The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 20

Garrick

Gone. She’s gone.

The car screams beneath me, a high-pitched whine protesting the speed. I push it harder. Let’s go! Gravel spits from the tires as I fishtail onto the main highway, leaving Archie’s dad a dwindling figure in the rearview mirror.

My knuckles are white on the steering wheel. She left me. After last night, after everything, she snuck out like a thief, leaving only a cryptic note and an empty space in the bed beside me.

Too dangerous for you.

The arrogance. The stupidity. Doesn’t she get it? We’re partners. We face this madness together. Or we were. Was last night just… a release? A way to forget before running off alone?

I can’t believe she did this. After everything we’ve been through — the vortices, the enchanted bicycles, the angry mob — she thinks she can just walk away? As if I was just along for the ride until now?

We’re in this together. I thought we’d established that. Partners. A team. Last night wasn’t just a physical release. It was a promise. At least, that’s what it felt like when she curled against me, when she whispered my name in the darkness.

I was ready for this. Ready to face whatever magical chaos came our way, side by side. I’ve never felt more alive than these past few days with her, even with the danger. Doesn’t she understand? I’d rather meet the end of the world with her than live in safety without her.

She thinks she’s protecting me, but all she’s done is leave me terrified for her.

An icy fist clenches around my heart. Panic claws at my throat. She’s heading to Rumblestone. Alone. Towards dark magic and God knows what else. Towards the place her mother vanished.

“Easy, Master Garrick,” a calm voice emanates from the passenger seat. “Panic will not help her. Focus on the road. We must reach her.”

Arvid. Right. The toaster magician. My unlikely co-pilot.

I take a ragged breath, forcing my shoulders down. He’s right. Freaking out won’t save her. Driving like a maniac into a ditch won’t save her.

“Just… keep an eye out,” I mutter, scanning the road ahead. It’s eerily empty. Most sensible people probably fled inland hours ago.

“Okay,” I say, pushing a heated breath through my nose. “Talk to me about what I may find in Rumblestone.”

“Me? How would I know?”

I growl. “Look, man, toaster, whatever. I need a distraction, and you’re it.”

Arvid sighs, a metallic sound like wind through old pipes. “Very well. Before your kind arrived, Latara was a place of wonder and balance. Magic flowed through everything — the trees, the rivers, the very air we breathed.”

I keep my eyes on the road, but my ears perk up. This is what I need right now.

“We weren’t gods, mind you,” Arvid continues, his voice taking on a wistful quality. “Only caretakers. Stewards of power. The Council of Twelve governed the use of magic, ensuring no one wizard grew too powerful.”

The car hits a pothole, and I wince. “What happened?”

“Ambition. Greed. The eternal failings of sentient beings.” He pauses. “A faction led by Branwen believed we should harness deeper magics, forces from beneath the earth, from the void between stars. They built a temple under what you now call Rumblestone, at a convergence of ley lines.”

My hands tighten on the wheel. “And?”

“Catastrophe. The ritual went wrong. The darkness they summoned couldn’t be controlled. In desperation, the remaining council members, Ysroth and I among them, performed a sealing ritual. It contained the worst of it, but at a significant cost. Our civilization never recovered.”

“And now it’s breaking free again,” I mutter.

“Yes. And if Archie has gone there alone…” He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to.

The highway stretches before us, cracked pavement shimmering in the morning heat. Debris litters the shoulder — fallen branches, discarded belongings, strange metallic objects glinting in the sun.

Possessed objects. Great.

This journey is going to be a nightmare.

We weave through more scattered debris. Up ahead, a cluster of mailboxes on metal posts starts to twitch, rocking back and forth like angry sentinels. One lurches forward, trying to detach itself.

I floor it, speeding past before they can organize a proper ambush. If this place is crawling with minor magical annoyances, what awaits us in Rumblestone itself?

The miles tick by at a slow pace. My mind keeps replaying last night. Archie’s gasp as I entered her, the way she clung to me, the taste of her skin… Had I imagined the connection? The vulnerability? Was it all a reaction to the stress, the fear?

No. It was real. Too real. Which makes her leaving hurt even more.

“You blame yourself,” Arvid states, his voice gentle.

I flinch. “What?”

“For her departure. You believe it’s a reflection upon you.”

“Isn’t it?” I snap, then sigh. “Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I pushed her too hard.”

“Or perhaps,” Arvid counters, “she seeks to protect you. A noble, if misguided, impulse.”

Protect me? By running headfirst into danger alone? That’s not protection, it’s recklessness. And it terrifies me.

Up ahead, a figure stands by the side of the road, waving frantically. A woman. Stranded?

I slow the car, squinting through the dusty windshield. Dark curls and a familiar stance… No. It can’t be.

But it is. Marlo.

And she’s holding… a stand-mixer?

“Pull over,” Arvid instructs. “She may require assistance.”

“Are you kidding?” I grip the wheel tighter. “It’s Marlo.”

“Who?”

“My ex-girlfriend. Trouble follows her like a foul smell.” The last thing I need is my chaotic ex complicating this rescue mission.

“Nevertheless,” Arvid insists. “We cannot abandon her if she is in distress.”

He’s right. Damn it. With a groan, I pull the car onto the shoulder, stopping a few yards past her. I watch in the rearview mirror as she jogs towards us, the bulky stand-mixer clutched in her arms.

She leans down, peering in the passenger window, her expression shifting from desperation to surprise, then to a deliberate smile that always set my teeth on edge.

There was that night at the Harbor House, before the syzygy… The way she slid onto that barstool, her hand brushing mine, eyes full of suggestion. “I’ve missed you,” she’d said, as if the months apart had been a mere inconvenience rather than her choice. Classic Marlo — always wanting what she couldn’t have, always circling back when it suited her. I’d said no then, walked away from her practiced smile and calculated touch.

And now here she is again, appearing like a bad penny at the worst possible moment. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, dropping my ex in my path while I’m racing to save the woman I love.

Yep, I love her. Dammit.

“Garrick? Fancy meeting you out here in the apocalypse.” She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head. “My car died miles back. You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had.”

“Try me,” I deadpan, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

Her smile falters for a split second. “Well, this old thing” — she pats the mixer — “started talking. Freaked me right out. Then the car quit. We’ve been walking for hours.”

My eyes narrow. Another possessed appliance? “Talking how?”

“Just… talking. Some old wizard named Branwen, apparently trapped inside.” She rolls her eyes. “Crazy, right? Anyway, listen, could you give me a lift? I need to get to Coralton.”

Coralton? That’s the wrong direction. “No can do. I’m heading to Rumblestone.”

Marlo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Rumblestone? Why on earth—?” She stops, her lips twisting. “Who do you know in Rumblestone?”

My jaw tightens and I glare at her. Realization dawns in her dark eyes.

“Ah. Archie.” The name drips with implication. “Still chasing after the sweet little schoolteacher, are we?”

Heat flares in my chest. “This isn’t about that. She’s in trouble.”

“Isn’t she always?” Marlo leans closer, her perfume filling the car. Too sweet, too cloying. “Come on, Garrick. Be reasonable. Rumblestone sounds dangerous. Take me to Coralton first. It’s safer.” She traces a finger along the doorframe. “We could… catch up.”

My jaw tightens. Same old Marlo. Always twisting things, always trying to manipulate. But something’s different this time. I’m different.

“No.” The word is flat, final. “I’m going to Rumblestone. To get Archie. You can ride along that far if you need to, but I’m not detouring, and I’m not playing your games.”

Her eyes widen. She’s not used to me standing firm. Good.

“Get in the car, young lady,” a voice from the mixer says, her demeanor prim. “I told you we were going to Rumblestone. And here. The universe has delivered.”

“Shut up,” Marlo hisses at the mixer. She studies me for a long moment, then shrugs and sighs. “Fine. Fuck it. Rumblestone it is. Beats walking.” She opens the back door, tossing the heavy mixer onto the seat beside the toaster before sliding in herself. “But don’t expect me to fight any magical what-have-yous for your girlfriend.”

I ignore the comment, pulling back onto the highway. My focus is singular. Archie.

The car speeds onward, the tension inside thicker than the dust swirling outside. Marlo shifts in the back seat, and Arvid remains silent. I grip the wheel, my gaze fixed on the horizon.

Was bringing Marlo a mistake? Almost certainly. But I couldn’t leave her stranded.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my old colleague,” a silky female voice purrs from the back seat. “Still playing the righteous guardian, Arvid?”

“Branwen.” Arvid’s tone is cool, measured. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but we both know better.”

“Such hostility after all these centuries.” The mixer sighs. “We could have achieved greatness together, you know.”

“Your ‘greatness’ nearly destroyed our world.”

“Progress requires sacrifice.”

“And now?” Arvid asks. “What game are you playing this time?”

Branwen’s laugh is like ice cracking. “No games. I learned my lesson the first time. Though I must say, your human is far more interesting than mine. Such delicious determination.”

I roll my eyes. Great. Another sarcastic one. Just what we need.

But having another magician, even one trapped in a mixer belonging to my ex, could be useful.

I only wish we could get to Rumblestone faster.