The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 5

Archie

Sun streams through my bedroom window, piercing the fog in my brain, and I groan. What ungodly hour is this? And why the hell didn’t I have the good sense to pull the curtains closed last night when I got in?

One eye cracks open, and just as fast, I slam it shut as agony lances through my skull. Vague memories of last night come back in flashes: a spectacular fireworks show… one glass of champagne too many… my dear friend Garrick gallantly escorting my inebriated ass home as I stumbled away the last bit of my dignity.

I bury my face in the pillow and groan. Fuck, Archie, could you have made more of a spectacle of yourself? My God, everyone witnessed my abysmal lack of self-control and volume moderation last night. It was absolutely horrific. Fucking. Horrific. I’ll never drink again, I vow. Not gonna happen. Or at least, not for another week or so.

A cloud drifts by and uncovers more of the sun. Ugh. It’s actually brighter in here now! I reach out a leaden arm to find the other pillow on the bed, wondering if anyone would notice if I didn’t leave my apartment today. I think… and yeah, it’s Sunday. I have this day free before the last two days of school.

Outside, the city awakens, and the sounds slip through my blinds — traffic humming, pedestrians chatting, and the occasional bird serenading the dawn. I burrow farther beneath the covers. Nope. I have every intention of avoiding all that noise and light for as long as possible.

Today’s adventures will need to wait.

I groan and roll over, keeping my eyes closed against the persistent headache pounding in my temples. Please, brain. Can you please give me a single day off from being alive already?

I drape an arm over my eyes and will myself back to sleep. Another ten minutes won’t hurt anyone. The world will just have to wait.

When I wake again, it’s… midday. Damn it. I slept almost another three hours. My throat is parched, and my stomach is rumbling at me to get moving. A faint hint of nausea lurks beneath the surface. That’s… unpleasant.

I had too much to drink last night. Again. I didn’t realize how much it would affect me, especially since I officially quit drinking half the nights of the week. God, I am pathetic.

I drag myself out of bed and clutch at my nightstand when a wave of dizziness rolls through me. Groaning, I look around. No water bottle or aspirin nearby. Yikes. I was really off my game yesterday.

Of course, the headache pummels my skull even more on my way to the kitchen. I need something to wash the painkillers down.

All right, I’m down the hallway, and fucking wham! I’m remembering that stupid asshole, stupid Lex, telling me he loved me. Tears spring to my eyes, and I sag against the wall. How did he go from loving me to breaking up with me a week later? I know he met someone else on his trip. Bastard. I hate myself for dreaming of a future with him. Why did I do that? Why did I get my hopes up?

You shouldn’t ask for the truth, Archie.

I need to swear off men for good. I can’t let this wreck me every time some man decides he’d rather be with someone else. This is the fourth time this has happened in five years. Clara told me this is a blessing in disguise. These guys are not the right ones for me, and them leaving is better than being strung along forever.

Well, if not them, then who is the right one for me? Is there anyone?

I tip my head back and look at the ceiling, though I know I won’t get any answers.

Right. Get yourself to the kitchen, Archie.

Water first. I gulp down two full glasses, relishing the cold liquid on my parched throat. Next, painkillers. Two, no three, sounds about right. Then I fill the glass again with water and spy my blender on the counter.

Wait. A smoothie sounds perfect. I laugh because Garrick would tell me to eat and drink something to sober me up. He knows me so well. He always looks out for me when I don’t do the best job of that myself.

Grabbing the blender, I drop three handfuls of mixed berries in from the freezer, add some spinach, and open the container of nut milk. This’ll do the trick.

The blender roars to life. The blades start spinning everything into a mixed and frothy mess.

A gravelly voice rings out over the rattling whirl. “Confound it. What’s all this racket, then? Can’t a soul get some peace?”

I yelp, stumbling back from the counter as my heart leaps into my throat. The voice is coming from… inside the blender? An old man’s voice, annoyed and petulant. But that’s impossible. I’m hallucinating. I have to be.

What the hell did I drink last night?

The voice grumbles on as the blender continues its work. “Rude awakening, this is. What ungodly contraption is making that unholy din?” A pause, then, “And where in the blazes am I?”

Hands shaking, I jab the button to stop the blender. An eerie silence fills the kitchen. I stare at the blender, dreading what I might see if I look any harder.

Did I imagine it? Have I finally lost my mind?

“Hello?” I ask and turn around. Nothing is out of place in my kitchen. It’s as it always is.

A loud bang issues from within the blender as though something struck the inside of the glass and is followed by a muffled “OW!”

I shriek and stumble past my kitchen table, grabbing a knife from the block and clutching it to my chest.

“Who?” I swallow and unfurl one hand to point at the blender. “What are you? How did you get in there?”

A sigh drifts up, as of one greatly put upon. “Now there’s a story I wish I understood myself. One moment enjoying my breakfast, the next finding myself in this dark and turbulent prison. Most distressing!”

I stare wide-eyed at the blender. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. What in heaven’s name did I put in that smoothie?

I edge closer to the blender, knife at the ready. “Who are you?”

A weary sigh echoes up, like the creaky groan of an old door. It’s a sigh to rival one of my littlest kids when they want to continue playing instead of cleaning up.

“Ysroth, lead magician of Stellura, at your service. And to whom do I have the dubious pleasure of speaking?”

Magician?

My mouth drops open. “Archie,” I stammer.

“Archie?” The voice drips with disdain. “By the stars, what parent would curse a child so? No notion of propriety these days.”

Oh, that’s it. How rude.

“Hey. That’s not nice.”

Ysroth lets out a gruff chuckle. “No, it’s not, but neither is being trapped in a whatever this is. I demand to be released at once!”

“I don’t know how to release you,” I cry. “How did you end up in there?”

“Confound these newfangled contraptions!” An impatient huff. “I have urgent business with the Council. No time for such nonsense. Release me at once.”

I grip the counter harder. “I didn’t put you in there. I don’t know how you came to be trapped in my blender or why.”

“Your blender, did you say?” The magician sounds stunned.

“Blender, blender… What’s a blender? Preposterous. Unhand this magic at once, you charlatan, or you’ll face charges!”

“There’s no magic here but your own!” I yell back.

I hesitate, unsure of what to do. What is happening right now?

“Please, let me out,” Ysroth pleads. “I can’t stay in here much longer. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Think hard.” I set down the knife. “How did you end up in my kitchen?”

Another sigh, heavy with annoyance. “I’ve no notion. One moment I’m eating breakfast and preparing to meet the Council to discuss the upcoming battle, the next I find myself in this contraption. The tremors must have activated some portal — which is your doing, I’ve no doubt!”

Oh! The tremors last night, right at the moment of syzygy. I thought it was the fireworks, but no. Maybe it was something geological. Could it have been some errant magic transported this pompous magician into my blender?

But I don’t believe in magic.

Who believes in magic? Humans have lived for thousands of years, traveled the cosmos, and settled on many worlds, and there’s never been magic except in fiction.

I glare at the blender, hands on my hips. “Well, you can just transport yourself back out. I want to drink my smoothie and go back to bed. Not deal with this.” I wave my hands in the direction of the magical yet cranky voice.

A harrumph echoes up. “If I could undo this preposterous magic, do you think I’d remain trapped in this miserable prison a moment longer? You’ll release me at once, or face the Council’s wrath.”

Fucking fine.

I sigh. “Okay, okay. Let’s think about this. Maybe we can work together to get you out of there.” I try to sound as diplomatic as possible, not wanting to anger Ysroth any further.

There’s a long pause, and I can imagine Ysroth rolling his eyes on the other side of the blender. “Very well,” he says with a sigh. “What do you propose?”

I pause. I’ve read a ton of fantasy books in my life, but none of them have ever addressed this problem.

I approach the blender and dart forward to unplug it from the wall. The cord falls down and knocks against the cabinet.

Yes, without power, this will all go away. Perfect.

“Hello?” I ask.

“I’m still here!” Ysroth booms out.

“Ow, my head.” I clutch my skull. “Can you keep it down?”

I sigh again, dragging a hand over my face. Unplugging the blender didn’t undo whatever errant magic brought him here. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

“This is completely crazy,” I mutter, glaring at the blender. “I don’t have time for this nonsense today.” I have plans. A whole day ready to spend it in bed, trying not to puke.

“And you think I do?” the magician snaps at me. “Release me at once, or…”

I sigh, my annoyance getting the better of me. “Or what? You’ll petition the Council? Write a stern letter? In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re stuck in a blender.”

I must be going crazy.

With an exasperated huff, I grab the blender handle quickly and drain my smoothie into a glass.

“Don’t do that! That’s seriously strange.”

The magician grumbles to himself about “crazy women” and “where’s the booze” as I hold up my glass of smoothie and stare into the pink-green liquid. “Are you in my drink now?”

“No. I’m stuck… here.” I imagine him gesturing to himself in the blender, but I ignore him and take a long drink — goddamn I needed it! — then make my way back to my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me to keep the noise out.

I gulp my smoothie, sitting on my unmade bed. How did an angry magician get stuck in my blender and shatter my Sunday plans?

No clue. Go back to bed, Archie.