The Bridge (26 page)

“Here.” Someone tossed a pair of brown ankle boots under the tent flap.

EVERETT WAS
in a demon camp set between an emerald-blue lake and a cotton tree forest. His tent was one among dozens.

This camp must frequently change locations, Everett noted; the tents were the most permanent feature of the camp.

According to one witchtale, there were many towns and cities here in the In Between, though they were not as fantastical as they sounded. They were rundown, corrupt, and full of crime. If this was so, Everett wondered if there was any room for change. Settlements were run by whoever had the most power, or whoever struck the most fear into demons. There was one position that was determined at birth, and that was Warden. Wardens were believed to be chosen by a higher power and were given complete rule over In Between. Yet with In Between’s endless land, there was a limit to what the Warden could touch.

Everett walked through the aisles between the tents. No guards followed him, because everyone had their eyes on him. Demons of different colors and sorts of bodies were preparing for their travel to Earth, several wisps among them. The demons weren’t actually demons. They were dark creatures who called themselves demons as a group label. Individually they were vampires, werewolves, light-eaters, harpies, elves, etc. They devoted their lives to Zhell, and witnessing their dedication to Zhell and the ceremony, Everett now understood.

Zhell was their god. He determined whether they crossed the bridge or not. The best way to secure travel to the living world was by hailing him as a god. He was the alpha and they were the omegas. There were no betas. Demons were either the Warden or they were servants.

A group of demon girls and boys darted in front of him, smiling with such innocence that Everett felt sick. “Greetings! You are our Bridge Master?”

Three were a healthy bunch of children with skin the color of ripe raspberries. The other two were centaurs that wore no clothing. Everett kept his eyes above their hairy legs and below their horns.

He nodded, looking at the she-demon who had addressed him.

“You are taking us to our new home?”

He paused too long, giving the wrong impression; the centaurs’ lips twitched, as though about to snarl at him.

“Yes,” he said.

The demons bounced in glee, grabbing each other’s hands.

“We have been waiting forever!” One of the centaurs hugged Everett, face pressed into his belly, tiny horns sticking up. The horns were sharp enough to impale. “Many blessings to you!”

A passing wisp glanced over. “Blessings,” it snarled, and then laughed.

WHEN DEMONS
stared at Everett for longer amounts of time, he knew the ceremony was near, so he sat in front of his tent and waited for an escort. The demons were already leaving, weapons strapped to their bodies. Some of them thanked Everett for providing the open door. Everett only smiled. No more children threw themselves into his arms. He had already gotten thanks from a dozen children.

“Everett? Where are you? I can’t sense you. I think I broke something.”
Buzz sobbed through his words.

“Where does it hurt? I can heal you.”

“Everywhere.”

Everett couldn’t heal “everywhere.”

And then he was in Buzz’s head, tentacles shattered. Tears washed down Everett’s cheeks and dribbled down his chin. His cap was bruised and his eyelid was swollen. He couldn’t see anything but the bush in front of him.

He poured his heart into the spell, mending everything that hurt. He chased the pain away.

He didn’t faint.

“Oh goodness, that feels heavenly.”
Buzz sniffled.

“I have so much energy here. I made a portal for Bryce, and it barely tired me.”
Everett had healed all his paper cuts in seconds and only felt an ounce of fatigue.

“You’re a Bridge Master. This is your natural habitat.”

Everett exposed the auras of every demon in the camp. He watched the colorful show parade past his tent. Then he stripped all their auras, revealing that some demons had disguised themselves to be more attractive. He exposed the same tattoo on all of them.

As he explored the wonders of his new abilities, the demons that passed him became weary and lethargic. With the energy he had now, these demons were nothing but tired pawns to knock over.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because you’re not invincible and you’re going to do something stupid with that much energy. Don’t take on Zhell.”

Everett scoffed.
“I’m not going to let this go to my head, but tell me if I can take on Zhell.”

“Yeah, but even if you have increased energy, he’s stronger, so you’ll have to fight smart.”

“Increased energy?”
The euphoria that rushed through Everett was indescribable.

His entire life he had had low energy, had been dependent on salt. In this world he didn’t need salt or traditional brews. He was independent. The demons looked up to him as a gateway to their dreamland. He was more important to them than their Warden. The Warden couldn’t open the bridge. Everett could.

If Everett defeated Zhell, he could take his place as the Warden. He could transform this world into a better place for dark creatures and spirits, and deliver lost spirits to their afterlife.

It wasn’t entirely a fever dream. He could make it happen.

“Don’t get any crazy ideas,”
Buzz warned.

Too late. Everett had a dozen of them.

“Everett, are you ready to take my people to their new home?” Zhell was flanked by three heavy-duty guards. Their bodies were covered with countless bladed weapons.

“I was running away from you. What does that tell you?”

Zhell expanded his wings with a snap. The tattoo found on every single demon was burned into his wings. Then his wings shifted from leather to rows upon rows of curved blades. His lazy smirk enhanced his cockiness. “Eventually you will have to leave.”

“When I leave, I will only take those who deserve to come. I decide who crosses the bridge, remember?”

Zhell opened his hand. A smoky whip formed out of thin air. He flicked the whip, and it curled around Everett’s waist. He yanked Everett to his chest and stabbed his claws into the back of Everett’s neck. “I decide if your hybrid lives, remember?”

The world narrowed to a pinpoint. Zhell stood at its center, wings held high.

“Did nobody tell you? I have a sweet hybrid boy in my possession, next to a puny old witch and several other humans. I can kill them all, or you can open the bridge to all demons. Your choice.”

The old witch must be Omar.

Everett shoved Zhell away. The whip tightened on his waist. “Where are the other hybrids?”

“At the ceremonial grounds with the other demons. We are headed there now, so come along. They cannot wait.” Zhell chuckled, his whip fading into smoke.

THERE WERE
hundreds of demons gathered around the summoning circle. They left a wide ring of clearance for the hybrids, Zhell, and Everett. Everett looked over the sea of faces and found children among the grinning mouths.

Zhell gave Everett a large bowl of black tar. “It is tradition for the Bridge Master to pour the brew.”

Everett could see his reflection in the brew. He didn’t look like the Everett of any past days. He was a stranger holding the destruction of humankind.

Three hundred demons would decimate Sundale. There had to be more demons out there. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Maybe millions.

How long would humans last against a million demons? Could demons die by manmade fire? If a soldier buried a dozen bullets in their skulls, how long would they stand on their feet? They couldn’t be immortal. Earth could easily handle three hundred paranormal creatures, but the first town the demons struck wouldn’t. He could connect the bridge to the Sahara Desert and have the demons burn out. He could drown them in the Pacific Ocean.

Zhell held Everett’s shoulders and caressed his ear with a whisper. “Do not pull any mindless tricks. This brew is created to take us to a specific place. All you need to do is summon the bridge.”

Everett could drop the bowl, let the brew spill.

“I can guide you if you are nervous. The other Bridge Master was so nervous, he spilled the tar all over my face.” Zhell chuckled and put his hands over Everett’s. He pulled the bowl—and Everett with it—to the summoning circle that was engraved in the pavement. It was as large as the bookshop’s main floor.

Everett thought of his grandfather assisting customers in making book choices. He thought of the customers reading in the lounge corner, unaware of the demons that would eventually take over the town.

The brew dribbled on the pavement.

Everett stomped on Zhell’s feet and let go of the brew. Zhell almost dropped the bowl. The brew sloshed onto the circle, continuing the outline.

Anger shot across the crowd. Voices screamed, calling Everett a traitor, a liar.

“It appears I’ll have to break the tradition.” Zhell clicked his tongue.

Zhell drew the circle and completed it to the cheers of the surrounding demons. He threw the bowl into the crowd and a little girl used her wings to get leverage over the reaching hands. She didn’t look old enough to understand what death meant.

And to the left was the group of raspberry-skinned and centaur children, barely holding in their joy.

Everett glared at the hybrids, cursing their existence. It was easy to wish them nonexistent when they were in their true forms, their bodies made to kill and destroy. He cursed their guilty faces and swore to make them regret the moment they stabbed humanity in the back.

Sunny grinned—it was the first time he had seen her smile so widely. What might have been guilt flashed across Jake’s face. Lena mouthed for Everett to “do it.”

“Open the bridge, Everett. Give us passage to the world that rightfully belongs to us,” Zhell raised his voice to be heard over the excited murmur of the audience.

Everett stepped back from the circle, drawing furious shouts from the crowd.

“No world belongs to you. You don’t ever own a world. Nobody does.”

Zhell slapped Everett, his nails drawing deep scratches against Everett’s cheek. Everett stood his ground and turned his other cheek.

“You think yourself a hero?” Zhell seized the collar of Everett’s tunic and tugged him to his toes. “You are no hero. There is nothing you can do to stop me. If you refuse, I will kill your friends and wait for the next Bridge Master. I have waited for decades. I will wait another decade if I must. You are nothing but another stepping-stone.”

Everett ground his teeth against the burn of the cuts on his cheeks. “Then wait for the next Bridge Master. I refuse to do anything.”

“Open the bridge, child, or I will let my soldiers have their way with you. There is so much they will do to a pretty boy like you. We can make it a show for your friends before they die. We can fill their final moments with your blood.”

“Warden.” One of Zhell’s guards pointed to a struggling figure escorted by two other guards.

“Bryce,” Everett breathed.

A guard cuffed Bryce in the back of the head. Bryce hissed and snapped, his eyes ablaze with black fury. His skin was splashed with gray scales, his face more pointed, his talons and claws quivering. But he wasn’t fully transformed. He saw Everett, and the fight drained out of him as if someone had pulled a plug. He tugged on the arms that held him back once and then stood on legs that seemed ready to buckle.

“Everett? What are you—they got you.”

Bryce stared at Everett as he was marched to Zhell, his strides broken in rhythm. His clothes were scuffed from getting dragged through the forest, but the skin glimpsed between the tears in his shirt and pants wasn’t covered with paper cuts.

Zhell pushed Bryce to the ground and pinned him down with a boot to his back. He pulled a sword of shadows out of his palm and poised the tip at Bryce’s neck.

“Open the bridge, Everett.” He brushed Bryce’s neck with the tip.

Zhell had positioned Bryce so that Everett could look him right in the eyes.

Bryce wasn’t fully transformed. He had to be if he wanted to fight back.

Zhell prodded Bryce’s neck. “Everett.”

“Get out!” Bryce gritted his teeth as the sword bit into the side of his neck. Blood trickled out. “Leave us behind.”

“Quiet.” Zhell slapped the flat of the sword against Bryce’s head.

“Why do you want Earth? You have all this land!” Everett gestured to the tents and the cotton grass and the paper dirt and the music decorating the sky. “Earth is nothing as beautiful as In Between.”

“You know the stories of this world. There is nothing but despair.” Zhell drew a line of blood on Bryce’s neck.

Bryce dug his chin into the ground, body clenching as the blood spilled.

“In Between is endless. Earth is round, polluted, nothing like In Between. We don’t have anything you want.” Everett was short of begging on his knees.

“You have life.”

The gathered demons watched as if Everett were entertainment. The longer he refused, the sooner they would grow impatient.

“How could you?” Everett screamed at the hybrids. For the first time they all looked uncomfortable in their nonhuman skins, their arms folded and their eyes looking everywhere but Everett and Bryce.

Had they not expected the ceremony to take a turn like this? For Zhell to put a blade to Bryce’s neck?

“What wish could make this”—he gestured wildly to Bryce—“okay? Are you going to wish the demons out of Earth?”

“They know the limits of their wishes. Nobody is going to stand with you. Open the bridge.
Now.
”

Everett raised a palm to the summoning circle and watched horror cross Bryce’s face. He whimpered and closed his eyes as he opened the bridge.

A heavy scream fell upon the land, sending the demons to their knees with their hands over their ears. Zhell’s only showing of pain was in the slight pinch of his eyebrows. Buzz descended from the sky, as large as a boulder, and with one sweep of his enlarged tentacles, knocked Zhell off Bryce.