3MA

3MA | Chapter 27

27
PROMISES & INVITATIONS

The Sorcerer gallops like a legion of stallions across the Pendragon Bridge, leaving sonic ripples in the Kilgharrah River below. Teeth-rattling rock music blares from the surround-sound speakers and mingles with the biting winter wind that whips through the interior.

Fisher and the kids stick the upper halves of their bodies through the open sunroof and howl at the crimson moon; a saucer of bloody milk dominating the night sky.

I'll admit it: I'm not sure which is more exhilarating, making out with Amaris in a wormhole, or driving this incredible machine.

In the distance, the dim silhouette of Trudge crests above the horizon. As we rocket toward it, I make a silent promise to myself that by the time all of this is over, that pitch-black skyline of disused factories and leaning apartment buildings will shine like a torch, reawakened by the static it's been starved of for far too long.

If only I had a clue how to achieve that.

My somber thoughts are interrupted by Inka's singing. But her voice isn't coming from the backseat. It's coming directly from the radio.

"What the what," I say, fumbling with the radio dial and turning the volume up to full throttle. The song Inka wrote for my Bloodbath entrance belts from the radio speakers. Inka screeches in the back seat.

When it's finished, the radio announcer says, "And that was an unknown artist, first heard just hours ago at tonight's baffling Bloodbath tournament in Downtown Camelot." Another announcer laughs, "Did you see that fight? No one knows exactly what to think about this Merlin's Heir character. But one thing's for sure. Camelot officially has a new hero to cheer for."

"I see word still travels maddeningly fast in this city," Myrna says, as another annoying pop song takes over the airwaves.

We pull up in front of Sal's fifteen minutes later, and file out of the still-thrumming vehicle, riding high on a cloud of the night's impossible events. A huge gang of ratty neighborhood kids swarm around the parked car, running their enamoured fingers across every priceless inch of it.

I press the button on the gold keychain in my pocket and the doors pop open with a hiss. The kids all peer inside the car like it's a crash-landed alien spaceship.

"Sweet Guinevere!" a chubby kid announces, "look at that rad dashboard!"

"They break it, they buy it," Amaris groans.

I throw my arm around Amaris's shoulder and laugh. "They have nothing to lose."

"Hey mister," one of the kids shouts. "You're the one on the TV tonight. The magic dude."

"Yeah."

"You gonna get the power back on around here?"

"I'm gonna try," I say.

The kid scowls. "That's what my dad said about giving up drinking. Right before he disappeared."

"You and me both, kid," I say, tossing him the Sorcerer's keys. The kid's eyes shoot open as he snatches the keys from the air.

"Don't kill anyone," I say.

"Merlin's Heir? We should have called you Robin Hood," Myrna says, rolling her eyes and limping her way to Sal's.

Even from just a glimpse through the burger joint's frosted porthole window, I can tell something is different about Sal's tonight.

I push through the doors and a wave of drunken yelps and ecstatic applause nearly knocks us all over. The restaurant is packed with a sea of familiar faces. It's my local bar owners. My drifters and derelicts. My beggars and bouncers. It's my entire hometown. And for once in their sorry lives, every one of them is smiling ear-to-ear. They all raise their dusty glasses of beer and cheers our arrival.