Kingdom of the Nine: The Bridge (IV)

Chapter 3

Chicago, Illinois

———Dylan———
My head feels like it's about to split open. Hunched over the sink in the school bathroom, I grip the porcelain like it's the only thing keeping me upright. The pounding in my skull turns into a roar, and my vision begins to blur.

Then it hits.

A ring—huge, circular, fractured. Cracks spider across its surface as a sound, low and haunting, cuts through the air. A bell, tolling over rolling hills. From the shattered ring, a massive cloaked figure emerges, its form shrouded in darkness. It moves toward me, fast and menacing. But it's stopped—a girl steps in its path, her hand alight with crackling lightning. Her power radiates like a storm.

The vision fades as quickly as it came, and I shout, the pain sharp and hot as blood drips from my nose into the sink.

"Rough night, Dylan?"

The voice snaps me back. I glance up, catching my reflection in the mirror—nose bleeding, face pale—and then turn to see Keegan leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He flicks his lighter open and closed, the tiny flame dancing with each flick.

I grab a wad of paper towels and press it to my nose. "You could say that."

He raises an eyebrow. "Still haven't gotten those migraines checked out? It's been, what, two weeks now? And now nosebleeds? Dude, that's not normal."

"Could be worse," I mutter, turning back to the sink.

How am I supposed to explain this to anyone? That my headaches come with visions and delusions? Any doctor would probably think I was nuts—or worse, that I was making it up for attention.

Keegan shrugs, flicking his lighter again. "So, I guess this means you're not coming to the Rusty Bucket punk show tonight?"

"Not unless I want to pass out in the middle of the mosh pit. I can barely stand."

"Fair enough," he says, nodding. "Guess I'm flying solo. Your mom still cool with me crashing at your place after, though?"

"Yeah, just don't pull that shit you did last week. She thought you were a burglar, and she was pissed."

Keegan laughs, shoving the lighter into his pocket. "Hey, that wasn't my fault. I drank too much at that party. Skateboarding home plastered didn't seem like a smart move."

"Well, maybe don't drink as much tonight," I say, shaking my head.

He smirks. "Well, maybe go see a doctor. Then next time, you'll be there to stop me."

I chuckle despite myself. Turning back to the mirror, I shove a fresh wad of paper towels up my nose. Keegan takes one look and bursts out laughing, doubling over until he's coughing.

"Please tell me you're not walking around school like that."

"Bruh, what am I supposed to do?" I shout, laughing along with him. For a moment, the pounding in my head eases, and it almost feels like things are normal again.

We push open the bathroom door and step into the hallway, the harsh fluorescent lights casting their usual pale glow. The echoes of distant chatter and the occasional slamming locker fill the air as we weave through the thinning crowd of students.

Keegan walks beside me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "You know, we could just skip the rest of the day," he says casually, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, it's not like you're in any condition to sit through pre-calc."

I roll my eyes but can't help smirking. "You just don't want to go to history."

"Can you blame me? Mr. Rainer's voice could put an insomniac to sleep." Keegan grins, nudging my arm. "Come on, let's bail. Rusty Bucket starts late anyway—we can grab some food or something. My treat."