The Bridge Over Snake Creek

by Nikki Bolvair

  I smirked, knowing my dad got two things out of that conversation. One: she lived close. Two: she attended the college, just like him.

  He worked on her phone number in the next photo.

  “She was a stubborn one,” a light voice mused, causing my heart to stop as I whirled around and stumbled back. An older woman clothed in green garments with tumbling golden hair stood there. Her weathered face was filled with wrinkles, and brown eyes just like mine ran over my form as if taking in every feature.

  “You have grown into a lovely young woman, Hannah. My daughter would be proud.”

  “Y-you’re my grandmother?”

  “Yes. My name is Annalise. We tend to keep Anna in our names to honor our ancestor before us.”

  I flicked a wrist around. “Okay, why am I here? Am I dead?”

  She clicked her tongue negatively. “No, child. I brought you here.”

  With a wave of her hand, a plush cream sofa for two with a high back and curved lines appeared. She sat and patted the place next to her. “Come, sit down, and let me tell you what you need to know. What you need to do.”

  I carefully made my way toward her and sat. “That’s kinda cryptic.”

  She patted my hand; it felt like a breeze of warmth against my skin. “This place is the dream world between the living and the souls that live on after one’s body is taken back into mother earth.”

  “Mmm, yeah, O.K. Do you live here?”

  She smiled. “No. The Spirit Whisperer sent me to give you direction.”

  Narrowing my eyes at her, I wondered who the Spirit Whisperer was and where my mother might be.

  “Where's my mother? Have you seen her?”

  “You mother is not yet here, but she will be.” She placed her hands on my own, the warmth returning. “What you need to know and understand is your mate, Jamison Hooks... sweetheart, he has to die. You have to let him go.”

  I pulled back from her and stood, shaking my head resolutely. “No. He’s fine. He’s not dying.”

  Warm brown eyes full of sympathy stared into my own. “When the time comes, let him go. Let it happen and I promise you, all will be well.”

  “By letting him die?” I put a palm to my forehead. I was adamant that whatever happened I would try to save him. I turned back to her and dropped my hand. “When? When will it happen? Like, in a few years?”

  She shook her head and started to fade. “Soon, my child. Remember, in order for him to live, he has to die.”

  I woke up with a start. Heart pounding in my chest, I scrambled up. I searched out Jamison, watching for his breathing. My breath caught when I found Hooks standing off to the side. In a low voice he asked, “Did she visit you?”

  I knew instinctively what he was asking. “Yes.”

  He nodded, his gaze intense, like a warrior gearing up for battle. “Heed her advice. It’s only a matter of time.” Then he disappeared.

  Breath still caught in my chest, I sat back against the couch, my body shaking with nerves. I was panicking. I covered my mouth to hold back the cries I knew would erupt. Why? Why would I need to know? Why ask this of me?

  I threw off the covers and got up, stepping over the guys, and spared a glance at the boy who made us dinner, teased me, and ridiculously tried to save me when saving wasn’t needed. I looked away from him and moved on, past the kitchen and toward the hallway that led to my bedroom. Jamison was mine. And I was told someone or something was going to take him from me. I didn’t know if I could do as my supposed grandmother had asked. Could I even believe her? Trust her? Let him die? Never.

  When the body fades, the spirit stays, a voice echoed in my head.

  “I won’t,” I told the voice as I pushed open my bedroom door. “I-I can’t.”

  You have to, you’ll see.

  “I won’t!” I growled before a clean masculine scent drifted to my nose.

  “Who are you talking to?” a different voice, rough from sleep, asked from behind me.

  I spun around. With his red messy hair, hoop earrings, and a bit of scruff made him look sinfully sexy, he stood in the middle of my bedroom doorway, wearing nothing but boxers and a plain white t-shirt. Snowden definitely had it going on at two in the morning.

  “Ah, hi?”

  He came in closer, glancing around. “Who were you talking to, Hannah?”

  Trying to think quickly on my feet, I replied, “Myself. I- I was thinking about...” - I sighed - “going to jump again.”

  He came over to me, curled an arm around my waist, careful of my life pack, and pulled me into his chest. “Why?” he rumbled, holding me tight. “Are you scared? Upset?”

  “I need a release,” I whispered into his shoulder. “To let go of everything.”

  A hand lifted from my waist, slipping under my frumpy shirt to touch my spine. His head dipped down, lips meeting my bare shoulder. “I can give you that.”

  Goosebumps raised on my skin at his touch and sensual words.

  “Not like that,” I whispered. “Eventually, but not right now.”

  He stayed where he was for a moment longer before respectfully withdrawing his hand from my skin and placing it back over my shirt.

  His lips lifted from my shoulder and he breathed in a deep breath. "Then let me take you somewhere."

  "Where?" I whispered in the darkness.

  "To Snake Creek." He shimmed the two of us back to the bridge, the one with the message, and withdrew from me, but left his hand holding mine.

  In the dark, our footfalls seemed loud on the floor of the bridge. The first time I came, I had parked in the bank parking lot and walked across the bridge. Now as we walked across it, further than I had gone, we headed toward a hotel on the opposite side of the river. Once our feet met solid ground, we turned right, walking parallel to the hotel and river. Snowden held my hand, guiding me where more lights glowed until we reached a lookout with stone steps. If it wasn’t for the darkness and trees, I could have seen the bank and river, but only the swooshing of rushing waters below met my ears. Now at the railing, he maneuvered me in front and penned me in with his hands on either side of the rail plate. He seemed to have a thing for that.

  The fresh smell of the water and the chill in the air cooled my aching heart as I let my mind wander to other things.

  Curling my arms around his elbows, I leaned back into his chest. "When I lost my mother, the pain was unbearable. I woke up thinking it was a dream. Morning after morning, I’d wake up unsure if it was all a dream as I threw off the covers and raced into my parents’ room, only to be met with shattering pain when I saw just my dad. It took days for that false hope to stop, but the pain always stayed. I didn't know how to deal with it. I saw her all the time; in the house, in the car, at the store. Her voice was like an echo in my head. Memory echoes. My grades suffered. My father was upset, disappointed. One time I went to a bridge just like this to end it all, but I found out that I could ride on the wind. I was always fast, but I could control it. My fall. I started to do it more. The thrills gave me an outlet. A moment of time where the pain went away. Trace, my best friend, helped. My grades went back up and I could focus. Then I got sick. And moved here. To find my mom’s family. To find a solution. And I found you guys. I wasn't prepared."

  "How could you be?"

  "What about you? Why does the big bad Snowden flip flop emotions like the current of a river?"

  He tensed. "I came second."

  "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Win is... he's perfect. Does everything right. Says the right stuff and is always there, eager to help. Me, I'm always a half-second late."

  "So you don't want to be like your big brother; you just want to feel equal."

  "Yes."

  "Is that why you try to be opposite of him with the hair, clothes, and the earrings?"

  "Partly, but the other part is because I look fucking hot."

  I snorted. “Humble much?”

  He chuckled. “Yes.”

  Thi
nking of Novalee's chart, I asked him another question. "Will you give me five things you think you’re good at?"

  "Why?"

  "Just do it."

  He sighed. "Fine. My talent."

  Even though I already knew, I asked, "Which is?"

  “Movemenair. I move air and create wind.”

  "Mmhmm. What else?"

  "UTimes if some snarky girl would let me be number one."

  I grinned. "Try harder. Three more."

  "Sex."

  "Snowden." I huffed.

  He chuckled. "Fuck, fine. Mixing drinks. I even have one at this bar downtown that I created."

  "Nice. Two more."

  "I- um... I like the warrior program?"

  "That's not about you. Try again."

  "Shit, this is hard."

  "It shouldn't be."

  "I have the highest score at pole vaulting with the warriors. Can free climb the highest."

  I turned in his arms, grabbing his face so he looked at me in the dark. "You are kind."

  "Okay."

  "Fearless.”

  I felt his cheek bunch up. “I can deal with that.”

  “Honest.”

  He stayed quiet.

  “A good friend. And good brother.”

  His cheeks fell, and I brushed my thumbs along them, feeling the scruff beneath the pads of my thumbs. “You are not a second string to your brother. On the inside, you’re just as unique and different. You are you. Plus, haven’t you heard? First the worst, second the best.”

  His shoulders shook as he bent down to kiss me. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

  I chuckled. “I don’t doubt it... my warrior.”

  He smiled against my lips. “Fuck. I like that name better.”

  “I know. So, are we going to go home now?”

  “Can I take you one more place? Maybe explain something so it won’t freak you out?”

  “Sure. I’d be okay with that. Where?”

  “To our ceremonial grounds.”

  ***

  He shimmed us to a mountaintop where the first rays of the sun were peeking up, illuminating a thousand white and yellow daisies covering the ground. He tugged me to a stone platform on the ground. It had a design with three circles in a triangle that looked like a symbol I once saw on a guy from my home town. It raised some questions for me. “Are there more of us? Not just here, but all over?”

  “Yes. We are all over. Across the pond and further. Our governing system works similar to a democracy with a few differences. In the beginning it wasn’t that way. Women weren’t involved in Lydent decisions. It took one woman’s death to change things. Not at first, but slowly voices were heard. That woman who died for her rights and freedom, she did what she thought was right. She’s your ancestor, Hannah. The night at my house, when you found out who we are, we recited ancient tongues. That was her cursed to us. Some say her heart still beats within her lover. The one who killed her.”

  I stepped away from him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, not to upset you. When you come Saturday for the ceremony, you might get freaked out. The counsel will shim your mom here,” he explained stepping up to two swirls on the ground. “And place her there. The ground will accept her body and that third circle is where her spirit will ascend. The flowers you see around us will hold memories of her from others. They wanted to ask you for some of yours, if you're up for it. Hooks will take you out sometime tomorrow to process them, if you feel up to it.”

  “That sounds... nice,” I struggled to get out.

  “Hard. That's what it will be like for you. You don’t have to lie.”

  “Yeah, it’s... yeah.”

  We stayed quiet for a moment before I got up the nerve to ask a question that might or might not make someone think I was crazy.

  “Snowden, who's the Spirit Whisperer?”

  “She’s our guide that helps us in this world and the next. She’s everything.”

  “Have you ever seen her?”

  He peered over at me. “Have you ever seen a five hundred dollar bill?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn't mean it isn’t a real.”

  I shifted. “How about seeing past relatives in a dream?”

  “Anything is possible. Come on.” He rubbed my shoulders. “Let's get back home and try to get some sleep before the sun completely rises.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We all went to school on Friday. Hooks found me the very first hour and excused me from class. It was homeroom, so it wasn’t very important anyways, and he took me back to another classroom which was empty.

  “Have you seen my dad today?” I asked quietly.

  “Yes. He’s doing fine. Still sleeping.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For watching out for him.”

  Hooks placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a nod. “Of course.” Then he shimmed us out of the room.

  We ended up back in the council room, which was empty except for Deb Churchill. “Hi, sweetie. If you’re okay with it, I’m going to copy some of your memories to place inside this container.” She held up a medium-sized, swirled, blue glass urn that I swear Quinn could’ve made and went on, “It’s painless; all you have to do is think of the memories you want to give and close your eyes. I’ll do the rest.”

  I glanced toward Hooks, who was staring intently at me, then turned back to her and nodded. I closed my eyes and felt a small nudge in my mind but that was it. I focused on the memory I had been given of my parents’ first time meeting.

  “How-” I heard Deb start to ask.

  “Shh,” Hooks whispered.

  I switched over to my mom reading me books for bedtime. Her smile and laugh. How she’d hug me. When she kissed my dad. Movies, trips, homework, birthdays, holidays, and when we found out she was sick. To the day dad came home early from seeing her.

  The pressure in my head slowly drifted away, and I found myself wrapped up in Deb's arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she cried, nudging my head onto her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  I let her hold me even though I wasn’t crying... but I wanted to.

  Hooks took me back to school, and I went to all my classes like a zombie. Even Drex's touch didn’t shake the unrelenting fear that had snuck up during the day. My gaze kept seeking out Jamison, making sure he was fine. Then there was my worry about my dad. There was so much I still didn’t know.

  When Serena and Beth came around, they didn’t acknowledge me. They had to have known, though; it wasn’t much of a secret now.

  I dreaded this afternoon when I was supposed to go with my grandparents. What would it be like? Uncomfortable and awkward?

  When lunchtime came, I wasn’t hungry. I dipped into my bag, pulled out my medication and took two pills. My body was starting to drag again. It was either from my illness or lack of sleep. Possibly even stress.

  I insisted on sitting next to Jamison. I was worried about him. About everything. Resting his hand on mine, he leaned in and whispered to me, “Cheer up. Your dad’s going to be fine, sweetheart. If you need one of us, just let us know.”

  I clutched onto his hand and peered up into his green eyes. “How? I can’t do what you can. What you all can do. What if I need help? What if that stick-in-the-mud woman does something Lydent-y to me?”

  Jamison chuckled and I bumped his shoulder. “It’s not funny, Jamison. I’m serious.” My voice dropped lower. “What if she brain washes me?”

  He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Not going to happen. She’s not even Lydent, but if you’re that worried...”

  “What?”

  Twisting back to his food, he started cleaning it up. “I’m done.” He turned to me. “You done?”

  I nodded, trying to figure out what we were doing. “I could be.”

  Drex, who was beside me, answered as well, “Yeah, m
e too.”

  “Dude, I barely dug into my hamburger,” Quinn grunted.

  Snowden just stared at the three of us.

  Win raised his second hot dog, still chewing what was in his mouth.

  “I’ll see you next hour,” I told them before getting up and walking out with Drex and Jamison.

  As soon as we were out in the hall, Jamison led us outside the building to the far corner of the school where there was nobody. It was almost the exact same spot Drex and I had gone to escape school grounds. Except this time I knew they could get out without climbing up a wall.

  “What are you guys doing?” Drex asked. “You know we can just shim away if we need to,” he joked as he stared at the same spot we had made our getaway.

  “We're not doing that. She's scared,” Jamison said, twisting around to look at Drex. “She's scared that something might happen to her while staying with her grandparents. I don’t know them that well; I’m inclined to agree that they might not be the best people around here. Don't you agree?”

  Hearing this, my hackles rose. Drex grimaced. “Yeah, they do kinda keep to themselves. I never really talked with any of them.”

  “Well, I want to be able to track her and give her a way to call us.”

  Drex gave a slow nod. “I see where you're going with this. You can do it to me too,” he said, holding out his hand.

  I suspected this must be some kind of magic thing. “What is it that we are doing?”

  Jamison flicked a finger to my bracelet. “It's kind of like that, but a little more personal. It’s called a hidden key.” He lifted up his other wrist and showed me a small light circle on his forearm that shimmered in the light. “Theses are our warrior keys.”

  My gaze drew to the translucent design I hadn’t seen before then peered up to him. “So you guys are some sort of warriors?”

  Drex chuckled. “Yes. Let’s just say, it’s like our army or police. We have certain keys that let us... go places that most can’t.”

  Jamison glanced around. “It’s not something we should be talking about here.” His gaze came back to me with a slight tilted of his lips. “We can tell you about it later.”

  I nodded, understanding his concern. “Ok, so what is this thing your going to do to me so I can contact you?”