Berserker by Brook Rogers

Author:Brook Rogers [Rogers, Brook]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 7

The sun was painting the cloudless sky in bright pinks and soft yellows when Conall, Bran, and I walked to the end of my yard the next morning, each with a duffel bag over one shoulder. We’d chosen to portal to Topeka, because Conall said a seer lived there who might be able to give us a lead. As it stood now, we had nothing to narrow down where the warlock could be hiding. It was an egg hunt without any eggs.

Since this was Conall’s show, Bran and I stood back to let him make the portal and lead the way. Presumably, he’d have a plan for where to go once we got there.

But when we stepped out of the portal and I got a good look around, I wanted to smack Conall’s grin right off his face. “The fucking lottery office? Really? They don’t rent cars here, and I’m not walking across the bridge.”

Bran tilted his head, looking from the building to Conall and back. “Why here? I mean, surely there was somewhere else we could have come through?”

Conall didn’t answer—just took off walking. Bran and I trailed him around to the front of the building, then watched as he opened the door and went in. What the hell? Neither one of us moved to follow him inside.

Bran rubbed a hand over his close-cropped blond hair. “Since when does that tight-ass gamble?”

I shook my head. “He’s probably just using their phone to call a cab. Seriously, I’m not walking across the bridge.”

Bran studied me from behind his sunglasses. “You shouldn’t be such a pussy. That was what . . . a hundred years ago?”

I gave him the finger and turned away so I wouldn’t be tempted to hit him. Next time, he could be the one leaping off a bridge to catch a fragile Chinese vase containing the spirit of a cursed Qin dynasty warrior. I came away from that fall with seven broken ribs, but the vase didn’t have a scratch. By the time Conall and Bran got down to the water to pull me out, I was well on my way to Valhalla. Death by drowning is zero out of ten—I do not recommend.

Conall swaggered back outside, swinging a set of keys on his finger. “Load up, boys.”

We both stared at him for a moment, but Bran recovered faster. “Shotgun!”

I cut my eyes at him. He was in prime twat form today.

Conall led us to a black Tahoe parked in the lot. The hatch opened automatically when he pushed the key fob, and we shoved our gear into the cargo area and climbed in. As we drove over the Kansas River, I looked out at the wide and murky water. Bran wasn’t wrong about me needing to get over my bridge phobia, but sometimes it’s not that easy. Everybody has something they’re deeply afraid of. If they don’t, then nothing bad has ever happened to them.

We took a quick right not far past the bridge and pulled into the Great Overland Station.

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