Song #3

Bridgette could swear that, for a split second, Edward’s eyes had changed from their usual dark brown to pale blue. But it had happened so quickly that she couldn’t be sure. She watched with a scared expression as Edward knelt on the dewy grass, his hands clutched to his temples. She approached him from behind and laid her hand on his shoulder.

Edward couldn’t explain his sudden feelings. Rage coursed through him like an angry river.

Bridgette hardly knew how to respond. She hadn’t meant to insult his flying. Was that why he was so angry with her? Feeling hurt, she replied, “Edward, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean anything by what I said.”

“I-I n-never said I was good at f-flying, you know. I never asked you to c-come with me.”

“Strange? I’ll tell you what’s strange.” He looked at her again, and this time she was sure of it. His eyes had flashed blue! “It’s strange that nothing I do is good enough. That’s strange, isn’t it? It’s strange how my mother died when I needed her most. It’s strange that my friends all tend to get hurt or disappear when I’m around. That’s pretty strange, wouldn’t you say?”

Bridgette didn’t know what to do or say. She just watched as Edward stood up and paced around the damp grass, looking more and more upset.

“You say I’m strange and I say, yeah, I’ve been strange pretty much my whole life. I’ve never been good at anything. And now I’m not too great as a Guardian, either. Some Guardian,” he spat. “I can’t protect anybody, not even myself. Just look at me!” He flared his wings, accentuating his sticklike frame. “I’m sick of fighting it, Bridgette. I’m never gonna beat the Jackal. Never! What was I thinking?”

“I never said you were strange, Edward,” Bridgette said quietly. “I only meant that you were acting different.”

Edward turned away, and Bridgette caught a glimpse of his neck. There was an inflamed area just under his cheekbone.

Edward shot her a suspicious glance. “What are y-you t-talking about,” he snapped.

“No, seriously,” she said, pointing to the area. “It’s all red. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m fine . . .” Edward began, raising his hand protectively to his neck. But as he felt the area, he suddenly became aware that his skin was as cold as ice.

Edward lowered his hand enough for Bridgette to get a peek. She could tell right away that there was something out of the ordinary about Edward’s wound. The red, inflamed area was surrounded by tiny, purple veins that radiated outward in jagged streaks, like the tentacles of an octopus.

Bridgette lifted her hand to the spot on his neck, and before Edward could do anything to stop her, she did something totally unexpected.

Bridgette was no Guardian, but Edward recognized the melody she was singing and knew immediately that it was a Song of Power. In fact, it was the first line in a Song of Restoration that Tabitha had sung to help his father.

As she sang, a curious change came over Edward. The voices in his head began to fade away. The fog of conflicting emotions and insecurity lifted and he felt peace settle on his heart and mind. For the moment, he felt like himself again.

“How did you do that?” he said, awestruck, as Bridgette completed the melody. Tabitha had told him that it was very rare for a human to be able to sing Guardian melodies. She’d said that mortal voices typically couldn’t reproduce the complicated notes in the songs. But evidently Bridgette was an exception.

Bridgette smiled shyly back at Edward. “I listened closely while Tabitha was singing. I can’t remember the whole song, but when she sang, it sounded so beautiful. I guess I couldn’t help memorizing a little of it.”

As the effects of the poison ebbed, Edward suddenly felt guilty for how angry he’d been with her. He didn’t even know why it had happened. Bridgette never would have said or done anything to hurt his feelings on purpose.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said. “I don’t know why I was acting that way.”

“I think you might have been poisoned,” she said. “That’s a terrible wound on your neck. It almost looks like you were bitten by a huge spider!”

Edward shuddered. He hated spiders! But he couldn’t remember seeing any during the battle. He raised his hand and rubbed the area. He thought back to the battle, to the centaur with the tiny, robotic insects. Was it possible that he’d been bitten by one of those metal bugs and didn’t know it?

Bridgette interrupted his thoughts. “It looks a little better, but I don’t know how to completely heal it. The song may help for a while, but I think that whatever was wrong with you might come back. What you need is a Guardian to sing that song, Edward. I’m only a mortal.”

Edward knew she was right. And although he was technically a Guardian, he didn’t know how to sing.

“Tabitha was trying to teach me how to sing Songs of Power, but I just couldn’t do it. Every time I tried, it sounded terrible. I couldn’t even do ‘Broken Chains,’ the song they teach Guardian children. It was pathetic!”

Bridgette gave him a sympathetic look. “I only know a couple verses of different songs, but we can work on it together if you want to.”

“But everybody says that you have to learn. The Bridge Builder is supposed to be able to sing. Remember the prophecy? ‘His twisted tongue will utter song’? What about that?”

Edward’s expression darkened. Glancing back up at Bridgette, he said, “I don’t think I’m the Bridge Builder, Bridgette. I . . . I’m not what everyone thinks I am. I’m not very good at this whole ‘Guardian’ thing. I can barely fly. My ring throwing is pure luck. And I can’t sing.”

His eyes burned. “All I want to do is rescue my mom and dad. And chances are, because I’m so lousy at being a Guardian, I’ll probably die trying to do it.”

Edward looked miserable. Bridgette reached over and took his long, pale fingers in her hand.

“Then just be who you are, Edward. If you really are the Bridge Builder, you’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

Both her words and the touch of her hand comforted him. But somewhere deep inside, he could tell that the Song of Restoration was starting to wear off. The voices, although distant, were still there, and they mocked him, saying, When the time comes, everyone will see the truth. You’re no Bridge Builder, Edward Macleod. And when you fail, everyone will finally see you for what you really are.