Mythos (The Descendants, #1)

by Vrinda Pendred

  * * *

  Later, she dreamt she was walking barefoot along a riverbank. All around her were fields, and the grass was cool beneath her feet. The rest of the world had disappeared, leaving her alone with its midnight majesty. She wore a long gauzy nightdress that fell to her ankles and swelled around her with the wind, which tossed her black hair around and made her look like a celestial fairy.

  A dark figure sat at the edge of the water. She could tell from the build that it was a boy, but she could make out nothing more. She walked silently toward him, her fingers dipping into one of his intangible black shoulders.

  He turned. He was all shadow, featureless, aside from his steely grey eyes, which leapt out like wolves.

  The same eyes she kept seeing lately, in her trances.

  They were tormented eyes, eyes that had known great emptiness and lacked self-knowledge. They seemed to search her face for something they had been wanting all their life but could not name.

  She felt herself sink into them, like this was where she was always meant to be, bathing in the dark figure’s gaze. Her heart throbbed for him.

  ‘They’re coming for us,’ she found herself saying.

  ‘No,’ the figure said, ‘they’re coming for it.’

  His grey eyes flashed and their light flickered on the water beside them. The river took that light and warped it, extended it, until it streaked across the silvery surface.

  The figure put out his shadowy hand for her. She took it without needing to consider what she was doing, and this time it felt solid; her hand didn’t slip through it but grasped it. She thought if only she could stay there long enough, she would see the boy behind the shadows. Her heart cried out for that boy, without knowing why.

  The river had turned to ice, and they stepped gingerly onto it. Her feet had gained a smoothness that could skate easily on the frozen water. Together, they glided in swift, gentle movements, the shadow’s arms pulling her in, enveloping her in black.

  She still wasn’t afraid. She wanted the darkness. It was beautiful and comforting, like the answer to a prayer.

  ‘Don’t let them get my children,’ she quoted, just before the scene filled with ink.

  Everything was black, and the shadow was gone. It was just her, watching as there was an explosion and stars tumbled out, scattering across the sky in which she floated.

  And in one small corner of space, the darkness bent and wobbled, as if something were trying to crack through the fabric of the universe and make itself known.

  Then she woke breathless, a thin layer of sweat coating her neck and shoulders.

  What had it meant?

  She lay back, closing her eyes and counting backward from twenty.

  It didn’t help, so she tried again, this time from fifty.

  Then she thought of the shadow, and his grey eyes, and calm overwhelmed her.

  TEN

  Itzy slept well into the afternoon the next day, finally waking to the sound of birds tittering about how she should have been up hours ago. She rolled over sleepily, her arm flopping over the side of the bed and her fingers tapping the carpeting on the floor. The curtains were shut and the fairy lights still coloured the room faintly.

  Then she saw something that woke her right up.

  Her eyes flashed and she grabbed her phone on the night stand. She dialled the number she’d been given last night and pressed her mobile to her ear.

  ‘Damn it, Seth,’ she greeted him when he answered. ‘Why is Parson Brown still in jail?’

  ‘Hiya, Itz,’ he spoke sleepily down the line. In that haze, she could almost pretend he was normal. He even sounded sort of -

  Focus, Itzy.

  ‘Answer the question,’ she said.

  ‘Hey, own that anger,’ he replied.

  She took a deep breath and counted to five. ‘I’m not cross,’ she lied. ‘I just want to know why you didn’t release the bear. My mum could find him! How am I supposed to explain it to her?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  Itzy was flabbergasted. ‘Dunno? That’s all you have to say?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Something clicked. ‘You want me to get him out of the jail myself.’

  ‘Oh, she’s got it!’ Seth announced to an imaginary audience. The arrogance had returned to his voice, making him sound more like himself. He made a grunting noise, like he’d been lying down and just sat up. ‘Remember what we went over last night. Own it. Make it yours. Alright?’

  Then he clicked off and the connection flat-lined in a long drawn-out beeeeeeep.

  Itzy stared at the phone like she couldn’t believe anything that had just happened.

  Parson Brown banged in his prison and started yelling that they could chain his body, but they could never chain his mind.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, shut up!’ she yelled at him.

  He only banged louder.

  She swore under her breath. ‘Okay, I can do this,’ she said. She inhaled deeply. ‘I can own this. Get control.’

  She got up and sat at the desk, taking the pen in hand. She let her hand hover just over the paper, like she was about to do automatic writing. She let the frustration flow through her, rather than around her. It filled every part of her, cooling her blood and making her head feel watery, like her brain was floating. But try as she might, her hand remained still.

  That only made her more frustrated, and she flung the pen on the floor. She kicked the desk, shoving herself and the chair backward six inches, her arms crossed in annoyance.

  ‘I hate him,’ she said.

  Except that wasn’t right. She didn’t hate Seth. She didn’t know him well enough to attach such a strong emotion to him, and it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t do this.

  She shut her eyes, letters dancing in the black. Ds did pirouettes, Fs leapt and were caught by Rs. They attached themselves to each other in delicate but passionate embraces, melting into one another, before slowly separating into neat rows.

  They started to spell something, something sensible.

  The banging stopped.

  Itzy’s eyes flew open and she jerked her attention to the floor, where the bear had been. Except he was gone.

  She looked at the bed. He sat, free of his metaphorical chains, on top of her pillow. A dopey smile was stitched onto his face, his eyes glazed with plastic.

  ‘Parson Brown?’ she whispered.

  She stood and tiptoed over to him. She extended her arm and poked him, immediately drawing back her hand and holding it protectively over her chest, prepared for him to fire one of his blades at her. But he just toppled over, his stubby stuffed legs sticking up in the air.

  ‘Huh,’ she said as she admired her handiwork. ‘I did it. But how?’

  The doorbell rang downstairs. Itzy headed down to answer it and found Devon on the doorstep. She wore a pair of skinny jeans embroidered with bright blue flowers, and she had on one of her staple strappy tops. This one was fuchsia, the front covered in crisscrossing ribbons, making it look like a corset. Her feet were encased in blue silk ballet pumps.

  ‘Hey, you ready?’ Devon asked.

  Itzy’s head went blank. ‘Sorry?’

  Devon rolled her eyes. ‘Shopping. I need a new dress and you were going to buy some more of your boring stationery, remember?’

  Come to think of it, that did sound familiar. Hadn’t there been some sort of conversation about it the day before yesterday?

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Itzy. ‘I’ll just get myself together and let’s go.’

  The girls headed back up the stairs to Itzy’s room. Itzy rummaged through her dresser drawers and pulled out a clean top. It was bright red and said Heartbreaker on the front. Devon had bought it for her last birthday.

  That was before Itzy had actually become a heartbreaker, she thought ruefully.

  She brushed out the rat’s nests in her hair and pulled it up into a high ponytail. Even then, the tips of her hair
still crept down her back, almost to her elbows. When she was done, she turned around for inspection and Devon nodded in approval.

  Itzy grabbed her phone, and pulled her house key and some money out of the bag she’d brought to the funeral the day before. She stuffed the items into her jeans pockets and the girls padded out of the room, down the stairs. By the door, Itzy dipped her feet into her trainers.

  ‘Hey, you were right,’ Devon said, looking at her shoes.

  ‘About what?’ Itzy asked as she leaned over to tie the laces.

  ‘You managed to clean them. I didn’t think you could, but they look brand new. What’d you use?’

  Itzy hurriedly tied her shoes and stood up again. ‘Er, Vanish.’

  ‘On shoes?’ Devon said doubtfully.

  ‘Um…sure. Let’s go, eh?’

  They caught a bright red double-decker bus and sat on the top deck. Itzy stared out the window, at the treetops that lined the roads. It was a beautiful sunny day, the sky mostly blue, with only a few white clouds marring it. The green of the leaves was bright and reflective through the glass of the bus windows.

  The girls reached their stop and dismounted the bus at Ealing Broadway, heading into the shopping centre. Devon had to buy a dress to wear to her cousin’s wedding, and she decided to use that as an excuse to head into every clothing shop there was, even the ones that were wildly inappropriate for what she needed. They went into River Island, for instance, where Devon convinced Itzy to try on a series of outfits she would never have worn in a million years. As it grew late, Itzy left Devon in one of the changing rooms of New Look and agreed to meet her again outside the stationery shop.

  Paperchase was one of Itzy’s favourite shops, because she had an unnatural passion for all things stationery. She loved their covers, she loved crisp paper, she loved pens and holding pens and different types of ink. She loved the thrill of buying a new notebook and not knowing what might end up filling it.

  Writing was something Itzy had wanted to do ever since she was a little girl. Her earliest memory was of being three or four and shutting herself in her wardrobe to hide away from the screaming taking place outside her bedroom. It had been terrifying, so little Itzy had run from it the only way she’d known how. She had started making up stories in her head. She couldn’t remember what those stories were, anymore, because it was so long ago. Also, she had blocked out a lot of the more painful memories, as children do when traumatised.

  But what she did remember was how much she loved slipping into her own imagination. She loved creating characters, people who behaved in just the right way, who said and did all the right things. Even as she grew older and gradually immersed herself more and more in the so-called ‘real world’, she never lost that first love: her love of story-telling.

  She was inexplicably drawn to a book covered in a photograph taken by the Hubble telescope. It showed a red nebula radiating its arms to the older stars scattered around it. She placed her hand on it, as if expecting to feel heat coming off it, or some spark. Nothing came, of course. She thought she might save it for when she returned to college for her final year, next month.

  One of her classes would be English Language and she already knew she would be writing a minimum of five essays a week to get through it. She’d bought her books for the class in advance, so she could have them ready beforehand and be prepared. In that way, she was different from Devon, who had never cared much for the more academic aspect of school and preferred things like drama and music.

  But Itzy loved learning. It was something she’d inherited from her father, for whom learning had been the ultimate purpose of life. He’d valued it more than family, more than friends, more than anything, and he couldn’t help but pass a little of that on to his children.

  Itzy took the star-covered book to the cashier, paid for it and exited the shop. Devon was waiting for her. A bag hung from one of her arms.

  ‘Found something, then?’

  Devon grinned wickedly. ‘Going to upstage the bride, I think.’

  Itzy smiled. ‘Brilliant. Milkshakes?’

  They headed out of the shopping centre and walked to a café, where they ordered milkshakes, Devon’s chocolate and Itzy’s strawberry. They sipped them outside, at a metal table that wobbled every time one of them leaned on it. The sun shone down on them, drawing red out of Devon’s hair.

  ‘So Ash said you came round,’ Devon said. Itzy could tell she was trying to sound casual, though something else undercut her words.

  Itzy set her milkshake on the table. ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘How do you accidentally end up at someone’s house?’

  ‘Well, it was just where I happened to be, when I stormed out of my brother’s car.’ Itzy leaned forward and took another sip of her drink, without holding it.

  Devon’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. ‘How did you end up in your brother’s car?’

  ‘I accidentally wound up at his house.’

  They looked at each other and started laughing. ‘I think you’re going to have to start at the beginning,’ Devon said.

  So Itzy did just that. She told her everything, apart from what she was coming to think of as ‘the crazy stuff’. Devon’s mouth dropped lower and lower through the story.

  When Itzy was finished, Devon said, ‘Wow. Wow. I don’t know what to say, other than…wow.’

  Itzy took a breath. ‘There’s more.’

  ‘More than all that?’

  Itzy nodded. ‘Um…okay, this is going to sound a little nuts…but….’

  Devon already knew what she was going to say. They’d known each other long enough for her to read her best friend’s face. ‘This is about your writing, isn’t it?’

  Itzy nodded again. All around them, people strolled past languorously, as if problems didn’t touch them. She felt like she was sitting in a painting hanging on a wall for everyone to analyse. More and more, she was convinced she was epistemologically challenged.

  Devon reached over the table and took her hand. ‘Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me.’

  ‘I know,’ Itzy said. ‘I really do. It’s just…will you believe me?’

  Devon sighed. She released her friend’s hand and sank back in her chair, steadying herself with her foot before the flimsy chair could topple her onto the ground. ‘Try me.’

  Itzy willed the words to leave her mouth. After all, this wasn’t just anyone; this was Devon. Devon, who had seen her through every up and down, every ugly scene, every tear, every tantrum, every fall. Devon had never once judged her - or if she had, she’d never voiced it or treated her any differently for her mistakes.

  ‘Well,’ Itzy began, ‘Seth can…do things.’

  ‘…like?’

  ‘He kind of…draws pictures in the air and makes things appear out of nowhere,’ Itzy blurted. She grabbed her milkshake and finished it off.

  Devon looked stunned, certainly, but when she spoke, she sounded more curious than doubtful. ‘So you really can make stories come to life?’

  Itzy’s head bobbed up and down. ‘You mean you believe me?’

  ‘Itz. I’ve known you forever, right? You’ve never, ever lied to me. So either you’ve gone totally bonkers, Dizzee Rascal style…or you’re telling me the truth.’

  Itzy smiled. Seth was wrong; not everyone would reject her if they knew.

  Then again, Devon had never been ordinary people.

  ‘Thanks,’ Itzy said.

  Devon clapped her hands together like a child. ‘So come on, show me.’

  ‘Show you what?’

  ‘You know,’ she whispered conspiratorially. ‘Get out that notebook and make something happen!’

  For the second time in as many days, Itzy felt like a circus animal expected to perform tricks, but suffering from a bad case of stage fright.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, just as she had told Seth and Oz.

  Devon’s face fell. ‘Why n
ot?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t seem to make it happen when I want it to. Seth and I were up all night trying to -’

  ‘What?’ Devon interrupted her. A smile tugged on the sides of her mouth and drew it right up to her cheeks, which flushed with excitement. On her pale freckled skin, the pink stood out like the flesh of a raspberry.

  ‘Okay,’ said Itzy, realising what was happening. ‘It’s not how it sounds.’

  ‘Does Myra know you had a boy stay over?’ Devon teased.

  ‘No, she was…well, anyway, it really isn’t how it sounds,’ Itzy insisted. ‘He was training me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Devon sounded deeply disappointed. She sipped up the last of her chocolate milkshake and pushed the cup aside. ‘Training you for what?’

  ‘What makes you think it was for something?’

  Devon tilted her head to the right and narrowed her eyes like, You know better. ‘You don’t train unless you’re preparing for something. Like a marathon, right? You train for it. You run a lot, you exercise, you build up your stamina, so you don’t die when you have to do the real thing.’

  Itzy scratched her head. A strand of black hair tore loose from the ponytail and fell in her face. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ she admitted. ‘All he said was I needed to learn to control my anger.’

  Devon nodded like these were wise words. ‘You do. I approve.’ She grinned. Her eyes squinted in the sunlight, making her look a little like Oz’s cat, Eurydice. ‘Sounds like he’s a good influence.’

  ‘Oh, stop. It’s not like that. If you met him -’

  ‘Which I did,’ Devon reminded her. ‘And by the way, he was gorgeous.’

  ‘Until he starts talking,’ Itzy threw in.

  Devon cracked up, her hair shaking over her shoulder. ‘He can’t be that bad if you spent the night with him.’

  ‘Would you stop saying that?’ Itzy hissed. ‘It wasn’t like that!’

  ‘I do believe you’re blushing,’ Devon observed, her voice a mimicry of someone out of Pride and Prejudice.

  ‘I am not,’ Itzy maintained. ‘Anyway. All I mean is he’s so full of himself. He thinks he’s God’s gift and it drives me mad.’

  ‘So why are you spending time with him?’ Devon asked.

  ‘It’s not like I’m trying to. He just won’t leave me alone.’ She flicked the hair out of her face and over her ear. ‘Anyway, that was yesterday. It was only one day. It’s not like it’s going anywhere. He’ll forget about me and life can get back to normal.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Devon said. ‘So do you think your training has anything to do with your dad’s note?’

  Itzy’s blood ran cold at this reminder. ‘Why would you think that?’

  Devon shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just putting two and two together and seeing what everything’s for,’ she punned badly.

  Itzy leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands, her knuckles hard against her skin. ‘You think Seth and Oz know more than they’re letting on?’

  Devon copied Itzy’s pose. ‘You think they’re going to tell you everything when they’ve only just met you?’

  ‘Huh,’ was all Itzy had to say to that.