by Cory Barclay
“Oh,” Charlene said, chuckling. “Right. Well, I can see them, so that’s all that matters.”
“How, though? Scarlet could see you at the concert yesterday.”
“I severed my Bond on Terrus,” Charlene said. “I’m on Mythicus. I, too, have some business to take care of here. You must remember, us Myth Makers and Seekers can see everyone. But since the humans and Mythics aren’t on my plane, they can’t see me.”
“How does this work, then?”
“Easy. Tell them to stick out their hands. The chosen three, that is.”
Steve took a deep breath. He turned to his friends. “Are you guys ready?”
The group exchanged confused looks. Scarlet said, “Wait,” reached into her pocket, and handed Steve her car keys. “Don’t get my car towed.”
“Okay. Scarlet, Dale, Shepherd . . . stick out your hands,” Steve said.
They did as told.
Charlene reached into her jacket and pulled out three small objects. They were little Lego people, each with his own little hairdo. She reached out and placed a toy in each person’s hand, starting with Scarlet, then Dale, then Shepherd.
Scarlet seemed the least surprised when she felt the Lego in her hand. Her eyebrows hopped as Charlene came into view, then she nodded to the blue-haired girl.
Dale yelled, “Holy shit!” and jumped back three feet, dropping the Lego almost the instant it touched his hand.
“Don’t lose that,” Charlene said. “It’s your only way out of here.”
“W-Where . . . is here, exactly?” Dale asked.
Charlene smiled, the ring on her upper lip moving. “Welcome to Mythicus.” Her voice was hoarse. She also looked like she’d aged over the last twenty seconds. She no longer looked like a high schooler.
Dale’s mouth dropped open. Charlene handed the last toy to Shepherd, who wore a stern expression. Only Dale had given the immediate reaction Steve expected. It had been similar to his own reaction the first time he’d been Seared to Mythicus.
Steve said to his friends in Mythicus, “Remember where we’re meeting. Scarlet, you know where Aiden’s house is, right?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you there tomorrow, if all goes well.”
Steve nodded to her, turned to Charlene, and said, “Thank you so much for your help.”
Charlene was clearly weakened. She winced, closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “Don’t thank me. Thank Nersi. Without her, there’s no way in hell I would’ve done this.” Then she slowly ventured off down the hill, the way she’d come.
“Wait!” Steve cried. “What if my friends need to find you, to get back home?”
Charlene shrugged but didn’t stop walking. “I’ll find them when I’m ready.”
Aiden frowned and said, “Well, shit. I can’t see anyone anymore.”
Steve put an arm over Aiden’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ve got a plan for us.”
And then there were two.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Annabel watched her father’s face for a reaction. But there was only a cold, blank expression.
Along with Fuscia, Pua Kila, and Constantin, she stood over the excavated burial ground of her brother, Charles.
Within seconds, Constantin’s icy demeanor melted away.
“My son,” he said, his voice breaking. “How could they do such a thing to you?”
Annabel put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She saw more emotion from her father in that moment than she had in decades.
The cool cave should have preserved the body well. But the waterfall behind them eroded and decayed the body at an alarming rate. Charles’ skin was bloated and white. He did not seem at peace.
They had traveled through the night to reach the burial ground, Fuscia having led them. The wolf-woman was in human form, kneeling next to the hole, tears falling down her cheeks.
Constantin said, “It is done, then. The proof is in front of me. The Reynoldses took my son from me.”
Fuscia stood and turned to the vampire. “What will you do?”
“First, we must extricate my son’s body and bring him home for a proper—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Fuscia said.
Constantin clenched his jaw. “I know.” He separated himself from Annabel, having had enough warmth and attention to last until the next decade. He put his arms over his chest. “If we are to combat the Reynoldses, we will need allies. They are powerful.”
“Will you present Charles to the Council, Father?” Annabel asked.
“Yes. After my last conversation with Overseer Malachite, however, I don’t know how much good it will do. But I will try, my dear.”
Pua Kila, who had been silent until this point, joined the half-circle. “What allies do you seek?”
Constantin faced the Nawao queen. “Ones like you, Pua Kila. If you would join me . . .”
Pua Kila thought for a moment. As a way of answering, she told a story. “My husband, Ulu Koa, once told Steve Remington that to kill a sacred animal of the forest was to call upon the wrath of the forest itself.”
“I remember,” Annabel said. “I was there.”
“I am the forest, my lord,” Pua Kila continued. “These evil folk have done a terrible thing. They must pay for their actions.”
“Then that is a yes?” Constantin asked.
Pua Kila nodded firmly. “I will rouse my Nawao kinsmen. You have supported us during this tumultuous time, so we will support you during yours.”
“Thank you.”
Fuscia said, “I, too, will help. My battle is with the ones who did this to poor Charles. But it will not be enough to strike against the Council. You should know that.”
“I do,” Constantin said. “Which is why I must seek allies elsewhere. I am new to the Council and have no guarantee any of them will help me. I need to search for other allies . . . perhaps from the Vagrant Kinsmen.”
“You believe they’re still intact after the death of their leader?” Pua Kila asked. She had been at the wedding when Geddon had killed Tetsuo.
“In some fractured form, yes, I do.” Constantin sighed and turned away from his dead son. He stared through the rippling waterfall at the mouth of the cave.
Pua Kila said, “I know two who might aid your cause, my lord.”
Constantin said nothing, lost in thought, staring through the mesmerizing waterfall.
Annbael said, “Who?”
“Geddon and Selestria. They are the two most powerful candidates of the Kinship now.”
“The Brethren captured them following the wedding,” Constantin said. “I had a meeting with the Council recently. Overseer Malachite informed us they were prisoners and being interrogated.”
“Why?” Annabel asked.
“For the same reason we now need them—to find the bulk of the Kinship’s whereabouts.”
“Damn,” Annabel said.
Constantin put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, showing that rare flash of empathy. He took one last look at his son, then said, “Come, I’d like to bring my son home before dawn. On our way back, we will discuss how we can aid Geddon and Selestria.”
GEDDON STRUGGLED TO rise after being knocked down for the third time. His head felt sluggish against the hardwood floor. Blood trickled down his chin where he’d been kicked in the jaw.
He knelt in the same room as the night before, when Overseer Malachite had warned him to give up his allies or else he’d kill Selestria. Unfortunately, Selestria was not in the room with him now, which made things harder and easier. On one hand, he was taking more of a beating than he would have in front of Selestria. Malachite was not holding back. On the other hand, without Selestria in the room, he didn’t feel the shame of speaking about his allies.
Geddon wasn’t sure he still had allies, but knew he would lose the love of his life if he didn’t give Malachite something.
“Well?” Malachite asked, taking a seat. He leaned forward, re
ady to pounce on Geddon again.
“You promise Selestria will be safe?” Geddon asked for the third or fourth time.
The Overseer rolled his eyes. “I will not repeat myself again, boy.”
Geddon bristled at being called “boy.” He said, “We were not lying about Selestria’s abilities. She cannot help you find the people you’re looking for.”
“I am aware,” Malachite said. “I have my own Myth Hunter, you see, and she has told me as much.” At that moment, a cat jumped into the lighted part of the room and pounced on Malachite’s chair.
Geddon frowned. “Misty,” he muttered. The Cat-Sith spy. The cat he thought had been so harmless—an honorary member of the Vagrants—had betrayed him atop the Bayfog Cliffs. She was responsible for getting Kaiko killed and luring the blackguards to Geddon’s hideaway. She was responsible for Ulu Koa’s death, too. Misty was much more of a menace and threat than her cute feline face appeared.
Malachite said, “It’s nothing personal, but I must use every avenue against your kind. You should be flattered: I’m calling you clever.”
“You’re a twisted bastard,” Geddon replied.
Malachite’s grin faded. He stood from his chair angrily, knocking it aside. Geddon flinched as the Overseer lunged toward him. Malachite stopped within five inches of the man.
“I’ve heard enough talk, Geddon. I know your position in the Kinship, so tell me where your allies are.”
Geddon’s mouth turned into a firm, straight line.
“If you don’t speak now, Selestria will die in the next room. No, in fact, I’ll bring her in here so you can watch her suffer.”
Geddon bared his teeth and growled like a beast. He said, “Whom do you wish to know about?”
“Let’s start with my son.”
Geddon jerked his head back. “What?”
Malachite smiled. “I know you are his Myth Maker, Geddon. And I know, after he went through the Parallel Reflector, that he is still Bound to you. Tell me where the Reflector led him.”
After a moment’s pause, Geddon opened his mouth to speak. He closed it, shook his head. “Do you wish to see your son dead?”
“My intention with my son is of no concern to you,” Malachite said with a scoff.
Geddon took a deep breath, then closed his eyes. He started to sweat and could feel a power raging inside him. Seconds later, his eyes shot open. He wobbled and almost fell sideways. “Your son is in Terrus. Safe.”
“Where in Terrus?”
“Downtown, San Diego.”
“Interesting,” Malachite said. “And is he on the move?”
Geddon screwed up his face in confusion. “Why would he be? He has nothing there. He has no way of getting back here, because, as you said, I am still Bound to him. Another Myth Maker cannot bring him here.”
“But he is already on Terrus, without your help. Are you saying you can bring him back here?”
“Yes,” Geddon said, shrugging. “The moment I interact with him, as his Maker, he will be Seared back to Mythicus. Until I sever our Bond, in which case he would return to Terrus.”
Malachite rubbed his chin for a moment, contemplating. “Interesting, Geddon. How do you know this?”
“Because I know the history of the Parallel Reflector, which has been around much longer than you have. I’ve heard the tales and know the history of Mythics and humans returning to Mythicus without its help.”
Overseer Malachite nodded thoughtfully. He said, “You may have just saved your own life.”
Geddon said, “What else do you want?”
“Your allies, Geddon. Your Kinship allies . . .”
KRIK RATTLED OFF A list of names to his colleagues. He followed with a series of questions.
“Bilboo, you’ve been on the case of the adulteress harpy for weeks. What have you discovered? Did she cheat on her husband or not?”
The little imp, Bilboo, stood on his chair, so he was taller than the other imps in the room. His skinny legs rattled and his knees bumped together. He did not fair well publicly speaking, but he had to. “She did, sir. I have proof of the harpy’s infidelity. The case will wrap up within the week. I will inform her husband.”
“Good, good,” Krik said. He too was an imp, but he wore a little hat that designated his leadership over the others in the room. Krik was the proprietor and executive officer of Krik’s Investigative Services. It was a private investigation firm known throughout Northern Soreltris for doing quick work and getting exemplary results.
The imp detective sat at the head of a small room and looked out at the sea of green, devilish faces. Imps got a bad rap for their mischievous ways, but when they put their talents to good use, they were quite a benefit to society.
He put the paper aside and picked up another one. “Zeta, you’re in charge of Lobek the dwarf’s claim against his partners, for embezzlement. How is the situation going?”
Zeta, a female investigator, stood on her chair, drawing a few whistles from the other imps. She had the stringy black hair that made male imps swoon and she knew how to work a crowd. She pushed out her small hips. “Sir, I believe Lobek is being disingenuous with his returns and statements. He wants me to accuse his partners of misappropriating funds, but he doesn’t allow me to search his records. I will dig a bit deeper, but he’s being quite uncooperative.”
Krik sighed as he watched Zeta sit. His blood boiled a bit, but he quickly calmed down. “That’s a shame, Zeta, because Lobek’s is a valuable account. Perhaps it is because you are a woman that he doesn’t divulge the information you need.”
Zeta frowned. “No need for sexism, sir,” she said. She was never afraid to speak her mind.
Krik shrugged. “If you can’t find something on his partners within the week, I will have to pass the torch to another investigator.”
Zeta groaned. “As long as it isn’t Pigmar.”
Pigmar, an imp who had recently taken to bodybuilding, and looked swollen and furious, jumped from his chair. “What did I do?”
A few chuckles rose from the other ten or so diminutive investigators in the room.
“You know what you did!” Zeta cried out, pointing an accusing finger at the muscled imp.
The door to the log cabin flew open and knocked against the wall with a bang, silencing the crowd.
Three men in black cloaks and black armor barreled into the room. Black helmets covered their faces.
“What is this?” Krik cried out in protest as the blackguards marched through the aisle in the center of the room. “We’re closed for business, sirs!”
The blackguards spread out like a V at the front of the group of imps, surrounding Krik’s table. Sweat beaded Krik’s forehead as his bulging eyes surveyed the blackguards before him. Their demeanor was calm and indifferent, which was even more frightening than them being angry.
Just then, a fourth person waltzed into the overcrowded room. A few gasps escaped the lips of the imp investigators.
Lord Obsidian was a stern dwarf who wore brown and red armor, even though it was the middle of the night. Everyone was frightened of Obsidian, who wasn’t much taller than an imp, but much wider and scarier. A large hammer slung across his back clinked against his armor as he walked toward Krik’s table.
“L-Lord Obsidian, what are you doing here at such a late hour?” Krik asked, his voice cracking as he spoke.
“What are you doing in the middle of the night in such a congregation, Detective Krik?”
Krik shrugged, trying to get control of his fear. “These are our standard operating hours, my lord. We discuss our cases before the morning arrives and we get to work.”
Lord Obsidian ran a hand through his long, orange beard. “I see. Well, tell your employees they may be excused.”
Krik heard a few people shuffling in their seats, but no one moved. “I’ll do no such thing, my lord,” he said, frightened but unbending. This was his business, after all. Even if Lord Obsidian was the protector of the region, he had no right
! This was bad for business. “I’ll have to ask you to leave, my lord—”
“Very well,” Obsidian said, ignoring the imp’s complaint. “Krik, you have been accused of aiding and abetting the Vagrant Kinship cause, as a commander in their rebellion.”
More gasps erupted from the room, even though half the investigators there were Kinship members. Krik appreciated their display of dramatics. But his relief was short-lived. “I’ve done no such thing!”
Lord Obsidian ignored the imp again. “As such, I have been commanded by Overseer Malachite to—”
Krik rose to his feet, on the other side of the table from Obsidian, trying to show his courage and anger.
Lord Obsidian reached behind him. He gripped the handle of his hammer and in one fluid motion swung the blunt, iron object across his body. The head of the hammer struck Krik across the face with a dull, metallic thud. Krik’s cheek and jaw flattened, his eye exploded, and his skull cracked as he was flung from his chair. He landed on the ground with a sickening plop.
There was a moment of absolute silence as Lord Obsidian slung his hammer back over his shoulder. The dwarf cleared his throat and said, matter-of-factly, “Overseer Malachite ordered me to carry out his judgment on the matter.”
The dwarf took one look at the dead imp in front of him. He turned on his heels and marched toward the door, his blackguards in tow.
“Murder!” the usually frightened Bilboo shouted as Lord Obsidian passed. It raised an uproar, all the imps yelling out in unison.
“Where’s the proof of his guilt?!” Zeta cried out.
Lord Obsidian stopped at the door. “Krik has been judged by the Brethren Council,” he said. “His guilt is irrelevant.” He turned to Zeta. “You can thank Geddon for that.”
Then he left.
While the imps were in a state of pandemonium, one man stayed calm. His sad eyes looked out over his colleagues. “Geddon has betrayed us, like he betrayed Tetsuo!” Pigmar said, tears falling from his cheeks.
Zeta turned to the muscled imp. “Well, I hear Lobek the dwarf is Lord Obsidian’s cousin. Maybe he didn’t want us delving any deeper into the case?”