by Cory Barclay
Jareth looked weakened and dispirited. He was on his knees, naked and angry and afraid. He turned to his wife with a look of despair.
Past Jareth and Dosira, the incognito cat kept a delicate grip on the wobbling mirror.
Steve almost warned his group and the Reynoldses what was happening at the window. No one else seemed to notice.
“Why, Dosira?” Jareth asked. He heaved and rolled his arms out.
“You’ve changed, husband. You’ve become a monster. You would kill your own daughter!”
“And you’ve become weak! Like a damned human!” Jareth spat. “Had I known you would turn out like this, I would’ve never allowed you to copulate with that rodent!”
Steve gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to hear these details.
Before he could say anything, Jareth lashed out. “Damn you!” the weakened Ifrit cried. He lunged at his wife and clamped his hands around her throat, trying to throttle her.
“Mother!” Emilene screamed.
Dosira’s eyes bulged. She fought to swipe her husband’s hands away, but he was too strong and too enraged. His muscles bulged as he tightened his grip.
Aiden was still holding Emilene hostage and could not act swiftly enough.
Dale was . . . well, useless.
Steve was stuck in place, hardly registering anything in his beaten mind. He couldn’t find the means to rush to Dosira’s aid.
An intense piercing noise split the night. It brought everyone to their knees, including Jareth.
Annabel wailed her banshee cry.
Jareth covered his ears. He backed away from Dosira, toward the open window . . .
Annabel’s screaming ceased. The echo reverberated off the walls, through the window.
The cat meowed hysterically at the sound and the Parallel Reflector seemed to wobble in the wrong direction, toward the night . . .
“Gahh!” Dale cried after the echo died. He charged forward, the most unlikely of candidates.
“Dale, no!” Steve yelled.
Dale barreled into Jareth, using his weight to knock the Mythic backward. As Jareth fell back, he stumbled into the edge of the window.
His body knocked the Parallel Reflector and the cat from the windowsill. Noiselessly, the cat and mirror tumbled over the ledge, two stories down, into the darkness of the night . . .
Steve cried out at seeing the window now empty.
When Dale pulled away, Jareth crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach.
Dale held a bloody knife by his side.
Blood pooled around Jareth’s body. He crawled into a fetal position, trying to ignite his finger so he could solder the wound shut. He only got spritzes and sparks.
“Y-You . . . you’ve killed me, you fat, useless buffoon,” Jareth croaked.
Dale was panting. “Sorry, man, but someone had to. You’re a pretty big asshole.” He turned to Steve. “Right, Steve-o? I mean, I thought John Levi was terrible, but he’s got nothing on this guy.”
Steve’s face had paled.
“Steve . . . are you all right?” Dale asked.
“We’ve got to go!” Steve yelled. Unbeknownst to everyone else in the room, he’d witnessed the Parallel Reflector crash two stories to its utter destruction below. With Charlene the Myth Maker dead, that meant Dale and Scarlet and Aiden were stuck here. Forever.
He turned on his heels and ran out of the room.
Aiden threw Emilene toward her mother, turned, and followed Steve. So did Annabel. Dale was the last to leave the room, and he closed the door behind him.
As Steve came to the top of the stairs, he almost ran into Scarlet, leaving Tiberius’ room. He raised an eyebrow.
“He won’t be bothering us anymore,” Scarlet said with a smirk.
Steve said, “I don’t want to know.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Scarlet said nonchalantly. “I had a change of heart. You were right—I’m tired of all the killing. I knocked him over the head with a paperweight. He’s probably still alive. What was all the ruckus I heard coming from the other room?”
“Not now,” Steve said. With that he whisked down the stairs, over the rocky fragments of Shepherd and the broken body of the gorgon.
He didn’t bother heading to the underground tunnels. Instead, he pushed through the front door.
“Steve-o, what’s the rush, man?” Dale asked as he huffed and puffed trying to keep up with his friend. “You heard the genie guy: ‘Argh, you’ve killed me!’ So—”
Steve rounded the side of the house.
The sight in front of him, on the grass, amazed him.
A woman was on her back, unmoving. Then, when Steve got closer, he saw her hands twitch. She had straggly hair and a wrinkled face.
The amazing part: on her body, balanced peacefully on her stomach, was the Parallel Reflector. Unbroken.
Steve ran to the woman’s side. He stared into her face. Blood trickled out the corner of her mouth.
“Why did you help us, Misty?” Steve asked. “You . . . used your last transformation to save the Parallel Reflector. Why?”
Misty smiled painfully. “I’ve done enough ill in this world, Steve Remington. It was time I carried out your father’s wishes and did something good. Now, before I croak, promise me you’ll never let this damned mirror get in the wrong hands again . . .”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Word quickly spread of Jareth Reynolds’ downfall. Unable to spark his fiery abilities, he bled out in his own house while war raged all around him. Everyone was impressed with Steve’s covert assassination mission of the enemy leader, though that wasn’t what it was intended to be. With Overseer Onyx dead, as well as the commander of the Brethren forces, Lord Obsidian, the Brethren of Soreltris lost the heart to fight. Not a single Council member took up the mantle of command.
Dosira Reynolds didn’t shed a tear over her husband’s death. Instead, she consoled her distraught daughter. All Emilene had ever known was her family’s love. Jareth’s neglect for her safety in the face of imminent death made her cast doubt on her family for the first time. Tiberius vowed vengeance, but realized he had no army to exact that revenge. The leaderless blackguards refused to mobilize under his self-proclaimed rule.
Dale Thornton was the Vagrant Kinship hero no one expected.
The body count mounted and the fallen soldiers from both sides were brought to a single space, to be identified and honored. The Mythics of Soreltris realized their folly. Petty squabbles had been allowed to fester like a bad sore, until the wounds broke and negative energy wept from the lesion. For a brief period, the entirety of Soreltris was cast into uncertainty.
Where did their futures lie? Who would lead them? Would someone take up the crown of rebellion and ignite bitter passion in the less fortunate once more? Who would they rebel against? Would the Brethren resume governance? No one knew the answers to those questions. The three regions were thrown into limbo.
Before leaving the broken body of Misty, Steve Remington took the Parallel Reflector. He touched the mirror and, to his dismay, found that he only touched the reflective surface. His hand did not plunge into otherworldiness.
What does it mean? he wondered, slightly panicked. Are Dale and Scarlet trapped here, too?
Aiden similarly ran his hand over the smooth surface of the mirror, then explained. “It means our Bond with our Myth Maker is severed.”
Steve eyed him. The implication of the leprechaun’s words hit him like a physical thing. Before he could say anything, Selestria arrived at the front gate of the Reynolds’ mansion. She confirmed his suspicions.
“Geddon is dead,” she said. There was no emotion in her voice—neither sadness nor anger. She simply stated the fact. She had never cared for Geddon as much as he had cared for her.
“How?” Steve asked, though he regretted it. It truly didn’t matter how.
“Turned to stone by Lord Topaz, the gorgon. He was mid-transformation when it happened.” She snorted. “Perhaps one day a lone
ly traveler will run across him in the woods and pray to him. Then he can be the god he always thought he deserved to be.”
Steve thought that was an odd thing to say. Selestria had a vacant look in her eyes. She’s seen some shit during this battle, no doubt, he thought. Something was affecting her more than she let on.
“Our friend Shepherd was turned to stone also, by a female gorgon,” Steve said.
“That would be Lady Agate, then,” Selestria said. “Is she dead?”
Steve nodded.
Selestria caressed her chin thoughtfully. “Lord Topaz managed to escape, injured but alive. I suppose that means a gorgon’s death does not revert their stony gaze.” The nymph paused, then looked at Steve. “I see you gripping the Reflector like it’s going to run away. What are your plans for it?”
Steve looked down and realized he had been white-knuckling the inanimate object. Though it could not talk or make decisions, it had caused more grief than any living thing over the last few weeks. Everyone wanted to get his or her hands on the stupid thing. It held immense power. In the wrong hands, as Misty noted, it could prove an invaluable weapon.
So, Steve was not about to loosen his hold on it. Not until he took it to its rightful place.
“I have somewhere to take it,” Steve told her. “Would you like to join us?”
Selestria glanced at the faces by his side: Aiden the leprechaun, Scarlet the succubus, Annabel the banshee, and Dale the hero. They had all stuck by Steve during his most dire tribulation. Looking at those faces and what they represented to the Myth Seeker, a thought came to her. “Do you plan to lead our people? Is that why you’re clutching it so?”
Steve furrowed his brow. Rather than answer her question, he said, “I think it’s best if you come with us.”
After a momentary silence, Selestria nodded. “Very well. Where are we going?”
“Deeper into the woods.”
“You know the way even though dawn hasn’t arrived?”
Steve smiled. The truth was, ever since he’d come into contact with his mother, the Spirit Watcher, he’d felt her presence in the back of his mind. It was like she was perched in his Ethereus plane, waiting to see what became of him. He said, rather cryptically, “I have a voice to guide me.”
Selestria scoffed. “How—”
“Ominous,” Steve finished. “I know.”
After bringing Misty into the house, where Fueda would decide her final resting place, the group left the estate. They roamed through the woods, passing Manor Lee and the largest congregation of Vagrants. The aftermath of the battle was apparent as they walked by the house: tears were shed for the fallen, cries raised at the moon.
Annabel and Steve held hands while they walked. Steve held the Parallel Reflector under his free arm like a briefcase. Aiden and Dale trailed behind the lovebirds, making ill-conceived jokes to one another. Selestria and Scarlet brought up the rear, both of the women silent and introspective. Like any other Mythic during this time, they had a lot to think about.
Even though the moon hardly lit the forest, Steve somehow knew where to go. An intuition in his mind carried him forward.
He heard the running stream before he saw it. When the thin river appeared, the party followed it. Every once in a while, Steve would hear the shaking of leaves and plants nearby. His eyes would dart toward the noise, in time to see the hind legs of a wolf disappear into the flora. He smiled, wondering if anyone else noticed Fuscia following them.
After a time, the river widened. The banks became mossy and slick with microscopic life forms. The river snaked under an eroded, grass-covered bridge, then it widened into a pool.
The waterfall at the other end of the pond splashed noisily into the pond, feeding the river.
Steve halted when he saw Fuscia appear through the trees. She leaped from the forest floor to the hill where the waterfall fell from—the source of life in the forest.
Fuscia perched regally atop the hill, staring down at them. Steve thought she was staring at him. Then he realized the yellow eyes were piercing through him and gazing at someone behind him. He turned.
Scarlet stepped forward, her hands on her hips.
“Well, cousin, I was starting to think I’d never see you again,” the succubus said.
The wolf stepped closer to the edge of the hill and sniffed. Then she howled.
Steve furrowed his brow. “Cousin?”
Scarlet nodded. “I’d recognize that face anywhere. That is Fuscia.” She faced Steve with a wry smirk. “What, did our names not give our relationship away?”
Steve scratched his scalp. “I . . . never stopped to think about it.”
“Of course you didn’t, Steve Remington. You’re a doer, not a thinker.”
Steve frowned. He didn’t know whether to be offended or thankful. He ignored the slight and stared back at Fuscia. “Then she is . . .”
“Yes,” Scarlet said. “She is Fuscia Amos, the daughter of April Amos.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Steve said, shaking his head. “She’s the offspring of Overseeress Garnet!”
“Now you’re getting it.”
A black-robed, veiled figure emerged from behind the waterfall, in the cave. She walked through the waterfall but remained dry. While everyone else tensed at the Grim Reaperish sight and backed up, Steve took a step forward.
The voice from underneath the veil was light and airy. “As you now see, Steven, Fuscia plays a bigger role in all this than you originally thought.”
“Yes, mom, just like you said.”
“Mom?” Dale and Aiden said in unison. They glanced at each other, Dale shouldered the smaller man aside. “Jinx. You owe me a beer.”
Annabel squeezed Steve’s hand tighter, giving him courage he hadn’t known he needed.
Steve raised his eyebrows and looked around. His friends were still surrounding him, unlike the first time he’d met the Spirit Watcher. He turned back to her as she neared them—seemingly floating on the ground—and said, “Everyone can see and hear you? Then you’re . . . on Mythicus?”
“Yes, Steven. Momentarily.”
“I’ve brought the Reflector,” Steve said, presenting the prize from under his arm.
“I see that.”
An awkward pause fell over mother and son.
“What are you going to do with it?” Annabel asked, a bit skeptically. Her skepticism was understandable: she’d known plenty of shady parents in her day.
A shade of laughter surrounded the Spirit Watcher’s words. “That depends on what Steven does. And you, I suspect, Annabel Lee.”
Annabel gulped. “M-Me?” She turned to Steve with a frightened expression in her eyes. “What does she mean, Steve?”
Steve sighed. He had hoped he’d be given more time to think about this . . . about the three choices his mother had given him.
Reading his thoughts and the apprehension on his face, the Spirit Watcher said, “Mythicus is in turmoil, my son. But you can set things right. Although if that is not your decision, I will not slight you.”
“Decision?” Dale said. “What decision is she talking about, man?”
Steve wanted to say, “It’s complicated,” but he refrained. It really wasn’t complicated.
The Spirit Watcher explained anyway. “Dale Thornton, you have been a good friend to my son. I’m sure Shannon Barton misses you and will give you a loving embrace when you return to her.”
Dale lurched backward. “You know Shannon?”
The black veil shook from side to side. “Only from what I’ve seen.”
Dale scratched his cheek. “Steve-o, man . . . your mom is pretty trippy.”
“What can I say?” Steve said, shrugging. “I come from a pretty trippy family. A father who became a leader of a mythical realm, and a mother who became a riddling spirit woman. I guess it runs in the family.”
“What about your brother?” Dale asked.
“He’s the only normal one.”
The Spirit Watcher c
leared her throat. “As much as I’m enjoying this, son, my time on this plane is running out. You must make a decision.”
“What are my choices again?” Steve asked, lost in the jovial moment.
The Spirit Watcher scoffed and opened her mouth, but Steve held up his palm.
“I’m kidding, mom.”
“Will you tell us what the choices are?” Scarlet asked, her hands back on her hips.
“Yes, please,” Selestria said. “Especially if it’s going to affect our world.”
Steve turned to his party and looked at each of them in the face. Then he raised a finger. “Since my dad was Overseer, even for a short period of time, I guess that gives me a claim at the Brethren throne. My first option is to stay here and claim my throne. And probably start another civil war.”
He raised a second finger and turned to Dale. “My second option is to leave the mirror here, leave you all behind, and return home. I can use the mirror to return back to Terrus, I guess.”
Annabel said, “Could I go with you?”
Steve sighed. He gave a slight shake of his head. “She says you couldn’t.” He refused to meet her eyes. When he finally did, she was crestfallen.
Then he paused and raised a third finger. He took Annabel’s hand in his once more. “And the third option . . . well . . .”
Annabel looked at him hopefully, her shiny eyes wet with unshed tears.
Steve cleared his throat. He had thought long and hard about all this. He was only stalling because he didn’t know how his friends would react.
“What is it?” Scarlet asked.
“The suspense is killing us, Steve-o,” Dale said.
“The third option is to remain here and take my mother’s place. But in doing so, I would never get to see you guys again.”
Dale cried out, “Why?!”
Steve felt a lump in his throat.
The Spirit Watcher answered for him. “Because he would become the guardian of the Parallel Reflector. He would keep it protected and hidden from greedy, unwelcome hands.”
Dale’s mouth fell open.
The tears rolled down Annabel’s cheeks, unbidden. She sniffled and dipped her head away from Steve.