by Cory Barclay
“Is this about Annabel?”
Steve sighed. “Isn’t it always?”
“You’re hopeless, man.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same thing for Shannon?”
Dale reddened and looked away. “What does she look like, this Poo Poo Killer?”
“Like a little Hawaiian woman. But you’d better learn her name correctly. It’s Pua Kila. Say it with me: P-U-A—”
“Oh, fuck off,” Dale said in mock exasperation, flapping his hand at Steve. “Don’t you have things to do?”
Steve smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you soon, Fats.”
STEVE AWOKE AND IMMEDIATELY went for a skin of water that hung from the saddle of the nearest horse. The sky was turning pale and gray, indicative of daytime fast approaching. He was leaning against a rock in the clearing with the pond, the one he recognized.
Aiden was refilling a skin of water in the pond. When he heard Steve jerk away, he turned and said, “Well, are we ready to move? Dawn’s almost here, lad. The vampires will be sleeping soon.”
“Shit,” Steve said. He hadn’t thought about that. Oh well, he thought. I can still make moves with Geddon and Selestria until Constantin is awake. That is if I can speak with Geddon without trying to kill him . . .
“Not quite,” Steve said, shaking his head. His thoughts cleared and he took a deep breath, taking in the crisp, forest air.
He steeled himself, wrapped his arms around his chest, and said, “There’s one more thing I have to do. I won’t be long.”
Aiden sighed, lifted the skin of water from the pond, and said, “Dammit, man.” He turned to Steve, but Steve’s head was already resting against the rock and his eyes were closed.
Steve’s mind swirled through a dark web of tunnels, like a blood cell traveling through a main artery. He twisted and turned and seemed to be swimming in the cosmos, unaware of space or time or direction. As his mind narrowed and tried to grasp at bits of information on this strange highway, he saw the piece he was looking for—a light at the end of the tunnel. He willed his mind to go in that direction, and as the light drew nearer, it grew bigger . . .
Then he was on the other side of the light.
He stood in a small, dark room. He’d been here before, but it still came as a sudden shock to him. The room was filthy, cold, and damp. He hoped it was only Ethereus that was so cold, that the cell in Mythicus was room temperature. But when he looked down at a figure in the shadows, he could see a puff of breath coming from his mouth.
“Is that you, Steve?” the voice croaked from the shadows.
Steve recognized the voice. He frowned as his heart sank. “Yes, father, it’s me,” he said. His mother hadn’t been lying: Richard sounded like shit, like he was weak and not going to last much longer.
Rather than try standing up, the former Overseer scooted out of the shadows, but remained resting against the wall. When he came into the dim light, Steve yelped. He was appalled at what he saw.
Richard Remington was a shell of his former self—gaunt, his skin weathered and crackling. He had been a robust man a few days before. Now all that former muscle and sinew sagged from his bones like ribs on a hot grill. His eyes were yellow, the rims bloodshot, and his face was sallow and sickly. His thick salt-and-pepper hair seemed to be falling out in patches, covering the ground.
Steve almost couldn’t bear to see his father like that. He looked like a dead man that had been recently exhumed from a gravesite. Steve almost wished he’d stayed dead.
“What the hell happened to you, dad?” Steve asked, his voice soft and sad.
Richard chuckled, a raspy, weak sound. “My stupid decisions and shitty deeds have finally caught up to me, son. It seems I am not long for this world . . .”
Steve creased his brow. In a low voice, he said, “That’s what mothe—I mean. Never mind. I feel like I’ve heard that before.”
Richard looked up at his son, squinting against the dim light. Terrified wonder plagued his face. “Why have you come, son? Not that I’m angry you did.”
“I wanted to . . . say goodbye. I guess.”
Richard’s face sunk—if it was possible to sink more than it naturally already had. He said, “I guess you won’t be joining me when I retrieve my throne, then?”
Steve leaned against the wall across from his father and lowered himself until he was sitting. He shook his head and sighed. He’s riddled with delusions now . . . great—
“They’re not delusions!” Richard snapped. His eyes bulged wildly, like he was lost. Then his body deflated and he fell back into a heap against the wall. He coughed, spat on the ground next to him, and sighed.
Steve saw that the phlegm was dark and thick, as if his father had spit out part of his own being.
He desperately wanted to change the subject. He almost wanted to bring up his mother, but knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t even think about her, lest Richard read his thoughts. So, he said, “Who did this to you?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, son.”
“Try me.”
Richard breathed raggedly. He caught his breath and nodded. “It was that cold bitch, Dosira. I’ve always had a weakness for powerful, beautiful women, haven’t I?”
Steve realized he’d found an in to talk about his mother, if only in passing. He said, “I guess mom was never good enough for you, huh?”
Richard bared yellow teeth and chuckled. “Your mother was the only woman who ever scared me. Did you know that?” He looked away and shook his head. “I suppose I should have been more cautious and attentive of the other women I surrounded myself with . . .”
“Are you talking about Dosira Reynolds?” Steve asked dumbly once his father trailed off. He couldn’t believe she could have had something to do with his father’s dreadful state.
Richard nodded. He paused, and the silence built. For a moment, Steve wasn’t sure if his father was still breathing. He couldn’t open his mouth, from fear, and when he finally found the courage, Richard’s lulling head popped up.
“She stole my soul, son. I don’t know how—” he broke into a cackle and leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “Who am I fooling? Of course I know how. She fucked it out of me. I just didn’t know she could do that. I guess I should’ve expected something like that from these damn Mythics . . .”
Steve pursed his lips. “I’d heard of something like that. But I’d also heard it was only a folktale.” Shepherd had said something about undines—Dosira’s race—copulating with humans to steal their soul. And with that human soul, they could become immortal.
Something clicked in Steve’s mind. His eyebrows jumped as a look of shock overcame him.
“What is it?”
Steve didn’t want to torment his father with more pain, but he figured he had a right to know, especially in his dying days.
“Do you think that’s why they kept you on the throne for so long?” Steve asked, gently as possible. He knew the words would likely raise the ire of his father.
But, surprisingly, Richard simply sighed. He’d given up. He was defeated, and that was even more painful to see. Steve missed the raging, unruly temper he used to show. At least then he’d shown a spark of life.
“I suspect so,” Richard said. “It seems Jareth could have taken over anytime he wanted.” He ran a hand across his chin, which made a sound like wood going over sandpaper. “Then again, he didn’t have the votes to overthrow me until the Lees’ recent rise in the nobility . . .”
“Maybe this was happenstance, then,” Steve said.
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
Another pause followed, and Steve felt like he was out of things to say. He knew there was nothing he could do to comfort his father. With his soul gone, his body would wither away. He quite possibly even deserved it, but Steve still felt his heart breaking. It was his father, after all. Even with the baggage from years past, he knew he’d never be the same when he left this room
.
So he stayed as long as possible. Even though it was painful to witness.
In fact, Richard seemed to be fading by the minute.
Maybe it was good, then, that Richard kept his dream alive: his hope of reclaiming his throne. Whatever it took to ease his passing . . .
Steve suddenly thought back to the first time he’d met Annabel, at the cemetery. She’d been playing guitar to “ease the passing” of a new tenant. Steve had been at his father’s funeral then, and had asked Annabel to “ease his passing” sometime, because he was a mean old man.
Now, he really did want to ease his father’s passing. Because the moment was real.
Tears came to his eyes for the second time that day, and for the second time over lost family.
“Do something for me, son,” Richard croaked, huddling beneath his blanket for warmth.
Steve’s glassy eyes opened wide.
“Get that girl you’re so fond of,” Richard said, “and take her away from here. Fuck the Reynoldses, fuck the Lees, fuck the Vagrants, fuck the Brethren, and fuck the Parallel fucking Reflector. Fuck Mythicus. Take Annabel and get her out of here. Don’t make the same mistake I did, son. This place will consume you. It’s a whole new world here, and I was foolish to fall for its wiles, but it’ll eat you up and spit you out. Can you do that for me?”
The tears welling in Steve’s eyes fell freely, tracking down his cheeks. He nodded and sniffled, but there was a lump in his throat and he was unable to speak.
Somehow, some way—through familial bonds that ran deeper than blood, somehow part of his DNA—Richard had nailed it. The words he spoke were the gist of the Spirit Watcher’s “third option.” There was more to it, of course, but his words were enough to steer Steve in that direction, firmly and absolutely.
“Can you do that for me?” Richard repeated. No tears came to his eyes, but his voice was breaking now, like he was losing the will or ability to talk.
Steve nodded. “Yes, dad, I can do that. But what about the Parallel Reflector? Under Jareth’s control—”
“What did I just say about that fucking mirror? Jareth has moved it to his house—he’s moved the whole Brethren Overseer base from this castle to his place in the woods. He’s left me here to rot. He’s practically impenetrable there, so there’s no point in getting yourself killed trying to be a hero. I just told you, don’t make the same mistake I did!”
The word “mistake” stuck in Steve’s mind. As he nodded, he had a sudden urge to ask a question that had been bugging him. He wanted to know how Overseeress Garnet had died. It was a mystery to everyone, it seemed, but surely his dad—Garnet’s lover—had the inside scoop.
But, then again, maybe some things were better off being taken to the grave. He didn’t want to upset his father any more than he already had. Bringing up past lovers would only stress his current, terrible predicament, no doubt.
Instead, Steve honed in on another thing he noticed. “How do you know Jareth moved the mirror if you’ve been stuck in here all this time?”
Richard smiled crookedly. “I thought Misty had betrayed me, but I was wrong. She’s been my ears and eyes while I’ve been stuck here. I’ll tell you, that witchy cat-woman knows some delicious secrets, my boy. Maybe when I leave this place, you can take her with you.”
Steve scoffed. “The same Cat-Sith that spied on my people and was responsible for many of their deaths? You don’t know the grief that fucking feline has caused, dad.”
Richard chuckled. “Oh, I’m aware. Fine then. Leave her here. I’m sure she can fend for herself. Maybe she’ll protect these halls from ghostly invaders. Did you know she can only change from a cat into a woman nine times, and the last time she stays a cat forever?”
Steve nodded. “I’ve heard. What’s your point?”
“I believe she’s made the transformation eight times. There’d better be a good reason for her to do it a ninth . . .”
Silence followed Richard’s words, and he started breathing shallowly. It hurt Steve too much to watch. For all the evil his father had done, none of it had actually been directed at him, so he could almost look past it. What was his crime with Steve, anyway? He’d only wanted to rule the Brethren with his son by his side. The problem, of course, was that he’d had hostages and had tried to start a war to get what he wanted.
“I’m going to miss you, dad,” Steve blurted out. He could feel his hold on Ethereus waning, the tether beginning to snap.
Richard closed his eyes. “Don’t worry about . . . me . . . son. I’m sure you’ll . . . see . . . me soon.” At his slow speech, Steve knew it was time to go.
Standing, he looked down at his father one last time. He tried to get a lasting impression of the feeble man in front of him, if only so he could remember back to better times. Then again, he hadn’t really had “better” times with his father.
This final image would have to do.
He watched his father’s chest gently rise and fall, his head lulling on a weak neck. Steve closed his eyes and leaped back into the cosmic abyss.
He was keenly aware of something, too. Unbeknownst to Richard, he had said something important that stuck with Steve.
In the midst of his rambling about getting the girl and getting out, he’d told Steve exactly where he needed to strike.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It didn’t take Steve and Aiden much longer to reach the Lee estate. When Steve returned back to Mythicus from his foray into Ethereus, the sky was light blue and filled with clouds. The sun fought to push through the clouds. It brightened the forest floor as Steve and Aiden moved through it.
Steve saw the long driveway in the distance, snaking through the trees, leading to the front of the house. He crept down the path, looking right and left over and over again. He feared blackguards would have the place surrounded, but his fears were unfounded.
Aiden had no time for Steve’s careful approach. He marched with his head held high.
“You have little fear of a blackguard ambush, I see,” Steve whispered as Aiden passed him.
Aiden rolled his shoulders back, puffing out his chest. “If they’re there, I hope I don’t see my death coming. What’s the point of worrying about something you can’t change?”
Steve scratched his head, bewildered by Aiden’s lax attitude toward dying. He did stand a bit straighter, though.
Aiden slowed his pace to allow Steve to catch up. Then he smiled wryly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in my days of gambling, it’s that you can’t sweat the small stuff, mate.”
“Dying is ‘small stuff’?”
“It’s better than being captured, I can tell you that. I wouldn’t do well in a prison cell, mate. Don’t think I’d last long.”
Steve sighed. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“Suit yourself,” Aiden said, spreading his arms out.
They made it the rest of the way to the big double doors. No enemies blocked their path. In fact, the forest morning was strangely serene. The chirping of birds and mating calls of small animals echoed through the trees.
Steve put his fist up to knock, but before he could, both doors swung open.
Geddon stood in the way, holding both doors in a dramatic pose.
“How?” Steve asked.
“We’re Bound,” Geddon reminded him. “I knew you were en route.” He stepped aside and added, “Come in, come in.”
“Did you tell Constantin and Mariana we were coming?” Steve asked apprehensively.
Geddon was slow to respond, but he eventually shook his head. “They’re headed off to bed soon, if they haven’t already. You have nothing to fear from them. They’re in a state.”
Steve gulped, afraid to pose his next question.
“What kind of . . . state?” he asked. In his heart, he already knew the answer to his unasked question.
“A . . . tizzy, might be most appropriate.”
Exhaling deeply, Steve felt his shoulders slump. “Annabel?”
he croaked.
Geddon shook his head. “She hasn’t returned.”
He didn’t give Steve any time to grieve or overanalyze the situation. He said, “Stay out there too long and you might attract unwanted attention, Steve.” Then he disappeared down a hallway.
Aiden took the hint first and waltzed in behind Geddon. Steve despaired and stood still. When Aiden nudged him hard in the shoulder as he walked by, Steve snapped out of it and followed the leprechaun.
He closed the door and they followed Geddon down the hall, into the main living room. He glanced to his right at the elegant stairs leading up to the bedrooms, and then did a double take.
Constantin stood at the top of the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared down at Steve and Aiden. When Steve locked eyes with the vampire, he felt his skin crawl: he seemed to be staring right into Steve’s soul.
“What are you doing here?” Constantin demanded.
In the past, Steve might have backed down. This time, though, he rounded on the vampire and mimicked his cross-armed stance. “Same thing I’m always trying to do, Constantin: save your daughter from disaster.”
Constantin scoffed. “Who says she needs saving? And what makes you think you’re up to the task?”
Steve narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Even after the shenanigans with Tiberius and the Brethren, Constantin still didn’t approve of his and Annabel’s feelings for one another. It pissed Steve off.
“Because I seem to be the only one who gives a shit about her,” Steve said in a low voice.
Constantin’s eyes widened. He bared his teeth and literally flew down the stairs, his feet hardly touching the carpeted steps. He moved so blindingly fast that his black cloak billowed behind him.
Instinctively, Steve backpedaled. Then he caught himself and rooted himself to the ground. Constantin came to stand directly in font of him, a few inches from Steve’s face. It was reminiscent of the first time Steve had met Constantin, in his own Ethereus plane, when the vampire had woken him up by tearing out his throat.