The Spirit Watcher

by Cory Barclay

  Aiden reached a hand into his jacket again.

  “No!” Steve cried, moving to stand in front of the leprechaun.

  “Steven Remington, is that you?” Emilene asked dreamily, either because she was half-asleep or because she still had feelings for the one that got away.

  A new idea dawned on Steve.

  “We have to go, man,” Dale said. “We just killed a dude.”

  Steve shook his head. “Not until we get the mirror.”

  “She probably just woke up half the house!” Dale complained.

  “Emilene,” Steve said confidently, taking a step toward her. “You’re not dreaming. It is me.”

  “What are you doing here?” Emilene asked. Her voice was cautious but hopeful.

  “Come with us and see,” Steve said.

  Annabel gasped.

  Dale said, “What in God’s name—”

  “I’ve come for you, Emilene,” Steve said. His voice sounded strange, and inside his mind was reeling. This was the definition of “winging it,” and yet, somehow he knew Emilene would oblige him. He could see it in her eyes.

  To his surprise, Annabel made no complaint. She must have heard the timbre of his voice, knowing that he was playing a part once more.

  “I . . . I’m not supposed to,” Emilene said. “Father would get angry.”

  “He doesn’t need to know.”

  “Why is there a dead man in the hallway?” she asked.

  Steve almost stuttered, but quickly recovered. “He . . . was trying to stop me from getting to you.”

  “Annabel, what are you doing out here? It’s getting late.” Emilene was more confused than anything. She didn’t seem particularly scared—only startled at all the people in her hallway. But once she laid eyes on Steve, her fears seemed to vanish.

  “Emmy, there is a war going on outside. How could you sleep during a time like this?” Annabel said, ignoring Emilene’s question.

  Steve approved of Annabel’s quick wit, melding into the part.

  “Come,” Annabel said, reaching out her hand. “Follow us. You won’t be disappointed. Will she, Steve?” She spoke the last question flatly, as if she didn’t trust Steve to deliver on whatever promise he’d made.

  “Of course,” Steve said. “Come on, Emilene. We’ve got to go. I’ll explain everything to your father.”

  “Father hates you,” Emilene said. But she had taken three steps forward. Maybe it was the fact Father hated him that she obliged.

  “Then I’ll explain,” Annabel said.

  After a brief hesitation, Emilene shrugged. The youngest member of the Reynolds family walked forward and passed Tiberius’ door.

  Steve’s heart leaped. Now he only needed to get to Jareth’s room, where he knew the Parallel Reflector would be kept.

  Then everything flew into chaos.

  Emilene passed her brother’s door at the perfectly wrong time. As she did, a loud grunt bellowed from inside. Then Scarlet’s acting took over and she moaned, loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear.

  “Annabel, what’s going on in there? Is that Tiberius?” Emilene reached for the handle.

  Shepherd gritted his teeth at hearing Scarlet give way to her passions. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that he wanted to barge into that room . . .

  “Wait, Shep, no!”

  Before Emilene could turn the doorknob, Shepherd’s hand shot out and caught her wrist.

  “Hey!” Emilene cried out. “Unhand me!” Whatever trance she’d been in was severed.

  “Come on!” Steve cried, no longer able to control the situation. He spun around and dashed across the hall, passing the top of the stairs to the other side of the balcony. He heard a strange hissing coming from downstairs, but didn’t bother to turn and look.

  “Intruders!” a voice called from halfway down the stairs. It was a woman’s voice.

  Everything happened so quickly.

  The majority of the group had passed the stairs. But as Shepherd ran with Emilene in tow, he turned to look downstairs.

  A woman with a head full of snakes was tramping up the steps.

  Shepherd raised his eyes in surprise as they met the gorgon’s.

  Immediately Shepherd froze, his mouth agape. He still held on to Emilene’s hand as hard stone began to encase his body.

  Steve and the rest of the group turned at the terrible sound: a knotted, twisted clashing of rock on skin.

  By the time the whole group had turned, Shepherd had become a statue, stuck in a shocked pose.

  Emilene struggled to slip her slender wrist from Shepherd’s tight, stony grip. Tears flew from her face as she cried out.

  The gorgon was halfway up the steps, her snakes whistling in grim satisfaction.

  Finally, Emilene freed herself. She glanced down at the person running up the stairs—it was a woman she’d never seen before.

  Frightened and without thinking, Emilene clenched her jaw and put her hands on Shepherd’s back. Then she pushed as hard as she could.

  “NO!” Steve cried.

  Shepherd’s body tipped forward—an already heavy person made heavier by stone. Unbalanced from the way he stood, it didn’t take much for Emilene to find the leverage to push him completely over.

  Shepherd’s body flew through the air, in slow motion, down the stairs.

  At the last moment, the gorgon gaining the steps looked up at the whirling sound in the air. Her eyes bulged as she realized the statue of her own creation was hurtling directly toward her.

  The stairs were not wide enough, and she was not quick enough, to dodge.

  Shepherd’s stony body smashed into the gorgon and sent her tumbling backward, down the steps.

  As Shepherd’s body landed, it crashed into a million fragments, exploding all over the steps.

  The gorgon tumbled headlong down the stairs. At a certain point during her long fall, a loud snap pierced the air.

  She landed at the bottom of the stairs, a misshapen, twisted wreck, her head pointing at an odd angle. She didn’t move again.

  Emilene put her hands to her mouth in astonishment at the carnage she’d caused. Then, without looking at the group, she made a run for it down the stairs.

  Aiden was closest to the stairs and he’d had years of practice snapping his wrist out to launch gold coins. He made the same motion he’d made thousands of times and plucked her out of the air, into his firm grip.

  Realizing he was losing everything, including his friends and his mind, Steve stormed down the hall. Coming to the door at the end of the hall, he had no inclination to stop his charge. He kicked out as hard as he could and the door burst open, breaking on its hinges.

  He barreled into the large master bedroom—Jareth and Dosira Reynolds’ room.

  A breeze wafted into Steve’s face. The room was chilly—the window was open on the other end.

  Steve saw the Parallel Reflector leaning against the wall below the open window.

  Jareth and Dosira Reynolds stood at the edge of their bed, between the mirror and Steve. They were standing in mute shock, baffled at Steve’s explosive entrance.

  Jareth’s orange eyes flared in rage.

  “You!” Steve screamed, thrusting a finger toward the Ifrit. “You orchestrated this hell!”

  It seemed Jareth was on the verge of transforming into his fiery, demonic form. Then Steve’s finger drifted over to his undine wife.

  Steve shouted at Dosira. “You killed my father! Prepare to die!”

  “Okay, Inigo Montoya . . .” Dale muttered from behind.

  Jareth broke into a maniacal fit of laughter. “Your father was weak, Steve Remington. And what makes you think you’re any stronger?”

  The Ifrit’s hands burned like the sun. Smoke billowed from his body.

  “Husband, wait . . .” Dosira said calmly, but her voice fell on deaf ears.

  It was Aiden who stepped forward. He pushed through his group with Emilene in tow, pushing the girl in front of him with a firm grip on h
er shoulders. In one hand, he held a small knife.

  Dosira’s eyes bulged at seeing her captive daughter.

  “You’ll want to listen to your wife, Overseer!” Aiden shouted.

  Steve was alarmed at what he saw: Aiden threatening the Reynolds’ kidnapped daughter. But Steve had known all along what he was forcing her into. He had acted out of spite and anger, convincing her to come along with them.

  It was all for show—all for a moment such as this. To use against the Reynoldses.

  “You’ve kept Annabel here against her will for too long, Jareth,” Steve shouted. “Now you can see how it feels to have a loved one dangled in front of you . . .”

  Have I become the very thing I’m fighting against? The thought flashed through Steve’s mind, and just as quickly, it was gone.

  “Father!” Emilene cried. “Mother!”

  “Don’t harm my daughter, you wretched fiend!” Dosira shrieked. Her eyes flashed icy blue.

  “Tell your husband to stand down,” Steve said.

  “Jareth!” Dosira cried. “Listen to him!”

  Jareth struggled to come to grips with his powerlessness in the situation.

  At the same time, Steve furrowed his brow and glanced past both of them. A cat crept in through the window, crawling and perching on the windowsill above the Parallel Reflector.

  Before he could give away his surprise, Steve turned back to the situation at hand.

  Jareth burned like a smoldering ember. His clothes melted on his body, falling away to reveal a molten form underneath. He still hadn’t grown to his usual gigantic size, so Steve felt he had one last move to make before all was lost.

  There was no doubt Jareth Reynolds would kill everyone in that room. He was simply too powerful.

  Fear struck Steve’s heart like a spear thrust. He said, “Calm yourself, Jareth. Think of what you’re doing! Think of your daughter!”

  The Overseer’s skin sizzled. Then he bellowed and surprised everyone. “Her sacrifice will drive my righteous mission and fuel me with the rage needed to complete my conquest! You are an utter fool, Steve Remington!”

  Then the smoldering ember sparked to life. Flames leaped from his body, catching the edge of the bedsheets on fire.

  Steve’s heart sank. This is it, he thought, seeing his future flash before him. The flames burned his face, even from ten feet away. Sweat poured down his forehead.

  I thought Emilene was the perfect scapegoat. I mistook the severity of Jareth’s self-righteous conviction . . .

  Resigned to his fate and afraid for his life, Steve simply closed his eyes.

  He opened them, and only he and Dosira stood in the room. Everyone else had faded away, including the flames, including the cat in the window, including the Parallel Reflector.

  Dosira stared at him strangely. There was pity in her eyes. And sadness.

  “Look what your husband threatens to do,” Steve said to her. “He would sacrifice his own daughter for his cause. I challenge you to tell me he’s not a monster, Dosira Reynolds. You stole my father’s soul. Show me there is humanity in that spirit of his!”

  Steve was whisked back to the present, out of Dosira’s Ethereus plane.

  Dosira had a new look on her face. It was one of spite. She seemed to steel herself.

  Behind her, the cat had its front paws on the edges of the mirror. Somehow, it was sliding the mirror up the wall, toward the window.

  Jareth took a step forward and the entire building shook.

  Steve stood his ground. He put himself in front of his group, shielding them from the leaping flames.

  Jareth opened his wide, demonic maw. Fire spit from his tongue, dropping on the ground like burning marbles.

  The cat had lifted the mirror to the windowsill. It sat precariously on the ledge, teetering into the room and out into the wild night.

  Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting his doom.

  You’re right, a voice echoed in his mind.

  Jareth swept his fiery hand across the room, toward Steve.

  Rather than watch his demise, Steve closed his eyes again.

  A violent sizzle showered the room.

  Steve didn’t feel intense heat like he expected. He felt . . . wetness. Was it spittle? Water? Rain? Was he burning alive?

  He opened his eyes.

  Jareth’s flame had gone out. He was truly smoldering now, turning into a blackened husk of himself. His crazed, orange eyes were confused and listless.

  The inferno lessened, until it became nothing. Even the blazing bedsheets were put out by the heavy condensation that filled the room. In an instant the room became a tropical rainforest, replacing the volcanic torrent.

  Dosira had one hand on her husband’s wide back and another in the air, her palm outstretched. Her face was a mask of concentration and consternation.

  Steve’s mouth fell open. Dosira had saved them.

  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 a
sked.

  “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