by Cory Barclay
It reminded Steve of Annabel, when she’d summoned the dead from their graves at the cemetery, to save him from Aiden the leprechaun. There had been a grave there with Steve’s father’s name across it—Steve had been to the damn funeral, for Christ’s sake.
Steve’s father did not rise from the dead, though, with the other skeletons. Which meant Steve’s father’s carcass had not been in that grave.
Now, Steve wondered if Kaiko’s body was underneath that mound of dirt.
Or if Barns had played them all for fools there, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Steve was dumbstruck about Barns’ betrayal. The big man had seemed like the most resolute member of their group—a guardsman, a warrior . . . placing blame at Steve’s feet for Kaiko’s death.
Steve suddenly didn’t feel so guilty about what transpired on the Bayfog summit. With Barns’ betrayal came a feeling of rage for what he’d done, and of pity for Geddon and Selestria. Steve had hardly known the man. Those two had trusted him completely, though.
Geddon was deep in contemplation after their terrible discovery. He retreated back to the main room of the mission and wrapped the Portrait of a Lady forgery in her tablecloth.
“I can’t believe it,” Selestria murmured, sitting on a chair, petting Misty for comfort. “Why would he do this to us? How could he?” She looked to Geddon for an answer.
“I don’t know the ‘why’ and ‘how’,” Geddon said, “but anyone can be bought for a high enough price.”
“Apparently,” Steve muttered.
“But Barns? He was a stalwart Kinsman,” Selestria said.
As Steve had thought.
“What’s done is done,” Geddon replied, a brooding fury in his voice. “We’ll have plenty of time to reminisce on what happened. For now, we must be away from this place. We are not safe here.”
“Where will we go?” Steve asked.
Geddon turned to him. “We?”
Steve frowned. Not this again.
But Geddon went a different direction with his comment. “We must scatter. If we’re all caught, the resistance is finished. If we separate, there is better hope we’ll find Tetsuo.”
“Tetsuo?” Steve asked.
“Our leader.”
“Right.” Sounded like a samurai name, in Steve’s mind, which he hoped for the Kinship’s sake was exactly what Tetsuo was.
Placing his arms over his chest, as he often did when he was thinking, Geddon faced Selestria. “Sela, where will you go?”
“I will take the painted woman and try to find the real thing,” she said, still absentmindedly petting Misty. “I must continue my search for my husband, for all our sakes.”
A muffled cry beneath the tablecloth yelled, “I am real!”
“I agree,” Geddon said. “Take Misty with you—she can be our means of communication.”
Steve wondered how in God’s name a cat could be a liaison, but he said nothing. He’d heard of stranger things happening on Mythicus.
“And you?” Selestria asked Geddon.
“I will contact the Nawao and tell them of Kaiko’s death. They will aid us, I believe.”
“Who are the Nawao?” Steve asked.
“Forest dwellers and hunters. Kaiko’s fellowship.” Geddon turned back to Selestria. “Then I will track down Barns. See if I can find out why he did what he did.”
“You play a dangerous game, Geddon,” Selestria said. “He may kill you.”
Geddon gave her a wry smile. “You must forget, my lady, what I can do. I am not defenseless—”
“I know that, I’m just saying—”
“Never mind that,” Geddon snapped. “There’s no time to argue.” He clearly didn’t want to hear how Barns might slay him. It must have hurt his pride too much, hearing it from Selestria. Steve saw a certain connection between the two of them . . . an energy that was also dangerous, if this woman was married to the leader of their resistance.
He kept his mouth shut.
Until Geddon forced his hand. “Where will you go, Steve?”
“I have an idea,” he said, scratching his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. But if you are using Misty to communicate between you two . . .” he trailed off.
Geddon nodded. “We will do the same with you.”
“Good.”
With that, the three Kinsmen—and their cat—took their respective horses and left the mission. Once they were outside in the cool night air, Steve stared up at the night sky.
The sky was beginning to turn purple and pink—the sign of dawn fast approaching. The moon was waning.
“Until we meet again,” Geddon said. He jumped on his horse and together they trotted away.
Selestria looked one more time at Steve and said, “Good luck, Steven Remington.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Steve said, not sure if the title was appropriate. Since Geddon had agreed to offer him the same benefit of using Misty as a liaison, he hoped it meant he was part of the team. Part of the Vagrant Kinship.
Now that he had allies in this crazy place, he had enemies, too. He had to watch his every move.
But he was dead tired. He wouldn’t be able to watch a damn thing until he got some shuteye.
Selestria and Steve parted: Selestria heading west, Steve heading south.
He was alone again, with only Francesca the Third to keep him company. He took the freeway out of Old Town and headed back the way he’d come.
I suppose I should go to the stableman and pay for the damned horse, he thought. He felt his eyelids grow heavy. That can wait until morning. He hadn’t been lying when he said he had an idea where he would go.
Steve remembered what Lig had whispered in his ear—after he’d saved the brownie and his girlfriend.
It was a destination.
He took Francesca the Third south, back on the ghostly highway, toward Annabel’s house.
It took an hour to get there. The moon was ready to disappear over the horizon. Birds chirped and owls hooted. The sound of new life broke the eerie, nighttime silence.
That’s exactly what Steve needed: new life.
He dismounted when he reached the end of the driveway leading to the Lees’ manor. He didn’t walk down the driveway, but disappeared into the bushes and traveled incognito, through the flora. Francesca the Third snorted, struggling to follow Steve through the tight quarters. They eventually made it to the end of the driveway. Through the trees, he could see the mansion.
He longed to barge in there and rescue Annabel from her captivity.
But he couldn’t. Not now.
Instead, he trudged through the foliage to the side of the mansion.
When he passed under a window, he heard humming.
His heart leaped.
He stopped for a moment under the window—still hidden in the trees—listening as Annabel hummed to herself.
She was humming the melody of “Drift Away,” by Dobie Gray. The same song had been playing in Steve’s car after they’d first kissed on the boardwalk, while watching the sun set.
That fateful day seemed like years ago, even though it was only a couple months past.
He stared up at the window and saw, even through the dark curtains, a flickering candle kept the room alight.
He felt like he was in the middle of a scene from Romeo and Juliet. His Juliet was so close, yet so far. He wanted to do something romantic—to let her know he hadn’t forgotten about her, or given up. He knew it was folly.
Nothing good could come from trying to get her attention right now.
He left his position under the window and kept walking around the side of the house. He found a small, wood-framed barn set up behind it. This was where he’d first gone to tether Francesca the Third.
His eyes drooped as he hid in one of the barn’s stalls, Francesca beside him. He fell on his ass and stretched out across an inviting patch of hay, trying to stay hidden, but also comfortable.
Before long, his droopy eyes closed completely .
. .
Dale waited for him.
Steve was in the same room as before, when he’d seen Dale and the mystery woman kissing against the wall, next to the bed.
The room, Steve realized, was much too big to belong to Dale. Any room was much too big to be Dale’s, because Steve had basically left him homeless after he left Terrus. He felt guilty about that.
Steve wondered how Dale had managed to weasel his way into couch surfing such a nice place. He’d always been kind and affable, but he wasn’t known for charming women left and right.
He didn’t have time to think on the subject.
Dale was fully clothed this time—Thank God—and he was not alone, again.
It wasn’t a woman he stood next to, though.
Steve took a step forward, watching the two people on the other side of the room. The man next to Dale was a tall, handsome fellow with a square jaw and a tight-fitting tuxedo.
Steve knew the guy.
It was Michelangelo the cherub.
Steve’s mouth fell open as the puzzle pieces started to fall into place. Aiden the leprechaun had called Michelangelo the “best wingman in town” when they’d first met him at the bar in La Jolla. He had the power to make a person fall hopelessly in love with someone else. He’d demonstrated that ability when he’d sent a beautiful woman into Dale’s arms.
Unfortunately, that woman had been with another man. A fight broke out in the bar, one that got Aiden kicked out.
Later, Steve and Dale had raided Michelangelo’s art show. The cherub and Dale had exchanged some heated words.
There was no love lost between the two, Steve knew.
So, what the hell are they doing conversing so casually, now, in this mystery room?
When Steve approached, he realized the two couldn’t see him. He still wasn’t able to dream-leap into Dale’s mind completely—not physically.
“How is the woman?” Michelangelo asked.
Dale said, “Shannon? Wonderful! We’re very happy.”
The hair on Steve’s neck stood on end. Shannon! he exclaimed to himself. Shannon Barton?!
That woman had nearly killed him—and had killed Tumbleweed—when she’d crashed her car next to Steve’s music studio.
Michelangelo said, “And you have what I’ve—” then cut himself short. He faced Steve, his bright eyes fixing him with a menacing stare.
At that moment, Steve knew he’d fucked up.
Michelangelo could see him, even if Dale couldn’t.
“We’re not alone,” the cherub said.
Dale looked over his shoulder at Steve, but had only a look of confusion on his face. “What do you mean, man?”
Michelangelo pointed.
How the hell can the angel see me, when I’m in Dale’s dream? Steve wondered, panicking.
Because I am a Mythic, and he is not, Michelangelo responded in Steve’s mind. Steve took a frightened step back. The angel had talked to him, telepathically. Holy shit, Steve thought.
“Who is it?” Dale asked.
“Your old friend, Steve.”
Dale tilted his head, another confused look overtaking his flabby face. His next words made Steve’s heart sink.
“S-Steve . . . who?”
Steve’s face burned with a sudden sensation—a painful sensation.
His eyes shot open.
He was still lying on the pile of hay, the prickly, yellow things sticking to his body.
Lig the brownie stood over him, his open palm extended in the air, ready to slap Steve again.
“Finally, wafer-man, you awake from your sweaty slumber.”
“Sweaty?” Steve asked.
“Yes, you were covered in sweat like a pig covers itself in shit.” Lig turned to the shadows and said softly, “Fueda, come here.”
Lig’s small girlfriend appeared from the next stall over.
“This is Fueda,” Lig said.
“Hello, madam,” Steve said.
The little elderly woman chuckled in a high-pitched tone. “He is respectful. I like that.” Her voice was little more than a child’s whisper, but she had the leathery face of an 80-year-old woman.
“What is this all about?” Steve asked, glancing from Lig to Fueda.
“You saved our lives, wafer-man,” Lig said. He opened one eye wide. “Do you have any more wafers?”
Steve frowned and shook his head.
“A shame. But it’s no matter. What was I saying?”
“He saved our lives,” Fueda said.
“Ah, yes. You saved our lives. For that, we will help you.”
“Help me with . . . what?”
Lig’s wrinkled face contorted. “Don’t play stupid, wafer-man. I know your kind are in peril here.”
“My kind?”
“Humans.”
“Ah, yes . . . I thought you meant Kinsmen.”
“Them too.”
“And you can help me escape the danger?” Steve asked, hopefulness in his voice.
“No,” Lig said. “In that regard, you’re . . .” he turned to Fueda. “What’s the word, my dear?”
“Fucked,” the little woman said. Steve flinched, not expecting to hear such vulgarity coming from such a nice, tiny woman.
“Great,” Steve murmured. “Then what can you help me with?”
“Something more important,” Lig said.
Steve glanced at the two small faces. “More important than staying alive? What could be more important than that?”
Lig took Fueda’s tiny hand within his own tiny hand and smiled. “Love.”
“Ah.”
“We will try to help you recover Lady Annabel. I do not like seeing that poor girl so sad.”
Steve’s heart raced. “Can’t you get in trouble for that?”
Lig shrugged. “If we’re found out. We won’t be found out, though. Do not worry about us, wafer-man.”
Steve tried to hide his elation. “T-Thank you,” he said. “How do we begin?”
“It starts by putting you in a home close to Annabel’s. You must not be recognized, but it must be easy to communicate with you.”
Steve nodded. It made sense.
Lig turned to Fueda, who took over. “That is my duty. You will stay at my household, as a servant.”
“A servant? But I know nothing of serving—”
“It is a ploy, wafer-man,” Lig interjected. “It is only for the time being. Since you are in hiding, anyway, it should serve two good purposes: One, you’ll be close to me, so we can communicate. Two, you can hide from whoever is trying to kill you.”
Steve was about to ask how they were going to achieve this. Wouldn’t the master of a house realize when a brand new, non-tiny person had arrived in the household?
Fueda disrupted his thoughts. “Plus, my masters enjoy humans. You should fit right in.”
Steve was skeptical. “When you say ‘enjoy humans’ . . .”
Fueda rolled her eyes. “They aren’t going to eat you, wafer-man.”
“This isn’t a Hansel and Gretel situation?” Steve asked.
Fueda narrowed her eyes. She clearly didn’t like Steve as much as she originally did. She said, “This isn’t a fairy tale, boy.”
“Could have fooled me,” Steve quipped, but then immediately added, “sorry, my sarcasm is automatic. It’s a fault of mine.”
“Sarcasm is fine,” Fueda said, “as long as you obey my orders and obey the masters. Don’t use your sharp tongue on them.”
“Deal,” Steve said.
Lig looked over his shoulder. “I’d best be going,” he said. He gave Steve a nod, then hugged Fueda and kissed her on the lips. A moment later, he disappeared behind the stall wall.
It was heartwarming, in Steve’s opinion, to see two elderly people so infatuated with each other.
A moment later, Fueda shattered the charming scene. “Off your ass, wafer-man. We must quit this place, too.”
Steve nodded and grabbed Francesca the Third’s reins.
Fueda
put a tiny hand on his kneecap. “No, leave the horse here. It will raise suspicions with my masters to see a servant with a horse. You must not look above your means.”
Steve’s shoulders sagged. “B-But . . . what do I do with Francesca? When the Lees awake, they’ll know I’ve been here.”
“Let my husband deal with that, boy.”
Steve frowned.
Fueda wasn’t having any of it.
“Quit sulking and come on, wafer-man!”
CHAPTER NINE
Steve was still dead tired as he followed Fueda to her master’s house. While they crept away from the barn, the sun peeked over the horizon, showing a glimpse of a beautiful morning. Steve was skeptical about Fueda, but he didn’t want Annabel’s parents to catch him sleeping in their barn.
Then he remembered Constantin and Mariana were vampires. Wouldn’t I have been more likely to get caught while dozing at night? Isn’t that normal vampire business hours?
He followed the little brownie through a thicket of bushes, maneuvering much slower and clumsier than her little body. Some thorny branches stabbed him a couple times, causing him to groan.
They finally emerged from the undergrowth and came to a road. He looked back and realized they must have been almost a mile down the road from Annabel’s house. They’d made a shortcut through the trees, because Fueda was in a rush to get home before her masters awoke.
The building ahead was a large, white, Victorian mansion, with an open courtyard full of elegant statues and a pond with koi fish. Tall trees surrounded the entire property, hiding the main building from the road. One minute they were traveling through rough woods, then it opened into the secret lair of a Bond villain.
Steve was nervous as he followed Fueda around the side of the building. They went in through a secret door that opened to a spiral staircase. The staircase led down and put them in a grand basement, clearly below ground, but it still looked upscale.
They went through another door and came to a mid-sized kitchen with a low ceiling. Steve almost had to bend his knees to stand straight in the room, though Fueda had no problem. She rummaged around a refrigerator and came out with a carton of eggs, a slab of pork, and some fresh fruit. She found some pots and pans and placed them out on a four-eyed stovetop.
