by Cory Barclay
Steve dove sideways as a searing pain shot through his leg.
He looked up from the ground and was facing a shining, glittering reflection of himself.
The Parallel Reflector stood in front of him, the mythical artifact leaning against the back wall of the coach.
Annabel and Aiden helped him to his feet as Richard came leaping up the stairs and into the carriage.
“You’re cornered!” Richard cried out, holding his gun on his son, his hand shaking.
Steve limped backward, toward the mirror, blood dribbling down his leg. He shook off the pain. Annabel held his hand and gulped, backing up with him. Aiden had Steve’s arm gripped tightly, shaking his head.
Steve’s eyes went wide as Richard cocked the hammer back on the gun.
Then Steve did the only thing he could think of.
He blindly dove backwards, pushing himself toward the mirror. He pulled Annabel and Aiden with him as he jumped.
He closed his eyes and prepared for the glass to shatter.
Instead of crashing and breaking the artifact, a strange sensation engulfed his body.
He was floating and spinning, trying to make his mind work.
Everything was black around him. He couldn’t see if he held onto anyone any longer. Where is Annabel? Where is Aiden?
A moment later, still trapped in oblivion, a strange thought came to him.
Where is Dale?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Steve seemed to be swimming in blackness, or in time itself. He lost track of his location and the moment and what it meant to embody a physical form. He was moving away from his own existence—from his own body.
Then he thought of Dale and his mind whirled and turned a page, plummeting back into his skull.
He could see a light and he reached toward it—despite being told all his life not to do that.
He was careening out of the non-existence, shooting out of a black hole and falling . . .
Falling out of a mirror.
He landed with a crunch on a laminated, limestone bathroom counter. The handle on the sink jutted into his side. Blood from his leg smeared the countertop. He somersaulted off the counter and crumpled to the ground in a heap, rolling on a bathroom rug. His arms flopped behind him and hit a wall with a thud.
His eyes widened as he noticed something coming from the mirror above him.
He tried to roll to his side to avoid the orange and green ball that crowded his vision.
Aiden cried out and landed weirdly, grunting as he fell directly on Steve. Their arms and legs tangled and mixed together. His freckled head crashed against the wall. They were both entwined in an awkward, immovable position.
They were in a small bathroom.
“W-Where are we?” Aiden asked, looking around at the sink and counter that had been the bane of them both. The nearby shower curtains had little Batman symbols embedded on the side.
“I have no idea,” Steve muttered, struggling to push himself free of Aiden’s wiry, short body. He looked back up to the mirror expectantly.
He waited for Annabel.
And waited.
Then the bathroom door burst open.
A huge form flew into the room, holding a baseball bat over its head.
Steve and Aiden and the newcomer all screamed in unison, everyone frightened and terrified and confused.
Recognition came to Steve’s face.
Dale was completely naked, his round, flabby body jiggling as he moved, his dick flopping around at eye level.
Steve and the leprechaun both cried out in dismay at the awful sight.
“Jesus fuck!” Steve yelled, shielding his face from Dale’s loose genitalia.
Dale prepared to bring his bat down on Steve’s skull, his voice still rumbling in horror.
“Dale!” Steve said.
Mid-swing, the big man brought the bat to a stop, just inches from Steve’s head.
Dale squinted strangely.
“S-Steve-o?” he said, completely baffled.
A huge smile spread on Steve’s face as he tried to stand. He was shaking from the near-death experience and almost toppled over. “Fats, you remember me!”
Dale stood up straight and scratched his face and his hairy chest. “Of course I do, man. I still have your business card on my dresser!”
Tears came to Steve’s face as he lunged at his friend and embraced him.
Dale saw over Steve’s shoulder for the first time. He looked upon the face of Aiden O’Shaunessy—a nightmare incarnate.
Dale shoved Steve aside, into a wall, raising his bat again. “Hold on, Steve, a shitty little leprechaun followed you in here like a bloodsucking gnat!”
Steve reached out and grabbed the head of the bat before Dale could swing and either a) burst Aiden’s skull like a watermelon, or b) destroy his own bathroom.
“Wait!” Steve cried.
Another baffled expression overcame Dale.
“He’s a friend this time.” Steve patted Dale’s shoulders.
“This guy? You mean the guy that buried me alive?”
“Trust me, Fats . . . It’s a long story.”
“Dale, what the fuck is going on in there!” a voice called from the nearby bedroom.
“Hold on, Shan, it’s my friends!” Dale yelled cheerily.
“What the fuck are they doing in my bathroom?!”
Dale frowned. “That’s a good question, Steve-o. What the eff are you doing in Shannon’s bathroom?”
Before Steve answered, he faced Aiden. “What happened?”
Aiden shrugged. “Parallel Reflector sent us through a wormhole, I suppose. We’re back on Terrus?”
“Where’s Annabel? Why isn’t she here?”
“No idea, mate,” Aiden said. “I’d heard that the magic mirror didn’t even work anymore. I have no idea how you got it to work.” The leprechaun ran a hand through his curly red hair, then looked down. Unfortunately, his gaze met directly with Dale’s dong and he glanced away. “Could we get this guy some clothes, please?”
Steve was too distracted wondering about Annabel.
Dammit, he thought. It almost worked. Somehow we managed to go through the mirror, but Annabel didn’t make it. Or if she did, she landed somewhere else. She’s probably lost and afraid and alone. I just hope to God she isn’t near my father . . .
I have to find her again.
Steve faced Dale with a smile and put his arm around his big friend’s shoulder.
But at least I have Dale this time.
Dale opened the bathroom door. “Come on, boys, let’s say hello to Shannon. She’s kind of in a tizzy right now . . .” Dale shook his head. “But what’s going on, man? Where’d you come from and what’d I miss? I heard something about a magic mirror and a Flux Capacitor or something?”
Steve chuckled. “Dude, man, have I got a fucking story for you . . .”
THE
SPIRIT
WATCHER
Cory Barclay
MYTHBOUND
BOOK III
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2018 by Cory Barclay
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
www.CoryBarclay.com
First edition: December 2018
Cover Art by MiblArt
PLEASE CONSIDER SIGNING up to my newsletter for new release information and specials at www.CoryBarclay.com
This book is dedicated to all my friends,
who keep me on the right path—
Individual names to follow!
CHAPTER ONE
ON MYTHICUS
The dead body wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It was missing.
Lig, the Lee�
��s house brownie, stared in disbelief into the Reynolds’ basement freezer. He glanced up at Constantin and Mariana Lee. Their mouths were thin lines, their eyebrows bunched together.
“I-Impossible,” Lig said, his voice cracking. Beside him also stood Jareth and Dosira Reynolds, and Overseer Malachite.
Jareth Reynolds wore a look of triumph on his face. He was too giddy—too enthusiastic. He didn’t seem surprised that Charles Lee’s body was missing from the freezer.
It had been Jareth Reynolds’ order to put the dead body of Charles Lee, the werewolf, in the freezer.
Lig knew something funny was afoot. There was an air of treachery hovering around the basement kitchen.
He turned from the crowded freezer doorway and that’s when he saw it . . . Fueda, the Reynolds’ brownie and Lig’s lover. Her head was bowed. She refused to meet his eye. He’d seen similar expressions on her face before. She was ashamed of something.
Lig’s mouth fell open.
Fueda had moved the body.
“But why?” Lig said under his breath, to no one. He was short enough so no one nearby heard him.
Other than serving the Reynoldses, Fueda had no allegiance to them. In fact, she disliked them. Why would she help them by moving the body? What could she have gained from it? Or, had she been threatened?
Lig’s little wrinkled face tightened. He clenched his fists and turned back to the freezer, opening his mouth to evoke his rage.
Before any words came out, Jareth Reynolds said, “You see, Overseer? I told you your son can’t be trusted. He’s part of those vagabonds . . . those Vagrants. He only wished to fracture our alliance—to turn us against each other.”
“And it nearly worked,” Dosira Reynolds added, frowning and shaking her head.
Lig scoffed. He’d seen the damn body here! He watched the faces of the Reynoldses—how they glanced at each other, not sure how far they should play their hand. My, what good actors they were. Two deceitful peas in a duplicitous pod.
Overseer Malachite scratched his scalp, tousling his dark hair. He sighed. It was clear he didn’t want to admit defeat. He didn’t want to admit his own son, Steve, had duped him.
“I suppose you’re right,” the Overseer said at last. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then closed his mouth.
Lig watched this with abhorrent fascination. What would happen now that Malachite believed Annabel Lee and Tiberius Reynolds’ wedding had been severed over a lie?
People had died after Steve’s words were spoken. Steve had told the congregation Jareth and Tiberius Reynolds were responsible for Charles Lee’s death. Barns, a warrior of the Vagrant Kinship, was dead. Tetsuo, the leader of the Vagrants, was dead. Countless blackguards and Nawao warriors had perished.
The scene had been absolute chaos. Geddon had given Steve to Malachite, in exchange for the leader of the Vagrant Kinship, Tetsuo. In a maddening twist, Geddon had murdered Tetsuo. Geddon had wanted control of the Kinship and to profess his love for Selestria, Tetsuo’s wife. All hell had broken loose. Nawao warriors fired arrows from the trees. Brethren blackguards tried to defend the nobles and wedding-goers. Constantin Lee had been ready to attack Jareth Reynolds in a fit of rage, for killing his son.
Needless to say, the wedding had been ruined.
But then Overseer Malachite had appeared from his carriage. He’d chased Steve, Aiden, and Annabel inside the coach. He’d come out dragging Annabel Lee behind him, but Steve and Aiden had vanished. Somehow, the leprechaun and human had walked through the Parallel Reflector. They had disappeared from Mythicus. After centuries of disuse, they had managed to make the mirror work. The Reflector had been Overseer Malachite’s biggest frustration and biggest hope.
But how had they managed it?
The jury was still out.
The fighting stopped once everyone realized Overseer Malachite held Annabel hostage. Constantin and Mariana Lee gritted their sharp, vampiric teeth, but stood down.
By the time Malachite had emerged from the carriage, the battlefield had changed. A few of the Brethren nobles had fled into the woods. The Nawao warriors had fled, too, noticing their cause was lost. They wouldn’t see vengeance that day for the death of their kinsman, Kaiko. Geddon and Selestria had escaped, with Geddon leading Selestria away. He’d practically taken her by force from her fallen husband.
Malachite had sent blackguard scouts into the woods to find Geddon and Selestria.
And, somewhere along the way, in the hour it took to establish order once more, Charles Lee’s body had disappeared from the Reynolds’ freezer. Steve had said it would be there.
Lig didn’t know what to believe anymore, or who to trust.
“Now that you see through your son’s treachery, Overseer, may the wedding continue undisturbed?” Jareth Reynolds asked.
Constantin let out an angry noise. “Nonsense! I still must know what happened to my son. If these two demons are responsible for him missing . . . it will mean their heads.”
Jareth snarled and stepped closer to Constantin. Their faces almost touched. In his human form, the fiery Ifrit was not quite as tall as the lanky vampire, but he was stocky and imposing. “Threaten me again, vampire, and I’ll make sure you’re fed garlic every meal—”
Dosira put a hand on Jareth’s shoulder, instantly calming his temper. “What my husband means to say, my lords, is that the proof is in the freezer.” She opened her palms and gestured to the empty floor. It almost seemed like the dusty outline of a burlap bag could still be seen . . .
“There is no proof of any wrongdoing from my family, Overseer,” Dosira finished.
Malachite crossed his arms over his chest.
“And you’re letting all the cold air out,” Jareth added. Spinning back to Constantin for one more barb, he said, “Unless you’d like to sleep there tonight and wait for your son to magically appear? I understand you undead folk enjoy the frigid cold—”
“That’s enough, Lord Onyx,” Malachite said. “You’ve made your point. I understand your disappointment, that such a beautiful wedding was marred by regrettable events.”
“My son is crestfallen,” Dosira said.
Lig rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe the amount of bullshit everyone was piling on—the façade the Reynolds family weaved around Overseer Malachite’s eyes. Lig had been one of the few who had physically seen Charles’ dead body. He’d gone to confirm the identity with Steve Remington. He decided he would save that tidbit for later, to discuss with the Lees in private.
“You must understand that I, too, am disappointed with the results thus far today,” Malachite said. “I lost my hostage, the powerful leader of the Kinship rebellion. Then I lost my son. And to top it off, I lost Geddon, who murdered my captive!” Malachite growled and turned away from the freezer door. Months of planning, ruined.
He turned, facing the two enraged families. “I want to appease everyone, if I can. But I understand it isn’t possible. My word is law, though, and it will be recognized. Is that understood?”
Jareth and Dosira shared a quick look, then nodded. Constantin and Mariana also nodded.
“I decree, in light of the new evidence presented—or lack thereof—that the wedding will continue as planned. Tiberius Reynolds and Annabel Lee will be united.”
Constantin stiffened and took a step forward. “My lord, you can’t! My daughter can’t be married if there’s any chance the family she’s marrying into had something to do with the disappearance of my son! Surely you understand—”
Overseer Malachite raised his palm, silencing the vampire. “You entered into a solemn oath with this family, Constantin. It must be upheld. There’s no proof of any wrongdoing on their part.”
“Exactly,” Jareth said, clearly ecstatic.
Lig still didn’t understand why this marriage was so important to the Reynoldses. Judging by the dialogue and the top-tier acting, he had no doubt the Reynoldses were planning some sort of diabolical mischief. Lig knew this wasn’t the last he�
��d be hearing of Jareth and Dosira Reynolds.
For now, he wanted to get the hell away from this cold basement.
He walked away from the arguing tall people, toward Fueda. She had been ignored by everyone, standing in the corner, guilt-ridden. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She buried her head against his shoulder and sobbed quietly into his chest.
“I-I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What could you possibly be sorry for?” Lig asked gently. He steered Fueda toward the stairs that would lead them away from this mess.
Fueda sniffled. “S-She said she would hurt you if I didn’t do as she said.”
Lig’s eyes widened. “Who?” he asked, a little too loudly. He looked over his shoulder. The lords and ladies were still arguing and not paying the little folk any attention. He leaned close to her ear. “Who said such a thing, my love?”
Before she could answer, footsteps stomped down the stairs in front of them.
A man dressed in all black almost bowled over the two brownies as he bounded down the steps. The blackguard’s cloak flapped behind him, gently fluttering over Lig and Fueda’s heads as it passed.
All eyes turned to the messenger.
Overseer Malachite snarled. “I said I was not to be disturbed.”
The blackguard’s knees slightly trembled. “My apologies, my lord, but I believe you’ll want to hear the news.”
“What news?”
The blackguard grinned.
That seemed to piss off Malachite even more. “Out with it, boy!”
The blackguard said, “Y-Yes, right, my lord. We’ve captured the two you sent us to find.”
“Annabel?” Mariana Lee shouted hopefully, her hands bunched in front of her cold, dead heart.
“Steven?” Malachite asked, almost in unison.
The blackguard frowned, realizing he’d blundered. “Er, no,” he murmured, bowing his head.
With a long step forward, Malachite slapped the man hard across the face, knocking his head to the side. “Then who, you fucking fool?”
