Mythbound Trilogy Boxed Set

by Cory Barclay

  “Just tell us what you’re thinking, please,” Steve said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

  Shepherd nodded and cleared his throat. “If undines mate with a human, they can steal that human’s soul. That is the legend, anyway. People speculate it’s why Jareth Reynolds has brought so many humans to Mythicus—to force that . . . issue. But it’s never been achieved.”

  A tense quietness fell over the group. They all shared looks with one another. Finally, Steve said, “That’s a disturbing accusation, Shepherd.”

  Shepherd raised his hands, palms forward. “Like I said, I don’t know if it’s relevant to Jareth overthrowing Malachite. I simply thought it was worth mentioning.”

  “It’s definitely that, mate,” Aiden said. “Is that something Jareth’s wife . . . wants?”

  Shepherd shrugged.

  Steve had heard enough. If Tiberius and Jareth are the savages that Shepherd makes them out to be, then Annabel is in more danger than I ever imagined . . .

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Shepherd, will you help us? You’ve already proved your worth.”

  “Who is ‘us’?”

  Steve smirked and shrugged. “The Vagrant Kinship two-point-oh, I guess.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It took a while for Scarlet to recuperate and stop crying. By the time she’d gathered herself and her tears had dried, she’d gone from unimaginable grief to being absolutely livid. Learning who killed her mother, finally, after so many false flags, devastated her. In a sense, it was also a relief. Now she had an idea of where to aim her vengeance.

  Dale passed out on his loveseat after his second beer. He’d been drinking all day. An empty beer can rested on his prominent belly. Shepherd quickly followed suit and slept horizontally on the couch.

  It was quiet in Shannon’s house. The sun was beginning to set. It was a somber moment, as Aiden and Steve wanted to give Scarlet her space so she could grieve. But time was of the essence.

  Scarlet stood from the couch where she’d been crying and started pacing again. Fury replaced her grief.

  “Tell me of this Tiberius Reynolds, Steve,” she said, staring at the ground as she walked in circles and bit her lip. “I’ve heard the name, but he must have been a boy when I was last in Mythicus.”

  “He still is,” Steve said, “so to speak. He’s a spoiled child. Okay, he’s not really a child, he might be in his mid-twenties. He’s an arrogant, entitled man-baby who thinks the world revolves around him. I never liked the guy, but I didn’t know the extent of his evilness until Shepherd told us about your mo—about January.”

  “Then you have no qualms seeing him dead?” Scarlet asked matter-of-factly. She stopped pacing and stared at Steve to gauge his reaction.

  Steve winced. Dead bodies were not really his thing. He was squeamish of blood, even though he’d stabbed a blackguard with a spear in the past. That was during a free-for-all brawl in the middle of the night where he couldn’t see any face clearly. He had simply stabbed into a mass and his spear had come away bloody.

  This was something entirely different. This was someone he’d met, had conversations with, and had “served.” How would Fueda feel if Steve returned to her household only to kill her masters? He was already on a shaky relationship with the brownie.

  “Steve,” Scarlet repeated. “Where are you?”

  “Sorry,” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “If it’s possible, I’d rather not.”

  “Steve is opposed to killing, dear,” Aiden said, clarifying for his blubbering friend. “That’s what I’m gathering from his waxy pale skin and standoffish demeanor.”

  With a nod, Steve said, “If there’s any way to avoid killing him, I mean, that would be ideal.”

  “There isn’t,” Scarlet assured him. “But you won’t have to be there. You just have to help me find him.”

  Steve pointed at the sleeping body of Shepherd. “You heard the defector, Scarlet, he was one of five bodyguards for Tiberius.”

  That didn’t phase the succubus. “Did he have bodyguards when you lived at his house?”

  “Well, no . . .”

  Scarlet threw her hands in the air. “Well then. They’ve gotten complacent. They think they’re safe in their little manor. I will fucking show them the error of their ways.”

  Steve sighed. There was no dissuading her, of course. And he couldn’t blame her—if Tiberius had killed one of his parents, he’d be thinking the same way. He said, “The two people who care about Tiberius the most, his parents, are powerful Mythics. I watched Jareth Reynolds turn into a fire giant and burn the face off one of the strongest Vagrants around.”

  “Jareth Reynolds is an Ifrit,” Aiden interjected. “His wife is an undine, a water elemental. They’re yin and yang. Together, Steve is right, they’re very powerful.”

  Waving her hand at the two naysayers, Scarlet said, “I’m powerful too, boys. You know that. You know the power I have over men, especially. I won’t have a problem getting Tiberius alone.” She smirked. “You just have to bring me there.”

  “How?” Steve asked. He didn’t doubt her capability—Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that—but he wasn’t sure what she was asking. “I only managed to get back here through the Parallel Reflector, which is in Mythicus. In fact, I was in Ethereus when I did that. I have no idea how I made it work. And my Myth Maker, who betrayed me, mind you, is still stuck in Mythicus. So, tell me, how can I help you?”

  Scarlet frowned. She was quiet for a moment as she pondered.

  Then her eyes lit up. “I have an idea,” she said, massaging her chin.

  Aiden and Steve looked at her expectantly.

  She turned and marched toward the front door.

  “Where are you going?” Steve asked.

  At the door, she gave her best Terminator impression and said, “I’ll be back.” She opened the door. Before leaving, she said, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you.”

  Then she was gone, leaving Steve and Aiden scratching their heads.

  “Wait for her for . . . what?” Steve asked.

  Aiden shrugged. “No idea, mate. I sympathize with the poor sap that tries to stop that crazy lady.”

  Steve leaned back in the couch and closed his eyes. He absentmindedly started massaging his jaw, which still ached, and said, “What a day.”

  Aiden was saying something, but the words weren’t connecting with Steve. He felt something tugging at his brain, seeping in, like a fog or mist. It was a strange sensation. His eyes darted around under his lids.

  When he opened them, Geddon stood in front of him.

  Shocked, Steve leaped from the couch and jumped behind it. His skin crawled with goosebumps. Geddon didn’t move.

  Steve scanned the room. He was still in Shannon’s house, but the sleeping people on the couches seemed fainter, as did Aiden. Only Geddon’s paunchy body stuck out like a sore thumb.

  “W-What the hell is going on?” Steve asked aloud.

  “You aren’t the only one who can dream-leap, Steve Remington,” Geddon said.

  Steve growled, “Get out of my head, you bastard!”

  Geddon frowned. “Is that any way to talk to a friend?”

  With a mirthless laugh, Steve took a step forward, until his hands rested on the back of the couch. “Friend? You tried to have me killed!”

  “Incorrect,” Geddon said, “I tried to reconnect you with your father.”

  “To suit your own greedy purposes. Don’t try to flip this on me. You killed Tetsuo! After all that work finding him.”

  “True enough,” Geddon said. He wasn’t too bothered by the situation, unlike Steve. “Tetsuo had lost touch with the people, Steve. I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll make a better leader for the Vagrant Kinship.”

  “Your actions destroyed the Kinship, Geddon.” Steve wouldn’t allow himself to use the “Geddy” nickname of endearment.

  Geddon noticed and frowned, but said nothing.

  “What are you d
oing here?”

  “Seeing how you’re getting along,” Geddon said, his eyes searching the room. “It’s boring in Mythicus.”

  “Boring?” Steve said incredulously. Last time he’d been in Mythicus, people were dying and flames were flying and it was anything but boring. What the hell was Geddon talking about?

  Geddon nodded. “We are still Bound, you know. That’s why it was so easy to leap to you.”

  “I figured,” Steve said. He narrowed his eyes and found himself pushing forward with his mind, inadvertently. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it made Geddon raise his eyebrows.

  “What are you doing?” Geddon asked.

  Steve’s mouth became a thin line and he pushed with invisible force, harder. Geddon’s body seemed to be fading, growing lighter and fainter. At the same time, Steve’s surroundings were shedding away. The white walls of Shannon’s house turned dark and gray and filthy.

  Geddon’s mouth fell open. “What the hell was that?” He was no longer standing in Shannon Barton’s living room.

  Steve didn’t know where they were. It was a small room—little bigger than a full-size bathroom—dimly lit by two candles. In a corner of the room a body was curled up against the right angle of two walls. The body was in shadow and Steve couldn’t make out the face.

  “Dammit,” Geddon snarled.

  Steve finally understood what he’d done. Geddon’s angry reaction confirmed his belief. He’d pushed Geddon out of his Ethereus plane and dream-leaped into Geddon’s mind and place.

  “No wonder Mythicus is so boring to you,” Steve said flatly, glancing around the room. “You’re a prisoner.”

  “We’re all prisoners, Steve.”

  “Whatever, Aristotle.” Steve’s eyes locked on the shadowy body in the corner of the room.

  Geddon stepped in front of Steve’s line of sight and waved his hand. “Now . . . get out!” He snapped his fingers and pushed back with substantial spirit force.

  A wave of dizziness rocked Steve as it hit his mind. He staggered back a step, until he was against the wall. Geddon attacked his mind again. He closed his eyes, trying to remain in control. Is this what Annabel meant about losing yourself in Ethereus and getting trapped forever?

  Not today, Satan, he thought. He held his focus for a moment longer, his eyes still clenched shut.

  Before another numbing wave could strike him, he grunted and opened his eyes. He was back on the couch in Shannon Barton’s house. His body heaved and sweat rolled down his forehead.

  The edges of his vision went black and he felt on the verge of passing out.

  “Steve, are you all right?” Aiden asked.

  Steve shook his head and opened his mouth to respond . . .

  Then he was gone again.

  HE WASN’T VERY FAR up from the ground. The table in front of him came up to his forehead, and it wasn’t a very high table. He could see sharply—much better than usual.

  Steve was confused.

  Where am I?

  The body he looked out from recoiled in shock, jumping a foot in the air. “Ahhh!” it cried out.

  “What is wrong, little friend?” a woman’s voice asked from behind.

  The body shook its head and turned around.

  Steve recognized the person he was looking at—or, rather, the body he inhabited was looking at.

  She had dark skin and the ragged clothes of a forest hermit, with black hair plaited down her back. She wasn’t very tall, but her eyes were piercing and bright.

  It was Pua Kila, the widowed Nawao wife of Ulu Koa.

  They were both inside somewhere: Pua Kila and the body Steve looked out from.

  Steve recognized a staircase as they passed it. The crimson rug . . . the Gothic styling of this place . . .

  He was in the Lee household.

  His heart jumped at the thought. Annabel!

  The body he looked out from stopped walking. It shook its head again and Steve felt numb.

  Where is my body? Shit . . . how am I so short? I can’t even see over that table!

  The body he looked out from growled and smacked its own head with its palm. Its ears rang, and in turn Steve’s disembodied ears rang also.

  “Wafer-man, is that you?” the body said aloud.

  Steve instantly recognized the voice.

  Lig?

  “How in all hell did you get in there?”

  I’m in your head? Steve wondered.

  “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

  I . . . I’m not sure. I was having a back and forth dream-leaping battle with Geddon, I think . . . and he sort of flung me out of his mind and into yours. I guess?

  “Odd,” Lig said. His voice sounded different in his own ears—it wasn’t as high-pitched and it rumbled more. “Can you vacate the premises?”

  I’m not sure how.

  “Well, do you have any treats for me?”

  Steve laughed in Lig’s mind. None I can get you right now, my friend.

  “Then shut up and let me do my work. You’re distracting me.”

  “Who is distracting you, sir?” Pua Kila asked.

  Lig waved his hand at her. “Don’t let that worry you, madam. Follow me, please.”

  They wandered away from the stairs. Lig moved quickly, Pua Kila not far behind. They walked through a hall and came to the large library Steve had perused in the past.

  Inside the library sat Constantin Lee, on a chair with a book on his lap, his legs crossed like a proper nobleman.

  “Well, well,” Constantin said, closing his book with a loud smack. Dust floated into the air around his pale face.

  He looked the same as he had when Steve saw him last. It occurred to him that a) that wasn’t that long ago, and b) vampires don’t age like humans.

  “You must be the leader of the Nawao warriors,” Constantin said.

  Pua Kila gave her host a short bow. “I am, my lord,” she said. “Your little friend told me you would house my brothers and sisters, until the enemy stops looking for me.”

  “The enemy?” Constantin asked.

  “The Reynoldses,” Lig said, standing to the side.

  Steve could hear the goings-on loud and clear, but he wished Lig was a little taller, so he could see more than two pairs of legs.

  “Shut up,” Lig said.

  “Excuse me?” Constantin replied.

  Lig blanched. “Er, nothing, master. That wasn’t meant . . . for you. Please, continue.”

  Constantin watched the little brownie for a moment. He turned back to Pua Kila and said, “Lig has spoken true, Lady of the Forest. I offer you guest rights in my home, if you are willing. The vicious Reynoldses are no doubt looking for your people. They won’t think to look practically right under their noses. I’m sure of it. Plus, they aren’t welcome here at the moment.”

  “I thought they were your allies?” Pua Kila asked.

  Constantin shook his head. He towered over the petite, muscled woman. “Not since the . . . situation regarding my daughter and their son.”

  Situation? Steve thought, frantic. What situation?

  “Quiet,” Lig said in a low voice.

  Constantin cleared his throat and turned on the brownie once more. “Lig, is there something you’d like to tell me? Are you alone with us here?”

  Lig twirled his thumbs together and stammered. “Y-Yes, master, of course. What ever do you mean?” He sounded extremely guilty just the way he spoke.

  Constantin gave him a stern look and waved him off. “Interrupt us again and I’ll have you leave.”

  Lig pantomimed zipping his mouth shut.

  “The only reason I’m letting you stay is because you did a fine job tracking this woman and her ilk. Pua Kila, I will indeed house your people for as long as you need. But in return, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Pua Kila shifted her weight from foot to foot. Lig couldn’t see further up than her knees without raising his head. Not without becoming a nuisance again.

  “What
would you have me do?” she asked.

  Constantin paused. He was deliberate and took his time formulating his words. When he spoke, his voice was deeper and lower than usual. “Your people are renowned trackers, yes?”

  Pua Kila’s whole body moved as she nodded.

  “I am convinced my son is dead, though I won’t say that to my wife. Mariana would die . . . er, be heartbroken . . .” Constantin sighed. Mariana could be neither of those things, dead or heartbroken. “She has hope that Charles is still alive. Call me a pessimist, but I don’t see any reason that boy my daughter regards so dearly would lie. Steven, his name was. I don’t think he lied about Charles’ death. And I’d like you to find out where my son’s body has been taken. The Reynoldses have done something with my boy . . . I’m sure of it.”

  It’s in their basement freezer! Steve wanted to cry out.

  Lig almost opened his mouth, but he managed to stay silent as Steve yelled in his mind.

  “Did Mister Remington not say it was in their . . . freezer? Whatever that might be?” Pua Kila asked.

  Steve forgot she’d been there, surrounding the wedding with her warriors, when he’d made his hopeless speech.

  It is!

  “It isn’t,” Constantin said. “At least, not any longer. I’m assuming they moved the body. But there are a few people who saw my boy’s body and can confirm my suspicions.”

  “Like me,” Lig blurted out. “I seen it.”

  Constantin said, “Yes, Lig, so I’ve heard. But I need more than your word. Don’t you see?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “That is why I would have you find someone else who might know where the body would be.”

  “Like whom?” Pua Kila asked, sufficiently confused. She was a superb tracker, yes, but she still needed a target to track. Constantin seemed to be grasping at straws.

  “I don’t . . . know.”

  An epiphany came to Steve.

  Fuscia! She saw the body and followed us to the house when we confirmed it was Charles. He was Fuscia’s lover!

  Lig stammered. “Er, sir—”

  “Dammit, Lig, what?!” Constantin shouted in a booming voice. “Didn’t I tell you not—”

  “I may know who could find the body, master!” Lig blurted out, his only hope for redemption.