by Cory Barclay
He waltzed past the guards and continued down a dark hallway. The house was in much better shape than the jail cell. He had assumed the cell Geddon and Selestria resided in was one of many—part of a dungeon or jailhouse. But it seemed it was a single room in a large mansion. The walls were smooth mahogany and the floor was carpeted.
He passed a few rooms—a study, a small library, a bathroom—before hearing voices further down the hall.
He rounded a corner and came to a larger study with a majestic chandelier hanging from the center. The chandelier held ten or so candles. He heard a strange sound and looked up.
A cat prowled along the silver arms of the chandelier, meowing and pawing a candle, ten feet above the ground.
Steve froze in place. A white spot on the underside of the black and gray cat gave it away.
Misty.
The cat froze like a statue also, its head cocking to the side in puzzlement. It dipped its face and seemed to stare at the unmoving body of Steve.
Seconds passed like hours. Steve didn’t dare move. He knew Misty shouldn’t be able to see him, not while she was on Mythicus and he was on Ethereus, but he couldn’t be sure. Sometimes things didn’t make sense in these wonky alternate planes.
After a long while, Misty’s yellow eyes looked away from Steve. She launched herself from the chandelier to a dresser, landing on all four legs like only a cat could do. Then she dropped to the ground, glanced back at Steve once more, and vanished into another room.
Steve could feel sweat dripping down his armpits. He exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath the entire time. It was like he’d been staring at a T-Rex or some other animal that couldn’t see him if he stood still.
Feeling more and more like prey, he decided to go through a different door than the one Misty had scampered through. Plus, he heard voices nearby. He went to an open door and stood behind it, then poked his head out.
Even though he was protected, theoretically, by being a spirit in a physical plane, he was still cautious.
In the room beyond, three blackguards stood in a semi-circle near the door. They blocked Steve’s line of sight, their backs facing him. He ducked to get a different angle, until he could see past them.
Geddon and Selestria were in the center of the room, both with their hands bound behind their backs. They were on their knees as if they were about to be executed, gangland style.
Overseer Malachite, Steve’s father, stared at them with his arms crossed over his chest.
At seeing his father, Steve felt a wave of anger course through his veins.
“You must be wondering why I’m keeping you alive,” Malachite said to his prisoners. They didn’t bother responding. “The Vagrant Kinship has been quite a thorn in my ass, as you both well know.”
“That’s the point,” Geddon muttered.
Malachite frowned. He nodded to one of the blackguards standing behind Geddon. The blackguard took a step forward and hit Geddon across the back of the head with his gauntlet. It pinged off Geddon and made him topple over to the side. Steve flinched. The blackguard picked Geddon up, returning him to his knees.
For what it was worth, Geddon didn’t make a single sound from the beating.
“You two will lead me to the other leaders of the Kinship,” Malachite informed them.
“Like hell we will,” Geddon replied.
“They aren’t talking to us,” Selestria added.
Steve still hadn’t seen either of their faces. He was curious. Also, from where he stood, if someone was going to recognize him, they would have done so by now.
He walked into the room and stood beside one of the blackguards. He stood so close they could have been holding hands.
His father said, “Why aren’t they talking to you?”
Selestria’s body tensed. “Ask him,” she said, nudging her chin at Geddon.
Geddon said nothing.
Selestria sighed. “It’s because he killed Tetsuo, our leader. He assumed he could take control, like a fool, but the people don’t trust him. We couldn’t help you if we wanted, because we don’t know their whereabouts.”
Malachite caressed his chin in contemplation. After a long pause, he said, “I don’t believe you. That’s not how a resistance works, woman. When one leader dies, no matter how powerful, the whole thing doesn’t fall apart. If it does, that’s a sign of a weak resistance which, it begrudges me to say, I know the Kinship is not. Don’t try to play me for a fool.”
“But it’s so easy,” Selestria quipped.
Without needing to be signaled, a blackguard stepped forward and slapped her across the face. She cried out and reeled, falling on the side of her head.
Steve gasped and covered his mouth, cringing at the violent display against the nymph.
Geddon growled and tried to leap to his feet in one smooth move.
Overseer Malachite took a step forward and kicked out with his heavy boot. He struck Geddon in the face, sending him flying onto his back.
Steve saw Geddon’s face for the first time, looking at him upside down. He sported a scraggly beard. His face was cut in various spots and blood dribbled down his cheek and nose, into his beard.
Geddon’s eyes shot open, then bulged, as if he could see Steve.
Steve felt goosebumps rise on his arms. He was sure Geddon couldn’t see him, and figured Geddon’s eyes had bulged merely because he was in pain. He didn’t want to think what it meant if Geddon could see him. Then Malachite could presumably see him, too, if he tried hard enough. The last thing Steve wanted to do was present himself to his father, after all the work he’d done to keep himself away from capture.
“How long did the Nazis last after Hitler?” Geddon asked as he was pulled up to his knees again. “Or Alexander the Great’s empire after he died? The Mongols after Genghis Khan? A movement becomes a success because of their leaders. Kill the leaders, they lose direction . . . like I’m sure the Brethren would if you died.”
Malachite chuckled. He went another step closer to Geddon, causing the prisoner to flinch in fear, but this time the Overseer didn’t lay a hand on him. He crouched and looked Geddon square in the eye. “That’s a false equivalency, my friend. You will never be as powerful as those men, nor will the Vagrant Kinship. You lack the ambition.”
“But the Brethren of Soreltris will?” Geddon asked, clenching his jaw. “You give yourself too much credit, Malachite.”
The Overseer frowned. He reached out and grabbed Geddon’s hair, then shook his head back and forth. “Who knows where the Brethren will go? Once I get the Parallel Reflector working again, the sky is the limit. Actually, the sky is only the beginning. We will see other worlds.” His eyes glittered as he said the last sentence.
“You would seek to harm your own plane? Terrus?” Selestria asked. “What kind of monster are you?”
Malachite scowled. “I never said that, you ignorant bitch. But I will see the coexistence of my people with yours. Mythics and humans will breed together. I’ll create a race of people with powers unlike anything anyone has seen before.”
Steve felt like he was going to be sick, hearing his father speak this way. Somehow, in the time since coming to Mythicus, he’d gone completely insane. He was speaking like Magneto or something—wishing to create a “super race”—but that guy was a comic book villain. This was actually happening! Could Richard be serious? Where was all this coming from?
“It’s too bad you don’t have the power to fulfill your illusions of grandeur,” Geddon spat. “Because it doesn’t sound like a half bad dream.”
Malachite chuckled. It was not a nice chuckle.
Geddon smiled back at him, his bloody lips cracking. “Can you not see that the Council controls you? Do you really think they’ll let you keep the Reflector for yourself?”
Malachite’s evil smile disappeared. He growled and stood very still. Then he kicked Geddon again, in the stomach this time, and the big man doubled over. Malachite’s anger wasn’t sated. He sa
vagely stomped the helpless Mythic, until finally Geddon cried out in pain.
“Stop it!” Selestria shouted, flinching as she watched Geddon get pummeled. “You’ll kill him!”
Through kicks and labored breathing, Malachite said, “Why should you care? He killed your husband. I’m surprised you don’t want to help me!”
Selestria said, “He’s still your only chance of finding the other leaders of the Kinship.”
Malachite stopped kicking Geddon, his foot stuck in midair.
Oops, Steve thought, that was a mistake. He hoped Selestria knew what she was doing.
Geddon rolled around on the ground, coughing and spitting out blood. Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for Geddon, though he soon let the feeling wash away.
Why should I feel sorry for the guy who betrayed me? I trusted him. I called him a friend.
“Because I can save you,” Geddon said.
Steve froze, his mouth falling open.
“What did you say?” Malachite asked.
You’ve been able to see me the whole time?
Geddon didn’t reply. He pushed himself to his side with his head, then back to his knees. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, though, and Steve knew it was aimed at him, though he looked at Malachite.
“I said . . . I can save you from your enemies, from your Council,” Geddon said, clearly improvising.
Overseer Malachite laughed. He shook his head and glanced at Selestria, then narrowed his eyes on her. When his laugh ended, his dark smile remained. “You said Geddon is the only chance of finding the other leaders of the Kinship . . . but that isn’t quite true, is it, nymph?”
Selestria opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Malachite pointed at her, coming to some sort of revelation. “You’re a Myth Hunter! You can help me find them.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Selestria said.
Overseer Malachite started pacing, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a few moments, he stopped and faced Geddon. “Is that true, what she says?”
Geddon said, “She can find someone if she has their Conveyor—”
“Stop it, Geddon!” Selestria cried.
“—That tethers them to this realm. Without that, she is just as you and I.”
Malachite slowly nodded. “Very well. Geddon, you will help me find the leaders of the movement you cherish so much. You will have a day to decide to help me or not. If you refuse, I will kill Selestria.”
Before Geddon could say anything, Malachite continued. “You two cozied up to my son for quite some time. I want you to tell me what you know about him—how he could have gone through the Parallel Reflector. What made Steve so special?”
Steve took a step back, suddenly frightened for his own life. He knew he was being foolish—that Malachite couldn’t see him—but it made him uncomfortable to hear his dad say his name.
Geddon’s neck turned for a split second, as if he was trying to look behind him to see if Steve was still there. The message was clear: Don’t go anywhere.
Steve had his own ideas on the subject, but he wanted to hear Geddon’s opinion. He stayed in the room, despite Selestria’s death sentence hanging over him.
Geddon cleared his throat. “Your son has more power than you understand,” he began. “I’ve never seen a stronger dream-leaper.”
“Is that a fact?”
“That’s a fact.”
“That must be why he was able to penetrate my defenses and reach me on Ethereus, at the wedding, despite the barriers I have in place.”
“I assume so.”
Malachite mulled that over for a moment. “Interesting. What else?”
Selestria refused to look at Geddon at this point. Clearly disgusted with him, she found a nice spot on the ground to fix her eyes.
Geddon continued. “It’s my understanding he also had his Conveyor on his person, at the wedding, which few people do. Since it is the one item tethering a person to Mythicus, people are usually keen to keep theirs hidden.”
“And the leprechaun that went with him?” Malachite asked.
Geddon shrugged. “He had his Conveyor on his person, too.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because I was both of their Myth Makers. I know what their Conveyors were.”
“What were they?”
“A dollar bill, for each of them,” Geddon said.
Malachite chuckled. “Clever. Give them a piece of paper that’s useless on Mythicus, and make it the most important possession they own.”
Geddon ignored that. “Were the two of them connected, physically, in any way when they went through the mirror?”
Malachite nodded. “The leprechaun was holding onto my son’s arm.”
“Well, there you go,” Geddon said matter-of-factly. He twitched again, trying to turn around to face Steve, but he stopped midway. “They were in Ethereus when they went through the mirror. They both had their Conveyors on their person. Doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me.”
“Perhaps you’re onto something,” Malachite said in a low voice. He was deep in thought. Without facing Geddon, he said, “Maybe I need someone to help me get better at dream-leaping.”
Geddon was silent.
Malachite had calmed down and was almost talking to Geddon like they were equals. He finally broke that perceived spell and said, “Bring them back to their cell. Geddon, you have twenty-four hours to give up your cohorts, or your lover dies.”
“We are not lovers,” Selestria spat.
Malachite chuckled. “Tell that to him,” he said, then turned on his heels and left the room.
Steve understood what had just happened. Geddon was a traitor, yes, twice, thrice over. But his message to Malachite regarding the Parallel Reflector—that was aimed at Steve as much as it was aimed at the Overseer.
Adrenaline filled Steve’s body. Geddon’s thoughts on the Parallel Reflector had matched his own. He was almost giddy from excitement.
The blackguards closed in on the prisoners and picked them up by their arms, standing them on their feet.
Steve closed his eyes and thought of home.
Geddon and Selestria turned around. Geddon had his mouth open, ready to say something to Steve in passing.
But Steve was already gone.
CHAPTER NINE
When Steve came to, he felt warmth on his face. He cracked open his eyes and immediately closed them again. A line of sunlight shot through a window, straight into his eyes. He rolled away from the wall he leaned against. His eyes ventured around the living room until they landed on a clock hanging on the wall. It was almost 8:00 a.m.
The couch Aiden slept on and Dale’s loveseat were both empty. Shepherd still occupied the smaller couch, sleeping.
Steve yawned and stretched. He felt his body creak and bones crunch. His mouth was dry, but on the floor next to him someone had left a glass of water. His head ached from the latest dream-leaping escapade, so he chugged the water as quickly as he could.
Helping himself to his feet, he stretched one more time by trying to touch his toes. Then he shuffled away from the living room. Rubbing one of his eyes with his palm, he came to the kitchen, where Dale and Shannon were making breakfast. It smelled of garlic and eggs and bacon. Steve smiled, missing the smell of a home cooked breakfast.
He stood in the walkway for a moment, unnoticed. Dale had no shirt on. It was a sight to see, his hairy body enough for children to mistake him for a Yeti. Shannon did have a shirt on. She flipped the bacon with a spatula, and Dale pinched her butt. She giggled and did a little squirmy dance.
“Morning,” Steve said, deciding to speak up before things took a more intimate turn.
Neither of them looked at him. Shannon’s joy seemed to leave her face. She continued staring at the bacon like it had all the answers to her problems. It was clear how Shannon felt about Dale’s friends staying over for a slumber party.
“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome, Fats,” St
eve said, for Shannon’s sake.
“Bollocks!” Dale said in his best English accent, which wasn’t very passable.
“That’s kind of you, Steve,” Shannon said, ignoring her boyfriend. She turned to him and gave him a half-smile. “You know you’re welcome here anytime.” Her tone told Steve he was not in fact welcome there anytime, and he should be going ASAP.
“Thank you, Shannon. Can I steal Dale for a second?”
Shannon shrugged and went back to her bacon, flipping them again.
Dale followed Steve out of the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“Seen Aiden and Scarlet?”
“They were gone before I woke up. Must have run off into the night.”
“When did you wake up?”
Dale shrugged. “An hour ago?” The corners of his mouth twisted into a smile as he leaned forward. “Why, do you think they got away to do the hanky-panky?” He pantomimed sticking a finger back and forth through a hole he’d made with the other hand.
Steve groaned. “What are you, five?”
Dale said, “No, I’m a healthy six, seven on a randy day. Shannon tells her friends six, but that’s because she measures from the—”
Steve showed Dale his palm, begging him to stop. He was shaking his head with his eyes closed in consternation. It was much too early for Dale talk.
“Sorry,” Dale said, but Steve could tell by his face he wasn’t sorry.
“Why are you so chipper this morning?” Steve asked, feeling like a father scolding his much bigger son. “Two of our greatest—and shadiest—assets are missing. That doesn’t worry you?”
Dale shrugged. “I guess I’m just excited for an adventure. A quest. Besides, I’m sure they’ll come around.”
“Have you told Shannon?”
“That I’m packing seven? Oh, she knows—”
“Dale.”
“Right.” Dale had the decency to look a bit shamefaced as he averted his gaze from Steve’s piercing eyes. He made the slightest nudge with his head, a quick left to right.
Steve sighed. “When are you planning on telling her? We have to meet with Charlene at midnight tonight.”
