Mythbound Trilogy Boxed Set

by Cory Barclay

  “Yes, I can, husband,” Mariana said, leading her horse to the stables around the back of the house. They had no stable boy and they liked it that way. It took them a couple minutes to get the horses settled in their stalls.

  Once finished, they headed to the front of the house. Before they reached the front door, Constantin heard footsteps in the distance, thanks to his heightened sense of hearing.

  He turned and saw three figures approaching: Pua Kil, Lig, and a naked woman he’d never laid eyes on before. She was blonde and covered her breasts with her arms as she approached.

  “We’ve returned, master,” Lig said helpfully, a smile on his face. He was covered in dirt and soil and looked like he’d aged years in the day he’d been gone. Still, he seemed satisfied.

  Constantin felt a burden on his shoulders. His entire future strategy rested on what his little house brownie had to say. He also couldn’t take his eyes from the nude woman, and before he could say anything to Lig, Mariana butted in. “Who’s this?” she asked, rather disapprovingly. “And why is she unclothed?”

  “This is Fuscia, master. The one we’ve been looking for,” Lig said proudly.

  A moment of silence fell over the group. The wind breezed through Fuscia’s straggly hair, whipping it across her face.

  “Well? What do you have to report?” Constantin asked, not allowing anyone into his house until he had answers.

  “Good news, my lord,” Lig said. “We indeed found the burial site of your son.” He beamed.

  A broken sob erupted from behind Constantin. He spun around in time to see Mariana rush into the house, her hands covering her face. When the vampire patriarch turned around, his face was filled with rage and menace. Lig’s smile disappeared. “You fucking imbecile,” he said, taking a step forward, ready to strike the brownie. “She was hoping Charles was still alive! Where’s your decency?”

  Lig gulped. “M-My apologies, master. I . . . forgot.”

  Constantin clenched his fists. Just then, he finally heard the words Lig had said. His son’s burial site had been found. “Where’s the body?”

  “We . . . didn’t have enough people to carry the dead weight, my lord. But the site is less than a day away, in the woods.”

  “You will lead me to him,” Constantin said. With that, he strode into the house, leaving Lig, Pua Kila, and Fuscia staring at each other, exhausted from their travels.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When Steve came to, he found he was lying on a bed, sheets covering him. His face was slick with sweat. The comforter was soaked. A lamp at the end of the room gave off a blurry shine. He blinked a few times to get his bearings. A dull headache pounded behind his eyes. Silhouettes surrounded the bed, slowly coming into focus.

  “There he is,” Dale said from Steve’s left, reaching out to pat Steve on the head like he was a sick dog. “See, I told you he would come around,” he said to someone across the bed. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

  Aiden, on Steve’s right, groaned and dug into a pocket. He reached over the bed and handed the $20 bill to Dale.

  “You guys bet on whether he would live or not?” Scarlet asked, standing next to Aiden. “Unbelievable.”

  Neither the leprechaun nor Dale seemed ashamed as they shrugged.

  “I knew he would,” Dale said with a smile, “because Aiden never wins a bet.”

  “Bollocks,” Aiden replied.

  Steve’s tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth. “H-How long have I been out?”

  “All day, mate,” Aiden said.

  Steve tried to recall what happened. His thoughts were fuzzy. He remembered being in the shower . . . then . . .

  He lifted the sheets, peeked under, and found he was wearing only underwear. To Dale, he said, “What happened?”

  “I dunno, man. Me and Shannon were doing our thing in the kitchen, then we heard a loud bang. I ran into the bathroom and you were on the shower floor.”

  “You . . . clothed me?”

  Dale nodded. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let Scarlet or Shannon see anything. You wouldn’t have liked that. It would have been pretty embarrassing for you since the water seemed to shrink—”

  “I get it,” Steve croaked.

  “Right. When I got you on the bed, after a little while you started convulsing, like you were having a seizure. It was scary, man.”

  “When did you two show up?” Steve asked Aiden and Scarlet, remembering the duo had been absent when he’d woken up that morning. He glanced past them and from a window saw it was dark outside.

  “We went to discuss some things, mate,” Aiden said. “Since we’ll be separated in Mythicus—she’s going with the Maker, I’m going with you—I had to give us a rendezvous point.”

  “Where did you decide?” Steve didn’t believe that was all the two Mythics spoke about during their absence. Why would they have to leave the house if they were talking about something so mundane?

  “My house,” Aiden said. “I need to make sure my gold is under lock and key.”

  Dale scoffed. “Don’t you ever think about anything other than money?”

  “You mistake my meaning,” Aiden said, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I’m going to fund this insurgency, I need to make sure my money is there when I get there. Understand?”

  Dale frowned.

  The door at the end of the room flew open. Shannon walked in, carrying a tray. A steaming bowl of something sat on the tray. “I’ve brought you soup, Steve,” she said with a half-smile. “You need to eat.” She rested the tray on the nightstand next to Steve, said, “I’m glad you’re all right,” then left the room.

  “Thanks, babe,” Dale said when she was on the way out, but she didn’t respond. Turning back to Steve, he added, “Isn’t she sweet?”

  Steve nodded. He took the tray, put it on his lap, and started slurping up the chicken noodle soup. It was mild but it warmed his bones and he immediately felt relief. His head ached less, his body didn’t feel as sickly.

  After he finished eating the soup, he rested his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes with an “Ahhh.”

  “Feel better?” Scarlet asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” she said, “because we don’t have much time before we’ve got to go.”

  Steve opened his eyes, raising a single eyebrow. “Go where?”

  “Your brain must still be scrambled,” she said. “We have to meet with Charlene in two hours. That’s also where we went, to inspect the place she picked to meet us.”

  “And this place is . . .”

  “A park.”

  Steve took a deep breath. “Balboa Park?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Guessed. It should be pretty damn secluded at midnight.”

  “That’s what we fear,” Scarlet said.

  “Fear is the wrong word,” Aiden added. “We ain’t afraid of the place. We’re . . . concerned, is all.”

  Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Call it what you will. A huge park like that has plenty of hiding spots, especially at night.”

  “You think she’s trying to ambush us?” Steve asked.

  Scarlet shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. We don’t know this girl. We only know she has blue hair.”

  Steve chuckled. “But you’re friends with her idol, Nersi.”

  “Charlene isn’t Nersi.”

  “All right.”

  “All right.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Dale interjected, trying to ease the tension. “You rest for a little while and in an hour we’ll get going.”

  “I’m ready to go now,” Steve said, lifting his head off the pillow. As he did, bright colors dotted the space in front of him and he panicked. He leaned back on the pillow.

  “No, sir,” Dale said, shaking his head. “Tell me, Steve-o, who’s our president?”

  Steve narrowed his eyes on his best friend. “Don’t make me say it.”

  Dale shrugged at Aiden and Scarlet. “That’s good enough for
me.”

  “Rest a little while longer, Steve. I implore you,” Scarlet said. “And I recommend you avoid dream-leaping for a bit. I think it’s sapping your energy, which is why you went into a coma today.”

  Steve frowned, but then slowly nodded. He didn’t like that word, “coma.” But what else do you call it when you’re unconscious for eight hours and can hardly remember a thing when you come to? At least he had friends to worry and take care of him, and for that he was thankful.

  “Come on,” Scarlet said to Aiden and Dale, “let’s let him rest.”

  Before the trio reached the door, Steve called out: “What happened to Shepherd?”

  Dale said, “He’s been drinking and meditating all day.”

  “How do you drink and meditate at the same time?”

  “He doesn’t. He drinks a beer. Then he meditates. Shannon’s getting tired of his shit. He’s been using her yoga mat.” Judging by Dale’s short sentences, he was also getting tired of Shepherd’s shit.

  “Interesting. Why is he meditating?”

  “To help you, he says.”

  Steve scratched his scalp. “Well . . . okay.”

  “See you in a little, Steve-o.”

  When Dale, Aiden, and Scarlet had left the room, Steve closed his eyes. He was out again before he had any time to ponder Shepherd’s strange habits.

  WHEN HE OPENED HIS eyes, he was still in bed. Magically. Mystically. He hadn’t dream-leaped. He sighed in relief. He felt much better, stretched his arms, and tore off the covers. He sat up on the edge of the bed, looking around for his clothes. They were hanging in the bathroom. Apparently, Dale had not only dressed him, like a baby, but had cleaned his clothes. Or Shannon had.

  He changed in the bathroom. The clothes had that newly washed fabric smell. He hadn’t realized how much he missed clean clothes. On Terrus, he had no place of residence. If it wasn’t for his friends, he’d be like Shepherd, out on the streets. It made him feel guilty about mocking the poor guy.

  He’s just a former killer—a soldier in an oppressive regime—trying to change his evil ways. I bet he has terrible PTSD. Maybe that’s why he meditates, drinks, and sleeps so much.

  Steve had worried the dream-leaping hangover would be something permanent. He was unbelievably relieved to find it wasn’t the case. He needed to be careful, set himself a limit, and make sure he didn’t go over that limit. There was clearly a threshold to his power—he needed to find out where it was.

  As he looked at himself in the mirror, a strange thought came to him.

  The Spirit Watcher, pointing a thin finger at him. Well, not at him, but at Lig. Somehow, that finger had seemed to be pointing through Lig, though, and directed at Steve. He had no doubt about it.

  Who is the Spirit Watcher? What does she want with me?

  He shivered and shrugged away the thoughts. Those were questions for another time. For now, he had business to take care of.

  He walked out of the restroom and out of Shannon’s room, feeling like a new man. He looked at the clock on the wall: 11:02 p.m.

  “Perfect timing,” Dale said from his loveseat. He already had three beers crushed and set up like a small pyramid on the coffee table. “We were about to wake you.”

  “How do you feel?” Scarlet asked.

  “Like a million bucks,” Steve said, ambling to the couches with a bit of pep in his step.

  “Good. Let’s go.” Scarlet opened the front door and walked out. “I want to get there early.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Steve said. He followed her, and Dale followed him.

  Aiden was left at the couch, shaking Shepherd awake. “Come on, mate, let’s get a move on. It’s show time.”

  Shepherd groggily nodded, got to his feet, and yawned. He followed Aiden outside, and before long they were in their respective cars.

  Steve decided to drive with Scarlet this time, since it would be the last time he saw her for a while. And she drove fast, which he appreciated.

  Once inside her cherry-red Mustang, she revved the gas and took off down the road. They went the same route they’d gone the night before to get to the Casbah: heading for the I-5 Freeway.

  Balboa Park was home of the World Famous San Diego Zoo, the Old Globe playhouse, the Fleet Science Center, and all sorts of museums and art galleries.

  They made it to the freeway and hadn’t spoken a single word to each other. Steve wondered if he was neglecting an opportunity. His heart still pounded whenever he was around Scarlet. But that was a natural occurrence whenever a person was in close proximity to a succubus. He was able to squash his lurid thoughts quickly these days.

  “Tell me,” he began, “when you’re in Mythicus, will you search for your cousin?”

  “No,” Scarlet answered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m going to be there for as long as necessary, and no longer than that. I don’t need any side quests.”

  Steve frowned. “You don’t care if she’s alive or dead?”

  “Of course I do. But she chose her path a long time ago. We were close when we were children, but that’s all behind us. The only similarities we had was being against the establishment of Brethren and wanting to get out. We’ve both succeeded, but now I’m stupidly going back into the middle of it.”

  “You don’t sound too stoked.”

  “Ya think?”

  “I’m sorry you feel obliged to go with us, Scarlet,” Steve said in a serious tone. He knew Scarlet was an angry person, at least on the outside, and he wanted to try to make her happier, but he didn’t know how. He hoped, maybe, that going to Mythicus would brighten her outlook. But it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

  “Look,” she said, “I joined your raggedy group so I could get there, but that’s it. I can only be around an alcoholic leprechaun, a standup comedian, and a sad homeless soldier for so long. No offense, but my only objective is to avenge my mother—”

  “Which makes our objectives the same, because I’m trying to stop Tiberius, too. And Jareth. And that whole damned family.”

  Scarlet paused with her mouth slightly ajar. She breathed through her nose and clucked her tongue. “I guess so.”

  They were quiet as she pulled off the freeway. Steve decided he’d rather be in Dale’s girlfriend’s car at that particular moment. They were probably drinking beers and listening to Lynryd Skynyrd or something. Scarlet’s car was getting pretty stuffy.

  In fact, Steve rolled down his window once they were off the freeway, and took a deep breath of the cool nighttime air.

  He loved this city.

  But he knew he didn’t belong anymore. When he made the decision to go to Mythicus the first time, that was when his life irreparably changed.

  He was aware he was currently only remembering the good times. Toward the end of his Earthly stay, he had mainly been haunted by bad times.

  “I’m sorry,” Scarlet said out of the blue.

  Steve glanced at her. “For what?” he asked. Clearly, she had been going over an existential crisis in her mind for the last few minutes.

  “For calling your friend’s raggedy, and all the other shit I said. They’re good people. They have your back, and that’s more than I can say for anyone I know.”

  Steve smiled. “I have your back.”

  That got a shadow of a smile out of Scarlet—for an instant. Then she was gazing at the road again, weaving around the empty streets of Downtown San Diego at 11:30 p.m. on a Monday.

  IT WAS EERIE WALKING through Balboa Park so late at night. The two groups had parked after driving over the bridge leading into the park. A thin fog enveloped the land, adding to the ominous ambiance. There wasn’t much to see at night, except for the colored lights that lit up the church-like buildings.

  Balboa Park was where Steve had first met his ex-girlfriend, Julie. He tried to bury his nostalgic memories. His relationship with Julie had sullied any happy thoughts he might have had about the place.

  The group had been instructed t
o meet Charlene outside of the Old Globe Theater. It was a famous playhouse built in the early 1900s. Across the way from the theater was a museum with a big sign that read, “UNDERSTANDING CANNIBALS.”

  No thanks, Steve thought with a shiver. The sign didn’t soothe the spooky feeling he got about being in the park so late.

  The group walked under an archway, crested a small hill, and came to the courtyard outside the Old Globe. A banner overhead told them they were running Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax and Shakespeare’s The Tempest.

  If I get the chance, I’d like to bring Annabel to one of those plays sometime. Maybe I can create some new memories of Balboa Park.

  They stood in the empty courtyard, looking at each other and their surroundings. Steve got the strange impression he was in some kind of medieval village play. The angry, pitchfork-wielding townsfolk should come careening out of the shadows any minute now. He figured the fog and the sign welcoming cannibals made him feel that way.

  “You made it,” a voice called from behind.

  Steve spun around, but the rest of the group stayed looking confused.

  Charlene walked up the same hill they’d traversed, her hands stuffed inside an oversized jacket. Her blue hair looked purple in the fog and moonlight.

  “Right on time,” Steve said.

  Charlene said, “Early, actually. But who’s counting.”

  When she stood in front of the group, Steve realized how young she really was. At least in this atmosphere, she looked like a high schooler.

  Who knew someone so young could have such powers? January had said a traumatic event awakened your powers. He wondered what kind of traumatic events this girl had been through.

  “Steve-o,” Dale said, staring at him strangely.

  “Yeah?” Steve asked.

  “Who . . . are you talking to?”

  Steve raised his eyebrows. He pointed at Charlene. “Her.”

  Dale shrugged. Aiden and Scarlet exchanged a glance.

  “What’s wrong?” Charlene asked.

  Steve put his hands on his hips. “They can’t . . . see you.”