by Cory Barclay
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
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Spirit Watcher (Mythbound, #3)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
About the Author
This book is dedicated to all my friends,
who keep me on the right path—
Individual names to follow!
Books by Cory Barclay
Of Witches and Werewolves Trilogy
Devil in the Countryside
In the Company of Wolves
The Beast Within
Mythbound Trilogy
The Myth Seeker
The Dream Leaper
The Spirit Watcher
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 Jaret
h’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?”
The frightened blackguard held his head in one hand and tried to recover his dignity. “The leaders of the Vagrant Kinship, my lord. Er, former leaders? The leader’s wife and murderer . . .”
“Geddon and Selestria?”
“Yes! Them!”
Malachite’s eyebrows jumped high on his forehead. His fury subsided in an instant, replaced with a cheeriness Lig had never seen before.
“We have them bound inside your carriage, my lord,” the blackguard said, bowing low. He was utterly pleased with himself to break the news to his Overseer. Lig wondered how many blackguards had fought over that privilege.
The Overseer clapped his hands once. “Excellent. Maybe this day can be salvaged after all.” He marched past the blackguard, past Lig and Fueda, and reached the stairs. Then he paused.
Everyone stared at his back, waiting to see what he’d do.
Finally, from over his shoulder, the Overseer spoke. “You’ll retrieve your respective children and bring them to the altar to be married. When that is done, we’ll see what those rebels have to say for themselves. Who knows, maybe with a little coaxing we can learn something about my son.”
He faced Constantin and Mariana Lee. Anger simmered on their faces. Malachite said, “And your son, too.”
ANNABEL COULDN’T BELIEVE it. She sat in Tiberius Reynolds’ bathroom, on the toilet, crying into her hands.
She’d seen Steve and Aiden disappear through that mirror, and she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t change it now. Her love was gone from her, again.
Why hadn’t she been able to travel through the Parallel Reflector? Was she cursed? She definitely felt damned. Or maybe it was because she was a Mythic and Steve was a human? No . . . Aiden had gone through also, and he was a freaking leprechaun.
She knew her life was out of her hands, out of her control. She should have never come back to this damned place. If only hindsight could change things.
She should have stayed on Terrus with Steve, tried to start a life there. Maybe she could have been happy. Happy like she’d been a century and a half ago, with Edgar. She rarely thought of Edgar these days, but for whatever reason, the dark poet came to her mind now.
Probably because this was the kind of thing he would write about. Girl escapes her undead parents, finds a man, and falls in love in another world. Then she’s forced to come back, gets trapped again, and can’t escape.
She felt imprisoned behind a wall. In the past, she’d been able to reach through, sometimes getting a glimpse of the light—of a better future. But now it was being paved over with cement, trapping her forever.
What was the name of that story Edgar told her about? It was so long ago. The Cask of an Armadillo? She couldn’t remember. Either way, the sentiment was the same: she was trapped for eternity.
She used to think Steve could somehow fix her—that he would come to her rescue like Prince Charming and whisk her away.
And he’d almost done it, too! He’d been so close to talking his way out of it!
What happened?
It was that weasel . . .
Not Overseer Malachite. No, it was Geddon. The person Steve trusted the most out of his friends! Annabe
l remembered when Aiden O’Shaunessy had backstabbed them, and how heartbreaking that had been.
What the hell was Steve doing showing up with that treacherous leprechaun, anyway?
She frowned. She figured she’d never get the chance to ask. Not now that her life was over.
But, no, Geddon had caused all the chaos. He’d turned the whole wedding upside down, just when it seemed Steve’s words would ring true and get through.
Annabel sniffled.
“Charles!” she cried to no one.
Had Steve been telling the truth about her brother? Or had it been a ruse to try to get the Reynoldses and her parents to fight against each other?
Annabel figured she’d never get a chance to find that out, either.
Someone knocked on the door.
Annabel said nothing. She looked up from her hands, tears drying on her cheeks, trying to will the door closed forever.
“It’s time,” said the voice of Tiberius Reynolds from the other side.
Oh, yeah. There was that, too.
She still had to get married.
But that wasn’t why she was crying.
That wasn’t why she was trapped, or why she was dejected and empty inside. That was an inconvenience, sure, but it wasn’t what changed everything.
No, what changed everything was the simple fact that, within the last few minutes, she’d felt her body change. Mythics like Annabel were attuned to nature more closely than humans were.
And less than five minutes ago, she realized she was pregnant.
CHAPTER TWO
ON TERRUS
The redheaded man at the bar was getting louder and more animated. He stood from his stool and pushed it out the way. He wasn’t very tall—barely at eye level with the brown-haired man next to him, who was sitting.
The two men were in a heated debate. They’d drawn the eyes of almost everyone in the bar. This was not by accident, which became apparent when the redheaded man glanced around to see who was watching. It was clear he wanted to make a scene, and in that he was doing well.
