by Cory Barclay
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 doing 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.
Constantin stopped mid-sentence. “How?”
“When Steve Remington and I ventured through the forest, we found Charles’ lover, master. She followed us. Her name is Fuscia.”
Constantin thought for a moment, hesitating. “You believe she would know where my boy is?”
“More than anyone else, master. If we can find her, that is.”
Annabel’s father made a quick and final decision. “Fine. That will be your task, Pua Kila. Do you believe you can find this wolf-woman for me?”
“The forest is the home of my people, my lord,” Pua Kila said. “If this sacred beast is in the forest, I will find her.”
“Excellent.”
But Pua Kila wasn’t done. “So long as you keep my people safe here, I will personally go find this woman.”
“By yourself?”
Pua Kila nodded. “And perhaps one other.”
“Very well. It is done,” Constantin said.
There was a lull in the conversation as everyone acknowledged their designated tasks. Then Pua Kila said, “My lord, if I may ask . . . why do you want your son’s body so earnestly? Will that not bring you more sorrow? For the forest dwellers, it is better to allow our bodies to become one with nature when we pass.”
“I want closure, woman,” Constantin said, his voice sharp. “I must prove my son is dead, even though I wish it weren’t the case. Then I can convince Overseer Malachite to annul the marriage between my daughter and Tiberius Reynolds. That is my true cause.”
“I see,” Pua Kila said, bowing. “If that is all, I will retire to my people.”
“Very well, madam. Please, ready yourself by the morning—I, er, won’t be there to see you off. I will have Lig join you, however.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Lig, show her out.”
Lig was pale from learning he would be accompanying Pua Kila into the woods, presumably to keep tabs on her. He left the library with Pua Kila in tow, then asked, “Wafer-man, are you still there?”
Steve was still in Lig’s mind, but he’d been reeling for the past two minutes. Lig, what on Earth is he talking bout, ‘Annul the marriage between my daughter and Tiberius Reynolds’?
“Ah, yes,” Lig said in a low voice, as if that might calm Steve’s spastic mind-talking. “Quite a lot has happened since you’ve been gone.”
Steve was about to ask “What?”
But he never got the chance. His mind pounded, thirsty for knowledge and relief, and he felt another wave of nausea pour over him. He groaned in Lig’s mind, then closed his mind’s eyes.
When he opened his eyes, he was back on the couch in Shannon Barton’s house. He was utterly confused as to what had happened, but he recalled the terrible news.
Perhaps Scarlet is right, he thought to himself. His head pounded and he curled himself into a sweaty, angry ball on the couch.
Perhaps Tiberius Reynolds has to die after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
It took hours for Steve to recover. His head pounded and screamed with fuzzy thoughts he couldn’t keep straight. Aiden left the room to get him some water. When the leprechaun returned from
the kitchen, Shannon Barton was standing over him.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked as he soaked her couch in pools of sweat. She put a hand to his head. “He doesn’t have a fever . . . how could he be sweating so much?”
Steve’s eyes bounced around under his lids. Aiden put the glass of water on the table, with a clank, and Steve’s eyes shot open. He lunged for the water and drank like a man possessed. Then he fell back into his stupor, resting his head against the arm of the couch and curling up like a baby.
“Don’t let it concern you, Miss Barton,” Aiden said politely. “Steve has otherworldly problems.”
Shannon scratched the back of her neck. “I guess so,” she muttered. She scanned the room and sighed when she laid eyes on Dale sleeping on the couch. The beer can was still perfectly balanced on his belly. “Leave it to my no-good boyfriend to pass out while his best friend is over here dying.”
“Mister Remington isn’t dying, Miss Barton,” Aiden said with a smile. “Are you, Steve?”
“Yes,” Steve said through clenched teeth.
Aiden frowned. “Yes?”
“I’m dying.”
Shannon gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
Aiden gently touched her shoulder. “He’s just being dramatic, ma’am. Aren’t you, Steve?”
“Yes.”
Shaking her head, Shannon said, “Well, it’s getting late. I suppose you all can sleep here tonight, but let’s not make this a regular thing, yes?”
Aiden bowed low. “Absolutely, ma’am. Thank you for your hospitality.” It was only about 6:00 p.m.—not very late—but Aiden wasn’t going to make a fuss over it. He said, “I will round these hooligans up and we will be out of your hair before you know it.”
“I’m sure,” Shannon said. She left the room, returning from whence she came.
“Aiden,” Steve said in a croaky voice.
The leprechaun took a seat on the table next to him. “Yes?”
“Tell me about Geddon. Take my mind off this fucking headache, I beg of you.”
“Very well. What would you like to know? You spent quite a bit of time with him, did you not? Perhaps you already know everything.”
