by Cory Barclay
Steve’s eyes were still closed as he shook his head. “Tell me about him and Tetsuo. Or you and Tetsuo. I saw a picture of you two in your house.”
Aiden sighed and straightened his body. Crossing his arms, he said, “Ah. It’s true we three are closely linked. Were, anyway. Hmm, where to begin?”
“Start at the beginning.”
“I’d rather not. Let’s start in Terrus, where we are. What will you do after your bedtime story?”
“Hopefully feel better.”
“I doubt it.”
“Just go,” Steve said, unlatching his arms from his body for a split second so he could wave the leprechaun on.
“Tetsuo was a human.”
“I know that already. Start somewhere else.”
Aiden frowned and ignored him. “He was like you, Steve. He was a human Myth Seeker. He brought me to this shithole plane. At the time, Tetsuo was a successful art thief. Actually, we became thieves together. And it wasn’t only art we stole, but money from unsuspecting marks, too.” The leprechaun paused, as if deciding how much to tell. How much would Steve remember of this?
He hadn’t told this story in quite some time, and he felt Steve deserved to know what kind of people he was dealing with.
“And?” Steve asked, after Aiden had stayed quiet for a long moment.
“We became friends . . . or at least partners in crime. My brother, too, was a part of our little gang, sometimes. Then, one day, I had an epiphany. I made the mistake of telling Tetsuo.”
Another pause. More coaxing from Steve: “What did you tell him?”
“That I knew a way we could hide the paintings we’d been stealing—somewhere they’d never be found.”
“Mythicus.”
“Bingo. Tetsuo became enamored with this idea of a mythical, mystical realm. I told him I had a friend who could take us there. Enter Geddon. And enter the time everything started to go wrong.” Aiden clenched his jaw. “Once he was in Mythicus, with Geddon, Tetsuo was introduced to Selestria. As you know, Selestria is a beautiful nymph. I knew, back then, that Geddon was in love with her. They were seeing each other, in fact. But I didn’t know he still loved her after everything . . .”
The leprechaun cleared his throat. “Anyway, Tetsuo was Seared by Geddon. He used the stolen Portrait of a Lady as his Conveyor. Selestria immediately took a liking to him. He was different, I guess you could say. It attracted Selestria to him. They fell in love.”
“Much to the chagrin of Geddon,” Steve murmured.
“Yes, though I didn’t know he was so heartbroken at the time. And, mind you, I was still stuck on Terrus, Seared from Tetsuo. But he started to change. He got greedy about the art and involved himself in Mythicus politics. He joined the fledgling Vagrant Kinship and took on a leadership role. He refused to transport me back to Mythicus, probably fearing I’d take the paintings he’d stolen. But I didn’t give a shit about that. I only wanted to be back home.”
“What an asshole,” Steve said, opening his eyes. “He didn’t seem like that when I met him during his imprisonment.”
“This all happened quite a long time ago, Steve. Perhaps he was older and wiser when you saw him. Though this next part was more recent, and it might hit a little closer to home . . .”
“What?”
“When your father became Overseer Malachite and leader of the Brethren, Tetsuo came up with a scheme. I’m not sure how he knew who you were. He commanded me to bring Malachite’s human son to him. In return, he would bring me home and sever our Binding.”
“Why did he want me?” Steve asked.
“To use as a bargaining chip, of course. He figured with you as a hostage, he could force Malachite to do things—or not do things—such as staying away from the Kinship.”
Steve’s head was beginning to clear. He was part of the story now, interwoven in the very fabric of Aiden, Tetsuo, Geddon, and his father’s existence. He said, “That was when you met us at the cemetery and buried Dale alive.”
Aiden glanced at the snoring body of Dale, no less than five feet away. He put a finger over his lips. “Shh, I don’t want Miss Barton to hear you. Yes, my plan was to bring you to Tetsuo. However, shortly after Annabel’s . . . summoning . . . Tetsuo was captured by your father. My plan changed, and so too did Geddon’s.”
Steve mulled that over in his mind, trying to jump ahead in the story before he had all the pieces. Then he realized he did have all the pieces to the puzzle, but not in the right order. “Geddon . . . he attached himself to me to get me to Mythicus. He wanted to bring me to my father, to bargain me away for Tetsuo.”
“Or maybe it was Selestria’s idea,” Aiden said with a shrug. It became clear to Steve that Aiden had thought about this before, and had come to his own conclusions. “Either way,” Aiden continued, “Geddon’s other plans must have failed. His last resort was to use you for the exchange.”
“Why would Geddon want to return Tetsuo to power if he was angry about him stealing Selestria?”
Aiden frowned. “Your brain must still be murky. Clearly he didn’t want to return Tetsuo to power, you dolt. He killed him. Though I have a feeling it was at the behest of Selestria that he went through with all this in the first place. He would do anything for Selestria—and nymphs can be quite manipulative. It’s in their nature.”
Steve slowly sat up. His headache was subsiding. The sweat on his skin was almost completely dry, leaving him feeling dirty and spent. “So, I was first supposed to be a bargaining chip against my father, to keep him honest . . . to keep him away from the Kinship. Then, when shit hit the fan, I was to be a bargaining chip against my father, again, but to rescue Tetsuo. All so Geddon could kill Tetsuo and proclaim his love for Selestria once more. Do I have that right?”
“That’s the crux of it, yes.”
A long pause followed.
Steve stared Aiden dead in the eyes.
“You guys are fucked up.”
Another moment of silence.
Aiden chuckled, which quickly grew to a full-blown belly laugh. It was infectious, causing Steve to laugh also. Dale twitched awake at the sounds and looked around, dazed and confused. The can on his belly toppled over and dribbled drops of beer on his shirt. Only Shepherd remained asleep, snoring.
Aiden wiped tears from his eyes, still cackling, then his laughing died down. “And that’s the story of Geddon and Tetsuo,” he said, the last little giggles escaping him.
“And you and me,” Steve informed him.
The leprechaun pulled at his red beard. He shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. Aren’t we just one big, happy family?”
Steve rested his head against the arm of the couch. He looked much better. The laughing had brought some color back to his face. “Geddon and Selestria are captives, Aiden. Imprisoned by my father, I’m assuming.”
Aiden pursed his lips. “I was wondering why you wanted to know all that. Did you dream-leap to him?”
Steve shook his head. “He dream-leaped to me, actually. But I somehow pushed him out and went into his own mind, where I saw his jail cell. Then he flung me out and the strangest thing happened . . .”
As Steve trailed off, Aiden said, “You are getting much stronger, my friend. I’ve never heard of such a thing, bouncing to and from different places in Ethereus like that. Maybe we can find someone who can teach you what it all means.”
“That would be nice, but we don’t have that luxury. We don’t have the time.”
“Why is that?”
“I have a feeling my dad is getting ready to do something dangerous. The Parallel Reflector hasn’t worked in centuries, up until you and I went through it.”
Aiden crossed his arms over his chest and stood from the table. “Yes, I’m sure that frustrates him.”
“I’m thinking that might be why he has Geddon and Selestria imprisoned. Why would he keep them alive otherwise—his proclaimed enemies? He must think they know something about you and I—since we traveled together—that they kno
w how to get the mirror working again.”
“Your pa’s going to be sorely disappointed, if that’s the case. But what can we do to stop it? We have no idea how we made it work.”
Steve was back to the puzzle. He felt he had the pieces, but needed to rearrange them to see the big picture. Massaging his chin, he said, “Maybe it’s simpler than we think . . .”
Aiden stared at him, but Steve had gone quiet.
“There’s another thing I learned, which gives our quest a time limit,” Steve said, his voice going low.
Aiden raised his eyebrows.
“Tiberius and Annabel are getting married again. If they haven’t already.”
“Shit.”
“I know.”
“Not this again,” Aiden said with a heavy sigh.
“You know what I have to do, Aiden. We’ve seen how dangerous those two families are, the Lees and Reynoldses.”
“Have you ever thought that with their alliance, there might be less death and destruction surrounding them?”
Steve narrowed his eyes. “You know that’s not true. That’s not how power politics works.”
Aiden’s shoulders slumped, his chest deflating in exasperation. “I guess I’ll help you, mate.”
“How sweet of you.”
“I have an ulterior motive,” Aiden said. “Contrary to popular belief, I still don’t want to be on this shitty plane. I only jumped through the mirror with you because I didn’t want your dad to kill me. I didn’t think it would work.”
“Good reasons.”
Neither of them spoke for a long while. They stared at different spots on the wood flooring and thought about what they must do.
Dale yawned from the other couch and looked at them both. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You guys look like someone shit in your Cheerios.”
But Aiden and Steve weren’t laughing. They were both too caught up in their own minds, pondering their next play.
Steve wondered how he had jumped into Lig’s mind earlier. That was truly a unique and special development. It was akin to when he’d commanded a blackguard to kill a fellow blackguard. Maybe I am getting stronger. But what is my limit? What if I’m taking my dream-leaping too far, as Annabel warned, and I’m leading myself to the edge of a cliff I can’t come back from?
How far can I push this power before I get stuck there forever?
He was terrified of losing himself in Ethereus. It made his skin crawl, thinking about being in that synthetic place for eternity.
He shivered.
First things first, he thought. We need to figure out how to get back to Mythicus.
Steve snapped to attention as the front door of the house swung open.
Scarlet strode in, her face a mix of triumph and determination. When she knew she had everyone’s attention, she stopped in the center of the living room and crossed her arms.
“Wake up the derelict, boys,” she said, nudging her chin at the sleeping Shepherd. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Steve asked, groggily rising to his feet.
“I’m taking you all to a concert.”
“Ooh,” Dale quipped. “Can I bring Shannon? She loves live music.”
Steve ignored his friend. “What the hell are you talking about, Scarlet? We don’t have time to watch music.”
Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Steve. It’ll be worth your while. Trust me.”
CHAPTER SIX
The quartet left La Jolla at 6:30 p.m. They had an hour to get to the venue before the show started. Steve wondered what the hell Scarlet was thinking bringing them to a concert during such a time of crisis. He also knew the succubus wasn’t stupid. She must have some kind of plan.
Dale took Shannon’s car without telling her. He had a worried look on his face as he got in the front seat of the new Lexus ES sedan and adjusted the seat to fit his big frame. Steve sat shotgun, Shepherd took the back. Aiden went with Scarlet, who had her own car.
“Follow me,” Scarlet said as she raced across the street with Aiden in tow. She opened the driver’s door of her cherry-red Mustang and said to Dale across the way, “I drive like a mean bitch.”
“You are a mean bitch, my dear,” Aiden informed her as he got into the car. After receiving a scowl from the succubus, he added, “I mean that in the best possible way.”
Dale pressed a button on the dashboard and the Lexus came to life. The car barely had an engine at all. It sounded like a ceiling fan as they pulled away from the curb.
“Where are we going?” Shepherd asked from the back.
In unison, Dale and Steve shrugged.
“That’s promising,” Shepherd muttered.
As they drove down Pearl Street, heading toward the freeway, Steve pressed the touchscreen. He was brought to the infotainment center, which confused him. “How do I get the music to work in this thing?”
“No idea,” Dale said, keeping his eyes on the road. He swerved around a pokey-pokey driver and fought to keep up with Scarlet, who was indeed driving like a bat out of hell. Wherever they were heading, Steve thought they’d be there in less than fifteen minutes.
Steve gave up on the touchscreen. It prompted Shepherd to lunge from the backseat, over the center console, and smudge the screen with his filthy fingers. Within seconds, he had 101.5, San Diego’s Classic Rock, playing.
“How did you do that?” Steve asked.
“I have the magic touch,” Shepherd said, wiggling his fingers as he withdrew to the back. “The mythic touch, if you will. I’ve learned a few things since coming to Terrus. Learning how to use the radio is a staple of Terrusian assimilation.”
“Yeah, are you sure you’re not an alien, Steve-o?” Dale asked, smirking.
Steve wanted to slap the smile off Dale’s face. He said, “Just follow the crazy lady.”
“I’m trying.”
A few moments passed and the commercials on the radio station ended. A Green Day song started playing.
Steve frowned. “This isn’t classic rock.”
“The whole world’s going to shit and you’re worried about what defines classic rock?” Dale asked.
“Yes, because I have principles. It starts here, Fats, with them taking over our music.”
“Who’s ‘them’?” Shepherd asked.
“You’ll find out some day,” Steve said ominously.
They pulled onto the I-5 on-ramp behind Scarlet’s Mustang. A car had managed to squeeze between them, but Dale made sure to keep his eyes ahead. They headed south, toward SeaWorld, Old Town, and Downtown.
Steve wondered what kind of live music would be playing on a Sunday evening. It was the end of the weekend and people would be heading home to watch the news and get ready for their week ahead. Needless to say, the freeway was pretty free of cars.
Trying to shake off the icky feeling he got from listening to Green Day on a classic rock radio station, Steve looked around the car. The upholstery was real leather, the instrument panel and dashboard were plated in polished wood. He said, “Shannon’s got a pretty nice ride. What does she do?”
“She’s a waitress at Barona,” Dale said.
Steve raised his eyebrows.
“She got this car with the insurance payout from her last car. You might remember it, Steve-o.”
Right, Steve thought, the car that almost killed me and literally started my mythical journey. “I do,” he said in a low voice. He added, “Whatever happened with that? I thought she was looking at some charges.”
“They got dropped,” Dale said.
“How?”
Dale shrugged. “They didn’t find any wrongdoing. Since Tumbleweed didn’t really exist here, he had no background and no one came forward to file a wrongful death suit. She got lucky.”
“I’d say,” Steve said.
When Steve said no more, Dale glanced at him out the corner of his eye. “She’s been through a lot, too, man. She’s a nice girl and I don’t want you talking about her like
that.”
Steve felt himself tense up. “Like what? What’d I say?”
“It’s not what you said, Steve-o, it’s how you said it. ‘I’d say.’ All sarcastic and shit.”
Steve rolled his eyes and turned his head to look out the window. “I’m sorry if I offended your soft sensibilities, Fats. I meant no harm. Honestly.”
“Good.”
“How’d you two get together, anyway?”
“Why, because she’s outta my league?”
“Something like that.”
“I had help.”
“From a certain good-looking angel?”
Dale’s eyes widened. “How’d you know that?”
Steve shrugged. “A hunch.” Not really, considering I saw you and Michelangelo conversing in Shannon’s bedroom when I was spying on you. Dale didn’t need to know about that part—about the dream-leaping escapades into his mind. Steve had also seen Dale and Shannon getting quite intimate with each other . . .
Dale said, “Now I owe Michelangelo something, though.”
“What?”
Even in the dark, Steve could tell Dale was getting bashful and blushing. The big man said, “It’s not an it, per se. It’s more of a service.”
Steve raised one eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.
“He wants Shannon to pose nude for him so he can create a sculpture in her image.”
Steve threw his head back against the headrest. “Damn. That’s a bit . . . personal.”
“Yeah, I haven’t told her yet.”
“You’re gonna do it?” Steve asked.
Dale shrugged. He followed Scarlet’s Mustang to the far right lane and prepared to exit toward Downtown.
“I think I have to,” he said. “Otherwise, he might extinguish his spell or whatever. I can’t have that. Shannon’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Steve felt a mixture of happiness and sadness at his best friend’s admission. He was glad Dale was happy, after struggling for so long finding work and a purpose. But he was also sad he wasn’t part of Dale’s “the best thing that’s ever happened.” He felt guilty, knowing he was being ridiculous and expecting too much. For a time, he’d almost lost Dale completely—as a friend and a memory. He knew he should be happy with what he had at that very moment. If anything, Mythicus was proof that you never knew when it could all vanish—in a snap—forever.
