by Cory Barclay
Aiden was at the center of the conflict, yelling with his arms raised.
Steve said over his shoulder, “Maybe we’ll talk about this when we see you tomorrow, Charlene. Thank you for your help.” Then he and Scarlet bolted out of the room.
How have the bouncers not seen this fracas taking place?
Steve squeezed through the tightly packed quarters and came to where the pushing and shoving was happening. Aiden was shouting incoherently, his voice drowned by the loud, sweet sound of Nersi’s guitar and voice.
But heads were turning. The audience was annoyed an angry little leprechaun was disrupting their pleasant time.
The man Aiden yelled at stood two heads taller than him. Dale and Shepherd stood behind Aiden. They seemed uninterested in the confrontation, their focus honed in on Nersi.
Steve thought back to when he’d first met Aiden, at The Shack in La Jolla, where Aiden had gotten thrown down the stairs. Can this guy go anywhere without getting into a fight? Maybe he can’t handle his booze—he is a little guy. But he’s fucking Irish!
Steve was about to ask what the problem was. Then, from the stage, Scarlet received a frown from Nersi—the universal sign that This Is Not Okay, and Shut That Guy Up.
So, Steve made a decision. He didn’t feel like trying to deescalate the situation. He took a step forward and punched Aiden in the chest. The shocked leprechaun immediately doubled over and gasped for breath as he took a knee.
Even the stranger who had been yelling at Aiden was caught by surprise at Steve’s sudden outburst.
Aiden’s face was a mixture of confusion and anger. He looked up at Steve as he struggled to regain his breath. His face said perfectly what his words couldn’t: “Et tu, Brute? Even you would betray me?”
Steve leaned forward and said in his ear, “That’s for letting Shepherd slug me in the bar earlier.” He thrust his finger at Aiden, viciously poking him in the shoulder. “You got it?” he yelled, trying to play his part. He turned to the big man who had confronted Aiden in the first place. “He won’t bother you anymore. Sorry.”
“Yeah . . . thanks,” the guy muttered, then turned back to the music.
One of the bouncers had shoved his way into the melee and stood behind Steve. It was Scarlet’s friend. He glanced at Scarlet and said, “What the hell, Scar, your friends can’t be starting—”
“It’s no problem, Billy, we were just leaving,” she interrupted. “Weren’t we, gentlemen?”
Steve and Aiden both nodded.
Scarlet eyed Dale and waved his hand at Aiden. “Pick that up.”
Dale hoisted Aiden up like he was a pillow.
“Hey, what the fuck!” Aiden screeched, bringing his fists down on Dale’s substantial back like an irate todler.
The bouncer made a pathway for the quartet. They left the Casbah, with Aiden again being escorted out because he couldn’t get along with people.
IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT. The group had settled back at Shannon’s place.
They went into the living room and took their respective spots. Aiden and Shepherd took separate couches, Dale had his loveseat, and Scarlet stood. This time, Steve also stood.
Dale placed on the table the new twelve pack of Tecates they’d gotten on the way home. He broke open the box and divvied out beers, and déjà vu played in Steve’s mind.
Steve decided to take the reins of the decision-making process. He was most familiar with Mythicus politics—at least recent Mythicus politics. Also, Aiden was too drunk to be much help. He’d had his weight in booze during the short time Steve and Scarlet spent talking to Nersi and Charlene. The shenanigans had erupted over Aiden trying to hit on the big dude’s girlfriend. Steve wasn’t surprised at all.
Steve looked at the faces of his drunk compatriots. Besides him, only Scarlet seemed completely sober, though she wasn’t. The least drunk was a better estimation.
Steve began his speech, which he’d been preparing during the ride back home. “Aiden, Shepherd, Scarlet, you three will go with Charlene, if you choose to accept this mission. I can’t guarantee your safety or promise anything, only that your support is apprec—”
“Shut up, Steve,” Scarlet interjected. “You’re talking to three Mythics. We all know the dangers of our homeland.”
Steve frowned. “You’ll do it then? And be Bound to that girl?”
Aiden and Shepherd shrugged noncommittally. Shepherd wobbled in place, Aiden rested his head on the arm of the couch. Steve got the impression this important talk might be better saved for tomorrow. But, he also knew, if he could get them to say yes now, it would be harder for them to renege in the morning.
It was a little bit of trickery, but he knew the liquid courage might help his cause. Tomorrow, the hangovers might hurt it.
“She’s right, asshole,” Aiden muttered. “I knows Mythicus like the back of me knee.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. He didn’t bother correcting Aiden on his flubbed phrase. He got the point.
“And what about you?” Scarlet asked Steve.
“I have an idea I’ve been cooking.”
“Care to tell us what’s in the oven?”
Steve hesitated. Then, he said, “I’m the only one who got the Parallel Reflector to work, right?”
“Do you know how?” Scarlet asked.
“Well, no . . .”
“Then what makes you think you can get it to work again?”
“That’s where my idea comes in,” Steve said, a bit annoyed at having to explain himself. He decided he didn’t want to. The less people knew what he was thinking, the better. Even though he trusted Scarlet, he’d also trusted Aiden and Geddon, in the past. They’d both betrayed him, in their own ways, so he was going to keep this one close to the chest.
Plus, he didn’t know if his plan would work. He didn’t want to look like a fool if he failed.
“I’ll get it to work,” he finally said, flapping his hand at Scarlet. “Have faith.”
The succubus rolled her eyes.
Steve cleared his throat. “Now that we have that out of the way—”
“What about me?” Dale asked from the couch. He was already on his second beer from the twelve pack. The first one lay crumpled on the table alongside the beers from earlier that day.
“What about you?” Steve said, slightly taken aback.
“How am I going to get there?”
Furrowing his brow, Steve said, “Fats, you’re . . . not.”
That was clearly not the right thing to say to an inebriated giant. But instead of getting livid like Aiden might have, Dale simply looked crestfallen. It made Steve sad.
Making his lips into a thin line, Dale said, “W-What? Who says?”
Steve ran a hand through his hair. How do I explain this without making the big softy suicidal?
“Dale, you, er . . . you aren’t connected to this, man. You don’t have any skin in the game.”
“Bullshit.”
Steve drew his eyebrows together and turned. “Aiden, why are you going back to Mythicus?”
The drunk leprechaun’s eyes were closed, but he raised a finger. “It’s me home.” He raised a second finger. “You’re gonna need a bloke to bankroll your endeavors.” He raised a third finger. “Revenge, for Tetsuo.”
Steve nodded. He’d never considered Aiden would bankroll their operation, but he appreciated hearing it. He hoped Aiden remembered that in the morning.
“And you, Shepherd?”
“Revenge, for my brother.”
“Scarlet?” Steve asked.
“Revenge, for my mother.”
Steve threw his hands out wide. “See what I mean? I’m going to stop my megalomaniac father from starting a war he’d possibly never be able to stop, and to save the girl I love.”
Dale squinted, as if trying to understand the words coming out of Steve’s mouth.
Steve continued. “And you, Fats . . . you already have the girl you love. Here. On Earth. On Terrus.”
The room
fell quiet.
Then Dale slurped his beer and broke the silence. “Nope.”
Steve tilted his head. “Nope?”
“I care about Bel, too, Steve-o. And you forget, if your dad starts a war, where will the battleground be?” Dale waited a moment before continuing. “The battle will be here, on Earth. So, in a way, me going with you to the fairy land will be my way of saving the planet. I’ll be like Captain America.”
Scarlet scoffed. “More like The Thing.”
Dale narrowed his eyes on the succubus. He said, “You get my point.”
Steve hadn’t thought of it like that. In a way, Dale made sense. “But what about Shannon? I thought things were starting to go good between you two.”
“Too good,” Dale said, shaking his head. “Too . . . routine. We could use a break.”
“Does she think that?” Scarlet asked.
“I’ll make her understand. You let me worry about that.”
Steve was nodding. It would be nice to have his company over there. I mean, I get along with him better than I do with any of these Mythics. Aiden is conniving, Scarlet is kind of a bitch, and Shepherd I hardly even know. It would be nice to have a human by my side.
Something else came to his mind. He was reluctant to say it, because he’d convinced himself that Dale tagging along would be a good idea. But, for his friend’s sake, he felt obligated.
“Dale, remember what we were talking about in the car, on the way to the Casbah?”
Dale leaned back in the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “Not really.”
“About Michelangelo . . . helping you and Shannon.” He was trying to be delicate, since there were people around who didn’t know Dale and Shannon’s situation.
That didn’t get the response he was hoping for, either. Dale shook his head and squinted, studying Steve. “You make it sound like he gave me Viagra or something, Steve-o. I promise you, my dick worked just fine long before Michelangelo showed up.”
“Ugh,” Steve said, shaking his head. Fine. “Michelangelo brought you two together and your relationship is bound by him.”
“So what?”
Dale was good and truly drunk.
“What if Searing to Mythicus breaks that bind? What if, when you return back here, Shannon doesn’t know you? You already told me you feared that might happen.”
Dale’s mouth dropped open as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. His brain wasn’t working too quickly. He gulped and said, with little conviction, “If that happens, I’ll just have to woo her all over again.”
Steve wasn’t convinced, but his job was done. He’d tried to talk Dale out of going.
He gave up. “Fine, you stubborn oaf. You can come.”
Dale’s face lit up. He looked like a kid in a candy shop—albeit a very drunk kid in a candy shop.
“That makes all five of us,” Aiden said.
Steve rethought his position. Now that Dale was coming along, things might not work the same. He looked at Aiden. “Change of plans. You’re coming with me, since we’ve already gone through the Parallel Reflector together. Maybe we can do it again. Dale, you go with Scarlet and Shepherd to get Seared by Charlene. Deal?”
Everyone nodded. Everyone also looked very sleepy.
“Good. I’m going to get some shuteye. We’ll reconvene in the morning.” Steve realized he wasn’t in his own house, so he simply sat down against a wall. He thought about Mythicus and the Parallel Reflector as he dozed off.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Steve realized he was a fly on the wall. Not literally, though that wouldn’t have shocked him too much. It wasn’t by accident, either. He’d gone to sleep at Shannon’s house thinking about Mythicus and the Parallel Reflector. In the past, when he’d held a gold coin belonging to Aiden before he slept, he’d dream-leaped to Aiden’s house.
He was gaining control of his power. Part of that was bridging the gap between Terrus and Mythicus and Ethereus. He believed by focusing on a destination in Ethereus, he could leap their easier.
It seemed to work.
After the initial grogginess of dream-leaping wore off, he found he was in the dark, cold jail cell where he’d seen Geddon and Selestria earlier. Neither of them were in the cell this time.
The iron door that had kept them imprisoned was ajar.
He inhaled sharply to prepare himself, then walked out of the cell.
Immediately upon exiting, he looked to his left and right. Blackguards stood at attention, facing outward. They stood as still as British Queen’s Guards, but instead of the black, fuzzy hats, they wore black, steel helmets. Neither of them noticed Steve, of course, because he wasn’t on the same plane as them. They were in Mythicus, where he hoped to find Geddon and Selestria, while he was in Ethereus.
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.
“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.
