by Cory Barclay
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 to 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.”
“Oh,” Charlene said, chuckling. “Right. Well, I can see them, so that’s all that matters.”
“How, though? Scarlet could see you at the concert yesterday.”
“I severed my Bond on Terrus,” Charlene said. “I’m on Mythicus. I, too, have some business to take care of here. You must remember, us Myth Makers and Seekers can see everyone. But since the humans and Mythics aren’t on my plane, they can’t see me.”
“How does this work, then?”
“Easy. Tell them to stick out their hands. The chosen three, that is.”
Steve took a deep breath. He turned to his friends. “Are you guys ready?”
The group exchanged confused looks. Scarlet said, “Wait,” reached into her pocket, and handed Steve her car keys. “Don’t get my car towed.”
“Okay. Scarlet, Dale, Shepherd . . . stick out your hands,” Steve said.
They did as told.
Charlene reached into her jacket and pulled out three small objects. They were little Lego people, each with his own little hairdo. She reached out and placed a toy in each person’s hand, starting with Scarlet, then Dale, then Shepherd.
Scarlet seemed the least surprised when she felt the Lego in her hand. Her eyebrows hopped as Charlene came into view, then she nodded to the blue-haired girl.
Dale yelled, “Holy shit!” and jumped back three feet, dropping the Lego almost the instant it touched his hand.
“Don’t lose that,” Charlene said. “It’s your only way out of here.”
“W-Where . . . is here, exactly?” Dale asked.
Charlene smiled, the ring on her upper lip moving. “Welcome to Mythicus.” Her voice was hoarse. She also looked like she’d aged over the last twenty seconds. She no longer looked like a high schooler.
Dale’s mouth dropped open. Charlene handed the last toy to Shepherd, who wore a stern expression. Only Dale had given the immediate reaction Steve expected. It had been similar to his own reaction the first time he’d been Seared to Mythicus.
Steve said to his friends in Mythicus, “Remember where we’re meeting. Scarlet, you know where Aiden’s house is, right?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you there tomorrow, if all goes well.”
Steve nodded to her, turned to Charlene, and said, “Thank you so much for your help.”
Charlene was clearly weakened. She winced, closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “Don’t thank me. Thank Nersi. Without her, there’s no way in hell I would’ve done this.” Then she slowly ventured off down the hill, the way she’d come.
“Wait!” Steve cried. “What if my friends need to find you, to get back home?”
Charlene shrugged but didn’t stop walking. “I’ll find them when I’m ready.”
Aiden frowned and said, “Well, shit. I can’t see anyone anymore.”
Steve put an arm over Aiden’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ve got a plan for us.”
And then there were two.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Annabel watched her father’s face for a reaction. But there was only a cold, blank expression.
Along with Fuscia, Pua Kila, and Constantin, she stood over the excavated buri
al ground of her brother, Charles.
Within seconds, Constantin’s icy demeanor melted away.
“My son,” he said, his voice breaking. “How could they do such a thing to you?”
Annabel put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She saw more emotion from her father in that moment than she had in decades.
The cool cave should have preserved the body well. But the waterfall behind them eroded and decayed the body at an alarming rate. Charles’ skin was bloated and white. He did not seem at peace.
They had traveled through the night to reach the burial ground, Fuscia having led them. The wolf-woman was in human form, kneeling next to the hole, tears falling down her cheeks.
Constantin said, “It is done, then. The proof is in front of me. The Reynoldses took my son from me.”
Fuscia stood and turned to the vampire. “What will you do?”
“First, we must extricate my son’s body and bring him home for a proper—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Fuscia said.
Constantin clenched his jaw. “I know.” He separated himself from Annabel, having had enough warmth and attention to last until the next decade. He put his arms over his chest. “If we are to combat the Reynoldses, we will need allies. They are powerful.”
“Will you present Charles to the Council, Father?” Annabel asked.
“Yes. After my last conversation with Overseer Malachite, however, I don’t know how much good it will do. But I will try, my dear.”
Pua Kila, who had been silent until this point, joined the half-circle. “What allies do you seek?”
Constantin faced the Nawao queen. “Ones like you, Pua Kila. If you would join me . . .”
Pua Kila thought for a moment. As a way of answering, she told a story. “My husband, Ulu Koa, once told Steve Remington that to kill a sacred animal of the forest was to call upon the wrath of the forest itself.”
“I remember,” Annabel said. “I was there.”
“I am the forest, my lord,” Pua Kila continued. “These evil folk have done a terrible thing. They must pay for their actions.”
“Then that is a yes?” Constantin asked.
