Chapter 9

CHAPTER9

With a little bit of magic to quicken his steps, Myth fled the street his mother lived on. She’d agreed to run as well, and he’d meet up with her as soon as he could—whenever that might be.

He would’ve felt a little relieved at the break between them, the fact that his mother would know visiting her would put them both in danger, if not for how fucking terrified he was.

Callan was a monster… a monster who wanted to make Myth his fucking pet.

No. That wasn’t going to happen. He was going to get Lore’s help to figure out how to defeat a being of shadow with tentacles that could choke and slice and… and do things he didn’t even understand.

He slowed down once he’d put hopefully enough distance between himself and Callan, though he still kept looking over his shoulder with the expectation that the mage-demon-thing would be following him. He wasn’t, unless he was lurking in the shadows cast by the trees, but Myth stuck to the light.

It didn’t feel like enough, not when he might potentially be being chased, but it was all he could do.

Not when Callan had done so much in the early light of day, casting his own shadows.

As he tried to catch his breath, he finally realized what he must look like. His arm was still bleeding, albeit sluggishly, and so was his bare chest. He hadn’t even bothered to put on any shoes, and now that the adrenaline had faded, he was painfully aware of the lack of boots to protect his feet.

Myth had nothing on him, except the fucking amulet that had gotten him into this mess to begin with.

He didn’t doubt that the shadow-creature would come after him again—and he forced himself to think that that was a bad thing, that Callan was something to be avoided, something to be fought—and he had to know what to do to defend himself.

Lore didn’t live too far away, and Myth had covered most of the distance in his adrenaline-fueled flight. He tried to make himself as small as he could, but he was mostly grateful for the early morning hour. He made his way to Lore’s small shop, but as soon as he reached the doorway, he froze.

The door was in splinters. It had been forced down, which made no sense because Lore always opened his door to potential customers—even if they came in the middle of the night and woke him.

Myth didn’t see anyone. He listened for a long moment, hearing nothing inside, and he carefully stepped over the remnants of the wooden door with his bare feet. “Lore?” he called out, not sure if he was more afraid of his friend being there or of him being gone. What if he’d been arrested for his association with Myth? “Lore, are you here?”

“In… in the back…” Lore called back, but his voice sounded weak.

Myth started walking through the shop. He grimaced when he saw all the destroyed merchandise—and winced when he stepped in what appeared to be a broken vial. Myth paid more attention to where he stepped after that, until he made it to the back room.

Lore was sitting at his desk, a poultice pressed against his jaw. His face was mottled in bruises, while his lip was split and bleeding.

“Lore!” Myth exclaimed, rushing over to him. The glass got more deeply embedded in his foot as he walked on it, but he was more worried about Lore. “What happened?” His stomach churned. He didn’t want to know the answer, because whatever it was… it was Myth’s fault. He knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

Ha. Shadow.

His thoughts were not pleasant to him.

Lore chuckled, but it turned into a pained groan. “Some… guards? I don’t know. They showed up, asking about you. Don’t worry, I didn’t mention anything.”

Myth cursed. “You should have. You should’ve sold me down the river instead of letting yourself get beaten like this.” Never mind that Myth would never do such a thing to Lore, and he knew that was mutual.

“Maybe if they hadn’t opened by destroying my shop,” Lore muttered. “Fuck. What did you get yourself into? This… this is about that stupid amulet, isn’t it?”

Myth looked down at his feet, guilt racing through him. “Yes,” he said quietly. “They went to my mother’s, too. We…” He didn’t know if he should tell Lore about what had happened with Callan. He’d wanted advice, but his friend was in no condition to be giving advice about anything. “If it wasn’t for that…” How did he refer to Callan? “…mage… you know, the one I told you about…” he hedged, feeling a strange desire to protect Callan even though he was utterly fucking terrified of him—or maybe he just wanted to protect Lore from Callan. “We would’ve been dead because Kiara attacked one of them while they had swords pointed at her.”

Lore looked at him with tired eyes. “Myth. What happened? Why does everybody want this thing?”

Myth squirmed, still not able to look up at Lore. “It’s… it’s bad news, Lore,” he said quietly. “I think King Eoghan wants to…”

“Wants to what? Just what the fuck did you steal from the royal vaults?” Lore sat up, wincing and folding his arm against his stomach. “Stop hedging around. I know you like being mysterious, but you’ve already dragged me into this.”

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, Myth finally looked up at his friend of so many years. “I’m…” No. It was more dangerous to tell Lore. He had to keep him in the dark about this. It wasn’t fair to give him that knowledge. “It’s…” He shook his head. “It’s just bad, okay? Bad people want it. Izar… He attacked me for not agreeing to sell it to him for a hundred and fifty gold. And…”

“And?” Lore prompted, glowering a bit. “I think I deserve to know, Myth. I’ve already lost half my livelihood over this damn amulet. They threatened to kill me.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Myth instantly promised, even though he had no idea how he was going to do that. “But it’s safer for you not to know. You shouldn’t know about any of this.”

Lore rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Sure. I’m only your best friend. I spend all my time worrying about you, wondering if you’re safe, but all you’ll give me is ‘just trust me’ before you fuck off to nowhere again.”

“I’m not—” Okay, that was exactly what he’d planned on doing, but it was for Lore’s own good. “I have knights after me. Mages. A shadow…” He hesitated. He was trying to protect Lore, but if he was going to get his help, he was going to have to tell him a little more. “A shadow… demon. You don’t need to be involved in any of that!”

“A shadow demon?” Lore hissed sharply. “You have a shade after you and you weren’t going to mention that? Those things are seriously bad news! Like… fuck you up forever, twist you around until you’re unrecognizable, make you disappear into the ether type of bad news.”

“But they have weaknesses, right?” Myth asked. “There’s something you can do to get rid of them? Or protect yourself against them? Now that you know, you can keep him from hurting you. But I don’t think he will.” He bit his bottom lip. No, it was far more likely that Callan would just keep hunting Myth—and that Myth would enjoy every second of it.

Lore stared at him incredulously. He set the poultice aside, revealing the even darker—and slightly bloody—spot on his jaw. “You don’t fight shades, Myth. They’re… they just prey on the weak-willed. People who want shit they shouldn’t want. The best defense is knowing how to say no.”

The accusation stabbed through Myth. He wasn’t… he wasn’t weak-willed. Just because the amulet’s magic was stronger than Myth didn’t make him weak. Just because he kept falling into bed with Callan, just because he still thought Callan was hot, just because he’d gotten a small thrill from the way Callan had completely subdued those guards…

Fuck. It was true. He didn’t know how to tell Callan no.

“It’s… complicated,” Myth mumbled, looking down at his own bloody arm, then at his chest. Both wounds had stopped bleeding, thankfully. “He saved me, back there.”

“He?” Lore made an exasperated sound. “Myth, please, please tell me you haven’t already been dealing with a shade. Every single account I’ve read about them is about shady deals that backfire on the human. Even if you get what you want, you end up so different from how you started that you don’t even know who you were.”

“I haven’t ended up different so far, and I’ve already met him like… three times!” Myth protested, feeling wildly defensive for reasons he didn’t even understand. “He just wants the amulet, but he can’t have it, because it’s bound to me. And I’m not going to give it to him. He told me he’d give me anything I wanted for it, but I couldn’t even if I wanted to—and I don’t want to! Especially now that I know what he is!”

“Do you hear yourself?” Lore asked, getting up and taking a stumbling step toward Myth. “Let me help you. We’ll get rid of the amulet together. I can deal with whatever magic the amulet has, and you can help us remain undetected. Then there won’t be an issue. We’ll avoid the guards and any other mages after you, and you definitely won’t ever have to see that shade ever again.”

But Myth didn’t want to never see Callan again.

His heart pounded, and there was still that undercurrent of fear… but even when he’d fled, he’d kind of counted on Callan appearing again out of nowhere and dragging Myth back to him.

If he was going to be dealing with Callan again—because it was inevitable, because Callan wanted this amulet, because Myth couldn’t stay away—then he refused to drag Lore down with him.

“Cal— The shade knows how to remove the enchantment,” Myth said quickly. Maybe Callan hadn’t quite worded it like that, but that was the implication, right? “He can help me be free of it. And as a bonus, he’s pretty good at keeping royal guards at bay.”

Just as long as Myth didn’t think about what, exactly, Callan had done to those guards. He shivered at the memory, unsure of whether the decisive destruction had been too terrifying to excuse or…

Interesting.

Mostly interesting.

And appealing.

And—

“You can’t trust a shade!” Lore shouted. He grabbed Myth’s shoulders and shook him. “He shows up, right when you happened to have this stupid amulet? He doesn’t want to help you, Myth. He wants to trick you. Please. You aren’t this stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Myth snapped at him, a little hurt by his friend’s words. “You don’t know him.” Callan was charming, and intelligent, and… And maybe he had Myth by the balls, just a little. “He said I can’t destroy it. You and I couldn’t even figure it out. What makes you think you can destroy it?”

“I can’t destroy it. Not right now. But we’ll go to the library in Bresson, call on a few friends of mine there. One of them is sure to know how to dismantle whatever spell is binding you to the amulet.” Lore’s expression softened. “Please, Myth. I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want you to die.”

Myth couldn’t bring himself to look at Lore. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I can’t bring any more of this on you. You’ve already gotten injured because of me. I can’t… I can’t take you along and see you get hurt even more. I have to figure this out on my own.”

“Why is it okay for you to protect me, but I’m not allowed to protect you?” Lore asked quietly. He let go of Myth and turned away. “Fuck. You’re the worst.”

The words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did, but hearing his childhood friend saying he was the worst…

“Lore…” Myth protested. “Please don’t…” He had to swallow against the lump in his throat, unable to form any more words.

“Whatever.” Lore stumbled over to a chest by the wall and opened it. “At least take some spells. And clothes. Since you won’t let me actually help you.”

“It’s not like that,” Myth said. But those words stung.

You’re the worst.

Lore was his only friend, the only person he had who wasn’t trying to use him. Even his own mother just wanted to use him. Callan… Callan had offered so much pleasure, but he’d been using Myth too.

Maybe that was just how it was supposed to be. Maybe he wasn’t meant to have a good friend like Lore.

Myth wiped his eyes, ignoring the pain in his arm, and went to join Lore by the chest. Lore silently handed him a shirt and a pair of boots. Myth had to sit down to pull out the shards of glass in his foot before he could get the boots on.

Once Myth was dressed, Lore passed a small satchel over.

“An emergency kit I put together,” Lore explained, not meeting Myth’s eyes. “Spells to help you in a bind. Most of the usual stuff. And some healing herbs too.” After a deep breath, he added, “Here, let me tend to your wounds.”

It was as much of an apology as Myth was likely to get out of Lore, and it felt more like pity. But Myth sat quietly while Lore cleaned the cuts on his arm and chest and treated them with his salves.

When he was done, Lore gripped Myth’s shoulders and stared him in the eyes. “Please be careful. As much as you care about me, Myth… I care about you too.”

A pang in his chest told him that refusing to take his best friend’s help was a bad idea, but he couldn’t put Lore in any more danger. The guards had already gone through Lore’s place. They wouldn’t do it again unless they found out Myth had been there. If Lore left to go with him… No. He couldn’t risk it. They’d destroy everything Lore had worked so hard to build.

Especially since there was Callan to take into account. Myth could fight off one shade demon, right?

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Please take care of yourself, Lore.”

He hated that it sounded like a goodbye.

Without another word, he walked out the door again, limping. He’d gotten the glass out of his foot, but he sort of felt like he deserved the pain.

He stayed in the shadows, avoiding the main roads, as he headed toward the western entrance to town.

Off to Bresson.

He didn’t want to talk to any more sorcerers. But a university library, for the college of mages, sounded like a promising start.