Chapter 15

CHAPTER15

The pearl ring felt wrong on his finger.

Myth twisted it around over and over, using its soft light to read the book he’d taken from the library. It wasn’t as interesting as Callan’s book, but it was probably more helpful in terms of learning about magical items.

It was hard to read in places—harder to understand—but he got the gist of it: magical items could often be destroyed at their source. If Callan knew where the altar was, and he had the capability to destroy it…

Callan had been human once. He’d told Myth all of that, just by giving him one book. There was no reason for Myth to have that information, yet Callan had chosen to… to trust Myth with it.

Myth took in a deep breath, ignoring the stench of mold and decay in the room, and stared down at the book. Callan was powerful. Myth didn’t know why the shade had told him the things he had, unless it was to scare him—and it had done just that. Myth was terrified of Callan.

Terrified, and attracted to, and so needy for him, all at once, until it was some strange feeling balled up in his chest that he couldn’t unknot no matter how hard he tried.

And, beyond all that, was the desire to learn more about him. Did anyone else know this much about Callan?

Selfishly, Myth hoped not. He wanted to be the only one who knew Callan.

Realistically, Myth didn’t have many options. He could return home with his tail between his legs and ask Lore for help, but Lore didn’t know where the altar was, and trying to get Lore and Callan to work together? Hardly. That would’ve been laughable if it was in any way amusing.

It wasn’t.

He was on his own with this until Callan found him again, and this time… This time, Myth would take him up on the offer to help. He just didn’t know if he was making the right decision or not.

At the very least, he could trust that Callan’s self-interests aligned with Myth’s.

With a huff, he closed the book and flopped down onto his back on the bed.

Callan was a fucking demon who killed people and helped other people kill and rape and do all sorts of terrible things. That should have been an ‘end of story’ where he decided to use Callan for his help in destroying the amulet and been done with it.

Instead, it was only the start because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Callan out of his head.

Myth couldn’t keep him out of his pants, either.

Biting back a sigh of frustration, he slid his hand into his trousers, slowly stroking his semi-erect cock. It felt good, but there wasn’t the rush that came with being with Callan. Lore had accused him of being addicted to thrills, to the dangerous things that brought forth that exhilarating feeling.

His friend had obviously been correct.

He closed his eyes, pretending Callan was atop him. He put his free hand above his head, like it was being held in place, and he could’ve sworn he heard a soft chuckle in his ear. Gods, he was addicted to this, addicted to Callan, and that was…

Not something he wanted to think about right now.

His breathing started to come more quickly as he pinched the head of his cock, and he imagined there was a hand around his throat, too, squeezing and restricting his air flow.

Gods.

Tendrils of shadow would be everywhere, ghosting along his flesh, twining around his arms and keeping him down, along his legs.

Footsteps sounded outside of the room, and usually, Myth would’ve dismissed them as belonging to another patron of the dubious inn he was staying at. But these were heavy, and there was a clanking sound, and…

Oh, fuck.

He snatched his hand out of his pants, grabbed his pack, and ran for the window even as the pounding started on his door.

“He’s in here!” somebody shouted.

Myth had no time to think. He jumped out the window and onto the roof of the building next door. There was more yelling behind him as he dashed across the rooftop.

He wished he wasn’t in an unfamiliar city. At home, he knew all the alleys and side streets and exactly which ledges were secure and which were a surefire way to fall to his doom.

Myth was good at what he did, though. He’d had to think on the fly often enough. He jumped to the next roof and spotted a low chimney that he used to vault onto a higher rooftop. He kept running and jumping until he couldn’t hear the guards anymore.

Only then did he allow himself to take a small break, pressed flat against the roof behind another chimney.

The sun was beginning to rise, and the sky was taking on a beautiful purple hue. This part of the city was waking up, and the bustle was just the same as back home. Workers were getting ready to break their backs for richer men and women, hoping for something better yet never daring to do anything about it.

Fuck. This was not the time to get philosophical.

Once he caught his breath, Myth carefully rolled over so he could spy on the streets below.

He spotted a few carts that he might be able to hide in to get through the city, although it would depend on where exactly the carts were going. Maybe it would be safer to go through an open window and steal some clothes to disguise himself. He’d feel a little bad about stealing in this neighborhood, but one person missing a shirt was better than Myth missing his head.

Myth decided on the window with the pretty window flower beds. He’d seen two women leaving the building, and maintaining the small flower beds meant they must have had at least a little bit of money. Hopefully there was a man living in the house too, but Myth would disguise himself as a woman if it got him out of town unnoticed.

Unfortunately, just as he leapt over to the little balcony, somebody cried out, “There he is!”

Fuck.

He pushed aside the—thankfully—unlocked doors from the balcony into the home that lay beyond it, scanning the room. There wasn’t much, and he felt even guiltier because he knew the guards would be traipsing through everyone’s homes trying to find him, destroying what little these people had.

There was a window on the opposite side of the room, and Myth pushed aside the shutters so he could get out. He jumped and grabbed the edge of the neighboring roof, hauling himself up as quietly as he could.

His arms protested the entire way, but if he couldn’t pull himself up one measly roof, he would really be in trouble.

Myth stayed as low to the roof as he could. It would be nice if he were in the shadows, but the sun was rising and highlighting the roof perfectly. He couldn’t even get on the other side, because of the much taller building this one was attached to.

Never mind. Keep going; don’t stop to think. He just had to hide somewhere until the guards passed, and…

“Got you!” a guard shouted—far, far too close.

Myth looked over his shoulder and grimaced when he saw a guard climbing out of the window to land on the same roof.

Never mind hiding. Run, run, run.

Myth took off, jumping to another roof. The sound of the guard chasing him was loud, even with the bustle of the city.

A guard shouldn’t have been able to keep up with Myth, but Myth was starting to tire. He’d barely even slept the previous night.

Myth propelled himself off a gutter and managed to grab a rope suspended between two windows. The rough material burned his skin as he used his momentum to fling himself further, onto a balcony, and—

Okay, there were no buildings he could reach from here. Not on his own strength, anyway. But Lore had packed a few spells, including one that would allow him to leap a lot farther than usual.

Myth activated it and jumped, hoping to clear the distance all the way to the other side of the street.

“Oh no you don’t,” the guard behind him shouted.

A sudden gust of wind slammed into Myth, veering him off course. The leaping spell splintered apart.

Myth fell.

His eyes widened and he uselessly grasped at air, hoping to find something to grab onto. But there was nothing, and Myth loosened himself for the impact. A fall from five—maybe six—floors up might only snap a few ribs, if he was lucky, and didn’t tense too hard.

Or he’d break a leg, or snap his spine. Either way, he was going to be a sitting duck for the guards.

How the fuck did they keep finding him?

He landed hard—and sank into coldness. Myth gasped and opened his eyes.

“I thought you said you were a good thief,” Callan smirked down at him. “What an inconvenient time to be needing my help, too.”

Oh. He’d caught Myth.

They stood in the middle of the street, sun shining down on them, with Callan holding Myth like he was a new bride. The shadows extended out from behind Callan, and somehow they didn’t quite match what Myth knew they should have been.

“Sorry to inconvenience you,” Myth muttered. He glanced up to see the guard staring down at them and yelling to his friends, and he hopped down from Callan’s arms. “Time to run. You can take to the shadows if you want, but I can run.” Usually. But gods, he was tired.

“Are you sure? You look a bit out of breath. I could help.” Callan waved to the guard above them. “Mornings have quite long shadows.”

“You’re not strangling them with your shadows, or whatever it is you do for fun when you melt into a puddle,” Myth muttered, taking off down the street.

Callan barked a laugh. “A puddle? Please! I am not made of tar. That’s a very different kind of monster.” He followed along next to Myth, somehow always staying in a shadow. “There are at least two mages following you. They’re students from that university you stole the book from.”

“I didn’t even steal it! That was you!” Myth swore under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is all your fault!” Okay, it really wasn’t, considering Myth had made the conscious decision to steal the amulet before he’d ever even met Callan, but it was nice to have someone to blame all of this on. “Okay, um…”

He couldn’t run much longer, and the mages were another snag. Myth ducked into a nearby alleyway, hoping it wasn’t one of those random dead-end ones.

“This way? Really?” Callan said, following him into the shaded path. “It’s almost as filthy as the one I found you in that one time. Do you remember?”

“Shut up! I just need a place to hide. And if the stench keeps them out—” Myth swore and came to a stop.

A very tall iron fence stood between him and the other street.

“You can’t escape now!” another guard shouted from the front of the alley.

“Give me a boost,” Myth ordered, pointing up. “Get me over the fence.”

Callan followed his gaze. “That might not be a good idea.”

“It’s a better idea than getting caught!” Myth hissed. “Do you want me to get executed?”

“I already told you, I could simply swallow them up.” Callan went up to the fence and waved through the iron poles. “Good morning, Captain, ma’am!”

Myth’s eyes widened in horror as he realized more guards were on the other side. He was completely surrounded.

“I don’t want you to murder them!” he snapped at Callan. “Um, um….”

Callan leaned against the fence and pretended to buff his nails. “You could rifle through your bag and hope your friend packed you more spells. And would it change your mind to know that at least one of these guards has killed before?”

“No murder!” Myth shouted, right as two guards charged toward him with their spears. “Just get us out of here! In your shadows!”

Callan laughed and drew Myth into an embrace.

The guards gave surprised shouts as Myth and Callan sank into the darkness.

The cold hit Myth almost immediately. He clung to Callan as best he could, breathing in and out to calm himself and his stomach both.

When he dared to open his eyes, the pearl ring on his finger glowed steadily, a silent beacon in this unending, horrible dark.

It didn’t belong here.

Myth hated the ring, suddenly. It was trying to change this space, make it into something it was not. The light should have been beautiful, but all he could think of was how Callan had clung to the ring, how hard it had been for him to get rid of it—

Don’t get lost in the dark.

Myth closed his eyes again, and his next gasp was in real air again, guided by the faint warmth inside Callan’s chest.

“Fucking—” Callan cursed. He released Myth and stepped away. “This is about as far as I can go now.”

As far as he could go now? It was a strange way of putting it.

Myth breathed hard and blinked as he looked around, seeing the outskirts of the city a good distance away. It would have to be enough. “Then I guess you’d better start walking, oh great shade. You have an altar to lead us to.” He took a few steps forward, then paused. “Um. What direction is it in?”

Callan stared off into the distance. “That way. Only about a few days worth of travel.”

“That close?” Myth asked, a little surprised. He was expecting a grand journey, the way it usually happened in the adventure ballads.

“You’ve been walking toward it since you stole the amulet,” Callan said, already moving.

“Liberated,” Myth corrected him. “I didn’t steal it. I liberated it from a would-be conqueror.” He paused, though, as Callan’s words really sank in. “Wait. This whole time…” He frowned, then sighed. “Great. Well, I hope it doesn’t get mad when it realizes I’m taking it home to destroy it.”

“Why would it get mad? It’s just a trinket,” Callan said.

“Just a fucking trinket, my ass,” Myth griped, but he couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his lips. “All of this, over a necklace. All of this.” He spun in a circle, looking back at the city walls. “Gotta admit, that was sort of fun, though. It’s been a while since I’ve led anyone on a proper chase.”

Callan smiled back at him, running a hand through his beard. “The dash through the house was inspired. And you really did almost make that jump all the way across the street. Quite a shame that mage disrupted your spell.”

“It really was,” Myth said, bobbing his head in a nod. He paused, then considered Callan for a few seconds. “How long were you watching before you decided to join in, anyway?”

“You had your hand down your pants, and had to scramble out of there with your cock hanging out.” Callan made a crude gesture.

Myth wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or smack Callan in the arm. In the end, he did both. “It was not hanging out. And if you were there, you should’ve given me a hand.” Things might’ve gone differently, though. People might have died, like they had the last time Callan had gotten involved in a fight with guards.

“And rob you of the fun, the thrill?” Callan stepped closer and slung an arm over Myth’s shoulders. “I enjoyed watching you dance with danger, and I showed up right when you wanted me.”

“Technically, you showed up when I needed you, but you get those things confused all the time,” Myth retorted. “That fall would’ve been a real mess. I’d have been a goner for sure.” But he had to admit he was glad Callan hadn’t stepped in earlier. He hadn’t felt like that since… since he’d stolen the amulet in the first place.

Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

“You wanted to be rescued. Whether you needed it is beside the point.” Callan ruffled Myth’s hair in a strangely intimate gesture, and Myth found himself shivering, leaning into the touch despite himself. “Come along, pet. We have a long… ugh, sunny road to traverse. Wide open fields for at least another two miles. I think this used to be a lovely, shaded forest.”

“I’m still not actually your pet,” Myth protested half-heartedly. “And it’s a nice, pretty, sunny day. Just enjoy it. Isn’t that when we cast the longest shadows anyway?”

“The shadows are behind us, though.” Callan pointed to their shadows behind them. “I could travel in yours, but I assumed you wanted company.”

“I…” Myth let out an exaggerated sigh. “You are insufferable, you know that? But fine. Yes, I want company, even if it’s yours.”

It was going to be a long trip, but the idea that Callan would be traveling with him made it a little better.

It might even be fun.