Mistwalker Read online

  Mistwalker

  K. W. Quinn

  Copyright © 2020 by K. W. Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Monica Haynes, www.TheThatchery.com

  Editing by Rooted in Writing, www.RootedInWriting.com

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7345450-0-5

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-7345450-1-2

  www.KWQuinnBooks.com

  For Sarah and the boys

  Contents

  Deal

  Soul

  Dome

  Fight

  Victory

  Punishment

  Escape

  Run

  Supplies

  Witches

  History

  Favor

  Dying

  Dragon

  Rebirth

  Dungeon

  Contract

  Capricorn

  Business

  Lost

  Coincidence

  Sundae

  Bonfire

  Trails

  Equinox

  Lift

  Rebels

  Hope

  Collaboration

  Beach

  Sneak

  Rehearsal

  Watching

  Caught

  Learning

  Busk

  Mountain

  Street

  Four

  Targeted

  Practices

  Lingering

  Show

  Dreams

  Return

  Marvelous

  Together

  Tutor

  Musings

  Fever

  Struggle

  Wet

  Accept

  Reveal

  Truth

  Sacrifice

  Sparks

  Soulmates

  Bests

  Mother

  Weird

  Relics

  Power

  Strategy

  Dragons

  News

  Fly

  Negotiate

  Breaking

  Torn

  Balance

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Deal

  The muse’s shop was tucked between a pawnshop and a laundromat. Muses were practically legends, and everyone knew about one from a friend of their cousin’s ex-girlfriend or whatever, but Cass’s friend’s ex-girlfriend’s cousin was a legit dryad and knew things.

  Only idiots and assholes disregarded advice from real Fae.

  Which made Cass both an idiot and an asshole, since the dryad’s advice had been to stay away from any muse, especially Min. Only the desperate looked for a muse.

  Cass was certainly desperate now. Achingly desperate. Stupid, panicky desperate. Knowing where to find a muse was supposed to be a little knowledge tucked away for a rainy day. It wasn’t raining, but he was here anyway. He looked for the crossed-out cloud sticker that would have kept him from entering and gave a tight smile upon finding it absent.

  The bell above the muse’s shop door sounded like a duck trapped inside a flute. Not welcoming at all, but the inside of the shop was clean and thankfully empty of the Earth First slogans that had been cropping up around town. Cass didn’t need any more complications.

  He needed inspiration. So he was ready to deal with a muse, which was complicated enough.

  He stared at the bright walls of shelves. CDs, tapes, records, and older stuff, like antique fluted funnels old enough to be relics. Nothing was disorganized or dusty, but it all looked well used. A smooth glass display case took up the whole back wall. It was like a strange music junkie’s museum. Where was the mystical stuff?

  Cass stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked to the display counter, trying not to drag his best sneakers across the floor. He was too tired to think straight, but shouldn’t there be a “ring for service” bell or something to summon the owner? All he found was smooth, unsmeared glass reflecting hanging lamps.

  He needed a shower, a snack, and a nap, but there wasn’t time for any of that. Cass scrunched his nose as he caught a whiff of his bitter, nervous sweat. He leaned against the counter.

  “As nice as your ass is, it doesn’t belong in my collection.”

  Cass craned his neck to watch a man roll into the space behind the counter. He pushed his best smile up onto his face and kept his eyes on the man, not the wheelchair. They eyeballed each other for a long moment before the man spoke again.

  “Wanna cut to the chase, pretty boy?” His voice was lazy and rough.

  Cass blinked and tried to remember the words he’d recited on the walk over. A very nice, impassioned speech about need and duty. Something about love. And justice. The words weren’t there anymore, so he opened his mouth and let whatever he could find fall out.

  “Are you Min?”

  “Who’s askin’?” the man replied. He crossed his arms and pulled his pale face into a pout. Brown curls escaped the dark wool cap crammed on his head, haphazardly dangling into brown eyes. He looked cool. Youthful but over it all. No creases or wrinkles lined his angular face.

  “I’m looking for the muse,” Cass said. He tried to remember all the rules for dealing with Fae, but he was stuck trying to make his thoughts line up through the fog of sleep deprivation.

  “Great, but I don’t deal with nameless kids that wander in off the street. So let’s have the introductions done proper and get the ash on with it. There’s an art to these things, and the rules have a place in all rituals.”

  “Of course. My name.” Cass paused.

  “Relax, kid. I’m not gonna trap you like some kind of pixie. As a show of goodwill, I’ll go first.” The man coughed. “I’m Minos, the muse.” He flourished his hands a little and flashed a toothy smile. “No one has called me that for more centuries than I wanna remember, so you can call me Min.”

  “I’m Cass.”

  “Now, lemme get some music going, and you can tell me your little sob story.”

  Min pulled on the lowest shelf, and it slid into the wall as the upper shelves rotated down. Staring at Cass shamelessly, he flipped through the CDs and waved one at Cass. “This is a classic. Haven’t listened to it in a while. It’s better on rainy days or by the ocean. Water music for sure.”

  Sluggish and confused, Cass nodded.

  “Now sit.” Min jerked his chin.

  Cass turned. Where there had been only shelves and space before, a stool now rested near his fingertips. Had the muse just conjured that? No way. That was complex magic, and the muse hadn’t even blinked. Cass must be more exhausted than he realized. He pulled the stool closer and tried to arrange his gangly legs comfortably.

  Min lifted a hand. Cass took a deep breath, then said, “So, I need to save my best friend.” It sounded so simple like that. Clear. Possible.

  Min was unmoved, not so much as an eyebrow twitching on his ageless face. “From what, exactly?”

  “Kinda from everything.” Cass licked his lips and lifted his shoulders. Where was Andy now? Was he safe? Scared? There was too much to explain, and he just wanted to get some answers. And some help. And maybe sleep.

  “Yeah, yeah, kid. Inspiration sounds amorphous and vague, but premium inspiration is specific and tailored to your needs. So, gimm
e the ‘everything’ and whatever,” Min said, absently tapping his long fingers along with the music.

  Cass shook his hair out of his eyes. “Just the basics, dude? Sir.”

  Min snorted. “Start there. When I need more, I’ll let you know.” The air in the shop seemed to move with the music.

  “Right. Sure. So, um, my friend Andy. Well, Andy’s dad, actually. Andy’s dad has some gambling debt. A lot of it. And he sold Andy.” Cass swallowed and sucked a breath in through his nose. There weren’t enough profanities in the world for this conversation, but he was begging for help and needed to be polite.

  “Bonded?”

  Cass nodded. “Not regular Municipal Bonded, though. There’s a fight, and they’re pitting Andy against the champion, and it’s gonna be murder. Actual murder. Or manslaughter, but still. Death.”

  “Those fights are ugly.” Min’s face was unreadable. Was he excited or disgusted by the violence? Cass needed Min on his side.

  “Please. Andy’s gonna die if I don’t do something. And I can’t let that happen. He didn’t do anything. It’s not fair.”

  “Neither is life, kid.”

  “Look, I know about the unfairness of life,” Cass spat. No, he needed to use manners. Manners worked with Fae. Anger didn’t. “I’ve got to do something. Andy’s the whole reason I can stand this town at all. He deserves better than this.”

  Cass clenched his jaw. Andy deserved so much more than the pile of bloody ash life had thrown at him, and Cass had never been able to make it right. But now?

  “I’m gonna give him the best help I can. And that’s you.” Cass faked a smile, hoping the flattery would hit home.

  “Why would they kill him, though? Don’t collectors usually make a habit out of not killing people, seeing as how dead people can’t pay their debts?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they do. But there’s also the ‘don’t skip out on your debts, or you’ll pay more than you can imagine’ kind of thing. Andy didn’t do anything wrong except having been born to a lying, gambling jerk.”

  “Ash luck for sure,” Min said.

  “Andy probably thinks this fight is just like initiation hazing, but I saw the look on the witch’s face. Someone, somewhere, has to pay the price and make an example, right? Here, the example is ‘give us our money, or we’ll kill your offspring horribly and for sport.’”

  “Surprisingly intuitive, kid.” Min rubbed his unlined forehead and rolled his wheelchair through the counter. Not around it but through it. Cass squinted to see where the magic shimmered.

  “You’ll give yourself a headache before you figure it out. Everything is Spelled.” Min waved a hand lazily around the shop.

  So, the mystical stuff was the music stuff. For a muse, that made some kind of sense.

  “It’s a favor from some witches out in Goleta,” Min continued. “Makes getting around in this thing easier, and having a witch or two on your side is a superb idea. Can’t recommend it enough, really.”

  Min shoved a shelf down and pulled a spiral of wires into his lap.

  “What I don’t recommend is anything involving the Conglomerate. Blood and ash, kid, you’re not leaving me a whole lot of wiggle room here.” Min shook his head.

  Cass stared at him blankly, feeling guilty and not understanding why. He opened his mouth to protest, but Min cut him off.

  “What you want is doable, but the cost is . . .” He scratched his ear. “It’s high. There has to be a certain amount of suffering to keep the world running. It’s a bloody ash deal, but it’s the way it is. Cosmic balance. Anyway, life for a life.”

  Cass stared, face blank. The words had poured out of the muse, casual and cruel. Cass wasn’t sure what he’d expected to pay. He didn’t have much anyway, but his life?

  “You’re gonna kill me?”

  As the words spilled out of his mouth, Cass realized that he couldn’t imagine a world without Andy. And everything had some sort of loophole. Maybe. None of this felt real anyway. A waking nightmare. It was easy to agree with a nightmare.

  “Blood and ash, no.” Min shuddered. “Not like that. Not here. And I’m gonna take that as agreement, so let me think.” Min pulled his beanie off and scrubbed his scalp for a second before jamming it back on his head.

  “Look, this kid is fighting at the Earth Dome? That monthly gig with the big party?” Min adjusted himself in his chair, pushing himself up to sit taller. He watched Cass with narrowed eyes.

  “Yeah. So, can you help me save Andy or not?” Cass crossed his arms, shifting his weight. The stool was hard beneath him. His choices were harder.

  “Calm down, kid. I’m thinking.” Min rolled back a few inches and tugged on his pants.

  “Not a good neighborhood but a good family.” It wasn’t a question this time. “You had support, but he didn’t, so you gave him yours.”

  Cass nodded. “We’ve known each other our whole lives. Our moms are best friends, so we didn’t have a choice.”

  “Why isn’t his mom here, then? Or yours? Why is this your job, kid?”

  “Because we’re not kids, actually. Sure, we’re young on an immortal scale, but for Elementals, we’re considered adults.” Cass sat taller, too, trying to look confident and capable, like an adult. His boyish charm wasn’t doing him any favors here.

  “His mom sided with the gambler.”

  Cass’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue with the flat and final tone of Min’s voice.

  Min sighed. “You know, cosmic balance is a real ashen mess. I try to spread things around as much as possible, but damn.”

  “The suffering?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. No, the happiness. But I guess, yeah, the suffering too. Even good people find themselves in bad situations. Sometimes there’s an idea that’ll get them out of more than just a rough patch. Move them into a better life. They ask for so little. It’s easy to give just a bit more.” Min pushed himself forward. “Gimme your hand.”

  “Will this hurt?” Cass lifted his arm slowly.

  “This? No. This is nothing. Hold still.” Min threaded his fingers with Cass’s.

  Cass waited for a rush of electricity or a chill to run through his blood. A flush of heat. He waited to feel magic in or around him. He wasn’t sure how Fae magic worked.

  He listened to the soft, swelling music, instruments blending and bleeding together. He waited to feel something. Anything.

  Min pulled his hand away and sighed. “Well. Good news and other news. Which do you want first?”

  Soul

  Cass licked at the corner of his mouth where his lip was split. Where Andy’s dad had backhanded him when he’d tried to pull Andy away from the witch. He could still taste blood. “What’s the good news?”

  “I’m not gonna kill you.” Min spread his hands in a grand gesture, but Cass wrinkled his nose.

  “Then who is?”

  “No one. You get to live. Mostly.” Min shrugged.

  “Mostly?”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna take your soul in payment.”

  “My soul?”

  “Stop repeating me. It’s annoying. Yes. Soul.” Min rubbed the back of his neck.

  Cass leaned back and pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel his ribs shuddering and his heart thumping. This was too much to be real. He’d never doubted that souls existed, but selling his was something for cautionary tales. Not real life. Not like this.

  “Have to take it after, which I hate. Getting the payment up front is the only smart way to do business, but you can’t inspire someone without a soul. Inspiration is a tricky thing at the best of times, you know?”

  “Wait, what’s the other news?” Cass wiped his hands on his pants, grateful for the soft, worn denim that felt like home.

  “Soul stealing is nasty business, kid.”

  “Are you stealing it, or am I selling it?” Cass forced a laugh out. The muse didn’t smile. He continued as though Cass hadn’t spoken.

  “Painful too. You’ll wish you were dead, bu
t you won’t be. Feels like an eternity, but it’s over in a second. Then you kinda are dead.” Min rolled back to the counter and turned the music down. “Not that you’ll care. You won’t be scared anymore, but you won’t be happy, either. Just a whole lot of tired for the rest of your shortened life.”

  Cass swallowed and took a deep breath. “So, I free Andy from getting slaughtered, and in exchange, I have a short and awful life of slavery? Is that it?”

  Min shrugged. “Yeah, at the bare bones, that’s it. Your soul for his life. Simple math, cosmic balance, all parties appeased, and we live happily ever after. Mostly.”

  “Mostly.” Cass blew out a short breath. Everything had a loophole, and he’d find his later. He had to save Andy first. “So, what now?”

  Min reached into the display case, through the glass again, and grabbed a quill. “Now we talk inspiration.”

  “What do I do? Is there a bottle of something? A potion to drink? A talisman? What?” Cass gestured around the cluttered shop, smirking at the extensive music collection. “A special mixtape?”