Last Rites (Darkling Mage Book 6) Read online

  I sputtered and picked something off my tongue – a piece of fluff, probably from one of the dolls – and for a second I considered what I was even doing. Not bowing to peer pressure, oh no, that’s for sure. And I certainly wasn’t stealing a gift for anyone but myself. I was doing it for me. For fun. And most importantly, for me.

  Not for anyone else, I thought to myself, as I wondered whether Herald would prefer the blue bunny or the pink pig. Herald, who was – what were we, anyway? Just buddies, right? Just a couple of dudes. Best friends.

  Which was why I couldn’t just mess everything up between us. I couldn’t risk ruining a friendship forged over long nights spent talking, or playing video games on his couch, of doing one or the other so late into the night that we’d look out the window to find that morning had nearly arrived.

  And sometimes, we would share a beer on his balcony, watching the coming of a new sun, saying nothing as the sky went from black, to purple, to gold. And sometimes, he’d fall asleep on my shoulder, drooling out of one corner of his mouth, and when he’d wake up I’d mock him and pretend that I hated it.

  You know. Just regular friend stuff.

  In the end I grabbed a tiger, who frowned at me with his angry little tiger face. I don’t know. It was cute. It seemed appropriate.

  Careful not to draw attention to myself, I slipped the tiger inside my jacket, my heart thumping with the thrill of petty thievery. My other hand, though, was already reaching for my wallet, thumbing through the bills.

  I picked out twenty bucks and slipped them between the bunny and the pig for the operator to find. Surely that was enough to cover the cost of one missing tiger.

  With a little knock on the Dark Room, I melted back into the shadows, making a quick jaunt through its murky hallways before I reappeared under the tree, leaning against its bark, arms haughtily folded, my lips pursed smugly in triumph.

  “I knew you could do it, you dirty sneak thief,” Sterling said, patting me on the back.

  “What’d you get?” Asher asked, peering curiously at the lump under my jacket.

  “This little guy,” I said, brandishing the tiger.

  “That’s perfect,” Asher said approvingly. “I’m sure Herald will like that.”

  “It’s for me,” I grunted, holding the stuffed tiger in both hands.

  “Sure it is,” Sterling trilled, spitting out his lollipop stick and immediately replacing it with a cigarette.

  I turned the tiger around to look at its scrunched little face. It was frowning at me. “Don’t judge me, you little jerk,” I muttered, as if expecting it to answer. But if the tiger could speak, it never got the chance.

  A flash of white lit up the night, so powerful that it rendered me basically blind, even with my eyes downcast. I clutched my face, a horrible ringing in my ears, but this wasn’t happening in my head. People around me were gasping, some screaming in shock. And I hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was: the barely lingering sound of dissonant flutes, a distant, high-pitched keening. But after the initial burst of radiance, only silence.

  Someone tugged on my jacket. I squeezed my eyes open and shut, then blinked rapidly, desperate for my vision to return. Things began to swim back into focus, and the first thing I saw was Asher’s face staring into mine.

  “We’re okay,” he said. “It was just light.”

  As my sight returned I caught a glimpse of Sterling huddling behind the very same tree I used to shadowstep. I wasn’t going to make fun of him for it. Sterling and bright light – sunlight, in particular – had a complicated relationship.

  Some of the carnival-goers were heading for the exits, moving briskly, but cautiously. I caught snatches of conversation, hurried whispers. Someone mentioned an electrical problem, hence the flash of light. One very nervous-looking man ushered his children away, and I caught him breathily mutter a single word. “Terrorists.”

  Most people seemed content to stay, probably figuring it was a temporary fluke, or maybe a part of the show. But even the staff working at Madam Babbage’s looked confused, disoriented by the strange display. A few mumbled into their walkie talkies as they glanced across the carnival grounds.

  Something was definitely up. I had only one theory in mind, and I didn’t like the sound of things in my head already. White light was the trademark of the Eldest.

  Prudence skittered up to us, Gil’s winnings already tucked into a huge plastic bag. Gil followed close behind. Both of their faces were creased with worry.

  “Did you guys catch that?” Prudence asked, panting.

  “It came from the parking lot,” Gil said.

  I pulled my backpack closer to my body, glad that I’d decided to take Vanitas along for the night after all.

  “Then that’s where we’re headed,” I said, my legs already carrying me towards the exits. The backs of my eyeballs still ached, frazzled by the strange white pulse, and the colorful bulbs festooning the carnival’s signs and displays looked hazier now, blurry halos of light dancing at their edges. Otherworldly. Wrong.

  The five of us made it all the way out of the grounds, Sterling nervously bringing up the rear. I was walking full tilt and had to stop myself as we exited. The crowd that had left earlier was gathered there in thick clumps, panicked looks on their faces, some barking or sobbing into cellphones.

  And from all around the parking lot wailed sirens, car alarms. No flash of light could have triggered that. Maybe an electrical pulse. Or worse. Far worse. I was still in denial.

  “Not good,” I muttered to myself, muscling my way through. “This is not good.”

  We finally cleared the crowd, and I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat when we saw the parking lot.

  Rather, what was left of the parking lot.

  It was a crater, all fissured cement and upturned earth. Pulverized cars sat in twisted heaps, smashed into the asphalt. It was as if some great hand had reached from out of the heavens, crushing the parking lot with the furious might of a gargantuan fist.

  Prudence placed one hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. When I turned to look, her face was mournful, almost apologetic. When I spoke, I almost didn’t hear my own words.

  “They’re back.”

  Chapter 3

  “They missed the carnival,” Gil said, staring at his thumbs. “They were aiming for the carnival, and they missed.”

  “Who is ‘they,’ exactly?” Sterling said. “How are we so sure we even know what’s going on here?”

  “I think we all know,” I groaned.

  I was splayed out on the couch – the long red one that Sterling liked so much, and to my surprise, had surrendered for my use. My head was in Asher’s lap, and he was holding an ice pack to my brow, the chill of it penetrating the towel in his hand. I shifted, then groaned some more.

  The attack at the carnival had utterly destroyed everything in the parking lot. The normals were arguing over what might have caused it before we left. Sinkhole, someone said, before being cussed out by someone else who pointed out that a sinkhole doesn’t just flatten four-wheel drives into metal pancakes.

  Gil had, understandably, grumbled something about not getting his deposit back for the rental car, and that left us with no recourse for transportation. The alternatives were to call for a rideshare and pay possibly a hefty hundred bucks because of the distance, or to buzz Carver and beg him to teleport to our location, then cast another sending spell to bring us all back home to the Boneyard.

  But no. Oh no. Dusty had to be the big damn hero of the operation, so I ushered everyone to the very edges of the parking lot, instructing them to stand under the shadow of a particularly tall lamppost. Then I shadowstepped all five of us, herding our group through the chambers of the Dark Room so we could get home safe and sound.

  And we did, appearing in one of the Boneyard’s hallways – where I promptly doubled over and puked my guts out. I’d never shadowstepped such huge distances, never mind taking four whole other people with me.

>   “I’m gonna die,” I murmured, quivering.

  “Quit fidgeting,” Asher muttered, lightly tapping his fingers against my cheek. Tiny tendrils of healing magic reached into my skin, down into my cells, curling deliciously as they worked the leftover chill and ache of the Dark Room out of my bones. “You’re gonna be fine.”

  I groaned and clutched my stomach, then felt at myself again when I found a weird bulge under my jacket. The tiger. I held it even closer to my body, squeezing it, somehow feeling warmer. Don’t ask me how, but it helped.

  “I don’t mean to make things worse just now,” Prudence said, “but I’m pretty sure we know what happened out there.”

  Carver watched us over steepled fingers, a steaming cup of tea sitting untouched on the coffee table before him. His amber eyes followed each of us as we spoke, but I kept my gaze stuck on him. Everyone had their theories, well and good, but as the expert on everything to do with the Eldest, he would know for sure.

  “They’ve returned,” Carver said quietly. “It appears that the measures we’ve taken to nullify the Eldest have had little to no lasting effect. Sealing their rifts was not enough to diminish their power. Even defeating the White Mother wasn’t a crushing enough blow to their forces.”

  He rubbed the center of his forehead with one long, slender finger. I watched, moisture from the ice pack dripping down my temple, an equally chilling sense of dread building in the pit of my stomach.

  “And now they’ve decided to dispense with ceremony. No more rifts. The Eldest are content to reach out to our plane purely with the emanations of their corrupt power. The incident at the carnival will not be isolated, I can assure you of that.”

  “It was a blast from straight out of the sky,” Sterling said, his boot tapping incessantly against the stone floor. “Does that mean that they’re like the Heart? They can attack wherever they want?”

  “Like an orbital strike,” I mumbled. The dread in my body was quickly transforming into despair.

  “Worse,” Carver said gravely. “It appears that they’ve gathered enough of their terrible power to penetrate the barriers between our worlds as they please, and I am certain that they will be able to send these waves of destruction anywhere they desire.”

  “Anywhere on the planet,” Gil said, his face lined with both awe and horror.

  Asher asked what we were all thinking, the one question I didn’t dare voice myself. “And why did they strike Madam Babbage’s? Why the carnival?”

  For some uncomfortable moments, no one said a word. We all knew what that answer was. Even Asher. He only wanted to be told otherwise. The reality of it hung thick in the air, choking like smoke, yet thoroughly unspoken.

  Even after all that trouble with the Crown of Stars, nothing had truly changed. My soul still burned like a signal flare for the Eldest, shining as bright as a beacon to guide them to our reality, to act as a magnet for their destruction.

  “But we were having such a good time tonight,” I murmured. The words kept tumbling from my mouth, hardly making sense to anyone but myself. “We got to just mess around. We weren’t supposed to worry about anything. This was supposed to be fun. I stole a tiger.” I looked down at my hands. “I don’t want to think about dying again. Not this soon.”

  Ah. There it was.

  “Patronage,” Gil offered. “Maybe another entity will take you. Is it too soon to check with the Midnight Convocation?”

  I grunted noncommittally, hoping it was enough of a response, which it clearly wasn’t. “I still haven’t heard from Nyx. I think they’re happy to keep the homunculus’s soul. Why go through the trouble of trying again? They don’t need me.”

  From out of the corner of my eye I saw Carver leaning forward in his seat. “We won’t have to resort to that, Dustin.” He gathered up his teacup, taking a cursory sip, then setting it back down in its dainty little saucer. “Over my dead body, as they say.”

  I forced myself to give a little smile, but it didn’t stick. Asher’s fingers trailed against my skin as they moved a lock of hair out of my face. I knew he was doing his best to give me an encouraging smile of his own, but I just couldn’t manage it then. I kept staring at my thumbs.

  The couch dipped as Prudence took a seat at the end of it, just by my feet. She placed a reassuring hand on my shin – sure, why not – and pressed her lips together.

  “You know that you have friends at the Lorica. More friends than ever. We’ll keep the Heart distracted and looking the other way for as long as it takes everyone to find a solution to this problem, once and for all.”

  “Asher will help me sift through my library for any spells or rituals that may help,” Carver said. Asher nodded briskly, his eyes hard with determination. “Perhaps an enchantment of some sort. Yes. An artifact, specifically created to veil you from the eyes of the Eldest.” He hummed to himself in thought. The cup and saucer clinked again, and he sipped.

  I pushed myself off the couch, Asher supporting me by the shoulders as I went up. I smiled tightly at him in thanks, my stomach still in knots despite everyone’s best attempts to cheer me up. Sterling’s boots clacked as he lifted off his seat and stalked straight for me. He had his giant pink teddy bear tucked under one arm.

  “Listen,” he said. “I let you use The Sofa.”

  I glanced down at where Asher, Prudence, and I were sitting, the long red sofa that Sterling had silently declared his own the very day it was moved into the Boneyard.

  “Right,” I said.

  “That means I like you enough as a friend. Okay? As if you didn’t know already. And I’m not afraid to admit that I’m scared as fuck of what’s coming, but we’re not just going to roll over and let the Eldest stomp their shitty moccasins all over us. Hey. Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

  I couldn’t help that the huge bear was in my eye line. I had to choose between looking into the bear’s beady plastic eyes – or Sterling’s crotch. One option was less terrifying than the other.

  “Kind of hard to take you seriously with your bear staring me full in the face,” I mumbled. I was still, I realized, in something of a daze.

  Sterling raised his chin, glaring at me down the end of his nose. “His name is Rufus,” he declared haughtily, hugging the bear tighter to his body.

  I looked up at him finally, chuckling despite my misery. For whatever else Sterling was, and however else he behaved, he got me to laugh in that moment. That mattered to me, for some reason. It counted for something. I looked down at my knees, laughing to myself again. He named the bear.

  After a few more rounds of consolation, not quite enough to lift my spirits, unfortunately, everyone slowly dispersed. I took a beer out of the fridge to bring to my bedroom, thinking it would at least help me relax, if only a little. I opened my backpack and Vanitas floated gracefully from out of his pocket dimension, the garnets in his hilt blinking in greeting as he spoke.

  “Bad night?” he asked.

  “The worst. Those assholes who made you are back.”

  “What? Again? I thought we dealt with that.”

  “Not quite well enough, I’m afraid,” I said, taking a pull of my beer. I grimaced as the bubbles fizzed at my throat on the way down, but I licked my lips and savored the bittersweetness of the beer. Bittersweetness. Hah.

  “Well,” Vanitas said, his jewels glimmering in the half-light as his voice thrummed in my head. “Did you want to talk about it?”

  “Not just now, buddy,” I said. “I think I’ve had enough talking for one night.”

  “Right,” he said, hovering over to a stone shelf in my bedroom, the space that had been designated as his living quarters. “I won’t say anymore, but I can sense that you’re not feeling at all well, Dustin. If you want to talk, I’m here. I’m not just good for cutting your enemies into tiny little pieces, after all.” He coughed pointedly. “Which, I might add, we haven’t done in too long a time.”

  “Knowing the trouble that’s coming, you’ll be getting your chance soon en
ough, buddy.” I smiled at him. “And thanks. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need to vent.”

  As promised, Vanitas said nothing more, scraping into position on the shelf, his garnets dimming as he went dormant. I kicked my shoes off, placed my hands behind my head, then fell into bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what I could do to take my mind off of things.

  Play video games, I considered. Read an ebook. Hell, go look up some really filthy porn. But nothing appealed to me just then. The only activity that truly jumped out at me was the one thing I had pledged to do more of, to practice more, but that hardly counted as taking my mind off of things. In fact, I’m pretty sure it qualified as plunging straight into the heart of the matter.

  But Carver did say that doing it was one way I could learn to exert more control over my abilities, and control was what I craved that night. I needed to feel like I had some kind of power over my existence – over my destiny. I wasn’t just some pawn, plaything, or victim of the Eldest, and I wanted to prove it.

  So I turned inward. I rapped my knuckles against the door of the Dark Room, prepared – no, worse, excited to explore and uncover more of its endless obsidian labyrinth.

  Chapter 4

  Easy enough for me to say that entering the Dark Room would be a welcome, if slightly frightening distraction from yet another looming threat of imminent death – but things were different. Things had changed since the day I decided to stop fearing its chambers, to embrace it as a kind of second home.

  You already know that my connection to the Dark gave me improved eyesight in gloomy conditions. In our reality, I could navigate a completely unlit environment without bumping into stuff or tripping over. No sweat. That was why it was so interesting for me to work as a Hound for the Lorica. All I needed was one of those crystal phials to suck all the electricity out of a compound, and my target – whether it was a house, an office building, or a college dorm room – was transformed into my playground.