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  It was Sterling’s turn to glower back. He stomped down the sidewalk, the last of his cigarette burning ominously as he puffed it to death. “Why should I be jealous that the two of them are getting along so well? It’s good for Mayhew to hang out with someone his age. That doesn’t take anything away from me.” He spat his dying cigarette butt onto the sidewalk, then thrust both hands deep inside his jacket pockets. “I’m. Not. Jealous. Now shut up about it. I’m not bothered, I don’t see why you are.”

  Struck a nerve there. “Whoa. Okay, man. I was only teasing. Geez.” I raised my hands. “Let’s just get to Temple, okay? Herald texted, said he was already there.”

  I’d been to Temple, once, while I was still working as a Hound for the Lorica. On busier nights it was a noisy-as-hell nightclub, the kind of place where outrageously attractive people danced the night away while their bodies ran on dangerous levels of alcohol, amphetamines, or both. But we were going on a Tuesday, which was reserved for playing the sadder, more low-key spectrum of electronic music. It was neutral ground for the Boneyard and the Lorica, someplace we could talk, as Sterling suggested.

  In truth, I knew that he named the place specifically because he was looking to feed. But unless the blood being sucked out of a given neck belonged to me, that was none of my business.

  And true to Tuesday’s theme, Temple did seem pretty tame, at least judging from the lack of long lines to get into the club, or even the deep, pulsing thump of electronic dance music you’d usually sense from half a block away. That night, all they had at the entrance was one bouncer. Not even a velvet rope.

  “I’ll take this,” Sterling said of the cover charge as he nodded at, then swept past the bouncer. Good old weirdly generous Sterling.

  “Thanks, man,” I called after him, nodding at the big, burly bouncer myself. He grunted and nodded back, and I passed through the darkened anteroom leading into Temple proper without incident.

  Well, not quite. All I heard was a dull thud, like something making a small, brief impact with wood. I started at the sound, looked around myself, and found the faint sheen of metal in the gloom, just at eye level.

  There it was, stuck in a doorframe: a knife. It was pinning a sheet of paper to the wood.

  I spun on my heels, ready to dive into the shadows at the first sign of danger. My heartbeat seemed to match the faint pulse of Temple’s somber Tuesday electronica. I reached for the slip of paper, my blood running cold as I read the message scrawled across it, as I recognized the exact design of the knife stabbed into the doorframe.

  Was Donovan Slint still at large?

  Chapter 3

  “Has to be him,” I said, tossing the crumpled sheet of paper in the center of our table. “No question.”

  Gil picked it up, scowling as he read the message out loud. “We’re still watching.”

  Prudence leaned over his shoulder, then tutted. “And there’s this little drawing of an eye. Don’t tell me that Jonah Scion guy has a rogue Eye working for him, too.”

  Bastion shook his head. “Doesn’t have to be an Eye, Prue. It could be any kind of seer. Anyone with the gift of long sight. Jonah’s gone off the deep end, but it doesn’t mean that he’s exclusively recruiting disgruntled Lorica employees.”

  “Unless he is,” I said. “I mean, is it so unlikely? And look at this.”

  I slid the knife towards the center of the table. Everyone sprang away as if I’d dropped a grenade. Only Prudence moved forward, pretending to stretch her arms over and past our drinks, then deftly slipping the knife up one of her sleeves.

  “This isn’t a space for us to be doing this, Dust,” she hissed. “You trying to get us kicked out? You don’t just pull knives.”

  I ruffled my hair, then threw up my hands as I collapsed into my chair. “Sorry! Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But my point stands. That’s the same knife that Donovan stabbed into my chest.”

  Prudence pretended to adjust her cuff, staring down the length of her sleeve. “Okay, I can’t see shit, anyway. Plus I wasn’t there when it happened. But we’ll sort this out, Dust. We always do.”

  I gave her the best smile I could muster.

  “It’s good to have you back, Prudence,” I said.

  Herald stretched one reassuring arm across my shoulders, then squeezed hard as he took a swig of his beer. “It sure is. You’ve missed a lot.”

  Agatha Black’s awakening, most important of all.

  “But if Dust says it’s the same knife,” Herald continued, “then I believe him.”

  Bastion rolled his shoulders, sitting straighter. His eyes flitted between me and Herald. “Yeah. I do too. I think we all believe him.” Bastion reached over, patting me gently, but awkwardly on the back of the hand.

  Okay? That was weird. Things had been somewhat strange between me and Bastion since the string of incidents between retrieving Banjo and Agatha’s awakening, but he hadn’t done anything truly odd, nothing to make me really think there was anything out of the ordinary. But this patting thing kind of qualified.

  “I – um. Thanks.” I pulled my hand away slowly. Bastion cleared his throat. The glimmering neon lights of Temple’s interiors reflected in the lenses of Herald’s glasses. If he saw anything, he was doing a good job of pretending he hadn’t noticed.

  “We’ll put feelers out,” Bastion said, blinking rapidly, regaining his composure. He was speaking in his Scion voice, the one that made him seem a little older, more mature – and okay, fine, just a little more handsome. “I’ll put some Eyes on the job. Have them be on the lookout for Jonah and Donovan.”

  “Good call,” Gil said. His arm was around Prudence’s shoulders, a mirror of how Herald was latched onto me. She’d only been in town a week, fresh off a trip to China with her grandmother, and it had been exactly seven days since Gil had slept at the Boneyard. I guess they missed each other a lot. A whole lot.

  Prudence sighed. “I’m gone for a few weeks and everything changes. A rogue Hound I can understand, but a Scion gone AWOL? Serving the Eldest?”

  “Hey,” Herald said. “Not unheard of. Remember Thea Morgana?”

  I scoffed. “I’d really rather not.” I took a swig of my beer, the bubbling rush of it sweet and bitter across my tongue. “But all that aside, the more immediate problem is the thing that Jonah and Donovan actually worked together to unleash. Agatha Black. Do we have any news?”

  Silence. Prudence and Bastion exchanged looks. Herald shook his head.

  “Next time we do this, we should have Romira around,” Prudence said. “She’s one of the best Eyes we’ve got. Of course, the trouble is that inviting her out likely means having Royce around as well.”

  “What?” I said. “That’s cool. Royce is cool. We’re cool now.” Especially after that thing where he saved my life, again, by teleporting me out and away from Chernobog’s clutches.

  Prudence shook her head, giving me a mock frown. “Who are you and what have you done with Dustin Graves?”

  “Listen,” I said, shrugging. “You missed a lot. Also, I can’t help that I’m really, really charming, even to monsters like Royce.”

  Gil guffawed, and Prudence rolled her eyes. Bastion smiled to himself, tilting his head. He rubbed his chin, and just like that, the smile was gone.

  “I think the best thing to do in this situation is to keep our eyes peeled,” Prudence said. “You boys look out with whatever tools you have at the Boneyard, and we’ll keep watch at the Lorica as well.”

  “Fair is fair,” I said. “But I’m freaking out over all this silence around Agatha. And this thing with the knife in the doorframe isn’t comforting, either.”

  Herald leaned in, squeezing my arm. “If it helps, I’ve been scanning the place. There’s nothing – no one amiss here.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured back. “That helps, a little.”

  “That’s it, then,” Prudence said. “Keep our eyes open, and not just on explicitly arcane phenomena. Pay attention to the news, and to social media. It could be
a signal if anything at all seems off in Valero. Hell, California, maybe even the rest of the country. Who knows where Agatha is?”

  “Point taken,” Gil said. “And everyone can tap into their own networks. Sterling can speak to the – wait, where is he?”

  I raised my finger and spun it in a circle. “Somewhere around here,” I said. “He said he was hungry.”

  Prudence’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Right. Then whenever you see him, pass on everything we discussed. Tell your boss, Carver, too. And that Asher kid still lives with you guys, right? I’m sure he can use necromancy to help fish information for the cause, somehow.”

  She was right. I’d known Asher to talk to the dead in the past, specifically using his ability to root out important details in a spirit’s surroundings, using the dead as his eyes and ears. “Excellent suggestion,” I said, nodding at Prudence and smiling. It really was good to have her back.

  “For now, we wait,” Bastion said, leaning back, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I don’t like the idea of it, but without any leads, what choice do we have?”

  “Put protections in place,” Herald said. “Shore up our defenses. I think we know enough from our dealings with the Eldest and their agents that this is the calm before the storm. Gather the stuff we need, practice and sharpen our magic. Something bad is brewing, and we need to be ready for it.”

  A murmur of agreement went around the table, and for the moment, talk of Agatha and the Eldest was set aside. I studied each of my friends’ faces, finding varying degrees of concern, and it turned out that Herald was watching me in turn.

  “Try not to worry,” he said, softly enough that only I could hear. “We keep on living, right? That’s what we do.”

  “For now,” I said, maybe a little too glumly. Herald’s forehead furrowed. I really didn’t mean to get him to worry even more. I figured then was as good a time as any to give him something worth smiling about.

  “Totally unrelated,” I said, “but maybe, okay, a little related to living our lives. I won a tour of Happy, Inc.”

  “What? Are you serious?” Herald blinked at me. “That’s over in Central Square, right near the Lorica. That sounds amazing. You love Happy stuff. How did you even win? I didn’t even know there was a contest.”

  “Long story,” I said, shaking my head. “You had to find a special cardboard token in one of their burgers.”

  “Sounds like a choking hazard.”

  “Fucking exactly,” I grumbled. “But hey, there’s good news. I get to take some guests, so you’re coming with.”

  Herald’s eyes lit up. “I am stoked. Beyond stoked. Do we get to go on a weekend? I’ll take off work if I have to, the Gallery can live without me one day. Shit, this is going to be so much fun.” He leaned in, pecking me quickly on the cheek. “So much fun, dude.”

  I chuckled and sputtered. “I get it, I’m an amazing boyfriend. And all I had to do was nearly die from choking on a hamburger.”

  “About that.” Herald’s fingers dug into my shoulder, and he stared hard into my eyes, his expression going deathly serious. “We’re going to have to work on your gag reflex.”

  I blushed instantly, batting his hands away. “Oh my God. Igarashi. Stop.” Herald chuckled. I couldn’t tell if it was his just the club lights on his glasses, or if his eyes really did flash with devilish intent.

  Across the table, Bastion leaned back into his chair, his eyes swiveling around Temple like he was looking for his own mark, the same way that Sterling had. I could tell he was watching us, doing his best to listen. I had to wonder why.

  “This is dumb,” Herald said softly. “But do you want to get out of here soon? I kind of want to work out what to wear.”

  I laughed. “Are you serious? We’re touring a fast food corporation, it’s not a gala.”

  “That’s the point,” he said. “I have to dress down, and you’re the right man to tell me how to do that.”

  “So rude,” I said, looking down at my comfy, threadbare T-shirt and that same old jacket Herald once gave me. “Impossibly rude.”

  He laughed, squeezing my hand. “One last round, then let’s head out.”

  “Sure.”

  Herald left the table to fetch our drinks. I didn’t mean to, but instinctively, I turned to look if Bastion was still watching. But he was gone.

  Chapter 4

  The first thing you notice, after walking into the hallowed halls of Happy, Inc., is the brightness. I’d read somewhere that the fast food industry loves using red and yellow in its design because those colors appeal to the appetite. The inside of HQ didn’t look like a burger joint explosion, exactly, but they weren’t shy about mixing up their primary colors, kind of like being in some kind of funhouse. Yet somehow it all worked, in a young, trendy, dare I say hipster-ish kind of way.

  The second thing you notice is all the teeth.

  Maybe the elusive Mr. Thorpe gave the Happy empire fantastic dental benefits, but by God did everyone have perfect chompers. I remembered the Happy Cow’s manager and how her smile was so perfect and pearlescent. Our tour guide for the day – Katherine, a nice young woman who worked in marketing – had an even more radiant smile, one with enough power to reduce entire cities to rubble.

  Or, barring that, an impressionable young man’s pliant, vulnerable heart. Asher seemed to be a little bit more interested in what Katherine had to say than our actual surroundings. Mason contained himself a little better, poking his nose curiously into displays of company uniforms over the years, gratefully accepting samples of unreleased menu items as they were offered to us.

  Like an actual artisanal hotdog, never found at any of the Happy Dog stands because it was far too rich and sassy to sell, with its ridiculous brushings of authentic truffle oil, and tiny shavings of edible gold foil sprinkled over the mustard. Who knew you could even eat gold?

  “This is delicious,” Herald said, biting off fully a third of the bourgeoisie dog he’d been handed. “I – it’s so delicious,” he continued over a mouthful of hotdog, eyes shut, his throat emanating a weird kind of noise that I’d only ever heard him make in the bedroom.

  “Okay,” I said, speaking through a forced grin. “Keep it down, now.”

  “You’re only saying that because you haven’t tried yours. Eat it.”

  I took a bite, and yeah, Herald was absolutely right. A constellation of flavors exploded across my tongue, new universes birthed out of bread and meat and condiments. I saw stars, galaxies. It was like magic. What the fuck did Happy, Inc. put in their damn food?

  “This is too good,” I murmured.

  “We’re so glad you think so,” Katherine said, her smile dazzling the room – and Asher – as she continued to guide us through HQ. “And you haven’t even tried the recipes we’re testing for the opening of Happy Ramen.” She brought a finger to her lips and winked. “Shh, that’s a secret. Good thing we made you sign those nondisclosure agreements before the tour. No telling, or else we’d have to kill you.”

  Katherine giggled. We laughed, too, but not quite as enthusiastically. The way she said it almost made it sound like Happy, Inc. did have the right to kill us if we talked. Man, I really should read things before I sign them.

  “Sure, our presence is strongest in California,” Katherine said, her waves of blond hair tumbling behind her as she led the way. “And especially in Valero. But we’ve got branches all over the country, to make sure that our excellent products can reach as many Americans as possible. To feed them and make them happy.”

  None of us remarked on the fact that a continuous diet of everything the Happy corporation offered couldn’t be very good for you, but hey, that wouldn’t have been polite. And I’m as self-aware as anybody. Man can’t live on burgers and hotdogs and boba tea alone, no matter how delicious.

  “But the real goal,” Katherine said, as she brought us into a somewhat darker room, “is expansion. We here at Happy, Inc. believe so strongly in our product line that we know with one hundre
d percent confidence how well we can do almost anywhere.”

  I looked around myself warily. Even Herald had stopped chowing down, inspecting the relative darkness. Weird, I thought, that I couldn’t make anything out. Then Katherine clapped her hands, and I understood.

  The sensors activated and the lights all around the room came on. The room itself – walls, ceiling, corners – was rounded, like the inside of a snow globe, a dome. It was entirely bare except for the pinpricks of light arranged all around us, each one representing the location of a Happy, Inc. chain. We were standing smack in the center of a very large map of the world.

  A projector high up in the ceiling flickered as it showed the inside of a wireframe globe. Little green lights pulsed all across America, marking locations all the way from the East to the West Coast, though most thickly clumped, as Katherine explained, in California. The rest of the world was studded in tiny red dots. Future locations, I guessed, but why red? Way too ominous. They looked like targets for some kind of missile strike.

  Katherine spread her arms, gesturing at the rotating continents and nations around us. “The main objective, gentlemen,” she said, in her cheeriest voice, “is world domination.” She grinned, her teeth glinting red as stray beams from the projector scattered across her lips.

  Asher made a soft, awed “Wow.” Mason looked on with his arms folded, trying not to seem so impressed. Herald’s glasses reflected the glimmers of red, making him look more than a little demonic himself. I chuckled nervously.

  Katherine clapped her hands again. That deactivated the projector, and the map disappeared. Lights powered on from various corners of the room, and I could almost forget about the weird dread sitting in the pit of my stomach when the cheery reds and yellows of Happy HQ came back with the brighter lights. Katherine flashed her perfect teeth at us again, her hair cascading as she stepped briskly towards the exit.

  “Let’s continue, shall we?”