Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage Book 2), page 15
His brow furrowed, then his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, sorry, of course. I should have explained. I wasn’t on the phone. She was right here.”
“I. Um.” I held my hands up and shrugged, wondering if this was some kind of game, finding myself at a very rare loss for words. “I don’t see her.”
“Of course not. She’s dead.”
Chapter 20
I looked around the room, just to clarify. Was it polite to question the kid’s sanity? Probably not. Maybe it was his coping mechanism for all that trauma we’d just put him through. The obvious way to find out was to ask him, which was what I did.
“Sorry. Did you just say that your mom was dead? And you were talking to her?”
He frowned. “Don’t look so surprised. You do that vanishing thing. You’ve got a werewolf here, and a vampire, so I guess you’re the invisible man?”
Huh. I always failed to consider how shadowstepping looked from someone else’s perspective. He had a point. To an onlooker, all my travels through the Dark Room would just seem as if I’d disappeared and reappeared at different intervals.
“Actually, it’s a little more complicated than that. Long story short, I can travel between shadows. Think of it as short-distance teleportation.”
His mouth formed into a little O. “That’s pretty awesome.”
I won’t lie, that made me feel like the cool guy in the room. I didn’t mean to do it on purpose, but my chest puffed out a bit.
“Well, you know. And you. You talk to the dead?”
He tilted his head up at the ceiling. “Something like it. I don’t fully understand it, you know? I can talk to my mom, at least, and I can heal a little. I found out when I turned eighteen.”
“And you’re how old now?”
He smiled flatly. “Eighteen. That’s when all the weird stuff started happening. If something is living, or has ever been alive, I can – do things to it. Like, I can make plants grow super fast, or I can age something up. It takes a lot of work, though.”
I narrowed my eyes. I had to admit, I had no idea what he meant. “Kind of confusing, if I’m honest.”
Asher shrugged. “Deirdre – the woman who took me – she said that I was a battery, like, apparently I’m so stuffed full of life energy that I can give it to others. That’s why she called me the Genesis Codex. She never even referred to me by name, I guess to maintain secrecy or make sure everyone in the house thought she just had an object stashed somewhere, and not a person.” He said the last bit glumly.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Nah. It’s fine. I was basically homeless when they found me. She said she’d take me in, take care of me. And she did, to a point, but all they did was keep me holed up in my room. I could’ve escaped if I could do what you do. I mean you have, what is it, like shadow magic?”
I perked up and nodded. I like talking about me. “Basically, yeah. There’s other stuff I can do with it.” I thought of the honing, and the mass destruction I caused each time I used it, then decided I didn’t want to scare off the one friend I was almost making by telling him I was a walking slaughterhouse.
“And I get life magic. That’s kind of lame.”
“Don’t be so sure. There’s a reason the Viridian Dawn wanted you.” I spotted the confused look on his face. “Oh. That’s what the people holding you called themselves. They liked to think of themselves as a sort of cult.”
Asher scoffed. “That’s what they were. They thought they were druids. Is that even a thing? Deirdre was the closest thing to it, I guess. She kept going on and on about how technology was evil, how the planet should be returned to nature, which was hilarious because her followers were always on their phones anyway. Apparently the whole point of bringing me in was to use me as an engine to cause some kind of overgrowth, to choke the city.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait. As in, to cause so many plants to just overrun Valero? Is that what you mean?”
“I know it sounds silly, but it’s more destructive than you think. You know how when a tree grows its roots through a house’s foundation, it makes some cracks? Imagine that but on a huger scale. She’d hit two birds with one stone – destroy the city, but also create a haven for druids like her.”
It made sense now, how even the enchanted objects her goons were using drew their power from the earth. Hell, even the god artifact they decided to corrupt was so closely tied to nature. I didn’t think hippies could be so theoretically dangerous, but then we had Deirdre.
“I actually had a sense that you guys were coming,” Asher said. “At least when you were still outside the compound.”
“How could you tell?”
He shrugged again. “It’s part of the package. I can sniff out signs of life around me. All the – cultists, did you say? – I was used to the scent and feel of their life force from them hanging around the house so much. The four of you were new, different, and I didn’t feel threatened, really, except for when your vampire buddy started getting cozy with me.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s got issues. But wait, sorry. You said that you detected our signals? Could you, I don’t know, use that ability to track down someone specific? Say, someone in this city?”
He shook his head. “No can do. It’s strange. I can sense people nearby, but outside of a house, or” – he wove a hand around the room – “whatever this place is? My range is pretty limited. I guess I’m still new to this stuff.”
That meant he couldn’t help find my dad. I tried not to look too disappointed. I mean, it was worth a shot. It couldn’t have hurt to ask.
“Did you have someone you were looking for?
“Not particularly,” I said, slipping him the lie as easily as I slipped a smile onto my face. “Don’t worry about it.” I extended a hand, finally remembering my manners. “We didn’t properly meet. I’m Dustin Graves. You can call me Dust.”
He took my hand and shook it. “Asher Mayhew. You can call me Ash.”
It was stupid, but the two of us chuckled over it anyway. Ash and Dust, like some kind of paranormal law firm, a supernatural detective agency, maybe even a fantasy novel.
“You’ve had something to eat, right? Looks like you totally destroyed what Mama Rosa prepared for you out there.”
“Dude, I love adobo, man. She makes good lumpia too. The spring roll things. I miss the way my mom made stuff.” He waved a hand by way of explanation. “I’m half Filipino. Nothing beats some good old home cooking.”
I smiled wanly, a pang of loss settling in my chest when I realized I couldn’t even remember what my own mother’s cooking tasted like.
“Well,” I said. “I’m bunked in the room next door. Knock if you need anything.”
“Appreciate it. I guess I’ll just wait around for Carver?”
I nodded. “Help yourself to the amenities until then. Your bathroom should be fully stocked. I suggest a nap.”
He gave me a salute, then turned to his knapsack, busying himself with whatever he kept in there. I ambled over to my room. Nice kid, I thought, just as I realized that we really weren’t all that far apart in age. I shut the door, stripped off my shirt, and threw myself on the bed, raring for a nap.
Except that my mind was whirring with so many thoughts, so much new information to process. It was exhilarating to be so close to throwing off the yoke of Dionysus’s curse, and this whole thing about making friends with an actual human being inside of the hideout was pretty cool, too. Fancy that, the Genesis Codex turned out to be a totally decent kid I could see myself hanging out with.
But it kind of sucked that he couldn’t help with finding my father. It still worried me not knowing where he was, and as much as I tried keeping it out of my head, that thing Amaterasu said was still gnawing at me. Typical entities, being all cryptic, just like Hecate. I needed answers. First order of business, just as soon as we sealed the deal with Enrietta and got rid of my death tattoo, was to find some way to track down Norman Graves, even if it meant going over Carver’s head.
I tossed, forcing my eyes shut, then I turned, growing steadily annoyed with my inability to fall asleep. Ugh. Never mind, then. Maybe I could find some other way to pass the time. Maybe I could try and make something happen on a magical scale. I was tired, sure, but if I couldn’t sleep, then I figured it couldn’t hurt to route my energy in a more productive direction. The incident with Romira and the others was as clear a sign as any that I needed to make myself useful in arcane combat.
I did as Carver instructed. I emptied my mind, focusing on the very basis of what I was trying to do: generate heat. He’d said that visualization could help, so I started with that. I’d tried visualizing a candle, a convection oven, hell, even Sterling’s Zippo. But I decided I was going to work with the nervous energy thrumming through my body, to welcome the electrical tangle of confusion, and dread, and excitement. Fuck it. I closed my eyes, and in my head, I was a dragon.
And magic, as Carver said, wasn’t simply a matter of the mind. It was all these things in concert: emotion, imagery, mindset, all of it tied together with something verbal, and something physical. I’d once opened a gateway to a goddess’s dimension by reciting the marketing copy off of a pack of doggie biscuits, after all. If I could connect our reality to Hecate’s domicile, then I sure as hell could make fire.
Burn. That was all I repeated in my head. I was a dragon, and that was all I knew to do, was to burn. Burn. Burn. I held my hand out towards the ceiling, cupping my fingers around the ball of flame I was willing to appear. Something was happening, I was sure of it.
The sheets against my back were so much warmer, my neck glazing with sweat. I was there, so close, and in the spaces between my fingers I swore I could feel the beginnings of something hazy, of the kind of distorted warmth that rises from the asphalt on a summer day. It was working. It was finally working.
My eyes flew open in excitement, but there was nothing there. My hand was still cupped around thin air, and just as soon as the disappointment of reality set in, every other sensation vanished. The fire that I knew was building inside of me melted away like candle wax. I stared at the ceiling accusingly, grumbling to myself, until I spotted something shining, orange, and glimmering above me.
Holy hell. Had the spell worked? Was that fire? Wait. Maybe my eyes were just bleary from being shut. They refocused, and I realized what I was looking at. It was a jewel on the ceiling, reflecting the incandescent light from one of my lamps. Wait. What was a gemstone doing up there?
I looked closer. The jewel was dangling from a single thread. And it was moving all eight of its wriggling legs. It was a spider, with a gem embedded in its back. One of Arachne’s children, the enchanted ones she used to harvest information from around the city. How the hell did it make it into the hideout? More importantly, what did it want?
The answer came swiftly as the secret-spider went about its work of weaving a web in the corner of the ceiling. Supernaturally fast, too, the web taking shape before my eyes, until it had created a roughly circular weave the size of a hubcap. The spider settled into the center, the light reflected out of its gemstone shimmering, then expanding across the web into something hazy and indistinct, like – like a computer screen, I realized.
An image wavered from out of the web, and I swear I almost shit myself when a face came into view. It was Arachne herself, staring out at me from the makeshift flatscreen television her offspring had just crafted for her in the privacy of my own damn bedroom.
“Sweetling,” she said, her voice shuddering and distant, but warm with familiarity. The veil over her face rustled as she spoke. I knew that eight eyes peered out of the beautiful face hidden behind it, though I didn’t quite know why she bothered wearing it. I caught glimpses of her fangs as she smiled, as she cooed in greeting. “Sweetling. Can you hear me? Do you see me?”
“Loud and clear, Arachne,” I said, doing my best to be as enthusiastic and as friendly in return. What the crap was going on? “I thought this place was warded. How did you find me here?”
“We have a special bond, you and I. Not even the ethers or your master’s precious wards can keep us apart.” She tilted her head in a coquettish pose, and grinned again. “How sweet you look outside of your exoskeleton. Tender and fleshy.”
Exoskeleton? Oh. I was half naked. I pulled my covers closer to my body, blushing when I heard her giggle.
“So. Um. How can I help you?”
“On the contrary, sweetling, it is you I have come to help. I have come to warn you. My children bring ill news. I have reason to believe that your former master is alive and well. The woman who dared to kill gods.”
Something cold trailed up my spine. I knew in my bones that Thea was still out there somewhere, but knowing what we did of her and her talent, who could even stand a chance of tracking her down? Of course. An entity.
“Instinct tells me that she exists still. My children note distortions in nature centered around the city of Valero, yet we could not pinpoint her location. I could not sniff her out. It was that accursed ring she traded me. It must have dampened my senses.” Arachne sighed. “Even now I find no trace of your erstwhile master. But I do know that she lives still. You must be careful, Dustin Graves.”
I nodded earnestly. “I will. I thought she’d still be alive. But listen, Arachne. If I may ask. Is there any way you could track someone down for me?”
She cocked her head and rested her chin on her knuckles. “How interesting. The mage thinks he can order around the greatest weaver the world has ever known?”
“That’s not how I meant it at all,” I said, reaching forward in some lame attempt to convey with my body language that I didn’t mean to offend her. “I only wanted to ask.”
“And I only wanted to tease,” she said, smiling kindly. “Ask, then.”
“Would your brood be able to find my father?” It was greedy, I knew, but again, where was the harm in asking?
Arachne’s smile grew wider. “It is a noble thing to ask, sweetling. There is none such as a youngling’s love for its parent. I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” I said, almost rolling off the bed. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Think nothing of it. I make no promises, but I shall consult the web.” She raised her fingers, thin gossamer strands stretched between them like a cat’s cradle, and tittered to herself. “The web. See? Did you like my joke, sweetling?”
“I. Um. Yes.”
“But you did not laugh.”
“You’ll forgive me, Arachne. It’s been a tiring day, and these are strange circumstances for us to be communicating in.” Like a video call, only way creepier. “I do have a last question. Do you – do you watch me when I shower?”
“No. I watch you after.”
“What?”
She chuckled. “I see your pink skin after it has been scrubbed raw in hot water, and it makes me wonder whether you would taste better poached or sauteed.”
“That answer is so much worse than anything I could have possibly expected from you.”
Arachne grinned, her fangs wet and gleaming in the jade light of her domicile. “It is my policy to speak the truth. Until we meet again, Dustin Graves. Stay alive.”
The screen disassembled in a puff of dust, the web collapsing into a net of loose strands and threads. The bejeweled spider scuttled away from its destroyed creation, secreting itself into a crack in the stone, then disappearing from view.
So Thea was still alive. I knew it. I didn’t need to be told. Something connected the two of us, this unseen thread woven out of betrayal and vengeance. On some level I knew that she couldn’t die unless it was by my hand. It wouldn’t be just any other way.
I laid back against my pillow, sighing, the sheets now cool against my back. I had to get some rest. We were going to ship Asher out in a matter of hours, but if my mind was racing after I shut my door, it was practically on fire now. I needed to get this all out of my system.
I raised one hand to the ceiling, palm out, fingers outstretched, grasping an invisible sphere. I thought of myself as a dragon. I thought of Thea.
Burn, I thought. Burn. Burn.
Chapter 21
Steam rose like little wisps of cloud from the tiny opening on top of my latte. It was a chilly night out in Valero, made even colder by the fact that we were smack in the center of the Nicola Arboretum. I wasn’t sure how my coffee was still hot, or why I hadn’t finished it already, actually. By rights it should have died an honorable death within minutes of landing in my hand.
Carver had asked us to swing by a coffee shop en route, which he had never done before, and it was clearly a gesture meant to endear Asher to him. He tried to pay for everything with two hundred-dollar bills, then laughed it off when the barista asked him for smaller change. It wasn’t the first time I wondered where the hell his wealth came from. I mean, how was he even paying us?
Okay, so maybe Carver had never bought us coffees because we’d never actually traveled outside of the hideout together much. But was I bitter? Yes. Of course. As kind as Carver was to me when we first met, he was being especially charming with Asher. Gallant, even. I sucked on my coffee, keeping my suspicions to myself, ever distracted by how I got a full glimpse of my tattoo each time I lifted my cup to my mouth.
Asher was finishing up the rest of his coffee. I didn’t know what he ordered, only that it was hot. Gil stood in front of us with his arms folded, like the big damn bodyguard he was. Sterling didn’t come along for reasons that should be obvious – none of them having to do with me accidentally summoning the sun, of course.
Carver had tipped back the entirety of his insanely hot Americano right in front of an extremely horrified barista, and the six equally horrified people behind us in line. I had to remind him not to do that next time. Maybe it had been so long since he’d been human that he’d forgotten how things were supposed to work.
