Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage Book 2), page 20
“The waitress? Wow. She seemed so, I don’t know, loyal to you.”
“Well, yes, but she was still only human in the end. Greed took over, and all that. Which is funny for me to say, I suppose, considering my people aren’t exactly above greed and other petty emotions. As you may have noticed yourself.” He winked. I grimaced.
“So I assume the maenad’s getting the axe.”
“Yes. You might say in a very literal way, even.”
Yikes. Considering how Dionysus’s followers were so bloodthirsty by default, I decided not to probe further on the matter. “But about my arm,” I said, lifting my wrist to my face, the breath catching in my throat when I realized the death brand was gone.
“It’s done. Shame, really. I thought it was a good look for you. You should consider getting a tattoo.”
“Not for a long time, no. And I think I’ll avoid accepting food and drink from entities from now on, thanks very much. I don’t like the idea of being poisoned again.”
Dionysus looked at me and blinked, somewhat bemused, when something clicked. He chuckled softly. “Oh. Of course. The poison. Right.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Wait. Was it a trick? “You did poison me, didn’t you? The tattoo wasn’t just a ruse? I was going to die when the last petal fell?”
“Oh, yes, of course. It’s just that it’s hard for me to think of it as a poison. This is what happened. You swallowed a very tiny little seed. So small, you couldn’t possibly have noticed it in your wine. I didn’t poison you, really, so much as planted something inside of your body.”
“Wait. What?”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t have dropped dead.” Dionysus grabbed his throat, eyes bulging, and he made an exaggerated choking sound. Then he laughed. “Nothing like that. Here’s what would have happened if the timer had run out. That thing inside you would have grown all at once, and brambles would have burst out of every orifice in your body.”
My mouth fell open. Dionysus pointed at the carrion-stalk.
“Kind of like that, actually. Which reminds me.” He held his hand out, and the noise of something whizzing through the air sounded through the night. A speck of gold leapt from the tip of the spire, flying at high speed towards his open hand. His thyrsus. We’d totally forgotten about it.
“Curious how that woman – your old master, I mean – was able to create something so massive. I suppose she used the power from the Codex to perform the trick. That’s what the Viridian Dawn was planning, you know? Vines everywhere, across the whole city, then the world.” He tutted. “It’s why they wanted my precious little baby.”
He pointed the thyrsus at the twisted mass of vines. There was no flash of light, no grand display of magic, just a sigh, as of the wind shifting. The tower disintegrated into a storm of flowers, falling all about us in a hail of petals.
I couldn’t help holding my mouth open as I stared. Even the battle-hardened men and women of the Lorica gaped at the sight, some reaching for wands and defensive devices in case it was some kind of trap. I felt like I was in on a small, sacred secret, that I was the only person in the arboretum who knew the phenomenon for what it was: a god’s favor.
“Awesome, isn’t it?” Dionysus said, chuckling. “Anyway, I should be off. You should come by the Amphora for a drink one of these nights.”
I frowned. “That’s a terrible joke.”
Dionysus laughed. “I know. That’s what makes it so funny.” He clapped my shoulder – the uninjured one, like he knew where I’d been hurt – and winked again. “Don’t be a stranger, Dustin Graves. The gods don’t forget those who have helped them.” And before I could answer, the wind sighed again, and the god had dispersed into a cloud of petals.
The craziest thing of all was that no one seemed to notice, not Asher, who was being treated just an arm’s length from me, and not Bastion, though I suppose I understood considering how exhausted they both were.
Ah. But Carver? Trust Carver to be on top of everything.
“Making friends in low places, I see.” His suit was still ripped where Thea had returned his spear, but he looked all right otherwise, apart from the occasional smudges of shrike blood on his slightly rumpled clothing.
“I’m just glad that’s over,” I said. “I’m just glad that this is all over.”
“Not quite.”
I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed her, but a young woman joined the two of us, slipping into the conversation like she had every right to be there. And truthfully, she did, considering she was in charge of the entire operation. It had been months since I’d seen her, but Odessa looked very much the same. She was a Scion of the Lorica, and if Bastion and Prudence were to be believed, the reason behind how strangely the whole business with the Codex – with Asher – was being handled.
“Dustin Graves.”
I stiffened my back and fought not to stammer. Something about Odessa had always intimidated me, and it wasn’t just her rank as a Scion.
“Odessa. Hi. I don’t know if you’ve met my – I guess he’s my boss. Carver.”
Something passed between them, and Odessa raised an eyebrow. “Carver.” The corner of her mouth quirked, not quite a smile, but almost. “Is that the name you go by these days?”
The thing Carver did with his lips could have almost passed for a smile. “A pleasure to see you too, Odessa.”
That was the other thing. Talk at the Lorica put Odessa’s age somewhere in the hundreds, even though she didn’t look a minute over eighteen. And that same chill of time I felt from her emanated from Carver as well. Whatever history these two had, it went back a while.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Odessa said. “Surely you’ve realized by now that we’ve resorted to non-aggression because of the – unusual circumstances surrounding the Codex. That is why you all still live. I’ve held back the Lorica’s hand in this. We won’t make trouble for you and your people, Carver. Give us the Codex, and we’ll be on our way.” She waved a hand across the garden, across the carpet of petals. “We’ll forget this ever happened.”
Carver scoffed. “You speak as if this was our fault. Thea was one of your own. Blame her for what happened. The boy stays with us.”
The brief talk of necromancy came back to me, and I wondered if that was why both factions – well, three, if you counted the newly defunct Viridian Dawn – wanted Asher so badly.
Odessa crossed her arms, the gesture somehow making her seem so much bigger. “We have wards, artifacts, room enough at the Lorica to protect him. A rotating staff of personal guardians. He will be safe with us.”
Carver was either playing well at looking unimpressed, or genuinely was, and he just shrugged. “We have a werewolf.”
I nodded, I guess as my way of supporting my current employer. But before I could say anything, Asher had already asserted himself, making his presence known by clearing his throat.
“I wonder if I’m allowed to decide for myself,” he said quietly. It occurred to me then that he probably hadn’t been given that opportunity very many times in life.
Odessa watched him for a moment, as did Carver. Then she nodded.
“I’ll stay with Carver, if that’s all right with everyone.” Asher scratched the bridge of his nose. “I have a feeling he has a lot to teach me.”
Odessa’s expression remained unchanged, but something in her demeanor was enough to tell me she was disappointed. Similarly, something in Carver’s stony-still face told me he was thrilled.
“Very well,” Odessa said, brushing aside a single lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “But we’ll be watching.” She turned to Carver. “We’re always watching.”
Carver smiled thinly. “Of that I am hideously aware.”
Odessa gave Asher one last, lingering look, and was about to leave when Romira approached us. She gazed at each of us in turn, aware that she had walked into something, but whatever she needed to tell Odessa clearly couldn’t wait. There was an uncharacteristic agitation in Romira’s face, and it made me uncomfortable. Itchy.
“Well?” Odessa folded her hands in front of her, waiting. “Do you have something to report?”
Romira looked about again, her gaze resting on me this time.
“It’s all right to speak,” Odessa said.
“Fine then.” Romira nodded. “We’ve scoured the grounds, and I’ve used my sight. I know it sounds unlikely, but we can’t find her. There’s no trace of Thea’s body anywhere.”
I held the bundle of broken bronze in my jacket closer to my chest, Vanitas’s shattered pieces still cool from the night air. I clenched my fist.
Chapter 28
“Pass the lemon butter sauce,” Bastion said.
Gil set down his utensils, wiped his mouth, and kindly obliged. To his left, Prudence was tucking into her own plate of boiled crab. Carver sat next to Bastion, taking small sips of his coffee between mouthfuls of food, finally having remembered that humans didn’t have a normal tolerance for boiling-hot liquid.
No one was throwing punches, and no one was trying to kill each other. Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. I couldn’t quite recall who had suggested it, but after the battle at the botanical gardens, it was decided that the whole lot of us should go out for dinner some time, get to know each other, possibly draw some professional boundary lines.
I’d dreaded potential shenanigans involving poison, but the Lorica half of our dining party would never have resorted to something so low, and the other half tended to prefer ripping things apart and getting as bloody as possible. As dinner progressed, though, it was becoming increasingly clear that those lines were very blurry as far as Prudence and Gil were concerned.
Carver had announced at the beginning of the evening that he was paying for everything. So far our dinner guests were being very reasonably polite about ordering, but it still made me question where his ridiculous buying power and accompanying lack of understanding of modern finances were coming from.
Maybe it was time to ask for a raise. It certainly seemed like Carver could afford to give me one, plus in the course of being employed by him I’d already been stabbed, shot, poisoned, and set on fire. And that was just the last three days. I needed compensation, rest, and maybe health insurance. I took another swig of my beer and grimaced. This night was supposed to be about letting my hair down and having fun, not coming to terms with the harsh realities of adulting.
I turned my attention back to dinner, poking at the overly large heap of fries still lingering on my plate. It was interesting to see how everyone had paired off for the night. Prudence and Gil required little explanation. Carver and Bastion, arguably the two most destructive of the forces seated at our table, seemed to have gravitated and warmed to each other out of some unspoken mutual respect.
Asher looked content to cram his face full of anything that our waiter brought – poor kid probably hadn’t had a nice meal out for ages – up until the point that Romira started playing her little games with him, which sent him blushing as red as the demolished half-shells of crab on his plate. Sterling kept slinking away from the table, either to look for his own nourishment or, far likelier, to smoke another dozen cigarettes back to back.
I was content to sit across from Herald, who, out of everyone, needed the most coaxing to come out and join us. He probably didn’t fancy the idea of mingling so readily with the bloodthirsty predators I counted as my coworkers, but the far likelier reality was that he was still feeling awkward about throwing me under the bus. And I made sure not to let him forget it, at least for the entire first half-hour of dinner.
He nodded at my fries. “You gonna finish those?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Go ahead. You can take them.” He leaned over eagerly, spearing my fries with his fork. “The way you took liberties about my status with the Lorica and made me out to be a wanted criminal.”
Herald stuffed his mouth full of potatoes and rolled his eyes. “Are you still mad about that? Geez. I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“That’s hardly enough.” I restrained a smirk. I was laying it on thick, but hey, he kind of deserved it.
“Oh my god, fine. Brunch on me next time we go. Better?”
I sucked on my lip and frowned.
“Seriously? Two brunches. Fuck. Fine.”
“Deal.” I nearly grinned, but the reason I was even giving Herald a hard time resurfaced in my mind, diminishing the small joy of being promised a free meal. I stared at the knife in my hand. It was weird to be reminded of Vanitas at a time like this, but retrieving him for the Lorica was how Herald and I even became friends in the first place. “Not that there’s anything for me to be mad about anymore, honestly. Vanitas is gone. I guess the Lorica won’t have reason to come after me now.”
Herald chewed thoughtfully, then set his fork down to take a sip of his mojito. “Really shitty for that to have happened. Considering the sword’s age and power, you’d think it would have taken more to destroy it.”
Given Herald’s work and his affinity for artifacts, I thought it best not to mention how many had been consumed and summarily smashed in our crushing of the Viridian Dawn. “You know, it’s far more likely that we underestimated Thea. She was stronger than she was before, and if she survived, I’m worried she’s going to be even worse.”
Carver’s eyes flitted towards me at the mention of Thea’s name, but he said nothing. Herald shook his head.
“This is depressing. I really don’t want to talk about her. I want to believe I’m better off pretending she’s dead, but we all know she’ll be back. Like a cockroach.” He grimaced. “Or a herpes sore.”
I raised an eyebrow, both at the trivialization of probably the most powerful non-entity we’d encountered so far, as well as the off-kilter reference.
“Herpes, huh?”
Herald blushed crimson. “Or so I’ve heard. Shut up. Listen. My point is, maybe something can still be done about Vanitas’s condition.”
My back straightened, my ears feeling as if they’d swiveled forward, and I gaped openly at him, disbelieving. “I’m sorry. Did I just hear you correctly?”
Herald leaned in. “You find the right enchanter – maybe even the right entity – to do a favor for you, and there’s a chance the sword can be reforged. Don’t let this get your hopes up, but that means that its magical enhancements, even its personality might yet be restored.”
“That would be incredible. Holy shit, Herald, that would be amazing.”
He frowned again. “Tone it down. Like I said, don’t keep your hopes us. But we can talk it out some more, probably a time and a place when I’m not trying to replace my blood with alcohol.” He took another sip of his mojito, then grimaced. “How is this already not cold enough? Ugh.”
He tapped his fingers on the tablecloth, but I knew what was happening before the violet filaments of light had even emerged from his hand. If anyone at our table noticed Herald was casting a spell, no one disapproved. Hell, Carver might have even been proud. He touched his glass again, and the sides of it immediately fogged with condensation as the liquid cooled. He took a swig, smacked his lips, then nodded approvingly.
“Much better.”
I watched him glug down his drink with envy. Yet again the question of casting my first proper spell gnawed at me. Slowly learning to hone and sharpen the darkness was a good thing, sure, but I wasn’t so certain I was prepared to give a blood tithe every time I had to defend myself – or hurt something. An eye for an eye? Call me a brat, but it hardly seemed right.
“So unfair. I still can’t do that shit.”
Herald sighed, stirring his drink with his finger, his very touch chilling the mojito. I hadn’t realized magic could be so damn practical before I was exposed to his little tricks.
“It takes time, as with everything. And practice. Lots and lots of practice. I didn’t wake up overnight and throw my first fireball. That took months of dedicated study, meditation, all that boring shit. Everyone takes a different path, but one thing is common in everyone’s journey: it starts with a single step.”
I rolled my eyes at the empty platitude. “Practice? Hard work? I just want everything to be easy, and I want it all right now.”
Maybe Carver was right all those times he was joking. Maybe I really was stupid. Hell, it took a visit from the actual Greek goddess of magic to get me to even understand the honing. Imagine receiving instruction from the very authority in your field and still failing at it.
Herald chuckled, then drained the rest of his mojito. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, wiping his mouth with a sweep of his hand. “Just keep at it and you’ll learn something eventually. It’s like a muscle. A step at a time. A day at a time.”
“Ugh.”
I changed the subject at that point, to ask about what was new at the Gallery, about what cool new artifacts he’d been tasked to sort and classify. That conversation turned out to be a dead end. The trouble with Herald, and Prudence, and all the others was that they were way too professional. I guess I couldn’t blame them since I was technically the enemy. Was I? Truth be told, I couldn’t really tell anymore.
Everyone went off soon after, the evening ending on a polite, pleasant note, thanks all around directed towards Carver for the free grub. I wanted to think that we came away from it with a greater respect for everyone involved, but with the implicit understanding that if things came down to advancing our individual professional agendas, no one would have any hesitation about breaking someone else’s face.
Carver was very firm about escorting Asher straight back to the hideout. The four-armed, two-headed beast that was once Gil and Prudence didn’t say where they were headed, but they seemed pretty happy about it. Bastion said something about hitting the clubs. Herald wanted to head home, lock himself in for the weekend and play video games, which, frankly, sounded amazing. And I went for a walk.
I guess I needed to collect myself, to kind of settle considering how quickly everything had happened over the past few days. All I’d really learned was that gods could be assholes, but that life could be a smidge easier if they took a shine to you. I was still waiting on one of Arachne’s secret-spiders to show up with news, to see what they’d learned about the father matter. The pater matter, as it were. God, I’m hilarious.
