by Nazri Noor
Sterling threw his arm over me, rubbing the back of my neck with fingers like cold sausages. “We’ll take care of you, buddy. Just us boys of the Boneyard, from now until forever, hey?” He bumped our foreheads together, as affectionate as Sterling would ever be. “Carpe noctem. Remember.”
I smiled. Right. Sterling’s catchphrase, and our touchstone, to remind us Boneyard boys that we worked best in darkness, that we would always do our best together as a team, as a unit. It did make me feel better. Only just.
Then a shaft of silver brilliance struck from out of the sky, bathing the three of us in a beam of near-blinding light.
“The hell is this supposed to be?” Gil growled, shielding his eyes.
“It’s not the Eldest this time,” I said, still crouching, still wary. “I don’t hear the awful noises. Do you?”
“No,” Sterling said, his fingers digging into my jacket. “But I still say we make a run for it.”
I dragged them along with me as I maneuvered for the nearest shadow, just under a lamppost, but the searchlight from the sky followed, swallowing us up in its radiance.
And I mean that literally. Silk Road, its many, many shops, Valero itself vanished from around us as the night went silver –
Then back to black again. Gil, Sterling, and I instinctively arranged ourselves into a tight circle, back to back, ready for battle. But just some feet away, two silvery points of light appeared, accompanied by a swirl of even more pinpricks of brilliance. Little stars, arranged in the shape of a woman.
Through teeth shining with silver light, the woman smiled, and all around her familiar forms and faces manifested from out of the darkness.
“Carpe noctem, gentlemen,” Nyx said. “Welcome back to the Midnight Convocation.”
Chapter 17
I whirled in place, studying our surroundings. It was pitch-dark, the only light coming from distant points that I knew instinctively to be stars, or from the glowing bodies of the gods, demons, and entities that surrounded us in a circle.
“Don’t panic,” Gil said.
“Too late,” Sterling growled, his fingers crooked like talons.
“Guys, it’s cool. We’re cool. I think.” I recognized the gods, some of them faces I’d already seen the first time I met with the Convocation. I looked to Nyx, one eyebrow raised. “This isn’t the Lunar Palace.”
“Quite,” she said. “We decided it would be better to meet in a more – scenic location.”
Outer space, I thought, or a domicile that looked very much like it, what the entities of night and shadow considered a relaxing, intimate location. Don’t look down, I told myself. Don’t look down. Yet I did, and my stomach did a horrible swoop as I gazed upon the emptiness of the abyss.
“So,” I said, stilling the tremble in my voice as I addressed Nyx. “It’s been a while. I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
She gave me a sincere, sympathetic smile, the light from her mouth fading as her lips pressed together. “Yes. There was that mixup with your simulacrum. The homunculus.”
“The Crown of Stars recognized the echo of your soul.” Chernobog, god of darkness, was as aloof and arrogant as ever, wisps of black smoke curling from his hooded body. “We cannot be held responsible for its whims.”
“But it’s your relic,” I snapped. “It’s your tool, your instrument of power. And you couldn’t control it?”
“Unprecedented,” Artemis said, toying with a single arrow, one hand balancing it by its pointed tip, the other playing with its feathers. “Your former mentor, the mad sorceress. Thea Morgana, was it? She did an exceptional job crafting your clone.”
I noted that, Nyx aside, there was no hint of an apology in any of the entities’ faces. I swallowed my anger, keeping my pride to myself. We were at the Convocation’s mercy, after all, and we still didn’t know what they wanted.
Artemis leaned forward, setting her arrow back in its quiver, then regarded each one of us thoughtfully. She held up a finger, counting us off. “The shadow boy, the vampire, and the moon-cursed wolf.” She rubbed her chin. “Wasn’t there a fourth one at your trial? The one with the glasses. Plays with ice, always looks angry.”
“Oh, that would be Herald,” Sterling said, nodding. “Dust’s boyfriend. Yeah, he couldn’t show up, I think they’re having a spat or something.”
“Dude,” I grunted, elbowing him in the stomach. “Shut up.”
Sterling shrugged and held up his hands. “The boy’s in denial. What are you gonna do?”
Artemis mirrored his pose, shaking her head. “I hear that.”
“Listen,” I snarled, my ears burning. “We aren’t here to talk about – well, not that, at least. Why did you want to see us?”
Nyx ran her fingers through the luxurious tumble of stars and night sky that made up her hair. “You touched the lock of hair I gave you. I recognized your emanations. You were my champion once, after all, Dustin Graves.”
“Yeah,” I said, still fighting my anger. “And what came of that? Nothing. Once again we humans had to deal with the Eldest ourselves. I bled too much that night.” I turned in place as I spat my words out, making sure the entities could hear my anger, see it etched on my face. “I killed one of the Eldest, and none of you helped.”
The entities murmured among themselves, some nodding, others shaking their heads. I scoffed. They could believe what they wanted. Only one thing could have been truer: we didn’t get any help from the entities, and neither was I going to expect any going forward. Arachne, Hecate, and some of those I could almost call my friends and allies had helped before, but Odin, and these fickle members of the Midnight Convocation? I clenched my fists, squeezed them harder.
“Settle your emotions, mortal,” Chernobog boomed. “You speak to the gods themselves.”
“And when will the gods listen?” I shouted, frustration choking my throat. The entities went silent.
Gil pulled on the back of my jacket, rubbing my shoulder with one huge hand. “Dude,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
“Yeah man,” Sterling mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get us killed.”
One voice spoke, strong and steely. It was the diminutive, dainty goddess I recognized as Metzli, the Aztec goddess of the night. “This is why we have collected you from your reality, Dustin Graves. We have an offer.”
“If it’s my soul you want, then you can just – ”
“That’s not it, Graves,” Artemis said, frowning. “If you could just listen for, like, one minute.”
I bit my lip.
“Very well,” Nyx said. She looked around at all of the entities, then nodded. “The Midnight Convocation has pledged to offer you its help. You may call on us, but once, and once only, and the entities of our clan will appear as it suits them. Be it to save you, or aid you in battle, it matters not.” She spread her hands, points and streaks of light forming between her fingers, tracing out the pattern of the Crown of Stars.
“Perhaps destiny did not see fit to give you the right to wear this mantle. Perhaps your fate was to keep your soul after all.” Nyx clapped her hands, and the Crown disappeared in a puff of stardust. “Then allow us to lend you this one opportunity. You say that the entities do not care for this earth, that only humans have shown any spine in battling the Old Ones.” She raised her chin. “Then allow us to prove you wrong.”
I couldn’t speak. My voice had caught in my chest in my utter shock.
“That would be extremely helpful, Dust,” Gil said slowly, nudging me.
“Extremely helpful,” Sterling echoed through gritted teeth. Take the deal, I could hear him thinking. Do it.
“And what price do you expect in return?” I said, still haughty, still defiant.
“Nothing,” Artemis said. “Absolutely nothing. Call it a matter of evening out the injustice. Your homunculus was an aberration, an anomaly. His coronation was a mistake. This is us setting things right.”
This was as good an apology as we would ev
er get from the Convocation. I looked around myself, at the glimmering eyes of the vastly powerful deities surrounding us. I couldn’t even imagine the limits of their might. Among them was Tsukuyomi, son of Izanami, god of the moon. Though he’d stayed silent throughout the meeting, he still smiled at me, nodding encouragingly. I nodded back.
“Then we accept,” I said.
“Excellent,” Nyx answered. She raised her hand, a swirl of tiny stars and galaxies gathering in her palm. The vortex quickened, spinning faster and faster, until it coalesced into a single, milky crystal. She extended her arm, and the crystal drifted towards me. I took it carefully out of the air.
“Don’t worry,” Artemis said. “It’s not that fragile. But it will sense your intent. If you truly feel the time is right to summon the Convocation, then smash the crystal, and those of us who hear will answer your call.”
I looked into the crystal, marveling at the cosmos swirling within its heart, an entire miniature universe. When I closed my fingers around it, the crystal felt warm, alive, as if it truly did hold the power of so many stars and suns within its facets.
“Thank you,” I said, finally remembering to be polite.
“Yes, well,” Metzli said, coughing into her hand. “It’s the least we can do.”
Chernobog threw her a withering glare, which she ignored.
“Then this gods-moot is adjourned,” Nyx said.
One by one the gods faded into the darkness. Tsukuyomi smiled at me again as he vanished, and Artemis twiddled her fingers in a sort of mocking, sort of flirtatious goodbye. Nyx drifted towards me, her hair a mass of burning stars. Beside me, Sterling gasped.
“Brave choices you made there, Dustin,” she said, smiling out of the corner of one mouth.
I shrugged. “I swear it wasn’t on purpose.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Maybe I need to see someone about these anger issues.”
She pressed her hand against my chest, her touch at once so cold, yet so warm where her skin was studded with stars. “I blame this, truthfully. The shard of the Old Ones is still buried there, and for as long as it exists, they will keep coming. They sense you, even here, even now.”
“But he can’t just die,” Gil said softly. “Surely that’s not the solution. There has to be something better than just snuffing Dust out.”
“Izanami’s ritual may yet be of use,” Nyx said, cocking one shoulder. “I’m glad at least that I’ve donated my hair to a good cause. As for those other ingredients?” She breathed out and tutted. “Quite the challenge. But you don’t have to die for this, Dustin. At least I hope not. There’s more of your life that must be lived yet.”
I nodded curtly. Well and good for a goddess to try and comfort me, but her existence wasn’t tied to – well, the rest of existence, the way that mine was.
“I don’t know how to thank you for your help,” I said. “But remember, I will call on you.” I placed my hand over my breast pocket, where the Convocation’s crystal still burned warm. “There’s no chance in hell that I won’t.”
“And we will be waiting.” She waved her hand across the sky, and slowly, Sterling, Gil, and I began our descent. “You spoke, Dustin Graves, and you made your case.”
Nyx began to fade as we sped back to earth. “Let no one say that the gods did not listen.”
Chapter 18
“On the list of the shadiest things we’ve ever done, this is really close to the top.” Asher tutted at me, his fingers twisting a handful of my jacket.
“Do you have any better ideas?” I hissed. “Because I’m all ears.”
Asher bit his lip, but his glare didn’t waver.
“Good,” I whispered. “Then stay quiet.”
Because quiet was what we needed right then. Hospitals don’t tend to be very busy after dark, and this one was no different. Apart from the beeping of medical machinery and the occasional shuffling of a night nurse’s feet, the building was mostly still, and silent.
You guessed right. Sterling and Gil had gone back to the Boneyard, but Asher and I were going to try for one of Izanami’s ingredients. Pretty simple guess as to which one, I’m certain. We were huddled in the shadow of a large cabinet, waiting for things to truly settle down now that visiting hours were over.
I’d smuggled the two of us in through the Dark Room, going vaguely by the building’s floor plan and basing our exit point on what we could see from the ground floor. It was a good thing I bothered checking, too.
If I’d brought us in just a few more feet to the left, Asher and I would have manifested right in the middle of a vending machine. Lucky. It would have made for an especially messy and kind of hilarious way to die, our blood and guts mixed in with all that candy.
But as we’ve already established, I wasn’t prepared to go. Not my time. We were waiting for someone else to die that night, a man by the name of William Reynolds – Billy to his friends. Eighty-seven years old, according to his chart, and due to expire at any moment.
Frankly, I thought it’d take us more time to actually find the right candidate, but something about Asher’s wiring made it easy for him to sniff out the weak and the dying. His eyes had started to burn with green fire the very moment we shadowstepped onto the seventh floor. Creepy as hell, but it did make things a little more convenient for us.
And I know. It’s not lost on me, how terrible it is to talk so candidly about something like this. But what kind of approach is ever appropriate when it comes to stealing someone’s dying breath? I was doing my best to be practical, given the situation. It helped convince me that we were somehow doing the right thing.
“Coast is as clear as it’ll ever be,” Asher said, turning his head around, his bewitched eyes seeing more than I could, piercing through walls.
“So creepy,” I said. Useful, though. Asher could detect death, so it only made sense that he could perceive life as well.
He squinted at me, blinking once, the jade fire fading from his eyes. He stared me down with the natural brown of his pupils. “Now’s not the time, Dust. Let’s do this.”
We crossed the hall into Reynolds’s room. He was dozing when we entered, his body a tangle of wires and tubes, barely alive. His lashes began to flutter as we approached his bedside. We stood over him in silence, with Asher just behind me, preparing to siphon Billy’s final breath.
Mister Reynolds looked groggily between us, his gaze a mix of confusion and mild annoyance. “Not nurses,” he croaked. “Don’t know you.” His eyes narrowed, and he coughed. “Where’s Mary? I miss Mary.”
“You’ll be seeing her again very soon, Mister Reynolds.” Asher’s voice was gentle.
“About time.” He chuckled, then coughed again. Satisfied somehow, he rested his head back against his pillow and shut his eyes once more. Death was kind to Billy Reynolds. His breath left him in a final, whispering rush, his mouth falling open, his wrist slipping, dangling from the edge of the bed.
“Rest in peace,” Asher murmured.
“Mister Reynolds?” I nudged him by the arm. “Billy? Sir?”
Nothing. Billy Reynolds was gone. I spun in place. “Did you get it? His last breath?”
“No,” Asher said, staring at his hands. “I tried, but nothing happened. I was sure it would work.”
“Damn it,” I said. “We should get out of here.”
His brows shot up his forehead as he stared past me, a strange light reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea right about now.”
I looked over my shoulder. A tiny sphere of light was leaving Billy Reynolds’s body through his mouth. His soul? Something else? I didn’t want to wait to find out, and Asher clearly felt the same. He dug his fingers into my arm as I dragged him into the darkness beneath us.
We shadowstepped back onto the sidewalk outside the hospital. Asher was searching the building with his eyes, but he didn’t need to resort to necromancy. I could see the orb of light just fine, and I watched as it floated lazily through one of the hospital’s windows
– then straight towards us.
“The hell is going on?” I hissed.
“Dunno. This has never happened before.”
“You’re the necromancer. I’d imagine you’d know a thing or two about – ”
The orb rocketed straight for my face. My heart slammed against my ribcage. Instinctively I reached out to the Dark Room, ordering it to swallow me. But a hand reached out past my head.
I froze. The hand and its pallid fingers expertly caught the little sphere of light. Asher and I skittered away, breaking off from the hand and the woman it was attached to.
My pulse settled only the slightest when I saw her stepping out of the darkness.
“Izanami,” I said.
“Dustin Graves,” she answered, a warm smile on her lips. “And this one is – ah, the young necromancer. Asher Mayhew.”
“Ma’am,” Asher said, giving her a quick, polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”
He didn’t need to be told. It was safe to assume that Asher was familiar with at least a few of the names of the gods of death. Knowing how good of a student he was, he probably had them all memorized, too.
“Very sweet,” she said, grinning at Asher, then at the little ball of light in the palm of her hand. “You should have known that there was nothing to fear, gentlemen. This was simply the poor old man’s essence. Though I understand that it is quite unusual, and perhaps extremely disconcerting, seeing a human soul flee its mortal husk for the very first time.”
“About that,” I said. “This is pretty awkward. We were actually hoping to collect Mister Reynolds’s last breath. For the enchantment.”
Izanami pressed her fingers around Billy Reynolds’s essence, clenching her hand into a loose fist. His light went out. The goddess closed her eyes and shuddered. I shuddered, too, but for an entirely different reason.
I cleared my throat.
“Sorry,” Izanami said, her eyes fluttering open. “You were saying?”
