by Nazri Noor
“Yes. Neat indeed. Now, if you will excuse me, I think it’s time for some well-deserved rest.”
“What does that mean in your terms, really? Do you just sit in a chair and stare at the walls?”
Carver walked towards the corridor to his office, scoffing. “How thoroughly amusing. One would hope that severing the Dark Room’s corruption from your soul might have given you a better sense of humor.” He flipped his hair as he reached the end of the hallway. “But alas.”
“Rude,” I said, shaking my head as he disappeared around the corner. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked in the opposite direction.
I wasn’t going to lie, though. Losing my connection to the Dark definitely filled me with a sense of loss. For such a long time I’d belonged to the shadows. Blending into the darkness had defined who I was, what I could do. The Dark Room clearly marked my place in the world.
My feet carried me towards the Boneyard’s kitchen and living room, where I found Herald with his arms folded, impatiently waiting for a kettle to boil. A little cream and two sugars, something recited in my head, as instinct and memory told me how he liked to drink his tea.
I smiled at him, saying nothing as I searched the cupboards for some sugar, then raided the fridge for milk. He smiled back, making us two cups. I drank mine eagerly, even though I didn’t like tea all that much. I drank it, because Herald made it.
So maybe that was a start of something new, of a different way to define myself. Not so much had changed about me, after all. I still had space to prove myself a good friend, a good son, a good brother to my brothers at the Boneyard. And to Herald, I could be whatever he needed me to be. Me and him, fire and ice. It would work out, somehow.
“You know you only feel this way because of the love potion, right?”
“Hmm?” I blinked at Herald, my empty teacup dangling from one hand, my chin planted in the other. “What love potion?”
“I’m an alchemist, remember?” He chuckled. “It was never very hard to sneak a little potion into your food. Over time you ingested enough, and pow. Got you wrapped around my pretty little finger.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, scoffing.
“Then it must be my dashing good looks and incredible charm.” Herald puffed his chest out, gesturing at his torso. “Also, all of this.”
I chuckled. “Don’t forget your huge mouth. You’re starting to sound a lot like me.”
“Crucial difference, Graves. You’re an incorrigible blowhard.” He raised his teacup to his lips, winking. “I only ever speak the truth.”
The taunt had the hairs at my nape standing up, or maybe it was how good Herald look when he winked. I launched myself at him, and I wrestled him for a few stupid, flustered moments. He laughed, beating my hands away from his body, even as I brought myself closer. I smiled out of the corner of my mouth. He smiled out of the opposite corner, mirroring me. And still, we were getting closer.
It happened so quickly. When our lips met, it was as if time itself stood still. A terrible cliché, I know, so let me put it in more interesting terms. It was as if a chronomancer had chosen to freeze the universe’s temporal stream, pausing the cosmos for the sake of two dudes who had finally decided to quit messing around in favor of actually, genuinely messing around.
For some moments I wondered which one of us had started the kiss, but a few precious seconds into it, I knew that it didn’t matter. Herald’s lips were soft, his grip on my jaw gentle, yet there was a hint of roughness there, a quiet strength. He tasted like cream and two sugars. The kiss felt right. Correct.
It must have been so frustrating for him to watch me trip over myself, to wait for me to finally figure things out. I wondered why I’d been so confused. For the first time in so long, I felt content. Safe. I felt like everything was going to be okay, that together, Herald and I could do anything. Save the world. Kill the bad guy. Put Mister Grumbles through college. I realized that I was smiling.
Gil trundled into the break room, making a beeline for the fridge, totally oblivious to what was happening. Sterling slunk in as well, muttering something about a beer. Herald and I sprang apart. Sterling noticed, and he leaned on the counter with both elbows, lazily tipping beer past the stupid grin on his lips.
“Please,” he drawled. “Don’t stop on my account.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” I said, clearing my throat.
“This tea is delicious,” Herald announced loudly, staring hard at the tin of loose leaves he’d used to make it. “Mmm. I wonder where this delicious tea is from.”
What was left of the night was spent defending myself from Gil’s gentle ribbing, and Sterling’s not-so-gentle, borderline ruthless attacks about the nature of my relationship with Herald. I think we were content with not calling it anything, only trusting that it was real, and something that warranted further, preferably physical exploration.
I called a car to send Herald home when morning came, I guess because I thought we’d feel safer knowing that the world was bright again. I went along to drop him off at his apartment, too, paying extra for the round trip. It was weird, knowing that I could no longer count on the Dark Room to make a quick jaunt across dimensions, to skip dozens, potentially hundreds of miles by chancing a sprint through its corridors.
But this was better. With the Dark Room sealed off, it meant the Eldest no longer had access to our world. The portals were gone, the contents of that black chamber smashed, demolished at its foundations, pulverized to rubble. As I sat in the passenger seat I raised my face to the coming dawn, relishing the warmth of a young sun as it cast its rays against my skin.
Yet in my chest lingered the strange, almost palpable feeling that something was still lurking there, running its talons against the door of the Dark Room, rapping and knocking. I deny it as much as I can, as I did that morning, the urge to turn inward and answer the summons. On some level it tells me that the only thing truly standing in the way of the Dark’s rebirth is what little discipline I can muster, my own resistance to its black temptation.
Soon enough, the Midnight Convocation will come calling. I know it. The Lorica is watching, too. Always watching. And when they come, I’ll just have to improvise, whether with flames or with fists. All I have to do is avoid the Dark and ignore its siren call.
Easier said than done.
On some nights, when I’m alone, I have to play music, or maybe talk to someone – anyone – to drown out the sound of the Dark. I cannot deny the swirl and tumble of midnight in my chest, the seduction of shadows. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I catch glimpses of what look like tendrils, of what look like fingers, beckoning from the darkness, curling from out of the gloom.
And that makes me wonder whether this is all truly over.
But nobody has to know, right? Not Herald, not the Boneyard, not the Lorica. Just you and me.
Just our little secret.
END
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About the Author
Hi, I’m Nazri, a Filipino-Malaysian author based in California. I’m trilingual, but I really only write in English. I can also speak just enough Sindarin and Valyrian to impress absolutely no one. My urban fantasy novels focus on heroes who use wits, style, and their wildly unpredictable magic to save the day. Think sass and class, while kicking ass.
My influences come from horror and fantasy: HP Lovecraft, Anne Rice, George R.R. Martin, Chuck Palahniuk, Terry Pratchett, and Neil Gaiman. Growing up I was shaped by the Blood Sword, Fighting Fantasy, Lone Wolf, and Grey Star game book univ
erses. I’m also inspired by video games, specifically the Castlevania, Final Fantasy, and Persona series.
Long story short, I’m a huge nerd, and the thrill of imagining wizards and monsters and worlds into existence is what makes me feel most alive. Writing, to me, is magic. If you enjoyed my work, please do consider leaving a review on Amazon. Even just a sentence can do so much. Reviews help readers like you decide whether they’d like my books, and they help indie authors like me with better visibility and credibility.
And do consider joining us over in the Arcane Underground, my own reader group on Facebook. You can talk about my books with other readers, or even directly ask me questions about my stories if you like. I frequently share free and discounted books from myself and other authors, but most importantly, the group is always the first to learn about my latest releases and see new covers as I reveal them.
I hope to see you there. Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting independent authors everywhere.
