by Nazri Noor
“Unless they eat me and I die,” I pointed out.
Carver smiled. “Unless you die. But as furious as I was with you today, I still have confidence that you’ll make something useful out of this. Find a way to speak to the Beasts.”
“Right.”
“And one last thing. Get in touch with the Bastion boy.”
My heart thumped. “S-sorry?”
“Sebastion Brandt. I need you to contact him directly. It unsettles me to know that the Lorica’s best Eyes have found nothing of Agatha Black’s movements. It disturbs me even more that I have similarly failed on that front. Call Sebastion and ask him for something that once belonged to his grandmother. A lock of hair, an old garment, it doesn’t matter. It must be something that spent time on her person before she was transformed by the Eldest.”
“So, like a piece of jewelry?”
Carver waved his hand. “Yes, that would do just fine. A portion of a person’s life essence remains with their favored possessions, you see, and that may well be the key to tracking down the lioness.”
“Okay then,” I said, swallowing. “Call Bastion. No problem.”
“You will, of course, have to meet him as well,” Carver said. He had no way of knowing how Bastion had been acting weird around me, and therefore no basis for mocking or teasing me about it, but sitting in that chair, stroking Banjo from head to tail made him look every bit the supervillain. “To retrieve said object and bring it to me.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll work it out.”
I went straight for my bedroom as soon as Carver dismissed me, pausing just long enough outside Asher’s room to make sure that Mason was okay. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding, but it was still there, sliced into his skin, angry and red. Asher’s magic could only do so much. Was Nightmare really that vicious? Maybe the blades of the Dark Room had properties I didn’t full understand yet. I apologized to Mason again, then locked my door behind me.
It’s not like I was doing anything wrong, was I? I just had to call Bastion, meet up with him, and collect the nebulous anything that previously belonged to Agatha Black. But just to be sure, just to be safe – I picked up my phone, because I needed some backup.
“Hi,” I said. “Prudence? Are you free tonight?”
Chapter 9
I twiddled my thumbs, waiting in a leather armchair in the foyer of Brandt Manor, feeling poorer and poorer by the second. That indistinct smell of something floral and citrus-y wafted gently through the mansion, a scent that said “Yes, hi, I’m a candle that costs sixty whole dollars, and the Brandts light one of me every day.”
Prudence was late. Like hell was I going to tell her why I needed her around, and in retrospect, it sounded silly in my own head. What was I supposed to tell her? That Bastion was being cockier, creepier, more physical than usual, and to make sure that she got there quick?
The padding of what sounded like bare feet came through the foyer. You pick up on these things when you get used to the normal sounds of Brandt Manor, that of servants in fine leather shoes, their soles clicking rhythmically as they went about their work. Barefoot was not a thing at Brandt Manor.
I looked up towards the source of the noise, and held my breath. Bare-chested wasn’t supposed to be a thing there, either.
Bastion had just entered through one of the doorways, wrapped in just a towel, his skin slightly wet. Staring just at his face was a monumental effort, because – damn it, fine, the boy was built like a Greek statue, okay? So I peeked.
“Um,” I croaked. “Hi.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. He had a smaller, matching towel, the same cream color as the one wrapped way too low on his waist, and was twisting its corner into his ear. Both were monogrammed with the letters S and B. Hand-stitched, too, knowing the Brandts. “Sorry, you caught me at a bad time. Went for a swim.”
He was flexing. He was flexing for sure.
“Right,” I said. A likely story. I called him before I showed up, and it took me at least twenty minutes between finding a rideshare and actually arriving at Brandt Manor. And he decided to take a swim just then? Sure. “So,” I continued. “I’m just here for the thing of Agatha’s I asked for, then I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, that.” Bastion swept over to one of the side tables dotted around the room, the kind you might leave keys or spare change on, except this one looked so ancient and ornate that it probably cost more than all my internal organs combined. He collected something from it, then stepped over to my chair. From where I was sitting, he looked more naked than ever.
Just look at his face, I told myself. Don’t look anywhere but his face.
I stared hard into his eyes, gray and cruel, like his father’s in the portrait watching us from above the fireplace. He was flexing even harder, damn it. I reached out my hand, opening my palm. Bastion held both my gaze and his grip a little too long. When he dropped the thing in his hand into mine, it was still warm from his touch. I looked at it more closely, an ornate silver brooch in the shape of a lion’s head.
“It’s an old brooch of hers,” Bastion said. “One of her favorites. She liked to wear it at parties. I’m sure enough of her essence rubbed off on the thing. That’s actually interesting, what Carver’s thinking of. I’ll have some of Grandmother’s things brought to the Lorica for the Eyes to take a look at. Truthfully I doubt it’ll work – she’s changed so much that even her energy signature might not match what it was when she was – well, when she was human. But we’ll take every lead we can get.”
“Wonderful,” said a voice from above us. I looked up to find Luella Brandt leaning languorously on her bannister, swishing a glass of her favorite whiskey in one hand, cupping her chin in the other. “All this business about my mother running loose is terrifying. I’d rather we rein her in before she – gods, what is she even capable of? I couldn’t begin to imagine. All I know is that we need everyone’s help to put a stop to this. Yours included, dear Dustin.”
I smiled at her. Bastion raised his head to meet Luella’s, and gave her a small smile himself. “For once, we actually agree on something, Mother.”
Luella raised her glass at Bastion, then nodded, a silent toast. Then a sharp sort of smile found its way to her lips, a wicked gleam playing in her eyes. “Now Bastion, why are you strutting around in just a towel? I saw you not five minutes ago and you were fully clothed. Next thing I knew,” she purred, tilting her head to one side, “you were rushing to the second floor guest bath, tearing off your clothes and spritzing yourself with water.” Her lips parted, her teeth bared as she stared him down like a jungle cat. “Why – are you trying to impress someone? Is it Dustin, perhaps?”
I kept perfectly still, Agatha’s brooch warm in my hand. My skin ran hot. Bastion’s did, too. His face went red, his skin flushing from his forehead to his cheeks, down to his neck and his chest and – wait. Don’t look, I told myself, holding my head perfectly still. Don’t look.
“Bastion?” said a voice from behind us. I turned to find Prudence standing just by the front door, her expression one of deep puzzlement. “What the – why are you – did you just get out of the shower?”
He cleared his throat, raised his chin, and set his spine in an unusually erect position. “That’s none of your business.”
I wasn’t expecting Romira to show up next – neither did Bastion, apparently, from how his hands quickly flew to cover his torso. But she slunk in next to Prudence, a playful smile on her lips.
“Ooh la la, Sebastion,” she said. “Break me off a piece of that. Where do I sign up for my lap dance?”
From far above us, Luella Brandt barked with laughter.
“Why are the two of you even here?” Bastion demanded, redder than ever.
“For the show, apparently,” Prudence said, fixing him with a grim stare. “Romira, did you bring any singles? We should’ve stopped by an ATM.”
“Very funny,” Bastion huffed.
“Whatever,” Prudence said. “Get dressed. We�
�re heading out.”
I started to panic. “What? I thought it was just you, me, and Romira.”
Prudence tilted her head, frowning. “I thought the whole point of asking us to come here was so that Bastion could tag along?”
“Oh,” I said. Damn it. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Um, actually, I was just here to pick up the thing I needed for Carver. Bastion doesn’t need to come with.”
He raised his chin, glaring at me. “And why the hell not?”
“He’s right,” Romira said. “If we’re going fishing for information, more warm bodies couldn’t hurt.” She tittered, cocking her shoulder. “Teehee. Warm bodies.”
“Oh, do take him with you,” Luella called from the top of the staircase. “Sebastion can be such a bore when he’s like this, stomping around the house and pining.”
I blinked. Pining?
“We’ll get him out of your hair just as soon as he throws some clothes on,” Prudence said.
Romira giggled. “Maybe a tank top. He’s got those arms and all. Oh, and hi, Mrs. Brandt.”
Luella raised her glass at Romira and smiled. Romira nudged me with her elbow, whispering. “When I grow up, I want to be just like her.”
Chapter 10
Things weren’t as awkward as I thought they’d be, not when there were four of us, and not when Bastion insisted on calling shotgun for the rideshare. At least we didn’t have to sit next to each other. Plus we had a fifth to serve as an extra social buffer, if you counted Madam Chien, Prudence’s grandmother. Her apothecary, oddly comforting with its soft incandescent light and scores of antique chests and cabinets, was our first destination. We were hoping that she’d know something about how to communicate with the Great Beasts.
“This is a difficult one, admittedly,” Madam Chien said, rubbing her chin. Lucky that we caught her just in time, too. She was just about to close up shop for the night.
Madam Chien was the kind of old lady who was just the right mix of wizened and sprightly. She seemed diminutive, nondescript as she wandered the aisles of her musty shop, endlessly arranging and rearranging her stocks of phials and ingredients. But we knew better. The woman packed a significant punch, and probably had decades of arcane prowess to back her fists up. Both magic and martial arts ran in Prudence’s family’s blood, it seemed.
“My boss doesn’t know where to start, either,” I told her.
“That is not at all surprising,” she said. “No one simply goes off in search of gigantic monsters to ask them for trinkets or favors.” She cocked an eyebrow at me, scowling. “No one in their right mind, at least.”
I shrugged. “It’s one thing we haven’t tried, and I don’t mean to exaggerate, but we’re going to need all the help we can get when it comes to Agatha Black.”
“Yes. I’ve heard of this lioness of yours. Her prestige was quite widespread within the arcane community. She might have even come to shop here, once or twice.” I didn’t think it was possible, but Madam Chien frowned even harder, her face screwing up into a prune. “She was not the most pleasant woman.”
Bastion bowed his head apologetically. “It came with the territory, I think. I suppose the magic got to her head.”
Romira smirked. “Sort of runs in the blood, the arrogance.”
Bastion reddened and looked away. He cleared his throat, but said nothing.
“Then there’s nothing you can tell us that would help, Grandma?” Prudence folded her arms, her lips twisted in disappointment. “I thought for sure that you might be able to tip us off.”
Madam Chien scoffed. “Please. Even if I did know, do you truly believe that I would have told you where to find the Great Beasts? To send my only granddaughter into the jaws of death? You’re more foolish than I thought.”
“Grandma,” Prudence grumbled warningly.
Madam Chien barked back in Mandarin, and that set them off. I couldn’t begin to tell you what they were arguing about, only that I was really glad I wasn’t caught in the crossfire. I broke off with Romira and Bastion, and we went into our own little huddle, over by a shelf stacked high with jars of colorful powder.
“So,” Romira said. “Any ideas?”
“We ask an entity,” Bastion said. “Someone who knows about these things.”
“Interesting proposition,” I said. “Except that even Loki himself didn’t know where the Beasts hang out. I mean, wouldn’t he have told me if he knew?”
“So, again, we ask an entity,” Bastion said, his jaw clenching. “Someone who’s good with secrets.”
Romira’s eyes flitted between us, and she licked her lips, as if hesitating to speak. “Or someone who’s good with animals. Big old animals. The biggest.”
I shook my head. “The last time I talked to Artemis, Chernobog showed up to pull my heart out of my chest. Remember? As for secrets, I’m not sure I’m still on good footing with Arachne.”
Romira nodded. “That’s one option. Or we could go bigger and check with Hecate.”
Bastion nodded, too. “Even better. Goddess of magic, probably knows more about lore than the others.”
My eyes fell on a bit of dust on the floor. Behind us, Prudence and her grandmother were still arguing.
“I haven’t heard from her in ages. You know, I never had to use a communion to find her, after that first time.” The first time being the night that Bastion, Prudence, and I went to seek out the Greek goddess of magic and very nearly got killed. “She just kind of showed up whenever she wanted. Wait. Romira. Aren’t you linked to Cerberus?”
Cerberus was her patron, a simplistic way of saying that Romira had a contract with the Great Beast, one that gave him ownership of her soul in exchange for the gift of arcane power. Romira cocked an eyebrow at me and scoffed.
“Yes, but it’s not like he can help all that much. He’s a three-headed dog. Some of the Beasts can communicate, I’m sure, but Cerberus is all grunts and growls. He appeared to me to offer patronage, not the other way around.”
“What, like he just showed up in your apartment or something? Clouds of smoke and fire?”
“Basically, yes. Scared the shit out of me, but he got his point across. It’s hard to describe, but I guess it was like a sort of – emotional telepathy? I understood.”
Bastion sighed. “So, in short, you have no idea where your own patron is tethered? No way to communicate with him?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nope. It’s not like I’m in any hurry to see him again, you know. He’s kind of holding my soul for collateral. I’m not gonna lie, I’m more than a little wary of entities since then. I can fake being polite for the most part, but yeah.”
“Is it weird?” I asked. “You know, not having a soul.”
Romira tossed her hair and grinned. “I feel great, honestly. It’s not like someone pulling out your wisdom teeth. My soul’s still right here, in my body. I mean I might change my tune when it’s time to collect, but for now? I’m on top of the world.” She flashed a grin that stretched too wide, one with far too many teeth. I tried not to shudder.
“So,” she continued. “We’re going to have to decide who we consult, then pick up the right offerings for a communion. Maybe Prudence will have some ideas, too, just as soon as we get out of here and have a chance to ask her.”
Bastion cringed and sucked air in through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s assuming she makes it out alive.”
I followed his line of sight. Prudence and Madam Chien really did look like they were inches away from a brawl, their faces pressed so close together, standing on the balls of their feet. Then, out of nowhere, Madam Chien’s features softened, and she bent in to take Prudence’s hands. Prudence’s face fell immediately, her eyes filling with tears. Wordlessly, they hugged.
“What’s – what’s happening?” I muttered.
“Shh,” Bastion said. “Shut up. Shut up. They’re having a moment.”
“Aww,” Romira cooed.
“I’m only worried about you,” Madam Chien said.
“But you’re right. This affects all of us. I will let you know if I learn anything about the Beasts. Or the witch called Agatha Black.”
“Thank you, Grandma,” Prudence said. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
We helped Madam Chien close up shop, then were quickly rebuffed when we offered to accompany her home. She ambled off into the darkness alone. Muggers probably had way more to fear from her than the other way around. Prudence could break a man’s head open with one punch. Who knew what Madam Chien was capable of?
Prudence’s choice was Hecate, too. “It won’t be as dangerous as the first time, because she likes you now or something. Doesn’t she?”
I shrugged. “I guess. It’s just – I really haven’t heard from her in forever. And you know how she is, it’s like her mood changes depending on how the wind blows.”
Romira tapped at her phone. “It says here that she likes black ewes and dogs for sacrifices. Also honey.” She huffed. “Where are we supposed to find a dog to sacrifice this time of night?”
“No,” Bastion barked. “Not this shit again. We are not killing a puppy. Or a baby lamb.”
“Perhaps you won’t need to,” said a voice from the sidewalk.
The four of us started at the sound of it, Prudence’s fingers already crackling with pale blue fire. The voice had come from a sphere of golden light. I curled my fist, readying a fireball. Beside me, Romira was cupping her own handful of flame, and Bastion was already murmuring a spell in preparation. Mammon was back, and he was looking for a fight.
“Whoa, hey now,” the voice said. “There’s no need to get violent.”
Wait. That wasn’t Mammon’s voice, the velvet, sometimes sneering, sometimes simpering tones of the demon prince of greed. This voice was much more melodic and relaxed, like someone who could be a friend. No – like someone who could be a bro.
The light flickered, then began to fade, revealing the entity hidden behind the golden aura. There, wearing sun-kissed skin and white linen, like he’d just stepped off a yacht, stood the god of the sun. Beside him was his gaudy golden car, its engine gently rumbling.
