by Nazri Noor
I rubbed my fingers into my temples. “I hate that I have no choices here. No way to really, properly decide on an outcome.”
“It is the way of the universe, after all.” Hecate sighed, shaking her head. “Very little is within your control. But what few decisions you do make, fleshling, will change the course of reality.”
I scoffed. “You mean about the world ending if I walk. Of the Eldest coming if I so much as consider sitting out a single fight. That’s not choice, Hecate. That’s inevitability.”
“No, no. There are other paths to choose. Other ways to influence your destiny, by improving your chances. That is, if you are willing to take matters into your own hands. To truly sacrifice everything.” She lifted her head, as if to impress the importance of things upon me. “Everything you love. Even your humanity.”
My blood went cold. “What do you even mean?”
She leaned forward, her nails digging into my skin, the smell of her breath like wilting flowers, like the pages of an old book. “It is the price of true power, fleshling. To leave the worldly behind, to become something other than human. To evolve beyond your limitations. To ascend.”
To ascend. I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.
“You told me to sell my soul to the Midnight Convocation, once. Remember? And that didn’t work out so well, did it?”
“And as you did then, you now still have the freedom of choice. Of whether or not to explore the paths we show you behind the mists.” Hecate rose slowly from the couch, the material of her robes spilling like dark water. “We are a supreme force of magic, Dustin Graves. Not of coercion. There are many, many paths to power. Will you stand at the crossroads, paralyzed by indecision?” She walked away from the couch, her body beginning to fade, leaving only her face and her Cheshire smile. “Or will you walk down one of those paths?”
She vanished completely before I could answer. The question wasn’t rhetorical, though. It didn’t matter to Hecate what I’d pick. All that mattered was her own satisfaction in seeing me struggle to find an answer, to choose. I knew I was being manipulated, in a sense, the way that the Dark Room liked to tug its own strings from within my chest, how it almost felt as if it had grown a kind of sentience. I did wonder how much or how little Hecate really cared, though.
It was strange, having such a capricious goddess for a fly-by-night, informal kind of mentor, one who reveled in seeing me grow in power, but who also seemed to have very little regard for my personal safety. That was her domain, after all: the supreme, unrelenting dominion of raw magic. Carver would sooner take his own life than encourage me down the path of lichdom, and the ritual of the Coven of One had turned Agatha Black into her own special kind of monster. But what did giving everything up even mean? What kind of sacrifice would Hecate have me make?
I slumped into the couch, too tired and too annoyed to head to my bedroom. Back to square one, I thought. Give up my humanity indeed. Ridiculous. That would never happen. I had too much to live for, too many that I loved and cared for. I reached for my phone, remembering that I’d meant to text Herald before the call from Dad and the visit from my scary godmother.
A phone call, I thought. He’d still be awake. I stretched myself out along the cushions, feeling my joints pop, my muscles unfurl. Hearing his phone ring, just the anticipation of talking to him made me smile. See, I valued that about myself, maybe more than anything. My humanity.
Give it up. As if.
That would never happen.
Chapter 20
Prepare, Carver said. So that was what I intended to do. My strength had never been in scrying or sensing, only in lucking out in battle with destructive magic, one way or another. I had to regain control of the Dark Room, bend it to my will once more, and not the other way around.
That explained why I’d found my way to the somewhat flattened peak of a grassy hill, just outside of Valero. It explained why I’d decided to sneak out of the Boneyard without telling anyone my destination, because I didn’t need another lecture from Carver about why I was tempting fate by playing with the shadows again.
It didn’t explain why I’d decided to go there with Bastion.
He stood across from me, on the opposite end of the hill, keeping warm in a leather jacket. Behind him the lights of Valero twinkled, a city asleep. A soft wind rushed over the hill, rustling the grass, sending up the sweet scent of nature and – and unfortunately, a small, enticing whiff of Bastion’s cologne.
I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out. Carver was right about Mason. He was young, inexperienced, and we couldn’t stand the risk of me injuring him in a more serious way. The wound on his cheek was only just starting to properly heal. Maybe the shadows really did have some bizarre, toxic property to them.
That, at least, was my main justification for texting Bastion and asking him to help me out. Again, no way to do that at the dojo in the Boneyard. Too many prying eyes, meddling hands. And I definitely didn’t want to practice with Herald, because I would never want to hurt him.
The implication, of course, was that in some perverted manner, I was perfectly happy to hurt Bastion.
“Fucking get on with it,” Bastion yelled from across the hill.
Especially when he said things like that.
“I told you,” I yelled back. “I’m conditioning myself. Gotta make sure I don’t end up killing you with the darkness.”
Bastion scoffed, grinning at me, his teeth sparkling even in the dark of night, practically glowing with the light of the moon. “I mean, you could try and kill me. Highly doubt it. Isn’t that why you called me out here? Because I’m good at defending myself?”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t like him calling out my thoughts like that, and I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say next. “Yeah,” I said, tapping into the Dark Room, knocking lightly on its door with one proverbial finger. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Bastion cracked his knuckles, his smile even wider. “Any other reason?”
“I told you,” I said through clenched teeth. “I needed a punching bag.”
“Then why not practice with Mason? Or Herald?”
I glowered at him. Was Bastion actually telepathic, and he never told us, or was I that transparent?
“Mason’s shields are imperfect. I could hurt him again. Same with Herald.”
“Oh,” Bastion said. “And you’re fine with hurting me? Kinky.”
“That’s not what this is about. You’re skilled enough to avoid being harmed. That’s it.”
Bastion paced closer, which still put us several feet apart, but I backed away nonetheless. “I’m skilled at other things, too.”
“That’s it,” I murmured. I flicked my wrist, hissing with the mingled pain and pleasure as a long, black shaft of pure night extended from the palm of my hand. Bastion liked to boast so much. I just hoped he was strong enough to fend off Nightmare.
But barely five minutes into sparring, Bastion had parried every single strike with his bare hands. Granted, each of those hands was protected by a sturdy invisible arcane shield, but still. Either I was terrible at this swordsmanship thing, or – nah, I had to face facts. I wasn’t very good at it. And the more frustrated I got –
“Damn it,” I grunted, as I whiffed another slash with Nightmare. Bastion countered by striking me in the stomach, which hurts a hell of a lot more when someone’s fist is magically enhanced, I’ll tell you that. I doubled over, gasped for breath, and charged again.
I couldn’t explain to you how he did it, exactly, but Bastion didn’t just parry this time. He somehow managed to land me flat on my ass, too, tackling me to the ground by checking me with his shoulder. I stayed there, panting, the grass cool against my back as I stared up at the stars. As they always did in my imagination, the stars laughed down at me.
My connection to the Dark Room faltered, then petered out. Nightmare vanished into my skin, into the darkness, leaving only traces of blood dribbling down my palm, my fingers.
<
br /> “Come on,” Bastion said, offering me his hand. I accepted grudgingly with my other, unbloodied hand, straining back onto my feet as he tugged. I dusted off the seat of my pants, blades of grass catching against my skin.
“The problem with you is that you let your emotions get to you. And you’re too damn single-minded. It’s either, or. Shadow magic, or fire.”
I cocked my eyebrow at him. “What’s your damn point, Brandt?”
“Why not both?” he said, shrugging mockingly. Then, he added in badly mangled Spanish: “Porque no los dos?”
“I don’t understand,” I said, digging around in my pockets for a handkerchief, a piece of tissue, anything to dab away the blood already cooling on my skin.
“Watch this,” Bastion said. He held up one hand, his eyes vaguely staring at the air above his palm. Within seconds, with an extravagant whoosh, a ball of flame burst into existence.
“What the – you can do that, too?”
“How did you think I became a Scion?”
“Power, and being an asshole. You said so yourself.”
“Very cute,” Bastion said. “I mean, I’ve got a little bit of a grasp on basic elemental magic. Nothing huge. But I prefer my natural talents for obvious reasons. It’s what I’m good at. Why reinvent the wheel?”
I gazed at the perfect sphere of fire in his hand enviously. Kind of wasn’t fair, in my opinion, to be handsome, rich, and crazy talented at magic all at once, but Bastion was a special breed of mage.
Not as special as Herald, a voice in my head said. Of course not, I spat back. I scratched my hair, annoyed that I even had to remind myself, annoyed that some part of me could even begin to imagine that I would ever think less of Herald.
“Now watch this,” Bastion said, in the voice of a teenager about to show off some sick trick at the skate park.
A faint shimmer in the air around the fire showed that he’d contained the flames in a globe of his telekinetic energy. The fire burned on. As strong as Bastion’s shields were, I’d always known that they were still slightly porous, at least enough to let oxygen in. Otherwise he’d have killed as many people as he’d protected with his own force fields.
No, what was strange was how the fire inside the glassy globe not only continued to burn, but glowed even brighter, like it was growing even stronger.
“The hell is happening?” I murmured, leaning in for a closer look.
“I’ve contained the flames in this tiny space,” he said. “But I’m also feeding the fire with more arcane energy – so much of it that my power can barely hold it all. Now watch.”
Bastion pointed out a large rock. He spun on his heels and threw the globe directly at it – which promptly exploded into a fiery pillar roughly the size of a small tree.
“Holy shit,” I muttered.
“If you build up enough pyrokinetic energy in a compact space,” Bastion said, smirking to himself, “you can also learn to release it all at once. So instead of throwing fireball after fireball, you’re dumping all that magic into one convenient little package. An arcane grenade.”
The flames continued to burn, dying down steadily, but spreading in a slow pattern around the boulder as the fire sought out drier patches of grass. Bastion sauntered over with all the calm of a trained professional, then extended one hand, spraying a small cone of what looked like frost over the fire, promptly putting it out.
Yeah. So it wasn’t nepotism that put Bastion up on top as a Scion, but pure, raw talent. The guy could do way more than build shields out of thin air. I mean, that grenade trick was more than a little awesome.
And he looked pretty damn handsome doing it, too, the voice in my head said.
Shut up, I told myself. Shut the fuck up.
Chapter 21
“I’m not entirely sure how this helps me. So you’re saying I should combine the two things I’m good at?” I snorted. “And what, make shadowfire?”
Bastion shrugged, as if nothing I had said was out of the ordinary. “Why the hell not?”
“I’m not even sure how I would combine those two things. That’s like asking me to write with both hands at the same time. I’ve never tried.”
Bastion tapped the side of his nose. “That’s exactly it, then. Time to give things a shot, stupid.”
“That’s dumb,” I said. I squinted at him, frowning. “You’re dumb.”
“Totally uncalled for.”
Ten minutes in and I still hadn’t figured out what Bastion wanted from me. In terms of learning something new, I mean. The shadows didn’t have the same properties as his fine control of occult telekinesis. How the hell was I supposed to contain fire in – man, it sounds stupid just thinking it – in a shadow?
I was frustrated by then, and also exceedingly hot. I’d showered that day, but I was keenly aware of the fact that the quickly failing sparring session was making me a sweatier, slightly smellier version of myself. Still handsome, though.
And Bastion had to run around putting out the little fires I was inevitably lighting all over the hilltop. I mean I was aiming for him, mostly, so that my flames could safely dissipate against his shields, but everyone misses sometimes, you know?
I guess I missed a lot. Bastion had shucked the leather jacket by the time he’d run to extinguish the third smallish grass fire. By then the most successful thing I’d done was call out a sharpened extension of shadow while I was holding a fireball in my hand. The result? Both of them snuffed out and disappeared into nothing.
“Time out,” Bastion said, gripping his knees and panting. “I’m going to pass out if I have to spend any more magic putting out your stupid fires.”
“Don’t be such an ass,” I said. “I’m trying my damn best.”
Bastion hooked his hands under the hem of his shirt. “God, and it’s so hot, too.”
“N-no it’s not,” I said, despite very palpably feeling the sweat on my back turn cold.
“Too hot.”
He just yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the grass somewhere near his jacket. Yeah, he was definitely hot. Sorry, I meant sweaty. You know what? Never mind.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s it. We’re done here.”
Bastion scratched his bare stomach, like he was deliberately trying to get me to look there. Damn it. “I’m giving you this opportunity to learn, Dust. In ways that you can’t with the Boneyard. What, you think there are just shortcuts to this kind of thing?”
“There are,” I said, cautiously backing away, matching each of Bastion’s steps as he approached me. “Carver went through lichdom. And your grandmother, with the Coven of One.”
Bastion stopped in his tracks. “You can’t be seriously considering any of that bullshit. That’s why we’re here, me and the others. To help you.”
“She came to me,” I blurted out. “Hecate. She said she heard me thinking about her, all those conversations we must have had about seeing her, me worrying about dealing with Odin, with Agatha. She says there are other ways, beyond even lichdom and the ritual of thirteen. I’m – I don’t know what to do.”
“Well it isn’t that,” Bastion said. “Not what she’s suggesting, not if it means you’ll lose – God, what would even be left of you?”
I shrugged, staring at the grass. “That was the implication. Access to real, intense magic means sacrifice, one way or another. All those people Carver and Agatha killed to gain their power, or even Romira giving up her soul for patronage.”
“You always have a choice,” Bastion said, his voice suddenly nearer. I hadn’t noticed how close he had come. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils.
“I do,” I said, stumbling away. “And I know this has nothing to do with what we’re talking about, but – I choose Herald. Chose him from the beginning.”
Bastion’s muscles tensed. “What does that even mean?” he said, forcing a chuckle.
I threw my hands up. “What’s even happening here, Bastion? You’ve been weird. Since I got together with Herald,
you’ve been acting, I don’t know. Different. Maybe even a little predatory.”
He flinched, then scowled at me. “That’s a little overboard, don’t you think? I’m just like this when – when I.” His chest expanded as he took a deep breath, then he sighed. “God, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. I have a hard time dealing with situations where I don’t get what I want.”
The sweat clinging to my skin somehow felt colder, even as an unwelcome thrill of excitement burned in my chest. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
He shook his head, saying nothing.
“So all that time you were an ass to me, ever since I joined the Lorica. That’s you being a kindergartener, pulling my hair and being mean because you didn’t know how else to express things?”
He threw his hands up, frowning. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I’m new to all this shit. Never even been in a relationship.”
“You’re joking.” I stood there with my jaw on the ground. Sebastion Brandt, single since birth? It was difficult to process.
He shook his head, the peaks of his ears redder as he stared at the ground, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. “I became a Scion because I always knew that was my destiny. Since before I was born, I was meant to rise to the top. That’s not even the pride talking. It’s who I was meant to be.” He reached for the back of his head, scratching awkwardly as he locked eyes with me. “But I also wanted to get there so I’d have more clout when it came to the Heart. To actually be influential in the Lorica’s leadership, have any kind of effect on the decisions they made.” He lowered his head again, mumbling his next words. “Maybe I sort of did it because I wanted to protect you from them.”
I thought my jaw couldn’t drop any lower. The breath came rushing out of me. The wind seemed to have gotten weaker, the grass on the hilltop gone still. I stared out at the lights of Valero, in some ways wishing I could be anywhere else.
