by Nazri Noor
Vanitas stayed silent as he witnessed the coming rush of destruction. Other Dustin whimpered. The White Mother screamed, and screamed, yet the shadows would not obey her.
But I knew that they would obey me. I gave them the simplest suggestion, hardly even a command.
“Feed.”
The White Mother screamed ever louder, the piercing, shrill howls of the shrikes blending with her suffering, an unholy dirge. And Other Dustin sobbed, the light of the Crown flickering as it went dead, the flames he was so desperately summoning between his fingers guttering out as the shadows came to claim the largest bounty of blood I had ever delivered to them.
Still on my knees, my hands both wrapped around Vanitas’s hilt, I watched through the darkness as the shadows slashed and fed on the White Mother’s yowling, quivering bulk, as they tore the shrikes apart. I couldn’t even imagine what they were doing to the homunculus. Vanitas said nothing, but I could taste his emotions in the back of my mind. It was a strange, dizzying mix of many things: of fear, of satisfaction, and pride.
The screaming finally stopped. I rose to my feet, one of my soles still bloody, and I grasped Vanitas loosely in the fingers of my right hand. For once he didn’t complain about being held. He knew the circumstances were extraordinary. This wasn’t a fight, after all, but an act familiar to him as one of the Eldest’s star-metal instruments. This was ceremonial magic, a true ritual, an offering to the Dark Room itself. It was a sacrifice.
My feet met with cold wetness as I approached what was left of Yelzebereth. The black sludge beneath me was a mix of her own alien blood and the remains of her shrike children. Huddled among the viscera, cradling the severed head of his beloved White Mother, was the homunculus.
I severed the connection to the Dark Room, and slowly the features of the forest beyond Valero took shape around us. What I’d removed from our reality the Dark Room returned in its defeated, destroyed form, and everything it had consumed – the shrikes, the blood, the desiccated husk that was once the White Mother – reappeared in the forest clearing. From around us I heard gasps. Someone very loudly vomited.
Vanitas hovered away from me as I released him, and with bare feet and bare chest both smeared and caked with my own blood I approached the homunculus. I knelt, and I took his shuddering, weeping body in my arms.
“Let go,” I said. “She’s gone now.”
With black eyes, weeping warm, wet tears that could have been almost human, Other Dustin released Yelzebereth’s head, letting it fall among the torn remains of her ruined carcass. It was strange, how much the homunculus was mourning. It made me think of my own mother, of how her murder at Thea’s hands was the very catalyst that had brought me to this exact place in my life.
“Nothing,” Other Dustin murmured. “I have nothing. The White Mother is gone.”
I wondered, for a moment, if he meant Thea, if he was confusing one mother for the other. “Do you think that the White Mother created you? Was it this creature, or was it the woman who made you in the graveyard?”
Other Dustin wept, and choked, grimacing. I looked down, only then noticing the severity of his injuries. The Dark Room had gone lightly on him, but that really wasn’t saying much. He was going to bleed to death soon enough.
“Doesn’t matter,” the homunculus sobbed. “Nothing left. You were always the lucky one. Always the best.”
I shushed him, still not understanding why any part of me was giving him pity. “Not the best,” I whispered. “I was only the first.” I stroked his hair, my palm meeting with matted blood, with sweat gone cold.
“You should have worn the Crown,” the homunculus said. “You deserve the power. Because they will come. Our fathers and mothers. The Old Ones. And they will keep coming.”
“I know they will,” I said. “And I’ll be here to stop them.”
Other Dustin smiled weakly, his skin seeming to go paler with each breath. “If you can.” His lashes fluttered as he searched the sky for something I couldn’t see. His eyes were like the smoothest onyx, like black mirrors. I could see the stars in them. “What now, brother? Nothing left for me.”
“Now, you can rest,” I said. “You’ll never have to fight again.”
The homunculus blinked, fresh tears running down his cheeks, washing through streaks of drying blood. “Was I good? Was mother proud of me?”
I held him tight, close to my chest.
“You were perfect,” I muttered.
I beckoned to the Dark Room, and again it obeyed. Blades of pure, solid night burst from every wound in my body, skewering the homunculus like an iron maiden. He croaked, his throat gurgling, and he shuddered against me, but I held him tighter.
Other Dustin died slowly in my embrace. I held my brother until every breath had left him. The life ebbed from his body, his blood dripping down the spines of the Dark Room, running thick against my skin.
It felt warm. It felt familiar. It felt like home.
Chapter 34
“And he defeated them?” The man with the beaded dreadlocks paced up and down the clearing, his face twisted with disbelief. He thrust a finger out at me, hardly restraining a grimace, as if he was pointing at a slab of day-old meat. “This one?”
Old habits die hard. I clenched my fists, thrust my chest out, and turned up my lip. “Yeah. Me. I did it. With my friends. No thanks to you Scions and your precious Heart.”
The ring of people gathered around me muttered to each other, aghast, but here and there I caught flashes of teeth as some of the Scions grinned in apparent amusement. I scowled at them all regardless, straining to memorize their faces, but it was no use. Their features kept shifting, the way that Hecate’s would. Clever. All of the Scions were wearing an unusual sort of glamour to hide their true faces, perhaps in some effort to shroud the true nature of the Heart and of the Lorica’s leadership.
Royce and Odessa got in touch with the Heart when the battle ended, and the Scions arrived even faster than their Wings did. They’d surrounded us at the glade, only letting the others leave the circle they had formed after they identified me. The shadow mage, they called me, like they already knew who I was. I did have a dossier at the Lorica, after all.
Hi. I’m Dustin Graves, and I’m a celebrity.
“I didn’t think he’d be so scrawny,” one Scion whispered to another.
“Rude,” I mumbled, folding my arms across my chest and shaking my head. “So disrespectful.”
Apparently the Heart only wanted to know the details of how I’d actually killed Yelzebereth and Other Dustin. It still hadn’t truly settled in for me, the fact that I’d destroyed one of the Eldest. I’d killed a primordial being that was as powerful – no, more powerful than a god. As the Scions prattled on, I gazed up at the stars, wondering what they thought of me. God-slayer, they seemed to whisper.
I thought it had a nice ring to it.
The grilling didn’t take all that long, and I was let out of the circle to rejoin the others soon enough. Herald and Asher took turns to heal my wounds, but especially the one I’d gashed into my foot. It really stung to walk, and while casting the circle seemed like a good idea at the time, I didn’t like that I was leaving so much DNA all over the place. Not very hygienic, let’s be honest, and super incriminating.
One by one my friends and allies gathered in the clearing disappeared. Bastion just wanted to go back to bed, and Romira looked completely done with everything. She stood with her fingers splayed out, aghast. “I’ve got shrike all over my shoes. I’m going to need nine showers to get rid of this. Minimum.”
Royce hung around for the cleanup, and while we didn’t exchange words after the battle, I made a mental note to buy him a beer at some point. Okay, fine, maybe a nice bottle of whiskey, too. He did try to warn me after all, and he did help out. A lot. I didn’t believe that I could think of him as a friend just yet, but calling him an ally was a start.
Gil and Prudence had wandered off earlier, and Carver had teleported himself home almost
as soon as the Heart had shown up. The Lorica had plenty of reasons to be more lenient about the Boneyard’s activities, considering how much work we were inadvertently doing for them.
Still, I knew that Carver distrusted them. I did catch the look of triumph on his face when the gathered Scions finally spotted the White Mother’s remains, though. Vindication. I felt the same way, too. Maybe now the Lorica would sit up and pay attention. Our next objective was to get the entities to see things the same way, too.
And speaking of which – not a peep out of Nyx the entire night. She must have felt the connection sever when Other Dustin had died. It was his soul that tethered them together, after all, but with him dead and gone, Nyx still had what she wanted. A profitable exchange that weighed heavily in her favor, in all. The Crown of Stars had disappeared, too, probably returned to the Midnight Convocation, to await a new champion, someone worthy enough to wear it.
As for the lock of Nyx’s hair, I was kind of surprised that Arachne hadn’t been more demanding about taking it from me. Maybe she wanted me to ferry it over directly to her domicile. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to heading into her lair – not when she was probably still pissed at me – but if it was the first step to getting back on her good side, I was more than happy to swallow my fear. I mean pride. Okay, both.
“Here,” Sterling said, materializing out of the undergrowth. I jerked away, but tried not to act too surprised. The only thing stealthier than me at the Boneyard was our vampire. He would have made a fantastic Hound. Sterling held a weird lump of something out towards me, nodding. “It’s your shirt. I went back to grab it.”
“Hey, that’s really cool of you, Sterling.” I liked that shirt a lot, too. Nice and soft. I grasped it in a bundle in one hand, my lips pressed together. “But I can’t exactly put it on right now.” I looked down at my blood-stained torso and gave myself a cursory sniff. “I look like a cannibal.”
Asher snorted. “You look like you ate a cannibal.”
I chuckled. “So Sterling, basically.”
Sterling held a finger up. “That’s prejudiced. You’re a jerk.” He tipped his head up to the sky. “Sun’s coming up soon, so I guess I won’t be coming with. You guys go ahead.” He nudged Asher in the ribs. “Bring a slice of pie home for me.”
“Sure, sure,” Asher said, waving him off. “Get out of here. I don’t wanna see you getting barbecued by the sun. So gross.”
“Douchebag,” Sterling said, taking off into the bushes.
Asher cupped his hands around his mouth. “And you’re an asshole,” he called out.
Herald shook his head and tutted. “You guys are weird.” He traced his finger in a circle. “All of you at the Boneyard.”
“Listen. Igarashi. You’re way meaner to me than Asher and Sterling could ever be to each other.”
Asher stuffed his hands back into his jacket pockets, then smiled broadly at the two of us. He elbowed Herald in the ribs. “It’s just tough love. Right, Herald?”
“Yeah,” Herald said, nudging his glasses up his face. “S-sure.”
“I hate this,” I muttered, scratching at my chest. “I feel super gross. And it’s cold, too.”
Herald frowned. “We’ll hose you down or something. I’ll loan you my jacket. We’re about the same size anyway. Big deal. Listen. You can come with us, and we can pretend that for a blip in time, things in our lives can be totally normal. No mad elder gods from outer space, no blood sacrifices to be made.”
I twisted my shoe in the dirt, biting my lip.
“Quit pouting,” Herald growled. “Your other option is to shadowstep home to the Boneyard and mope all on your own, and Asher and I will drink terrible coffee and grab some of that pecan pie that received a five-star review from an actual goddess.” He folded his arms. “So. Which will it be, Graves?”
I wrinkled my nose, trying to get rid of an itch. “I can borrow your jacket? Really?”
“Just make sure it’s nice and clean when you give it back.”
The diner was a fair distance away from where we defeated the White Mother. The original plan was to hang out there and get some pie after I acquired the Crown of Stars. The guys figured I’d need a little cheering up after I gave up my soul, but as we all know, things don’t necessarily go quite as planned in our world.
To my surprise, the diner had a small complement of early morning customers already huddled over the counter, regulars, by the looks of it. Either the Lorica had already sent Mouths there to wipe their minds clean, or no one in the diner had taken notice of the huge pulsating white rift in the woods.
Or the massive beam of crimson light sent to destroy that rift, or any of the other exceedingly noisy and flashy things we’d done to yet again prevent the world’s wanton destruction. I peered into the restaurant, only just catching sight of a pair of men in black suits disappearing into thin air. Aha. A Wing and a Mouth, most likely. Mind wipes it was, then.
Asher and Herald did as they promised, mercilessly spraying me clean from a pipe behind the diner. I didn’t know that Herald could manipulate water, too, blasting me with a powerful, freezing-cold jet that could have ripped my skin off. But that’s all that ice is anyway, isn’t it? Water in a solid state.
I dried my clothes and my body off by gathering a smoldering, low-temperature clump of fire in my hand and passing it over myself. Got me nice and toasty, too. I put on my shirt, then the jacket Herald promised.
And fine, Herald was right. I didn’t think of the Eldest for at least the entire span of time we spent at the diner. A couple of hours was a welcome reprieve from the fucked up reality of what my life had become, and I was glad I had Asher and Herald to keep me company.
For two hours, we were just three guys in a diner, cracking terrible jokes and talking video games as the sun lazily picked its way over the treetops. A little shaft of sunlight struck our table, the first real sign of warmth after a cold, wet night.
And okay, the pie was amazing, too.
We took the long way into town. Sure, we could have called for a rideshare, but it was a nice day out. Plus at that point I felt that safety wasn’t that much of a concern anymore, considering the battle we’d just gone through, and, not to brag, considering the amount of arcane firepower we carried between the three of us.
I guess I wanted to be sure I’d be dead tired by the time we got home. I didn’t want to think anymore. I just wanted to throw myself into bed and sleep for, oh, maybe three consecutive days. But my legs were aching, the sole of my foot still sore despite healing magic closing it up. By the time we made it to Herald’s apartment, I felt just about ready to call it a day.
“We’ll see you around,” I said, clapping him by the shoulder. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to wash your jacket for you.”
He stood back, tilting his head to appraise me, then shrugged. “Actually, you know what? It suits you. Keep it.”
I mean, I won’t lie. It was comfy, and I looked good in it. Then again, I look good in everything. Right? Right. Plus it was a gift from Herald. I wasn’t going to say no. I puffed my chest out, grinning. “Thanks, man.”
Herald stepped into Parkway Heights’s lobby, scratched the back of his neck, waved a last goodbye, then slipped into an elevator.
“I kind of feel like the third wheel here, but I really wanted to stick around for that pie.” Asher scratched the tip of his nose. “So. Where to now?”
I shrugged. “Home, I guess.” I reached for my phone. “Let me call a car.”
“Or,” Asher said, placing his hand on mine, lowering my phone back into my pocket. “Or, we could take the express train through the Dark Room.”
“Sorry, I must have misheard you.” I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it around. “You can’t be serious.”
Asher lifted his hand to mime tugging on an invisible chain, then grinned. “Toot, toot.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “After what happened in the forest? The Dark Room betrayed me. You aren’
t scared at all?”
He shrugged. “Hey, maybe that’s why I’m curious. You seemed a little scared back there, too. Maybe that’s an even better reason for us to give it a shot. Exposure therapy, you know?”
I narrowed my eyes, squinting at him warily.
“And if you think I’m bothered at all about, you know.” He waved his finger around my general head and torso area. “All this? About you constantly being seconds away from turning into a murderous psycho? I’m not worried at all.”
“Oh. Sure.” I folded my arms. “You aren’t?”
“Not a little. Double-edged sword, you know? It all comes down to how you use your power, and I’m pretty sure you have an even stronger hold over it now.”
I could barely see anything from squinting so hard at Asher, but he just stood there on the sidewalk, beaming at me. Most days it comforted me to know that this deceptively vacant man-boy formed the emotional backbone of the Boneyard, how he was basically a living, breathing pep talk.
“Come on,” he said. “What’s that you’re always saying when you’re about to do something stupid? Always asking us to trust in Dustin. Pssh.” He chucked me on the shoulder. “Dust. When are you going to trust yourself?”
I pressed my lips together, but the idiot was right. “Damn it, Asher.”
He smiled even harder, his grin as bright as the sun. “Come on,” he said. “Under this tree. Is this shadow big enough?”
I ruffled my hair, chuckling. The kid wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Yeah, that should be about right.”
“Okay,” he said. “Quick. While no one’s looking.”
I sighed and stepped into position, placing my feet squarely in the center of the tree’s shadow. Asher was right. It was terrifying, seeing my command over the Dark Room waver, having it ripped away from me. But knowing that I could win it back brought me some small comfort.
