by Nazri Noor
Carver set down his coffee and scoffed. “Dragon or vampire, I’d say that this is much more a matter of ownership. Wouldn’t you all agree? If someone invades your home and steals something of value, you would want retribution.” He turned to me with a narrowed gaze. “Especially if it’s someone easily recognized, or easily found.”
His stare said it all. You’re both, Dustin. Both.
You know, I try not to dwell too much over the fact that I’m kind of famous – but for all the wrong reasons. Apparently very few people had heard of someone who could walk through shadows, or could summon them as bladed weapons in this reality. That was my gift, and word spread. Maybe that was how Salimah and Connor knew who to hunt down.
“But why me? You guys know I don’t go around stealing shit.”
“Except for that beer at the grocery the other week,” Gil said, avoiding my gaze.
“Or the pack of cigarettes from behind the counter at that one gas station,” Sterling said. “And I still don’t know how the hell you did it, but thanks for the freebie.”
“Okay, geez. Dustin has itchy fingers, I got it.” They were right, too. If I wasn’t on a mission, something inside me just wanted to nick stuff when it could, like a void that needed filling. “But back on topic. How the hell could someone who looks like me just walk around town stealing stuff?” My mouth fell open. “Unless – ”
Carver nodded. “Thea.”
My skin crawled. The mention of her name alone had that effect on me. Thea Morgana acted as my boss and mentor for as long as it benefited her, pretending to be my friend and ally. As it turned out, she was the one responsible for sacrificing me.
Some time back I thought I’d had the pleasure of killing her, by summoning just enough of the Dark Room’s living shadows to spear her through her torso. We discovered, too late, that she’d escaped justice – and death – yet again.
Oh. Does that seem too extreme? Let me put it this way. If someone tries to kill you – you, specifically – and you survive, you would want revenge. You would want justice. But considering everything that Thea had done to me, I was way past justice. I wanted her gone. If that meant dead, then so be it.
I grimaced. “I hate that you’re probably right. It could be Thea looking to stir shit up again. But why would she want the Heartstopper?”
“Remember that this was how they found you,” Carver said. “In a state of torpor. Everyone thought you dead. It’s possible that she’s found some other suitable victim to sacrifice, and that she wants to repeat the process. To preserve their corporeal form, for whatever reason.”
Gil leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Listen. You say this woman was a high-ranking member of the Lorica.”
He was right. For years Thea worked as a sorceress for the Lorica, the organization that governed North American magic and mages. She bade her time, masquerading as one of the good guys as she researched more ritual magic and grew in power. Thea was a highly intelligent and cunning person – if she could still be called a person – was what Gil was trying to say.
“She’s not going to try the same thing twice,” I said. “She’s too clever for that. There’s something else brewing, and I don’t like it.”
“Consider the possibility that she’s misdirecting,” Sterling said, offering a rare bit of insight. “How about that? And this is what’s worse. You guys say she’s good at glamours.”
“She tricked us all, remember?” Carver said. “None of us could sniff her out. Her power to bend the light and cast an illusion about herself is one thing, but to evade us the way she did? The woman wields powerful enchantments.”
In the form of jewelry similar to those Carver wore on his person, the amber gems adorning the rings on his fingers. It was one of those things I’d always promised I’d try to learn. Enchanting was an incredible discipline in itself. It took enormous amounts of time, effort, and magical power, but enchanted items are like the wearable tech of the arcane world. A ring that shoots fireballs, or turns you invisible, or summons burritos on command? Yes, please.
“Evasion and cloaking is one thing,” Sterling said. “But infiltration is another. As long as we’re sure we keep an eye on each other, and we know she can’t penetrate the Boneyard? Then we’re good.”
I blinked. “Wait. Sorry. Did I hear you right? I think you just called this place the Boneyard.”
Asher cleared his throat and reddened. “It’s nice to call it something other than just ‘home’ or ‘the hideout.’ I like it. We’ve got a vampire, a werewolf, a lich, and I’m a necromancer.” He gestured at me, smiling sheepishly. “And you use the shadows and the darkness. We’re like the good bad guys. Like, the undead, but decent undead, you know?”
“Isn’t that clever,” Carver said, with no hint of sarcasm whatsoever.
Asher sat up, his chest puffing out as he beamed. “Sterling and I talked about it,” he said. “Seemed like a good idea.”
I couldn’t help feeling left out.
Carver nodded, and smiled. “The Boneyard it is then.”
I gritted my teeth.
We were dismissed after that, sent off to do whatever we wanted. The Heartstopper being missing didn’t mean the end of the world, but this whole situation just reeked of Thea. Where she went, destruction followed. But if it really was her behind it, then how were we supposed to even track her down in the first place?
I had more questions. So many. Pressing matters I couldn’t discuss with the – with the members of the Boneyard. Damn it, Asher. It did sound cool. Ugh.
I headed to my room, shut the door, and took out my phone. It didn’t matter what I thought about the preferential treatment Asher was getting – we were all grateful for the gift of wifi. I looked up Herald Igarashi, then initiated a video call.
He picked up in three rings, appearing on the screen in his glasses and, from the upper half of his body that I could see, one of his typical outfits, which made him look very much like a stylish librarian. It worked out for him, anyway, the buttoned-up shirts, the ties, the vests. It looked like he was at home, for once. Guy worked too much.
A talented alchemist and a very competent sorcerer in his own right, Herald was an archivist for the Lorica. He was tasked with sorting, collecting, and cataloguing the strange and dangerous artifacts that passed through his section of the organization’s extensive Gallery. He also liked to mention that he was something of an amateur demonologist, but I wasn’t sure how that translated into what he did for a living, if it did at all.
“Sup,” I said.
“I am not going for brunch in this damn weather, Graves. And I’m up to my ears in lobster rolls. No more.”
“What? No, no, this is about something else. I needed to talk to someone who knows a lot about magic, but I can’t talk to Carver.”
“So you called me?” Herald straightened his posture. Flattery always worked, but hey, it was as honest as I could get without blowing smoke up his ass. Okay, too much smoke. I could tell he was restraining a grin. “Ask away.”
“How much do you know about glamours?”
Herald squinted a little, then pushed up his glasses as they started to slide down his nose. “Oh. That’s really advanced stuff, Dust. I know you’re chomping at the bit to learn more magic, and no offense, but you can’t even launch a fireball yet. Glamours are complex illusions. Even I can’t do them consistently.” He passed his hand over his face, his fingers trailing little violet skeins of magic. “I can change my eye color though. See?”
He bent closer to his phone. Damn right. His eyes were blue now. “Show-off,” I said, half fondly, and half in total, utter jealousy. He grinned, then blinked, and his eyes were back to brown.
“I’m curious, though. Humor me. Why are you suddenly interested in glamours? I know that Thea used a powerful one to impersonate someone long-term.” He frowned, looked off-camera, then back again. “Wait. Is this about her?”
I nodded. “Looks like someone’s impersonating me, or at
least they did to go and steal something called the Heartstop – ”
“The Heartstopper?” Herald’s face was practically pressed up against his phone now.
“So you know about it.”
He nodded. “Belongs to a powerful local blood witch. Used to preserve corpses. Shaped like a drop of blood. That Heartstopper, yes?”
“Exactly what Carver said.”
Herald clucked his tongue. “Can’t be good, dude. Whoever’s behind this, Thea or no, they’ve got to have a very specific reason for wanting the Heartstopper. And if they’re impersonating you, that’s just going to get you into heaps more trouble.”
I sighed. “I was kind of hoping you’d have some answers besides what Carver already told me, but here we are.”
“I’m flattered, Graves, but my huge brain can only process so much. We need backup. Someone with a stronger information network.” He rubbed his chin, then gave me a smile. “What are your thoughts on checking in with your eight-legged girlfriend?”
Chapter 3
“Now, normally, you can use anything to cast a circle. Maybe draw it in chalk, or even scatter a bunch of twigs in the right configuration, and you’ll have something worthy of calling an entity’s attention.”
Asher’s lips hung slightly parted as he absorbed Herald’s every word. I’d casually mentioned to Carver that I was going on a communion, and asked if I could take the kid with me. The answer was a vehement “No,” until I followed up and mentioned that Herald was coming. “Oh, that’s fine then.”
It was kind of telling that he didn’t trust me to babysit Asher on my own, but was perfectly happy to allow it with someone from the Lorica on the team. Carver might have seen something in Herald that night we all had dinner together, something almost resembling admiration. Whatever it was, I gotta say, it stung just the tiniest bit that he trusted Herald more than me.
But watching Herald carefully give instructions, I began to understand exactly why. We were in the same alley Thea had once brought me for my first communion, with Arachne, the very same entity the three of us were meaning to contact.
Asher was nodding enthusiastically at basically everything Herald said, in between sips of the frosty boba drink he had in his hand. Hey, it was a hot day. We needed to pick up the reagents for Arachne’s summoning, and there was this great bubble tea place in Little China called Happy Boba. Yes, the name isn’t lost on me. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they were owned by the same people as the Happy Cow.
“So again, use whatever you want to cast a circle. Personally I like to keep things convenient for myself.”
Herald snapped his fingers. Violet light pulsed from his hands, gathering into threads that snaked about his feet, drawing a flawless, glowing circle on the ground. Scratch that, it was multiple concentric circles arranged in perfect geometric symmetry, with eldritch symbols inscribed in appropriate places.
Asher gasped audibly, accentuating his wonder with a low, awe-inspired “Wow.”
I did my damnedest not to look quite as gobsmacked, but it was so, so fucking cool. Yet as hard as I was trying to keep my expression neutral, Herald was clearly doing very much the same, struggling to keep the smug little smirk from crawling across his face.
“That was so awesome,” Asher said. “I wish I could do that.”
“Soon,” Herald said, adjusting his glasses in what I interpreted as a very self-satisfied manner. “Your boss is extremely proficient. He’ll show you the ropes in due time. I mean, hey, if he could teach Dustin here how to light a spark – ”
“Hey. Wow. So rude. I’m still learning.”
“ – then surely Carver can teach you everything you need to know about becoming a proper mage. So. Now that your circle is cast, you need to have the offerings in place.” He slipped a fortune cookie out of its packet, crushing it in his fist and letting the crumbs fall into the circle. “And now the part that takes getting used to.”
Herald made a motion with his wrist, almost like he was unfolding an invisible butterfly knife, and then it appeared, a glowing purple blade the size and sharpness of a scalpel. Again my insides burbled with envy, until I realized that with practice, I could hone my power to weaponize the Dark Room’s shadows the exact same way. In time, I told myself. A step at a time.
Herald dragged the edge of his arcane blade across his finger. Asher winced. So did I. The blade was sharp as anything, drawing blood as soon as it made contact with Herald’s skin. He squeezed his finger, letting the blood drip into the circle. It sizzled and smoked as it hit the cement. Herald began to chant.
“You also need to incant,” I said to Asher softly, careful not to interrupt Herald. “It’s how you communicate your intent. Doesn’t really matter what you say, as long as you tell the entity through your conviction that you deserve an audience. It’s like a text message.”
Asher nodded eagerly, and we looked on as the little stenciled sigil in the brick wall that marked Arachne’s gateway began to spin. Within seconds it expanded into a shimmering portal of gossamer and gleaming silver. Herald sucked on his finger, then pushed his fists into his hips, admiring his work.
“Everyone pile in,” he said. “Time to meet Dust’s girlfriend.”
“Oh my God, she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Says you. I felt some resistance while I was incanting, but I casually mentioned that you were coming and the window of opportunity swung wide open.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She likes you, Dust. It’s something to keep in mind. The entities take care of their playthings.”
Playthings, he said. It made my skin crawl, remembering how that seemed to be the very dynamic the Eldest maintained with their servants. Stronger, older, and far more terrible than any of the entities of earth, all I knew of the Eldest was that they were bad, bad news, and that they warped those who served them in their image, like the shrikes, the shrieking, many-tentacled minions that made up their vast cosmic army. Or Thea herself, who grew more alien and insectoid each time I had the misfortune to encounter her.
I was about to enter the portal, this counting as my second official visit to Arachne’s domicile, when Asher skidded right in front of me, practically tangling his feet in his excitement to step through. He vanished among the swirling gossamer mists. I gave Herald a questioning look, but he just shrugged.
“Hey. I won’t fault the kid for his enthusiasm. That’s a good thing. Great foundation to build on for learning magic, and everything else there is to know about the arcane underground.”
“I’m enthusiastic, too.”
He gestured at the portal. “I believe you. Get in.”
I sighed and walked on through, not at all relishing the feeling of the portal somehow sticking to my clothes and hair and skin. The strands of energy made it feel very much like swimming through molasses, and the act of actually moving into the spider-queen’s realm was literally like walking through spiderwebs.
Herald followed not far behind, and Asher was already gawking at the bizarre, jade-green enormity of Arachne’s domicile. Great swathes of what looked like silk draped from the ceilings, moving gently in a light breeze that none of us could feel on our skin or hair.
Braziers of stone pulsed with sickly green light, the only illumination in a dimension so dark that all we could really see were the strange, silken curtains and the great stone dais where Arachne held audience. It looked very much the same as the last time I visited, though that still gave me no comfort. What was different this time was Arachne’s total absence.
I elbowed Herald in the ribs. “Where is she?” I hissed.
“Beats me,” Herald said, looking around cautiously, the ghoulish light reflecting on his glasses. “She responded to my summoning, which means she should be home.”
“This is so cool,” Asher said absently. “I love this place.”
A high, feminine voice tittered from somewhere in the unseeable ceiling far above us. “I am glad to hear it.”
The silks began to shiver, and o
ut of the silence trickled the sound of things skittering, of tiny mouths and pincers chittering in excitement. I balled my fists and stilled myself: they were coming.
Out of the corners and darkest recesses of Arachne’s domicile her children came pouring in their thousands and spindly millions, spiders of every shape and species crawling down the walls, over the dais, descending from the ceiling on fine strands of silk.
Among them was the great, heaving bulk of Arachne’s thorax, lowering from out of the high darkness, legs as thick and long as spears wavering as they negotiated her web. She moved headfirst, her hair and her veils brushing against the ground as she reached the floor and set her body upright. Arachne’s eight legs served as her throne on the dais, the slender and wickedly white pallor of her human torso gleaming an eerie green in her domicile’s jade-light.
“Herald Igarashi of the Lorica,” Arachne said, her head giving the slightest nod. She turned to me, the sharpness of her smile visible under the hem of her veil. “And my sweetling, the boy who walks through shadows.” Arachne tilted her head as she turned her attention towards Asher. “This one I do not know.”
“Asher Mayhew,” he said eagerly, one hand still wrapped around his extra large boba, the other holding out a plastic bag full of fortune cookies. “And here you go, ma’am.” He walked directly for her, approaching the dais without invitation or regard for etiquette. I would have panicked and said something if Arachne hadn’t laughed first.
“This one is so precocious, and trusting. How very sweet.”
Asher beamed widely. The fucker wasn’t afraid in the slightest, not of Arachne, and not of the millions of her young carpeting the walls and the floor. She turned towards me again, her grin a little sharper, a little eviler this time. “Perhaps I have found myself a new sweetling.”
I groaned. “Oh, come on. Not you too.”
Asher cocked his head, alarmed. “Sorry, what was that? What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing,” I said, just as one of Arachne’s legs darted out to collect the plastic bag from Asher’s outstretched hand. The huge bristles and pincer at the end of her legs brushed against Asher’s skin as she took away the cookies. He hardly flinched, still looking at me questioningly. The kid was either really dumb, or really brave, or both.
