by Nazri Noor
“We need to stop her,” I muttered – to myself, to anyone within earshot.
“Go ahead and try,” Royce muttered back. “We’ll be happy to hose you off the lawn when you’re finished.”
Agatha’s ears pricked up, like a beast of prey hearing something important and delicious. Her eyes glazed over, staring into the distance of the evening sky. “Yes,” she intoned. “I obey.”
She lifted her head to the clouds. Like a rocket taking off, Agatha blasted into the sky, with a pulse of power so magnificent that it punctured a crater in the ground. The earth shook, a sonic boom splitting the air as she vanished into the encroaching darkness.
Luella fell to her knees, weeping. Bastion gathered her in his arms, whispering softly. “Mom. Please. I’m here. I’m right here.” She stroked his hair, but said nothing.
“We are fucked,” Royce whispered. “Royally and truly.”
Romira clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Between this and the Dark Room coming back? Gods know what will happen next.”
My gaze fell on the grass, the shame creeping back up my neck, until Herald’s hand fell there, squeezing.
“This isn’t your fault,” he said quietly. “Donovan, and Jonah – the Scion – they set you up.”
I nodded, mainly at the burnt grass, but said nothing.
“Chances are he won’t be going back to the Lorica,” Royce said. “Word will have spread by now. As much as the Heart has seen you as a threat, Dustin, there are still those who believe in justice. If the Donovan boy hadn’t stabbed you, none of this would have happened.”
“Still a bunch of nonsense to me,” Mason said, “but whatever’s out there, we can take it. Right guys?”
The silence was telling.
“Guys?” Mason waited for a response, then, getting nothing, shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not about to roll over and let these weirdoes take over the world or whatever it is they have planned for us, and – hey, who the hell is that?”
Again we whirled as one, following Mason’s finger as he pointed out someone approaching. My muscles thrummed with soreness, lethargy spreading through my blood as I remembered how long we’d been fighting. My body had already gone through so much, between the battle, the release, and the containment of the Dark Room. I couldn’t take anymore. I just wanted to retreat somewhere safe, and private, and quiet. I fought not to think of the Dark. I fought not to think of the Dark.
The interloper scrambled through the rubble of Brandt Manor’s grounds, negotiating the shattered remains of what used to be the helipad. I recognized the man’s pallor and gleaming leather outfit in an instant. It was Sterling. He stood there, looked around the compound, and blinked once.
“What the fuck did I miss?”
Chapter 35
“You knew all along, didn’t you? You knew it was there, and you said nothing.”
I looked guiltily away from Herald’s gaze, but I felt his eyes searing into me.
“I knew,” I said. “And I tried. God but I tried, but I couldn’t control it any longer.”
“I’m sorry,” Herald said. “I’m not trying to blame you for any of this. It isn’t your fault.”
I sighed, still believing, at least on some level, that it was.
“It isn’t the end of the world,” he said, giving me a tight smile, squeezing my hand. “Not if we have anything to say about it. You and me, right? Gonna save the world. Kill the bad guy. Send Mason to college.”
I frowned. “He’s not my kid, and therefore, not our kid. We need to drop this joke, it makes my skin crawl. Whatever happened to Mister Grumbles?”
Herald laughed heartily. “Mister Grumbles is highly intelligent, I’ll have you know, and is going to receive a full scholarship. He takes after me. We don’t need to worry about his college fund.”
I rolled my eyes, then tugged him towards the gardens by the Brandts’ indoor pool. If I got some food in Herald, maybe he’d shut up, at least long enough to choke down a hotdog.
It had been a day since the incident at Brandt Manor, and after a night’s rest – however many hours I could grab considering how much my brain was still whirling in bed – we decided to reconvene at the mansion. Team Boneyard and Team Lorica had agreed to meet to strategize about this new threat, and to attend the poolside barbecue that Bastion had promised Sterling. Luella needed the distraction, Bastion said. Hell, we all did.
An adjoining door leading out of the pool area went directly out to a section of the gardens, where Remington and Mama Rosa had set up a grill. It was odd seeing Remington in his chauffeur-slash-butler livery cooking up hotdogs, burgers, and other pedestrian treats, but he seemed to be enjoying Rosa’s company. It was hard to tell if he was ever smiling under his huge white mustache, but even to a casual observer, it was clear that the two of them were getting along just fine.
Herald wandered off to find some beers. In my search for something to stuff down my gullet, I locked eyes with Carver. He was dressed in a suit, as always, even though it was nearly ninety degrees out that night. I almost did a quick one-eighty, but it was too late. I felt as though things would be awkward after what had happened with my chest, with the Dark Room.
Carver had been nothing but understanding, cursing Jonah and Donovan under his breath as I explained. But it just felt different somehow, the dynamic, like I’d betrayed my friends, my own family. I hadn’t even gotten around to telling Dad what had happened yet. I wondered if I should. God, he’d be so pissed.
“It is fine, Dustin,” Carver said.
He didn’t need to use his false eye to look into my mind to know I was still bothered – not that I’d ever confirmed he could do that. But Carver had this talent for zeroing in on how I, or anyone else at the Boneyard felt, as good a father as anyone could have. For Asher, hell, even for Sterling, and now, for Mason, I thought it counted for a lot.
“I do not blame you either,” he said, patting me on the back. “There, there.”
I squinted at him. “You don’t have to do that.”
Carver kept patting me. “By my understanding, and from memory, this is how compassion is expressed, yes?”
“To a dog, maybe.”
“Yes,” Carver said, sighing. “I do wish we could have brought Banjo along, but I still need to put protections in place before I will feel safe allowing him out of the Boneyard, to properly hide him from the All-Father.”
We’d left Banjo in his bedroom – yes, the Boneyard designated the corgi an entire bedroom – and figured it couldn’t hurt for a couple of hours. I was positive that Carver would leave Brandt Manor at the soonest opportunity, though. He just couldn’t bear to be away from his new son for very long.
“Perhaps an enchanted collar,” Carver said, looking over the spread of snacks and dishes, perusing. He sighed again. “How Banjo would have loved this festival of sausages.”
I would have corrected Carver, but technically, he was right that time. I left him to his own devices, poking among the meats and cheeses. Mason bumped up against me, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as he worked on an impressive mouthful of burger. At least he was dressed sensibly: shorts and a tank top. Just right for the weather.
“Sup,” he managed to say.
“Not much,” I answered. “Probably going to grab one of those burgers. That looks good.”
“It is,” he said in a muffled voice, finally swallowing. He plopped his burger onto a paper plate, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I can grab you one if you like. You want cheese on yours?”
I shook my head and smiled. “You don’t have to, Mason. You’ve done enough.”
When he smiled back, it was genuine, beaming, without the characteristic snark or cockiness I’d come to expect. The sigils inscribed on his shoulders and chest even glowed just a little bit brighter.
“It’s Mace,” he said. “You can call me Mace.”
I grinned. “Then I will. Thanks again for saving me back there. Just yesterday, actually.”
&
nbsp; He shrugged. “You do what you do. You’re not a completely terrible person.” I flinched, but Mason smiled. “My dad thought you were worth saving. I figured there was a reason he gave you his life. In some twisted way, I wouldn’t be here if that hadn’t happened. I still wish I could have met him but – in a sense, he gave us both new lives.”
“Samyaza was a good guy.” I waved my hand vaguely around myself. “But I guess you’re kind of stuck with us now.”
Mace shook his head. “It’s nice to have friends. And you and me, we have the same blood running through our veins. Maybe there’s a reason for that. It counts for something.”
“If only certain people were more generous about their blood,” Sterling said, muscling his way into the conversation.
“Dude, I like you,” Mason said. “But you’re not making out with my neck.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
I chuckled. “Leave him alone, Sterling.”
“What, are the two of you friends now?”
“Fuck no,” Mason said.
Just as Sterling turned away, Mason winked at me and grinned. Then he walked off, probably to find something else to eat. I smiled. As far as angels went – or nephilim, in his case – Mace wasn’t all that bad.
“I forgive you,” Sterling said.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He blew out a puff of smoke, then rotated his hand at the wrist. “I’m trying to fast-forward this dumb conversation I don’t ever want to have with you. You’re feeling guilty about the Dark Room, even though it was that Donovan twerp who forced it out of you, and I don’t want to stand here watching you sulk like a baby all night. I forgive you. Nobody cares.”
Sterling could be harsh sometimes, and he was a constant pain in my behind, but I really could have hugged him then. That was my fear, exactly. I enjoyed the rush of power too much. This was my destiny, where I was meant to belong: in the Dark Room’s embrace. But for that moment, my destiny didn’t matter. I wasn’t villain or victim. I was just Dustin, and everything was okay.
“Hey,” Sterling said. “No worries. We’ll sort this out. We’re here to figure out how to tackle Luella’s mother, turn off the Eldest for good by whacking their champion. Maybe they don’t even need you anymore. Maybe you can even use the Dark Room without it being a problem.”
I shook my head, skeptical, but silently hopeful. “Maybe.”
Sterling threw his arm over my shoulder, his skin cold even through the thickness of his leather jacket. “We’ll sort this shit out, hey? Believe in yourself a little, you dickhead. Trust in Dustin.”
I smiled. It was a tiny one, but it was a start. Sterling guided me to the poolside, where everyone lingered. He ruffled my hair, then whispered in my ear before he slunk away – to hit on Luella Brandt, no doubt.
His message? Carpe noctem, of course. Seize the night. Because together, working and lurking in darkness, the boys of the Boneyard and our honorary allies at the Lorica – we could do anything. Conquer demons, burn angels, break the gods themselves.
I looked over the faces of my chosen family, old and new, whether our bonds were sealed by friendship or by blood. A lion is nothing without its pride. The universe could throw what it wanted at me, at us, and I would meet it with fangs and claws, with the mightiest roars I could muster.
Yet I couldn’t help wondering if they feared me, knowing that I could turn, that the Dark could consume my mind and my heart at any moment.
But Herald sidled up to me, handing me a frosty beer, pressing his forehead against mine for the briefest second. Let the worst come, I thought. For Herald, for my family, for everyone I loved, I would tear anything apart, set the world aflame.
I took a quick sip of beer, relishing the rush of cool bittersweetness as it bubbled across my tongue. I smiled to myself, then chuckled, my certainty, confidence, and intent tumbling out of me. Herald asked what was so funny. I shook my head, then laughed again.
In my heart, in my chest, in a voice very much like my own, the Dark Room laughed with me.
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 universes. 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.
