Shadow Magic (Darkling Mage 1)

It’s not like magic was common knowledge in Valero, or the rest of California, the US, the world, for that matter. We still took pains to keep the wool pulled over the eyes of the everyday joe, the regular folk. The normals.

A small team worked on cleaning up and removing Resheph’s remains, because an oversized half human, half rodent was precisely the sort of thing we couldn’t have the normals finding in the late Pruitts’ household. A woman waved her hands and muttered over the Book of Plagues which had woken up and was angrier than ever, pages ruffling at an aggravated pace. I was pretty sure I could hear the thing growling from where I stood.

And where I stood was the very fringes of the scene. As a Hound, I was good at finding things, seeking stuff out for the Lorica. The rest of the work was best handled by specialists, the way things worked in the normal world. Get the right person for the job. Which is why I found myself wondering why the hell Bastion was even there to begin with.

“Heard you almost threw up,” he said, nudging me with one elbow. I grunted in annoyance.

I couldn’t stand the guy, with his fringe of impossibly perfect blond hair, eyes that seemed intent on reminding me how much better he was, and a smile designed to charm those he desired and infuriate just about everyone else.

Sebastion Brandt, known to a precious few as Seb, but to most everyone else as Bastion, was one of the Lorica’s most talented and most trusted Hands. Everything about his behavior and body language seemed designed specifically to remind everyone that he was at the top of the heap. I mean, I’m a little cocky, I’ll admit, but you’ve never met Bastion.

“Never seen a dead body, huh?” From someone else, that could have been phrased as a genuine, sympathetic question. Out of the sneering grin on Bastion’s lips, it was nothing less than a taunt. I just shook my head, eyes focused on everything but his face.

“Oh, leave him alone, Bastion.” The voice came from behind me, and I’m not embarrassed to admit that the mere sound of it made Bastion’s presence – no, his very existence just that little bit more bearable.

“He’s a newbie,” the voice continued.

The strong but gentle fingers attached to said voice rubbed me by the shoulder, and I confess, maybe I warmed a little at the gesture. It wasn’t like Prudence Leung to be very touchy, and I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of friends at the Lorica, so I took every morsel of kindness I could get. She patted me on the shoulder, then stepped up beside me, arms folded, lips curved in an empathetic smile.

“You spoil him too much,” Bastion said, eyes darkening.

“No she doesn’t,” I said.

Prudence chuckled, her eyes glittering as she did, her teeth sparkling. Okay, so maybe they didn’t, but she was the kind of pretty that was so disarming that it made you feel like you were watching a shampoo commercial, the kind that made you forget you were standing just feet away from some mangled corpses and several liters of blood.

She ran a hand through her hair, which stopped just short of her shoulder. I was drawn to her fingers, because they were lovely, sure, but also because Prudence was probably the most literal version of a Hand there was.

Like I said, everyone at the Lorica was especially good at something, and that something could get extremely specific. One lady at the scene was using her talent to make the plague-god’s body disappear. Whether she was only making it invisible or actually disintegrating the corpse into its basest components, I couldn’t really tell.

Bastion could move things without touching them, like telekinesis, which made him crazy useful for all sorts of purposes, but especially combat. As much as I loathed the guy, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a car being tossed through the air.

Prudence was a skilled martial artist, but that wasn’t her gift. I wasn’t sure which came first, but her magic complimented the way she fought, because she could concentrate blasts of energy into her strikes. There’s nothing quite like watching your coworker punch a hole right through concrete. It’s terrifying, and for reasons I can’t explain, kind of sexy.

“You’re too nice to him. He needs toughening up. Gets bratty because he knows he’s mommy’s special boy.” Bastion flicked his finger at my pendant, the opal dangling from the leather thong at my neck. “A Hound. He’s a good little doggie, isn’t he? Thea’s got him on a leash.”

“Quit it,” I growled. Bastion was enough of a jerk without all this intrusion into my personal space, and all those damn jokes about how I was my boss’s lackey. It wasn’t my fault that she trusted me and liked me because I was good at my job. Thea was a good boss, so I tried to be a good worker.

Prudence frowned. “Honestly, Bastion. There’s a line between teasing and outright bullying. Don’t call him a dog.”

“Oh come on, Prue.” Bastion threw his hands up. “He’s a Hound. That’s his actual job title. You know what? Forget it.” He stalked away in a huff, stomping in the direction of the Book of Plagues.

“You’ll get used to him.”

I sighed. “I’ve been with you guys nearly a month now. How much longer?”

Prudence just laughed.

“Why is he even here anyway?”

She pointed at the grimoire. Bastion had his hands above it, and the book had stopped its writhing once more. “Suppression is a polite way to put it. Who knows what that book can do?”

I thought back to how I had attempted to taunt the grimoire earlier, and chuckled nervously. “Yeah. Who knows?” I cleared my throat. “How about you?”

“Oh, just supervising. Plus it’s good to have a surplus of Hands around anyway, in case something goes down.” She bent in closer. “You never know. The killer might still be hanging around.”

“I wonder how this even happened to begin with. Who would want to kill a god?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”