“I get it, Bastion. I just had to check on the grimoire first.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Whatever for? I made sure it was fine, and it’s fine.” The corner of his mouth lifted, how it always did when he got into one of his taunting moods. “Oh. Of course. You just wanted a chance to check in on your imaginary friend, didn’t you?”
I hid my cough by forcing down another swig of my coffee. “I don’t know what you mean.” I hated it when Bastion successfully zeroed in on my tender little weak spots, and that was exactly what he had done.
“It’s just a busted old sword, Dusty.” Man, I especially hated it when he called me Dusty. Bastion’s grin grew wider, enough that I could see both rows of his irritatingly perfect teeth. “I know you think that the two of you went on a little adventure, but honestly. It was just your imagination.” He winked, and I fought to keep a straight face as my insides burned.
Bastion could be such an asshole. I opened my mouth to say so when, further down the corridor, someone’s head poked around the corner. I went rigid. The Lorica stuck to its own rules and rituals, sure, but at the end of the day, it was still an organization, as close to a corporation as the magical world could get. There was no room in a professional setting for on-the-job altercations, especially not when Thea was watching.
She cleared her throat, and even from that distance Bastion knew to be on his best behavior as well. His posture went ramrod straight, and he leaned against the nearest wall in a quick attempt to look nonchalant, suddenly so interested in his fingernails. Thea cocked her head, her short, insanely stylish crop of hair staying put as she did, then quirked her lips in the direction of her office.
“About time, Dustin,” she said. “Come on. I need you in my office. Now.”
Chapter 4
Quiet. That was the first word that came to mind each time I went into Thea’s office. The other was immaculate. Kind of hard to avoid that association since the entire room – generally, even Thea’s clothing – would be stark white.
I hadn’t stepped into many executive offices around HQ, but I’d come to understand that they were allowed to decorate as they pleased, their spaces becoming reflections of their inner selves. Kind of gave new meaning to interior decorating considering how Thea’s office looked absolutely nothing like the corridors outside. There weren’t any fires in there either, just little suspended globes of what looked like sunlight. Also, everything smelled of sandalwood.
I drained my coffee as fast as I could, gulping it down in three mouthfuls, because when your boss asks you to take a seat on the white leather chair perched on the white throw rug right across from her fully translucent plexiglass desk, you do everything in your power to avoid spilling things. Coffee, blood, hell, any speck of color would be out of place there. Thea kept things so tidy and pristine that her workspace was essentially what an archangel’s office might look like.
That was the sort of presence and authority she commanded, too. She folded her hands together on her desk, watching me closely, and smiling, but for all the warmth in her lips, all I could see was a lioness. Her eyes studied me with the intense, almost uncomfortable keenness of a predator, and her coif of neat, closely-cropped blonde hair could serve as either a mane, or a halo. Throw all that into a stylish ivory pantsuit and a collection of enchanted opalescent jewelry and you’d have a decent picture of the woman I worked for, this creature that I at once admired and, I hoped, not-so-obviously feared.
“So,” she said. “Things are not great.”
I nodded. “Kind of an understatement.”
“Which is why we need to shore up our defenses, even on a personal level.” She placed her hands flat on the table, then leaned forward. “Time for you to learn about communing with the entities.”
“Entities?” The hair at my nape bristled. “You mean gods?”
She pursed her lips, her gaze thoughtful. “I suppose that works, but not all entities are gods. It’s a blanket name we use for all sorts of powerful beings that coexist with us.”
“Gotta admit, I didn’t even know they existed before last night.”
“In retrospect, I should have briefed you about them earlier. I just never thought it would come up so soon in your time with the Lorica. But consider it part of your training.” She steepled her hands together, resting her chin on the points of her fingers.
“Many of the creatures and deities you’ve read about in myth, even the monsters and demons and spirits, a lot of their stories persist for a reason. Some of them have always just been around. Others were manifested into being, because even the nonmagical, normal human mind has a funny way of being able to create things out of thin air if it believes strongly enough.”
“And they just exist?” I moved my hand in a circle. “Like, just around us.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. And speaking of speaking, it’s time you learned to communicate with them. Commune, even. The entities are useful for a lot of things, mainly gathering information, but sometimes one might like you enough to grant you a boon. A physical gift, maybe, or they might even lend you a bit of their power.”
My eyes widened. “I thought you said that sharpening our specialties or learning more magic were the only ways to make real progress.”
“Well, that, and making the right friends. Even if those friends are ancient demigods and cacodemons. As in real life, there are shortcuts for everything, and as in real life, sometimes it’s not what you know. It’s who you know.”
Her eyes flitted, and she rested her chin in her hand. “But there are caveats. I wonder if I should tell you.” She paused for thought, then cleared her throat. “Well, yes. All right. So you take the deities and supernatural creatures, and broadly, the Lorica classifies them all as entities. And they run the gamut from inconsequential – smaller, less significant spirits – to completely terrifying. We’re talking heads of pantheons here, archdemons, the great beasts: the All-Father, the Trimurti, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Tiamat. The very biggest kahunas. But theoretically, the most powerful beings of all surpass the entities. You don’t want to get mixed up in all that. There is a class of them that aren’t found in mythology. They’re stranger, stronger, more vicious, worse than the entities in every way.”
I hadn’t realized my mouth was hanging open, and I made sure to shut it. Just some time back I hadn’t even known that magic existed, and then this? I was starting to understand why Thea kept some of it from me. Learning everything about the Veil all at once would have completely fractured my mind.
“The Eldest,” Thea said, her voice a quiet mix of fear and reverence, “are older, greater than all the gods of the earth. And they have no concept, no understanding of humanity. The gods of myth, demons, all the rest, they’re clearly rooted in the human experience. Look at the Greek pantheon, especially. They live, they love, they fight, they die. The Eldest are nothing like that. They’re primal forces, fundamental to the universe, and their only instinct is to edge ever closer to domination, whether that power comes from breeding madness, or mayhem, or slaughter. The entities cannot possibly compare.”
I finally swallowed. “Right,” I said hoarsely. “Entities can be good or bad, but the Oldest – ”
“The Eldest,” Thea corrected. “Yes. They’re worse still. And best not to bring it up again. I only wanted you to be aware that they existed. Oh, but another thing. Unrelated.”
She leaned forward again, her head lowering towards her desk, like she had something conspiratorial to share. I mirrored her posture, bending in closer. “We probably don’t want you gallivanting out on your own for a little while. You found the Pruitt corpses and the god Resheph, after all. Whoever wanted them dead might find out about you.”