Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

I picked out twenty bucks and slipped them between the bunny and the pig for the operator to find. Surely that was enough to cover the cost of one missing tiger.

With a little knock on the Dark Room, I melted back into the shadows, making a quick jaunt through its murky hallways before I reappeared under the tree, leaning against its bark, arms haughtily folded, my lips pursed smugly in triumph.

“I knew you could do it, you dirty sneak thief,” Sterling said, patting me on the back.

“What’d you get?” Asher asked, peering curiously at the lump under my jacket.

“This little guy,” I said, brandishing the tiger.

“That’s perfect,” Asher said approvingly. “I’m sure Herald will like that.”

“It’s for me,” I grunted, holding the stuffed tiger in both hands.

“Sure it is,” Sterling trilled, spitting out his lollipop stick and immediately replacing it with a cigarette.

I turned the tiger around to look at its scrunched little face. It was frowning at me. “Don’t judge me, you little jerk,” I muttered, as if expecting it to answer. But if the tiger could speak, it never got the chance.

A flash of white lit up the night, so powerful that it rendered me basically blind, even with my eyes downcast. I clutched my face, a horrible ringing in my ears, but this wasn’t happening in my head. People around me were gasping, some screaming in shock. And I hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was: the barely lingering sound of dissonant flutes, a distant, high-pitched keening. But after the initial burst of radiance, only silence.

Someone tugged on my jacket. I squeezed my eyes open and shut, then blinked rapidly, desperate for my vision to return. Things began to swim back into focus, and the first thing I saw was Asher’s face staring into mine.

“We’re okay,” he said. “It was just light.”

As my sight returned I caught a glimpse of Sterling huddling behind the very same tree I used to shadowstep. I wasn’t going to make fun of him for it. Sterling and bright light – sunlight, in particular – had a complicated relationship.

Some of the carnival-goers were heading for the exits, moving briskly, but cautiously. I caught snatches of conversation, hurried whispers. Someone mentioned an electrical problem, hence the flash of light. One very nervous-looking man ushered his children away, and I caught him breathily mutter a single word. “Terrorists.”

Most people seemed content to stay, probably figuring it was a temporary fluke, or maybe a part of the show. But even the staff working at Madam Babbage’s looked confused, disoriented by the strange display. A few mumbled into their walkie talkies as they glanced across the carnival grounds.

Something was definitely up. I had only one theory in mind, and I didn’t like the sound of things in my head already. White light was the trademark of the Eldest.

Prudence skittered up to us, Gil’s winnings already tucked into a huge plastic bag. Gil followed close behind. Both of their faces were creased with worry.

“Did you guys catch that?” Prudence asked, panting.

“It came from the parking lot,” Gil said.

I pulled my backpack closer to my body, glad that I’d decided to take Vanitas along for the night after all.

“Then that’s where we’re headed,” I said, my legs already carrying me towards the exits. The backs of my eyeballs still ached, frazzled by the strange white pulse, and the colorful bulbs festooning the carnival’s signs and displays looked hazier now, blurry halos of light dancing at their edges. Otherworldly. Wrong.

The five of us made it all the way out of the grounds, Sterling nervously bringing up the rear. I was walking full tilt and had to stop myself as we exited. The crowd that had left earlier was gathered there in thick clumps, panicked looks on their faces, some barking or sobbing into cellphones.

And from all around the parking lot wailed sirens, car alarms. No flash of light could have triggered that. Maybe an electrical pulse. Or worse. Far worse. I was still in denial.

“Not good,” I muttered to myself, muscling my way through. “This is not good.”

We finally cleared the crowd, and I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat when we saw the parking lot.

Rather, what was left of the parking lot.

It was a crater, all fissured cement and upturned earth. Pulverized cars sat in twisted heaps, smashed into the asphalt. It was as if some great hand had reached from out of the heavens, crushing the parking lot with the furious might of a gargantuan fist.

Prudence placed one hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. When I turned to look, her face was mournful, almost apologetic. When I spoke, I almost didn’t hear my own words.

“They’re back.”

Chapter 3