Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

“Ouch,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “No, seriously, that stings on, like, a deep level for me.”

“People don’t just show up unannounced, Dust. I work for the Lorica. I see a blurry shape on the couch, of course I’m going to attack it. These are dangerous times, or maybe you haven’t noticed.”

I brought myself to his height, so that our eyes were level. I was only slightly taller than Herald, but something inside me was egging me on, making me unfurl myself to my full height. I came to apologize, I thought. But the defiance kept banging on the back of my skull.

“Maybe if you put on some glasses before resorting to violence, you wouldn’t end up almost maiming your friends.”

Herald scoffed at the word. “Friends.” He folded his arms across his chest, in a way that most definitely demonstrated that he had been lifting his fair share of weights. I swallowed and tried not to stare. “So. Why are you even here to begin with?”

I scratched the back of my neck, my gaze stuck to the floor. “I didn’t like how we left things back at the Boneyard. It didn’t feel right.”

Herald frowned harder, his body going tauter, his arms flexing even more. I wished he would have toweled himself off, because the sight of him a little damp like that was making this reconciliation business a lot harder than it should have been.

“So you came here with – what is that? A bunch of flowers that you stole from the lobby?”

I held up the flowers. “I thought you might like them. I thought they were pretty.” They fell limply over my knuckles, and I silently cursed them for crapping out on me in my time of need.

Herald chuckled, then shook his head. Okay. That was probably a good sign. Chuckling meant he was over the part about genuinely wanting to kill me.

“I don’t know what it is with you, Dust. You clearly haven’t figured yourself out, and I’m trying – trust me, I’m trying to be understanding here. But sometimes you say and you do things that send mixed signals. Scratch that. You do it all the time, and it’s frustrating. I don’t know where I stand, you know? And I always pride myself on being the smart one – ”

“Hey,” I grumbled.

“You know it’s true – I pride myself on being the smart one, and on my ability to be objective about this shit. But with you, it’s difficult. I can’t tell if you’re just joking sometimes, and it annoys the living shit out of me.”

He had a point. He had several good points, truthfully. I held out Mister Grumbles. “Well, this wasn’t a joke. And I know it’s stupid and juvenile, but it’d mean a lot to me if you would keep him.”

Herald’s eyes narrowed. “Again with the damn tiger.”

“His name,” I said evenly, “is Mister Grumbles.”

“Right,” Herald said, cradling Mister Grumbles at his hip, like it was an actual cat. “I accept your offering. But it’s been a long day, Graves. I want to get to bed, and you need to get out of here.”

“Okay,” I said, not quite realizing until that moment that we were stood a little too close to each other – so close that I could smell his shampoo, the soap on his skin.

I could feel the warmth radiating from his torso, too, but couldn’t tell if it was the leftover heat of the shower, or if Herald really did burn that hot. It always kind of weirded me out whenever Sterling would say that a good circulation system could be a wildly sexy quality in a person. I finally believed him.

My mouth dry, I forced myself to speak, injecting every last drop of bravado left in my body into one last push. “Hey, you know, I’ve been curious.”

Herald tilted his head. I watched as a bead of water dripped from a stray lock of hair down to his clavicle. “What’s that?” His voice was soft. Too soft.

I grinned out of the corner of my mouth. “What’s it like under the towel?”

Herald’s eyes darkened, but his smile remained – only it seemed crueler.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he growled. With a snap of his fingers, the door to his apartment unbolted itself and flew open. “Another stupid joke. I’m done.” Herald gestured again. I stumbled and spilled out into the hallway, as if shoved by an invisible hand.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I whined, clutching at the dull pain in my chest. “I was just kidding. I panicked.”

“Call me when you’ve figured your shit out. Good night, Dustin.” Herald snapped again, and the door slammed shut with a loud, heinous bang.

I massaged the back of my head for some moments, trying to process how I’d been trying to mess with him, but ended up being played myself. I had a feeling that parts of Herald were still mad at me, but other parts of him were softening as well. And that was a good thing.

Though perhaps softening wasn’t the right word. I grinned to myself, enjoying my stupid, private little joke, then turned to leave, only then noticing that the corridor was filled with heads poked out of doorways, drawn to the commotion.

“Oh,” I said. “He. Um. He’s had a bad day.”

Judgmental, knowing eyes squinted at me, but the doors closed as I passed. I hadn’t realize Herald’s neighbors – almost all of them Lorica employees – were so nosy. And it was the truth, really. He did sort of have a bad day, and I guess I was instrumental to causing it, at least in some small way.