Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

Asher shrugged. “Seems like it. You did everything right, didn’t you?”

“Must have,” I muttered. “I feel like drained. Like something’s been sucked out of me.”

I let my arms drop to my sides, sore from being held in the same position for so long. Mom’s amulet looked mostly unchanged, but I could sense the difference in its aura. Part of me belonged to it now, the same way that part of the amulet would always dwell in my soul.

“Well if that’s done,” Dad said, scooping up his fallen beer bottle, then heading to the kitchen for paper towels, “then we’ve got something to discuss.”

“Dad,” I groaned. “Please. Not now. I can’t do this.”

He stalked back, went down on his knees, and began mopping up the spilled liquid. “Oh, so you can basically kill yourself half to death working on this – this thing that killed your mother, but you can’t have a conversation with your own father about it?”

Asher sat perfectly still on the floor, trapped in the trajectory of Norman’s death glare.

“Dad. Please. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s the best bet we have for keeping the world safe.”

“You don’t owe them that,” he bellowed. “You don’t owe anyone anything.” The wet towels fell limply from his fingers, and he approached me, coaxing me from the rug by the shoulders. I was ready to shout back, to fight – but his eyes were wet. “You don’t owe them your life, Dust. I lost your mother to this bullshit. I’m not losing you, too.”

I forced myself to smile, biting back my own tears. “I’m not going to die,” I said through a chuckle, somehow believing my own lie. “It’s going to be okay.”

Dad’s fingers dug deep into my shoulders, pushing against my clavicles. “Promise me things will be okay. You can’t be the only thing standing between us and those fucking monsters you call the Eldest. Promise you won’t end up dead.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but couldn’t speak.

“Dustin Nathaniel Graves,” he said, his voice shaking. “Promise me.”

“I – I’ll do my best,” I said.

“Not good enough, Dust.”

Asher cleared his throat, pushing himself up off the floor. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But there’s one last thing Carver asked me to do. It’s kind of why I’m here.”

Dad and I turned to him, suddenly aware that we weren’t alone. Neither of us was ashamed by the emotional display, though. This was Asher. He probably empathized better than anyone could.

“There’s another component to this enchantment, but it doesn’t have anything to do with the Eldest,” Asher said. “It’s more of a – well, a personal touch, I guess. Since it’s an artifact now, and it’s tied to you, it seems to be the perfect vessel.”

“A vessel?” I gently eased myself out of Dad’s hands. “For what, exactly?”

Asher bit his lip, unsure of how to answer. “You know how I still get to talk to my mom? How the shade of her still lingers with me?”

My spine stiffened. “Yeah. What about it?”

Asher sighed. “Since that day at Latham’s Cross, seeing you at your mom’s grave – I understand, Dust. And Norman. I understand what it means to lose someone, to want them back so badly. And being there so close to her headstone, to the last thing tying her to this earth? I felt echoes of her. She’s moved on, like my mom has.” He pressed his hands together, almost afraid. “But I can let you see her again.”

My heart stopped. I hadn’t realized before, but Dad’s hand was on mine, too, his palm rough, his fingers clenched.

“You can do that?” he breathed.

Asher nodded, a tight smile on his lips. “But only with your permission. Only if you want to. This is something so personal, but – I feel her even here. I felt her at the graveyard. It wouldn’t be too much of a drain on me.”

Dad looked at me, his eyes hard. We didn’t need to speak to seal the agreement. We both wanted this, badly.

“Do it,” I said. “Please.”

“Right,” Asher said. “Right.”

We said nothing more, only watching Asher as he walked a circle around Dad’s house, his fingers gliding across the furniture, prodding lightly at the photos of our family. Once, he stopped, holding up a specific picture of the three of us at the beach. I must have been twelve years old.

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