Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

“Not Herald.” I muscled him out of the way so harshly that he stumbled. “Never Herald.”

“Killing yourself isn’t the way either,” he snarled. “What guarantee do we have that it’ll even work? You die, then we achieve nothing.” His hands dropped to his sides, the anger streaming out of him in one long, shuddering breath. “Then I have nothing.”

“What selfishness,” Izanami said. “To believe that your puny lives are worth those of the millions that would be extinguished if the Old Ones were to enter our realm.”

“I’m not killing Herald.”

“And I’m not letting Dustin kill himself, either.”

The wicked tips of Izanami’s fingernails grazed her bottom lip as she regarded us thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side. “Whoever said that either of you had to die? I am here to make a proposition. I am a goddess of death, after all.” She waved her fingers, trails of faint, green light following the tips of her nails as she gestured. “I can bend the rules, just a little.”

“Enough with the puzzles,” I said. “If it’s not us, then who do you want for your sacrifice?”

I froze just as soon as I finished speaking. Silently I willed Izanami to say anything else, but voicelessly she answered, extending her finger towards my neck.

“No,” I said. “Not her. Please.”

“It is a concession,” Izanami hissed. “Do you understand, mortal? This is not even a life that I am claiming. Not truly. Your mother is dead. This is only a simulacrum. Outside, your friends and colleagues are dying, their bodies torn apart by the children of the Eldest, their very spirits ravaged by the Overthroat’s horrible song. All I ask is for you to surrender the image of your mother. The memory. You’ve lived perfectly fine all this time without her in your life. Do you truly need her at your side after all? Is it not crueler to hang on to her like a keepsake?”

My

knees gave way beneath me as I crumpled to the floor. I looked up at Herald, waiting for him to say something, anything. But it wasn’t fair to ask that of him. This wasn’t his choice to make, and whatever he said would have just made him the bad guy. He watched me sadly, his lips pressed tightly together. He offered me his hand, and I took it. I guess that was all I needed.

“We only just found each other again,” I said. “We were going to hang out together. Talk about our lives. I was going to get to know her, finally. And Dad, he was so happy.” I looked around myself, lost. “Dad. He’s going to be crushed.”

“Yes,” Izanami said. “Crushed. Now weigh your parental sorrows against the mourning of a world pulverized by the might of the Eldest. The answer is clear.”

The amulet at my throat warmed, its garnet eye glimmering with crimson light. Without prompting, the enchantment had activated itself. Beside me, Herald gasped softly as the amulet rewrote the specter of Diana Graves into existence, right there in the Dark Room, starting with her feet, moving upward like an image revealed on a ghostly projector.

Mom appeared with her hands clasped, her hair somehow longer, or looser than how I’d only just seen it, hanging low and drooped, like her shoulders. A strange smile lingered on her lips.

“So, I guess this is goodbye,” she sighed. “Funny. I always thought I’d have something a lot cooler prepared for something like this, but I guess not.”

My heart clenched when I thought that her shade was already blurring out of reality, but I realized it was only my tears. One slipped down my cheek, grazing the cut that Vanitas had left there. It stung, but knowing of my family’s impending loss hurt so much more. This was like having her die all over again.

“Am I doing the right thing, Mom?” I wiped my sleeve against my face, embarrassed to be seen blubbering, to be such a kid. But who else could you do this with? Who else would let you break apart, and hold you, and put you back together?

Her image wavered as she knelt, her spirit imbued with enough strength that I could feel her fingers trailing against my hair, her hand pressing on the back of my neck. “You’ve always obsessed with right and wrong, you know. Since you were a kid. And you never were perfect. You never had to be, Dust. All your dad and I expected from you was to try.” She pulled herself back, the cool skin of her fingers lifting my chin. I gazed into her eyes, mirrors of my own. They were wet, too. “And you’ve tried so much, Dust. You’ve tried so very, very hard. I couldn’t be prouder.”

My insides wrenched, and I couldn’t say anything back, only sob. As much as I hated her, Izanami was right. I was holding on to an image, just an echo of someone I loved. It wasn’t right to have her in a box on my dresser, to look at whenever I felt like it. This wasn’t just a picture, or a memento. It was the essence of my mother. Asher had the purest of intentions, but even then, somewhere on the inside, I knew it was wrong to keep her to myself this way.

I had to hope that Dad would forgive me.

Mom lifted her head, a tear slipping down her cheek as she smiled at Herald. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one his dad was talking about,” she said. “You seem like a perfectly lovely young man. You take care of my idiot son here. Make sure he eats his vegetables.”

I didn’t turn to look, but Herald made a sound somewhere between a sniff and a “Yes, ma’am.” Was he crying, too?

“Make sure he doesn’t do silly things to get himself hurt,” Mom said, softer this time. “He has so much more to do. You always had so much to do, Dust. And I want you to follow your heart. Do all of it. All of the things. Be the very best human you can be.”

“Mom?” I panicked. This was goodbye. Her specter was trailing away from me, as if being slowly pulled in by the portals.

“Tell your father not to drink so much damn beer,” she said, wagging a finger. “And to cut down on red meat. It’s not helping his blood pressure.”

“Not yet, Mom, please.” I knew I was on the verge of wailing, my voice cracked. I didn’t care. I didn’t want her gone yet. The world could burn.

“I’ll always be with you, Dust,” she said, her smile fond and sad. Her fingers were still laced with mine, the rest of her body floating in midair, pulled relentlessly by the rifts, which had begun to spin faster, harder. “But now you have to let go.”

Never, a voice inside me said, cold, defiant.