Blood Pact (Darkling Mage 7)

“A feast. A big and proper feast. I’m talking entire roasted animals here. Great wine. The best stuff, too, all served on the best silverware you can find.”

“Silverware is just cutlery, right?” I said, rubbing my chin. “Unless you mean – ”

“That’s right. Silver plates, silver cups, at a minimum. Even better if you can spring for gold, but hey, moon goddess, she’ll probably be cool with silver. Probably.”

“This sounds expensive,” I said. “And difficult.”

Apollo shrugged. “It is. Hey, you’re looking for loopholes, this is it.”

Sterling threw an arm over my shoulder, an oddly possessive gesture, but at least it seemed like he was warming up to the conversation, if not to Apollo himself.

“So what, you’re saying we need to lug all of that over to her tether? Sneaking ourselves in is one thing, but how do you expect us to smuggle a whole roasted pig into the Nicola Arboretum? Among other things.”

“Ah,” Apollo said, sticking his hands on his hips, somehow even prouder than before. “That’s why you need me. Call on me when you perform the summoning – consecrate the circle, and present the offering, just like you would at any communion – and I’ll be there. If she senses my essence, she’ll come running.”

Apollo stood there with this goofy-ass grin on his face. He was so damn happy with himself, positively radiant. No, I mean literally. He needed to stop glowing or someone was going to notice.

Sterling nudged me. “So we can do it from inside the Boneyard? Have Banjo ready and everything. That way no one has to be in danger.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why are you helping us? Hell, why are you talking to us out in the open like this? Seems brutally dangerous for an entity.”

Apollo laughed, his chest heaving. “Where my chariot goes, a portion of my domicile follows.” He backed up a couple of feet, resting one hand firmly over the car’s roof, the way Sterling had his arm around my shoulder. “There. Unkillable. Mostly. As for why I’m helping?” He shrugged, his grin positively twinkling. “Maybe I’m just a really great guy, is all.”

I frowned. “So basically, you’ll be wanting us to return the favor.”

“Just you, Dustin Graves,” Apollo said, fishing something out of his shirt pocket. A business card, it looked like, held between two fingers. “If you take my bargain – oh, who am I kidding, when you take my bargain? Give me a call.”

I reached over, taking the cream-colored card. It was embossed with a symbol of the sun, its rays angular like bolts of lightning. Along the bottom was Apollo’s phone number. He was one of those entities, then, unafraid of a little technology. I tucked the card away in one of my pockets.

“We’ll give you a call,” I said. “Maybe.”

When Apollo laughed again, the night lit up with a sudden flare of sunlight. Sterling cringed.

“I’ll be waiting, Dustin. Can’t wait to meet the rest of your friends.” The night brightened just a little bit more when he grinned. “And your little dog, too.”

I grimaced. “I give up. How the hell does everyone know about the dog?”

Apollo chuckled. “How indeed. There are eyes and ears everywhere, Dustin. I’m personally more curious about the nephilim.”

My heart clenched, but before I could say anything, Apollo and his chariot vanished.

Chapter 26

Hot water poured down my back, washing some of the grime of the evening away, sending it swirling down the drain. I soaped myself off, careful to hit all the important spots – under each arm, behind the ears, between the legs, back and front, thanks very much – because let me tell you, routine can go all to hell when you’ve got a lot on your mind. I had to stop myself from putting facial wash in my hair, twice.

What was on my mind, you wonder? Oh, not much. An exploding dog. A half human, half angel hybrid. Twin deities of the sun and moon, one playing hot, the other cold. Plus a demon prince of hell, and somewhere, lurking in the darkness, a rogue Hound of the Lorica.

How did this all connect? And whatever happened to Delilah Ramsey and her Society of Robes? I needed to check with Bastion on that. I rinsed myself off, muttering Bastion’s name to myself, over and over, just so I wouldn’t forget about asking.

I reached for my phone by the sink as soon as I got out of the shower, the towel barely clinging to my hips, my thumbs hovering over the screen. I hesitated. See, I didn’t think sending a text message at three in the morning was the nicest thing to do. Sounded like a booty call, you know? Not that I’d ever thought of Bastion that way. Not until that weird staring thing he did by the pool.

No. Hush, stop that.

And some questions just led to even more questions. Apollo, for example. What did he really want? Was he working with Amaterasu? The less contact I had with the Japanese pantheon, frankly, the better. I still wasn’t over Izanami’s betrayal, and Apollo’s membership in the Conclave of the Sun suggested very unpleasant possibilities.

But he was offering a direct line to Artemis. What choice did we have? I’d have to talk things out with the boys, check with Carver on what kind of budget we could af

ford for figuring out what the hell Banjo was, and why everybody wanted him. And Mason, for that matter.