Midnight's Son (Darkling Mage 5)

“He can teach us,” I said, glancing hopefully at Carver. “To close the rifts. Can’t you?”

He looked over us, his lips pressed tightly together. “I am not so certain anymore. The incantation is more complex than I thought.” He turned over his shoulder, grimacing at the horrible, gelatinous mass of leathery black bodies the dead shrikes had left behind. “And then there is this problem.”

Right. And that was just inside Bastion’s force field. The Lorica would have to clean up the mess, and then they would still have to deal with the panicked normals who had seen us disappear.

“On it,” Prudence said, her ear already pressed to her phone. “I’m calling Royce. Bastion, keep the barrier up until then.”

Bastion nodded. I cocked an eyebrow. “Wait. I thought Royce was telepathic.”

She cocked an eyebrow back. “Like hell am I going to let him inside my head. I know better than that.” Her eyes unfocused, then

she held up one finger. “Royce? Yeah. We need backup. Oh, yeah. Big old cleanup. Nasty one. Normals were involved, so send some Mouths, too.”

The Lorica would deal with cleaning up the mess, but it wasn’t like they’d want us guys from the Boneyard hanging around. Prudence and the others would vouch for us helping to shut down the rift, but the Lorica would sooner lift the Veil than admit that we did our share of mopping up the mess. Not that we’d want to get involved in all that menial work, frankly.

No. Our problem was clear: figuring out the source of this clusterfuck. Carver was standing over by where the rift had vanished, arms folded tight, tapping his foot impatiently.

“This is messed up,” I said. “How do we even begin to deal with this?”

Carver frowned at thin air, as if willing the rift’s dissipated energy to give him some kind of clue.

“This cannot be happening spontaneously. The Eldest still require anchors in our reality to open the rifts, to enable them to step through. Their priests, their worshippers.” He scoffed. “Would you believe that this isn’t even the worst of it? It is when the Old Ones no longer need their minions to open the doors that we will truly need to worry.”

That was some shit I didn’t need to hear just then. The one thing keeping the Eldest away from the world was the imperceptible wall between our reality and wherever it was that they dwelled. If they could break that wall down whenever they wanted –

“Okay,” I said, shoving my thoughts straight out of my head. “So what you’re saying is that someone is doing this on purpose. Summoning the shrikes, tearing the rifts open from this side.”

“Correct,” Carver said. “There are certain rituals that must be performed. Prayers, if you will think of them that way, but they are functionally spells that weaken the barriers between worlds and enable the servants of the Eldest to intrude, even for a short while. I have access to some of these spells, from – from my time as their servant.”

I frowned. “How the hell are we supposed to stop them from doing that? These people could be anywhere. Everywhere.”

“The way that you seem to be everywhere yourself, Dustin Graves. Sowing chaos, stirring up mayhem.”

The words grated at my nerves, as did the voice that delivered them. I frowned even harder, turning on my heel to face Royce, who had seemingly popped up out of nowhere. Such was his nature, anyway, as a Wing, a teleporter for the Lorica. But I kept in mind that he was a Mouth, too, someone who could manipulate thought, and that combination of talents made him a Scion – a high-ranking sorcerer, and a formidable one at that.

“Nice to see you again, Royce,” I said, my raised chin and folded arms showing that I was thinking the exact opposite. My eyes flitted down to his thigh, to where I’d stabbed him with the Null Dagger. “How’s your leg? Healing up nicely?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in irritation, but the tic passed, as did his momentary annoyance. He grinned, the brashness pumping through his blood once more.

“Back in full operation, thanks for asking,” he said smoothly. “In much the same way that you’re back to your usual shenanigans, Graves. Figures we’d find you here. Where trouble goes, you follow.” He folded his arms and tilted his head. “Or is it the other way around?”

Royce said this with all the pomp and arrogance of someone only barely able to pretend that I hadn’t stuck a knife deep in his thigh just weeks ago. I clenched my teeth. My turn to be frustrated. Sure, the Lorica did its job of policing the country’s magical people and activities, but where were they all those times that me and the Boneyard saved the world?

Where was Royce when we had to stop a mad angel’s plan to kill every mundane human on the planet? That’s right: unconscious on the grody carpeted floor of some office, because I’d knocked him out and left him that way. Okay, okay, bad example.

Prudence, Herald, and the others watched us cautiously. The Boneyard was already in the precarious position of being frienemies with the Lorica, and there was only so much anyone could do to bail me out of trouble if I let my anger take over and socked a Lorica official straight in the teeth. I bit back the worst of it, swallowing my pride as more Wings and Mouths from the Lorica popped into existence around us.

“Listen, Royce,” I said. “Let’s cut the chitchat. We don’t want any trouble with the Lorica. We’re all friends here.”

“Are we, though?” Asher stepped in front of me, putting his body between myself and Royce. Wow. Protective much? I admit, it was kind of flattering. “I don’t know him, Dust.” He sniffed, glanced at me, then poked his thumb over his shoulder. “Who’s this asshole?”

Just past Asher’s head, Royce’s face twisted into a sneer. I could have hugged Asher right then. He was normally so docile, and so friendly with basically every person he’d ever met, maybe the side effect of being locked up in a death cult’s communal house for ages. Long story.

But this only proved that Royce was definitely a grade A jerk: if someone as sweet as Asher could hate him, then it clearly wasn’t a case of overreaction on my part. It just meant that Royce was a douche. No, a mega douche.

“He’s with the Lorica,” I said. “But not, like, the fun part of the Lorica. Tried to arrest me and shit. Got in the way when I was trying to stop that angel from destroying the world. Carver and Sterling were there, didn’t they tell you?”

Asher’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I remember now. Sterling said he screamed his head off when you stuck that knife in him.”