Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

“Aww, come on,” Sterling drawled.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll protect you.” His leather jacket squeaked as he flexed his bicep – or at least tried to.

“Don’t do that. You’re like a wet noodle dressed in leather. The vampire blood gives you crazy stupid strength, but you’re not fooling anyone with this bodybuilding routine.”

He flexed and squeaked again, ignoring me. “Been working out,” he grunted. “Gonna break some faces. Beat up some nerds on the beach.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled out my cellphone. “I’m calling us a car.”

Which, initially, was what I thought was responsible for the intense flare of light that blinded me just then. But it wasn’t some douchebag’s high beams, not just some passing motorist’s headlights. This light had a different quality to it, like gossamer. I guess I’d describe it as – silvery.

Oh. Shit.

“Sterling,” I shouted, raising my forearm to shield my eyes.

“I know,” he yelled back. “I recognize it from Mona’s concert. It’s back, whatever the fuck it is.”

A spell? Was this the Tome’s doing? Whatever had initiated the massacre at the warehouse was back to finish the job. But we were immune to its effects the last time.

“Dust,” Sterling mumbled. “It hurts.” I heard fear in his voice, and it made me panic. More than that, it made me angry. As arrogant, as bombastic as Sterling could be, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid.

But what the hell was I supposed to do? It was so uncanny, this massive blast of light, and so powerful that it felt suffocating. I could throw a fireball, but what the hell were we even fighting? Where would I even aim it? I could shadowstep, but the light was so intense that it blotted out all shadows.

Wait. This had happened once before, with Thea, when she’d blanketed the city in a choking mantle of pure, unearthly light. But it was impossible. The Eldest had taken her for a sacrifice. I saw them rope her through one of their gateways, swallowed by a rift into another dimension. It couldn’t be her. She was dead.

“Get behind me,” I shouted. I couldn’t think of anything else. Sterling’s shoes scraped against the asphalt as he got into position, using me as a shield. The light didn’t hurt me as much as it did him. Stranger still was the complete and utter silence. All I could hear was distant traffic, the soft rustle of the trees lining the street.

And then I heard it. A single word.

“Filth.”

Whatever it was – whoever it was – the voice came from somewhere close to the source of the light.

“Dust,” Sterling muttered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t move. I can’t see. Am I dying? God but I think I’m dying.”

No choice left. I wasn’t about to give up on Sterling. I reached into the Dark Room, the first time I would ever summon its blades and its monstrosities without even knowing where to direct them. I needed at least one shadow to work, but the light was so strong that I couldn’t even open my eyes.

I had to pray that the Dark Room would find the nearest shadows to emerge from, and I had to hope that the blades I summoned would be long, and hooked, and sharp enough to kill, or at least stop whatever was casting the light.

Then something tugged on me from behind, breaking my concentration. I almost sniped at Sterling, but I realized that it wasn’t him. His hands were on my jacket, clinging for dear life.

The tugging came from my backpack.

In the stillness of the night I felt my hairs move as something shot out of the pocket dimension I carried on my back, whistling and singing as it rocketed towards the silver light. In my mind’s eye, despite my blindness, I could see a blur of green and gold, the flash of garnets come gloriously back to life.

“Vanitas,” I breathed. “Welcome back.”

His voice echoed in my mind, a warm, familiar sound. “Good to be back,” he said, the calm of his words such very strange contrast to the violence of his actions. I still couldn’t see for the life of me, but something ahead of us had definitely let out a scream of pain.

“Stop it,” I said. “Kill it if you can.”

“I can’t see it,” Vanitas said. “Too bright. I’m doing what I can to scare it off.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Sterling said, his fingers hooked so tightly into my clothes that I thought he was about to rip them off. Vanitas sang through the air again, once, twice, and just as suddenly as it came, the silver light faded.

“Oh thank God,” Sterling muttered.

The world spun as I opened my eyes, but as things hovered back into focus, so did the two halves of Vanitas, sword and scabbard. How do you greet your sentient, animated sword bodyguard, companion, and friend after it comes back from death? Do you hug it? The hell if I know. But Vanitas’s state made it simple to make that decision. He had blood smeared on each of his parts, glistening as bright and red as his garnets.