Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

“Do you remember how you died?”

“The first time? Barely. But I vaguely recall something piercing my heart.”

I sat still. That was macabre, and frankly too similar to what had happened to rouse my latent magical abilities. I wondered if he had also been a victim of ritual sacrifice. It definitely fit in with what we knew of the star-metal weapons that carried the taint of the Eldest. Part of me regretted asking. The other part burned with incandescent curiosity.

“That’s all I remember of my first death. When I truly stopped being human. But if you’re talking about when Thea killed me?”

&n

bsp; I sat stock-still, waiting for Vanitas to continue.

“My soul has been in this sword for centuries, but I still remember what it means to be human. How it felt. When she broke me – it felt like someone was crushing every single bone in my body. All at once.” The garnets in his hilt dimmed, then pulsed again. “I remember the pain.”

It hurt to open my mouth. My lips had gone dry. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Vanitas’s scabbard scraped across the stone shelf. I realized that he was shrugging.

“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure to take me along for everything you eat and drink for the next, oh, rest of your life.”

I laughed. Part of his enchantment meant that he could detect and empathize with my own experiences, and that included savoring food and drink.

“Promise,” I said. “And hey, it’s especially okay for you to indulge now that you’ve lost all that weight.”

“I feel fantastic,” Vanitas muttered. It was part of Mammon’s reforging ritual. Resurrecting Vanitas had made him stronger, better in every way, creating a blade that was even more effective in battle, despite weighing so very little. Hell, even I could wield him in a fight.

“But Dust? No more sword fights with me, unless you give me two weeks’ notice and written permission. You’re filthy. You get me all grubby when you touch me.”

I laughed again. “Fine. I promise not to touch, unless absolutely necessary. Speaking of which, can I, like, do something for you? Clean you up, give you some polish?”

“No need. I’m like a self-cleaning oven.”

Plus on some level, I figured using any kind of polish would damage his unique coat of verdigris. But would that even matter considering his enchanted nature? Eh. I guess I would never know.

“You know, for someone who was alive centuries ago, you’re really weirdly in touch with technology.”

“What can I say? I keep up with the times. Now stop being so nice. You’re bothering me.”

I grinned and patted the stone shelf. “It’s good to have you back, buddy.”

Vanitas didn’t say anything, and I had no way of telling, but I knew he was smiling.

I headed out of my bedroom, curious about any developments in identifying the nature of our attacker from earlier in the evening. I’d left Sterling to bring the goods straight to Carver, which was why I knew to head in the direction of Carver’s office. But I wasn’t expecting to bump into him right in the hallway.

“Dustin,” he said, eyes hard, beckoning with a finger. “Sterling and I have been studying the materials you brought back. Follow me.”

Uh-oh. I didn’t think that they’d get an answer so fast. Plus, Carver seemed on edge. Maybe even a little miffed. I tried not to gulp. It’s not lost on me at all that I’d grown to dread his odd brand of paternal wrath, more than I ever feared that of my own, actual father.

“Color me surprised,” I said, in all sincerity. “Don’t these things usually take a little more time? I mean, not that I’m suggesting it ever takes you long to – ”

“This was a special case,” Carver said, his words coming as fast as the rhythm of his steps. “Process of elimination and all that. We managed to strike out several eventualities and – well, just come and see.”

We found Sterling sitting cross-legged at one of the wooden chairs opposite Carver’s desk. His foot dangled and shook with some impatience, his face lacking the laid-back blend of boredom and arrogance I’d come to expect from him. This was rare. Sterling was nervous, and damn it but he was making me nervous, too.

Carver’s stone desk, normally empty apart from the large amber gems set into its side – and maybe one or two sheaves of parchment, and a book – had been transformed into something from out of an alchemist’s dream. Or maybe a scientist’s lab.

It was a mix of both traditional alchemical equipment and modern lab apparatus, but somehow he managed to make it all work, with his alembic, crucible, and burners all in order, things that I only knew the names of because Herald was my friend. Among the equipment I recognized the phials and slides of blood that Sterling had collected, and a couple of feathers. I didn’t know that he’d found more than one.

Something wasn’t right, though. Sterling’s anxiety and Carver’s hurriedness were unsettling enough, but seeing all his alchemical gear spread out like this was especially unusual. Carver tended to prefer conducting his experiments behind closed doors.