Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

I flattened my hair for maybe the fourth time since I’d sat down at my desk. I’d look way too suspicious if I pulled my hoodie over my head, and I already stuck out like a sore thumb in, of all places, the library of the high school where my dad worked.

Unable to resist I flattened my hair a fifth time, all while forgetting that I was wearing a different face anyway. It was thanks to the ring Carver had lent me – from his personal store, he made sure to let me know.

It pulsed warmly on the ring finger of my right hand, a warding stone that served two purposes. First, it ensured that my energy signature was cloaked, meaning that the Lorica’s Eyes couldn’t find me – and let’s be real, after the incident in the Prism and the Gallery, there was a pretty good chance I was public enemy numbers one through seven.

Second, the gem held a weak glamour, one that allowed me to change part of my appearance at will – a different face, a different head of hair. I was just another high school kid, to the eyes of anyone around me. Mousy blond hair, brown eyes, a snub nose, as nondescript as could be.

My alias? Justin Braves.

I’m kidding. About the name, I mean. I’m not entirely sure what my alias was, only that I managed to make my way into the school with a recommendation from my dad, a second from a certain Professor Jonathan B. Carver, and an enchanted fake ID courtesy of Sterling.

That last one was especially fun to play with. You hold the card up to your head, and it scans your face and displays a passable assortment of fake information on its surface. Super convenient. Sterling picked it up from the Black Market, the same night he’d helped smuggle Mona through.

About that. I should clarify. Mona spent some time recuperating in the Boneyard, a short stay that revealed to me just how much of a fan boy Sterling could be, and just how very maternal Mama Rosa could behave around a guest.

She fussed over Mona, bringing her a change of clothes from who

knows where, carrying trays of food to her room even between meal times. Carver told me that Rosa had always wanted a daughter. It was kind of sweet to watch, but I never snooped or looked too long, afraid of attracting one of Rosa’s patented gorgon stares.

Carver had suggested that the best course of action was to give Mona a new lease on life by taking her to one of the few magical places over which the Lorica had very little jurisdiction: the Black Market itself.

Hell, if that place stocked magical fake IDs, then there was no doubt in my mind that Mona could craft a new identity for herself there, for a start. A new life, one to help ease her back into society, and maybe, eventually, she could get a chance to live out in the real world again.

Predictably, Sterling was devastated to see her go, but he did learn something interesting. The melody for “Unfollow My Heart,” certainly Mona’s biggest hit, was based on an ancient siren song, passed from mother to daughter. Its original lyrics, written in a bizarre, dead language, loosely translated to “give me your innards, sailor boy, for I am starving.”

Sterling ended up not having to clap Gil in chains after all. Still, Gil wasn’t very happy with me. Most of our interactions after I’d fled dad’s house had been stilted, and kind of awkward. I felt bad knowing that Gil had always been really nice to me, but it had to be done. Carver agreed. But if Gil was annoyed with me, let’s not even talk about Prudence.

Dad was a little more understanding, which was great, because I really needed to exhaust all possibilities in search of the Tome. Asher was still helping Carver sift through his immense library, and Carver had already put a word out with his contacts in the underground. I’d tried all of the bookstores in Valero – what few that were left – but still nothing.

The bad news was that there was no word from Scrimshaw. The good news was that there was no word from Mammon, either. But every day my heart clenched with the thought that one of the normals would discover the Tome of Annihilation and cast one of its spells, unknowingly or otherwise. The clock was ticking, and I couldn’t help feeling that the city was due for another eldritch massacre.

I must have scoured every last shelf in that library. Carver’s research had told us one new thing about the manuscript, at least. It was warm to the touch, burning at all times with a low level of heat, as its pages were scarcely enough to contain the intensity and complexity of its spells. That was at least slightly more helpful than my initial approach, which was to examine the spine of every single book in existence and hope for the best.

Sighing, I rapped my knuckles against the desk, totally unsatisfied. I’d pulled down a few titles just to double-check that I hadn’t missed anything hiding in the pages of another book, the way a high school kid reads a magazine during class by stuffing it inside a textbook. I mean, who the hell even knew with the damn Tome? It could have been that sneaky. But again, as with Valero Public Library, as with every bookstore I’d turned inside out over the course of my search – nothing.

Slowly closing the book – no Esthers in sight, but hey, you never know – I collected everything on my desk into a neat stack and brought it back among the aisles, looking for the right home for every volume.

This was exhausting work, no word of a lie. I liked to read well enough, but after this incident, assuming we lived and I didn’t accidentally trigger an apocalypse, I was thinking I’d get an ereader. I sighed as I perused the shelves, nothing to show for a day of work other than some tired eyes and a nasty paper cut.

And then, just as I was pushing the last book into place, I saw him. The man with the tattoos. Sam sat cross-legged on the ground, his back leaned against one of the shelves, his nose buried deep in a book, the curls of his hair tumbling over his forehead.

Keep it nonchalant, I told myself. No sense spooking him and sending him off running like the last time. Sam – potentially the Tome of Annihilation itself in human form – was ripe for the taking.

I considered my options. If I could subdue him – it? Him? – I could try and sneak him through the Dark Room like I did with Mona. No sweat. And if he was the Tome after all, then even better – the Dark Room never fussed when objects were passed through it, enchanted or otherwise.

I kept my finger on the spine of every book I passed, pretending to look for something as I inched closer to where Sam was sitting. Without looking up, he cleared his throat, and spoke.

“Fancy seeing you here, Dustin,” he said, raising his head, blue eyes twinkling with interest.

“I, um,” I stuttered. “My name is Justin. I’m, I don’t – ”

“That’s a cute trick you’re playing,” Sam said, tapping the side of his nose. “But I can see right through you. What is that, a glamour? An enchantment?”

I froze in place. So Sam was magical, maybe even supernatural. Odd enough that he knew what glamours were, he could see my true face without even trying. I hadn’t caught him casting any spells, and he wasn’t wearing any enchanted baubles, at least none that I could see. I’d have to ask Carver if arcane jewelry worn on, um, less conventional parts of the body still worked just as well.

“How – ” I sidled even closer to him. “How did you know it was me?”

Sam tilted his head and grinned. “That’s a secret.” He stretched his arms out, his grin going even brighter, and he chuckled. “You’re not the only one with special tricks around here, you know.”