Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

Scrimshaw’s instructions were simple. I just needed to cast a circle at a very specific spot in Silk Road. Quite convenient. It was the space in between two buildings, not quite an alley, but a strip of concrete that could only fit one person passing sideways.

He’d sized me up as he explained, his eyes lingering over my belly. “Good thing I ate all those fries for you, eh?” He poked me in the gut. “Wouldn’t fit otherwise.”

“Hey,” I said. “My weight is attractive and appropriate. I’m not going to be body shamed by an imp.”

Scrimshaw sniffed, looking slightly hurt. “Well, now that’s just prejudiced.”

That was essentially Sterling’s catchphrase. I wasn’t sure how to feel about those two idiots being so similar, down to being the only two creatures who’d ever tasted my blood – that I knew of.

I hadn’t unplugged my earphones the entire time, just to make sure nobody questioned why I was walking around talking to thin air. Scrimshaw sat with his legs draped over my collarbone, very much like the proverbial demon on my shoulder, which would have been kind of cute if I wasn’t so aware of how pantsless he was.

It was better, I suppose, than having a matching angel hovering over my other shoulder, considering what I knew of angels so far. Pretty damn unfriendly, and going by Mona’s retelling of her experience the night at the warehouse, not at all opposed to mass murder.

“This is the place,” Scrimshaw said. He pointed at the thing that wasn’t an alley, sandwiched between a high-end retailer of luxury clothing, and an even higher-end retailer of luxury leather goods made out of only the rarest, softest animals. “Turn sideways and slip through there.”

I tilted my head. Cripes. The passage was even narrower than I’d expected, the approximate width of a bath mat. And peering in, I could tell that it only grew tighter as it progressed, coming to a totally angular point.

“How in the holy hell is anyone supposed to fit through that?” I frowned at Scrimshaw. “Is this some kind of trick? These walls are going to squeeze me into a human pancake as soon as I step in, aren’t they?” A beautiful pancake, yes, but a dead one nonetheless.

“Not at all,” Scrimshaw said. “It’s a tight fit, but it’s meant to accommodate anyone who’s coming in for a communion. I was kidding about your belly. Honest.”

“Ugh. Fine.” I turned sideways, slung my backpack over to the front, then pressed it as flat as I could over my chest. “Here goes.”

“Oh,” Scrimshaw said. “And this is where I leave you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen.” He scratched the end of his nose. “You probably know this already but it’s not like demons are welcome guests everywhere. Besides, the Sisters have, uh, reasons to be unhappy with me.”

“Do tell.” I pressed a hand into my waist. “I’ve pissed off quite a few entities in my day. You can’t possibly be that far off.”

Scrimshaw swallowed. “Just trust me on this. I have my reasons.” He waved both of his tiny hands towards the passage. “Now come on. Through the eye of the needle.” He chuckled to himself. “Just thread your way in there.”

“Okay then. Thanks, I guess, for helping.” I raised my finger one last time in warning. “But I’m telling you, if this is some kind of trick – I know where you live.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before. What do you want from me? I’m an imp. It’s in our nature to be buttholes.” He made a salute, clicking his heels. “I’m off. Thanks for the fried goods, and good luck.”

And with that, Scrimshaw disappeared in a cloud of sulfur – right by my face. Fuck, I’ll never get used to the demon smell. And my mouth happened to be open then. Tasted like farts. Dead, rotten farts. And the sound he made as he teleported? Poot. Poot, I tell you.

After taking a minute to air out my nostrils, I looked around to check that no one could see I was about to squeeze myself into the death crevice, and went through. I shuffled, foot by foot, until I couldn’t anymore, the darkness of the passage pressing in on me, the closeness of the walls stifling, suffocating as my progress degraded to bare shambling inches. I gulped, trying – and failing – to turn my head back towards Silk Road, towards light and life.

There was nowhere else to go. This was the end of the line. Fine. I lifted my foot, meaning to bring myself out back the way I came – and my anxiety spilled into full-on panic when I realized I couldn’t move.

“Shit. Oh shit.” My voice traveled down the tiny, pitch-black space ahead of me. “Shit, fuck, oh no, this isn’t happening.”

The walls pressed in, close

r, and closer.

“Oh God. Please, help. Anyone.”

In the darkness before me, three pairs of eyes glowed gold.

“Please,” I choked out.

The shadows. I could meld into them, fall into the Dark Room and escape. But the door wouldn’t open. Some invisible force was keeping me there, holding me in place.

“Bleed,” three voices said.