Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he said. “Your meddling ends here. You will pursue us no longer.”

“Us,” I said. “Who is ‘us,’ Bastion?”

“No more interruptions,” he continued. “The culling will continue in earnest.” He reached out with his hands, then closed his fists. The flatscreen flickering with static and the phones clutched in the dead students’ hands all splintered and burst into useless fragments. “The first song was an experiment. That magic was weak. We have something better prepared. A greater symphony of destruction.”

What could possibly be worse than the massacre at the warehouse? But I could worry about that later: something was changing in Bastion’s aura. Prudence was the first to sense what was coming. She dealt one last, desperate blow, crying out in frustration when it did nothing to faze Bastion, then turning tail, running for Gil, and for cover.

The light spilling from Bastion’s eyes and mouth was shining stronger, brighter, and along with the sudden brilliance came the sound of something keening, like a kettle that was ready to pour – or a boiler about to blow.

In my mind I shouted for Vanitas to return to me, and so he did, slipping easily into his sheath, then stopping his flight to hover at my side. “Stay close,” I thought, beckoning him towards me as I prepared to sink into the shadows and vanish into the safety of the Dark Room. But too late.

Bastion threw his head back and screamed. A piercing white light shot out of his body in a radiant pulse, a nova of arcane energy blazing with power. Every window in the house shattered on impact, the sound of breaking glass trumped only by the sound of Bastion’s agonized screaming. Then the pulse slammed into us.

Vanitas swerved and took a glancing blow, smashing into a cabinet, but he was an enchanted sword – no big deal. I wasn’t as lucky. Bastion’s attack threw me off my feet, slamming me back so hard that I swore I felt something snap. The room turned white as the back of my skull made impact, as my bones crashed against the wall. I twitched and groaned, my body aching all over, but my injuries were nothing compared to Prudence and Gil’s.

She was huddled in a motionless heap on the floor, her body thrown over Gil’s. The back of her jacket had been shorn clean off by the force of the pulse, Bastion’s telekinetic assault so brutal that it had raked huge, red gashes into her back. Prudence had only taken so much damage because she’d used her body to shield Gil. She could have taken cover, but she chose him instead.

“Prue?” Gil said, shifting underneath her. The pulse had still hit him, as I could see from the blood dripping down his temple. “Prue? Please, oh God. Please be okay.”

I rushed to them – crawled as quickly as I could. Maybe if I got them in my clutches I could drag them both into the Dark Room with me, whisk them away from Bastion’s madness. It had been hammered enough times into my head – both by Bastion himself and the entirety of the Lorica – that Sebastion Brandt was one of the most powerful Hands in existence.

This was proof enough, and the worst part was knowing that he must have held back. He only wanted to immobilize us, discourage us from following him. If he wanted us dead, we’d have been reduced to piles of pulped organic matter already.

Whatever was in control of Bastion was replenishing his energies, offering an endless well of power. Even if I had the strength left to erode his defenses – death by a thousand cuts – it would only take a snap of his fingers to break every bone in my body. We were fucked.

I panted as I reached Gil’s side, as I mumbled reassurances about Prudence’s safety, not that I even knew enough of her condition to tell. We needed to get her healed magically, and fast. I laid my hands on both of them, gripping firmly.

“Gonna get you out of here,” I said, my voice trembling. “Through the Dark Room. I’ll get you out of here.”

“You might kill us,” Gil said, his words shaking as he spoke.

“Worth a try,” Prudence whispered.

“Prue,” Gil croaked. “You’re okay. Oh, thank fuck you’re okay.”

“Isn’t over,” Prudence muttered. “Not over. Bastion.” Her voice trailed off, and she slumped against Gil’s body again, unconscious.

“Such dramatics.”

My blood went cold. I hadn’t noticed Bastion walking up to us. His eyes were still flaring, brighter than before, the corners of them streaked with what looked like blood. The thing controlling him was burning out his body.

“You have to stop,” I said. “Please, Bastion. I’m begging you. Fight this.”

“There’s nothing to fight,” Bastion said, his voice neutral, flat. He raised his hand, palm outward, pointing it at me. “I’m fine, Dusty. Everything’s fine. You’ll see.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tips of my fingers digging like claws into Gil and Prudence’s skin. Home, I begged of the Dark. Let us in. Let us through. We need to go home.

The Dark Room didn’t answer.

More light broke the darkness of the house, so bright that I could sense it even with my eyes closed. It was blue, this time. A familiar, electric blue. Bastion snarled in anger. My eyes flew open.

Kneeling before us was the man who called himself Sam, the tattoos etched into his skin limned in blue ink that burned brightly in the dark.

“This isn’t over,” Sam said.

His hand flew for mine, and he threw his arm over Prudence and Gil. He squeezed my hand tight, his touch warm, but his fingers almost crushing my bones. I gasped as my body disassembled, disintegrating into parts, then pieces, then molecules.

Chapter 23