Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

I heard the sword whizzing through the air, then the sound of metal clanging against cement.

“He’s got me, too,” Vanitas shouted in my head. “He’s pinned me against the wall.”

“No,” I groaned. Hardly any air was left in my body. “Bastion, don’t do this. Please.”

I lifted my head weakly, straining my neck to see him. If he could see my face, if he could see my eyes, then maybe he would remember. Or I could summon the Dark Room and conjure its blades. I strained, and groaned, and called out to it, but – nothing.

Sam had turned his attention to Bastion, blasting at his shields with emanations of blue light, but nothing could penetrate his defenses. However powerful Samyaza was, the combined might of Adriel and Bastion was far stronger. I craned my neck, straining to see Bastion’s face, but I only saw enough to watch him curl his fingers into a fist.

“Stay down,” Bastion said. “Yes. Good dog.”

My face slammed into the floor, grit and dirt digging into my cheek. I grunted as the weight of his power bore down on my head, like he was trying to crack a nut open against a table, like he was forcing my skull to split at its seams.

The pain was too much to bear. I squinted against the tears forming in my eyes, my breath ragged as I muttered worthless supplications, as I prayed for Bastion to hear me, both in his head and his heart. But nothing.

Something cracked, and a horrific pain shot from where my collarbone was supposed to be. A second crack. My knee. It was bent the wrong way. I didn’t have to look. Bastion had broken my leg. I sobbed.

Then he broke the other one.

I screamed.

Chapter 29

Tears and blood mingled on my face, a warm, sticky mess, slick against the floor. I shouldn’t have been alive – couldn’t have been. It almost felt like Bastion wanted me to survive long enough to feel the mind-shattering pain he’d left me in, and to see the end of humanity.

This wasn’t him, I reminded myself, as the air wheezed in and out of me through ragged lips. It was getting harder to breathe. Maybe one of my lungs had been punctured, maybe both. Yet all I could think was how this wasn’t Bastion’s fault. There had to be some way of reaching him.

That, or I had to run. I chuckled bitterly, the sound burbling into the puddle of blood against my face. Like I would ever run again. Like I would ever walk again. The tears streamed again, even when I told myself not to sob. Even breathing hurt too much, wrenching at my body each time I inhaled.

The Dark Room, I thought. Call out to it. My body ached and begged for its cold grasp, for the mists of the chamber to accept me. Take your blood, I thought. Take all the blood you want.

Half of it was on the floor, the other half barely held in my body, dribbling out of me where bone had pierced skin. But the Dark wouldn’t let me enter. The door wouldn’t budge. Bastion wasn’t just keeping me pinned to the ground – he was keeping me pinned to this reality.

Above me I heard sounds of struggle as Samyaza threw himself at Bastion. I could tell that it wasn’t going well. From the ground all I could see were feet. Around the room the Comstock employees stood like statues, still zombified under Adriel’s thrall. Nearby Sam’s sneakers scuffed the ground as he rushed Bastion, blasted him, and was summarily rebuffed.

Too strong. Adriel was much too powerful. How was the angel sustaining his mass possession while fully manipulating Bastion and casting the Tome’s horrific spell? I couldn’t fathom it. I could barely get Vanitas to do anything in my state.

“You’re looking bad there,” Vanitas said, an edge of worry in his voice.

“Oh, you think?” My mind’s voice transmitted a bitter laugh. “Understatement of the century.”

“Still can’t move,” Vanitas said. “This isn’t going well. Your angel friend is losing.”

Sam screamed, his body making a sickly, meaty thud when it hit the wall behind me.

“Correction,” Vanitas murmured. “Your friend lost.”

Behind me I heard Sam groaning, then a kind of shuffling noise, as if he was crawling across the ground. Bastion’s shoes turned the other way as he walked off. The force bearing down on me lightened, but only just. Maybe he was attending to his master, diverting his energies to help in Adriel’s ritual. In any case, we were dismissed. Defeated. No longer threats. Either way, I was going to die.

A hand landed on my shoulder, then on my head, coaxing my neck to the side. I groaned and grimaced at the pain. Sam was turning me so he could see my face. Or perhaps, so I could see him. He was bleeding. Not nearly as much as I was, but bloodied and beaten all the same.

“I don’t think I’m going to win this for us, Dustin,” he said, chuckling, a thin stream of blood dripping from the corner of his lips. “We might have lost this one.”

I would have answered if I had the strength for it. I would have agreed. His hand went to my waist, searching through my pockets. He pulled out the Null Dagger, then tore at his shirt.

“What?” Even speaking was a struggle. “What are you doing?”

“This blade,” Sam said. “It kills enchantments, yes? I was so hoping it would work on me.”