Oblivion Heart (Darkling Mage 4)

“It wasn’t your fault,” I started to say as he approached, just as soon as I caught his lips pressing together, his eyes drifting to the ground.

“I know,” he said, mostly to my shoes. “But that doesn’t make things better, does it? I could have killed you, Dust. I almost did.”

“But you didn’t.” I scratched at my arm uncertainly. “That has to count for something.”

This was awkward, to say the least. My relationship with Bastion had always been complex. I’d found him annoying, hated him, and experienced every degree of dislike in between – but I’d never been afraid.

“I don’t know what I could ever say or do to make this better, Dust. I wish I could promise that this would never happen again.”

I sighed. “Yeah. There has to be some way to stop that from happening to you. To all of us.” I kicked at the ground. “Who ever thought that we’d have to worry about someone using your mind like that? Thea tried it with me, but even she could only do so much. What if someone takes over Carver? Imagine what they could do.”

Bastion scoffed. “And here I used to think the Mouths were justified for what they did, poking around in someone’s brain, making them confess, fishing out their secrets.” He shuddered. “I feel dirty. Like someone pissed inside my skull.”

I grimaced. “Charming.”

“You know what I mean. I’ll put in a good word for you with the Lorica, have them call off the dogs. Royce is probably shitting bricks right now thinking that you kidnapped me or something.”

“Then text him, asshole. Dude. Come on. I don’t want Wings and Hands breathing down my neck everywhere I go.”

“Fine.” Bastion rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I owe you anything.” He grinned. “Joking. Geez, I’m kidding, stop looking at me like that. You saved me, Dust.” He chucked me on the shoulder. “Thank you for that.”

“Sure,” I said. “Just – just promise that you’ll try your best not to crush me to pieces ever again.”

“Yeah, about that – I’m sorry about your friend. The angel.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Can’t be helped. I didn’t even get to thank him. Good guy. Didn’t know him long, but as far as fallen angels go, he seemed real decent.”

“Not a lot of people would die for you.” Bastion held his gaze a little too long, then looked away.

“Not a lot.” I bit my lip. “Maybe his essence is still out there, you know? Waiting to reform. Maybe he’ll be fine. I want to believe that he’ll be fine.”

Bastion shook his head. “I want to believe that, too.”

We stood in silence for some time, the dark of night breaking with the twittering of birds. Dawn, already?

“Sun’s up,” Bastion said quietly.

I looked at the horizon, watching the black of the evening part for the reds and purples and oranges of a new day as the sun rose into view. The morning star. Yes, I know, that’s supposed to be a name for rising planets, but still. Hah. Morningstar. Wasn’t that what they called Lucifer? The most fallen angel of all. I wondered if Samyaza knew him.

“My ride’s here,” Bastion said. “Thanks for not bringing her into the fight, by the way. If I’d done something to my mom when that angel had its hold on my brain, I don’t even know how I would begin to forgive myself.”

I hadn’t noticed the hum and low rumble of the car that had pulled up to us, the same black sedan we’d seen outside the Comstock Building. It had just stopped at the sidewalk when Luella Brandt threw the door open and launched herself into her son’s arms.

“Sebastion,” she breathed. “Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.”

“Mother,” he said, flustered. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He grunted, then chuckled when she squeezed him harder. She released him after a few precious seconds, turned to me, then flung herself around my neck. I blushed instantly. Luella Brandt smelled like a bar, but an expensive one, one that was spritzed with a little designer perfume and was somehow slathered in lots and lots of good moisturizer.

“And you,” she said. “You saved my baby.”

“Mother, please.”

Luella pulled herself away, then planted her hands on my shoulders, gripping me and staring hard up into my face. “You must send me your financials. Let me give you a reward. I’ll make a deposit.”

“That’s – that’s really not necessary at all,” I stammered.

“I understand,” she said. “You’d rather keep your details private. A cash reward, then. I’ll call my people this very morning and have them make a withdrawal of – ”