Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

I peered through the store, trying to get a glimpse of Madam Chien, but nothing. I lifted my head at the lone security camera staring me in the face, then gave it my best grin.

“She’s my grandmother on my father’s side,” Prudence said. “I love her to death and I know she’s just really upset by this.”

“Let’s go talk to her, then.” Sterling swept past our huddle, already slinking his way into the apothecary. Prudence followed hotly, like she was worried he might do something to Madam Chien. Gil only gave me a shrug.

“Come on in,” he said. “I think everyone’s a little shaken. Madam Chien rushed here when she found out something was wrong, then she called Prue to come over. I happened to be, um, with her at the time, so.”

I smiled. “No need to explain. Glad to know you guys are getting along. No more beating each other up.”

He scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Well, I mean, that depends on what you mean by beating – ”

I smiled so hard I must have sprained my neck. “No need to explain. Honestly. Please. Stop.”

“Gotcha.”

Madam Chien’s apothecary glowed like a lamp, lit with old light bulbs that pulsed like braziers, like little fires. It was the kind of place that permanently smelled like incense, the austere aura of an antique store combined with the comforting must and dust of an old bookshop.

It wasn’t the strangest assessment. The apothecary was way more than just your standard assortment of ginseng and wolf berries, filled as it was with unusual decor, things in jars, illustrations of the human body on yellowing sheets of paper wrapped in cellophane. Still, it was warm in a way, almost welcoming. I could imagine spending the night and not minding it much.

Behind the counter, wizened and wiry, her hair a snow-white cloud, sat Madam Chien. Her pursed lips showed the impression of someone who permanently disapproved of everything, starting with me. Her eyes narrowed as I approached the counter.

“Him,” she said. “He did it.”

“Grandma, I’m telling you, that’s not possible. Dustin’s our friend.” Prudence shook her head, waving me over. “I’m sorry, she’s just so frightened. She’s a wreck right now.”

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile.

I studied Madam Chien. Frightened wasn’t quite the right word to describe her. Frankly, she looked pretty relaxed for someone whose place of business had just been broken into. She did look at least a little pissed off. She seemed just about ready to smack my head right off my shoulders.

“Come here, Dust,” Prudence said. “You should see this.”

Madam Chien folded her hands together as I stepped closer, her lips puckering even tighter. I couldn’t be sure if her tunic was what she wore day-to-day, or if it served as her sleepwear since she’d probably woken in response to her security system going off, but it gave her the appearance of a martial artist.

Peering out of one of her sleeves was a tattoo of what I thought was an arrowhead. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the head of a dragon. She scowled and slipped her hand over it when she caught me looking. I bowed my head in what I hoped passed for an apology.

“This is why she’s so suspicious. Look.”

Prudence tapped at the screen of a laptop that was quite a few generations out of date, but still recent enough to run the security camera’s software. It was a blur at first, the figure walking from the other side of the street, but as he came into focus, the breath caught in my throat.

The man – thing, whatever he was – looked to either side of him, then up at the security camera. I looked into my own face as it grimaced, then made a small grin.

“Holy shit,” I murmured.

Sterling made a nervous chuckle. “That’s messed up. Look at that, Graves. That’s creepy as hell. Right, Graves? Oh crap, I’d b

e shitting myself.”

“Make him stop,” Prudence said.

In my peripheral vision I caught Gil elbowing Sterling in the stomach. I knew Sterling was just being himself – a douchebag – and trying to freak me out, but I was still too focused on the thing in front of the camera to engage.

Other-Dustin took off his jacket, wrapped his fist in it, then punched clear through the window. He disappeared off-camera, then less than a minute later, reappeared with something bundled under his arm, dashing off into the night.

“He’s paying for my window,” Madam Chien muttered.

“Grandma, I told you, it can’t be him. Dust wouldn’t need to break a window.”

The old woman harrumphed and folded her arms. Prudence groaned.