Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

“Dust, would you please just show her?”

I blinked. What, just shadowstep, like a performing monkey? “Uh, I’m not sure about this.”

“It’s cool. She’s one of us.”

I blinked again. Huh. Somehow it never occurred to me that Madam Chien could have been a mage. Did magic run in the family? Was there something about arcane blood that I didn’t know? I filed them away as questions to ask Carver, or maybe Herald, later on.

I decided to go simple and quick. I picked a shadow near a medicine cabinet, one of those ornately carved ones with dozens of miniature drawers. Maintaining eye contact with Madam Chien, I sank into my own shadow on the ground, jaunted as quickly as I could through the Dark Room, then emerged just inches from the cabinet.

My hands spread to either side of me, I waggled my fingers, a silent, half-hearted ta-da. Showing her my magic trick only reminded me that there was someone out there wearing my own damn face, the difference being that I could shadowstep, and they couldn’t.

“I don’t see your point,” Madam Chien grumbled. “Your Uncle Stephen could teleport, until that time he was stupid and showed up in the middle of traffic.”

Aha! I fucking knew it happened. Teleportation mishaps weren’t just urban legends after all.

“The point is, grandma,” Prudence said, through gritted teeth. “The point is, he could have just teleported in. He didn’t need to break the glass.”

Madam Chien barked something back in Mandarin, which set Prudence off, and the two went at it. The guys and I stared off into the corners of the apothecary for some uncomfortable seconds, caught in the crossfire of a familial spat.

But all of that just raised another question. If it was Thea impersonating me, then surely she wouldn’t have resorted to something as crude as punching through a window. Well, shit.

“Fine. Fine. So it wasn’t him. That doesn’t help. I want my peach back.”

“You’ll get it back, Grandma. We just need to track whoever it was down.”

“Get one of your Eyes to do it. What good is the Lorica if it can’t even help us in this matter?”

I looked around the store. “Wait. That’s right. Where’s the Lorica? Or the cops, for that matter? You said something about a security system.”

“I wanted to handle this before reporting anything to the Lorica,” Prudence said. “I don’t want the authorities in on this. Neither does Grandma. Her system is more of a series of wards that she put up herself,” she continued, gesturing at a number of yellow paper talismans pasted around the apothecary. “The security camera is really the only nonmagical precaution we have in place.”

“We,” I said. “So this is a family business?”

“One hopes,” Madam Chien said, eyeing Prudence meaningfully. “My son and his wife are doctors, but this one here decided her place was with the Lorica, punching and kicking things for pleasure.”

“I don’t do it for fun, Grandma,” Prudence said icily.

“You should put those days of danger behind you, the way that I did. What’s so wrong about running the store, the way I do? There is great pride in our business. When will you learn, Mei Ling?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Mei Ling?”

Prudence blushed.

“Leung Mei Ling,” Gil offered. “It’s her Chinese name.”

It was kind of cute that he knew that about her. The two of them made an oddly sweet couple, honestly, if you didn’t think too far about the possibility of magical flaming werewolf babies in their future.

“You guys,” Sterling called out. “Come here.”

None of us had noticed that he’d sauntered off to examine the broken window. I stepped over, spotting the glinting glass shard in his hand. On its edge was the smallest trace of blood, easy enough to miss in the dark on the damp sidewalk.

Gil slapped himself on the forehead. “I should have noticed that.” He gave Prudence an apologetic glance. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice that.”

“Because it isn’t regular blood. Nothing in the conventional sense, at least. Hard to sniff out.” Sterling dragged the shard lightly across his tongue. I felt like I was the only one cringing at the sight of him doing it. He smacked his lips a couple of times. “Ugh. It’s bland. Lifeless.” He nodded at me. “Almost reminds me of how you taste, Graves. Almost.”

Every head in the apothecary turned slowly in my direction. Prudence folded her arms, a cheeky grin blooming on her face, the kind that asked: “Is there something you aren’t telling us?”

“Look, he stole it from me when I was injured, okay?” I threw my hands up. “It’s not like I let him chew on my neck or anything. I’m not a cow.”