Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

Luella muttered a string of words I couldn’t make out, the rush of them tumbling from her lips with the low whisper and rattling crackle of twigs catching on fire. A globe of flame appeared about a foot away from her head, suspended there like lamplight.

I blinked to adjust, and when Sterling flinched away, I planted my hands on his back in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. He looked at me over his shoulders, his eyes all jittery, but he kept walking when I nudged him. I couldn’t blame the guy.

Sterling and fire had a bit of bad history, between him being incinerated by a beam of sunlight, and being nearly obliterated when a miniature sun appeared just feet above him. Also there was that one time when a cigarette exploded in his face.

I hate to admit that I was involved in at least two – okay, all of those situations, but that was part of what made Sterling and I closer, morbid as it sounds. He drank a bit of my blood, so I set him on fire a little. You don’t know that you’re really friends until you’ve fought a little, am I right? Eye for an eye and all that.

The tunnel didn’t go on as long as I expected, and we ended up at a stone wall that carried a relief of the Brandt family’s leonine crest. Dark, pinpoint stains dotted its surface, which was when I realized that the other Other-Dustin didn’t have a chance of breaking into the family vault even if it slammed its head repeatedly against the wall. The entrance was magically sealed, and there was only one way to gain access.

“You do it, Sebastion,” Luella said. “Mommy’s been hitting the sauce a little too hard tonight. If I prick myself I may just spray blood all over the place.”

I didn’t know if alcohol actually did make blood thinner, or pump faster, but the sheer mention of letting seemed to have an effect on Sterling. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, then threw me an uncertain, sidewards glance.

“Fucking behave,” I muttered, softly enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

Bastion tutted, shaking his head at his mother as he brought two of his fingers together. Before they could even meet, just inches apart, one of them bloomed with a perfect bead of dark blood, as if pricked with an invisible knife. Sterling shuddered, then pushed his fist against his mouth, biting at his knuckles.

“Sterling. Honestly. Get a grip.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

Bastion incanted softly to himself, then pressed his bloodied finger into the relief, his blood joining the other tiny splotches scattered across the stone. The walls around us rumbled, like great, stone gears were turning inside of them, the hidden mechanism groaning like some ancient beast. The Brandt crest rotated some degrees, then with some effort, slid slowly apart, stone grinding against stone, a thin cloud of dust lingering in the breach where the seal once stood.

The Brandts stepped through the gap. Sterling stayed still, even after I pushed on his shoulders.

“Dude. Come on.”

He didn’t budge, just watching mother and son longingly as Bastion stuck his finger in his mouth and nursed his pinprick wound.

“Oh my God, Sterling, you’re the worst. Stay here until you get your shit together.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck and smoothing down the creases in his jeans. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, be right with you.”

And sure, contextually I guess I understood where he was coming from. Vampires liked being able to sample blood from unusual sources, whether that meant mythical creatures, supernatural beings, or mages. Bastion’s blood must have been even more tempting, considering the immense arcane power that flowed through his veins.

Just how much power the Brandts held, however, I didn’t truly grasp until I stepped into their family vault.

Li

ghts were slowly coming on high up in the ceiling, gradually revealing the interior of a room filled wall-to-wall with display cases, each containing a different artifact, and each artifact, no doubt, filled with deep stores of supernatural potential. A cursory calculation told me that there must have been at least thirty cases in the vault, many of them holding pieces of jewelry, dusty grimoires, even one or two weapons.

This was like a section of the Gallery, the massive library found in the Lorica headquarters where their archivists stored all their confiscated artifacts and enchanted relics. The Brandts had their own miniature Gallery in the basement of their manor, and it was small testament to both their wealth and their power.

The whistle that escaped my lips tumbled around the room. Both Luella and Bastion turned to me at the sound of it, giving me satisfied and somewhat smug glances. And for once, I wasn’t mad about it. I didn’t need to be told what each item in the vault could do to guess that it was a formidable collection. It was an arcane artillery stockpile that would have been brutally dangerous in the wrong hands.

“So this is why you were so protective,” I said, nodding at Mrs. Brandt. “It’s why you went so far as to take someone’s hand.”

“Holy shit,” Sterling said, having finally calmed himself and joined us in the repository.

“Indeed,” Luella said. “My actions might have been extreme, considering the thing had a snowball’s chance in hell of breaking its way into the family vault. But it’s the principle of it, you know?”

“We are nothing without our pride,” Bastion said.

“Nothing without our pride,” Luella echoed, pointing at the Brandt family crest embedded in one of the walls, at the lion’s head that watched us stoically. “My husband would have done so much worse. He would have severed the creature’s legs. Maybe taken its heart.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy,” Sterling said absently, peering into the display case of a gem that throbbed with an internal light, pulsing rhythmically, its azure glow rippling like water across the glass.

“He was irreplaceable,” Luella sighed. “As irreplaceable as the treasures we keep here. Heirlooms, nearly all of them, crafted by our ancestors, if not won as trophies in battle. By rights no one should know about this chamber. It’s a family secret, and I trust the two of you will be prudent enough to keep it that way.”