Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

“Huh,” I said. “Funny. It’s already open.”

Herald peered over my shoulder. “Maybe he left it open. Maybe he was carrying stuff from the car and forgot.”

I craned my neck over to the side of the house, where my dad’s beat-up old sedan was parked. Both the doors and the trunk were shut.

“Something like that, probably,” I told Herald. But something unsettling stirred in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t like dad to leave the front door open.

I cracked it further open, just to test. Everything seemed mostly normal. The lights in the living room were on. There were boxes on the floor, still unpacked, gone dusty from being untouched. A brown plant sat in the corner, untended and unwatered.

Beyond the plant, on the kitchen tile, lay the body of Norman Graves.

Chapter 16

“Dad. Dad?”

I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my entire life. I bolted to his side, the tile cold against my knees even through the denim. What the hell was I supposed to do? I cradled his head, without even knowing if that was okay. I swept the hair away from his brow, because it was all I could do.

“Am I allowed to do this? Herald, am I supposed to do this?” I wasn’t sure when my voice started cracking. It became a little harder to see Herald, which was when I realized that the tears were starting to flow.

Herald knelt by me, his hand going to dad’s neck, over his chest, under his nose.

“He’s alive,” Herald said. “He’s alive, Dust, don’t worry. Your father’s going to be okay.”

“Who could have done this?” The door was ajar. A robber? Who the hell would come to a dump of a community like this and think there was anything worth stealing in a ten-mile radius? A junkie, maybe. Someone desperate or drugged-up enough to break into someone’s house and steal their shit. “Who would do this to him?” I demanded, as if Herald would have any answers.

“Calm down, Dust. Let me focus. It’s going to be okay.”

I shut up when I noticed what he was doing, when I saw the filaments of purple light trailing from his fingers. There was no telling what all Herald had in his compendium of spells, but instinctively I knew he was doing his best to cast healing magic over my father. I could have hugged Herald right then and there. I could have bought him two whole steak dinners.

Tendrils of violet light danced over my father’s body, curling against his skin. What it was doing, exactly, I couldn’t tell, but it was enough to get him conscious again. Dad moaned softly, finally stirring. Herald kept up his spell, his incanting finally ended. He turned to me and gave me a tight smile.

“He’s going to be okay, Dust.”

I nodded, then stroked my father’s forehead. “You’re going to be okay, dad. You hear that? You’re going to be fine.”

He stirred then, his head turning to follow the weight of my hand.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Dust?”

“Dad?” Something like fire lit up in my chest. My smile must have burned like the sun. “It’s me, dad. It’s me.”

“It’s me, dad.”

It was another voice. I could have convinced myself that it was an echo, because I recognized the voice as my own.

“Oh God, Dust,” Herald said. “Holy fuck.”

I looked down the same direction he was staring, down the same corridor, to find my own face leering back at me.

“It’s me, dad,” the thing in the hallway said. “It’s me.”

I snarled. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

I didn’t even have to think to tell my body to move. Instinct did it all for me. I rushed the homunculus, with no plan in mind, whether to strike it, or burn it, or slash it with a blade from out of the Dark. I just caught a glimpse of its grin before it turned tail and bolted, smashing into the front door with its shoulder and throwing it open. That only made me want to hurt it more.

Somewhere behind me I vaguely registered Herald shouting for me to stop, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, I realized, and I didn’t want t

o. All that mattered was for me to put an end to the homunculus, to end this creature that had fucking dared to put a hand on my father.