Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

He stepped aside, beckoning Asher to approach. Sterling nudged him encouragingly, pushing between his shoulder blades. Asher took his place at the end of the table just above the homunculus’s head. He laid a hand on each of the corpse’s temples, then shut his eyes. Everyone in the room – mortal or vampire – fell into complete silence.

It didn’t take long for his talent to manifest itself. Through his lessons with Carver, Asher had further refined his ability to communicate with the dead. It was part of his portfolio, after all, this historically sought-after talent to exert power over death itself. That rarest of gifts made Asher a valuable asset to the Boneyard, and someone I was glad to have on my side.

Green tendrils of energy curled like snakes from Asher’s elbows down to the creature’s head, wrapping and writhing until they slithered into every exposed orifice. I fought the bile rising in my throat as filaments of emerald power wriggled their way into the corpse’s eye sockets, its nostrils, its ears. I watched, waiting for the thing to speak through Asher, or perhaps for Asher to hear its voice in his head and convey its message to us.

I didn’t expect for Other-Dustin’s dead eyes to flicker open and stare directly at me, for it to speak in my own voice.

Chapter 25

The homunculus smiled at me. There was none of the characteristic malice I’d come to expect from its breed, just an odd expression I could only describe as serenity. I’d go as far as to say familiarity.

“Brother,” it whispered.

My blood froze. This thing wasn’t my brother, not by any means, whether natural or paranormal. When the creature said it again, I wondered why my heart twinged with an emotion I couldn’t name.

“We need answers,” Diaz said, with all the gentleness of a doting parent.

Something in his demeanor went even looser, and as calming as his presence was before, it made him radiate even more of his unusual charisma, perhaps the same kind of magnetism that allowed him to pacify and even befriend an entire brood of the bloodthirsty undead.

The homunculus brought its black eyes to gaze at Diaz with something approaching fondness. It blinked slowly, and nodded. Asher kept his hands on the creature’s temples, maintaining a steady flow of necromantic force to keep the channel open.

Diaz’s voice was whisper-soft. “How many of you are there?”

“Many,” my voice answered. “Very many.”

Somehow, that felt more chilling than any concrete number the creature could have given us.

“I don’t think it’s lying,” I said quietly. “They have very basic intelligence. They can only really parrot information. But many could mean anything.”

“Many could mean anything,” the homunculus echoed, smiling at me with my own lips, the wrinkle beside its left eye crinkling the way it would on my own face.

“Your brothers,” Diaz continued. “Are they like you? Are they stronger, or do they hold the same power?”

“Same,” it said lazily, blinking again, its eyes caught in an odd kind of distant reverie. “All the same. All brothers.”

“Then we know that they have the same level of strength. The same talents.” Sterling gave a slow, relieved sigh. “At least we know they aren’t all like you, Dust. Imagine an army of these things that could use shadow and fire.”

Dread twisted in my stomach, as if anything about this doppelganger situation could possibly be any worse. For a fleeting moment I saw copies of myself roaming Valero, flinging fire and conjuring blades of night to slaughter and kill.

“Yeah,” I said evenly. “Good thing.”

“Guys,” Asher said, sweat glazing his forehead. “I can’t hold the connection much longer. Its life essence is slipping. Last questions, now.”

“Very well.” Diaz stepped closer to the table, bending to look into the homunculus’s eyes. “Where are your brothers?”

“A field. With grass. And stones. Big, flat stones, and bones below. Buried bones.”

“A graveyard,” Sterling said. “It’s describing a graveyard.”

“Latham’s Cross?” I folded my arms, staring at the ground as if it could give me the answers I needed. “That’s the biggest graveyard in Valero. Their base couldn’t be th

at far out of the city, or the attacks wouldn’t have come so frequently.”

“Sounds about right,” Sterling said.

“Guys,” Asher grunted. “Last question. The body’ll break down any moment.”

He got that right. The homunculus began to twitch, its face twisting with what first looked like discomfort, then pain. Diaz placed his hand on its forehead. For a moment, the homunculus stilled and settled.