Grave Intentions (Darkling Mage 3)

Here’s your gentle reminder that Asher was eighteen. Sheltered, yes, but eighteen. Carver really was so overprotective of his favorite. I laughed. “It’s not going to kill him, you know.”

“Well and good, but that starfish belongs in the water. Put it back, Asher.”

“Sorry,” Asher muttered. “I got excited. Never seen one of these up close.”

He hadn’t seen a lot of things, and we needed to keep that in mind for the future. It was so odd, knowing that this surging fount of necromantic power, this supernatural double-edged blade that could both kill and create was housed in the body of an earnest and slightly awkward young man. And maybe that was for the best. I slept better at night knowing that Asher had a curious, but gentle disposition. He was just a good guy in general.

“It’s dark out, Mayhew,” Sterling shouted. “You drown and I’m not swimming out to retrieve your sorry ass.”

He exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke, somehow managing to do it angrily. Asher blubbered something indistinct but possibly very rude from among the waves. Sterling gave him the finger and laughed.

He’d survived, thanks in no small part to Asher’s effort. And it wasn’t the healing aspect of his necromantic magic that did the trick, either. Asher offered himself to Sterling as soon as Carver had teleported us from Latham’s Cross to the Boneyard. Like, actually offered himself, letting Sterling take as much of his blood as he needed to rejuvenate himself.

It wasn’t as much as I’d thought, as it turned out, but we did have to pull them apart once Sterling had regained enough of his strength. The hunger tied into how drained a vampire was, and as rare as Asher’s power was, that made his blood an even rarer delicacy, an even tastier treat in the moment, which made it harder for Sterling to stop drinking. In not so many words, Carver, Gil, and I had to apply the arcane equivalent of a crowbar to rip Sterling off of Asher’s wrist.

I thanked Sterling myself later that night, after his blood frenzy had faded. We couldn’t have defeated Thea if he hadn’t thrown himself directly at her. He shrugged it off and tried to play it cool, but I caught the beginnings of a smile in the corner of his mouth. Sterling could be an ass sometimes, but there was no way I could ever doubt his loyalty again.

Carver explained to me how we were all that Sterling had left, that immortality had ensured that anyone he liked or loved was long dead. We were his tribe, and as I saw at the graveyard on the hill, Sterling would do everything in his power to keep us safe. We were his family.

Diaz was offered room and board at the Boneyard, to at least give him time to sort out what he was going to do next. Carver said that we could always use a blood witch, but I knew him well enough to say that he extended his invitation out of empathy. Whatever else Carver had done in his long life, he was working hard to undo it. No one lost more than Diaz did the night the homunculi destroyed Nirvana, and while he was grateful for the offer, it was clear that he needed time alone. Last we heard, he’d left Valero.

“Dust.” My dad waved a beer at me, beckoning me over. “What’re you standing all alone over there for? Come here.”

Gil was already sifting through a cooler, pushed into the sand alongside an incredibly cumbersome collection of jars and plastic tubs. He and dad had bonded over their mutual love of meat. As a werewolf, Gil knew his steaks inside and out, raw or otherwise, and dad had always been the type who could appreciate a good rack of ribs. I made a mental note to invite Herald out for one of these barbecues at some point in the future, then a second note to ask him to replace the jar of rub he’d used to

cast his wards over dad’s old house.

Vanitas was plunged halfway into the sand, his place of honor by the barbecue pit. He hadn’t spoken yet, which naturally meant that he hadn’t shown signs of moving, either, but I remembered how much he liked to be around people when there was food. Somehow he could taste it, or so he claimed. It didn’t matter that his presence deafened me with his continued silence. It was just good to have him around.

“Fire’s gonna take a while to get going,” Gil said over his shoulder. “Might as well start it now.”

I stuck my hands into my hips and scoffed. “Oh, please. I’ll get it hot super fast. Just you watch.”

Gil rose to his full height, dusting off his hands and folding his arms. He fixed me with an expectant grin. “Go ahead, hotshot.”

I focused on my fingers, on my intention of setting the bundle of twigs and kindling and coal Gil had set up into a blazing fire. Hah, scratch that. I looked even further into the future. What I wanted was a nice, juicy burger, the exact damn thing that started off this ridiculous adventure in the first place. I wanted it flaming hot, better than anything that the Happy Cow could make. And I wanted it yesterday.

A spark of fire larger than I’d ever produced came bursting out of my fingertips. I bit back a yelp, and in my shock, flicked my wrist at the fire pit. The damn thing – a sphere of flame about the size of a golfball – launched from my hand and landed among the twigs. The entire mess burst into flames. A huge, roaring fire.

Dad laughed, pulling me in for a hug, then clapping me on the back. “That’s my boy. That’s my little pyromaniac.” He pointed at me, practically jeering at Gil. “Hey. Hey Ramirez. That’s my kid. That guy.”

Gil shook his head and laughed. “Fine. I guess you’re better at this than I thought.”

I shrugged, playing it off like I’d meant for the fireball to happen, simultaneously tamping down the excitement of finally creating and shooting one on my own.

“See, that’s what you get for not believing in me,” I said, guffawing. “You just gotta trust in – ”

But dad and Gil had already turned their attention back to their cooler, and to their shared range of grills and outdoor cookware that, I had to admit, confused me even more than the intricacies of the arcane. Ah, screw them. I made a fireball, and launched it all by myself. I mean I thought I was already at peak handsome, but I just got even hotter. Literally.

Like Herald once told me, like Hecate herself had once suggested, a step at a time. With practice and effort, I could still grow in power. Months ago I could barely create an ember. Who knew what waited next? Who knew what other possibilities lingered in my future? I almost wasn’t bothered by the fact that I still owed a demon prince a favor. Almost.

But I didn’t have the answers. As I looked around myself, as I breathed in the scent of the ocean and let the wind’s fingers tousle my hair, I realized that I didn’t need any answers at all. I chuckled to myself, somewhere deep in my chest. The waves crashed, and crested, and fell, echoing my laughter.

The men of the Boneyard drank blood, howled at the moon, raised the dead, and insane as it sounds, it finally felt like I belonged. I finally had what I wanted all along. I had brothers, my father, a family. And even for the space of just one evening, family was more than enough.

END