Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

“We discontinued eucalyptus candles two years ago, young man, but I appreciate the effort you’ve made to flatter me.”

I lifted my head proudly. Somewhere off to my side, Sterling snorted. I guess it was up to me to take the lead.

“Mrs. Boules, I’m Dustin Graves, at your service. And these are my colleagues, Sterling and Gil.”

The two grunted in greeting. Enrietta nodded.

“Enrietta Boules, as you already know, granddaughter of the big, honking statue you see before you.” She waved a hand at the man behind her. “And this is Arnaud, my assistant. I believe you’ve already met.”

Arnaud placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head politely. “Greetings,” he said, the word curled with the hint of an accent.

“I will cut to the chase. I’ve been connected to you by an agent wanting only to be known as Dion.”

I nodded, staring at her intently, trying not to roll my eyes. Really, Dionysus? So lame.

“I was informed that you people are the best at what you do – acquisition of magical artifacts, is that correct? The best, that is, apart from those turd-sniffers they hire at the Lorica. Now what were they called again?”

“Hounds, madam,” Arnaud provided helpfully.

I eyed him carefully, but he only smiled. Mama Rosa aside, I’d never really encountered a normal who was privy to the workings of the arcane underground, all the stuff that lay behind the Veil, but I was sure that either of the boys would have said something if they were alerted to anything suspicious about him by now.

“Yes. Hounds. I don’t want the Lorica getting involved in this. We all know they would keep the artifact I desire to themselves, anyway, whisk it off to their precious Gallery.”

Sterling elbowed me gently, speaking loud enough for Enrietta to hear. “I like her a lot,” he muttered. Enrietta smiled.

“You hold no love for the Lorica either. Then it appears my contact was prudent in connecting us.” She pushed at the armrests of her wheelchair, face contorting with effort as she struggled to stand.

“Madam, please,” Arnaud said, his voice whisper-soft.

She raised a hand stiffly. “Let me do this. Give me this one thing.” Jerkily, Enrietta got to her feet, which I only then noticed were bare. She stepped onto the grass, then sighed, closing her eyes, lifting her head. Arnaud rushed forward, placing a wooden cane in her hand. Enrietta nodded her thanks, then planted the tip of the cane in the grass.

“I’m too weak these days to find much time to come to the arboretum, but this was always the true nexus of our family’s power. Dryads, all of us, from an old line. We kept the blood pure, so we could trade in natural magic, and nature’s own magic was our trade. Fruit, vegetables, flowers, and all their wonderful by-products. Perfect, you see, for this sudden boom in wellness, this concern for healthcare. Yet for all of our specialization, for how we monetized our magic, even the finest apothecaries in the Boules line couldn’t find a cure for cancer.”

She stepped forward, leaning her weight onto her cane. She sighed with each step, apparently adoring the sensation of wet grass against the soles of her feet.

“I am dying, gentlemen, from a hereditary illness. I am running out of time, and there are none left to continue the Boules line. I will be damned before I leave my legacy to a boardroom of simpering old men. I need you to secure an artifact for me. An artifact which, incidentally, is being held by a group known as the Viridian Dawn.”

Arnaud listened in silence, his eyes watching Enrietta for any signs of her faltering. Gil, I could tell, was taking notes in his mind, committing every detail to memory.

“Now normally, I might have misgivings about stealing. I’m a businesswoman, after all, not a thief.”

I cleared my throat very quietly.

“But I have learned that this Viridian Dawn is responsible for the deaths of many, and it is my opinion that these filthy cultists will stop at nothing to continue their culling and killing. Why, I’ve heard that they corrupted an entity’s artifact, warping it so that it would force those within its vicinity to tear each other limb from limb, like animals.” She nodded sagely. “Dion told me so.”

Bless her heart, I thought, for failing to connect the lines. It was best that she didn’t know.

“We’ll be more than happy to help, Mrs. Boules,” I said. “We just need information on the artifact’s whereabouts.”

“Ah. Yes. Arnaud will give you the dossier. As for now, the pertinent details. I require something called the Genesis Codex. It is a font of pure vitality, a source of immense life energy that may be the key to ridding my body of this accursed disease. The only problem is that no one knows what this Genesis Codex looks like. It remains up to you to locate the Viridian Dawn’s hideout, find the item within, then extract it. What happens to the cultists, I care not.”

Gil cracked his knuckles. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Wonderful. You may discuss the subject of payment with Arnaud. I trust you will find our terms very agreeable indeed.” She raised her head up to the statue, regarding it wistfully. “The same disease took him, you know, all those decades back. It took my husband, too, made it so we could not bear any children.” She sighed. “I might not have the womb enough to offer an heir for our lineage, but at least I will have time to find someone suitable. Yes. Time is what I need.”

She crept back to her wheelchair, turning about as she positioned her frail bottom. Arnaud held her by the forearms, supporting her tenderly as she lowered herself back in her seat. Enrietta sighed.

“And time is what I shall have. Find me the Codex, gentlemen. The sooner, the better. If you find opposition – kill them if you must. If you end the Viridian Dawn, there may well be a bonus.” She raised a hand, and without further words or prompting, Arnaud approached, placing a manila envelope in Gil’s hands.