Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

“Wait,” I hissed. “Carver. Hey.”

He was just walking up to the gaggle of kids outside on the veranda. These guys were in their twenties, at least, so maybe it was better for me to stop thinking of them as children. Innocents had died because of them. Still, I wondered if they deserved whatever Carver had in store for him. I called out to him again.

Carver looked over his shoulder, his face unbothered, but his pace still brisk. “What is it, Graves?” He was speaking at full volume. Wasn’t he worried about alerting the cultists?

I said as much. “You’re too loud. And quick. I thought we were trying to be subtle?”

Sterling snorted. I looked to Gil for support, but he said nothing. Carver lifted a hand, the amber gems on his fingers glowing. He waved in a languid, dismissive gesture, and a section of gate bent in on itself. Sterling and Gil walked on through the opening, unperturbed, treading over the twisted remains of the fence, and I followed, mouth agape. Those kids were going to die.

“Is he going to kill them? Sterling, dude, listen – ”

Sterling kep

t walking. The men finally noticed us, Carver’s hand burning like a beacon in the darkness.

“Hey, how’d you get in here?” the tallest one said. He was reaching into his pocket, as were the others. “You can’t just walk in. What do you think you’re – ”

Carver waved his hand, and miniature gouts of pale fire streamed from his fingers, each one forcing its way down a cultist’s mouth. They gasped, then choked, clutching at their throats. Then as one, they slumped to the ground, motionless.

“Pah,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles. “Children.”

“Holy shit,” I hissed. “Carver, you killed them. You killed them all.”

“They should have thought of that before they became terrorists.”

I wrenched at my hair, panic mounting in my chest. “Carver, be serious, how are we going to cover this all up?”

Sterling rolled his eyes, then fixed me with a bladed look. Carver finally stopped walking, sighing as he turned to me, his face creased with a sullen expression.

“As much as I would like to leave a trail of corpses in my wake, this is no longer an age in which sorcerers can murder without repercussion. As much as I detest the concept of the Veil, I acknowledge that it has its advantages. I do not want normals banging down Mama Rosa’s door wielding torches and pitchforks. These fools are merely asleep.”

Sterling made a small grumbling sound. Gil bent down to inspect one of the bodies. Looking closer, I could see the rise and fall of the cultist’s stomach as he breathed. I said nothing.

“What you need to understand, Graves, is that there may be casualties in our line of work. If it’s for the greater good, then I don’t see the problem in killing half a dozen parasites upon society if it means we end up saving more in the process.”

Sterling rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, his joints popping. “Awesome. So we have free rein?”

Carver raised a hand and clicked his tongue. “No deaths.”

A faint twinge of disappointment passed over Sterling’s face. “But can I at least stop for a snack? Circumstances permitting.”

Gil chuckled. Carver rolled his eyes. I stared at each of them in turn, mouth still open at how casually they were discussing hurting other people. I mean, I’ve had to knock people out before and stuff, but that was all for defense and self-preservation. Right?

“You may bleed them, and you may break their bones if you must. But work silently.” Carver raised a finger. “And no deaths.”

Sterling grinned, his fangs gleaming in the starlight. “Noted.” He streaked into the compound, a blur of silver and leather.

Gil shrugged. “He gets excited. I mean this is like a buffet for him, you know?”

The screams started immediately.

“I’m glad he gets to have fun. It happens so rarely.” Carver adjusted his cuff. “Gilberto, kill the power.”

Gil nodded, then ran off into the house. Carver leveled me with his gaze.

“Find the Codex. Hurt anyone who stands in your way.”

Chapter 15