Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

With every muscle in her body tensed, Romira strained with her arms outstretched, struggling to contain the sun-fire. Prudence and Gil had stopped fighting, staring mouths agape at the miniature sun that had formed above us. From somewhere nearby I heard Sterling screaming.

Letting out one final shout, Romira pushed away the last of the sun’s energy, sending its beams returning to the sky. She fell to her knees, forehead glazed with sweat, retching into the grass. The sun came out again, the darkness of an artificial night fading as if it had never existed.

Carver spoke a single word, but it echoed across the compound clear as a bell.

“Home.”

Streaks of pale amber energy snaked towards each member of the hideout, snagging us like lassos. Vanitas whizzed through the air, slamming against my chest and throwing me off my feet in his hurry to return. He made it just in time.

The compound, the yard, Romira and the others began to fade as our bodies gave in to the sending. The veins in Bastion’s neck were on the verge of popping, and his eyes bulged as he shouted.

“I’m going to kill you next time, Graves, I fucking swear it.”

Real talk: I believed him.

Chapter 19

“Stupid,” Carver said, his nose lifted so high in the air I swear he could have poked a hole in the ceiling of Mama Rosa’s restaurant. “Incredibly stupid, and arrogant, and risky.”

He was talking about what I’d done with the mirror, of course. Gil had echoed his sentiments out of a sense of duty, or loyalty, but the moment Carver turned his back and stalked to the kitchen to activate the portal into our hideout, I caught the little wink he gave me.

Gil snuck in another approving gesture, the tiniest thumbs up he could muster, then turned to follow Carver. He patted a still-quivering Asher gently on the shoulder, ushering him towards the refrigerator. I guess whatever I did had constituted a good job, and I’m sure Sterling thought so too, if only he had the strength, or the lips to say so.

Mama Rosa was very dutiful about helping the vampire out back to the kitchen. She appeared from behind the counter with one of those dollies you use to push around stacks of soda or huge boxes of frozen pork, then wordlessly, single-handedly loaded the pulped, incinerated mass that smelled like burned meat onto it. I offered to help, but she shooed me off.

The pile of half-dead vampire burbled gibberish that could have been his thanks to Mama Rosa, or something very rude towards me. Partway through the kitchen, she retrieved a tub of something liquid and red from her refrigerator. I knew it was pig’s blood, which she kept around to prepare dinuguan, a Filipino dish where the main ingredient is, you guessed it, lots of blood. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, that shit’s delicious.

It looked like she was prepared to sacrifice her stock for the sake of Sterling’s recovery. I knew that animal blood wasn’t his favorite, but without his strength, he probably didn’t have much choice. Say what you will about Rosa’s thoughts on Sterling smoking inside of her restaurant, she still gave a shit about the dumb idiot.

I let everyone walk ahead into the hideout portal, Mama Rosa trundling along like she had a delivery to make, completely unbothered by the swirling amber gateway. Asher, it seemed, had reservations.

“It’s going to be okay,” Gil said. “Go on. It’s just like a door going someplace else.”

Asher looked at him questioningly. “Is it going to be like that teleportation thing your boss did? Because I don’t think my mind can take another tumble like that one.”

“Nothing like that. Promise. Head in.”

That was enough to get Asher moving. I followed as soon as Gil had passed through, realizing that we’d left the restaurant empty and undefended just as I narrowly missed bumping into Rosa. She stared me in the face as I passed.

“Closing the restaurant today,” she said gruffly. “Co

oking for you.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.”

She nodded. “New boy is too skinny. Must be hungry.” Mama Rosa ambled out of the portal, jaw still set like she was in a state of perpetual fury. It was nice to know that there was a tender heart sitting somewhere underneath, even though the woman had the countenance of a gargoyle.

And just as I thought that the afternoon’s obstacles had been overcome, I found Carver on the other end of the portal, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently.

“Stupid.” That was all he said, and he turned on his heel again, heading down the corridor to his office. Well. That was petty. “Follow,” he called out. Oh shit. Just when I thought I was safe. He was going to flay me alive.

The others must have fled to their respective quarters, because the halls were empty. I followed as closely as I dared. Something about Carver’s annoyance was so palpable that I didn’t dare walk too close. Either that or I was worried about him whipping around and stopping abruptly to yell at me again.

We reached his office, that bizarre room that had no walls, its stone floors reaching out into black void. It had no furniture apart from a smooth stone desk in the center, set with amber and ocher jewels that matched those he liked to wear on his fingers. He arranged himself stiffly in his chair, then thrust his finger at one of the two velvet-lined seats set across from it.

“Sit.”

Like a dog, I did as I was told. Huh. It only occurred to me then that the title of Hound truly was so appropriate in my previous occupation. All those times Bastion made fun of me finally made sense.