Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

“That answer is so much worse than anything I could have possibly expected from you.”

Arachne grinned, her fangs wet and gleaming in the jade light of her domicile. “It is my policy to speak the truth. Until we meet again, Dustin Graves. Stay alive.”

The screen disassembled in a puff of dust, the web collapsing into a net of loose strands and threads. The bejeweled spider scuttled away from its destroyed creation, secreting itself into a crack in the stone, then disappearing from view.

So Thea was still alive. I knew it. I didn’t need to be told. Something connected the two of us, this unseen thread woven out of betrayal and vengeance. On some level I knew that she couldn’t die unless it was by my hand. It wouldn’t be just any other way.

I laid back against my pillow, sighing, the sheets now cool against my back. I had to get some rest. We were going to ship Asher out in a matter of hours, but if my mind was racing after I shut my door, it was practically on fire now. I needed to get this all out of my sy

stem.

I raised one hand to the ceiling, palm out, fingers outstretched, grasping an invisible sphere. I thought of myself as a dragon. I thought of Thea.

Burn, I thought. Burn. Burn.

Chapter 21

Steam rose like little wisps of cloud from the tiny opening on top of my latte. It was a chilly night out in Valero, made even colder by the fact that we were smack in the center of the Nicola Arboretum. I wasn’t sure how my coffee was still hot, or why I hadn’t finished it already, actually. By rights it should have died an honorable death within minutes of landing in my hand.

Carver had asked us to swing by a coffee shop en route, which he had never done before, and it was clearly a gesture meant to endear Asher to him. He tried to pay for everything with two hundred-dollar bills, then laughed it off when the barista asked him for smaller change. It wasn’t the first time I wondered where the hell his wealth came from. I mean, how was he even paying us?

Okay, so maybe Carver had never bought us coffees because we’d never actually traveled outside of the hideout together much. But was I bitter? Yes. Of course. As kind as Carver was to me when we first met, he was being especially charming with Asher. Gallant, even. I sucked on my coffee, keeping my suspicions to myself, ever distracted by how I got a full glimpse of my tattoo each time I lifted my cup to my mouth.

Asher was finishing up the rest of his coffee. I didn’t know what he ordered, only that it was hot. Gil stood in front of us with his arms folded, like the big damn bodyguard he was. Sterling didn’t come along for reasons that should be obvious – none of them having to do with me accidentally summoning the sun, of course.

Carver had tipped back the entirety of his insanely hot Americano right in front of an extremely horrified barista, and the six equally horrified people behind us in line. I had to remind him not to do that next time. Maybe it had been so long since he’d been human that he’d forgotten how things were supposed to work.

“Ah. She comes.”

Carver lifted a finger, pointing towards the far end of the clearing. It was the same as the night we first met Enrietta. We were to convene under the statue of Nicola at ten in the evening, her using her power and clout to cow security into letting her pass, us using our array of arcane talents to break the law and trespass on public property after visiting hours. I disposed of my empty coffee cup, rubbing my hands for warmth as the chill of the night came rushing back over my fingers.

Enrietta Boules was dressed much the same as before, in a severe gray smock that was more functional than fashionable. Arnaud trailed behind her, clad in his matching gray clothing. He nodded at me as they approached, his face somber as always, though I caught the slight creasing in his forehead when he saw two of our number that he didn’t recognize.

“New faces,” Enrietta croaked as Arnaud wheeled her up to the statue. She raised a hand, pointing at me. “If there are no objections, I will speak to a familiar one. Mr. Graves, have you brought me the Codex?”

“We have, Mrs. Boules.” I straightened myself up, putting on my most earnest face, because I wasn’t sure how she was going to take the news – not that she really had a choice. “The circumstances are unusual, however. The Genesis Codex is not an artifact. It was a person all along.”

Enrietta’s hand fluttered to her chest, and she looked at each of us, eyes wide. “Which one?” she asked softly, her gaze now alternating between Asher and Carver.

“That would be me,” Asher said, stepping forward, waving one hand sheepishly. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Boules.”

We’d practiced this already. Exchange pleasantries, give Mrs. Boules what she needed on her terms, collect payment, then ensure that we left with Asher in tow, primarily because of that whole “The dude is a person” thing, but also because I had more than a hunch that Carver was totally in love with him and wanted a second apprentice who could probably make fireballs and do the dishes more regularly.

Also there was the tiny matter of running over to Dionysus and making sure he cut out his poison bullshit. There might have been a time in the past when I would have considered getting a tattoo, but after this experience? Nope.

I can’t say how I was expecting Mrs. Boules to react, but she tilted her head and smiled broadly. “What a handsome boy.”

Asher had the decency to blush, rubbing the back of his neck and quietly muttering. “Aw, shucks,” I heard him say. Either the kid was as good at playing the game as I was, or he really was just an awkward, gangly puppy. “Asher Mayhew, ma’am,” he said, extending one hand, which Mrs. Boules took limply in hers.

“A handsome name for a handsome boy,” she said, beaming. “Now, Asher. Will you heal me? I don’t entirely know how your gift works, but if it’s a matter of time, then perhaps we can sort out multiple engagements.”

“That can be arranged,” Carver said smoothly.

“Oh?” Mrs. Boules raised an eyebrow, her expression neutral. “And you are?”

“Carver, Mrs. Boules. At your service. I am Asher’s – well – ”

“Manager,” Asher said, smiling at Enrietta in reassurance. “A temporary one. In any case, I’ll see what I can do about eliminating the problem in one go. That way we can be out of your hair and stop being such a bother to you.”