Soul Fire (Darkling Mage 8)

“Mmph,” I moaned, trying and failing to get out a sentence.

“Is this,” Mason whispered. “Is this like a sexual experience for him? The sounds he’s making.”

“Just let it go,” Asher said. “Pretend you don’t know him, it’ll all be fine.”

“Oh God,” I muttered, going in for my third bite. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Sterling sipped noisily from his cup. “I don’t think he even talks to Igarashi that way. I should record this. See if Herald gets jealous.”

“He’d understand,” I slobbered through my fourth mouthful. “You’re all freaks. You just don’t get the Cow, man. Best burgers in Valero.”

I watched as Mason chewed the first bit of his burger – Swiss and mushrooms, if I heard correctly – and studied his expression. He knew I was looking, and I could tell he was controlling his reaction, trying to tone it down.

“I – I mean, it’s okay,” he said, thoroughly unconvincingly. I thought I saw his lip quivering as he stared at the bitten portion of his burger. I knew that look. Burger lust.

“You’re a liar and you know it,” I said. “Look me in the eye and tell me that isn’t the most delicious burger you’ve ever tasted.”

Mason’s mouth twitched some more, his bottom lip wet with – I don’t know, burger grease? Maybe drool? “It’s – it’s the best burger I’ve ever tasted.”

“Fucking knew it.”

“We get it,” Asher grumbled. “You’re obsessed with the Happy Cow. I mean, surely it can’t be that – ”

Hah, that was right. This was going to be Asher’s first taste of the Cow himself. Whatever else he was going to say never left h

is lips. Asher went in for another bite, the vaguely sexual moan leaving his mouth only muffled by his face full of burger.

“I knew it,” I huffed, triumphant. “You’re all converts. Nothing beats the Happy Cow. Everyone bows to its might. Kneel at the altar.” I gave my burger a quick, loving peck. “Now they understand, baby. Now they get it.”

Sterling groaned. “You’re all insane.”

“You just don’t get it, man. I know it’s not a cigarette, but as soon as you get a taste of your burger, you’ll understand. It’s like magic.” My eyes closed involuntarily as I took my hugest bite yet, chomping off half of what was left in my hands. “Even with your undead tastebuds I’m sure you’ll – ack.”

Sterling cocked an eyebrow. “You’re sure I’ll – what, exactly?”

“Gurk,” I said.

“You’ll have to speak up, Dust. Or swallow first. It’s disgusting how you talk with your mouth full.”

“He’s choking,” Mason said.

“Gack,” I replied.

Something was lodged in my throat. Oh God. Oh God, this wasn’t how I was supposed to die. I took back everything I thought about the headline in the papers. No way in hell. Dustin Graves couldn’t die by hamburger. I’d bested gods and demons. I was the guy who beat up the Eldest. And we still had more bad guys to kill. Bad gals, that is. I was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory.

“Does anyone know the Heimlich?” Mason cried out.

“I can punch him in the gut,” Sterling said. “Very hard. Will that help?”

“Oh my God,” Asher said. “Mouth to mouth? CPR? What do people do in this situation?”

I gestured at my throat, choking, gasping, the edges of my vision going blurry. Whatever the hell someone was going to do, that was going to have to be done real soon. Asher could close bloody gashes with his necromantic healing, even mend bones – but all the magic in the world wasn’t going to save me.

“Sir, please remain calm,” the manager said, her face anything but. “Charlie here is going to assist you, okay?”

I nodded, desperate, at the gangly young fry cook who vaulted over the counter and rushed straight at me.

Carver would be so disappointed to learn that this, not the combined might of the Eldest, was what finally caused handsome old Dustin Graves to kick the bucket. I wondered if he knew any spells that could get half a patty out of my throat.