Soul Fire (Darkling Mage 8)

Herald stared at me, every muscle in his body tense, his knuckles white as he clutched his milk tea. I sighed.

“Go on,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. Have fun.”

He pecked me on the cheek, and just barely managed to bark “Thank you you’ll be fine I love you” before streaking off. Kids, am I right? I shrugged. What the hell, I thought. Might as well make the most of – well, not a bad situation, exactly. Just a strange one.

I was about to walk off when Katherine held her hand up at chest level. “Oh, not you, Mr. Graves,” she said, grinning. “We’ve got something special planned for you.”

My butt cheeks clenched. “I – what?” This was the part where they would chop me up, pack me in a box, and send me off to one of their processing centers to be ground up into cute little patties.

“You’re supposed to meet Mr. Thorpe, remember?” Katherine’s smile stretched impossibly wider. How many teeth did this woman have? “Silly. Come now. Right this way.”

I followed, bemused, as she tapped the side of her temple and spoke. I guess I hadn’t spotted the earpiece she’d been wearing the whole time. “We’re ready for you, Mr. Thorpe,” she muttered.

At the far end of the massive playroom, with all its bells and whistles and flashing lights, was a simple, smooth black door with a golden handle. Very much out of place. Not gonna lie, I was still considering the very real possibility of being chopped into bits.

“Through this door, and down the corridor, Mr. Graves,” Katherine said. “This is where we part, for now. I’ll meet you back here with your friends to give out the gift bags, once you’re finished with Mr. Thorpe.”

Ooh. Gift bags? That was a nice touch, and a good incentive to stay alive. Who doesn’t want free swag?

“Thanks for showing me around. See you later, I guess.”

I stepped through the door, and let it click shut behind me. The walls of this new corridor were jet black, much like the door itself, the floor carpeted in deep, lush vermilion. If the rest of HQ was some enormous, fast food-laden playhouse, this felt much more like the hallway of some really luxurious hotel, or, you know, an actual corporate office, albeit a very expensive one. Incandescent bulbs set in deep recesses in the ceiling lit the way to – wow, yet another door? Man. Where the hell was Mr. Thorpe?

I realized then that I really had no idea who I was supposed to meet. I tried to look him up online prior to the tour, but Thorpe was so elusive that there were so few photos of him out in public. I mean, this wasn’t a mission for the Boneyard, I wasn’t there to steal from him.

Or assassinate him, for that matter.

I shook my head. See, this was what life in the arcane underground had done to me. It twisted something as innocent as a fun company tour into a cult-y murder operation.

The door at the end of the hallway slid open as I approached. Automatic, I thought, until I realized that it was an elevator. One of those smallish ones, meant for transporting very few passengers at a time. Claustrophobic, almost, if it wasn’t for the mirrored interiors, the shiny metallic floor, the single brass button that looked tauntingly out at me from the control panel. I pressed it, unsure of what to expect.

Maybe half a minute later, the elevator finally dinged. Warm, fresh air rushed in as the door slid open, and I blinked my eyes, unbelieving. Sunlight? This shaft was built all the way to the rooftop.

I stepped out, mouth agog. Not just any rooftop, either, but one that was sprawling with beautifully sculpted plants, opening out into a powder blue sky. Glass fixtures sparkled in the sunlight. It was like being in a terrarium, almost, one that looked out onto the entirety of Valero.

“Mr. Graves, I presume?”

The voice was smooth, velvety, as sleek and sophisticated as the man it belonged to. He stood by one of the larger bushes, a disproportionately tiny pair of trimming shears in his hand.

“Mr. Thorpe,” I said, putting on my best smile. “It’s a pleasure. I’m a huge fan of your company.”

“So I’ve heard,” Thorpe said. He was a handsome man, his longish locks slicked back across his scalp, in a way that reminded me of how Carver liked to style his own hair. That wasn’t the only similarity, truthfully. Thorpe liked his suits too, it seemed, wearing a charcoal gray one that looked so sharply cut that he could have been poured into it. His eyes alternated between watching me approach and scrutinizing the bush he was working on. His irises were as dark as his hair, glimmering with curiosity, and a kind of cunning.

“But the pleasure of this meeting is all mine,” Thorpe said. He smiled – there it was – all brilliant white teeth and perfect cheekbones, his eyes all but twinkling under the light of the sun. “I imagine you’ve had a good time here today. I did have to wait a little, but I’ve waited to meet you for so long now.” He folded his arms, grinning, letting his shears dangle from the end of his finger. “What’s one or two hours more?”

I stepped up to him, thinking that offering my hand would be the polite thing to do, but there was something odd about his stance, and his smile. Not quite mocking. Teasing, I suppose.

“Apologies for the wait,” I said. “Katherine gave us the grand tour. I’m not entirely sure what you mean about wanting to meet me, though. I mean, I’ve been a fan of the Happy Cow forever, but I didn’t know I was so famous at the Valero branch for loving it.”

I forced myself to laugh, trying to dislodge the discomfort and dread building in my throat. Thorpe laughed with me, his voice musical, but his eyes strangely still.

“Dustin, was it?” he said, his head tilting, as if to appraise me. “Dustin Graves?”

“That’s right, Mr. Thorpe. Unless you’d prefer I call you something else?” I grinned, masking my anxieties. “Sir? Hah. A burger genius?”

Thorpe’s smile was as warm and as bright as the sun. “Please. I’d like us to be friends. Call me by my true name.” He extended one hand, his fingers slender, elegant. “Call me Loki.”

Chapter 6