Endless Knight (Darkling Mage 9)

And with that, the man dived into the waves, disappearing into the depths of a burning ocean. The civilians around us chattered excitedly, checking their phones to see if they’d stored all the footage, muttering about being on-set for a movie, about seeing a publicity stunt meant to drum up attention through social media. A tiny part of me was relieved. Maybe the Lorica’s cleanup wouldn’t have to be so bad after all.

But a larger part of me was filling with dread. The gods were watching? And justice? I gritted my teeth. It was just like the entities to jump to conclusions. They could hardly be bothered by the Eldest returning, yet one little conversation with the Great Beasts and I was suddenly public enemy number one. Goddamn entities. Assholes, the lot of them.

Prudence held her phone to her ear, speaking rapidly, already calling for a cleanup. Asher shook his head as he looked out to the sea, its surface marked with rapidly melting chunks of ice. I smacked the back of my shorts, trying and failing to dislodge all the wet sand on my butt.

“So,” I said. “That was intense. What the hell was all that about?”

Asher folded his arms and stared at me skeptically, like he was waiting for me to admit I was joking before he spoke up. “Oh, you weren’t kidding. So you really had no idea who that dude was?”

I sighed. “I’m drawing blanks, okay? Some emissary of the gods shows up to threaten me for having one life-threatening

chitchat with Tiamat? I don’t get it.”

“Um, Dust? That wasn’t an emissary.” Asher’s brows furrowed with both frustration and concern. “Are you seriously telling me that you didn’t notice his trident?”

Chapter 4

Somewhere on the internet, there are pictures of an older gentleman, styled as what someone my age would refer to as a hipster: thick beard, impeccably cut and styled silver hair, and a body chiseled out of marble, like a Greek statue. Or a Greek god, really. Now, imagine a facsimile of this man, just freshly emerged from the ocean, his bronzed skin dewy with seawater.

Imagine him holding a trident.

“It really was him, then,” I hissed. “Now Poseidon’s on my ass, too?”

Carver shook his head, his fingers massaging his temples. I didn’t know if it was just a biological reflex on his part, or if liches were even capable of getting headaches. Sterling sat tight-lipped, the cigarette between his fingers burning to ash. Normally, he’d be teasing me about something like this, gloating mockingly about yet another threat of death hanging over my head. His silence said everything.

We were still on Lucero Beach, the sun now set, gathered around the same table where we were previously enjoying the afternoon with the others. The point of heading out to the pier, as I recalled, was to catch the sunset. We caught it, all right, along with quite a few other outrageous sights.

Carver had teleported to our location with Sterling in tow just as soon as I called him to report about Scylla’s appearance. The Lorica was on the scene, too. I wasn’t sure where he was, but Royce was somewhere on the beach barking orders at his people, especially the Mouths he’d brought to delete memories off of normals who had witnessed the aquatic throwdown between Poseidon and Scylla.

Bastion was easier to spot, though. He’d shown up as well in his capacity as a Scion, but in many ways his task was more difficult. He stood dead center of Lucero Beach proper, his hand held to the sky, faint glimmers of white energy emanating from his fingertips and cascading into a massive force field that extended far beyond the pier, off into the parking lot. It was a magical containment field, meant to lock in the normals until the Lorica could deal with what they heard and saw.

I know I give the Lorica a lot of shit, but damn if they weren’t dedicated to their work, especially Bastion. Prudence and Romira flanked him, their hands locked with his as they lent him what they could of their own magics, acting as arcane batteries. I could see Bastion’s forehead creasing from the effort as he exerted his will, his jacket shucked and forgotten on the ground, his body covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Dust,” Herald said.

“Yes, I agree,” I answered hurriedly, totally aware that I’d missed out on something.

“Okay,” Herald said, drawing out the word. “I was just saying, no wonder Apollo was so spooked. He was probably just as worried for Artemis as he was for himself.”

Gil nodded, staring disinterestedly at a bowl of calamari that had long gone cold. “It was bad enough that Artemis got thrown out of the Midnight Convocation just for helping us with Banjo. Imagine if they knew anything about her giving us the ritual to contact the Great Beasts.”

It was small evidence of the fact that the entities still had hearts beating beneath their inhumanly perfect bodies, a distant capacity for compassion. Apollo still cared enough to whisk Artemis away before Poseidon could spot them and plunge them into even more trouble. Then again, they were siblings, after all.

“This is what I don’t get, though,” I said. “Is Poseidon supposed to part of some kind of elite police force? Their own little god squad?”

Carver sighed and shook his head. “You really should know by now, Mr. Graves, that there’s no real way of explaining the actions of the entities. The best I can surmise is that Poseidon has been watching the waters, waiting for some sign of taint or corruption. A kind of scrying, if you will, because the oceans are his domain after all. His sphere of influence, his territory.”

Silence hung over the table as Carver stopped talking, as if to allow us to absorb the full meaning of what he hadn’t said.

Sterling rubbed at his forehead, flicking the burnt-out stub of his cigarette down between the gaps in the pier’s wooden floor. I didn’t know if vampires could get headaches, either, but there we were.

“You’re saying that Poseidon might not be the only one watching,” Sterling breathed. “You’re saying that everyone is on high alert.”

“And yet,” Asher said. “And yet they’re going to turn a blind eye to the Eldest, to Agatha Black.” I saw how his hand curled into a fist, how his eyes twitched. Mason reached for his wrist, gripping it tightly, reassuringly.

“Such is the way of things,” Carver said, nodding. “This is nothing new to us by now. The entities will follow their whims, even as the world crumbles around them.”

He steepled his fingers, studying the tips of his nails like they would offer some kind of answer. The enchanted amber jewelry he liked to wear flickered and glimmered in the light of little fires, candles that the restaurant kept burning to keep a romantic atmosphere.