Endless Knight (Darkling Mage 9)

I blinked, looking up into a near-total darkness broken only by the wavering of small, fiery lights. My back was cold, pressed against stone. Oh, good. We were back in the Boneyard.

I patted myself down, running my hands over all the regular spots to check that all of my pieces had been teleported to the same location. Granted, I’d never actually heard of someone leaving their wiener behind in a teleportation accident, but you never know. I turned my head to find Mason doing the same. He sighed in relief.

“Yeah, he’s still down there,” he said.

Gil growled from somewhere above us. “If the two of you are done playing with yourselves, I can help you to your feet. But give me the hands that weren’t touching your dicks.”

“It’s fine,” I groaned as I pushed myself to my feet.

I looked around for the others. Carver was standing off to the side, unmussed and unsullied, his hair and suit as perfect as always as he gazed quietly into the abyss. Asher was lying in a wet, salty puddle on the floor. Banjo yipped excitedly as he came down the corridor, pausing to lick at Asher’s face. Sterling followed, avoiding stepping into the saltwater with his boots.

“Did you have a nice time?” he said, offering Asher one hand.

“The best,” Asher said, a dreamy smile on his lips.

Look, I was happy that some of us had fun out there, but I’m not going to lie: we suddenly had some bigger problems. Huge ones. I stepped up to Carver, gazing out into the void beyond the stone platforms of our home, waiting for him to speak first.

“You of all people should know that this doesn’t bode well for us, Dustin.”

I nodded. “Uh-huh. Yep. This is not ideal. Like, at all.”

Carver sighed. “First the All-Father, and now Zeus? That had to have been him. He sent that lightning bolt to save his brother from Belphegor.”

I nodded again. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen gods up against demons before. Not to mention against the Great Beasts, just the other day at Lucero. I’m kind of really worried about what’s coming next.”

Carver finally turned to me, his face flat, at first, until a somewhat forced smile came to his lips. “I suppose we shall do what you do, Mr. Graves, and improvise for the moment. At least we know that the demon sword is secured. That leaves three more. I have some ideas on the matter of the others. Pray, rest for now. You must rest. All of you. Come see me in the morning. I will have more to tell then.”

He swept off towards his offices as soon as he finished, Banjo already chasing after him as he left. I heard the soft, musical noise of Carver’s laughter as he bent down to scoop the corgi up into his arms, but I knew that he was just as on edge as I was. We basically had one of the swords in the bag, sure. But at what cost?

“You’re going straight in the shower,” Sterling said, dragging Asher towards the dormitories by the upper arm. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone swimming, but you don’t want saltwater crusting all up in your nether bits.”

Asher stumbled after him, wet feet padding along the stone floor. “My shirt,” he said, looking around. “I think we forgot it on the island.”

“Right here, buddy,” Mason said, jogging up to them, shirt in hand.

Gil went off in search of a beer, which left me alone in the living area. Well, unless you counted Scrimshaw, who was still working through his huge pile of trash food.

Beer in hand, Gil wandered off to his bedroom. It wasn’t the worst idea – Carver was right, I absolutely need to relax – so I grabbed one for myself and slumped into the couch. Nothing like a beer after a long, hard day of work, even if work meant sucking up to a temperamental demon prince and ending up owing them for saving your hide from an angry ocean god.

The beer was cool, the sofa was soft, and I was content, at least for a little while. I’d snagged a little bag of chips off the counter, too, something to munch on while I sipped my beer. Scrimshaw didn’t seem at all bothered by my presence, and in fact might have been emboldened by it, digging faster and harder into his mound of delights. I watched him with casual interest as I chomped on my potato chips, finding the whole thing oddly meditative.

Scrimshaw’s incessant smacking, chewing sounds were almost relaxing. They should have been disgusting, frankly, but maybe my body yearned to resonate with something mundane, basic, and normal for once, the evolutionary sensation of safety as you share a meal around the proverbial bonfire with someone from your tribe – even if that someone happened to be a bare-ass naked copper-skinned demon that was only a few inches tall.

“I thought you’d be too tired to stick around,” Scrimshaw said through a mouthful of food. “Thanks for hanging out.”

I stretched out on the couch, sighing as I heard some of my joints pop. “No problem,” I said. “I kinda just wanted to unwind, you know?”

Scrimshaw sucked noisily at the tips of his fingers. “Oh, I do, for sure. I don’t know if it’s just my contact with you, but I’ve been drawing a little bit of attention from the demonic courts myself, lately. Seems to me that quite a few of them are willing to pay a fair amount for information on you and your friends.” He smirked at me and tapped the side of his head. “But I’m smart. I won’t ever sell you guys out.”

I chuckled. “Not unless it’s really worth it, right?”

He scoffed. “Well, maybe. But the problem is, when a demon realizes he can’t buy you, he decides the next best option is to beat it out of you. Good thing I’m slippery.” He picked up what looked like a little mound of mashed potatoes. Going by memory, Scrimshaw loved potatoes, in any form. “Speaking of which, how’d things go with Belphegor?”

I sighed. “About as well as they could with demon nobility, I think. She promised to find us a sword. But we were, uh, interrupted by a god, and now I think that I’m in more trouble than when I started.”

“Pssh,” Scrimshaw said, waving one hand limply at the wrist. “So what.”

I sat up, swallowing a mouthful of beer before voicing my question. “What do you mean, so what?”