Shadow Magic (Darkling Mage 1)

Hecate scoffed, something that looked more natural now that her lips were growing back. As was her skin, I noted. Small mercies.

“You fleshlings really are so touchy about death.”

“With all due respect,” I said, “we kind of have to be, Hecate. We can’t do – well, whatever it is you’re doing now. We get one life, and that’s it.”

Hecate nodded, her new head of hair tumbling with its perfect raven locks as she did. “A fine point. But you were never in any real danger. We wouldn’t have killed you. We can’t go around killing every mage who steps into our domicile. Then we would have wizards knocking on our door demanding justice every hour.”

Sensing that we were probably mostly out of danger, Bastion finally relaxed his stance. “You could have fooled us. Didn’t seem like you were holding back.”

Hecate laughed again, her body now fully formed, breasts and hair and beautiful skin unmarred, like it all hadn’t just been pulverized by something the size and velocity of a runaway train just minutes before. Her cloak of midnight stitched itself back together over the milky pallor of her body. It draped around her shoulders, and I realized that I couldn’t tell where her hair ended and the cloak began. From where I stood, both, it seemed, were speckled with little stars.

“You fleshlings are more capable than you think. We were confident.” She raised a finger, crooking it in my direction. “But this little one has surprised us. We have never seen anything quite like him.”

She snapped her fingers. A ball of sickly green flame burned in the air right before her. I stepped back on reflex. Didn’t she say no more games? But the flames receded as suddenly as they’d appeared, leaving in their place a massive book suspended in midair. Its cover was the blackest black I’d ever seen, like something from out of the void. Hecate spread her arms and the book began flipping through its pages.

“That’s her own grimoire,” Bastion said, whispering into my ear, pressing against me in what felt like such an unnecessarily conspiratorial way.

“Really,” I deadpanned. “What tipped you off?”

“Imagine what she keeps there,” Prudence said. “A goddess of magic. Imagine what she knows.”

“Quite a lot, actually,” Hecate said distractedly, more to the air than to our huddle. “Enough that we can hear everything that’s spoken inside our realm.” She lifted her head to peek above the grimoire’s massive pages, giving us an odd smile. “We need to keep things secure, after all.”

The air around her wavered, and again there were three Hecates, all staring intently at the grimoire. It rustled through its pages so quickly that nothing human could have caught even a glimpse of its contents. Then the three of them each stabbed a finger at the book, and the pages stopped flipping.

“Here it is.”

I stood on tiptoes, trying to figure out what “it” was, exactly.

“Curious,” one Hecate said. “The little one steps between shadows,” said another. “Yet it isn’t all that he can do,” said the last.

I shrugged and threw up my hands. “That’s honestly all I know how to do. I’m good at stepping because I’m good at hiding and – I guess at running away from things.”

It was strange how poignant the words pouring out of my own mouth were sounding to my ears, but I filed it all away for later inspection. I really was good at running away, from a lot of things. Even the good things.

“Thea – my mentor once told me that the magic we know, that we’re good at, it comes from who we are as people. That’s who I am.”

Hecate’s mouth twisted in distaste, black lips bent into a sneer. “You fleshlings are so limited by what you think, what you believe, so much that you forget how resilient you are, how you can adapt, and change, and evolve, and survive. Like cockroaches, you are. You run and you run, little one.” All three Hecates tilted their heads. “When will you stop running and turn to face your darkness? When will you take control?”

Prudence and Bastion shifted at my side, their expressions flat, but curious. I didn’t know if Hecate was speaking to how I was dealing with the whole business about the murders, or my own death, or hell, my relationship with my father, but what she said was making sense in a couple of painful ways.

When I started working for the Lorica, I never guessed my life would get sorted out by an encounter with a manifestation of an ancient Greek deity. This was better than a shrink, but at least ten times as dangerous. And probably a few dozen times more terrifying.

“The shadows are your friends, Dustin Graves.” Hecate waved her hand. The book and the apparitions all disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. She stepped forward, into her own shadow – then appeared inches from my face.

I stumbled back. What the hell? She just – she just shadowstepped.

“Embrace them,” Hecate said, her voice like velvet, her eyes solid pools of liquid black. “Immerse in them. Understand the darkness, and it will be yours to command.”

“I – I don’t understand.”

Hecate shook her head. “You will in time. For now, remember. You are in charge of your own destiny. There is no future but the one you create.” She reached out and stroked a lock of hair away from my forehead. Her hand was soft, warm. Her touch was gentle.

“Dust,” Bastion muttered, his voice ringing with warning.

Maybe it’s crazy to say it now, but more than anything the entire night – more than the living chains and the dissonant song of pan flutes, and how the mad goddess had stitched herself to life right in front of us – this was what I found strangest of all. The way she tousled my hair like a mother would, the way she smiled at me. The way the pools of shadow that were her eyes twinkled as she smiled – the way they suddenly filled with stars.

Prudence lunged for me. “Dustin, no.”