Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

ical backpack. Long story, but one that could get him into serious trouble, which was probably why both of us carefully avoided bringing it up in front of Prudence. Herald was an accomplished alchemist, and a talented spellcaster to boot, though what all he kept up his sleeve, I was never truly sure.

“I’m not whiny,” Herald said, whining. “Just hot.” His glasses slid down his nose from the sweat, and he pushed them back up with an expression of wrinkled annoyance. “I don’t know how you guys can handle this. Whose idea was it to come out here on this blistering bloody morning, anyway?”

Prudence snorted. “Ask Dustin. Not that I’m complaining. I’m perfectly happy.” She signaled for another beer, her fourth, last I counted. I was only on my second mimosa and I was already feeling it. Where was she putting it all away?

But yeah, brunch was totally my idea. I always loved the smell of the ocean, the sound of surf. They reminded me of family, and home, which was why I asked Prudence and Herald to come hang out at the beach. I’d promised to keep in touch with the two individually, but the forecast said it’d be nice out, and two birds with one stone, hey? Plus some part of me ached for a little bit of human companionship. Sure, Gil was nice enough, and Sterling was never nearly as much of a bastard as Bastion was, but I wanted to hang out with people who didn’t transform into flesh-ripping monsters every full moon, and who didn’t make creepy jokes about wanting to chew on my neck and suck out my blood.

“I just need a change, okay?” I scratched the back of my neck. “I’m stuck indoors all day, or skulking around at night. Hardly see the sun. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Prudence said, leaning in. “How is your fancy new job, anyway?”

I shrugged, considering which parts of my new post-Lorica career I was technically allowed to share. “Office is nice, but a little dimly lit. Colleagues are pretty decent, and the pay is good.”

It was the best I could manage at being honest, but still being vague about the nature of my job. I couldn’t exactly tell them I was still stealing for a living. That worked nicely when I was running infiltration and subterfuge for the Lorica as a Hound. But now I was on the other side of the equation, see, which technically made me a criminal. I kept my mouth shut about that part.

“Happy to hear it,” Herald said, with just enough enthusiasm, except that I could hear the sliver of sarcasm in his voice. “Is your workplace at least air-conditioned?”

I laughed. Prudence made a face, then shook her head. “And your boss?”

“He seems to like me well enough.”

“Not like the last one, I hope,” Herald said, before he realized what had come out of his mouth. He cringed, and Prudence tapped her foot hard enough that it made an uncomfortable drum beat against the jetty.

My last boss, Thea, turned out to be the same person who had murdered me, thereby awakening my powers. She kept that from me, spending her time teaching me about the arcane world hidden behind Valero, waiting until I had refined some of my shadow magic before once again using me as a blood sacrifice. I didn’t like thinking about it. None of us much liked talking about that whole incident where she summoned a whole army of tentacle monsters in an attempt to destroy the city.

Herald grunted, the result, I realized, of Prudence elbowing him in the ribs. I cleared my throat and kept going, pretending like I hadn’t heard anything Herald had said.

“Yeah, as I was saying. Nice boss. Appreciates my work.” I brightened up, lifting my glass to my lips and grinning. “He even said he would help track down my father.”

My father, who thought I was dead, and who had then disappeared on me some months back. We’d tried calling the school where he worked, checking the post office, but there was no sign of where he’d gone.

“That’s really cool of him,” Prudence said.

“Actually, I was wondering. Do you guys think it would be possible at all to ask an Eye – say, Romira, even – to help find my dad?”

“Sorry, Dust. No outside favors.” Prudence’s reply was stern, but I could read the sympathy in her eyes. “We’re all friends, sure, but it’s not like you can just ask a Lorica Eye to do that for you. And we wouldn’t know where to start. Romira found you because your body registered a massive magical signature, the night you died. It isn’t at all the same with your father, since he’s a normal. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

I sighed. She had a point. But the absence of a magical signature might have been a good sign. That meant that dad wasn’t being threatened or hounded by anything magic-adjacent.

“But you won’t believe what the Eyes did find,” Herald said, bending in conspiratorially. I focused on sipping my drink. I had an idea what was coming next.

Prudence paused as our waitress delivered her beer, then looked between us warily. “I really shouldn’t say, but Herald’s right. Twelve dead bodies, all in one go.”

I choked on my mimosa.

“Twelve, Dust,” Herald said, awestruck. “Can you imagine? Claw marks, like they’d attacked each other.”

“Wow,” I said, my eyes enlarging maybe a little too much, my voice perhaps a little too loud.

“It was like the Pruitts,” Prudence said. “Remember them, Dust? Only so much worse.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, nodding. Oh, I remembered. The Pruitts were a couple, and the first dead bodies I’d ever seen. But even with the holes blown straight through their corpses – and knowing that Thea had murdered them herself – there was something so much worse about the idea of twelve human beings scratching at each other, tearing each other to pieces. Thirteen, if you counted the man who attacked me.

“There was one man alive,” Prudence said, as if reading my mind. “Number thirteen. We ended up having to take him into custody and feign his disappearance, just so the normals wouldn’t ask too many questions. I know, it’s like taking his life away from him, but it was more merciful in the end than leaving him to the authorities.” She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t think even the clerics and the Mouths can help, though. His mind has been fractured. Won’t stop babbling about a cup.”

This time I controlled myself, tipping the remains of my glass directly down my throat, focusing on not drowning myself in mimosa. Sensing the comforting pounding of feet on the wooden planks of the waterfront, I flagged our waitress down for a sangria. God, I needed a drink, and I’d already just finished one.

I let the lapping of the waves fill the silence for a moment. A gull screamed, like it was prompting me to ask what I was dreading. “Is that why the Lorica popped in? To retrieve the – did you say it was a cup?”