Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed her, but a young woman joined the two of us, slipping into the conversation like she had every right to be there. And truthfully, she did, considering she was in charge of the entire operation. It had been months since I’d seen her, but Odessa looked very much the same. She was a Scion of the Lorica, and if Bastion and Prudence were to be believed, the reason behind how strangely the whole business with the Codex – with Asher – was being handled.

“Dustin Graves.”

I stiffened my back and fought not to stammer. Something about Odessa had always intimidated me, and it wasn’t just her rank as a Scion.

“Odessa. Hi. I don’t know if you’ve met my – I guess he’s my boss. Carver.”

Something passed between them, and Odessa raised an eyebrow. “Carver.” The corner of her mouth quirked, not quite a smile, but almost. “Is that the name you go by these days?”

The thing Carver did with his lips could have almost passed for a smile. “A pleasure to see you too, Odessa.”

That was the other thing. Talk at the Lorica put Odessa’s age somewhere in the hundreds, even though she didn’t look a minute over eighteen. And that same chill of time I felt from her emanated from Carver as well. Whatever history these two had, it went back a while.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Odessa said. “Surely you’ve realized by now that we’ve resorted to non-aggression because of the – unusual circumstances surrounding the Codex. That is why you all still live. I’ve held back the Lorica’s hand in this. We won’t make trouble for you and your people, Carver. Give us the Codex, and we’ll be on our way.” She waved a hand across the garden, across the carpet of petals. “We’ll forget this ever happened.”

Carver scoffed. “You speak as if this was our fault. Thea was one of your own. Blame her for what happened. The boy stays with us.”

The brief talk of necromancy came back to me, and I wondered if that was why both factions – well, three, if you counted the newly defunct Viridian Dawn – wanted Asher so badly.

Odessa crossed her arms, the gesture somehow making her seem so much bigger. “We have wards, artifacts, room enough at the Lorica to protect him. A rotating staff of personal guardians. He will be safe with us.”

Carver was either playing well at looking unimpressed, or genuinely was, and he just shrugged. “We have a werewolf.”

I nodded, I guess as my way of supporting my current employer. But before I could say anything, Asher had already asserted himself, making his presence known by clearing his throat.

“I wonder if I’m allowed to decide for myself,” he said quietly. It occurred to me then that he probably hadn’t been given that opportunity very many times in life.

Odessa watched him for a moment, as did Carver. Then she nodded.

“I’ll stay with Carver, if that’s all right with everyone.” Asher scratched the bridge of his nose. “I have a feeling he has a lot to teach me.”

Odessa’s expression remained unchanged, but something in her demeanor was enough to tell me she was disappointed. Similarly, something in Carver’s stony-still face told me he was thrilled.

“Very well,” Odessa said, brushing aside a single lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “But we’ll be watching.” She turned to Carver. “We’re always watching.”

Carver smiled thinly. “Of that I am hideously aware.”

Odessa gave Asher one last, lingering look, and was about to leave when Romira approached us. She gazed at each of us in turn, aware that she had walked into something, but whatever she needed to tell Odessa clearly couldn’t wait. There was an uncharacteristic agitation in R

omira’s face, and it made me uncomfortable. Itchy.

“Well?” Odessa folded her hands in front of her, waiting. “Do you have something to report?”

Romira looked about again, her gaze resting on me this time.

“It’s all right to speak,” Odessa said.

“Fine then.” Romira nodded. “We’ve scoured the grounds, and I’ve used my sight. I know it sounds unlikely, but we can’t find her. There’s no trace of Thea’s body anywhere.”

I held the bundle of broken bronze in my jacket closer to my chest, Vanitas’s shattered pieces still cool from the night air. I clenched my fist.

Chapter 28

“Pass the lemon butter sauce,” Bastion said.

Gil set down his utensils, wiped his mouth, and kindly obliged. To his left, Prudence was tucking into her own plate of boiled crab. Carver sat next to Bastion, taking small sips of his coffee between mouthfuls of food, finally having remembered that humans didn’t have a normal tolerance for boiling-hot liquid.

No one was throwing punches, and no one was trying to kill each other. Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. I couldn’t quite recall who had suggested it, but after the battle at the botanical gardens, it was decided that the whole lot of us should go out for dinner some time, get to know each other, possibly draw some professional boundary lines.