Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

“R-right. I get it, Mom.”

“Jack of all trades, master of – ”

“I said I got it. Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Oh, of course we can,” she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder, resting her chin in her hand. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

I froze.

“Ooh,” Asher said.

I glared at him.

“Any girlfriend?” she continued. “Maybe girlfriends? Ooh. Boyfriends?”

“Mom,” I whined, giving the word four extra syllables.

“I think he’s sweet on that Igarashi boy,” Dad said, elbowing me in the ribs. “Japanese kid, super handsome, wears glasses, has a great job,” he added, fleshing out Herald’s portfolio for my mother’s sake.

With each phrase, her eyes and her grin grew wider, and with each phrase, my ears burned more and more. Reflexively, my hand reached for my pocket, but I just let it sit there, just over my phone. I wondered if Herald was still annoyed at me.

“Enough,” I barked. “Come on, you guys, stop teasing me. We haven’t been together like this for ages.”

“Damn right,” Mom said, gesturing at the house. “Let’s start with this dump. Norman!” She shoved him in the chest, the immateriality of her form letting her hand pass through his shirt for the glimmer of a moment, like a hologram. “What have you done to our beautiful house?”

Dad looked at me, smiled sadly, then sighed. “It’s a long story. But Dust here helped me out.”

We sat there for what felt like hours, Mom making a circuit of the house, looking at old pictures, getting a little sad when she tried to make a cup of coffee for Asher, except that the shade of her body couldn’t become corporeal enough to do anything other than rustle the filters or disturb the instant coffee grains a little.

“It’s really okay, Diana,” Asher said kindly. “I can fix a cup for myself.”

“It’s so strange, really,” Mom said, her voice distant. “I feel like I’m here, only, not entirely, you know? Like some part of me is missing.”

Dad looked her up and down. “Well, your body, for one.”

She smacked him on the shoulder, as hard as a ghost can smack a living person. “I know that Norm.” Dad flinched, more from her glare than the impact. “Still, I’m glad we get to do this at all. I’d like to spend more time with the both of you. Dust, how often do you visit your father?”

My cellphone went off just then, blaring so loudly that it startled us all. I rummaged through my pocket, my heart ratcheting up to a quickened pace. Was it Herald? Man. Why was I so excitable?

No, I realized, looking at the screen. It was Royce. What the hell? I picked up, already frowning.

“Listen, I’m in the middle of something, and I think it’s really sweet that you want to call me in the middle of the day and chitchat, but we really should start seeing other people, and – ”

“Shut the fuck up,” Royce barked. “Shut your stupid mouth and get the hell out of there.”

“What?”

“Is your sword with you? Did you do anything with it? Something different. Destroy it, modify it, enchant it, whatever. The Heart got a read on a load of magic being put into some star-metal, and now – ”

“Jesus,” I said, leaping off the couch. “Everyone. We have to get out of here. Now.”

“What is it?” Mom said, her eyes wide.

“Just, we have to go, Mom. Please. Everyone, right now.”

It was so strange, seeing my father’s fingers loop around my ghost mother’s wrist as they ran out the front door.

I wondered, for a moment, if the neighbors would freak out, though her skin didn’t have quite as much of its eerie luminescence outside. Though as Asher and I stumbled out after them and onto the lawn, I understood that the neighbors wouldn’t have cared either. There was a whole lot more to worry about just then.