Soul Fire (Darkling Mage 8)

My breath caught in my throat as I finished my sentence. That was exactly what I was. A plaything. Loki’s smile crept to his face so, so slowly, a taunting, calculated curve.

“The point, Mr. Graves? Who can say? Do you remember your battle with the Midnight Convocation, with the children of Izanami? Do you remember seeing two ravens when you fought Amaterasu, and Susanoo, and Tsukuyomi? Huginn and Muninn, Odin’s pets, his eyes and ears. Who can say why I disguised myself as a pair of birds to watch your fight?”

My spine stiffened, and my blood ran cold. “No,” I said. “Odin, he was busy at the Twilight Tavern, so he sent his ravens to – no.”

Both rows of Loki’s perfect teeth gleamed as he openly sneered at me. “Who can say why I tracked down the last homunculus that Thea Morgana created, the most perfect one of them all, and told it to beat you to the ritual of the Crown of Stars? Who can say?”

“You,” I said, my voice trembling. “It was all you. Metzli died that night. Artemis was exiled from the Convocation. Chernobog tried to murder me. And the Eldest killed dozens of humans outside Valero, and maimed dozens more mages. This was all because of you.”

Loki shrugged and gave me a coy grin. “Guilty as charged.”

“If I had worn the Crown of Stars, none of this would have happened. If you hadn’t stabbed me in the heart, Agatha Black wouldn’t have awakened.”

He batted his lashes with mock innocence. “But then you would have lost your soul, Mr. Graves, and your precious bond to your beloved Dark Room. Oh, don’t give me that look. Everyone knows you’re addicted to the darkness. Everyone knows you relish the power and evil that dwells within your heart.”

“That isn’t true,” I snarled, already feeling the shadows pulsing in my veins as my blood frothed with anger. “That isn’t true and you know it. Why did you do all this? Why me?”

“I already told you, Mr. Graves. I am who I am: a trickster god. What is existence without the element of chaos? How much sweeter is relief when you’ve been through so much suffering? Yes. That is why. I revel in Odin’s jealousy and misery. It gives me power, as does your confusion now, your suffering.”

“Then you’re in league with the Eldest. You’re one of their pawns. You must know that.”

“No. I look out for no one’s interests but my own. This has been for my amusement, and gods, how entertaining this has all been. The intrigue, the drama, and all the rushing rivers of blood, so many of them caused by you. It certainly beats watching television. You already knew the answers all along. Why did I start my company? Why does the All-Father insist on his? Because immortality is so droll. So boring.”

Loki’s footfalls echoed around the darkness of his illusory dimension as he approached me. I tried to

stagger away, but when he planted his hands on my shoulders, I found myself paralyzed, transfixed. “Thank you for the gift of entertainment. You have broken the monotony of my existence. The world may well be different. It worships new gods. But Loki will always be Loki, as you will always be what you are. Some things change, Mr. Graves.” Loki grinned. “And some stay the same.”

The darkness fell from around us like a heavy black shroud, even the dull firelight of the Boneyard piercing and painful to my eyes. I still couldn’t move, but I could breathe, and hear, and see. And what I saw were the poised hands of my friends and allies bathed in magic, fingers, claws, and weapons poised to strike at the god of deception.

Loki bent in, close enough to whisper.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Herald shouted.

Loki threw him a haughty smile, then scoffed. Then he looked into my eyes. “I do apologize about your sword, the one you crafted out of shadow. Nightmare, was it? It may reform in time.” He took a sharp intake of breath. “But I should tell you. As simple a construct as it was, Nightmare was still an artifact, one made out of your very soul, your essence – because you gave it meaning, and a name. And snapping it, well, it sent out a signal, one that can be clearly seen and heard by those drawn to the emanations of the Dark Room, and therefore, the Eldest. You know what that means, Mr. Graves. Farewell. May you enjoy what’s left of your short existence.”

I blinked, and Loki was gone. Shouts erupted around the break room, but Herald was the first to sprint up to me, examining me for injuries, reaching for my bloodied hand.

“Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head. “You should have fired at him while you had the chance,” I said dully.

Carver scoffed. “And risk killing you? Don’t be foolish.”

“I could’ve shielded him,” Bastion said. “I could’ve shielded him, and we could have all fired. Boom. No more Donovan.”

“It wasn’t Donovan. You saw.” I looked down at my hands. “And I think I’m as good as dead anyway. Did you hear what Loki said, about Nightmare snapping?”

Mason cracked his knuckles. “Then we batten down the hatches, get ready for what’s coming. This isn’t over.”

The wound on my hand glared at me, a slitted, angry red eye. “I shouldn’t have named it. I’m so stupid. I didn’t know.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Herald muttered, grabbing for the back of my neck. “Hey. Look at me. We’ll find a way. We always do. You and me, right? Save the world. Kill the bad guy.”

And that little speech would have been rousing if Asher didn’t falter, then groan as he collapsed to his knees. Mason and Sterling rushed to his side, even as Asher clutched at his eyes, issuing a terrible, agonized scream. Carver strode to him, grabbing Asher by the shoulders.

“Asher. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The dead,” Asher sobbed. “They found her. They came to tell me. They saw her.” My heart lurched as I watched the tears dripping between his fingers, wet and bright red. “They saw her, then she saw me.” Asher pulled his hands away, his eyes weeping trails of fresh blood. “She saw me. And she’s coming.”