False Gods (Sins of the Father 2)

But as Sterling himself had told me enough times in the past, all the people he knew, everyone he loved died off around him as he lived on in vampiric immortality. Sterling loved blood, and sex, and more sex, but above all things else, he valued his friends. I respected that.

As an apology for trying to suck Florian’s blood out, Sterling had very kindly offered to take us out for coffee on the spot. We went straight to Human Beans, of course. It was a good chance to catch up, and truthfully I was glad that he’d come along to take the wind out of my anger-driven and totally disorganized plan of going straight for Mistleteinn.

I didn’t think I’d ever be so grateful for a vampire attack. The weirdest part was how Sterling admitted that he wasn’t even all that hungry for blood, just really, really bored. Classic Sterling. He did make up for it in spades, though.

He bought me and Florian quiches for dinner, plus some pastries. Florian was digging into his third serving of cake. Carrot, this time, after a slice of chocolate ganache and what might have been red velvet.

Sterling played with his lighter as he grinned at me, its metal case clicking as he flicked it open and shut. At some point in the past I admit that I might have found it annoying, but now? It was so familiar, and comforting. Metallic, fidgety music to my ears.

“So you’re saying that you never left Valero after all?” Sterling tapped his nail on the side of his cup, a cute little demitasse with a single shot of espresso, just the way he liked it.

I shrugged. “You know, I thought about all the places I could go, and I just kind of ended up staying.”

“Face it, Mace.” Florian gave me an apologetic smile, a little spot of chocolate frosting still on his bottom lip. “The reason you didn’t move away was because you wanted to be found.”

“I agree with the tree man.” Sterling cocked an eyebrow at Florian. “Human plant? Look, what are you? You taste like a garden salad.”

“Alraune, actually.” Florian rubbed his neck, the little indentations from Sterling’s fangs already faded and healing over. “Long story. I am a plant person, basically. That’s all you need to know.”

“He’s been a damn good friend to me, too.” Florian smiled at me as he shoved another forkful of carrot cake in his mouth. “And you won’t believe who the two of us are living with now.” I attempted a naughty, teasing grin before I blurted out the answer anyway. “Artemis. It’s Artemis. We live in her domicile.”

Sterling shook his head. “You’re really making something for yourself, Mason, aren’t you? Gotta admit, I was a bit shocked when you said you were planning to leave the Boneyard.”

That was the place I used to call home. The Boneyard was also an interdimensional space, owned by the lich named Carver, the man who served as both my mentor and a kind of father figure for the entire time I lived under his protection. And it truly felt like home, too.

The Boneyard was a place for misfits to gather, where a werewolf, a vampire, a shadow mage, and even a necromancer with only good intentions could live without fear of persecution from the sometimes prejudiced community of the arcane underground. It was also where I met Dustin Graves, the man I jokingly, tauntingly called my father, and the entire reason I left in the first place.

“I know it was sudden,” I said, sighing. “But I didn’t want to make tro

uble for everyone. That ritual Dustin performed, it sent all those swords that we borrowed scattering. You remember Mammon, right? Demon Prince of Greed? It wasn’t happy about losing its sword. And neither was Loki.”

Sterling tossed back his espresso in one shot, grimaced, then leaned back in his chair, scoffing. “Loki. I remember that dickhole. God, what a prick. And I suppose he’s commissioned – sorry, blackmailed, more likely, the two of you into finding the sword for him.”

“Three whole weapons, actually.” Florian put down his fork long enough to contribute to the conversation, taking a quick sip of water while he was at it. “So far we’ve found one.”

“The second one’s in Los Angeles.” I gestured at Florian. “We were about to make our way there when you, um, dropped in on us.”

Sterling frowned. “And how exactly were you going to get there? A bus, at this time of night? Surely not.”

I picked up my latte again, slurping it noisily so that I wouldn’t have to answer. Sterling sighed.

“Amateurs. We’ll rent a car.” He perked up and thumbed himself in the chest. “I’ll rent the car. We’ll make this an adventure.”

Cautiously, I leaned a little closer across the table, trying to contain my excitement. “You’re really going to help us?”

“I said I was bored tonight, didn’t I? Might as well have some fun. I’ll drive us there. We’ll kick some door downs, collect some heads. Just like old times, eh, Mace?” His fangs gleamed as he grinned, his eyes burning with malevolent joy. Sterling pumped his fists above his head, a boy in the body of a centuries-old vampire. “Woo. Road trip!”

25

Sterling’s rental smelled so close to new, that weird, tantalizing odor that comes with a spiffy, fresh car. Plush leather seats, too, nice and warm from the inside. Florian sat in the back. I had a good feeling that he was doing pretty much the same as me: trying not to show just how impressed we were by the luxurious everything of the very expensive and very stylish car Sterling had hired for our little adventure.

“I can always loan you the money, you know.” Sterling’s leather-gloved hands squeaked as they maneuvered the steering wheel, gripping tight. How he managed to find leather driving gloves on such short notice was anybody’s guess.

“No,” I said. “That’s okay, man. It’s the principle of it.”

“Suit yourself.” He squeaked again as he shrugged, his leather jacket rubbing against the car’s leather interior. I wondered if that was a bad thing, if the proximity would set either vampire or vehicle on fire, or at least give them little friction burns.

I breathed in again, casually taking in the smell of extravagance and old – very, very old money. The boys at the Boneyard and I had agreed on one thing about our vampire friend. Sterling probably wasn’t his real name, just an alias he picked up over the decades, and it was fitting because of how well he handled his finances.