The Black Veins (Dead Magic Book 1)

by Ashia Monet

  Daniel actually looks up from his grimoire just to frown at him. “I don’t understand half the things you say.”

  “You’re speaking for both of us,” Cordelia agrees.

  Antonio takes that as a cue to lean toward her seat. “You have to know what video games are.”

  “I do,” she says without looking at him. “But the only game I am even remotely interested in is Mario Kart.”

  “Dude! Maybe when we get to Frost Glade, we can find a Switch and play a round—”

  “How are you okay with this?!” Blythe blurts.

  She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Anger and anxiety had raged too strongly in her chest, forcing sharp words out from even the slightest annoyance.

  “Sorry,” Blythe sighs. “I’m just…nevermind.”

  But Antonio doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s okay. I figured it’d be nice if we all hung out together, y’know? We’re all Guardians and—”

  “No, not that,” Blythe interrupts. She may as well be honest. “I mean the monsters, the Trident Republic, the ‘leaving home to save your life’ thing—all of that. How are you so…how are you so happy?!”

  Antonio’s expression remains as peacefully bright as the sunshine around them. “Because I can’t change what happened to me, but I can change how I respond to it.”

  Blythe never expected to hear something so insightful from Antonio Torres. There is no sin in finding the light in darkness. And right now, Blythe is worried. She is tired. She is hungry and her body yearns for a good bed to sleep on.

  She wants to find happiness again, even just for a moment.

  “Anyway,” Antonio continues. “I kill it as Peach.”

  “No way,” Blythe says. “I’m literally a Peach main.”

  “Oh, in your dreams, Blythe,” Cordelia scoffs.

  Blythe points to her. “I have two little sisters and have mastered the art of clicking a character before anyone else can get to it. Try me.”

  “Who is Peach?” Daniel asks.

  The conversation shifts to explain Mario Kart and Nintendo lore to Daniel. By the time they park in front of Storm Crane’s house, Daniel has decided he’d race as Mario (much to everyone’s disappointment).

  Their destination turns out to be a townhouse smashed in the middle of its block. The yard is neatly trimmed, contrasting with the rusty metal gate. Blythe leads the way up the cracked cement stairs to ring the doorbell.

  They wait. And they wait. And they wait even longer.

  “My god, does anyone live here?” Cordelia mutters.

  A lock finally clicks and the door swings wide. A Black boy stands there, probably in his early twenties, with a neatly trimmed fade and thick eyebrows.

  “Oh,” he says. “You them kids.”

  Blythe puts on her most polite smile. “Yeah, hi, we’re here for Storm Crane, is she home?”

  The boy sighs. For a moment, Blythe fears he’s annoyed at them. Then she realizes the wrinkle in his brow is caused by the mention of Storm. “Nah, she ain’t here. I told her not to be running off but…hold on, I’ll call her.”

  The Guardians stand there, awkwardly, as the boy casually pulls out his phone and dials a number. Over his shoulder lies the interior of the Crane’s house; a white sofa rests in front of a huge TV, contrasted by the vintage wooden coffee table and homey carpeting.

  The ringing of the boy’s phone stops, but the only person that answers is the voicemail. The boy curses and hangs up.

  “The one day she decides not to waste her life in bed,” he mutters. “Look, I got class in fifteen minutes, but you can check the basketball court down the street. If she ain’t there, you can swing back here and wait. Mi casa es tu casa, or however the hell you say it.”

  “You’re right,” Antonio replies.

  Honestly, Storm’s absence isn’t the largest inconvenience. It’ll give them a chance to take things easy for a bit—and for Blythe to snoop around her house before she meets her, maybe get a handle on what kind of person she is.

  “Oh, but we have a dog,” the boy adds. “He’s a pitbull, but he’s chill with new people.”

  Daniel goes pale. Right—he’s terrified of dogs. There goes Blythe’s chance to be nosy.

  “We’ll, uh, stay out here, but thanks,” she says.

  “Aw, I want to meet the puppy,” Antonio complains.

  “He ain’t a puppy,” says the boy.

  “All dogs are puppies at heart,” replies Antonio.

  “…Anyway, I can give you her number, but her phone’s prolly dead. I’m really sorry about this.”

  “It’s alright, we’ll find her,” Blythe says. Cordelia scoffs. She hates any inconvenience, no matter how slight.

  The Guardians drive to the basketball court and find a whole bunch of boys in Nike shorts and fresh sneakers, but no Storm. One guy tells them he hasn’t seen her all day, which isn’t the best sign.

  They return to her house, but when they ring the bell this time, there is no answer at all. Blythe calls Storm’s phone, but the ringing drones in her ear endlessly.

  Antonio plops down on the stairs beside Daniel. Judging from how much Antonio’s fidgeting, boredom is taking over.

  “So, like, when you stayed in your house, did you ever wanna like… leave?” He asks.

  Daniel squints from the sun. “N-Not really. There’s too much…stuff out here.”

  “Whatdoya mean ‘stuff’? You know the world’s not out to get you, right?”

  “You’re not the world,” Daniel retorts. “You don’t know what it wants from me.”

  Antonio twists his mouth to the side. “So, you’ve never had a cheesesteak hoagie before?”

  Daniel shakes his head. Antonio’s hand shoots into the air. “Can I make a suggestion?” Blythe raises her eyebrows at him. “Let’s go to the city and try some cheesesteak hoagies! I’ll pay for everyone—I’ve never had them and neither has Daniel, and maybe when we come back, Storm’ll be home!”

  “No,” says Cordelia.

  Antonio ignores her; his eyes are on Blythe. Blythe’s not sure when she started single-handedly calling the shots, but that’s apparently where they’re at.

  It’s past lunch, and she’s hungry. And Storm obviously isn’t showing up.

  “Onward to the food,” she says.

  It doesn’t take Antonio long to find good food. Fifteen minutes later, the four of them are splitting two Philly cheesesteaks on a city bench.

  A diverse mix of city goers pass by them: families, students, wannabe artists, friends of every ethnicity, aesthetic and style. The Guardians blend in perfectly here—no one even looks their way.

  If Blythe let herself, she could almost pretend they were just a group of friends enjoying their summer. She has to admit, she doesn’t hate the Guardians’ company.

  Daniel takes a huge bite of his hoagie—and his face contorts as if he’s swallowed a lemon. Antonio bursts into laughter as he spits it out.

  “Dude, your face,” Antonio chuckles. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s disgusting! And spicy!” Daniel whines. “This is nothing like my sandwiches from home…”

  “Can I have your half, then? These are amazing.”

  Daniel nearly shoves it at him, nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “Judging from your bland personality, I can imagine what your food tastes like,” Cordelia mutters.

  Daniel stares at Cordelia. “Did you just insult my mother’s cooking?”

  “Oh my God,” Cordelia says. “Are you a momma’s boy too?”

  Daniel’s face burns beat red. “S-Shut up.” The words tumble awkwardly off his tongue, as if it isn’t a phrase he’s used to saying. He must’ve learned it from them.

  More specifically: Cordelia.

  Blythe beams. “Get WRECKED, Cordelia!”

  “He’s such a momma’s boy that the only time he grows a spine is to defend her,” Cordelia retorts.

  “I-I always have a spine,” Daniel mutters. “That’s how anatomy works
.”

  “WORLDSTAAAAAAAAAR!” Blythe screams as Antonio hoots, “Ooooooo!”

  Cordelia pointedly closes the foil over her tofu burger (she refused to “ingest the sloppiness that is one of those unhealthy monstrosities”, as she put it).

  “We should head back now,” she says, as if gracing Daniel with a response is beneath her.

  She has a point though, so they toss out their trash and hop back into the van. Antonio points out a very cute bakery, insisting that no meal is complete without dessert, and so they buy two boxes of cookies, and hit the road again.

  But Blythe gasps as they pass the Philadelphia Museum of Art, with its echoing fountain atop the iconic sprawling staircase. She’s passed up a lot of photo opportunities; she needs to take this one.

  Cordelia groans as Blythe flicks the turn signal. “We were attacked by monsters less than an hour ago and for some reason you all want to…” her voice trails off. “Fine. Go. Take pictures. But don’t expect me to join you.”

  “Yeah dude, I gotta call outta this one too,” Antonio says. “Pictures are boring.”

  “Fine,” Blythe dramatically turns her nose up. “I guess us cultured folk will go have a nice fifteen-minute photoshoot.”

  She leaves them parked in the car and hurries with Daniel to the museum stairs. “So, Dan,” Blythe begins as she raises the camera to her face. “How’re you making out?”

  He watches every person that passes them, but not with interest or disgust. Just…confusion. A studying, slightly fearful gaze that searches for something he can’t quite see.

  “I don’t quite know. I…thought leaving home would be different, and it’s not good but…” his voice trails off. “I want to say I’m okay. But I don’t know if I am or not.”

  “You’re doing great, though,” Blythe says. “You’re battling monsters and—”

  “I may be good at it, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” Daniel interrupts. “And Cordelia’s mean, and I don’t understand Antonio…besides my parents, y-you’re the only people I know. And I feel like I…I’ve missed so many things. And I can’t quite get them, even though I want to.”

  Blythe lowers her camera. She doesn’t give advice often, but this is Daniel: a sweet, quiet boy who cannot understand this new world he’s been dropped into. He deserves advice. And Blythe wants to help him.

  “I know how you feel,” she begins. “When I was younger, I was a really weird, energetic kid. I mean like, I talked all the time. Nonstop. And most of it didn’t make any sense to anyone who wasn’t me or my parents. So obviously, all of the other kids thought I was too weird to deal with and they left me alone. One night I was crying to my dad about not having any friends, and he told me to try listening. Going up to someone, asking their name and what they liked to do, and taking it from there. I tried it and I…made my first friend. And from then on I just started making friends by investing myself in other people.

  She takes a low breath. “Friendship is an art, like gardening or photography. It’s something you can get better at with practice. And not everyone does it the same way—some people like to keep some distance from their friends, other people want to talk every day. But once you learn how, you find other people who value the same things you do and make friends in a similar way. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And you’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out. So don’t worry if you don’t get it now. It’ll happen.” She pauses. “But for the record…I don’t understand Antonio either.”

  Daniel smiles a bit, a wry curve of his mouth that doesn’t show any teeth. “Thanks,” he says. “That…that does make me feel better.”

  She smiles, giving him an encouraging pat on the arm as she focuses on her shots again, adjusting the exposure to catch the light just right on the stairs and pillars.

  “There was…there was something else I wanted to tell you,” Daniel says. “I-I tried to mention it back at Antonio’s house.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember. What’s up?”

  His tone turns serious, as if to hide the way his voice shakes. “Promise not to laugh.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Blythe says.

  Daniel stares off at the museum like he can’t look at her. The sun seems too bright against his pale skin, catching in the curls of his hair. “There’s a spirit trying to kill me,” he whispers.

  Blythe’s blood runs cold. It takes her a moment to fully process the words. Because this is Daniel—the boy who stayed in his house for most of his life. Something is attempting to murder him?

  “…What?” she asks. “Are you…are you serious? Are you sure?”

  Daniel nods. His gaze is locked—unblinking and earnest—with hers. “I-It’s been following me my entire life. It’s always…there. I-I’ve never seen it, but I know it’s…affecting things. It uses whatever’s around to attack me. Weird things will just…happen.”

  Blythe frowns. “Weird things like what?” she asks. And then the memory strikes her—the feeling she got in the parking lot, when her body became a puppet on a string. “…Weird things like cars crashing?”

  “Like accidents,” he agrees. “T-Things that don’t make sense. So I avoid a lot of things. O-Or at least I try to.”

  Holy shit. Blythe knew it, she knew it. What happened in the car was not the Trident Republic at all then—it was Daniel, or rather, the thing that hovers around Daniel.

  Blythe can barely get her questions out fast enough. “Is that why your family moved to the hills?”

  “No. We moved because my parents were afraid something bad would happen to me because I was a Guardian.”

  That was it? From what Blythe understood, all of the Guardians families had agreed to let them become Guardians. Why would the Quintons have signed Daniel up for this if they were so afraid?

  But she doesn’t want to ask such prying questions—and Daniel probably doesn’t even have the answers.

  “My parents don’t believe me,” he fiddles with his sweater. “T-They’re scientists. Astrophysicists and thaumologists. They don’t believe anything without…without concrete data. But I can’t see it or feel it with any of my senses, I just know it’s there. I just…I just wanted to tell you because I think…I think it might make things harder for us. I might make things harder for us.”

  Blythe doesn’t know what to say.

  “B-But it’s not like I’ve been doing nothing!” Daniel insists. “I’ve been trying to create a cure for years!”

  “That’s what’s in your grimoire,” Blythe says.

  Daniel nods. “I’ve researched every Learned Magic spell for banishment of spiritual entities that I could find. But every spell I’ve ever tried, all the ingredients I’ve used…” his voice trails off. “None of them have ever worked. But I-I have one left. It’s the only one I haven’t tried, because a lot of the ingredients don’t grow near my house.”

  “You’ve been picking them up as we went along,” Blythe realizes. “Like the nightshade just now. And the berries in the snow.”

  Daniel nods again. “I only need one more ingredient—silver-root. It’s used in a lot of…recreational drugs. But…but if you just want…” his voice trails off. “If you just want to be rid of me, I-I understand. If it’s too troublesome—”

  “Daniel!” Blythe interrupts. “Don’t even say that. I want you to be here. If there’s some weird evil spirit demon thingy trying to kill you, we’re gonna help you get rid of it, not throw you out on the street. You are not a bother.” She places a hand on his arm. “Like I said, nobody gets left behind.”

  Daniel smiles. It’s a soft one, and it makes his face go warm.

  “Thank you,” he’s quiet for a moment. “You’re my first friend.”

  Oh.

  The words catch Blythe by surprise. But maybe the Guardians are her friends—not permanently, of course.

  They agreed to join her on the trek to Electric City, didn’t they? The least she could do is consider them Temporary Buddies. Sans Cordelia, of course
.

  “First of many!” Blythe forces a huge smile on her face.

  Daniel lets her take the rest of her shots in peaceful silence, happily rocking back and forth on his Oxfords.

  It’s dark when they see the Cranes’ house for the third time. They ring the bell, to no avail, and wait on the porch until Daniel complains about being hot.

  They try the basketball court again, but the place is deserted besides the floodlights beating down on the baskets.

  Blythe sighs. The thought of driving for even another minute makes her want to collapse. She, Cordelia, and Daniel have travelled nonstop since early morning.

  “I think we should take a break,” she says. “Y’know, find somewhere to sleep or something. Just for the night. We can try again tomorrow.”

  “We can’t take a break,” Cordelia snaps. “If anything, this afternoon counted as a break. Besides Storm, we only have one more Guardian to find before—”

  “I know how many Guardians are left,” Blythe interrupts. “I also know that I’m tired. No, not tired. Exhausted. Mentally, physically, metaphysically. And when I’m tired, I’m irritable, and you guys do not want an irritable Guardian of Ether.”

  Antonio’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, time to find a place to sleep. Like, ASAP.”

  Cordelia’s gaze doesn’t stray from Blythe. “First of all,” she begins—oh God, it’s another one of her monologues. “No one is afraid of you, Blythe Fulton. Second of all, last I checked, we were a group and all had equal say as to what we did and did not do. You’re not the only one whose opinions matter.”

  “Cordelia, I think—”

  “Shut up, Daniel,” Cordelia interrupts. “We’re walking it through until we find Storm.”

  “But you just said…” Daniel’s voice trails off. He frowns. “W-Well, I want to go to sleep!”

  “You don’t know what you want,” Cordelia spits.

  “I know I don’t want to listen to you!” Daniel yells.

  Their eyes spear through each other. Antonio pops his head in-between them. “Let’s try this,” he suggests. “Since Daniel and Blythe want to sleep, and I’m pretty tired too, we’ll stop for the night and go looking for Storm first thing tomorrow. How’s that sound?”