The Black Veins (Dead Magic Book 1)

by Ashia Monet

  Storm skates up to her in an orange blur. Even in rollerblades, she is still a bit shorter, but she is stout and unmovable, with eyes that are absolutely fierce.

  “If I come,” she says. “You’re gonna make me help with your damn family, aren’t you?”

  “Probably,” Blythe agrees. “No. Definitely. I’m definitely going to do that.”

  Storm thinks for a moment. “Here’s the deal. I tag along with you. If we get to Electric City and find your family? Gucci, I’m gone. But if we find the Angelus first? And I get what I need? I’m still gone, family or no. Y’hear?”

  By this logic, they could lose Storm tomorrow, if they wake up to find the Angelus outside of their hotel room. Or she could help them leave Electric City with Blythe’s family in tow.

  It’s a risky deal, but Blythe’s probably not getting a better offer out of her.

  So, Blythe nods. “Sounds good enough to me.”

  Something about those words makes Storm turn up her lip. “You from the suburbs or somethin’?”

  “I moved around a lot but, yeah, I’m from Washington.”

  “You sound like it,” Storm grumbles. “Please tell me the rest of y’all ain’t weird or nothing.”

  “…and it was the sunflower fairies all along! So, they gave me the magic toothbrush, and as soon as I got through the Twizzler forest to fight the giant Pikachu, I woke up!”

  Blythe’s only halfway through the door and this scene is already wild. Daniel and Antonio sit cross-legged on their bed, Daniel wide-eyed and hypnotized by Antonio’s elaborate storytelling.

  “Kids, we’re home!” Blythe shouts.

  Antonio breaks into a smile, one that only intensifies when he sees Cordelia.

  “Cordelia!” he yells. “Where’d you…” His voice trails off as Storm enters behind her. “Oh, who’s this?”

  Blythe dramatically gestures to her. “Storm Crane!” she announces. “Storm, meet Antonio and Daniel.”

  Storm jerks her chin in acknowledgement and Antonio’s right back to smiling. “Dude, we were looking for you all day! Nice to finally meet you! Were you rollerskating? I love your blades.”

  Storm takes in this eager, personable chatterbox, and leans away as if his happiness is contagious. “…no.”

  “Do you just…wear them all day?”

  “Basically.”

  “Ohhhh, that’s cool! I’d worry about rolling away if I did that.”

  “Good thing I’m me and not you.”

  Antonio is an unstoppable force. Storm is an immovable object. They eye each other in an awkward, silent dance, neither quite sure of the other.

  Storm breaks first, arching an eyebrow at Daniel. “You okay?” she asks. “You look scared as shit.”

  Daniel has on the same nervous expression he wore back when Blythe first met him at the diner. Meeting strangers elicits his fight or flight response.

  “That’s his default expression,” Cordelia mutters.

  She’s back over at her bed, braiding her hair with slow, careful fingers, as she does every night.

  Daniel shrinks his body into a small ball behind Antonio as he stammers an apology. “S-Sorry…”

  “No, it’s all good,” Storm insists. “My fault. I was just asking.”

  But Antonio can neither be stopped nor ignored. “Daniel couldn’t sleep so I was just telling him about some of the weirdest dreams I’ve—what is it, what’s wrong?”

  Daniel is discreetly trying to shush him, his gaze locked on Storm, as if the last thing he wants is this stranger knowing is that he has trouble sleeping.

  Antonio is, as Antonio often is, oblivious. “Why’re you making that noise? Anyway, I was telling Daniel about my Pokémon dreams because I’ve had a ton of those—”

  Daniel melts into a blushing puddle.

  “Hey, don’t you wanna hear about what happened to us?” Blythe interjects. “We almost died!”

  Antonio is like a very excitable puppy—the loudest, most exciting thing is guaranteed to keep his attention.

  Antonio turns to her, aghast. “Oh no, what happened?! Are you guys alright?”

  Hook, line, and sinker.

  Blythe tells the boys the short version of their adventure, including their trek back to the Crane’s house to gather Storm’s things (and let her leave a note for her brother and father, because the entire house was empty and dark when they entered, despite it being well past midnight).

  Blythe leaves out the bit about her agreement with Storm. It’s not exactly something she’s proud of, and it’s a truth she’d rather keep hidden.

  Storm leans against the wall to slip off her rollerblades. “Where’s the lady?” she asks.

  “What lady?” Antonio asks.

  “Um,” Storm thinks, searching for a name. “…Katia?”

  “Oh!” Antonio blurts. He opens his mouth to explain, but no words come out.

  Blythe realizes it at the same time he does—Antonio doesn’t know. Because Blythe hasn’t told him a damn thing.

  Guilt chills up her spine. She raps her fingers against her knee. This situation would be better if she weren’t standing in front of the entire room.

  “We…decided to split ways for a bit,” Blythe explains. “So now it’s just us.”

  Antonio nods in understanding. Storm doesn’t.

  “That’s weird,” she says. “’Cause earlier today, Mikey said she called dad and asked where the hell y’all were ‘cause y’all just ran.”

  The entire room goes hush.

  “…was I not supposed to say that?” Storm asks.

  Blythe can feel Antonio watching her. “Okay, alright, uhh…here’s the situation…we decided to split from Katia,” she stammers. “But she wasn’t in on the decision.”

  Antonio’s head tilts with confusion. God, Blythe is so bad at this.

  “We suspected she may have been working with the Trident Republic,” Cordelia interjects.

  “Yeah,” Blythe agrees. “So we kinda just…bolted.”

  “And stole her things,” Cordelia adds.

  Blythe glares at her. “No, you stole her things, don’t lump us in with your crime.”

  Antonio shakes his head. “Wait…wait,” he says. “So we’re like…runaways?”

  “No ‘like’,” Cordelia says. “Are. We are runaways.”

  Antonio’s gaze pierces into Blythe and Blythe alone. “You ran?” he asks. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  Because I’m unprepared, Blythe wants to say. Because I don’t know what I’m doing. But she bites down the words. Nobody wants to hear that from the person they’re following, even if it is the truth.

  “Antonio, I’m sorry,” she says instead. “I meant to, I honestly did, but like I said when I was talking to you outside, there was just so much going on…”

  “Is there anything else I don’t know?” Antonio asks.

  “No—or, wait, at least, I don’t think so—”

  Antonio’s eyes bulge. “You’re not even sure?”

  “For the record, I’on even care,” Storm says. “Y’all breaking out into Captain America: Civil War over here, I just wanted to know what happened.”

  The room’s awkward aura is stifling. For a moment that feels like a lifetime, no one speaks. They barely breathe.

  “That was a good movie,” Blythe mutters. “Civil War.”

  “You know what?” Antonio blurts. “It’s fine. You’re under a lot of pressure and it’s overwhelming, I get it. I’m already over it. I just…I wish you would have told me about everything I was getting involved with.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Blythe insists. “It was a mistake but I’ll make sure to tell you about everything from here on out, I swear.”

  Antonio speaks without facing her. “Yeah,” he says. “I get it.”

  He’s already tuned her out.

  The moment does not linger; Antonio lies back and pulls a mound of blankets over his body, effectively ending the conversation.

  N
one of the other Guardians want to live in the remaining silence—Cordelia carries her pajamas into the privacy of the bathroom to change, while Daniel crawls back into bed beside Antonio.

  Blythe doesn’t blame them for running.

  “Storm,” Blythe doesn’t dare raise her voice about a whisper. “Do you want to take a bed? I could sleep on the floor?”

  Storm just shakes her head. “Toss me a pillow, I’ll live.”

  Storm sleeps with her back to them, facing the wall. The position of someone who is not here to make friends.

  Tonight has been, in almost every sense of the word, a disaster.

  But as Blythe settles down to sleep, lulled by the gentle sounds of Cordelia’s breathing beside her, Blythe tries to focus on the big picture.

  Storm’s alliance with them makes tomorrow a very big day: they’ll wake with the sun, pile into the van, and set off to find the very last Guardian. Maybe, if luck is by their side, Blythe will be in Electric City tomorrow night.

  In a little over twenty-four hours, she could have her family again. She wants that hope to drown all of her worries about the other Guardians. Her family is what matters, after all.

  But it is still difficult for her to fall asleep. The Guardians—Cordelia and Antonio and Storm and Daniel—still occupy a sliver of her mind.

  Antonio is up with the sun.

  Blythe wakes to find him sitting on his bed, completely dressed, golden hair pulled back from his face, frowning at the phone in his hands.

  Lined on the dresser are silver wrapped breakfast sandwiches and containers of tea and coffee. Even when he’s pissed at them, Antonio is still unbelievably kind.

  “You brought breakfast,” Blythe says.

  “Mmhmm,” he says to his phone.

  The silence only makes the guilt heavier in Blythe’s chest, but she doesn’t bother him again. The last thing she wants is to make things worse.

  A few I-called-the-shower-first arguments later, the four of them stand in front of the van, finishing the last of their breakfast, ready for another day on the road.

  “Well Storm,” Blythe begins. “Welcome to the…uh…t-the car we use to get around.”

  Blythe looks to Cordelia, Antonio and Daniel. “Guys, why haven’t we named this thing?”

  “Because we hate it,” Daniel says.

  Blythe nods in agreement. “Yeah it is ugly.”

  But when Blythe jumps inside and turns the key in the ignition, the van only clicks at her.

  “What…?” she mutters, giving it another twist. Nothing.

  This is the part where Cordelia is supposed to complain, but she stares outside in silence. Blythe isn’t sure if she should feel grateful or worried.

  “That thing’s shot,” Storm says.

  “You know about cars?” Blythe asks.

  “No, but I know that don’t sound too good.”

  Blythe sighs. Of course the van only breaks down when they have to get the last Guardian. It’s lived through racing from monsters in the Tempore and driving for hours on end, but sitting outside of a motel kills it.

  “I knew the second I called it ugly, I’d broken some unspoken bond,” Blythe mutters. “Storm, do you know a mechanic around here? Preferably not the place from last night.”

  “Why would I take you back there?” Storm wrinkles her nose. “I can probably find a place.”

  Everyone descends into early morning silence as Storm scrolls through her phone. Daniel takes the lull as an opportunity to peer over Antonio’s shoulder.

  “Is that a video game?” He asks.

  “No,” Antonio answers. “It’s a mobile game, which is like a video game, but for boring people and people who are bored.”

  “Y’on’t know what a video game is?” Storm asks.

  “I was raised on a very large hill in Montana,” Daniel answers.

  “Goddamn,” Storm says. “The hell they got going on up there?”

  “N-Not much,” Daniel admits.

  Storm barks a sudden, loud laugh, a sound that is filled with pure joy. Daniel jumps, but a small, proud smile appears on his bright red face.

  Blythe doesn’t realize she’s smiling too until she catches her reflection in the rearview mirror. Also, her hair is slipping out of the high bun she threw it in this morning.

  She watches her reflection stuff the loose curls back into place. But something else catches her attention. And every positive emotion in her body vanishes.

  Across the street is a convenience store, its windows crowded with ads. Standing in front of those ads, checking something on her phone, is a woman. Blythe almost doesn’t recognize her without her cloak.

  “Oh shit,” Blythe whispers.

  Storm lifts her head. “What’s up?”

  “Katia’s across the street and we’re fucked if she sees us,” Blythe says.

  They can’t drive off—the van won’t even start. The remaining option breaks Blythe’s heart. They have to leave the van behind.

  She really shouldn’t have called it ugly.

  “Grab everything important, put it in a bag, and let’s go!” Blythe shouts. “We’re leaving the van here!”

  “You sure you want to just leave the van?” Storm asks.

  “Of course I don’t want to leave my van! But we don’t really have a choice!”

  They scramble, snatching everything that is too important to abandon.

  Daniel has frozen, watching the mad dash ensuing around him. “W-What am I supposed to take?!”

  Storm grabs his leather bag from his hand. “I got it.”

  “Don’t forget the snacks!” Blythe shrieks.

  In the rearview mirror, Katia has locked eyes on them. Blythe watches the recognition dawn on her face.

  Her shoulders square as she crosses the street, sunlight illuminating the hard line of her drawn brows. The Guardians are out of time.

  “Fuck, she’s coming!” Blythe announces.

  “Leave everything and go!” Storm’s hand is already on the door.

  “No, no, no, wait!” Blythe shouts. “We’ll run until we lose her, but we need to stay together, so we get out on the count of three!”

  The Guardians’ eyes are steeled on her. Through the back windshield is Katia’s approaching form, halfway across the street.

  They have to run and they have to run now.

  “One. Two. Three—”

  The doors fly open. They bolt like a group of frightened mice hauling awkwardly heavy bags.

  “BLYTHE FULTON!” Katia’s voice chases them like a siren. “You have got to be fucking kidding me—where are you going!?”

  They cut through the motel’s alleyway, following Storm through week old trash bags and suspicious puddles.

  Antonio beams over his shoulder, waving a hand in the air. “Hi Katia, bye Katia!”

  “Keep going, keep going!” Blythe screams.

  “Where are we supposed to go?!” Daniel asks.

  “Don’t worry about it, just keep up!” Storm shouts.

  She is smooth and fast on her rollerblades, making a wide, elegant curve onto a new street.

  Blythe does her best to keep up. Storm doesn’t slow down. There is a huge gap between her and the other Guardians, one that doesn’t disappear even as they travel further and further, Storm leading them in front of shops, across patches of grass, between buildings—

  Until, suddenly, everything freezes. Or, no. The Guardians are still running, growing smaller as they escape farther and farther ahead.

  Blythe freezes.

  Not on her own accord, of course. People have a habit of taking over her body these days.

  Wait, Blythe wants to call out to the others, but her mouth does not obey.

  It is not like the Trident Republic’s song and it is not like Daniel’s spirit in the San Diego parking lot. The goosebumps rising up her arms are caused by something entirely different. Something…otherworldly.

  Her body turns around and faces a figure that was not present before.
It is a blue-eyed man in a suit, one who does not quite look like a human man. The blue-eyed Eraser.

  Blythe’s body is not too numb to keep her from feeling pure terror.

  “Last chance,” says the man.

  He disappears. Gone, as if Blythe has imagined him.

  She is released into the world with her heart thumping and her hands flying to her head as if to make sure it is still there.

  But she is still alive. She has not been erased. She can’t make sense of what the hell just happened, but the very thought of it makes her want to hide in the nearest, darkest corner.

  So she runs.

  When she reunites with the Guardian, they shower her in questions about where she’s been.

  “Sorry, I just…” Her voice trails off. If she speaks about what happened, it will become too real.

  “I lost you guys for a second,” she lies.

  “Did you see Katia?” Daniel asks, peering over her shoulder.

  “No,” Blythe answers. “I’m pretty sure we lost her, thanks to Storm.”

  “How did she even find us…?” Daniel wonders.

  “She knows where all the Guardians live, right?” Storm asks. “Only a matter of time before she caught up. Can’t be that hard to track down a bright yellow Volkswagen.”

  “Yeah, well, we won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Blythe sighs. “Now we’ve got a whole new set of problems, including: stranded, van-less, minimal supplies, and no way to get to the last Guardian.”

  And Blythe may or may not be erased in the next few days. She can’t even think of a plan. It is so spectacularly terrible, Blythe could almost laugh.

  “All I need is a public computer and I can book bus tickets,” Cordelia says.

  All attention turns to her. Blythe’s pretty sure those are the first words Cordelia’s spoken all morning.

  “You coulda said that back when we realized the van wasn’t gonna drive,” Storm points out.

  “I know,” Cordelia murmurs. “I’m sorry.”