Midnight's Son (Darkling Mage Book 5)

by Nazri Noor

  “So what does that make you, exactly? Super talented? Lucky?”

  “Not quite.” She grinned out of the corner of her mouth, casting a glance towards the sink to check if Herald and Prudence could hear us talking. She leaned in and whispered right into my ear. “I’ve got a contract, Dusty. With one of the entities. I’m a champion.”

  I leaned back, my heart thumping, my mouth agape, and my hand clenching so much tighter around her own.

  “You’re not serious, are you? I mean, you’re obviously kidding.”

  “Not at all.” She retrieved her hand, gathering her tresses as she lifted her hair by the base, tying it into an elegant bun, her eyes never leaving mine. “Patronage, Dust. I gave my soul to the entities.”

  Chapter 14

  It was Cerberus, Romira said. Cerberus, the fabled three-headed dog that guarded Hades, the Greek equivalent of hell itself, granted her the additional power that made her who she was. Sure, Romira specialized in burning and razing things, throwing balls of fire and manipulating flame.

  But she’d mastered the element enough to summon a servant of her own, a sentient construct made out of pure flame who could take over the reception desk when she needed to use the ladies’, or go get some coffee from the Lorica break room. That wasn’t exactly a common talent. Combine that with her ability to scry and use the gift of far-sight, to spy on others or track them down, and she was doubly formidable.

  It made so much more sense now, how the other employees described Romira as the actual beast that guarded the Lorica’s gates. It never ceased to amaze me how there was always so much more to learn about the arcane underground, how the acquisition of magical might didn’t simply begin and end with natural talent, or education. I mean, Romira, a champion of Cerberus. Who the hell would’ve thought?

  I promised to keep my lips sealed, which she ensured by the end of the night by planting a light, innocent peck right on my mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was some kind of witchery, a minor spell meant to bind my tongue and my lips, or an overly friendly, flirtatious goodbye. All I knew was that Bastion, who’d come back from his rounds, had his eyebrow arched way in the air when he saw it happen. All I knew was that I blushed so hard I could have burst into flames.

  Prudence left, too, leaving just me and Herald to tend to the apartment. I hated that they’d already gone, but hadn’t taken the cloying tension with them. Herald and I sat next to each other on his gray couch, not really watching the food documentary playing on his flatscreen, casually avoiding the subject of there being a price on my head.

  “Right,” he said, finally. “Elephant in the room. Let’s talk about this. I can barely breathe.”

  “I’m okay,” I said flatly. “Honestly. I think I’ll be fine. The plan is solid. I just need to figure out where I’m going to head for, um, for what Romira calls a little vacation.”

  Herald just stared at me, his eyes narrowed, judging from behind his glasses. I sighed.

  “Dude. I said I’m okay. Okay?”

  “If you say so.” He undid the top few buttons of his shirt, which, to Herald, was the equivalent of letting his hair down. “Gonna take a shower. I’ll leave a towel out for you if you need one, and I can probably find you a spare toothbrush.”

  I smiled at him, not without fondness. Herald could be intense, and sarcastic, and cruel, but I always knew he was a softie at heart, especially when it came to me. “Thanks, man.”

  As the water in the bathroom came on, I pulled out my phone, typing and deleting as I tried and failed to compose a text message to my dad. Would I even have time to see him before I left? I finally gave up, taking another pull of the same beer I’d been nursing since before dinner, wishing Herald would hurry the hell up in the shower so he could freshen up my drink with another chilling spell.

  I guess I hadn’t noticed that he’d finished showering, because he reappeared again, somewhat damp and wrapped in a towel. He had his glasses on, but not much else. It was a whole lot more Herald than I expected to see, frankly speaking. Ever.

  But I’ll be honest: it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help myself.

  “Dang,” I said. “You been working out?”

  “Shut up,” he answered, clearly forcing back a flattered smile. He swept away the damp locks of hair clinging to his forehead, the peaks of his cheeks a little red, maybe from bathing in hot water, maybe from blushing. “Anyway. Your turn to shower. I’m not having you sleep on the couch when you’re all filthy.”

  “I am not filthy,” I said, forcefully ignoring the fact that I hadn’t freshened myself up since at least morning, that I was probably still all grubby from the fight in Heinsite Park and our impromptu attack on the Viridian Dawn. I sniffed at myself, and winced. “Fine. Maybe I’m a little ripe. Okay. But did you say the couch?” I glanced at his bed, hopeful.

  Herald scowled. “Not a chance, Graves. Get the hell in there.”

  I went through the motions, scrubbing and soaping. As I dried myself off, I was about to call out to Herald and ask if I could borrow a change of clothes, when I noticed the tank top and shorts he’d neatly laid out for me on a tiny counter by the sink. I smiled. He really was so organized, and he really did think of everything. My little serial killer.

  We spent the rest of the night dicking around on video games, which was a welcome distraction from the problem of instantly dying if I so much as stepped out of his apartment. I still go back to that night when I need a good memory to perk me up. I was with my best friend, laughing, frozen in time, safe for as long as I stayed in the warmth of his apartment.

  Lights had to go out by midnight. Herald still needed to go to work the next day, after all. I sank into the couch, pulling the covers up over myself and sinking into a reasonably fluffy borrowed pillow. I wasn’t done messing around, though.

  “Hey Herald?” I called into the darkness.

  He grunted. “What?”

  “You sure I can’t sleep in your bed? There’s room for both of us.” I grinned, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’ll even let you be the little spoon.”

  He grunted again. “Nothing in that offer sounds like an incentive, Dust.”

  “You’re no fun. It’s cold here. Shouldn’t the guest get the bed, and you take the couch? Whatever happened to the milk of human kindness?”

  “We’re fresh out. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

  I tried. Some two or three minutes later, I realized I couldn’t.

  “Hey Herald?”

  “Oh my God,” he grumbled. “What is it?”

  “Thanks. For everything.”

  In the darkness I heard rustling, and through the gloom I spotted his silhouette. Herald was sitting up.

  “Why are you talking like you’ve got some terminal illness?” he said, his voice suddenly cold. “Why are you talking like you’re about to die?”

  “I’m not. Just. Dude, I’m just saying thanks. For letting me sleep over, for being a friend. That kind of thing. Okay?”

  “Right,” he said. “I don’t want to hear any of that doom and gloom shit. You’re going to be fine, Dust.” He went silent, for a beat. “We’ll make sure of that.”

  I said nothing else. I didn’t have to.

  Some minutes later, Herald’s breathing steadied into the rhythm of soft snoring. My mind drifted to what Romira had told me. So she was a champion of Cerberus, huh? She could channel his power, siphoning as much of it as she needed through their contract. For someone who’d forfeited her soul, hey, Romira seemed to be doing pretty okay.

  Maybe Hecate was right, and I could approach the Midnight Convocation, make my bid for the Crown of Stars. Then, just as she said, with the power of the entities, I could see through the heavenly bodies themselves, through the stars and moons of the universe, as if they were my eyes. I could reach through the vastness of night, and one by one, surgically eliminate the cults that threatened to bring the Eldest to our world with their forbidden prayers.

  Maybe pa
tronage wasn’t such a bad idea. Romira was living proof, wasn’t she?

  Maybe I didn’t need my soul after all.

  Chapter 15

  Herald kicked me out the next morning, shortly after receiving word from Odessa that it was clear for me to make a move. But “kicked out” was a bit of an exaggeration. Okay, more like a huge one.

  He made breakfast – fried spam and runny eggs over white rice, so damn good. He even washed the clothes I was wearing the day before. It was nice, like having a mom, if your mom was a perpetually grumpy Japanese sorcerer with latent anger issues.

  “You’re being so nice to me,” I said, smiling between mouthfuls of spam and rice.

  “You’re a pain in my ass,” Herald said, handing me a cup of coffee. “There. Is that more like it?”

  After breakfast, Herald went through the motions of getting ready for work, slipping into one of those vest-and-tie ensembles he liked to wear, looking like a snazzy librarian, or maybe a really hip bartender. He turned off the lights, shut the blinds, then nodded.

  “Right,” he said. “I gotta go to work, and you gotta get the hell out of here. Pick a shadow and go.”

  I nodded back, but before I could step into the shadows, he pulled me in for a wordless hug. Herald wasn’t much of a hugger. In fact, he hated being hugged. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I hugged him back tighter. It just felt right.

  As I sank into the shadows of the Dark Room, I mentally declared my intent to arrive in the Boneyard. I was getting better at this long-distance shadowstepping thing. Soon I had crossed the tunnel of the Dark Room, traversing half a city in a matter of seconds and showing up right by my bed, back in the Boneyard.

  I could’ve taken some time to drop in on the boys, if they were even home or awake to begin with, but I knew what I needed. I only came to pick up the ring Carver had lent me, the one that could change my face with its glamour and cloak my energy signature, the unique pattern of soul and vita that marked every being in our reality. Spiritual DNA, in a sense. That covered my bases. The Eyes couldn’t find me then, and the Heart wouldn’t be able to harm me if they couldn’t see me.

  Staring into my dresser mirror, I slipped the ring on, watching with only a little wonder at how my face, my eyes, and my hair rippled and warped, like a pebble had been dropped on a reflection in a pond. Within moments my reflection showed the new me, assembled from the ring’s idea of the kind of face I’d need to wear to go incognito: ginger hair, barely-there eyebrows, and bright green eyes. Sure, why not. I could rock that. Still cute.

  I unloaded the contents of my enchanted backpack, throwing out loose pieces of lint and a couple of receipts before my hand finally made contact with Vanitas somewhere inside the pocket dimension. He grunted in annoyance as my fingers brushed against him. He didn’t like being touched. Vanitas floated out of the backpack by his own power. I couldn’t tell you how I knew, but he was frowning at me.

  “No touchy,” he said. “Unless you absolutely need to use me in a fight. I thought we established that. Also, do you really think this is a good idea?”

  I blinked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Vanitas scoffed. “Our minds are linked, you idiot. I can see what you’re planning to do, and I don’t like it one bit.”

  Damn it. He got me there.

  “Listen. All I’m looking for is information, okay? It’s not like I’m going to do something stupid.”

  “Dustin. Selling your soul to the highest bidder absolutely qualifies as ‘something stupid.’ At least talk to Hecate first. Hell, talk to Carver.”

  Vanitas was right. I hated that he knew exactly what I had planned. Hecate had mentioned the Midnight Convocation. If I could meet the gods there, if I could offer myself to the right entity, maybe I would find the spiritual fuel I’d need to stop the cults from rousing the Eldest.

  It’d be just one step to stopping their horror from infesting our reality, sure, but it was better than sitting around doing jack squat. My soul was a small sacrifice if it meant saving the souls of the hundreds, no, of the thousands who would die if the shrikes broke through the barriers and invaded.

  The main question I couldn’t answer, though: where the hell did the Convocation gather? Where would I even find them?

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s not like I have the right ingredients to get this done. Do you know what Hecate wants as offerings? Honey. A dog. A black ewe. If you think I have the time to gather those reagents – and no way in hell am I slitting a puppy’s throat just to talk to her – ”

  “You’re her fleshling, stupid,” Vanitas grumbled. “You’re obviously one of her favorites. You don’t need to cast a circle or commune to get her attention. Just drop to your knees and pray or something. I’m pretty sure she’ll show up.”

  I still can’t believe I did this, but I followed what Vanitas said to do. I’m not really the religious type, so it was especially strange kneeling by the side of my bed, pressing my hands together, and squeezing my eyes shut.

  “Please, Hecate,” I muttered. “I need you now. I need to talk.”

  I waited, the inside of my chest swirling with hope, and faith, and other emotions I sort of believed would help. Hesitantly, I opened one eye. Nothing. Typical. Hecate showed up when she wanted, not every time some idiot mortal reached out into the ethers and demanded an audience.

  “This isn’t working,” I said.

  “Okay,” Vanitas mumbled. “So maybe she won’t show up.”

  The doorknob turned, and the door to my bedroom swung open. Carver stood there, frozen in the threshold, his gaze flitting from Vanitas floating in midair, then to me, still knelt by the side of my bed. Carver stared at me questioningly.

  “Oh,” I said. “Hello.”

  “I didn’t knock because I assumed you weren’t home,” he said. “I was hoping to sit here and wait for your return. For the sake of simplicity – I won’t ask what it was you thought you were doing.”

  I cleared my throat as I climbed back to my feet, dusting off my jeans. “I was trying to get in touch with Hecate.”

  He kept staring. “You do realize that this is not how communions work. This goes against everything I’ve ever taught you, Dustin.”

  I stuck my hands in my pockets, giving Vanitas the evil eye. “I fucking told you,” I mumbled.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, Carver. Listen. I’ve got an idea about how to stop the rifts from showing up all over the city. Hecate told me about the concept. Patronage, she said, where I offer myself to become a champion of a particular entity.”

  “Patronage?” Carver said, scoffing. “Well I don’t think that we need to go quite that far. Not just yet. Patronage indeed. Did she offer to become your patron? Did she offer to steward you in the arcane arts?”

  “Well, no,” I mumbled.

  “What did she say when you asked?”

  “She laughed, mostly. Said that we weren’t a good fit.”

  “Pah,” Carver said, scoffing again. “Entities. To hell with the lot of them. We’ll deal with our problems on our own. Patronage is the very last thing to consider, Dustin. It is dangerous. Surely the goddess told you of the price you must pay.”

  “She did.”

  “And?”

  “And I think it’s worth it. I’m nothing compared to all the lives we could save. Surely you understand that as well. That’s why you’re working towards redemption, right? You gave up your humanity so you could do what you could to keep away the Eldest.”

  I didn’t expect Carver’s mask-like face to soften. He unfolded his arms, casting his eyes downwards. “I refuse to believe I can force you to choose right from wrong, Dustin. You have been under my tutelage long enough to know what it is you must do. And I have known you long enough to know how impulsive, how hard-headed you can be.”

  “I’m going to find the Midnight Convocation. I’m not asking you to help me, but at least let me try. I can do this.” I clenched my f
ist. “I have to do this.”

  “I know, Dustin.” He smiled sadly. “I couldn’t stop you if I tried.”

  “Then will you at least tell me where to start?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot help you with that. The entities keep tethers to their homes, but for gatherings as large as a Convocation? A gods-moot? It would be far too dangerous for others to know. You will have to speak to one of your allies to find out. One of the entities.”

  The Sisters, I thought immediately. I could head to Silk Road, find their tether and give that a shot.

  “But you must know, Dustin. The consequences of patronage are dire, and permanent. If you wear the Crown of Stars, then you will belong to the night forever, your soul surrendered wholly to the entity that accepts your offer.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said quietly. “I’m nothing, Carver. Nothing, compared to the grand scale of the universe. I’m just a bag of meat that got lucky. A cockroach, like Hecate always said. Just a speck of dust. But I can still help. I can still matter.”

  I’m dust, I thought. But I could still change the world, shift the trajectory of the cosmos, away from chaos and ultimately, towards survival. Preservation.

  I’m Dust, I thought, and this was my destiny.

  Chapter 16

  With Carver’s blessing I went boldly into the night, at least as boldly as someone hiding behind a stranger’s face and creeping in darkness could go. I wasn’t going to risk staying away from the Boneyard for longer than necessary, so I shadowstepped in a single bound, all the way from home to Silk Road.

  It was Valero’s shopping district, the location of the entrance to the Black Market, the arcane underground’s, well, black market, and to a tether that belonged to a trio of very important entities. If I slid my way into a tight alley, right between two stores owned by some very high-end luxury brands, I could get in touch with the Sisters, three entities with a knack for seeking and providing information.