Penumbra

by Nazri Noor

  “I – I’m sorry?”

  “You could have jeopardized the artifact’s retrieval. You could have hurt yourself, or worse, lost the sword.”

  Ouch. I guess the Gallery valued objects more than the Lorica’s people. I tried not to flinch too hard at his remark.

  “If you’re going to be a Hound, you’re going to have to learn to take orders. No gallivanting around with a precious artifact tucked under your armpit. No straying from your directives.”

  All fine points. I couldn’t muster the will to argue. “I – yes. Okay.” Plus something about Herald’s demeanor told me he wasn’t the type I wanted to anger.

  “Take it as friendly advice,” Herald said, his smile returning as he said the word “friendly.” The hostility melted from his face and he was just a regular guy again. I had no complaints. “It would be good for you to stick around. Come hang out any time. I’d be happy to show you the Gallery.”

  “Hey, I’d love to. And I guess I get to drop by and visit Vanitas, too.”

  Herald restrained a tiny snort. “Sure, why not.” I eyed Vanitas in his case, wondering at his extensive silence. The crimson gems in his hilt were dulled, too. Maybe the fight in the Meathook had taken something out of him.

  “You’d best get going. I hear Thea wants to see you, and considering your position, I really wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

  Before I could answer, a voice lilted from across the Gallery. To most, its tone might have been described as musical. To me, it was discordant and irritating. It raised my hackles.

  “That’s right, Dusty,” Bastion called out in his infuriating singsong. Prudence trailed along behind him, clutching her temples and shaking her head. “I knew we’d find you here.”

  I gave Herald a cursory nod, then resisted the urge to give Bastion the finger. “Seriously, at a time like this? Cut the crap, Brandt, I really need to get going.”

  Prudence, like a long-suffering partner, shrugged and shook her head. “I tried to stop him, but he guessed where you were and wanted to get one last dig in.”

  “Just another dig before Thea blows your ass apart, or fires you.” Bastion grinned. “Either would be hilarious.”

  “Well now you’re just being shitty,” I said.

  “Really though, Dust,” Prudence said. “I did tell you to head directly back to HQ. Walking through the Meathook with the sword in your arms? Honestly.”

  Somehow it hurt more coming from Prudence. I chewed my lip and stared at the tip of my shoe. I could hear Bastion snickering as he prepared another salvo to launch at me, but he seemed to stop mid-breath. For that matter, everyone seemed to stop breathing.

  The reflection on the parquet flooring told me that there was something luminous here with us, some new presence brightening the entirety of the Gallery, only that brightening wasn’t the right term to use. You know how a room, or even the weather seems to darken when someone whose opinion you value gets mad at you? This was that, except that the room was getting brighter, the light almost suffocating.

  From behind me I heard Herald clear his throat and scuffle away, making some excuse about dusting the spell books. I looked up at last. Bastion was gone, no doubt squirreled away somewhere between the bookcases. Prudence stood with her hands clasped and her eyes on the ground. Her gaze flitted to me every so often, her eyes pitying. And at the end of the hall, approaching like a slow, lumbering sun, was Thea.

  I couldn’t say if the light was pouring out of her jewels, or from her very skin, or if it was just an aftereffect of her already powerful presence, but it filled me with no end of intimidation. She crooked a finger at me and beckoned.

  “Graves. My office. Now.”

  Chapter 16

  Sitting in Thea’s office, I realized, was very much like sitting from across a principal’s desk, an experience I was intimately familiar with. I could also compare it to the feeling of sitting opposite an employer who was on the cusp of firing you – at least for those odd jobs where I was given the decency of notice, like that bike delivery one, and that really brief stint I had as a phone sex operator – and that made me squirm even more under her gaze.

  “What. Were. You. Thinking.”

  Thea’s voice was colder, and the light from her body was dimmer. Somehow that only made it worse.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, focusing on the desk, which wasn’t easy because it was transparent and only made me stare at her shoes instead, which looked super expensive and more than sturdy enough to step on my throat and crush my trachea. “I thought things were going to be fine.”

  Thea drummed her fingers against the table. “In the Meathook? Seriously? Even knowing nothing about the Veil or the Lorica you know better than to go traipsing around there at night. You’ve lived in Valero all your life, haven’t you?”

  I swallowed thickly. Yes, I was aware of the Meathook’s colorful reputation, and it had been shoved down my throat multiple times tonight alone by many different people, but I wasn’t about to say that.

  “I’m sorry, again.” I dared to look her in the face this time, because if I was going to get terminated – whatever that meant at a place like the Lorica – I wanted to be able to make a spirited, if honest defense for myself. “I got cocky, okay? I thought that I’d be able to just step my way out of trouble now that I know what it is that I can do.” I scratched my nose, sighing as I said the next bit. “And okay. Maybe I got careless because I knew I was under the Lorica’s protection.”

  The wrinkles around Thea’s eyes relaxed, her expression going just a notch softer. “That protection only goes so far, Dustin. We can’t have Eyes watching you at all hours, and you’re not always going to have Hands to escort you. The whole point of this exercise was to see if you can handle things on your own. That’s what the other Hounds do.”

  I folded my hands together and stared at my thumbs. Other Hounds, maybe. I guess I wasn’t cut out to become one of them. Disappointment settled in the pit of my stomach. Sorry, dad. Again.

  Thea sighed. “Next time, just call a damn car, will you?”

  I lifted my head at that. “Next time?” There was going to be a next time?

  The corner of Thea’s mouth quirked. Not quite a smile, but not quite a frown either. “You made a mistake. A grievous one, but not something that can’t be fixed. I’m confident that given time we’ll be able to beat the insubordination out of you.”

  I gulped.

  “Or at least your propensity to make extremely terrible choices about walking around alone late at night. That’s what got you into this mess to begin with.”

  Ouch. But that was only fair. She wasn’t wrong.

  “I’m giving you another chance,” she said. A deeper exhalation of breath, then she continued. “There’s something about you that we need to cultivate, Mr. Graves. The Lorica isn’t quite done with you. We need to see how far your gift can go. You’re – unique, to say the least.”

  Charm had taken me this far in life. I figured it couldn’t hurt to see how much farther it could take me. I ventured a tiny smile. “So you’re saying I’m special?”

  To my relief, Thea laughed. “Special, yes, to a point. We’ll have to see yet if you’re exceptional.” She steepled her fingers and leaned forward. “If you’re worth the time and effort.”

  “But,” I blustered. This was a farce, at first, but somehow I felt honor-bound to defend my specialness. “The sword. Vanitas. It resonated with me. Herald said so. It picked me. It chose me.”

  She chuckled again. “And I suppose that makes you think you’re some kind of Chosen One?”

  I felt my ears going hot, realizing how ridiculous I must sound to her. “Well, no, but – ”

  “There are no Chosen Ones at the Lorica, Mr. Graves. There is no grand Prophecy that must be fulfilled by a Special Boy. There are only those who work hard to prove themselves, who show that they are willing to do what it takes to learn, to grow, to acquire both knowledge and power.” Her eyes narrowed. “And to take
orders.”

  I nodded, this time without saying a word. Really shouldn’t push my luck. I watched, though, as Thea reached across the table, her fingers splayed out, reaching for my hand, but not quite touching. I looked up, surprised at the gesture.

  “I know how it feels right now, that you’re still longing to go back to your father, to talk to him, to make things right. I’m here to tell you that now is not the time. But eventually, we’ll find a way.”

  This was it. Everything I ever wanted. Security, friends, an actual job. Here was some hope, even if it was distant, of reclaiming what mattered most about my old life: my family. Real magic, to sweeten the deal, and maybe, if I played my cards right, an enchanted sword. How’s that for benefits?

  “And in time, because you have the aptitude for it, we might even be able to teach you a spell or two. Soon. It may take a while to see results, but I sense you have the tenacity for it.”

  “That sounds great,” I said. What I really wanted to do was jump up on her desk, pump my fist, and beat my chest, screaming. Instead I sat with my butt glued firmly to the chair.

  “So, pending some behavioral concerns, I think we might be able to begin negotiations for your salary. Would you like to work for us, Mr. Graves?” She leaned forward across her desk again, and as if she needed to convince me any more, spoke slowly. “How would you like to find your own killer?”

  My back straightened at the sound of those words, and I looked her in the eye when I spoke. “I would like that very much.” Justice. Maybe, in time, vengeance. “Very much.”

  Thea leaned back, satisfied, and smiled. “Death has changed a great many things, but I think you know by now that it was never meant to be the end for you.” She lifted her hand across the desk once more, reaching her fingers out, an invitation, a contract. “Dustin Graves. Are you ready to start your life anew?”

  I took her hand.

  END

  About the Author

  Hi, I'm Nazri, a Filipino-Malaysian author based in California. I’m trilingual, but I really only write in English. I can also speak just enough Sindarin and Valyrian to impress absolutely no one. My urban fantasy novels focus on heroes who use wits, style, and their wildly unpredictable magic to save the day. Think sass and class, while kicking ass.

  My influences come from horror and fantasy: HP Lovecraft, Anne Rice, George R.R. Martin, Chuck Palahniuk, Terry Pratchett, and Neil Gaiman. Growing up I was shaped by the Blood Sword, Fighting Fantasy, Lone Wolf, and Grey Star game book universes. I'm also inspired by video games, specifically the Castlevania, Final Fantasy, and Persona series.

  Long story short, I'm a huge nerd, and the thrill of imagining wizards and monsters and worlds into existence is what makes me feel most alive. Writing, to me, is magic. Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting independent authors everywhere.

  Need to read more of my stories? Start at the very beginning. Read Shadow Magic now.