by Rob Cornell
Chapter Thirty-Eight
After closing time, Sly and I sat in his back room. He still had the old recliner that Mom used to sit in when receiving her treatments to try to recover her memory after she woke up from her fugue. It felt weird sitting in it. Another object with another memory, like so many things in my life. There were few places I could go where I wouldn't think about her.
It hurt, but I could accept it.
Sly sat on a tall stool behind his workbench, leaning on his elbows. His lips were screwed up to one side, his gaze distant. He was processing everything I had just told him. I didn't blame him that he was taking so long. Hell, I was still processing it all.
I let him take his time, and he finally came around. He sat up straight, brow furled, shook his head. One corner of his mouth curled up.
“Brother, that is some fucked-up shit.”
I leaned back in the recliner and laughed hard. It felt good to laugh up from the belly. I could do that now, even with one of the most momentous decisions of my life hanging over me. It was a hell of a lot better than struggling to stay alive.
“Fucked-up, indeed.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I looked around the room, at all his neatly organized shelves, then back to him. I shrugged. “I don't know. That's why I came to see you.”
He unfolded his arms and sat straight. He stroked his chin, running his fingers down the line of his freshly cut goatee. “Not sure how much help I could be,” he said.
“That's what I said to Jackey. Why the hell does he think I would make a good prefect?”
“That's not what I meant,” he said. “He's right about the Light name. I don't think you realize how strong your pedigree is.”
“Sure, my parents were awesome scholars. But they weren't politicians. My grandfather was a demon hunter for the gods' sake.”
“You need to study your family tree better,” Sly said. “About four generations ago, Elisa Light was the prefect of Milwaukee. Two generations before that, Graham Light served as an arbiter with the Global Ministry Faction. And your great-great-grandfather? He presided as Detroit's prefect.”
I gaped at him with my mouth hanging open. “How come I never heard any of this?”
He smiled, and it looked a little devious. “Your parents worried you might take advantage of your family's history. You were pretty difficult as a kid, if you don't remember.”
Oh, I remembered. And ever since Dad was killed, and Mom was stunned into a three-year silence, I thought about those days a lot. I thought about how I'd never be able to apologize for being such a punk as a teenager.
“So they kept all that from me, all this time.”
“I guess they figured you would look into it when you were ready. But you were always so busy trying to make your own way, I don't think you ever got the chance.”
“Thanks for making me feel even more guilty.”
“I didn't mean to do that, brother. I just want you to understand why these people seem so anxious to make you their leader. I think you're ready to recognize the full power of your family name. And I think you're ready to live up to that name.”
“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”
He brushed at the surface of his work table, but it looked perfectly clean to me. “I told you, brother, I wouldn't be much help with your decision. Not because I don't want to help you. But because you need to make this decision on your own. I've told you what I know, and how I feel. But I'm not pushing you either way.”
Suddenly sitting seemed unbearable. I popped up to my feet, paced a couple times, then stopped short.
I slowly turned toward Sly.
“Aren't I awfully young to be a prefect?”
“You would be the youngest in history. But that clearly doesn't matter. At least not to the people who want you to take the position.”
I covered my face with my hands and grunted. “I keep waiting for the punch line. This has to be some kind of a joke.”
“If it is, I'm not in on it.”
I looked at the recliner. I could see mom sitting in it. I could see her smile. The long gray braid in her hair. I could hear her voice. Could smell her famous lasagna. Could taste its peppery mix of sausage and ground beef. I remembered myself as a teenager, and the disappointed look in my mother's eyes when she had to ground me for a week because I'd set a bully's pants on fire at school.
Each memory tumbled into the next, creating a domino effect that carried me all the way back to my first memory. I was probably about three. Mom had folded up an origami crane. And then she'd used magic to make it fly.
That was the exact moment I knew that my family was something special. That I was something special.
We were sorcerers. We were the Lights.
I turned my gaze back to Sly.
I couldn't believe what I was about to say.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
My city needed me.
In the end, that's what I decided. I could do a lot more from the top of the Ministry than I could on the streets picking off one demon after another. Besides, there was a lot to reconstruct. With the volatile relationship between the vampires and the Ministry—made even worse now that the conspirators had been purged—and the uncertainty of those members within the Ministry caught in the crossfire during the forced takeover, Detroit's paranormal world sat on the edge of chaos.
It wasn't that I felt I was the only one who could fill the position. There were plenty of people, including Jonah Jackey, who could've filled the role and probably done a lot better job. But for whatever reason, there were a lot of people who wanted a Light to lead them.
If it really made that much of a difference to them, I had to accept that this was the best place for me. Well, not for me.
For them.
But becoming Prefect meant leaving a whole lot behind. Not just my house—since the prefect was expected to live in the RenCen penthouse specifically set aside for the city's Ministry leader. But being the prefect was a big job, which wouldn't leave me a whole lot of time for other things.
Especially one thing in particular.
Just after dark, Odi and I stood by my mother's grave. The drive over had been completely silent. This was the end of something that seemed hardly begun, but no less special, and no less difficult to let go.
Urvasi quickly showed up when I called her. I'd visited earlier, so she knew why we were there. A moment later we were standing in her trans-dimensional living room. She had changed it again. I wondered if she did that just because she was bored. Being trapped by yourself in a prison between worlds must've gotten especially mundane after a hundred years. But as far as I knew, she deserved it. She’d never said otherwise. In fact, she’d never said anything about her apparent crimes at all. Not that I gave a damn. She’d more than proven herself an ally.
She had a brown leather couch in the middle, a couple of matching chairs facing opposite the couch, and more paintings of Kali, but different ones this time, with the many-armed goddess in various new positions and locations.
Urvasi took a seat in one of the chairs. Odi and I took the couch.
“You boys look positively miserable,” she said.
I shrugged. “This isn't exactly where I thought we'd be. My whole world is turned upside down. But it is what it is.”
Urvasi smiled. “Is that acceptance?”
“Yes.”
Beside me, Odi sighed. “This just sucks.”
Urvasi folded her hands in her lap and nodded sagely. “Change is hard. But change is life.”
“I guess.”
I clapped Odi on the shoulder. “Why don't we do introductions?”
He shrugged and continued to sulk.
“Urvasi,” I said. “This is my apprentice, Odi.”
Odi threw up a hand, disgusted. “She already knows that, dude. And I know she's some super sorceress who you're going to pawn me off to.”
My chest felt hollow. I didn't want to do this anymore than he did
, but we didn't have a choice.
“This is for the best, Odi,” I said.
He stared down at his lap and said nothing.
“You know we have to do this.”
“Yeah, but I don't have to like it.”
I laughed softly. “Neither do I.”
Urvasi leaned forward. “I will take good care of you.”
“Besides,” I said. “She's still my mentor, too. We'll still run into each other.”
He didn't look the least bit comforted. “What about…”
I didn't need to ask him to finish his sentence. I knew it was on his mind, because it'd been on my mind, too. And we hadn't taken the time to discuss it, probably because it was a very uncomfortable thing to face.
Urvasi seem to know what he was talking about, too. “There is no shame in what you are. No matter the traditions, myths, or bigotry you may face. Vampires are part of the natural order, just like everything else.”
“So I'm supposed to stalk mortals in the shadows and feed on them? That's the natural order?”
“I can tell you're no predator. But Sebastian's blood can no longer sustain you like it once did. You will have to learn to be what you are.”
I had to admit, I wasn't really sure what she was getting at either. Was she really encouraging Odi to go out into the world and feed on innocents?
“What exactly are you saying?” I asked.
“There are vampires who do not feed on the unwilling,” Urvasi said. “This is something Odi will have to work out on his own.”
I didn't like the sound of that. From the tension I felt in Odi beside me, I gathered he didn't either. At the same time, I trusted Urvasi. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have brought Odi to her. I patted the kid on his shoulder again. “She knows what she's doing. Trust her.”
“I trust you.”
That had to be good enough for now.
I stood and gave Urvasi a hard look. “He means a lot to me. Please do right by him.”
She inclined her head. “I swear that I will.”
And that would have to be good enough, too. “Then I'll leave you to it.”
Odi stood and turned to me. His eyes were glassy, and his nest of red hair looked more mussed than usual. “Dude, can I…” He ran a hand through his hair and wouldn't meet my eyes. “It's stupid. And I know I'm going to see you again. It's not like I'm moving away to boarding school or some shit. But still…”
“Odi, you can tell me anything.”
“I don't want to tell you anything, man. I want to… Fuck it.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tight. “Thank you. You took me in when you didn't have to. You taught me. Became my friend.”
I hugged him back. “Toft kinda made me,” I said lightly. “At first anyway. I'm glad he did.”
I said my goodbyes, and Urvasi transported me out.
I stood before my mother's grave, a lump in my throat. I knelt in the grass and traced my fingers over the engraving of her name in her headstone. “Am I doing the right thing, Mom?”
For a second, I swear I felt a tingle run up from the stone, through my fingers, up my arm, and then straight into my heart. Magic. Her magic.
Maybe there was somewhere on the other side. I decided I'd let myself believe it.
Someday, I would see her and Dad again.
~~~~
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While this is the final installment of the Unturned series, keep an eye out for Orphan Blood, featuring everyone’s favorite vampire sorcerer, Odi Crossman.
Books by Rob Cornell
The Lockman Chronicles
Darker Things (The Lockman Chronicles #1)
Dark Legion (The Lockman Chronicles #2)
Darkest Hour (The Lockman Chronicles #3)
Darkness Returns (The Lockman Chronicles #4)
Darkening Dawn (The Lockman Chronicles #5)
Unturned
Branded (Unturned #1)
Crossed (Unturned #2)
Deceived (Unturned #3)
Enraged (Unturned #4)
Consumed (Unturned #5)
Visit Rob Cornell’s website at robcornellbooks.com
About the Author
Rob Cornell is the author of The Lockman Chronicles, a five-book urban fantasy series featuring ex-government agent and monster hunter, Craig Lockman. He is also the author of Branded, the first book in a new series about Detroit sorcerer, Sebastian Light. Raised on a steady diet of Star Wars, He-Man, G.I. Joe, and Transformers, Rob has always spent much of his time wandering the halls of his imagination, conjuring stories. Nowadays, he writes them down like a responsible adult. He lives in rural Southeast Michigan with his family.
Published by Paradox Publications
Copyright © 2017 by Rob Cornell
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Beth Flumignan
Consumed is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.