by Nazri Noor
“This is the better option, Dustin.” Thea’s jewelry clicked against her desk as she lay her palms flat against it. “You’ll be safer here.”
I scratched at the bridge of my nose, fully aware that I should stop probing and resisting, but I just couldn’t shut up. “Why would they even want me?”
The room seemed to darken just that little bit more. “Oh, I don’t know, Dustin. Maybe because you found the bodies? You were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. And have you considered the possibility that those men might have something to do with the night you were murdered? The Black Hand, remember? How can you be so brazen about this?”
I think I might have tuned the rest of it out, not for want of quiet, but because this was all stuff I’d heard and told myself before. I bit my lip and alternated between staring at the ground and mournfully up into Thea’s face as she gave me the tongue-lashing of a lifetime. It was a full few minutes before she stopped, and by then her cheeks were rosier from the effort, and, far likelier, the irritation.
“I’m sorry,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
Thea sighed, like a long-suffering mother. “Don’t apologize. Just promise you won’t do anything silly on your own from now on.” She shook her head and drummed her fingers against her desk. “Just stick to the inside of the Lorica for now. This isn’t a permanent thing, Dustin, don’t worry. And you’ll be allowed supervised time out if you feel like going somewhere. But for now, just keep a low profile, okay?”
I nodded. I could tell from her eyes and her tone that this was all out of concern. Thea was just looking out for me, after all, and I was being the stubborn knucklehead who kept defying her. I almost found myself saying “I’ll be good,” but caught myself in time.
“I’ll go move into my bunk, then.”
That got a small laugh out of her, at least. “Okay, you go do that. I’ll check in on you later. We might have something for you to do around here after all.” I nodded, then quietly let myself out of her office.
I was right about 17B, as it turned out. No one had heard of it, at least none of the regulars I’d asked, and it was further off into the east wing than I’d ever ventured. It gave new meaning to what Thea was saying about the Lorica providing for its own, almost as if the building had a sentience to it, accommodating me in this new section that had seemingly been carved out of empty space.
It wasn’t exactly difficult to find the room, either. I’d only taken a few steps in the general direction of my new quarters when I noticed the designs in the carpet shifting, changing shape. The carpet was unfurling a new pattern made completely out of pulsing red and blue arrows, all pointing towards the east wing.
I decided early on that sometimes it was best not to question how these things worked, though I admit I had some reservations about sleeping there. I mean, if the building could create a new room out of thin air, who was to say that it couldn’t reclaim that space whenever it wanted?
But quite a lot of my doubts dissolved just as soon as I opened the door to 17B. It was cozy, actually, and warm, and going by decor alone it was much better than my own apartment by leaps and bounds. Everything on the inside was white – a by-product of the fact that it was Thea who had requisitioned the space – but that was fine by me. I thought it would be nice to live in a room that didn’t have peeling paint or carpeting curling up in the corners for once.
All the room had were a couple of chairs and a table, a closet, and a comfy-looking bed, all in fetching shades of Thea’s signature ivory. I started to unpack on the bed, feeling extra sensitive about spilling any of my toiletries on the pristine perfection of the sheets, when I had a keen sense that something was, I don’t know, shifting, somehow. I turned around, only to find that the sparse furniture and closet had lost their gleaming whiteness, now exhibiting a wooden finish instead.
Huh. This was more my speed. Thea wasn’t kidding. The room – or the part of the Lorica that was designated as my room – was adjusting to me, and I watched with bemusement as the walls slid lazily into a pale gray, the color of a midday storm.
I turned back to the bed, ready to unpack in this decidedly more comfortable environment, and tried not to be too pleased with myself when the bed frame morphed from a white-painted metal to a much homier wooden design, the sheets dyeing themselves before my very eyes from shocking white to a deep midnight blue, finished with tiny speckles that made the bed look like a field of stars. Awesome.
I put away my stuff, hanging what clothes I had in the closet, then went to the bathroom to freshen up. Sure, I’d gotten some sleep the night before, a little to ease the exhaustion from those consecutive work days, but it didn’t quite feel like enough. I figured splashing some cold water on my face would help.
Even as I stepped into the blinding white of the bathroom it took on the same midnight blue as my bedsheets, making the shower stall and the tiles gleam like deep sapphires. Briefly I wondered how much it would cost to actually do up my place to look like this. The whole living at HQ thing might not be so bad, I figured, twisting the faucet.
Ice-cold water did the trick to help keep me standing on my feet, but I knew I’d have to down another cup of coffee before long. I turned off the faucet then rubbed at my eyes long enough to look in the mirror, then nearly jumped when I saw a different face staring back at me.
“Bastion. Jesus. You trying to kill me?”
He was standing behind me, staring back through the mirror in what was supposed to look like genuine surprise, but I knew him well enough. The bastard had crept up on me just to freak me out.
Bastion shrugged, the smile creeping across his lips just equal parts friendly and condescending. “What, hey. I was just dropping by to say hello. Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?”
Maybe, I thought, it was because of all the bizarre surprises I’d had over the course of just a few days. Harrowing encounters with faces thrust up against mine, for example, like that episode with Arachne where I thought she was going to eat my face off shortly before she kissed me, or that run-in with the vampire who clearly had no concept of personal space. But I said none of those things and just frowned at him in the mirror.
“Can I help you, Brandt? Kind of busy here.”
Bastion snorted. “Washing your face?”
“Yes, busy washing my face. What do you want, anyway? Can’t a guy get a little bathroom time on his own around here?”
Bastion folded his arms. “I guess not. You’ve got to admit, this is all pretty – unorthodox. And I’m not here stalking you. You think I make a habit of exploring every new place that pops up in HQ?”
He had a point. I was pretty sure that nobody apart from Thea and admin knew about 17B. Which meant –
“Thea sent you?”
Bastion shrugged. “For whatever reason. Said to wait for her here.”
I had an immediate sinking feeling. That my earlier encounter with Thea had involved such a severe haranguing made the prospect of seeing her again so soon less than pleasurable. I wiped irritably at my forehead with the back of my sleeve.
“Don’t do that,” Bastion said, unfolding his arms, almost reaching out with a hand to stop me. “Here.” He tossed me a towel from the pile on my bed.
“Um. Thanks.” I rubbed at my face, eyeing him warily.
“No, no. You should dab. Just, like, pat at your face. Gives you wrinkles otherwise, if you’re too harsh with your skin.”
“Wow. Okay. Wasn’t expecting beauty tips from you, but here we are.” I patted at my skin as he watched, his expression a little too vigilant. “You do this yourself?”
Bastion nodded, his face stern, serious. “Keeps me pretty.”
I laughed. This might have been the longest we’d been in the same space without wanting to kill each other. But then a voice drifted in from the doorway, and I felt relief in knowing that the pressure of discovering whether I could actually be friends with Bastion was off.
“This isn’t so bad,” Prudence said, walkin
g in with her arms folded, appraising the room.
“Yeah?” I said, grinning. I panicked, briefly, wondering if I had left any of my underwear on my bed. Quick check: I was clear. I’d packed it all in the closet. “You like what I’ve done with the place?”
Bastion grunted. “I mean it hardly took any effort.”
I tutted and cocked my head. “You had to ruin it, Brandt. And you and I were getting along so well, too.”
“Play nice, boys.”
Thea’s voice flooded the room with its authority, and both Bastion and Prudence’s spines went straighter just as soon as she walked in. It was a reminder that even in the arcane underground, everyone knew that you were supposed to look and be your sharpest when your boss was sniffing around.
“That’s what I keep telling them,” Prudence said. I tried to get her attention, to give her a betrayed look, but I could tell she was avoiding my gaze.
“They’ll learn to get along with each other soon enough,” Thea said.
Ominous. Bastion’s breathing hitched. I broke the silence, directing my question at Thea.
“Is. Is there some reason the two of them are here?”
I could swear her face almost cracked from the effort of trying not to smile. “Because Leung and Brandt are your bodyguards now.”
Prudence seemed unsurprised, but Bastion and I must have cried out in protest at precisely the same time.
Bastion piled more kindling on the fire, thrusting an accusing finger in my face. “What makes him so damn important, anyway?”
“Bastion. Shush.” Thea turned to me. “Dustin, I’ve told you enough times. It isn’t safe for you to be out there on your own anymore. But just because there’s all this going down right now, doesn’t mean that your training has to stop. We need all the information we can get, and I trust you enough to initiate your own communion now.”
The memory of Arachne’s domicile, sickly green and venomous, stuck at my throat. “You mean I’m going to talk to an entity?”
“As the initiator, yes, on your own. Prudence and Bastion will accompany you, but only as your protectors. You will perform the ritual to access the domicile yourself, and you will attempt to curry the entity’s favor.” She raised her head just the fraction of an inch higher, as if slightly proud.
“You did so well the last time that I’m confident you’ll do just as well this go around. If you get more information about the murders, so much the better. And if you somehow finagle a contract out of this, well, that would be the very best outcome. It can’t hurt for you to find some way to defend yourself.”
For what felt like the third time, Bastion scoffed.
“Brandt,” Prudence shot out. “Please.” She looked to me, as if sensing my confusion. “A contract represents what an entity might do for you. Think of it as a gift, whether it’s information, or a favor. Even power.”
My spine tingled. “Power?”
Thea nodded. “We all have limits to the magic we can exhaust from our bodies and our surroundings, but an entity – especially a strong one – might grant you the ability to dip into their well, so to speak.”
“It’s like hooking yourself up to a generator,” Bastion said. “One that doesn’t quit.”
“Holy crap.” That was what happened the night the vampire chased me. I’d used my magic so much that my tank was running on empty. My head buzzed at the prospect of a contract.
“Exactly,” Thea said. “And it’s crucial that you wrap this all up because the clock is ticking. There’s been another murder.”
Bastion frowned. I gaped. Prudence didn’t flinch at all. She already knew, on top of things as she always was.
“Lei Kung,” Prudence said. “A thunder god, from the Chinese pantheon. Not quite as known or as influential as the big wigs like Thor or Zeus, but his destruction will still have its impact.”
“Same circumstances,” Thea said. “Coaxed out of the protection of his realm and slain in our world. Time will tell how long it’ll take for his absence to warp this reality.”
As if on cue, a massive peal of thunder rocked the air outside of HQ. The lights flickered. I exchanged a wary glance with Bastion, then turned back to Thea, mouth dry.
“Sooner than we thought, apparently,” she said. “Best get a move on. Get more information, or seal a contract. Just do something.”
“I’ll do my best,” I croaked. “But who are we talking to this time?”
“Someone a little more fickle, and I dare say a little more esoteric than our friend Arachne. This one has a tendency to speak in puzzles, and I think it’s safe to say that she’s remarkably more dangerous, which is why your charisma will be infinitely important in sweetening your communion.”
“Dangerous?” I said, not meaning to groan, but fully doing so anyway. I looked to both Prudence and Bastion for a reaction, but if they were fearful or uncomfortable at all with what we were being tasked to do, they didn’t show it.
“Dangerous, yes,” Thea said. “Comes with the territory. After all, it’s not every day you’ll be tasked to commune with an actual goddess of magic.”
Chapter 10
The club was called Temple, and it was packed with beautiful people come to worship and adore each other, or the DJ, or the lure of a watery cocktail. Temple vibrated, both from the music and the sudden thunderstorm raging outside. I could feel the music in my throat, trying to punch its way into, or out of my body. It was hard to tell.
It was synth wave disco industrial baby killer night, or some other string of words I probably got in the wrong order. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some electronic music, but tonight the DJ was spinning something that sounded like a lawnmower trying to eat another lawnmower.
I looked over at Prudence, who clearly felt very much the same way. Her face was wrinkled up as we maneuvered our way through the crowd, trying to push through the swell of people to reach the bar at the far end of the establishment.
Who knew why they wanted a packed dance floor up front, but if the plan was to attract more business by showing that they had a full house of writhing supermodels grinding it out just by the entrance, then they did it right.
Prudence’s mood was darkening with every unintentional jostle a dancer inflicted on her, and I knew her fists were balled up so tightly that her fingernails were digging into her skin. Bastion, on the other hand, was clearly loving it, and that just made me hate him a little bit more.
He was dancing, not at all badly, I noted, as we wove our way through the throng. Here and there he would lean in and whisper something in someone’s ear, though how he managed to get anything through over the pounding dance music was anyone’s guess. But it got the intended reaction anyway.
The women he whispered to threw him intrigued glances as he half-sauntered, half-ground his way across the dance floor. Once I saw him touch a girl lightly on the forearm, the friendly grin on his face returned with batted eyelashes and a simper. I thought we were there for work, but apparently we’d thrust Bastion directly into his element, and he was thoroughly enjoying every second of it.
We made it to the far end of the club, close enough to the bar that shouting at the top of our lungs would let us understand each other again. It was at that point that Prudence had obviously had enough, and she dragged Bastion bodily away from the last girl he had made contact with, cuffing him by the collar.
The girl locked eyes with Prudence, then thought better of a confrontation. Bastion, to my surprise, took his separation in good humor and merely adjusted his leather jacket. I didn’t need to hear to understand what he was saying. I could make it out from the way he held up his hands and shrugged, head cocked to the side.
“Aww, come on, Prue. There’s plenty for everybody.”
Through the multicolored strobe lights of the club, I could still see Prudence’s cheeks going an angry red. She had to work with this guy on a regular, mind you. How she managed to stop herself from punching him in the teeth every five minutes was anybody’s gue
ss.
I followed as she dragged him to the bar, which may as well have been a parade float. Three bartenders worked the semi-circular counter, allowing them to sling drinks to everyone within a hundred and eighty degrees. It was a neon behemoth, done up in the hot pinks and electric blues that were all the rage in the eighties, and that seemed to be coming back for some temporary renaissance. Hell, it was six times bigger than the DJ’s booth. I kind of felt bad for him, but I guess Temple really liked making money.
“So what exactly are we doing here again?” I yelled to no one in particular.
“Gathering information,” Prudence yelled back. “We need to find the entity’s gateway.” Mercifully, she stopped moving towards the bar, saving me the indignity of screaming myself hoarse.
But I had to cup my hands over my mouth to get my point across anyway. “Don’t we just check a map for that?”
Bastion’s guffawing carried over the relentless boom-boom of the club’s speakers. It was like a dog whistle, and I was pretty certain that even after we had left Temple, hours after my eardrums had been blown out, I’d still be able to hear nothing except the exact infuriating frequency of his laughter.
He made gestures with his hands, subtle ones that could have looked like someone motioning as he spoke, his lips moving the whole time. Not that a casual observer would have been able to tell by Temple’s flashing interiors, but his fingers left strands of white light as he worked. He ended the sequence by running his hand through his hair – because even when casting a spell, Sebastion Brandt could still be kind of a douche.
A faint tingling sheared through the air. The noise around us seemed duller, the pulsing beat of the club muted, and when he spoke, I could almost hear him in my ear.
“Honestly, Graves,” he said, grinning that self-satisfied grin. “It’s like you never pay attention, even when your mom’s talking.”
I knew he was talking about Thea, but somehow Bastion’s schoolyard bully jab of bringing up my mother – even though he had no way of knowing she was dead – stung more than it should have. I said nothing.