by Nazri Noor
The skeleton’s laughter was good-natured, and deeply eerie considering the context and the messenger. “None at all, fleshling. You cannot kill us here. Not by normal means, anyway. You have earned our curiosity. And perhaps – a gift.”
I had no real way of telling, but I knew that Hecate’s skull was smiling at me. It was creepy as hell. More unsettling, though, was how tiny particles began moving across her bones, like thousands of ants marching over her skeleton.
“Oh God,” Bastion muttered to himself. My thoughts were very much the same.
They weren’t insects, but bits of Hecate’s flesh, reassembling and knitting over her skeleton, filling out her frame and reforming her body. My stomach churned as muscle, sinew, and fat stitched itself into existence, as her organs materialized seemingly out of thin air, then began pulsing, beating. All the while the death’s head of her skull kept grinning at us, until it too began closing over with ribbons and ridges of new flesh. Grossest thing I’d ever seen, at that point.
“Don’t be so perturbed,” Hecate said. “We only take this form because it is so familiar to you. This is what you fleshlings look like on the inside, is it not?”
“Sure,” Prudence said cautiously. “But we don’t tend to see our own insides unless it involves injury. Or death.”
Hecate scoffed, something that looked more natural now that her lips were growing back. As was her skin, I noted. Small mercies.
“You fleshlings really are so touchy about death.”
“With all due respect,” I said, “we kind of have to be, Hecate. We can’t do – well, whatever it is you’re doing now. We get one life, and that’s it.”
Hecate nodded, her new head of hair tumbling with its perfect raven locks as she did. “A fine point. But you were never in any real danger. We wouldn’t have killed you. We can’t go around killing every mage who steps into our domicile. Then we would have wizards knocking on our door demanding justice every hour.”
Sensing that we were probably mostly out of danger, Bastion finally relaxed his stance. “You could have fooled us. Didn’t seem like you were holding back.”
Hecate laughed again, her body now fully formed, breasts and hair and beautiful skin unmarred, like it all hadn’t just been pulverized by something the size and velocity of a runaway train just minutes before. Her cloak of midnight stitched itself back together over the milky pallor of her body. It draped around her shoulders, and I realized that I couldn’t tell where her hair ended and the cloak began. From where I stood, both, it seemed, were speckled with little stars.
“You fleshlings are more capable than you think. We were confident.” She raised a finger, crooking it in my direction. “But this little one has surprised us. We have never seen anything quite like him.”
She snapped her fingers. A ball of sickly green flame burned in the air right before her. I stepped back on reflex. Didn’t she say no more games? But the flames receded as suddenly as they’d appeared, leaving in their place a massive book suspended in midair. Its cover was the blackest black I’d ever seen, like something from out of the void. Hecate spread her arms and the book began flipping through its pages.
“That’s her own grimoire,” Bastion said, whispering into my ear, pressing against me in what felt like such an unnecessarily conspiratorial way.
“Really,” I deadpanned. “What tipped you off?”
“Imagine what she keeps there,” Prudence said. “A goddess of magic. Imagine what she knows.”
“Quite a lot, actually,” Hecate said distractedly, more to the air than to our huddle. “Enough that we can hear everything that’s spoken inside our realm.” She lifted her head to peek above the grimoire’s massive pages, giving us an odd smile. “We need to keep things secure, after all.”
The air around her wavered, and again there were three Hecates, all staring intently at the grimoire. It rustled through its pages so quickly that nothing human could have caught even a glimpse of its contents. Then the three of them each stabbed a finger at the book, and the pages stopped flipping.
“Here it is.”
I stood on tiptoes, trying to figure out what “it” was, exactly.
“Curious,” one Hecate said. “The little one steps between shadows,” said another. “Yet it isn’t all that he can do,” said the last.
I shrugged and threw up my hands. “That’s honestly all I know how to do. I’m good at stepping because I’m good at hiding and – I guess at running away from things.”
It was strange how poignant the words pouring out of my own mouth were sounding to my ears, but I filed it all away for later inspection. I really was good at running away, from a lot of things. Even the good things.
“Thea – my mentor once told me that the magic we know, that we’re good at, it comes from who we are as people. That’s who I am.”
Hecate’s mouth twisted in distaste, black lips bent into a sneer. “You fleshlings are so limited by what you think, what you believe, so much that you forget how resilient you are, how you can adapt, and change, and evolve, and survive. Like cockroaches, you are. You run and you run, little one.” All three Hecates tilted their heads. “When will you stop running and turn to face your darkness? When will you take control?”
Prudence and Bastion shifted at my side, their expressions flat, but curious. I didn’t know if Hecate was speaking to how I was dealing with the whole business about the murders, or my own death, or hell, my relationship with my father, but what she said was making sense in a couple of painful ways.
When I started working for the Lorica, I never guessed my life would get sorted out by an encounter with a manifestation of an ancient Greek deity. This was better than a shrink, but at least ten times as dangerous. And probably a few dozen times more terrifying.
“The shadows are your friends, Dustin Graves.” Hecate waved her hand. The book and the apparitions all disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. She stepped forward, into her own shadow – then appeared inches from my face.
I stumbled back. What the hell? She just – she just shadowstepped.
“Embrace them,” Hecate said, her voice like velvet, her eyes solid pools of liquid black. “Immerse in them. Understand the darkness, and it will be yours to command.”
“I – I don’t understand.”
Hecate shook her head. “You will in time. For now, remember. You are in charge of your own destiny. There is no future but the one you create.” She reached out and stroked a lock of hair away from my forehead. Her hand was soft, warm. Her touch was gentle.
“Dust,” Bastion muttered, his voice ringing with warning.
Maybe it’s crazy to say it now, but more than anything the entire night – more than the living chains and the dissonant song of pan flutes, and how the mad goddess had stitched herself to life right in front of us – this was what I found strangest of all. The way she tousled my hair like a mother would, the way she smiled at me. The way the pools of shadow that were her eyes twinkled as she smiled – the way they suddenly filled with stars.
Prudence lunged for me. “Dustin, no.”
“Embrace the shadows,” Hecate whispered. “The Dark Room is your home. Take comfort in it. No more running.”
“I don’t understand,” I breathed.
“You need to get it through your thick skull, fleshling.” Hecate smiled. “The door opens from both ends.”
She touched my forehead with the tip of a single finger. The warmth of her skin escalated until it burned like a coal, then like molten steel, a spear-tip fresh from the fire. I screamed, the pain of it stabbing between my eyes, piercing my skull, setting my brain aflame.
The stars in Hecate’s eyes swirled as she muttered, the pair of them like twin galaxies. The pain ripped through my skin, every cell in my body ablaze with agony. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
Then all at once, the stars went out.
Chapter 14
When I came to, it was dark, and I was on my back on something soft. Comfor
table, almost, and padded. For the glimmer of a second I convinced myself that I was in a coffin, my body pressed against the padded interior. I gasped and cried out.
Ah. Of course. It was a bed, and not a coffin at all. It took a while for me to register that I should open my eyes. The lids of them were heavier, like I’d been drugged. I forced my eyes open slowly and breathed easier when I saw that I was just in my bedroom. Not at my apartment, mind you, but the new place designated for me at Lorica HQ. Room 17B. I let my head flop back onto my pillow and sighed. I was content to be resting, and alone.
“Dude. It’s okay.”
Except that I wasn’t. I started again, not even realizing that someone else was in the room with me, and for some reason my instinct was to draw the covers up around me. Not that I was naked, as far as I could tell, but there was something extra vulnerable about being caught in bed, on my back, my soft underbelly exposed. I’d already been killed once. Laying on my back on flat surfaces could still be unsettling for me.
“I said it’s okay,” Bastion said.
A hand looped reassuring fingers around my wrist, and to my own surprise, I didn’t recoil from his touch. I opened my eyes again, thinking I was hallucinating, but I wasn’t. There he was, in a chair by my bed, standing – rather, sitting guard like a sentinel. Sebastion Brandt, once an enemy, and now – my caretaker? Nurse? I blinked the thought away.
“I’m okay,” I said, or rather, tried to say. The words tumbled out of my mouth in an unintelligible mumble, my tongue leaden, my throat parched. I tried to say something else, but all I could do was produce hoarse puffs of breath. I gasped, mentally reminding myself not to panic.
“It’s okay,” Bastion repeated, and I knew he was only trying to be helpful, but there were only so many times he could say that before I stopped believing him. Then he reached for something at my side, fumbling, and I heard the gorgeous sound of water splashing into a glass. I could taste it before I even saw it. Bastion brought the glass to my lips. Water never tasted so good.
“Careful. Slow.”
“Mmhmm,” I managed between gulps of water. “Thank you.” Ah. I could finally say things. Much better.
“You’ve been out for a while.”
I licked my lips, glancing at the glass in his hand, eager for more water. “I figured. Thirsty as hell. Would you mind?” Bastion nodded obligingly, pouring me another drink. “How long have I been out?”
“Let’s see,” he said, gently tipping water into my mouth. “I want to say it’s been about – ”
His eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he held one hand out, counting off on his fingers, mouthing numbers silently. “I guess about twenty-seven hours now.”
I almost choked on my water. “What? How is that possible?”
Bastion shrugged. “Guess you were exhausted. Prue says it was the effort of shadowstepping so much in such a short period of time. My guess is that whatever Hecate did took a lot out of you.” He replaced the glass on the side table. “Thea says it was both.”
“What did she do to me?”
“Nothing horrible, as far as we can tell. Call me crazy but I think she liked you. But whatever it was knocked you out on the spot. Had to carry you here.”
“Had to?” I blinked again, my eyes focusing on Bastion’s face. Somehow he didn’t look as annoying as he used to, maybe because he wasn’t making such an effort to be a douche, for once. “You mean you carried me yourself?”
I could see him redden. “Don’t flatter yourself. You needed help, and I wasn’t going to make Prue do it herself.” He scratched his nose, the back of his neck, the redness still in his cheeks. “Thea told us to take care of you. I don’t need her on my ass, too.” He scratched his eyebrow next, turning his gaze up to the ceiling again, then sighed, his shoulders slumping just so slightly. “And fine, maybe I thought you deserved a break. What you did with Hecate back there? That was risky. And dangerous. But it paid off.”
I did my best not to smile, but Bastion was paying me a compliment. I never thought I’d see the day.
“I – I guess it was kind of badass.” He cleared his throat. “Good job, rookie.” Then he furrowed his brow and leaned closer to the bed. “But you tell anyone I was ever nice to you and I swear I’ll snap you in half. Won’t take me much work, either.”
I smiled again. “Fine. Our little secret.”
The hardness receded from Bastion’s face, and he even allowed himself to smile a little, giving me a small nod. But that all washed away when a knock came at the door.
It creaked open slowly – just like the door at my apartment, like the Lorica somehow knew to pluck even that detail from out of my mind – and Thea poked her head in. The room seemed brighter somehow, and I knew at that point to chalk it up to her presence. Something about the woman just oozed radiance. The sight of her, especially her sudden, eager smile, was certainly enough to cheer me up, even a little.
“Knock knock,” she said, stepping in, the bright white of her clothes bringing even more illumination into the bedroom.
I smiled back. “Thought it was Prudence.”
“Not quite,” Thea said. “She’s out for work.”
Bastion nodded at her in greeting. “Sup,” he said, in that half-bored drone he liked to use. “He just got up.”
Thea nodded. “I can take over from here. You should go grab some lunch. It’s late.”
Bastion shifted in his chair. “It’s cool, I can stay.”
“It’s fine, Brandt. I’d like some one-on-one time with Dustin here. And you’ve been here for hours. Prudence tells me you got in at nine and just disappeared.”
Bastion stared at the ground, his ears reddening again. I quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. We were getting along well enough that I didn’t want to rub salt in his wounds.
It was flattering, though, that he’d spent all that time watching over me. Either Bastion took Thea’s orders much more seriously than I’d thought, or, and this was the truly horrifying part – maybe he was a good guy on the inside after all.
The chair’s legs scraped against the floor as Bastion got up abruptly. His eyes flitted from the side table, to Thea’s face, then mine. “I’ll – see you around, I guess.”
“Thanks, Bastion,” I said. “For everything.”
He smiled, a small one that I was almost sure he didn’t want Thea seeing, then stalked straight out the door. Thea shook her head and shrugged.
“He’s a good boy, but really preoccupied with putting up a tough front. I’m glad to see that he’s finally getting used to you. Or the other way around.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean. Never thought I’d say this, but he’s actually okay.”
“And it looks like you’re getting used to more than just your colleagues here at the Lorica, Dustin.” Thea smoothed the back of her skirt under her thighs as she took Bastion’s chair. “I heard you cast your first circle.”
I lit up. “I did. Prudence told you?”
Thea nodded, her eyes bright, smile as proud as a soccer mom. “The smiley face was a nice touch. I heard the entity gave you something else as well.”
That was right. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t bother checking earlier. I reached for my forehead, certain that a hole had been bored straight to the center of my brain, but there was nothing there. The skin was smooth, unburned, unbroken. I craned my neck, trying to get a glimpse of my face in my drinking glass, when Thea spoke up.
“You’re fine. Nothing there. I know it feels like something’s wrong, but truthfully it looks like you did something right. That’s the second entity you’ve met who’s granted you a favor.”
My eyes went wide. “Really? That thing where Hecate fried my brain from the outside. That was a favor?”
Thea held up her hands and shrugged. “Gods work in mysterious ways.” She chuckled, clearly pleased with herself.
“Very funny.” I rubbed at my forehead again. “Whatever she did, it hurt like hell. But I’m not sure what I got out of it.”<
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“You never can be. All you know is that an entity has favored you. Maybe she’s granted you some hidden knowledge. Or you might be able to call on her in a time of need.” She rubbed at her chin. “The question is whether she’ll answer. She’s a fickle one, that Hecate.”
“So I’ve been told. Kind of crazy, too.”
“Right. Which is why she didn’t even give us any information on the murders.”
“Maybe she did? She said to – ” I mouthed the words before I spoke them, then realized how irrelevant they were to anything we were working on. “To embrace the shadows. To understand the darkness.”
“Yeah. Still nothing. Maybe it’ll make sense later. But listen, Dust.” She clasped her hands together, leaning forward. “You’ve been with us such a short time, but you’ve already done so much. I really am proud of you.”
That caught me off guard. I gawped for a second before she spoke again.
“Sometimes I wonder, you know, how my life would be if things had gone differently with my kids. I wonder if they would have grown up magical. I wonder if they would have done as well as you.”
Something twinged in my chest. Thea never spoke about her children. I told her what I felt. “Knowing who their mom is, I’m sure they would have done even better.”
Thea smiled, and something seemed to twinkle in her eye. But then she rose from her seat, her eyebrows furrowing as her gaze went to my shoulder. Before I could say anything, she struck me, swatting at my arm with her open hand.
“Ow.” I looked up at her, bewildered. “Wow. You’re really bad at taking compliments.”
“Hmm?” she said absently, looking into her palm. “Oh, no. It’s nothing. Just a spider. Lorica’s an old building, you know how it is.” She brushed her hands off, letting the squashed arachnid fall to the ground. Thea smiled. “Someone will pick that up.”
“Yeah, okay.” I rubbed my shoulder. “Thanks.”
“For now I need you to rest up. Get better. Looks like we’ll have to set our sights elsewhere. Maybe we’ll send you to commune with another entity.”