“The consequences? Dying. That’s the consequence. Being killed for what I am. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t ask for any of this. They did this to me – Thea, Chernobog, Donovan, they all did.”
“And the Eldest,” Vanitas shouted. His blade slammed against my shield, the impact vibrating through my bones. “You’re calling them back. They can see you again, Dustin. Remember the whole point of concealing the Dark Room – of sacrificing your mother’s memory.”
I stumbled, the shield vanishing from my palms, melting back into my blood. Vanitas yielded, hovering just far enough away, I knew, to speed right back into attacking if I made the wrong move.
“Her memory,” I said. My hand went to my throat, my fingers brushing across the garnet that dangled there. “Mom?”
Something – happened just then. I wasn’t quite sure what. My mother’s amulet began glowing, its red haze suffusing my skin, my body. I felt the grip of the Dark Room loosening, uncurling its tendrils from my mind. The team from the Lorica, Jonah included, erupted in shouts of warning, pointing at me. I looked at my hands again. What had I done?
“Pull yourself back together,” Vanitas said. “There’s work to do.” Satisfied with my docility, he whirled through the air.
“Thank you,” I thought to him. “For knocking me out of the madness. That’s never happened before.”
“And we’ve never been up again this kind of madness before, either,” he shouted. “Look alive. We’ve got company.”
Vanitas flew directly towards, then past the Scion and his cohorts. Heads spun to follow, and my heart sank when I found another group of people at the end of Vanitas’s trajectory. Had they just teleported there? They were wearing the same cloaks from the night at the Ramsey House, too. It was the Society of Robes, and this time, they weren’t content to send thugs. These men and women came magically armed, firing wands at everyone in reach: the Scion’s group, Bastion and the Boneyard, Herald.
Herald?
I wanted to go to him. I wanted to join the others, because who was I without them? What’s a lion without its pride? I walked a step, then immediately crumpled, crying out as the numbed pain of my knife wound came rushing to me all at once.
“Dust,” Herald shouted. If he could reach me, then he could heal me, make me whole, and make me worth something in this fight. What the hell was going on, anyway? First the Scion, then the Society? Were they coming for Delilah? And where was Donovan?
“I’m coming for you,” Herald yelled. But he never made it.
Wisps of bright green rose from the ground, and I was instantly glad that Herald hesitated. What first looked like rapidly growing blades of grass turned out to be plumes of emerald fire – very similar in color to the eyes of a certain demon prince.
In the fires, I found those same eyes set in a face that had been flawlessly reconstructed from its previously mangled form. Clad in its signature ruby regalia, Mammon waved at me, laughing as it bathed in the fires of its own hell.
“Kill me then,” I thought. This was Mammon’s chance, but the demon prince only watched me, cackling, gloating. I finally heard its voice, soft and high-pitched between the sounds of battle.
“Bleed, Dustin Graves,” Mammon said. “Keep your precious playthings if you want – dog, sword, nephilim, it matters not to the courts of hell. Bleed and die now, for you will regret living long enough to see Mammon once more.”
The flames burned hotter, and rose higher. I blinked, and the prince of greed was gone.
Chapter 33
Like a moat between me and my friends, the viridian flames rose higher and higher, until they had become curling spires that I could only just see through. The air wavered from the intense heat. I crawled away as best as I could, as the hellfire licked closer and closer to my feet, growing as high as a wall.
But it was a wall in name only. Between the dancing flames I could still see snatches of the fight, of the Boneyard battling both the Lorica and the Society. My heart lurched when the Scion turned his sights towards me, our gazes locking through the fires. He barked something that looked like an order. His Hands gathered around him, then gestured. They were preparing spells.
Bolts of arcane energy lanced across the lawn: spheres of fire, arcs of lightning, shards of ice, all headed in my direction. Mom’s amulet had protected me from the Dark, but would it protect me from the Lorica? I panicked, glancing at the ground, searching desperately for a shadow to sink into, when I realized that I couldn’t. I stood frozen, wondering when I’d forgotten to shadowstep. The bolts came closer –
Then exploded as a radiant burst of golden light erupted from the ground just in front of me. I thought that one of my friends had put up a barrier, but the protection had come from someone I hadn’t expected to react so suddenly, and so quickly.
My mouth dropped open. “Mason?”
He stood in front of me, grunting as he dug his heels into the grass, the massive, shining shield grasped in his hands planted deep in the earth. His clothes were singed, wisps of green fire only just fading from one of his shirt sleeves.
The back of his neck gleamed with sweat as he held the shield in place, warding off more and more of the Lorica’s attacks, his body shuddering each time a magic missile struck his defenses. Then the others – my friends, my family, the Boneyard – whirled into action, retaliating against the Scion and his men in my favor. My heart clenched with guilt, then gratitude. How could I have ever doubted them?
Mason’s shield flickered, then faded, and he fell to the ground, clutching his chest. I rushed to him, kneeling at his side.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Sure I did,” Mason said, forcing a chuckle, his face dripping with sweat. “Someone had to do something. But I didn’t realize just how powerful those fuckers are. I think I just discovered my limits.”
“You fended off a dozen mages singlehandedly,” I said. “Some of those wands, too. And you punched through a demon prince’s hellfire. Holy shit, Mason. You saved us. You saved me.”