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“So a free lance. Like a mercenary. Someone who sold his sword to the highest bidder.”
“Yes,” Herald said, his eyes lighting up, like he hadn’t expected me to know what a freelancer was. I tried not to show how pleased I was at his reaction. Like I said, I read a lot. Also I may or may not have picked up that information from a video game, but hush. “Perhaps the sword retained some of its previous owners’ personalities, or even their abilities. I’ll have to look into it.”
“Keep me posted,” I said, which elicited another cocked eyebrow. Herald, it seemed, was taking an interest in how I was taking an interest in his work. It struck me then that few people probably did.
“I will,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving into the tiniest smile. But the dimple in his cheek disappeared. His eyebrows crooked, and his face darkened. “What you did out there was enormously stupid, though.”
“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.”
