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I’d dreaded potential shenanigans involving poison, but the Lorica half of our dining party would never have resorted to something so low, and the other half tended to prefer ripping things apart and getting as bloody as possible. As dinner progressed, though, it was becoming increasingly clear that those lines were very blurry as far as Prudence and Gil were concerned.
Carver had announced at the beginning of the evening that he was paying for everything. So far our dinner guests were being very reasonably polite about ordering, but it still made me question where his ridiculous buying power and accompanying lack of understanding of modern finances were coming from.
Maybe it was time to ask for a raise. It certainly seemed like Carver could afford to give me one, plus in the course of being employed by him I’d already been stabbed, shot, poisoned, and set on fire. And that was just the last three days. I needed compensation, rest, and maybe health insurance. I took another swig of my beer and grimaced. This night was supposed to be about letting my hair down and having fun, not coming to terms with the harsh realities of adulting.
I turned my attention back to dinner, poking at the overly large heap of fries still lingering on my plate. It was interesting to see how everyone had paired off for the night. Prudence and Gil required little explanation. Carver and Bastion, arguably the two most destructive of the forces seated at our table, seemed to have gravitated and warmed to each other out of some unspoken mutual respect.
Asher looked content to cram his face full of anything that our waiter brought – poor kid probably hadn’t had a nice meal out for ages – up until the point that Romira started playing her little games with him, which sent him blushing as red as the demolished half-shells of crab on his plate. Sterling kept slinking away from the table, either to look for his own nourishment or, far likelier, to smoke another dozen cigarettes back to back.
I was content to sit across from Herald, who, out of everyone, needed the most coaxing to come out and join us. He probably didn’t fancy the idea of mingling so readily with the bloodthirsty predators I counted as my coworkers, but the far likelier reality was that he was still feeling awkward about throwing me under the bus. And I made sure not to let him forget it, at least for the entire first half-hour of dinner.
He nodded at my fries. “You gonna finish those?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Go ahead. You can take them.” He leaned over eagerly, spearing my fries with his fork. “The way you took liberties about my status with the Lorica and made me out to be a wanted criminal.”
Herald stuffed his mouth full of potatoes and rolled his eyes. “Are you still mad about that? Geez. I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“That’s hardly enough.” I restrained a smirk. I was laying it on thick, but hey, he kind of deserved it.
“Oh my god, fine. Brunch on me next time we go. Better?”
I sucked on my lip and frowned.
“Seriously? Two brunches. Fuck. Fine.”
“Deal.” I nearly grinned, but the reason I was even giving Herald a hard time resurfaced in my mind, diminishing the small joy of being promised a free meal. I stared at the knife in my hand. It was weird to be reminded of Vanitas at a time like this, but retrieving him for the Lorica was how Herald and I even became friends in the first place. “Not that there’s anything for me to be mad about anymore, honestly. Vanitas is gone. I guess the Lorica won’t have reason to come after me now.”
Herald chewed thoughtfully, then set his fork down to take a sip of his mojito. “Really shitty for that to have happened. Considering the sword’s age and power, you’d think it would have taken more to destroy it.”
Given Herald’s work and his affinity for artifacts, I thought it best not to mention how many had been consumed and summarily smashed in our crushing of the Viridian Dawn. “You know, it’s far more likely that we underestimated Thea. She was stronger than she was before, and if she survived, I’m worried she’s going to be even worse.”
Carver’s eyes flitted towards me at the mention of Thea’s name, but he said nothing. Herald shook his head.
“This is depressing. I really don’t want to talk about her. I want to believe I’m better off pretending she’s dead, but we all know she’ll be back. Like a cockroach.” He grimaced. “Or a herpes sore.”
I raised an eyebrow, both at the trivialization of probably the most powerful non-entity we’d encountered so far, as well as the off-kilter reference.
“Herpes, huh?”
Herald blushed crimson. “Or so I’ve heard. Shut up. Listen. My point is, maybe something can still be done about Vanitas’s condition.”
My back straightened, my ears feeling as if they’d swiveled forward, and I gaped openly at him, disbelieving. “I’m sorry. Did I just hear you correctly?”
Herald leaned in. “You find the right enchanter – maybe even the right entity – to do a favor for you, and there’s a chance the sword can be reforged. Don’t let this get your hopes up, but that means that its magical enhancements, even its personality might yet be restored.”
“That would be incredible. Holy shit, Herald, that would be amazing.”
He frowned again. “Tone it down. Like I said, don’t keep your hopes us. But we can talk it out some more, probably a time and a place when I’m not trying to replace my blood with alcohol.” He took another sip of his mojito, then grimaced. “How is this already not cold enough? Ugh.”
He tapped his fingers on the tablecloth, but I knew what was happening before the violet filaments of light had even emerged from his hand. If anyone at our table noticed Herald was casting a spell, no one disapproved. Hell, Carver might have even been proud. He touched his glass again, and the sides of it immediately fogged with condensation as the liquid cooled. He took a swig, smacked his lips, then nodded approvingly.
“Much better.”
I watched him glug down his drink with envy. Yet again the question of casting my first proper spell gnawed at me. Slowly learning to hone and sharpen the darkness was a good thing, sure, but I wasn’t so certain I was prepared to give a blood tithe every time I had to defend myself – or hurt something. An eye for an eye? Call me a brat, but it hardly seemed right.
“So unfair. I still can’t do that shit.”
Herald sighed, stirring his drink with his finger, his very touch chilling the mojito. I hadn’t realized magic could be so damn practical before I was exposed to his little tricks.
