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“Not quite,” I said. “Possibly worse. I think it’s best if you go into the house and wait there.”
He frowned. “Okay, Dust, I appreciate what you and your buddy here have done to help me, but I swear I can take care of myself. Your father isn’t as defenseless as you think he is and – ”
“Dad. Please.” I leaned in, my eyes watching as Hecate slowly approached. “It’s a goddess. And it’s not one of the nicer ones.”
His eyes widened. “Did you say – that’s a goddess? They exist?”
I pressed my lips into a tight line. “There’s a hell of a lot we need to catch up on. But for now, please get into the house.”
“Take care of yourself,” he sputtered, shortly before bolting through the front door. I’d never seen him move so fast.
“Goodness gracious,” Hecate said, holding a hand to her chest, as if in mock offense. “We did not come to harm your parent, fleshling. There was no need to dismiss him so. We have come with other interests in mind.”
“Well and good, Hecate,” I said. “But he’s only just learning about the arcane and the entities. I think he’s seen quite enough for one night.”
She tilted her head and smiled. “How sweet of you to be so concerned for your father’s sanity. The human mind truly is such a fragile thing.” She turned her head slowly. “But we see that another fleshling is content to remain within our presence.”
“Herald Igarashi,” Herald said, bowing his head again. I’d never seen him like this, cowed, perhaps, and so restrained, because I could tell he was getting a little excited. “I’m a huge fan of your work,” he added.
Hecate laughed. “We certainly do our best. But first, there is much to discuss.” Hecate craned her neck towards dad’s house. “We smell the taint of the Old Ones in this home. It was the stockpile of their implements that drew us here. Are we correct in assuming that there is a chest full of enchanted star-metal somewhere in this delicate and extremely flammable shelter?”
“Did you mean the verdigris? Star-metal? Is that what it’s called?”
I took her silence to mean “Yes.”
“Then okay, you’re correct,” I said. “And I really wish that you didn’t dwell so much on how flammable the place is. I’m already worried enough as it is.”
Hecate waved her hand and laughed. “Surely the darkling mage is not so afraid for his father’s life that a mere joke is enough to unsettle him? Surely one who has defeated something as powerful and maniacal as the white witch possesses more spine and grit than that.”
The white witch. She was talking about Thea. I said nothing, and just as well, because when Hecate spoke again, it was as if she had read my mind. She had a weird habit of doing that.
“And if our memory serves, this same white witch destroyed a possession of yours. Not a possession, truly, but an ally. A friend.” She placed her hand on my cheek, her skin smooth and warm against the chill of the night. “Such a pity to have lost a friend. But we have come to tell you that there is hope. The box of broken treasures your mother left behind may yet be your salvation, fleshling.”
Herald’s eyes lit up. “It’s salvage, isn’t it? All that verdigris, that broken bronze, it can be used to help reforge Vanitas.”
And that’s when my eyes lit up. “Is that true?”
Hecate nodded and withdrew her hand. She moved back, then reappeared several paces away, shadowstepping the way she did when we first met. It always felt as if she’d done so to display some sense of kinship with me and my talent, and now she had come with a way to bring Vanitas back. If Hecate was planning to exact some kind of price, I was afraid to find out what it was, how expensive and debilitating.
She turned her hands up, and out of the darkness glimmered a strange assortment of shapes, like the disparate, unraveled pieces of some grand pattern. “The sword’s destruction has diminished its enchantment, and much of its magic was consumed when it was shattered. But now that you’ve found additional material, there are new possibilities.”
She gestured with her hands, and the pale green pinpricks of light rearranged themselves into the outline of a sword. It hovered in the air before me, in very much the same size and shape as Vanitas. An awed sort of sound came from the house. I looked and found my dad standing just behind the front door, peeking through a crack. Hah. Typical. But at least I knew he was safe.
“The only question is, who can we approach to help?” Herald rubbed his chin. “We’d be hard-pressed to find an enchanter talented enough to stitch the sword’s magic back together.”
“And nor would we ask you to find a morta
l to do it,” Hecate said. “The qualities of the star-metal that the Old Ones favor for their instruments are detrimental to you fleshlings.” She pointed at me. “This one is only unharmed because of the corruption the white witch buried in his heart.”
“Wait. Detrimental? Are you saying that just having the verdigris around can be harmful to humans? Like radiation?”
Hecate only looked at me and said nothing. She turned her head towards Herald again before she spoke. “We believe you may need to find an entity powerful enough to undertake this task.”
“A god of blacksmiths, perhaps. Hephaestus, maybe?” Herald folded his arms. “Or Kagutsuchi, the Japanese god of fire and forge.”
“Clever suggestions,” Hecate said, “but we believe that the forge-gods would sooner smite you than entertain the thought of working with the star-metal that carries the taint of the Old Ones. No. This work requires a different sort of entity.” She folded her hands together, then lowered her head as she studied Herald with a burning intensity. “Tell us, fleshling. How many of the world’s grimoires have you read?”
“As many as I’ve been able to put my hands on.” Herald’s face practically glowed with excitement. “Any of the books that have passed through the Lorica. I’ve seen De Vermis Mysteriis, the Lesser Key of Solomon.” He sighed. “One day I’m hoping to get my hands on a copy of the Enchiridion.”
