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“Just me,” I said. “Go on back to sleep. Everything’s fine.”
He scratched his belly. “Sterling says we’re gonna go meet a bunch of vampires soon.”
That’s right. The meeting with Diaz and his cohorts. See, that was an even more compelling reason to get the business of reforging Vanitas over and done with. A sword, at the end of the day, is just a really sharp and pointy stake. And the only thing better than a stake is a rocket-powered homing stake that can stab and destroy things on its own.
“We’ll meet them soon. Real soon.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Go back to bed. And Asher? You didn’t see me.”
He gave me a limp smile and two thumbs up, waddled into his bedroom, then shut the door, which was when I realized something. He said “we” when he mentioned the meeting with Diaz, didn’t he? So Asher was coming along? Surely Carver knew.
I raced out of my own bedroom. There was no sign of Carver just yet, which was only making me increasingly antsy. I pulled tighter on my knapsack’s straps and made a beeline for the portal.
Where Carver was waiting.
“Dustin,” he said, his voice calm, cool, and suspiciously neutral.
“Hi. Hey. Sup.” I smoothed a hand through my hair, meaning to play things casual. Nothing to see here, just another totally normal night of me running through the halls with a magical backpack strapped to my shoulders.
“I am not entirely sure what you’re up to, but I trust that you’ve got your head on right.”
“I, um, sure.” Don’t look to the left, I told myself. Or – or was it the right? I’d read somewhere that it was how human lie detectors could tell that you were fibbing. I stared straight into Carver’s eyes, in total denial of the fact that he didn’t need to learn how to read body language and facial tics to figure that out. He was a walking radar and surveillance array. I don’t think I’ve ever successfully snuck anything past him in the months we’d known each other. At least not for long.
He rubbed his chin, shook his head, and sighed. “Whatever it is you have planned – please don’t let it end in disaster. But you’re a grown man, and I cannot say that I’m disappointed in your magical progress, between your new taste for fire, and your finer control over your shadow blades.”
I wasn’t expecting compliments. I never expected compliments from Carver. I kept my voice steady. “Right,” I said.
“Just come home in one piece. And about reforging the sword. We may have to look beyond gods for now. I’ll inform you if I find a suitable candidate.”
“Actually,” I said, my mouth oddly dry. “I might just go in the other direction for help. Hecate told me to consider speaking to a – um, a demon.”
Carver studied me for a strained, quiet moment. He took so long to speak that I had to wonder if he thought it was a terrible idea. I considered sprinting for the portal bef
ore he tried restraining me, but he angled his head to the side, then spoke.
“I cannot believe I am saying this but – that might just work. I confess, it’s an angle that I hadn’t considered. Though I trust you’ll be mindful to take extreme care with the negotiations.” His eyes narrowed as he walked past me, back into the hallway leading to his office. “Gods may be fickle and obtuse, but demons are far, far worse. Try not to agree to terms that will destroy the world as we know it. There is still so much I want to do.”
“Right,” I said to his back. “Check. No apocalypses.”
Carver stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn. “Oh, and Dustin? Send your father my regards.”
I froze. Ah. I knew that he’d sniffed something out. Still, I couldn’t help but smile. “I will, Carver. And thanks.”
I ran back through the portal, then leapt into the shadow of the refrigerator in the kitchen, even more amped up about the communion Herald and I were about to perform. This was a different kind of Carver. I didn’t know if he was treating me differently because he’d shown me so much more of himself, if this was a gesture of trust on his part.
My chest might have puffed up a little as I hurried through the Dark Room. For once, Carver felt comfortable enough to let me wear the big boy pants. The best I could hope for was to not royally fuck this all up.
Lowering my head, I ran straight for the heart of the light at the end of the Dark Room’s tunnel, bolting like a bullet through the darkness. The plan was to exit right where I’d first entered.
And bam. The ethers parted, and I landed butt-first in the passenger seat, next to a slightly upset and mildly pallid Herald.
“Jesus H. Christ, Dustin! What the hell, man. Don’t do that.”
I folded my hands behind my head and grinned. “Do what?”
“You’re a little shithead,” he grumbled, gripping the steering wheel tight. “Did you get the goods?”
“Right here.”
I patted at my backpack, comforted by the worn but somehow buttery-soft leather of it. I missed having this thing on my back, because wearing it generally meant that I was carrying Vanitas around inside. After tonight, if all went well, things might go back to the way they were. It almost didn’t bother me knowing that we still had to suck up to a full-blown, actual demon.
