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“I told you about this before, and you weren’t that pissed off.”
“Surely, in light of this new information, I’m permitted to change my mind,” Carver said icily. “The way that you so frequently and so impulsively change yours.”
I stared at the ground, chewing on my lip. Sterling snorted.
“And besides, I’ve called Sterling here for a reason.” I caught the gleam and clink of metal as Carver sent something flying over my head. Sterling caught it in both hands, and it tinkled again. It was a length of fine chain, each of its links shimmering with arcane energy. “If Gilberto returns to the Boneyard, restrain him.”
Sterling shrugged and slipped the chains into one of the pockets in his leather jacket. “I assume there’s a reason we’re clapping our friends in irons today. Kinky.”
“We’ve learned of some intelligence that will necessitate keeping Gil out of commission. I am concerned that his current relationship with Ms. Leung will cause him to act in the Lorica’s favor by attempting to hinder Dustin tonight. There’s a good chance he’s on his way here now. Knowing how he thinks, he’ll believe that Dustin ran straight to me to ask me for advice, or assistance.” Carver grunted. “And Gil wasn’t wrong.”
I groaned. “Have I said that I’m sorry yet? Sorry, dad.”
“Shut up, Graves. We will do what we can to facilitate your success in this matter. Keep Gil out of the way, for instance.” Carver folded his hands together, his eyes smoldering with dark glee. “You will break into the Prism yourself.”
“I – what? Are you kidding?” I looked at Carver, then Sterling, then back again. “Oh God. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
The chains in Sterling’s pocket jangled merrily as he walked, his boots clacking tauntingly over the stone floor. He whistled, then tutted. I clenched my fist. Some people just tease you or gloat outright, but with Sterling it was always such a fucking production.
“The Prism, eh?” Sterling whistled. “Damn. No wonder Carver’s sending you in alone. I’m no good there.”
My mouth hung open, and I looked at Carver again. “Alone? Are you serious?” I turned on the tear ducts a little, made the best damn puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. It only made Carver grimace.
“Stop that,” he grumbled. “You no doubt understand that the Lorica’s high security Prism is meant specifically for arcane unsavories. That doesn’t mean that they’re all human. Certain protections are put in place to constantly suppress its occupants, and keep them weak.”
“No windows means no moonlight, so werewolves can’t recharge their batteries,” Sterling said. “They’ve got wards in place to keep the wrong kind of supernatural out, or to keep it locked right in. And it’s in the name: the Prism has ambient sunlight streamed into every room. Keeps us vamps weak, and it really, really stings.” Sterling clapped me on the back. “But you? You’ll be fine. Just shadowstep out of danger, am I right?”
I stared at my hands. This was a suicide mission. “What about Asher? He could come with me. He’s human, and – ”
“And,” Carver said, placing clanging emphasis on the word, “he’s a necromancer. One of the rarest classes of mages in existence, and you’re suggesting we just trot him into the Lorica?” He scoffed. “Asher Mayhew is one of the brightest jewels in the Boneyard’s crown. You know that the Lorica has shown interest in him. I have no intention of affording them the opportunity to abduct him.”
“Okay, fine, good point. You could have said that in half the words you used.” I narrowed my eyes. “Wait, did you say one of the brightest jewels?”
Carver tilted his head and smiled warmly. “Come now, Dustin. Surely you aren’t jealous? It’s nothing at all to worry about. You’re easily my fourth favorite.”
I looked down at my hands, counting off on my fingers. “But that makes me – ”
“And back to what we were discussing,” Carver said, smoothly steamrolling me. “Sterling will stay here and safeguard Gil in case he makes any further attempt to assist the Lorica. I like the boy, but his relationship means that he may well be emotionally compromised.”
“I like Prudence too,” Sterling said, “but I agree.”
“Asher will remain in the Boneyard where he is safe.” Carver waved his hand, and a column of fire appeared behind him. I shielded my eyes, and when the fire receded, it left a bookcase in its place. He rose and selected one, already thumbing through its pages. “And I,” he said somewhat distractedly, “will research more about the Tome of Annihilation. Perhaps we’ll even find it hiding in my collection.”
“Perhaps,” I said, forcing a measure of cheer into my voice. “I mean if that’s all you have to scour through, then – ”
Carver waved his hand again and the entirety of the stone platform erupted in a raging inferno of pale fire. I yelped, spilling right out of my chair. Sterling looked down at me, hands stuck in his pockets, one eyebrow raised. How the hell was he being so relaxed?
I got to my feet, dusting off my clothes, just in time to catch the fires subsiding. When I looked up again, my jaw dropped clean to the floor. Carver smiled at me.
“You were saying?”
He swept his hand across the dozens upon dozens of bookcases that had magically revealed themselves on the platform.
“Hmm,” Carver said, returning his book to its shelf, then pulling down another. “Perhaps I will need Asher’s help after all.” He frowned at me. “With any luck we’ll have gone through my entire collection in, oh, say a month.”
I stared at the immense library, mouth still agog, then back at him. “Are you serious? A month?”
Carver snorted. “You’d better get ready for your infiltration, Mr. Graves. Come back in thirty minutes. I’ll have some arcane equipment prepared for you then.”
