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“Hey,” I grumbled. “Fucking get in line.”
“I’m half-dead,” Sterling said.
“And I’m actually dating Herald, so scoot.”
Sterling glared at me, the two of us splayed out next to each other on Herald’s couch. We’d dragged our battered corpses over to Parkway Heights, at least once Sterling had grown part of his chest back, and once I’d cleared enough of the weird powder out of my system.
It involved a lot of crying, a little vomiting, and some dunking of my entire head in the same pond I’d scared the ducks away from. Actually, one of them came back, and it was hella pissed. The entire night had been a giant clusterfuck, is what I’m trying to say.
Sterling growled under his breath as he stared me down, not unlike the way Banjo would. Just by the front door of Herald’s apartment, where he’d kindly set down a bowl of water, Banjo looked over his shoulder at me and growled, too.
“Don’t you do all that now,” I said. “You’re better than that, Sterling. I’ve got burns and my pipes are all gummed up from that bastard’s magical pepper spray shit.”
“I’ll decide who gets treated first,” Herald said, handing each of us a glass of cool water. I downed mine immediately, relishing the crispness washing down my throat. “I’m the medical professional here, after all. Well, the closest thing to it.”
“I love you,” I said, tilting my head and batting my eyelashes. “Me first,” I added softly.
I doubled over as Sterling elbowed me in the stomach. “No,” he said. “I love you more.”
“The two of you shut up,” Herald said, frowning. “And it wasn’t pepper. That was devil dust.’
I cocked an eyebrow, rubbing at my stomach. “Sorry. Devil dust?”
He nodded. “It’s a special blend of really irritating plant material, infused with the most annoying properties of the most annoying class of demons. Imps. All held together with a little bit of magic, naturally.”
Sterling narrowed his eyes at Herald, rubbing at the spot in his chest that had almost, but not quite completely closed up, looking like a puckered puncture wound, or a butthole. Gross.
“And how do you know all this, exactly?” Sterling asked.
Herald nudged his glasses up his face, barely able to contain the smugness of his smile. “Why, because I invented it, of course.”
I pressed my thumbs against my eyelids, fighting the headache that was building just behind my eyeballs. “Why, pray tell,” I said, “would you invent this hell powder? For what purpose?”
“Better question,” Sterling said, sipping from his water, his nose making a displeased wrinkle. “Why did the invisible asshole have enough of it to throw in Dust’s face?”
Herald tutted, pressing his hands into his hips. “Isn’t it obvious? Whoever attacked you is a Lorica employee. Dust, you were a Hound once. You had supplies to help with infiltrations, remember? The devil dust is one of my newer creations.”
It was one of Herald’s many, many roles at the Lorica, after all. He was a sorcerer, sure, specialized in ice magic, but he also sorted artifacts for the Lorica’s expansive Gallery while still managing to come up with an impressive array of alchemical compositions. Sleeping powder, stuff you can put on the soles of your shoes to make it easier to sneak around – and now, apparently, this horrible substance.
“Wait,” I said. “That explains the phial he smashed. The one with the sunbeam in it.”
“Aha.” Sterling snapped his fingers triumphantly. “Of course. Carver told me about that time you tried to kill him. Lightning in a bottle, wasn’t it?”
Herald nodded. “We’ve developed different variants of the crystal phials. That one stored sunlight, obviously. Which meant that whoever attacked you knew exactly what to expect. They came prepared.”
“To murder me!” Sterling shouted. “That sunbeam almost got me right in the heart.”
For once, that wasn’t an exaggeration. I patted the back of Sterling’s hand. He made a small whining sound from the back of his throat. Ugh, I knew what was coming. Give the vampire an inch –
“If only someone kind and generous with an excellent circulation system would offer their magical blood to expedite my healing I would – ”
“No,” I said coldly. “And there are far sexier, more convincing ways to phrase that. Seriously.”
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll pay you.”
“You’re the worst.”
Herald gave Sterling a once-over, and it didn’t take more than a brief application of his healing magic to fully close the wound in his chest. My treatment was a little more thorough, though, involving an inspection of basically every orifice in my head.
