Dark Light of Day (6 page)

I nodded and Ivy smiled.

She turned away and walked over to the exit with Fitz. I stepped up to the student affairs desk wondering what other info Lozenge and I had to exchange. I still wanted a warm shower and dry boots but I would gladly have traded those for some new friends. Lozenge and I wrapped pretty quickly—my bill was paid, my room assigned, and my status no longer in question. I was free to go. I squished over to the door.

Fitz and Ivy were still standing there.

“We’re headed to Marduk’s for lunch. Want to come?”

M
arduk’s was as warm and cozy as you’d expect an underground pub in Halja to be. The windows were at street level so the light wasn’t natural. Little spots of yellow glow hung suspended over each heavily scarred wooden table. Bench backs were high, tablecloths were nonexistent, and the walls were exposed brick. But for all its age and roughness, Marduk’s felt like an old pair of canvas trousers, comfortable and well-worn. We chose a table near the back, by a huge fieldstone fireplace that was blazing with heat and orange light.

I ordered a large bowl of potato soup and a small meat pie with mushroom sauce and both Fitz and Ivy ordered some sort of salad and a blueberry crisp. I had to be careful around salads and fresh fruit. It wasn’t that someone with waning magic couldn’t eat fresh produce, but you wouldn’t want to hold it in your hand for too long before eating it either. Cautious as I was, well cooked, heavily smothered in sauce food was a habit I’d had since I’d cut my first tooth. When the food came we hungrily tucked in until there was nothing left but
the crust of my meat pie and a few radishes on Ivy’s salad plate. I pulled out the unoccupied fourth chair and put my feet up—it seemed like the kind of place where that was more than okay—and undid my laces, hoping my boots would dry better closer to the fire. Neither Ivy nor Fitz seemed inclined to leave, and the place wasn’t crowded so we ordered some coffee.

Ivy was short for Ivana Jaynes and she was here to study riparian rights and the law of navigable waters. Her family owned and operated a whole fleet of ferries, the flagship of which was the
Alliance
, a sturdy double-decked vessel that took mechanized cabs, as well as passengers, to the outposts up and down the length of the Lethe. She was well educated and well traveled. Fitz’s education and experience, on the other hand, seemed a bit more piecemeal. He had grown up on the Seknecai estate, one of the very few Host estates here in New Babylon. His mother—Ivy’s aunt—was the housekeeper for Waldron Seknecus, the dean of demon affairs here at St. Lucifer’s. I gathered from the looks exchanged between them that Seknecus might have pulled some strings to get Fitz accepted here.

Both Fitz and Ivy were unbelievable gossips. They had the goods on everyone. But nothing they said was malicious, and they seemed genuinely interested in me, as I was them. I made sure to keep my answers vague though, although I soon found myself wishing I could confide in them. They were as warm and comfortable feeling as the place they’d invited me to for lunch.

I had just finished lacing up my boots when I started to feel the prickly, skittering feeling along my arms and back like this morning. This time Peter’s spell doused my magic faster but left my half-digested meat pie feeling like a mound of red-hot lava rocks searing through my stomach.
I have to get out of here,
I thought. I stood up to go and that’s when I saw him—Ari, the Hyrke who’d saved me from drowning in the Lethe not two short hours ago.

What was he doing here?

He looked better than I remembered. Here in the underground warmth of Marduk’s, his strong features looked even more ruggedly handsome. In this small space, the bulk of his body appeared twice as big. On his arm was a tall, statuesque woman with hair the color of Ivy’s. But that’s where the similarities ended. This woman was a showstopper, a real knockout, with pouty red lips, porcelain skin, and sky blue eyes. But just above her sternum were two nasty red burns—two wounds the size of thumbprints pressed into the slender hollow of her throat. Immediately behind her was another woman, a pretty brunette with ash-colored eyes and a dimple in her chin.

“Ah,” said Ivy quietly, following my gaze, “That’s Ari Carmine.”

“I know,” I said, slumping back down in my seat. Her eyebrows shot up.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh. We shared a ferry ride across the Lethe this morning.”

“He always dates the beauties—powerful Mederies from the Gaia Tribe,” Fitz said, looking over with a frank look of half-admiration, half-envy.

Ari and his companions slid into a booth along the wall near the front. Ari reached for the redheaded beauty’s hand in a gesture that was all too familiar. The sick bubbling feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away.

How had she gotten those burn marks? And what was Ari doing at Marduk’s? Was he a student at St. Lucifer’s too?

If so, it was surprising that it hadn’t come up during our discussion this morning, but then I’d steered purposefully clear of any talk about where we were headed after the crossing. More surprising—and infinitely more disappointing—was my reaction to seeing him with the beautiful Mederi. It irritated me. It irritated me even more that it irritated me at all. I sat in the half darkness at the back of Marduk’s stewing. I grudgingly realized that Ari was even more confident than I’d given him credit for. Handsome, charismatic Hyrkes dated Mederies, sure, but not many from the Gaia Tribe.

“The redhead was attacked by a
rogare
demon two days ago,” Ivy said.

Surprise turned to outright shock. “Here?
In New Babylon?
”

Ivy nodded. Fitz grimaced.

In Halja, demons came in all manner of sizes, shapes, ages, classes, and types, but there were really only two kinds. The
regulare
demons, who loved rules and the adoration of their followers more than they loved anarchy and chaos, and
rogare
demons, who didn’t.

“Did they catch the demon who did it?” I whispered, my throat suddenly dry at the thought of what it would be like to have a demon grab me by the neck.

“No,” Ivy said. “Not yet. But the Council’s been alerted. I heard that some of the upper year Maegesters-in-Training here might help track it down.”

I said nothing. All of my focus was on trying to keep my breathing steady and my hands from shaking. Knowing Halja was full of demons was one thing. Seeing one’s brutal handiwork was quite another.

“What was he like, during the crossing?” Ivy asked.

“Who, Ari?”

“No, the captain,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes and grinning. “Of course, Ari.”

“He was nice,” I said, finally tearing my gaze from Beauty’s burn marks.

“Nice,” Ivy repeated flatly.

Fitz barked out a laugh. “You just called one of your dad’s demon executioners
nice
.” He laughed again.

My blood turned to ice. “Demon executioner?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Ivy said, frowning. “That’s how he pays for his education. He executes
rogare
demons. Last fall he declared and chose to train at St. Lucifer’s to become a Maegester. Lucky us.” She spoke the last two words completely without sarcasm. And from the way she was looking at him, she meant it.

“So he’s Host, not Hyrke,” I said, confused. “But I’ve never heard of him. Where did he come from? Was he spawned
from Lucifer himself? Members of the Host don’t just pop up out of nowhere. They grow up in Etincelle.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as my new friends processed my mildly profane outburst. Then Ivy said, “Well, he didn’t.”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “He said he grew up in Bradbury.” There had to be a mistake. They had to be talking about someone else, although the remaining sinking feeling in my stomach told me otherwise. I risked another peek toward the front and wished I hadn’t. My gaze suddenly locked with Ari’s and he stilled. My cheeks flushed and I looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

“He said he had a younger brother,” I mumbled, turning back toward Ivy and Fitz. “Who’s considering going to Gaillard.”

“Right,” said Fitz. “I heard that too. Or at least about the younger brother. He was raised by an adoptive Hyrke family somewhere in the southwest. So Bradbury fits.”

Ivy kicked my chair. “He’s coming over,” she hissed.

Every emotion I’d had—petty jealousy over the beautiful Mederi, incredulity over Ari’s surprising background, irritation over my own attraction—suddenly turned to liquid fear. If Ari was training to become a Maegester, I could have nothing to do with him. Those with waning magic could sense it in others. Peter’s temperamental cloaking spell now made perfect sense. But bolting now, while Ari was on his way to the table, would only call more attention to me. So I sat, forcing a bland smile, hoping he didn’t already suspect.

“Hi, Noon,” Ari said, smiling down at me. “I had a feeling we’d see each other again.”

I shrugged. “You didn’t mention you were a student here.”

“Neither did you,” he said pointedly, his smile disappearing. “Did you get your room assignment yet?”

“Megiddo,” I said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. He’d be over at Infernus on the floor reserved for the rest of the Maegesters-in-Training. At least I wouldn’t be seeing
him walking to the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. “This is my roommate, Ivy, and her cousin, Fitz,” I said, motioning to them, wanting his attention directed anywhere but toward me. He turned toward Ivy first and extended his hand.

“You’re Ivy Jaynes, right?” Ari said as they shook hands.

“Yes,” Ivy said, clearly surprised that he might know who she was.

“Your family’s
Alliance
has given me safe passage along the Lethe many times,” he said warmly, grasping her hand with two of his. His touch and the tone of his voice had its effect and Ivy smiled back openly at him.

“And Fitz?” Ari said, offering his hand to the right. “Is that short for something?”

“Fitzgerald,” Fitz said slowly, pumping Ari’s hand. Fitz had the look of an alpha dog under attack. He wasn’t growling but his ruff was up and his tail was wagging a whole lot less furiously than before. “We were just leaving,” he said, standing up.

Ivy looked like she wanted to stay but I leapt up as if on springs. Ari was quicker than me though and grabbed my cloak off the back of my chair before I could. He opened it for me to step into. I paused, not wanting to meet his eye, and then turned so that he could drape the heavy cloak over me. He did, softly laying it across my shoulders and running his hands down my arms as he did so. I shivered and repressed a longing to fall back into his arms.
Was I crazy?
He was a demon executioner who’d come here to train as a Maegester. He had waning magic. Apparently, a lot of it. But even worse, so did I.

Even if I could get used to the fact that he’d killed demons to pay for his tuition, he’d never get used to the fact that my magic was as deadly as his.

I broke free, mumbled good-byes to all, and launched myself toward the door. On the way I had to pass Ari’s table where Beauty and her pretty friend waited for his return. I stared. Beauty stared. Mederies were not usually vengeful creatures but she didn’t look happy. Somehow I didn’t think
it was the burn marks. More’s the pity for both of us. She only reminded me of everything I wasn’t. Everything I could have been. If I’d been born as I should have. I stomped out in the direction of Megiddo. Time to dig my trenches deeper and settle in.

E
very waning magic user had a demon mark. I was no exception. The marks were usually dark spots of pigmentation just above the left breast—right above the heart. Mine was light but it was there. When I was nine, I’d tried to cut it off. It had been a disastrous, bloody mess. But the mark had grown back, a shade darker, with no scarring. It was the waning magic in me, I knew, and I hadn’t tried to remove it since. What I did do, however, was cover it up. Even in the summer. My entire wardrobe was primarily designed for one purpose—to cover my demon mark. In the winter it was easy. I wore a lot of high-necked sweaters. In the summer, I wore a lot of high-necked, sleeveless shirts. On the rare occasions when I had to dress up, my frocks were startlingly conservative. Or they bared skin somewhere other than my décolletage. Even that morning, heading to student orientation, I was wearing one of the twenty turtleneck sweaters my mother had shipped ahead for me.

My clothes were always serviceable, as Mrs. Aster would put it, and today it was more of the same. My sweater was a
sharp, almost shiny gray and my canvas pants were very dark and very new, not at all faded or fraying. It was freezing so I had on a black hooded snow vest lined with ermine and a different pair of snow boots. The ones from yesterday hadn’t dried out completely yet. And they reminded me painfully of Ari, who I had sworn to put out of my mind. Funny how people you’d waved off as irrelevant before suddenly became irresistible.

The sidewalks were covered with a thin coat of brittle ice. Ivy and I crunched along, our breath coming out of our mouths in puffs of white as we discussed the start of the semester. Fitz had been assigned to a room in Abaddon and he was saving seats for us in Lekai Auditorium where the new student orientation would take place. I raised my hood against the wind and shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. A light snow fell. Every now and then a flake would touch my face and melt, a tiny pinprick of ice exploding on the warm surface of my skin.