Page 13 of The Fate of Black Hearts

For the first time in centuries, he tasted fear. Not from the demon’s threats before it returned to its underworld home. Not from whatever the mage onthe other end of this summons had to say. This fear started the moment a lycan with honey-colored eyes worried he’d get hurt.

“You have compassion, and desire runs hot in your blood, which means your heart isn’t truly black.”

“Damn it.” He swiped the few items on his kitchen table to the floor. His favorite teacup shattered, sending liquid everywhere. Gratification at its destruction dissolved into disappointment.

He thought he had a smidgeon of control over the trajectory of his life. This proved those fickle Fates got their jollies from wrecking him.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He survived day to day from one episode of insane human disaster he had to avert to another. It started two hundred years ago, after the witch prophesied about him:Your child borne of a love forgotten but never gone will be the destruction of the world you know.

The Conclave locked him away for twenty years until one of the Fates set him free. She needed him to resume the periodic work he did for them—the business of thwarting disasters. He adjusted lives here or there. He saved this person but not that one. He sent demons back to hell, exorcised possessed humans, and moved chosen people out of the way of an accident. All of it was miscellaneous bullshit, like adjusting stones on a chessboard to manipulate lives into their intended destinies. After the Fates released him, the Conclave bound him in a different way.

He tugged at the black obsidian ring they’d tricked him into wearing. As usual, it didn’t budge. The mages monitored him with this. They judgedhim. They sent threats of interning him once more in that deep well or ending his life. After almost two centuries, their threats bounced off him. Threats weren’t necessary. He’d never allow himself to become the harbinger of destruction. If the prophecy came to pass, he’d kill himself or his child or both.

He thought he’d finally found freedom tonight. How he craved relief from the empty isolation of his life with the death he longed for. Then the most exquisite creature he’d ever encountered messed it up.

Better to get this summoning over with.

He touched the levitating paper.

On instinct he held his breath, which helped with the vertigo upon arrival and kept him focused on keeping his mouth closed. The landing was never dignified, and often ended in a mouthful of whatever lay on the ground.

In a whoosh, the magic sucked him to somewhere too bright. He squinted and pushed up from a sandy shore. Grains of the white pestilence littered his dark clothes. He wiped the sand away, but he’d be finding grains of it in crevices for days.

“Over here.” Dojin flashed a smile on his smooth face. His features seemed styled in honor of an Asian emperor and his perfect beauty lulled humans into compliance. Dom had witnessed even humans who distrusted people of Eastern descent get goofy around him.

Dojin sat on a bench positioned to stare out at the quiet crystalline-blue water. They must be somewhere Caribbean or Mediterranean given the water’s transparency. Dom resented the slick Korean who was centuries younger than him. Dojin must’ve beenless than a century old when assigned to monitor him.

He sat as far away from Dojin as possible. The fact a mage so young had been chosen several years ago to liaise with him made him cautious. No mage who trained with Dojin still lived—including the guy’s master. No foul play was suspected. Simply bad circumstances, but Dom remained suspicious. Dojin would probably be eating while killing him…like he was now as he munched on some sort of bread.

“Long time since we’ve had a meeting. I assume you to be well,” Dojin said with his mouth full.

Dom kept his eyes focused on his handler, watching for unnecessary hand movements.

“Times sure are different, aren’t they?” he rattled on. “However, human fashion has evolved exquisitely. Bread?” He pulled a new slice out of the container next to him and offered it Dom’s way.

“Why did you summon me?” He crossed his arms, too tired to tolerate chitchat and too skeptical to accept food.

Dojin tsked. “A bit of small talk won’t hurt you.”

“It’s distraction so you can try to manipulate my mind.” He filled his mind with an image of light so bright that if Dojin tried to read him, he’d be blinded.

The mage winced, which was a victory. “There was a disturbance in the Source last night.”

The Source was the fiber of their magic. There were two magi whose sole duty was to monitor for deviations and seek out the causes. Said monitoring happened around a magical pool housed deep in the Himalayas.

“What kind of disturbance? The kind that sends you to ask me to hunt something that scares the othermages? Or the kind that means you intend to hunt me?”

“Its meaning is unclear. Just a ripple in the pool. Has anything of consequence happened to you?” He cocked his head and rested his hands on his toned abdomen.

“The Conclave senses a disturbance and I’m their first suspicion? Figures. Instead of showing up themselves, they send you. What a bunch of pussies.”

“Did something happen?” Dojin’s ridiculous grin fell.

“I was attacked by witches and almost decapitated by a demon last night. Maybe my near-death experience caused a ripple?”

“You survived. I assume the demon and witches are dead.”

“The demon is gone. The witches I’ll sort out tonight.”