Ink and Shadows (33 page)

“Min thinks she can get Mal home. I don’t want you to strain yourself any more than you have to. She’ll be able to do it going home. You know home is the easiest place for us to find.” Ari touched Death’s open mouth with his fingertips, brushing over the man’s lips to hush him. “Don’t argue, Shi. I’ll take the boy with me. I can carry him there.”

“Kismet. My name’s Kismet,” the young man said, eyes narrowed. “Not boy. Not kid. Kismet.”

“Yeah, gods save me from Californians who name their children stupid things,” Ari commented.

“I’m glad Mal is okay.” Death’s relief shone through his fatigue, warming Ari’s belly. “Maybe he brought Mal luck. Luck is more contrary than you are. Who knows?”

“Maybe I did.” The young man strained to see around the immortal’s legs. “I probably owe him more karma than he owes me.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. There’s nothing predestined. Not about you or anyone else.” Ari shook off Death’s warning hand on his chest. “Let me finish, Shi. I didn’t let Min tear him apart because you asked me to, but I’ve got to admit, she’s right about him being the reason Mal’s in the shape he is in right now.”

“War.” Death’s soft reproach stopped Ari in midrant. “Kismet isn’t the cause of Mal’s injuries. Whoever did this to him is responsible. The boy’s just a vessel for that.”

“I’m just saying. There’s no Fate, no Karma… none of that shit. You and I know that, Death. This kid should know it too in case he thinks that being around here is somehow predestined.” Ari hooked his hand under Kismet’s arm and yanked the boy to his feet. “There aren’t three women standing around spinning thread. Drinking coffee and cutting off lives isn’t real. You shouldn’t be here, boy. You’re a mistake. A really bad mistake that we’re stuck with.”

Death caught at Ari’s shoulder, turning the blond Horseman toward him. “Leave off. It’s not his fault.”

“I just want things to be clear between all of us,” Ari replied, meeting Death’s gaze. “Something like this happens again, then I’m not going to be as forgiving. We could have lost Mal because of this little piece of shit.”

“Yeah, you were right,” Kismet said, yanking his arm free. “He is an arrogant fucker.”

Mal gingerly made his way down the short steps, Min’s hands hovering near his waist in case he fell. Kismet approached cautiously, unsure of what to make of the young Horseman’s broad smile.

Mal caught Kismet in a hug, crushing the artist to him.

Squeaking with surprise, Kismet took a moment, then returned the embrace, glad to see a friendly face in the shadowy world he’d been thrust into. Min glowered at the human, Kismet ignoring her as he made over Mal’s healed wound, peering under the oversized Year of the Rat T-shirt Auntie Kay gave Mal to wear.

“Great. Mal’s got a crush on the asshole.” Ari heaved a disgusted sigh. “That’s all we need.”

“Mal?” Death said with a shake of his head. “You think Mal…? No.”

“Trust me, I know that look on Mal’s face. I see it on mine all the time.” Ari crossed his arms over his chest, the day’s events sneaking up on him. With their youngest healed, he wanted to crawl into his own bed and sleep. “Let’s get home, and we can deal with this in the morning. With any luck, the kid will escape again and get hit by a ghost garbage truck. It’ll solve all of our worries.”

“And our problems are never solved that easily,” Death reminded him, reaching out for the jubilant Mal heading toward him.

“Can’t blame a guy for wishing,” Ari muttered at his friend’s back. He allowed himself to be jostled by Min’s enthusiastic pounding on his shoulder, the diminutive Horseman’s hard fists bruising the meat on his bones. Grabbing at Kismet’s arm, Ari wrestled with the boy until Mal reassured the human they would just be heading back home where it would be safe. Reluctantly, Kismet let himself be pulled along as Ari gathered what little energy he had to pull himself and the young human along the Veil.

“I’ll see you at home, War.” Death’s face softened, the icy porcelain mask he normally wore outside of their home set aside for the moment.

“You owe me, Death. Big time.” Ari grinned broadly. “Tell you what, you sleep with me when we get home, and we’ll call it even.”

“We can share a bed, but just for sleeping, War. Thank you for keeping me company, Kismet. You helped me worry less.” Death slid into the folds of the Veil, drawing on the strength of their home to guide him along. The whisper of his parting words worked into Ari’s gut before the shadows claimed the eldest Horseman. “I’m tired, Ari. Let’s go home.”

“You know, kid, I think I might hate your guts.” Ari glanced down at the human right before he yanked them both through the shadowy curtain. “But if you put him in that good of a mood all the time, I probably won’t kill you.”

T
HE
DARKFAE
came along in the middle of the night, sliding out from under the cover of the Veil and onto Beckett’s stoop. They dragged the shadows with them, streamers of gray mist clinging to their broad shoulders. When Charity opened the door to let the first one in, Beckett exhaled sharply.

Stepping into the main room, the creature loomed over him, wide bodied and menacing. He moved gracefully, unhindered by his enormous girth. Tusks sprouted on either side of his flat mouth, his jaw jutting forward to make room for the bony spikes. The hair on the darkfae’s head stuck up along his skull in tails, pulled tight from his forehead down to the base of his neck, the root of each tuft caught together with brass bands. A light blue tint marbled his face and arms, darker splotches appearing along the folds of his skin. Seeing the patterns in living flesh, the magus understood why some of the insane swore they saw gargoyles moving about a city’s streets.

Over the years, Beckett had collected artifacts of the Veiled, but those were dead, lifeless things that he reluctantly carved into bits and slivers to use in his spells. Standing before him was a wealth of power, shade-infused flesh that would allow him to raise armies of wraiths, servants to his will. That thought died nearly as soon as it surfaced, seared from his brain when the darkfae pinned Beckett in place with his milky red gaze.

“Charity.” The darkfae acknowledged the immortal, an accent roughing the edges of his speech.

“Aegus,” Charity replied with a nod. “I’d offer you a seat, but this isn’t going to be a long conversation.”

“You’re bold doing this in front of a human. Is he tainted enough to see our kind? Or are you wanting to drive him mad by hearing voices?” Circling Beckett, the creature snorted, foamy specks ringing his nostrils.

“I’m very sane,” Beckett answered for himself, meeting the amused immortal’s smile with one of his own. “And I see you quite fine, thank you.”

“Seer or magus?” The creature leaned forward, sniffing at the air around the human. His breath was hot on Beckett’s face, ruffling his collar when the darkfae snorted in derision. “I’m guessing magus. He doesn’t have the smell of poison in his blood.”

“Poison?” Beckett repeated, questioning the word.

“Humans that can see past the shadows usually stink of drugs to calm their nerves.” The creature smiled, showing the pointed long teeth hiding behind his lips. “Chickenshit creatures, humans. Hard to believe they’re the reason we all exist.”

“This chickenshit creature is going to be your boss,” the magus pointed out.

“Charity is the one who sent out word that he wanted assistance with something,” Aegus replied dryly, staring down at the human from his greater height. “I’m being rented. No one is my boss, human or otherwise. What’s the job?”

“We need to secure a human boy.” Charity stepped into the conversation before it could dissolve any further.

“Secure?” A turn of his sloped head bobbed the tails into a cascading wave. “Do you mean bring back to you alive or in pieces?”

“Alive,” Beckett responded. “I need him alive.”

“Hardly worth the amount of money that you’re offering and not much chance of a trophy from it.” The darkfae narrowed his eyes, sizing Charity up. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is that the Four have him.” Charity let that tidbit sink in, watching the creature’s expression change from cocky arrogance to a guarded wariness.

“I’ve never heard of an immortal going insane.” Mumbling, the creature shifted. His leathers creaked as he moved, his bowed legs pacing off sections of the floor. “It’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, Aegus,” Charity said in return. “I’ll need to know if you’re in on the job before I go any further.”

“Now, the money you offer is hardly worth dying for,” the darkfae mulled. “If Death and War have the boy, then let them keep him. There are plenty of humans around. Just pick another one.”

“We’ve got too much invested in this one,” Beckett said. “It has to be this one.”

“You’ll be getting more than money for this.” Charity leaned against the back of a couch. “There are boasting rights beyond what you can imagine. Perhaps even a clan trophy if you play it right.”

He knew how the darkfae social structure worked. The lower ranked in an individual clan spent most of their lives searching for ways to raise their bloodlines’ status. Trophies brought back from raids far outweighed any monetary gain a darkfae might bring to the families’ coffers. Money was spent, but bones and boasts were eternal. He was depending on this ambition to forward his plan, but it would require some level of commitment before he would offer up the potential prize.

Charity saw the lure catch his prey. He’d chosen carefully among the brutish darkfae. Their success would depend not just on the killing skill of the individual but also on personal motivation. It would take something nearly irresistible dangled in front of the creatures to assure their loyalty. Money wasn’t going to be enough to keep them from abandoning the fight if it turned.

“I know your ranking in your clan, Aegus.” Charity caught on the darkfae’s ambition, playing to his status. “What you can get from this would be enough for your family to acquire a lot of influence, possibly even leadership of some sort.”

“There’s nothing that can offer us that.” Aegus stepped away from the conversation, turning his back on the men. Tempted to walk away, leaving Charity to his own devices, his clan status and his position in his family chafed at him. If he could raise his bloodline’s ranking high enough, it would be possible to kill his father, and he would become the head of the family without any political fallout. His clan wouldn’t mind losing a popular leader if their status was raised high enough.

“There is,” Charity disagreed. “And I have the means to give it to you. Curious enough?”

“I am curious, so I’m in. I give you my word on that.” The darkfae nodded once, his gaze moving to rake over the magus. “But if there’s any funny business, I’m killing your pet human first.”

“Understood.” The immortal shook his hand behind his back, shushing Beckett before he could say anything. “But there won’t be. I promise.”

“I think the pet human might have something to say about it,” Beckett mumbled at his lover’s brother, keeping his voice low. Charity turned his head to the side, giving the man a quick smile.

“So how are you going to get him away from the Four?” the darkfae asked, shifting on his feet. “And how many others are you intending to hire?”

“I think we could use five others, perhaps,” Charity replied. “And getting the boy away from the Four isn’t going to be as hard as you might think.”

“I still think you’re crazy in thinking you can just walk up to them and take something they have.” Aegus grimaced, his mouth working around his tusks.

“Let us worry about that,” Beckett reassured the darkfae. “We’ll talk further once we decide on the others.”

“This better be good, immortal,” Aegus warned Charity. “Where can I wait until you two wade through the rabble waiting to talk to you? And I’ll need something to drink. It’s going to take you a long time to pick through the trash I walked through.”

E
VENTUALLY
C
HARITY
decided on five, choosing from the dozen or so that answered his initial summons. For the most part, the darkfae he hired knew one another, either by reputation or from prior jobs together. The creatures broke off, talking low and sizing up the next. They’d each been promised the same thing, money and a chance to lift their personal and clan status. Achieving the latter would more than likely depend on the failure of another, and the darkfae were calculating which among them would be that loser.

“Is this all of us?” One of the smaller darkfae slurred, his shoulders wide and thick with muscle. His mouth was ill equipped to speak, rows of blunt broad teeth folding his lower lip out. Genetic evolution and the low status of his clan had led to his bowlegged stance and hunched back, bred into his line for mining work that was no longer being done in the modern world the Veiled now found themselves in.

“The cavefish’s counting how many boots he’s going to have to polish.” A deep laugh echoed through the darkfae. Hearing the derogatory clan nickname angered the shorter darkfae, his face hardening as he looked at the others.

“Look, I’m not going to expect all of you to get along.” Charity looked out into the room, watching the creatures jostle for position. “I do expect you to at least work with one another. You can kill each other later if you like. For now, any killing that you do is done for me, and is directed by me. Do you have any questions before we start?”

“What about the human?” The male who taunted the shorter darkfae spoke up. “Are we expected to answer to two of you or just one?”

“The human is named Beckett.” Charity motioned for the magus to step forward. Beckett dropped an ice cube into a glass of water before joining the immortal, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“How crazy is he?” The darkfae they’d first interviewed grinned widely at the harsh laugher his question brought out in the others. “He can see us clearly and doesn’t look drugged.”

“I’m not insane,” Beckett offered. “Well, not in the true sense of the word.”