Invincible (25 page)

That stole some of Monica's fire and most of Joy's righteousness. The two of them moved a little closer together until their shoulders touched.

“The Sight was her choice,” Ink said. “I witnessed its choosing. You, Councilex Leander, are the one obliged to intercede on her behalf. Joy acted out of loyalty, out of love.”

Monica stared at the dark gentleman in the cloak of galaxies. “Wait.
You're
Sol Leander? My guardian angel?”

The Tide's representative looked pained. His mouth twitched.

Ink bowed at the waist. “Councilex Leander, may I present Monica Reid, one of your charges under auspice.”

Sol Leander's gaze flicked to Monica and then to the Scribe. “As you say,” he said with barely a bow. “I had no choice.”

Monica's fury simmered behind half-lidded eyes. “Nobody's forcing you.”

Sol Leander sneered, “On the contrary.”

“Still,” Joy said quietly. “Thank you for saving her.”

Monica glared at the vampiric representative of the Tide. “Yeah, thanks for that,” she said as she knelt down and began picking pearls out of the lawn. Ink sank beside her and helped gather up the tiny, cream-colored pearls, spilling them into her cupped palm. Joy was left standing by the bushes, feeling caught between worlds.

Sol Leander swirled aside. His cloak shimmered, a mass of sparkling, spectral doom. His gaze speared Joy, radiating disapproval. She was hyperaware of her feet touching the grass; although the power seemed enticingly close, she did not dare attempt anything that might expose her. If the Tide ever found out what Ink and Graus Claude suspected, she was as good as dead.

Sol Leander turned so that his cloaked back was like a wall, shutting out Monica and Ink sifting their fingers through the grass.

“You must be more careful, Miss Malone,” he growled. “For her sake, if not yours.”

Joy nodded. She knew it. She was playing a dangerous game with more lives than just her own.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Save her, I mean.”

Sol Leander blinked slowly and looked out at the quiet suburban street. “She is under my auspice, which makes her my duty and obligation, both to my people and yours,” he said matter-of-factly. “It was the oath I swore when I accepted my place in the Twixt—to preserve what was wrought between our worlds, to preserve the magic...at all costs.”

Joy started. “Wait, you mean Monica has magic?”

“Of course she has magic!” he sneered hotly. “Idiot child! What do you think this is all for? Do you have no idea what it means to be one of us, even now?” He gestured dismissively at the lazy neighborhood. “They
all
have magic—they
are
magic!—every one of those hidden places and mortals marked by our kind! They are our sacred responsibility and this one is
mine
!” He turned enough to glance at Monica, almost against his will. “She was an innocent victim of an unprovoked assault like my own—” His words shut off with a tightening of his lips. “It was true of her father before her, and his mother before him, and her sister before her.” His gaze flicked back to Joy. “And so it was, so it shall be. They are, all of them,
mine
to protect.”

Joy couldn't help it—she glanced at the downward-pointed arrow that slashed the side of his throat, its mirror image bisecting Monica's left eyebrow. Monica was part of this—had always been part of this—carrying a piece of the world's magic long before they'd ever met. A small part of her felt relieved that she hadn't done this to her friend, but she also felt smaller. Whatever was in motion was so much bigger than her, than Monica, than any of them.

The Destroyer of Worlds.

How can I stop it? How can I fix this?

“Do you know who did this?” Sol Leander hissed, interrupting her thoughts.

“No,” Joy said. “I mean, it could be anyone—anyone who's after me.” Joy glanced over her shoulder, feeling a chill creep down her spine. Her next words came slowly. “Anyone who would think to manipulate her to get to me.”
To get at my secrets. To control me. To stop me. To blackmail me to obey.
Joy remembered the slap of cold slush and burned skin and shuddered.

“You suspect someone?” he said.

“Yes.” She thought about Briarhook and Hasp and Aniseed.

He mustn't know!

“But you aren't certain,” Sol Leander said.

Joy shrugged. “It's a long list.”

Sol Leander nodded. “You've made an impressive number of enemies in your short time amongst us,” he agreed. “Anyone at the top the list?”

Joy glared at him. “The Tide.”

“Ha!” Sol Leander laughed smugly. “Spite blinds you. The Tide may be many things, but we have a strict adherence to the rules. We are considered rather orthodox in our interpretation of the Twixt as it was meant to be, before it was corrupted by the Council after we were abandoned—”

“After you
forgot
,” Joy corrected. “After everyone in the Twixt forgot all about the King and Queen and the rest of your people trapped behind a locked door between worlds.” Joy tried not to sound quite as smug as he had. “A door
I
managed to open. A spell
I
managed to break.”

“As you say,” Sol Leander conceded. “But you are still a danger to yourself and others. And now you have managed to place your friend in danger, accusing my colleagues of the crime, all the while refusing to see what is
right before you
.” He waved a hand in Monica's direction. “Someone very powerful, very arrogant or very desperate would dare such a thing at this sensitive time.” He cocked an arched eyebrow, his words like molasses—sticky and spoiled-sweet. “Sound like anyone familiar?”

Joy felt like she'd been punched in the gut.
Aniseed! Aniseed had to be behind this!
She knew it in her bones. Joy tried to school her face but could feel the hot flush creeping up her neck, giving away her fears.

“Well,” Joy said, trying to match his austere tone. “If we really wanted to know who did this, the easiest thing would have been to let the spell take hold and then simply follow her back to whomever cast it.”

As the words left her mouth, Joy gagged. She felt sick.
What am I
saying
? I'd never do that!
She pressed the heel of her hand to her heart that wasn't there. What was she becoming? More Folk than human? Cruel? Manipulative? Heartless? Was that what she'd need to be to stop Aniseed for good?

Sol Leander laughed, startling her. “You surprise me, Joy Malone,” he said, tucking his long hands into his bell sleeves. “You truly
are
becoming one of us. Perhaps that is why the Council has granted you leniency. They must recognize your potential.”

Joy paused, biting back her retort. “You mean the motion passed? They're not coming after me?”

His mouth twisted as if he'd tasted something foul. “As the new courier, you are protected under Council law. Your freedom of movement is therefore necessary in order to achieve the Return.” He turned his head, spearing her with his scathing stare. “Yet let me make this quite clear—you are a pawn in this game,” Sol Leander whispered. “And, through your meddling, your friend is now in play.” He clutched the edge of his cloak. “Therefore, I am charging
you
with keeping her safe, as you are most likely closer to the source of this threat than I.” He inspected the sky for a moment as if reading words in the clouds. “If she is as important to you as you say, then protect her. Protect her with more than what you have.” He leaned closer, the bridge of his nose angling over hers. “And know this, Joy Malone—if my charge is threatened in any way, I am bound by the rules to protect her by any means.” His eyes sparked with promise. “So I would be well within my rights to kill you.” He stood back with that barest of smiles and adjusted his cloak with sparkles and swirls. “Remember that,” he said, and, with a snap, Sol Leander disappeared.

Monica and Ink stared at the spot where the Tide's representative had been.

“Well, he's a charmer,” Monica said.

“Yeah. Charming.” Joy's mind was a whirl of words and fears. There was a kick of breeze, and Joy saw a flash of orange in the corner of her eye. She spun around, gasping, but it was just sunlight bouncing off the Japanese maple, more red than gold. She shivered in the August breeze. It was a warning. Even subconsciously, Joy knew what she had to do.

“We've got to go,” she said. “And you're coming with.” Joy grabbed Monica's elbow. “Me. Us. Coming with us. Right now. Bring the pearls.”

Monica frowned, cupping her hands together. “Waitaminute. What? Where are we going?”

“We need more magic than we've got and I know where to get it.” Joy said, trading a quick look with Ink. “We're off to see a wizard.”

TWENTY-ONE

JOY PUSHED OPEN
the door to the C&P with its two-tone hello chime. Monica was at her heels and Ink at her side. He must have been invisible since no one in the convenience mart so much as glanced up as the three of them walked down the aisle of pretzels and chips. Joy hadn't had the chance to tell him that his shirt was on backward.

“What are we doing here?” Monica whispered.

Joy grabbed a Clif Bar and a pack of gum. “Making a purchase,” she said, winding her way toward the front. “The gum is a code.”

Monica pointed at the health bar. “Then what's that for?”

“I'm hungry.”

Ink tucked his razor into his wallet as Joy approached the counter, placing her items on the mat along with a ten-dollar bill. Hai barely glanced at them as he rang up the total, tugging the collar of his button-down shirt as he made change for the ten. He handed her a plastic bag and gestured toward the back.

“He's been expecting you,” he said to Joy. “And you,” he said in Ink's direction. “But not you,” he said to Monica. She shrugged and took something from her purse, setting it on the counter with a
click
.

“Behold my passport,” Monica said straight-faced.

Hai stared at the ox bone blade before giving her a nod. “Okay, then. You, too.”

Monica picked up the knife primly and followed Joy and Ink toward the Employees Only door.

“Why did you bring that?” Joy whispered.

Monica shrugged. “You said ‘wizard,' I thought ‘magic' and this is the only magic thingie I've got.” Joy didn't bother correcting her. Monica pointed the tip of the dagger at Ink. “He could see you?”

“No,” Ink said. “But he knew that I was there.”

“So is he a wizard?”

“No,” Joy said, grabbing the doorknob. “He's a 3-D computer animation artist. His father is a wizard.”

“Of course,” Monica said. “How silly of me.”

Joy walked into the back room and pushed past the stacks of paper towels and flats of soda to grab the hidden lever behind the shelving unit. The back of the closet popped open.

“Hello, busy girl,” Mr. Vinh said calmly.

Joy led the way inside. Her shoes crackled on the woven grass mats. “Hello, Mr. Vinh.”

“You have been keeping me very busy as of late,” he said, sounding pleased. “My services are in high demand.” His head turned slightly and he addressed the air. “And how is your glamour holding up, Master Ink?”

Ink flicked his wrist, activating the glamour. “Very well, thank you, Wizard Vinh.” He bowed politely, which Mr. Vinh chose to return.

“And how is your tea?” he asked Joy.

“I haven't had it today,” she admitted.

“Always follow directions,” he said sternly. “Or results are not guaranteed.” He stepped over to Monica, who wasn't quite sure how to act. “And who is this?”

“She is my friend, known as Monica Reid,” Joy said in the roundabout way of introductions among the Folk. She hadn't meant to do it—it had become a habit out of necessity, but Monica looked at her as if she'd grown another head.

“Hi,” Monica said. “Nice to meet you.”

“No tutorials, demonstrations or free samples,” Mr. Vinh said automatically.

“It's nothing like that,” Joy said. “She already has the Sight—”

“Obviously,” he said. “And somewhat else.” He slid forward, barely disturbing the matted floor. His fingers traced the air between them, hovering at eye height, then moving down to her hand on the dagger. “I recognize this,” he said, his gaze flicking from the blade to Joy, a twitch under thick lids. “I thought this was yours.”

“No,” Monica said coolly. “It's mine.”

Mr. Vinh considered the thing in her hand. “May I?” He reached into the glass cabinet and removed his favorite spyglass, squinting through a smooth stone with a hole in its center as he rotated a tiny dial clockwise.

“Yes,” he said, making a few more adjustments. “I believe it is.” He looked up. “Interesting.”

Monica frowned. “What?”

“Would you be willing to sell it?” he asked, placing the apparatus back in the case. “I can offer a generous price.” Joy ignored the casual tone and watched his eyes; he wanted it—the look reminded her of Ladybird once he'd discovered who she was. There might as well have been cartoon dollar signs painted over his eyes.

Monica glanced at Joy, who shook her head. “No,” Monica said. “No, thank you. It has...sentimental value.”

“It was a gift,” Ink said. “From a relative.” He murmured a string of syllables that ended in something like
mambo
.

“Ah,” Mr. Vinh said, and tucked his hands behind his back. “Well, then, how else may I be of service?”

“Two things,” Joy said quickly. “First, can you tell us what spell is on these?” Monica handed Joy the plastic baggie of pearls. Mr. Vinh offered his palm and she dropped it in. He rolled the pearls around with the tip of his finger.

“Yes,” he said. “I can do this.”

There was a moment's pause.

“We will, of course, compensate you for the information,” Ink said.

“Good,” Mr. Vinh said, nodding to Joy with mild censure. “Hai has needed recent reminding—no freebies, even for pretty girls.”

Joy bit her tongue. Hai had given her the name of the Amanya spell, which had saved Graus Claude, freed everyone of the spell of forgetting, as well as exposed Aniseed's betrayal and illicit coup against the King and Queen—but she knew Mr. Vinh had little love for the
tien
other than as well-paying clients. He would not be swayed by the good it had done for the Twixt.

He wrote a number on the back of a business card and passed it to Ink, who nodded. Mr. Vinh took it back and wrote a single word beneath it. He did not hand it over.

“And the second thing?” he asked.

“I need to find someone—” Joy said.

“Hire a tracker,” Mr. Vinh said. “I believe your young Norse friend bartered well for Kestrel's services. I would be happy to make the arrangements for my usual fee.”

Monica gasped. “
Gordon
knows about all this?”

“No,” Joy said. “He means Filly.”

“She's a Valkyrie,” Ink said helpfully.

Monica pursed her lips. “O-kay.”

“I thought I could use this,” Joy said, unzipping her purse and removing the dowsing rod. “We used it for the Amanya spell, but I'm not tracing a spell back to its caster. I thought maybe I could use the human equivalent of an Anvesana spell, but I don't have access to anything like blood so I'm hoping you have a better idea for how to trace
mana
or something.”

Mr. Vinh and Monica looked at her with matching expressions of shock.

“How do you know of these things?” he asked.

“Blood?”
Monica said, glaring at Joy. “Really, Joy? Ew! Do I really have to point out that that sentence has got
‘stupid'
written all over it?”

Joy plunked the Y-shaped piece of wood on the desk of painted scrolls. “It's Stef, okay?” Joy said. “My brother, Stef. Your apprentice, Stef. He's been taken by the King and Queen and he's trapped until I can convince them to come out and the only way that I can do that is if I find Stef before they do something to him.” As she said it, she wondered if she was already too late. But she needed this spell and she needed Filly's distraction and she probably needed whatever Ink had commissioned from Idmona first. She wasn't about to race into Faeland without being prepared, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to.

If Hai was right, all magic gave off
mana
—ripples of telltale energy—that could be traced back to their origins, which would include a certain wizard-in-training and any enspelled things he might have on him, like glyphed glasses or a frayed iron-bead bracelet. If she was right, she could use human magic to pierce through Faeland. And if her brother was right, all it would take was the right spell.

Mr. Vinh smiled with genuine pleasure. “Very good.” He ran a hand over the dowsing rod approvingly. “I see you have been busy, too.” Thinking of all the places she'd been dragged around as she sought the origin of the Amanya spell, she could only nod. She wasn't keen about repeating the experience, but she'd do all of it again if it meant saving Stef. Mr. Vinh tapped the side of his cap. “You're clever. Smart girl. This is a good thing for you,” he said, turning slowly. “A bad thing, I think, for the
tien
.” He chuckled. Mr. Vinh obviously approved.

“You can do this?” Ink said, less a question than a statement.

“Yes,” Mr. Vinh said. “Certainly. All I need is blood.”

“Again, I call
stupid
.” Monica said.

Joy winced. “I don't have any blood.”

“Not just any blood,” Mr. Vinh waved off their concerns. “Very messy. Unhygienic. All sorts of Health Code violations. No, no—” He paused. “I need the blood of the person you are looking for.” He gestured offhandedly toward the door. “It's common insurance among the
tien
, even some humans who are aware of its properties make select deposits, investments against just such an emergency.”

Monica glanced back the way they'd come. “You keep blood samples in your stockroom?”

Mr. Vinh frowned. “Of course not!” he said. “They are in the refrigerator.”

“He is your apprentice,” Ink said. “Do you have a sample of his blood?”

Mr. Vinh huffed through his nose. “Not anymore,” he said stiffly and paced the room. “When we learned of your true nature, he returned to me and demanded that we destroy all of his samples.” The older man fiddled with one of the boxes on the shelves. “I complied, of course.”

“Of course,” Joy said slowly, wondering whether Stef had been trying to protect himself or her from discovery? Or maybe keep his master from temptation? What could a wizard do with samples of their blood? Joy had a feeling she didn't want to find out.

Mr. Vinh tapped his stylus thoughtfully. “Do you have his shaving razor? Toothbrush? Band-Aid? Anything that might have a trace of his blood on it?”

“He was heading off to college,” she said. “He took everything. We could break into his car and look...”

“Wait.” Ink stepped closer to Mr. Vinh's shelves of dried herbs and things floating in jars. “Is a blood spell like a blood key?”

Joy remembered the term. She flashed back to the illusion of her kitchen and the things boiling in the dark beyond Aniseed's trap, which had been sealed with a blood key. They'd escaped using a blood-soaked coffee cake as a decoy. Joy could still feel the sugary crystals rolling over her open wound.

Mr. Vinh paused, his curiosity piqued. “I believe they work on the same principle.”

“Then perhaps it does not need to be as specific as a key,” Ink continued. “Perhaps you only need a sample of the shared bloodline.”

The wizard considered it. “If your theory applies, then, yes.”

Ink turned gently to Joy. “If so, you could find him using your blood.”

“Joy—” Monica said, eyes wide. Joy didn't need to hear the words,
No Stupid!

“It's Stef,” she said aloud, to Monica and Ink and Mr. Vinh and herself. It felt inevitable, like Fate unspooling. “I'll do it.” Her fingers shook. Ink placed his hand over them. Monica squeezed her shoulder. Joy addressed her brother's master. “Just show me how.”

* * *

A pinprick and a Band-Aid from the First Aid kit, and it was over. Joy watched as a drop of her blood disappeared into the small divot at the crux of the Y-shaped rod. Mr. Vinh performed the ritual. Ink carefully collected any trash, which he said he would destroy himself. The wizard nodded with professional courtesy and a modicum of respect.

“A wise precaution,” the wizard said. Monica whispered a “Thank you” to Ink.

“Done,” Mr. Vinh decreed as he wiped his hands on a paper towel. The oil he'd used to seal the reservoir still shone on its surface. Joy's drop of blood was barely a dark patch underneath. “Now, here is your spell—guaranteed for up to three generations.” He handed her a rolled piece of scroll paper tied with black ribbon. “The vibrations should increase as you get closer.”

Joy's shoulders and elbows ached with residual memory. “Yeah. I'm familiar with it.”

Mr. Vinh smiled. “I have always been fascinated by the intersection of technology and magic,” he said with genuine delight. “You will tell me how it worked when you both return?” Joy appreciated the unspoken vote of confidence that she would return successfully with her brother in tow. She knew, no matter what he felt about his wayward apprentice, he would not leave Stef to the
tien
.

“Yes,” Joy said. “Thank you.”