Invincible (35 page)

“Kestrel,” Filly said.

Both Joy and Inq turned. “What?”

“She said she was there—that she'd witnessed the whole thing.”

Joy hesitated, realization hitting her with a one-two punch. It was true—Kestrel had been snuffling in the leaves as Joy had crawled out of the briar patch, alone. Afterward, Inq had placed Grimson's mark upon Joy's shoulder and suggested that they keep mum, but Joy had forgotten that Kestrel wasn't an animal, like a bloodhound or pet, she was a
tracker
who worked and bartered and arranged her affairs through wizards and Folk, alike. She was a professional, an expert, known to be the best. And she'd been a witness to Joy's magical murder.

Filly smirked as if she'd read Joy's mind. “Yes, well, by accepting my bid, she is bound to tell no one else—the secret was sold to me in my keeping.” The young warrior smacked Joy in the arm. “You see? I told you that your secrets are safe with me, Joy Malone!”

Joy wanted to hug her, but didn't quite dare. “Thank you.”

Filly grinned. “You should!”

She clasped Joy hard around the biceps and pulled her into a laughing, slapping embrace. It felt solid and happy and wholesome and good. Something inside Joy loosened, letting her finally breathe.

“Very well, very well,” Graus Claude said while sprinkling plant food into his fountain. “Now if you would be so kind as to fetch a towel so you can clean up your—” his wide mouth puckered around the word “—
secretion
, I would very much appreciate it. Posthaste.”

Filly laughed and threw a quick fist-in-the-air salute before dancing out the ironwood doors.

“Well, that's all delightful,” Inq said casually. “But we came about a separate matter.” She raised the dowsing rod and spoke a word that swallowed itself. The tiny pink pearl strapped to the wood with a rubber band glowed. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Inq chirped. “Now you've done it.”

Joy's head swam. She stumbled, taking an unconscious step away from Graus Claude. “No.” It was all she could say. He looked mildly bemused, then unhappy, then grim.
Guilty
, she thought.
He looks guilty.
She looked at his silk shirt with its thick collar and its buttons of pearl.
Pearls are a particular specialty of mine.

The sudden quiet was thick and unsettling. “Tell me,” Joy said. “Tell me it's not true. Tell me you didn't send those pearls to Monica.” Her fingers clenched into fists. The scalpel felt hot and sharp. “Tell me you didn't betray me!”

Graus Claude paused, tasting the words on his lips. “I did not betray you, Joy Malone.”

Joy stared at him, waiting. “And?” The word echoed shrilly.
“And?”

His icy blue gaze never wavered. He said nothing.

“Why?” Joy shrieked. “Tell me why!”

Graus Claude sighed, steepling his hands. “It was the least invasive option,” he said. “The kindest one left, which I pursued specifically keeping your finer feelings in mind.” His gaze grew steely, his icy blue eyes bright. “Your friend possesses something valuable of mine.” He measured his words carefully. “My efforts to locate or otherwise procure it had thus far proved unsuccessful and therefore I found it distastefully necessary to become more directly involved with its recovery. I wanted the matter resolved with as little fuss as possible, which would have been in everyone's best interests, but, as with all things that have even a passing acquaintance with you, the task proved far more difficult than could ever be countenanced.”

Joy gaped at him, stunned. “Are you
kidding
me?” she railed. “She nearly choked to death! You nearly killed her!”

“I did not expect there to be any magical interference,” he admitted. “If left untouched, it would have been a painless command. It was never designed to injure Miss Reid, merely ensure her compliance without any further complications.” He wrung his hands, flustered. “By all accounts, she took the necklace willingly! I had arranged for the Bentley to pick her up and transport her to me, and then afterward, she could have happily kept the gift, none the wiser. I could not have surmised that she would have wished to remove it so quickly—fickle female!” He looked further ruffled, tugging gently at his collar. “There was a time when such tokens of affection were accepted with the utmost privacy and propriety. There should not have been a
scene
.”

“But you didn't have to do that!” Joy snapped. She couldn't quite believe that he'd been more misguided than malicious. “You could have just asked me to get whatever it was for you. Heck, you could have even asked
her
! She's kind of a great person who doesn't deserve to be
strangled
!”

The Bailiwick sighed, as if Joy were purposefully being very stupid or very naïve. “Don't be droll, Miss Malone,” he said. “I could not have made such a request without exposing my position and the object of my interest, which is a poor bargaining point. Better to take it off the table quickly and quietly before anything irreparable occurred.”

Joy ground her teeth and clenched her eyes against the threatening headache. Even at the best of times, the Bailiwick's logic could be dizzying, but now he'd concocted an elaborate, paranoid delusion that he might have been suffering under ever since they'd broken him out from Under the Hill. Joy tried to be rational.

“What are you
talking
about?” she muttered, finally. “Monica doesn't have—!”

But she did. Joy knew it. Monica had something—something powerful—that had power over the Bailiwick. She'd seen it happen. She'd been there. Joy remembered him flat on the floor, bloody and beaten and wrapped in a sheet, contrite after Monica's sudden shout of surprise and her hastily made cross out of the letter opener and a pen.

She'd seen the look on his face, even if Monica hadn't. It was the same look he'd given her when he'd insisted on burning the towels stained with blood.

“You sent Kurt to toss her house,” Joy said. “It wasn't robbed—it was searched. And Mr. Vinh—” Joy shook her head. He'd asked the wizard to make an offer. The old wizard must have
loved
that! The ox bone blade may have been enspelled to sever the Amanya at its source, but by stabbing the Bailiwick, Joy had soaked it in Graus Claude's blood. She didn't need Stef to remind her that blood was the most powerful magical substance in both worlds. The letter opener still held power over him, and it belonged to Monica.

Her best friend, Monica Reid, could control the Bailiwick of the Twixt.

Joy felt her hands go numb. “Oh crap.”

Graus Claude sighed. “Succinctly, if urbanely, put.”

“So I can't—?” Joy started, then stopped. No, she couldn't. The ox bone blade was no longer hers to give. She'd borrowed it and returned it to its rightful owner, Monica Reid. “But can't she—?” Monica would have to give it back willingly, knowing that it was powerful, and therefore risk exposing the fact that it had power over Graus Claude to all of the Twixt. “Can't we—?” Convince her? Bribe her? Explain it somehow? Bring her into the brownstone, where it was safe and no one would know? That's what he'd been trying to do in his twisted, clandestine way. Joy let out a slow breath. “We'll think of something.”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “You will.”

Joy glared at him. He was right—it was her fault—and she'd have to fix it quickly, better sooner than later. If anyone found out about it, Graus Claude, the Bailiwick, and the back door to Faeland would be doomed. Joy touched the jeweled pendant, the mark of the Queen. There was so much at stake.

“Let me try,” Joy said. “My way.”

“Indeed,” he said. “That might be best. I have been trying to avoid steps that might have proved...unpleasant.”

Inq raised a hand. “Can we have a hint?”

Joy and Graus Claude said together, “No.”

“Well, fine,” Inq said as Filly returned, dropping a rag on the floor and rubbing it with her foot. “If we're all convinced that no one is currently attempting to bribe, coerce or otherwise undermine anyone else for the time being, then perhaps we can get back to the little matter of finding the proof that the King and Queen still need to fulfill the conditions of the Imminent Return?” She glanced around the room expectantly. “Anyone?” Inq clucked her tongue and pocketed the pearl. “You're all hopeless,” she complained, handing the rod back to Joy. “I'm going to go find some creative brains and see what shakes loose.” Her hand widened, fingers spread, as a hole rippled through the air. “Well, this was disappointing. Keep me posted.” She sauntered forward and slipped beyond the world.

“Mistress Inq has a point,” the Bailiwick said. “Filly, please do me the honor of remaining at your post until Kurt comes to relieve you. I shall be busy determining my current status with the Council and its affairs. Miss Malone, you should return at once to the safety of your abode. And as for you, Master Ink,” Graus Claude said, reaching into one of his deep file folders. “My unexpected sabbatical has resulted in a rather impressive backlog that demands your immediate attention.” He thumped a stack of paper three inches high. His browridge quirked. “If there is no further delay, then I would suggest adopting Miss Malone's excellent work ethic—” He patted the stack with two of his hands. “There is no time like the present.”

Ink, bewildered, picked up the thick stack and tucked it under one arm. Joy stood close beside him; she felt emptied, drained, with more questions than answers. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She flipped it over in her palm.

“It's Monica,” she said dully.

Graus Claude rumbled, “Then you have work to do.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

“SO YOU WERE
being stupid,” Monica said.

Joy threw another wadded-up Kleenex in the trash. “Yes, thank you.”

“
Really
stupid.”

“Okay. I got it. You're right.”

“You went to a hostage situation with a thing that's tried to kill you after a drug lord got Inq's boy toy to give up the keys to your house? And then forced
you
to pull the trigger?” Monica shook her head and tore open another Band-Aid. “That's crazy stupid. Are all Folk terminally stupid? Is it a hereditary thing?”

Joy sighed, patting her clean scratches with gauze. “Can we pick another topic, please?”

Monica took back the hydrogen peroxide and the tiny tube of Neosporin. “Got any plans for college?”

Joy grimaced. “Please. I haven't even gone school shopping yet, and it starts next week.” She placed the Band-Aid on her rib where a thorn had broken off under her skin. She'd had to dig it out with tweezers. She drank some more water and wiped her chapped lips. She was dehydrated, she was tired, she was stressed out and she was officially unemployed and back under house arrest.

“So your Dad knows about the whole saving-the-world thing and he still grounded you for sneaking out?” Monica said. “That's messed up.”

“He's just worried about me.” Joy said, checking her face in the mirror. She'd say she'd scratched it on a branch during her run.
Not a lie.
“And he doesn't know how else to keep me safe.”

Monica twisted her lips. “So you're going to stay home until school starts?”

Joy snorted. “Heck no.”

“So what aren't you telling me?” Monica asked. “I listened to your story from Mom's Big Reveal to your latest showdown in Boston and I heard serious editing going on.” She raised her hands above her head. “Big edits. Huge.” She turned her head against the pillow, smashing her back-to-school haircut flat. “Are you going to tell me what you're not telling me? Because I'm telling you that I can tell you want to tell me.”

Joy paused. “I'm not entirely sure what that means, but no.”

Joy hadn't figured out how she was going to get Monica to give her the letter opener after she'd already told her that it was hers by right in order to keep it from Mr. Vinh. It was the only bit of magic she had against the Twixt, but Joy couldn't let her keep it. If anyone found out what it could do to the Bailiwick, they could lose their only chance, not to mention Stef, the King and Queen, as well as Graus Claude. Despite what she'd said, Joy couldn't just ask for it, couldn't steal it, couldn't even “borrow” it—the blade would still be Monica's. She'd have to get her best friend to give it to her willingly or give it directly to Graus Claude. And she'd have to do it soon. The thought of Aniseed getting her hands on the ox bone blade made Joy physically ill.

“Okay. So now what?” Monica asked. “We just sit here?”

“Yes. For now we just sit here. Safe behind walls.”

It's what she should have done in the first place once Ink reset the wards. Dad had cleaned up the mess outside of Stef's room and they had an appointment with another contractor sometime next week. There was a note on the fridge as well as a bag of seven layer bars, with love, from Shelley. Joy and Monica had been making their way through them. Monica showed Joy how they were better with salt. She sprinkled some more on the gooey chocolate-coconut-caramel square and took a bite.

“We sit here,” Joy said while chewing. “And we wait.”

“Hoo-rah.” Monica said. “I feel like I should
do
something. You're out there, being stupid, and I'm just hanging around waiting to get attacked by FedEx.”

“You're doing something. You
did
something,” Joy said, pointing to the wax doll. She hoped it wasn't just her imagination that the seed might be open a crack. It was hard to tell through the dye. “It's the nicest thing anyone's done for me to help me get back to normal!”

“Yeah, well,” Monica said, “you weren't that normal to begin with.”

“Ha ha,” Joy said, adding carefully, “But there
is
something you could do—”

A noise clanged in the kitchen. Joy and Monica scrambled with well-trained best-friend instincts, flipping on music, grabbing the nail polish, tossing medicine bottles and tubes in the underwear drawer and stashing the bloody bandages under the bed, flipping a magazine open on the bedspread and stuffing their blades under the pillows. Monica grabbed the wax voodoo doll and tossed it into the ouroboros box for good measure. Joy sat on the bed and read the color of the polish in her hand: Captivating Coral.
Of course
.

There was a knock at her door, which sounded polite, although the babble of voices behind it didn't.

“Joy?”

“You in there?”

“C'mon, kid.”

“Let's go!”

Monica frowned at Joy. “What's this? Grand Central Station?”

Inq stepped through the door as Ink appeared outside her closet. Joy sat up. Monica stared. No one looked like they quite believed what was happening right then.

“Joy,” Ink said. He glanced at Monica. “I am sorry, but we have to go.”

“There's a warrant out,” Inq said. “We just got word. The Tide is calling for an immediate dissolution of the Council. Folk are demanding that they stand down as the governing power hindering the Imminent Return.”

“What? That makes no sense!” Joy said. “They didn't even remember anything about it until the Amanya spell was broken!”

“The Council agrees with you,” Inq said. “That's why they've shifted the blame on you.”

Joy gaped.
“What?”

“The Council has agreed to incarcerate you and charge you with aiding and abetting a known criminal with intent to commit High Treason as an appeasement,” Ink said. “They get to retain their authority as long as they can try you for your involvement and build a case that you were manipulating the conditions of the Return to suit your personal agenda.”

“I wasn't—!” Joy coughed on the fact that she
had
been after the King and Queen in order to ask them to change the rules for her, to keep her from changing, to grant her a boon. Her tongue stopped swelling and she choked on her spit.

“Exactly,” Ink said.

“They're after you and they're on their way here.” Inq grabbed Joy's purse and threw it at her. “You have to leave. With us. Now.”

“Now?” Joy said weakly, grabbing the scalpel.

“It isn't safe,” Ink said. “My wards will hold, but they cannot prevent what is coming.”

Joy grabbed Monica's arm. Monica grabbed her dagger.

“Dad?”

Inq shook her head. “Protected by the same familial rules that kept Aniseed's graftling from harm. If the Council is trying to do this by the book, no one will dare touch him.” The Scribe searched the room with her fingers spread wide. “They claim that they can track you anywhere you go. They have a dowsing rod, and some goblin braggart claims he's acquired three drops of your blood.” Inq shot her a wry glare. “But of course you would never be so foolish as to let anyone do that—why, then they could use the Anvesana spell to track
you
, right?”

Joy twisted her fingers. She'd paid Ladybird three drops of blood for the drug she'd used to knock the Red Knight senseless and forgive Ilhami's debt. Inq swore in several foreign languages.

Monica mouthed,
Stu-pid
.

“Your father will be safe,” Ink said. “Your mother is foresworn. You have to leave, but you have sacrificed all armor—all personal protections—save one.”

The Cabana Boys pushed through the door. Luiz and Antony, followed by Tuan and Nikolai, Ilhami and Raina, flanked the doorway, guns at the ready. Kurt in his Kevlar and swords stayed in the hall. Raina blew Joy a kiss. Ilhami would not meet her eye.

“Ah.” Nikolai smiled at Monica and tossed his caramel bangs. “Hello again.”

Monica stared up at the Russian underwear model. “Oh. Sweet. Jesus.”

“Jesús is at home with his mother,” Luiz said, pronouncing the Spanish. “I tucked him in myself.” He gave his butter-melt smile and a quick bow. “We will be your escorts for the evening.”

Tuan smirked. “We've come to rescue you!”

“Or pre-rescue you,” Antony said holding a Colt .45. “Why wait?”

“There is nothing in your oath that prevents bodyguards,” Kurt said. “Especially in the case of a preceding Edict.”

Raina shrugged. “We figure if they can use the same argument, why can't we?”

Joy found that she could breathe. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God, thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Clock's ticking,” Raina said, checking her wrist. “We ready to go?”

“You, too,” Ink said, taking Monica's hand.

“What? No!” Joy said.

“She is not your family,” Ink said. “And her protections may be insufficient.”

What went unsaid was whether Sol Leander would protect Monica against the Tide.

“We'll meet the others at the brownstone,” Inq said. “She'll be safer with us than if she stayed here.” She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Besides, I like her. She's feisty!”

“But—” To bring Monica along was to drag her into the heart of danger and Joy felt the flash of hopeless panic, the color of old blood, the memory of the Red Knight reflected in a mall of shattered glass.
I can't let it happen again!

“Please,” Joy said, grabbing Monica. “Please don't. I mean it. Please?”

Monica shook her head. “You heard the lady—I'm safer with you. And, no offense, but I don't trust any of these guys to keep you from doing something stupid.”

Raina flashed a golden-gloss smile. “Ooo! I
like
you! You're smart.”

Joy stood slowly, overwhelmed with panic and tears. She looked around at the resolve in everyone's faces. “I'm just—”

“Loved,” Ink said gently. “You are loved, Joy Malone.”

“That's sweet, but we're leaving now.” Inq spread her fingers and marched forward, pulling her well-muscled and well-armed harem in her wake. Monica and Joy exchanged glances, Ink took their hands and Kurt covered their backs as they slid through the portal, which wobbled and warped with the scent of dried roses.

Joy, Ink, Monica, Inq, Kurt and the Cabana Boys disappeared through the concentric ripples—gone.

* * *

Monica admired the Bailiwick's office, impressed and slightly dazed. Joy tried to see it for the first time with its great mahogany desk and emerald dealer's lamp, its shelves full of art and books, its Roman pedestals, lily fountains and heavy curtains against the sun. But the giant, four-armed frog in the gold-rimmed spectacles was undoubtedly the thing you'd notice first.

Filly clapped Joy's shoulder and gripped her forearm in greeting. The Cabana Boys took their seats. Ilhami flipped his chair ass-backward and draped his arms over the top. Joy was conscious of how Graus Claude tracked Monica's movements, eyes in covetous slits; she would have to keep her friend as far away from the Bailiwick as possible, for everyone's sake.

Kurt entered the room and professionally drew the double doors closed. All eyes turned as the Bailiwick settled himself with a groan of his throne-like chair.

“You never cease to amaze me, Miss Malone,” the Bailiwick said. “Each time, you bring me new surprises and you are certainly never one to disappoint.” His head quivered as it swung from right to left. “I must confess that I find this current state of affairs rather upsetting on a personal front, and that, quite frankly, is something which I cannot abide. Not being on the Council at present, I cannot verify the claim that Aniseed and the Tide have threatened dissolution, but as there appears to be more evidence than can be dismissed in good conscience, I therefore can only accept the fact that Aniseed has, indeed, returned.” His exhalation carried the weight of worlds. “And, knowing her motives as we do, she will no doubt aim her considerable resources at stopping you or, as additional insurance, destroying me. As such, I have a vested interest in ensuring that she does not succeed.”

Monica leaned close to Joy. “Does he always talk like that?”

Joy nodded. “Yep.”

“My usual position at Court being currently unavailable means that my own not-inconsiderable resources are stretched thin, but my best intelligence reports that Aniseed has reclaimed her seat upon the Council as it stands, subsuming Sol Leander's voting block and assuming his place as representative of the Tide. As such, she has more than enough momentum to move forward with her original plan—or at least its core purpose—to lead a coup against the humans, upsetting the balance between our worlds in order to bring about her misguided Golden Age.” He shook his jowls. “With enough well-placed promises of power, wealth, privilege and revenge, I imagine that many will march under her banner, swept up in the fervor of annihilation, which, without the King and Queen to assuage them, will ultimately result in further infighting, division amongst ourselves, and paving the way toward our mutual destruction.”