Soul Ink (8 page)

“Pit stop!” shouted Ari, as she jogged right and slid to a halt. There, Liam crouched, buck naked, with his hands over his ears. A mutilated ice drake thrashed a few feet away. I pulled Liam to his feet, hoping his lethargic reactions were the result of the bell, not head injuries. Not until after we left the subbasement, the basement, and in fact, were halfway back to my apartment, did I start to think maybe, just maybe, we’d won.

If not a victory, a stalemate.

The cabby pulled up at my apartment building, and I opened the door to exit.

Liam didn’t move.

In a panicked haze, with Ari’s help, I pulled him from the cab and called Grimm. “I need you. I need help now.” I showed him Liam. In the light of the apartment building doorway, now I could see the bruises and cuts that covered his body. Worst of all was the wound on his back, where the skin lay gray and lifeless.

Grimm appeared in the glass of a burned-out porch light. “Get him inside. He’s suffering from hypothermia more than anything. Unless you’d like to explain how he has tooth-marks from an extinct creature on his skin, we’ll have to treat him at home.”

Ari and I dragged Liam to the elevator, which I allowed myself to take this one time. My issues with elevators dated back to a job Grimm gave me early on. Faced with a haunted elevator, Grimm’s solution was to give me a safety harness and let me ride it until the ghost burned itself out trying to kill me. Which took three and a half days. I liked to think of it as loving stairs instead of hating elevators.

When we got to the apartment, I turned on the shower and flopped Liam inside. And we sat together in the scalding boil.

It must have been over an hour before he began to shake and convulse.

“It’s a good sign,” said Grimm, watching from the fogged up mirror. “He’s warm enough to know he’s cold.”

A few hours later, Grimm pronounced him ready to be loaded into bed, under an electric blanket. I planned to join him, adding my meager body heat, but a knock at the door sent me searching for my gun.

Outside the door, a young Indian man waited. He knocked again. “Ms. Locks, I have a delivery for you.”

I opened the door, gun in hand. “Who are you? How did you know where to find me?”

He looked at the gun in my hand without a care, and took out a bottle that must have contained liquid sun. It shone like a spotlight, throwing shadows behind me. “Call me Gabe. I heard about what happened at the chapel. We didn’t mean for humans to get involved, or get hurt, so give your friend two spoons every three hours. And don’t spill it, or you’ll have a six-thousand-alarm fire before you can blink.”

I uncorked the bottle and winced as a blast of heat singed my hair. “What is this?”

“Liquid hellfire. Comes in handy every now and then. And your other question: Your boss? He’s under contract to my boss. Have a good evening, Ms. Locks.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which was just as well, since I didn’t have one.

I’d seen Haniel. But what Gabe implied was that an angel could look, well, as human as I did. Either way, I wanted to try his medicine. When I got back to the bedroom, I did my best to rouse Liam. He shook and shivered, even with the blanket on high, but with Ari’s help, I sat him up.

“I need you to take this,” I said. After a moment, I opened his mouth and poured in a swig of liquid fire. Not like I had a spoon I could pour it into without melting.

Liam gasped and choked, but managed to gag it down. “More,” he said, his voice weak.

I hesitated until he slipped an arm out and put his hand over mine. “More.”

This time, he swallowed half the bottle. His skin gradually turned a healthier tan, except for the wide swath of gray on his back, and he sank back to the pillow, no longer wracked by shivers.

And I waited through the night.

•   •   •

It took three days for Liam to wake up fully. Another two days before he felt like telling me what happened outside. That he’d killed one ice drake and mutilated another, but only after taking several direct blasts from their arctic breath. A true dragon, a cold-blooded creature, would have died on the spot, but Liam’s human side saved him. The waiting guests had either fled or fallen as collateral damage.

The doctor’s prognosis said Liam would wear scars from frostbite the rest of his life, just below the letters in my name. I went back to work that week, and when I arrived, Grimm already waited in my office mirror.

“Morning, Marissa. It’s good to have you back.”

“Good to be back. Any sign of Belzior?”

Grimm shook his head. “No. And the chapel collapsed in what can only be called a most terrible disaster.”

“The bell?”

“Buried under the rubble. Probably smashed beyond recovery. The bell was unimportant. What matters is that my agents have survived.”

“We didn’t stop Haniel from becoming a demon.”

Grimm looked from side to side, then shrugged. “Every being has the right to make their own decisions, Marissa. Even bad ones. Like yours.” He glanced down to where my tattoo had been.

“I was able to undo mine.”

“Were you?” Grimm looked to my other arm, where the handmaiden’s mark lay traced in white scars. Now solid black.

I held up my hand, which shook violently, and tears filled my eyes. “I didn’t—I mean—”

“Marissa,” Grimm spoke softly. “Traces of the fae ink remained in your system. The handmaiden’s mark was traditionally inked in when the handmaiden swore herself. Given the Black Queen’s apparent interest in you, I hardly consider this surprising.”

I rubbed the scars again. The Black Queen was dead. I’d destroyed what remained of her when I picked a fight with a fairy. This had to be the echoes of her curse. “What are we going to do about the museum? Don’t they still have a watch out for Aiyn’s Press?”

“Not to fear, Marissa. I made arrangements while you were on leave. Simply take the box on your desk back to the museum, smile and nod when they thank you for recovering it. Your boyfriend is trying to reach you, you know.”

I put my hand on my bracelet and waited. “Liam?”

“Hey, beautiful. I’m thinking about coming into work.” Even through our link, I could practically feel his smile.

I glanced to Grimm, who made sure I was aware just how disdainful he found acting as our private-chat operator. “Meet me at the museum of magical antiquities in Kingdom.”

“Got it,” said Liam. And he was gone.

Grimm crossed his arms. “What shall I tell Arianna? She was expecting your assistance with a trio of pigs who’ve invaded the zoning committee building.”

“Ari can make bacon on her own,” I said, grabbing my purse. “I’ll be back after lunch.”

“I doubt that very much, Marissa.” Grimm faded out without giving me a chance to reply.

•   •   •

At the front of Kingdom Museum, I found my boyfriend. He wore a flannel shirt that obscured the bandages on his back and neck, and a smile that warmed me to the core. “I bought us tickets already. You say this place is boring. I say you haven’t really seen it.”

I reluctantly took his hand and let him drag me toward the door. “Didn’t we prevent an archangel’s rampage? And get rid of my tattoo? We’re supposed to be enjoying some happily ever after.”

Liam chuckled and pulled me close. “We’ll start in the Hall of Warts. Four hundred years of fungal growth, including one from an ogre.”

“That’s your idea of happily ever after?”

He leaned down to kiss me. “I’m with you. That makes me very happy.”

J. C. Nelson
is a software developer and ex-beekeeper residing in the Pacific Northwest with family and a few chickens. Visit the author online at authorjcnelson.com.

Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!