Invincible Page 11

  Joy gazed at Ink, puddled on the floor. It made her sick to see him slack against the scuffed tile. She hugged her arms and glanced at Filly. “So now what?”

  “We wake him up,” Filly said as she knelt beside him. “All part of the plan.” She rubbed her palms together eagerly. “Like I said, he told me what to do.”

  She ripped his silk shirt collar, exposing his chest, and pushed her fingers straight into his flesh up to the wrist. Joy covered her mouth, feeling ill. Filly licked the blue spot under her lip as she fished around inside, the putty-like skin gaping out the wound. Wet, sucking sounds squelched off the walls.

  “There we are, then,” Filly muttered to herself. “Almost got it—” There was a popping noise and something jumped under his left pec. The Valkyrie eased back on her thighs and stood up. “That should do it.”

  Blood dripped off her fingers, leaving gruesome splashes of black neon light on the tiles.

  There was a click and Ink started breathing, his chest slowly filling with air. The beat of his heart was thick, even and loud, and he blinked open/closed/open/closed, shutter-speed quick. The sparks of light in his eyes stopped swimming in circles, then focused on Filly. His mouth shut with a snap.

  “You are in the wizard’s lair,” Filly said. “You were right—inside his protections is neutral territory, so you’re in a confirmed safe zone. Oh, and you are on the bathroom floor.” She wiped her hand on her legging, smearing Ink’s blood. She glared down at him sternly. “Now patch yourself up. I’m done carrying you.”

  Ink pressed a hand to the yawning hole in his chest and sat up slowly, vaguely massaging the skin back together with long, slow strokes. Joy stared—she couldn’t help it—wondering if he was really alive, if he was really okay, if he’d lost too much blood or if he’d attack her again. Ink glanced up. A rose-colored blush crept over his cheeks.

  “Joy,” he said, quiet and disarming, unable to look away.

  The sink sputtered and splashed as Filly washed her hands, then shook off her fingers, spraying water like a dog. She curled her lip at the towel dispenser.

  “As if I’d wipe my hands on dead trees!” The blond warrior turned around and smirked at the two of them. “I’ll be outside,” she said. “Call me if anything needs beating.”

  The door closed behind her with a snick.

  Joy kept staring. Ink didn’t move. The floor was a mess, spattered with dark, rainbow light. With a lightning jolt, Joy realized Ink’s blood couldn’t be replaced while the princess was still in Faeland beyond the door.

  Joy hurried to the towel dispenser. “Let me help...” She yanked the handle repeatedly, making a long, beige-colored spool. The crunching sound was oddly normal, comfortingly real.

  “Wait,” Ink said and pressed his hand on the floor. Joy watched the splashes of blood tremble, forming tiny beads that rolled over the tiles, gathering around his handprint and siphoning into his skin. He lifted his palm. The floor was clean. Joy scrunched the wad of paper in her hands, useless.

  “Oh,” she said weakly. “Right. Neat trick.” Every time she thought she was prepared, she was reminded once again that he wasn’t human. In that moment, it was hard to believe that she wasn’t, either. She twisted the ball of paper towels in her hands. What were they doing? What was he thinking? Why did she both feel like running to him as well as bolting out the door? Everything felt dangerous and precarious, off balance and strange. She couldn’t make sense of what she was feeling. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “Joy, I am sorry,” he said, rising to his feet. “I had to leave. You would not be safe from either the Council or me until we could manufacture a caveat that would satisfy the rules,” Ink said. “I had to stay away, for both of our sakes. I could not bear it if I...” His voice trailed off, echoing in the room. “But I was not the only one who knew that you would come here, eventually, so I requested Filly’s intervention should I appear.” He tried to catch her eye. The paper towels crinkled in her fists. “I knew that the Wizard Vinh protected his neutrality and therefore I would not be beholden to the Accords within his domain. If I could get inside, you would be safe from me.”

  Joy lifted her face and swallowed, falling into his wide, black eyes. Her voice betrayed her, warm and hopeful. “Sounds risky.”

  “It was a calculated risk,” he admitted. “But one worth making.” He took a tentative step closer, his fingers tracing the wallet chain by his hip as if hesitant to trust either his hands or hers. “It is safe now.”

  “As long as we’re here,” Joy said slowly, watching his hands, envying the silver links under his touch.

  Ink nodded. “As long as we are here.”

  “In the bathroom.”

  He smiled. “In the wizard’s territory,” he said. “All such places are declared neutral, noncombative zones where both human and Folk can coexist without fear of reprisal or retribution. I obey the letter of the rules.” He gave a little shrug, a human gesture. “Filly assured me that she could manage things if I held back.”

  Joy raised her eyebrows, a smile tugging at her lips. “That was holding back?”

  Ink grinned. One dimple. “It was not much harder than holding back now.”

  “From trying to kill me?”

  “From trying to kiss you.”

  Joy blinked. “Oh,” she said softly. Ink came closer. Her head filled with the scent of spring rain.

  “It was worth this,” he said again, circling her edges, her forearm, her waistline, her shirt, not quite touching but drawing closer, near enough to brush the fine hairs on her skin. “I needed to talk with you without the fear that I would be forced to act upon my knowledge, as is mandated by the rules that protect the Twixt.”

  “Sort of like blinding humans with the Sight?” Joy said. She could feel her breath bounce off his face.

  “Yes,” he said. “I hesitated. And so I missed.” He took another cautious inch. It cost him something to do it, something precarious and brave. “I wanted to miss.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I fought the mandate. I fought the rules and made a mistake that was no mistake.” Ink hesitated to touch the side of her face, his fingertips barely brushing the baby hairs by her ear. His voice trembled. “I am confident that I may do so again.”

  “So...we’re here?” she asked hesitantly.

  Ink cupped the side of her cheek. “We are very, very here.”

  She turned her face into his palm, hardly daring to let go of her fears, her uncertainty. She took a long, shaky breath. “I thought you’d left me, that we’d become enemies—” she confessed. “That I disgusted you. That you hated me.”

  “No,” Ink said, pulling her close. “But you are only safe from me as long as we are here, until we have proof that you pose no threat to the Twixt, and that is only until you walk out those doors.”

  Joy curled in his arms, feeling both safe and afraid. “Are you my enemy?” she whispered.

  “No. But I am bound by my Name.” He drew back, searching her eyes, and steeled himself. “Mark me,” he said. “Bind me to your Name and then I cannot turn against you.”

  The shock was like a splash. Joy pushed him back. “No!” she said with honesty and horror. “I can’t. I mean, I don’t even know how...”

  Ink sighed. “Do you not know your auspice yet?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t even know how I find out.”

  Ink smiled tiredly. “It calls to you. It is who you are and what you believe in. You will know it l
ike you know yourself. And I know you, Joy Malone.” He brushed his bangs from his eyes. “Tell me it will not happen, and I will believe it.”

  Joy hesitated. “What?”

  “Say it will not happen.” It was a demand, a request, a plea. “Your words will make it so, as per the rules. You cannot tell a lie and therefore you will make it come true.” He squeezed her shoulders and gazed deep into her eyes like he was the one drowning. “Say it, and I will believe you.”

  She trusted him, unsaid and said.

  “It will not happen.”

  Calm slowly seeped through his body, smoothing his face, his arms and the tight curve of his spine. As his tension melted, Joy felt hers grow. Were they talking about the same thing? Did he suspect or did he know?

  “Ink?” she asked. “What do you think isn’t going to happen?”

  He rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. “I think you are not becoming an Elemental.”

  Joy swallowed. “That’s right,” she said firmly, pulling their arms tighter. “I’m n—” But she couldn’t say it for certain. The word gagged on her tongue. “I won’t.”

  Hope wasn’t the same as a lie.

  “The Elementals are the sworn enemy of the Folk, decreed to be destroyed for the sanctity of the Twixt and all its peoples.” His fingers fisted on her arms, kneading and needing. “Please,” Ink begged. “Tell me how I can keep you safe.”

  Joy leaned back enough to focus on Ink’s face. “Vinh gave me an elixir to help slow the change,” she said. “Either he will find a cure, or he will buy us enough time to bring the King and Queen back into the world.” Her words were coming faster, giving Ink the hopes and truths he needed. “If we can bring them back, then they can change the rules—they can stop this from happening.” She licked lips gone dry. Joy tilted her chin. “How’s that?”

  Ink nodded slowly. “Very convincing,” he breathed, the words caressing her mouth. She could taste them on her lips.

  “Are you convinced?”

  He kissed her, a deep, wanting kiss that reached all the way inside her and squeezed.

  Her arms looped around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Their arms tightened, their breathing changed, their kisses became desperate, grasping, gasping for air.

  There was a pointed knock at the door.

  “Are you well in there?” Mr. Vinh’s voice called.

  “Yes,” Joy said, disengaging her lips from Ink. “Just a minute.”

  “A minute,” Ink whispered thankfully in her ear and held on tighter. “My world has forever changed in less.”

  TEN

  FILLY SMILED KNOWINGLY as they walked out of the C&P, Joy and Ink almost touching, hovering a breath away from not being able to keep their hands off each other.

  Once beyond Vinh’s boundaries, Ink sliced a passage directly into Joy’s foyer, bypassing his wards, the alarms, the door and the stairs. Joy zipped into the condo, prepared to see Graus Claude, but completely unprepared to find Stef shouting at him.

  Her brother stood in the disheveled remains of an Armani tuxedo, tie gone, jacket torn and sleeves pushed up to the elbows, displaying charms and wizard’s marks along the length of his forearms. He stabbed an accusatory finger at the four-armed amphibian, who squatted resolutely, eyes hooded, looking grim.

  “I don’t care who is after you,” Stef shouted. “They can search all they want outside this house! This is still my domicile and its borders fall under the established Accords—”

  “Stef!” Joy snapped. Her brother spun around.

  “Joy? Joy!” He looked incensed, confused and relieved all at once. “What’s all this?” He pointed around the room, starting with the Bailiwick dressed in a bedsheet and moving clockwise. “What is he doing here? What is she doing here?” He waved past Filly and trained his glasses on Ink. “And where have you been?” he said. “You were supposed to be protecting her!”

  Ink stepped calmly beside the Bailiwick. “I could say the same thing of you,” he said as he considered brother and sister together. “But she is safe now.”

  Graus Claude gave an almost-imperceptible nod.

  “Safe?” Stef almost laughed at the word. Almost. He spread both arms riddled with magic and scratches and wine. “Does this look safe to you? Is this a safe house now? Or a zoo?” He turned to Joy. “I rushed home after a rather significant riot Under the Hill to find a wanted fugitive wearing my bed.”

  “Oughtn’t you be away at university or Hogwarts or something?” Graus Claude asked mildly. Joy watched her brother’s face turn various shades of purple, but even he knew the Bailiwick was no one to trifle with. The great frog’s browridge rose as if he were struck by sudden understanding. “Ah! You believe that you are not being shown proper deference? That you are due some modicum of respect even in the face of less-than-ideal circumstances.” His eyelids lowered to half-mast. “I can only imagine what that must feel like.”

  Filly snorted a laugh, poorly disguised as a sneeze behind her wrist.

  Stef jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t you start,” he warned. “Last I saw, you had to blast Joy out of a hunk of rock after she’d been buried in mud golems. And before that, you were chasing after that Red Knight, dragging Joy off to God-knows-where. Through a tree.” His voice climbed. “You’re complete havoc waiting to happen!”

  “And I thought you a stubborn, pigheaded spellcaster with a mouth full of bad air and a brain full of cheese,” Filly said simply. “Good to know we’re both excellent judges of character.”

  Joy hurried to change the subject and distract her brother. “Where’s Dmitri?”

  Stef swung back to glare at Ink. “He’s stuck outside the wards,” he said flatly. “Neither of us could break them.” He crossed his arms. “Mind letting him in?”

  Ink shrugged. “Ask Joy.”

  Her brother frowned at her. “You didn’t place these wards, did you?” he said, pained. “You’re not dabbling in magic now, right?”

  “Me? No!” Joy said hastily. “Ink placed the wards to keep the Folk out of our house. I asked Ink to make exceptions for those who could help us. Those I’d trust with my life.”

  Stef marched up to Joy and whispered hotly into her face. “You trust these guys with your life?”

  Over his shoulder, Joy saw her friends gathered together in the kitchen. Graus Claude. Filly. Ink. “Yeah,” she said. “I do.” She turned to match Stef stare for stare. “Do you trust Dmitri with my life? With yours? With Dad’s?”

  Stef stiffened and then sighed through his nose. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then,” Joy said quietly, then with a little more volume. “Ink, can you please let Dmitri in? Filly, can you make sure the boys behave?”

  The Valkyrie raised her brows. “Well, now, that’s an order I’ve never heard before!”

  Ink withdrew the silver quill from his back pocket. “I can put a clause on a window,” he said to Stef. “Preferably yours.”

  Stef growled, “Fine.” Joy punched her brother’s arm. He added a halfhearted “Thank you.”

  “It will be temporary,” Ink said. “And, therefore, delicate. It would be wise if both you and your friend watch your step.”

  Stef seemed to hear the double meaning and held his tongue. Her brother nodded and led the way into his room, presumably to unlock his bedroom window for the satyr. It didn’t seem worth mentioning that they were two floors up.

  “I see you have managed to rally Master Ink to your cause,” Graus Claude said smoothly. “As if there were any doubt.”

  “There was some doubt,” Joy muttered.

  “Mmm,” the Bailiwick purred knowingly. “Were you as successful with your original endeavor?”

&n
bsp; That was a longer story. Joy tried to tell it as quick as she could before the others returned. Hitting the highlights took a surprisingly short time.

  “The good news is that Maia is clearly on our side and, evidently, so is Avery. And the Council seemed inclined to believe that by being the first to open the door, I’ve become the new courier by default, so it’s up to me to tell the King and Queen that it’s safe to come home, so they’re better off leaving me be.” Joy sighed. “You can imagine how Sol Leander and the rest of the Tide liked that idea.”

  “I imagine the Council’s new clemency does not extend to the Tide,” Graus Claude intoned. “Stopping you is still their best hope to achieve their Golden Age. As soon as the King and Queen Return, Aniseed’s plans are all for naught. None of the Twixt could be disloyal.” He tapped his claws on the counter. “I wonder if they know about the graftling?”

  Joy shook her head, trying to get the image of that bulbous, fetal thing out of her mind. “Ugh! I hope not,” she said, quelling the urge to scratch the goose bumps off her arms. “Aniseed’s clone is enjoying the Grove’s protection, secluded in the nursery.” Her voice hitched higher, tighter. “How long do you think it’ll be before she comes after us and tries to take over the world again?”

  Graus Claude grumbled. “Hysterics will not do, Miss Malone, and are entirely unnecessary. Firstly, the graftling is not the same as Aniseed, no matter its resemblance or what you might think. It is an entirely different entity altogether.”

  “But—!”

  “Secondly,” the Bailiwick interrupted smoothly. “It will take years before the graftling is grown enough to be safely separated from its stump. And in the interim, it will be guarded by the satyrs of the Grove and therefore be both closely observed and zealously protected. It can do you no harm and poses no threat. To react otherwise is to be paranoid.”

  “But—”

  “Baseless paranoia is, forgive the phrase, stupid,” the Bailiwick said flatly. “And remember what Miss Reid said—No Stupid.” It surprised Joy enough to shut her up.

  The Bailiwick nodded. “Now then, what is Maia’s solution to our little problem?”