Bound by Ink (A Living Ink Novel) Page 34

  He walked the circle clockwise, blood tainted with shadow dripping onto the spell written into the hull of the ship.

  Isa dogged his footsteps, mingling her blood and her magic with his as he erased the portal from existence.

  They reached the point where they’d started.

  Nothing remained on the deck. No etched circles or symbols. Not even the sticky residue of their blood.

  He opened his bloody palm for hers.

  Blinking, cradling her aching hand against her chest, she met his gaze.

  “Trust me.”

  Offering up a crooked smile, she laid her palm atop his. Her breath hissed in between her teeth. Where their blood mingled, scalding black energy poured into her veins.

  He shuddered and rasped, “Heal.”

  Gold shot through with spreading ink stains answered her summons. She channeled the power between their hands. Summer midnight, bright with gold stars, flashed into the same tiny space.

  Lightning struck the joining of their hands.

  Isa gasped for air and found herself staring at the ceiling, her palm, hell, her entire body, inside and out, stinging. She heaved herself to sitting.

  Steve landed on his knees beside her, his eyes wild. “What the hell was that? Are you all right?”

  “No idea. On any count,” she said, looking for Murmur.

  He’d landed on the opposite side of the boat. He sat up looking as shaky as she.

  “What happened?” Steve demanded. “He’s on you. Why . . .”

  “What?”

  “The tattoo is back, but . . .” Steve shook his head and threw a glance across the boat to where Murmur sat. “Who’s that in Daniel’s body?”

  “Murmur. I have Ink? I shouldn’t have Ink.” She jerked the sleeve of her sweatshirt up and froze, staring. She had ink, but it was flat. It didn’t shimmer or move as if breathing on its own.

  Steve blew out an unsteady breath. “This complicates things.”

  The pain in Steve’s voice registered as a second lightning strike. Isa winced. She lifted quaking fingers to brush his jawline. “I don’t know what it all means. Not yet.”

  He clasped her fingers in his and turned his head to press his lips to her hand.

  “I know,” he rasped. “I know. Time to get you out of here. The AMBI will be here shortly to take custody of their rogue agents.”

  Isa glanced at the two men Ria guarded. “Rogue?”

  “The local office has been trying to get the goods on those two for over a year. When you vanished, they made use of my suspension,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

  “You were recruited by the AMBI?”

  He smiled. “Temporary, interagency cooperation.”

  He rose and tugged her hand. “Clear out.”

  Before the AMBI came to arrest her. Or the man they knew as Daniel Alvarez. Of course, Steve had to stay.

  “I don’t understand,” Isa said as she climbed to her feet. “How is this ‘the goods’ on these guys?”

  “It isn’t,” Steve said. “The murder of the federal agents is.”

  “They accused me.”

  “It’s clear you had nothing to do with those deaths,” Steve said. “And that’s all I can say about that until after their trials.”

  “What about the containment camps?” she asked.

  “All hell is breaking loose about those,” Troy rumbled. “You got picked up on national news, darlin’.”

  “With blood in my teeth and a rat’s nest for hair? Can I cede my second fifteen minutes of fame to someone else?”

  Murmur climbed to his feet and came to her side.

  Steve stood, holding her left hand.

  Murmur took her right hand.

  Isa relaxed. They were right where she needed them. She could make this work. Somehow.

  “The governor is taking it in the shorts,” Troy said. “DOJ announced an investigation half an hour ago. Violation of civil rights.”

  Masatoshi, his hands tucked behind his back, came to Troy’s side, his gaze locked on Nathalie.

  “Your friend,” Masatoshi said.

  “Nat’s had a really hard day,” Isa said. She pulled free of Steve and Murmur. She touched the back of Nathalie’s hand.

  Nathalie cried out.

  Isa jerked back. “Nat? What’s wrong?”

  Masatoshi said something.

  “Trauma,” Oki translated. “Magic injury inside.”

  “Let me heal that,” Isa said.

  “No!” Nathalie said. “Don’t touch me. Please. Don’t.”

  Isa froze, staring at Nathalie’s gray face and wide, unfocused eyes.

  “What are you?” Nathalie whispered. “You weren’t human. You weren’t. What are you?”

  Isa recoiled. “I don’t understand. Nat. I’m me. What the hell did you see?” Memory kicked. She’d had a sinuous tail. Claws. Golden velvet paws.

  Nathalie shook her head, shivering, her eyes wide and unfocused. “I saw you underneath, but Isa was gone.”

  “A predator of this world,” Murmur said, “like Ikylla.”

  “Like Ikylla?” Troy echoed. “You mean like a lion?”

  “Jaguar,” Isa whispered.

  Every eye in the room turned to her.

  “Jaguar?” Steve prompted.

  “I don’t know her name. She is a Mayan moon goddess. A woman wearing a jaguar’s face,” Isa said. “I—I had no idea I could or would take on her aspect.”

  “What the hell were you guys doing here anyway?” Isa demanded, throwing her hands wide. “I needed to know you were out of harm’s way!”

  “We wanted to help,” Oki said, voice wobbling. “We needed to help.”

  Isa closed her eyes. She should be furious. Instead, regret dug a trench into her gut, took position, and hunkered down for a long siege. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nathalie.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Remorse counted for nothing.

  For the two days she was in the hospital, Nathalie refused Isa’s visits.

  Steve, Troy, his wife, Cheri, Oki, and Master Masatoshi took turns tag teaming Nathalie.

  Assured Isa had been cured and would live, they left her alone. She let them.

  Murmur vanished into Daniel’s life.

  When Nathalie’s doctors released her, Isa gathered her courage and texted a request to Steve that he stop by.

  Murmur, as if magically aware that she’d made up her mind to answer Steve’s proposal, beat him to her front door.

  Wagging and whining, Gus met Murmur at the front door. The dog replayed the same song and dance when Steve arrived.

  Steve’s gaze went past her. Rage darkened his gray eyes and he stopped dead in the doorway.

  Isa snorted, grabbed his lapel, and yanked him into the apartment. “He got here five minutes ago. I did not call him.”

  “You didn’t need to,” Murmur said.

  Steve bristled.

  “Perhaps you can advise me,” Murmur said to Steve.

  Isa blinked.

  Steve started.

  “I didn’t foresee survival,” Murmur said. “Not in this form. If I live as Daniel Alvarez, it will be on my terms. Not his.”

  “I don’t understand,” Steve said.

  “His dwelling is tainted,” Murmur said. “I do not want it. He willingly shackled himself to people who believe they comprehend the concept of power. They seek to bind me by their agreements with him.”

  Like a man intrigued in spite of himself, Steve lowered himself into one of Isa’s armchairs. “Who exactly?”

  “You will assist?” Murmur countered.

  Ikylla jumped into Steve’s lap and settled down, eyes squinting in smug bliss.

  Steve glanced from Murmur to Isa. “Is this why y
ou called?”

  “No,” she said. Her heart kicked into high gear. She sank to sitting on the edge of the couch. “I lived. I came back. You—you haven’t asked me.”

  A pleased smile came and went on Steve’s face. His glance went to Murmur, lounging on the opposite end of the sofa from her with Gus resting his chin on Murmur’s thigh.

  “I think we have some issues to work through first.”

  “You have a key,” Isa pointed out. “He doesn’t.”

  “He doesn’t need one if you’re going to let him in.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her phone buzzed. Incoming text.

  She ignored it.

  It rang, playing “These Dreams.”

  The shop.

  She huffed out a breath, broke eye contact with Steve, and answered. “Troy. What’s up?”

  “Nat’s here. Get down here. Now,” Troy ordered. “She’s packing.”

  “What?” Isa bolted for the door. “On my way.”

  She paused in the doorway and glanced back. “Can I trust you not to kill one another? It’s Nathalie, packing to leave.”

  “You can’t fix this,” Steve said, his voice gentle.

  Fear slid into her gut. “I have to try.”

  She ran.

  “Hey.” Troy opened the shop door for her. “Where are Steve and Murmur?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “Murmur asked for Steve’s opinion on how to get Daniel on the straight and narrow. I think.”

  Troy breathed a laugh. “If you have those two on good terms, then maybe you can repair this damage, too.”

  “I haven’t fixed fucking anything, Troy. Not with Steve. Not with Murmur. Not with me.”

  “Try with Nathalie,” he ordered. “She’s in the studio.”

  Isa went to the door of the piercing studio.

  Nathalie rummaged through drawers, shoving her belongings into a backpack.

  Isa stopped in the doorway feeling like she’d walked into a wall. “Nathalie, don’t go. Please.”

  Nat glanced up. The fear still hadn’t drained from her face, and her gaze ran away when Isa tried to look her in the eye.

  “Gotta,” she said, shoving belongings into her backpack. “I can’t—I can’t do this, Ice. Can’t forget. Can’t sleep. Can’t.”

  “We’re your friends. Your family,” Isa said. Her voice broke. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Let us help.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Where will you go?”

  “Japan. Master Masatoshi offered to teach me how to”—she shrugged—“cope, I guess.”

  “Gus and Ikylla will be heartbroken,” Isa whispered because she couldn’t trust her voice, not with the hot coals raking the backs of her eyes. “Me, too.”

  Nat swiped moisture from her face.

  “I’m sorry,” Isa said. “I—”

  “Don’t,” Nathalie choked. “You grew up with this stuff. I didn’t.”

  By “this stuff,” Isa assumed Nathalie meant magic. Life-altering, form-shaping magic that she hadn’t thought to protect her friend from. Didn’t know that she could have if she’d wanted to.

  Isa nodded. Hot, heavy moisture overflowed her lashes. Because Nathalie was right. She did have to go. “Master Masatoshi will be an excellent resource.”

  “Thanks.”

  “God damn it,” Troy growled from behind Isa. Thud. The door frame shook.

  “Will you come back?” Isa asked, pressing her voice small so it wouldn’t crack again.

  “I don’t know. Troy? You okay?”

  Isa glanced at him.

  He nursed scraped, bleeding knuckles that were rapidly swelling. His brows lowered like storm clouds over his pinched features.

  Isa held out a hand. “I’ll—”

  “Do what?” he spat. “Make everything okay?”

  She dropped her hand back to her side, hurt lodging in her chest. “No. We’ve established that isn’t in my power.”

  She walked away. Her fault. Because of magic. Because of who and what she was. She pulled up short in the middle of the reception area.

  Weary.

  Aching.

  “I’m done,” she said. “Nightmare Ink is yours. You don’t have to leave, Nathalie. I should be the one.”

  “Stop it,” Nathalie snapped. “It isn’t you. It’s everything. I can’t stay. I can’t go on living in ignorant bliss. Troy! Shut up! There’s so much I didn’t know. So much I didn’t want to know. Now I do. I have to figure out how to deal with that and with what happened. But I want Nightmare Ink to come back to. I want family to come back to.”

  Troy sniffled.

  Isa choked on a sob.

  “Damn it, Nat. We’ll miss you,” Troy said.

  “Yeah,” Nathalie breathed. She walked past Isa, her pack slung over one shoulder, and out the front door of Nightmare Ink.

  The floorboards shook beneath Isa’s feet.

  Troy settled an arm around her shoulder.

  Isa started. Her indrawn breath wobbled.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ll patch the wall.”

  “Will you let me patch you?”

  He blew out an audibly shaky breath. “Yeah. Got a client in an hour.”

  Without a backward glance, Nathalie climbed into the waiting taxi.

  It pulled away.

  Another sliver of Isa’s world crumbled.

  She really, really hated change.

  “You, me, Steve, and a demon in someone else’s body, kid. You think we can do this?” he asked. “Can we be Nightmare Ink?”

  “You heard the lady. She wants a family to come home to,” Isa said. “We can. We have to.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks:

  To my beloved husband, Keith, whose patience, faith and support know no bounds.

  To Officer Louie J. Luiz Jr. (ret) for answering questions I hope few police officers get asked.

  To Alison Myrabo for information and for laughter.

  To Emily Ria Olesin, Alden Denny, and especially to Riley—the goofy and adorable inspiration for Augustus.

  To James Ray Tuck Jr. of Family Tradition Tattoo for being so generous with his professional knowledge—any errors in tattooing details (or lack of appropriate details) are entirely mine.

  To Laura Bickle, Carolyn Crane, and Jeffe Kennedy for helping keep me on track.

  To my family for rooting for me, for talking up my books at every turn, and for not disowning me over that faraway look I’d get in my eye whenever a story started playing in my head.

  To Dawn Calvert, Darcy Carson, Connie Colman, Carol Dunford, DeeAnna Galbraith, Melinda Rucker Haynes and Lisa Wanttaja- a great group of writers, mentors and, best of all, friends.

  To my editor Leis Pederson for helping me tell a better story.

  To the members of Feline-L whose wide-ranging backgrounds and interests allowed me to ask the most obscure questions and receive cogent answers.

  Last but certainly not least, my sincere thanks to Autolycus, Cuillean, and Hatshepsut, my feline snoopervisors, lap warmers, keyboard walkers, and reminders that no matter how large looms the deadline, there’s always time to play.

  Marcella Burnard, author of Nightmare Ink, graduated from Cornish College of the Arts with the ever-practical degree in acting. She promptly made more money as a musician than as an actor, so it made sense that she switched to writing fiction for Berkley. Her first book, Enemy Within, won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice award for Best Futuristic of 2010. The second book in the series, Enemy Games, was released in 2012, followed by the novella, Enemy Mine, set in the same world, in 2012. She currently lives with her husband an
d their cats aboard a sailboat on Puget Sound, and writes full time.

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review at Goodreads or any reader site or blog you frequent.