Invincible (11 page)

Filly lifted Ink by one arm and bent forward, hauling him over
her back and then tugging him into place. “A wise precaution,” she said,
approvingly. “Good tactics. I like this magician of yours!” She nodded in the
wizard's direction as she followed Joy out the door. His eyes were magnified
into strange shapes as he watched their passing. Filly hesitated in the
doorway.

“Can you ask if he—?”

“You want to do business?” Mr. Vinh said. “Buy glamour
first.”

The Wizard Vinh wasn't born with the Sight so could only see
the Folk with his invented oculars, but Joy wondered whether the old man could
read lips.

Filly shut her mouth as the storage room door opened into the
multicolored aisles of candy bars and salty snacks. Joy walked uncertainly to
the front of the store as Filly waited by the chips.

“Need a bag?” Hai offered as Joy came closer.

She nodded. “Thanks,” she said, dropping the baggie into the
Have A Nice Day bag and paying for a bottle of Gatorade to wash it down. “And
can I have the key to the ladies' room?”

He picked up a short dowel painted pink with a key dangling off
the end. “Around the corner to the left.”

Joy took it and the bag. “Thanks again.”

* * *

Joy pushed the bathroom door open and let Filly in
first. Fortunately, it was a single large bathroom with handicap access. Joy
shut and locked the door.

“Did you two plan this?” Joy asked.

“Oh, aye,” Filly said, lowering Ink onto the tile floor. “This
was it, the grand plan!” She poked him with the toe of her boot. “At least Ink
had his priorities in order—first free the Bailiwick,
then
try to kill you.” She grinned as she arranged his loose limbs.
“Ink and I used to plan stunts like this all the time for fun—makes a dull
workday brighter. Although most often, I'd be bait.” She elbowed Joy. “Remember
when we met? I'd been priming a brash young bull at the bar? Ink needed him
knocked senseless in order to mark him and asked me to egg him on. What a lark!
Wasn't hard, truth be told. All it takes is a long sigh and a short skirt.”
Filly whistled through her teeth and punched herself in the leather-plated
breast. “But that boy was fighter through and through! A good catch!”

Joy thought back on it. “So you already have a glamour?”

“No,” Filly said with a smile. “I borrowed Hildr's. She never
missed it!”

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 like 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?”

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?”

Joy lifted her bag from the C&P. “Maia sent Avery to speak with me—he had a formula for an elixir to adjust the change. We took it to the wizard. He mixed up a batch.” Joy rattled the baggie and went to fill a mug with water. “Mr. Vinh says it ought to slow down the effects until he can come up with something better.”

The Bailiwick frowned, which was no small thing—his mouth was as wide as her arm. “That is not as promising as I'd hoped.”

“It's all I've got,” Joy said, pressing buttons on the microwave. “Which is better than giving up.”

“Indeed,” Graus Claude said. “What did it cost?”

The microwave beeped. Joy dropped in a tablespoon of dried herbs and started stirring. “He said he'd bill me once he figured out a cure.”

The giant frog pressed three hands against his chest in alarm. “You opened a tab with a
wizard
?” he squawked. “Without any prior binding agreement? Did you make a contract? Was it witnessed? Notarized?”

“It was more like a verbal handshake.” Joy stirred the powder into a vile-colored mush. She added more water. “Why? Is that bad?”

“Look at his face,” Filly snickered as she reentered the kitchen. “You're doomed.”

“What else is new?” Joy said, and took a gulp of the stuff—it tasted like crushed mustard, wasabi, charcoal and Freon. Her mouth flooded with saliva. Her throat burned. Her nose stung. The glob dodged her tongue and stuck to the roof of her mouth. She slammed her palm into the counter and blinked back tears. She made a fist and swallowed, gasping for air.

“Gah!” She unscrewed her bottle of Gatorade and drank half of it down. She wiped her mouth with her wrist. “Ugh! That's awful!”

“Well,” Graus Claude said, relaxing slightly. “At least that sounds like it will work.” He filled a large glass of water in each of his hands. “If he'd wanted to poison you, it would likely taste better. The foulest concoctions are the trademark of proper witches, wizards, herbalists and midwives and are widely considered to be ruthlessly effective.”

Joy swallowed again, testing her teeth to make certain they hadn't dissolved. “Fabulous.”

“Consider yourself fortunate. I had to contend with your brother's abominable behavior in your absence,” he said. “It is a wonder that you weren't in worse shape when we began your tutelage. Disgraceful.” He downed each glass in quick succession. “It is good to see that at least one good thing came out of your efforts.”

“A proper wizard's brew,” Filly smirked. “And we had to fight to get it!”

“Two good things, then,” Graus Claude said, approvingly. “May the Council see your escape as a show of strength! I dare say they should not underestimate you or your resources. They would be wise to grant you a wide berth.”

Joy scraped her tongue against her teeth. “Really?” she said. “Is that what you think they'll do? If you were sitting on the Council and I had just escaped, having not only the key to the Imminent Return, but also the door, would you just let me go?”

The Bailiwick gave an affronted sniff. “Don't be ridiculous. I would have you killed in your sleep.”

Ink froze in the doorway, casting a black look at his employer. Graus Claude had the decency to look embarrassed.

“That is, of course, speaking purely hypothetically and is completely irrelevant,” the Bailiwick hastened to add. “They will be looking to skew their decision in view of the Twixt's reaction to the gala.”

“Great,” Joy said, and finished off the last of her Gatorade. She still couldn't get the vile taste out of her mouth. The idea of doing this once a day was nauseating and the best motivation she could have for wanting to get the King and Queen back as soon as possible. She opened the fridge looking for something that might help kill the taste. Salami? Pickles? Blue cheese? Nothing. What a time for Dad to be on a diet! She closed the door. “I think the Council's had it in for me ever since I removed my mark, and certainly since I took on my True Name. Screwing up the gala was just the icing on the cake,” she said, glancing at Graus Claude. “I'm really very sorry about that. You worked so hard. I tried, but...”

“On the contrary,” he said, reaching around her and opening the fridge. He removed various containers and condiments and placed them on the counter in a steady stream. “You gave an excellent performance—quite beyond my wildest hopes, truth be told. You handled yourself with poise and decorum, showing wit and favor, humor and grace and completely damning those who tried to force their wills upon you, quelling any and all attempts to maneuver you into a less-than-strategically advantageous position.” He took a knife from one of the drawers. “You proved that you are no one to be underestimated, Miss Malone, and that does us both credit. That nimble knot with Sol Leander? Beatific. Striking his aide on the dance floor? Sublime. And your answer to Hasp and the broken pearls? Well, I could not have dreamed better.” He chuckled. Ink stared at Joy—this was all news to him. Joy prayed the Bailiwick would stop talking even as he smacked his lips. “It was, I must say,
most
rewarding.” His hands began a complicated dance, assembling a massive sandwich with the dexterity of shuffling cards. “And though I may humbly take most of the credit for your transformation into a passable debutante, I was pleased to hear that most of the unexpected improvisation was uniquely yours.” He nodded approvingly at her and his towering lunch. “To which I say, brava, Miss Malone! Masterfully done.”