Soul Ink (5 page)

Falling back into a monster alligator’s lair wasn’t on my list of things to do for the day. Landing in a pile of eggs and obliterating the few that remained ranked even lower. I sank into the detritus of shells and dying alligator-lets, and froze.

My hunch was that Mama worked mainly on smell. And covered in egg goo and bits of shell, I couldn’t possibly smell like shampoo or deodorant, which were the only two scents Liam admitted to me having. If I ever smelled like anything else, he kept his mouth shut, and hopefully she would too.

Now, some people will tell you dinosaurs went extinct because they had brains the size of walnuts. I’ll point out that alligators, mutant or otherwise, never went extinct. Scientists would say this was because they were well adapted. I’d say it was because they were too smart.

This one stopped moving, running a careful gaze over the ruined mound of eggs. It cracked its jaws just wide enough to sift through the eggshells, and began transferring shells into a smaller mound which would contain only broken shells and things that weren’t me.

Grimm had given me three months of training on how to deal with monsters like banshees, imps, or mother-in-laws, but I’d learned a fascinating trick on the job. Taught to me by a Himalayan Sherpa on vacation in the city, it involved how to handle yetis.

After many days of tracking one through the slums, we’d camped, building a fire in the remains of a Volvo, and there he revealed his secret to preventing the yeti from tearing his arms off: Hit them with something heavy, and keep hitting them until they stopped moving.

So when the alligator’s head turned away from me, I sat up, swung the tuning fork like a club, and brained it right across the head.

It hummed a note to end the world. To tear the ether apart and rend the dead. A vibration which shook all forty of my fillings and made the world shake. So I hit it again, using all the strength my tattoo could summon. It surged up my arm, all too happy to help with violence.

I suspect the alligator was used to being shot at, grabbed with ropes, or having flamethrowers leveled at it. She was the only one reacting worse to the tone. While it threatened to tear my spirit from my body, a combination of head injury and head-splitting hum left her thrashing upside down.

And my tattoo danced like something alive. It ran like a river of ink, pooling into puddles under my skin and then spreading out. With each strike of Aiyn’s Press, the strength it gave me faded, but so did the control it had over my arm. When I stopped, the alligator lay still. Only the slightest quiver at the tip of her tail told me she was still alive.

Now seemed like as good a time as any to split. With the fork over my shoulder, I climbed across the motionless alligator—and froze.

In the darkness of Kingdom’s sewers, something else moved. Not footsteps, but the slow slosh of something old and patient, or maybe just old and out of shape. Either way, it crept relentlessly forward. How many nests had Liam said he found? Two? And here was a third. Which either meant someone had crossed an alligator with a hen, or we had multiple gators loose.

The concrete column I’d tried to climb out with lay in ruins, and all the side tunnels might lead somewhere too small for me to climb out, but not too small for me to be eaten. So I waited, ready to swing the fork.

Two glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness, slithering toward me, hissing with foul breath. Which was saying something, given where I was.

The eyes closed, giving me no way to know where it was. If it was swimming up through sewage to lunge at me.

“Marissa?” The voice came from the tunnel. Liam’s voice. “What are you doing down here?”

With a gasp of relief, I hopped down off the moribund alligator. “I found a nest, but don’t worry. I already destroyed it.”

“That’s the fifth one today,” said Liam. He emerged from the shadows completely naked, and completely unconcerned about it. With a cough, he spit in one hand, using the flame on his palm as a torch. “How did you get down here?”

“Manhole behind the Kingdom Museum of Magic. Shouldn’t you be wearing clothes? Or at least boots?”

Liam blew smoke from his mouth. “Down here’s about the only place I can let the curse run loose. It has a sense of smell that’s amazing—I could smell you from a mile away. I figured it was just another one of your purses. What are you carrying?”

Liam carried a curse. Which was to say it co-inhabited his body. I’d say it gave him the power to change into a dragon, but it still wasn’t entirely clear who was in control. Liam described it more like a time-share where your co-renter was a six-thousand-year-old lizard.

I shifted the tuning fork. “Grimm told me how to remove the tattoo. This is—”

“Aiyn’s Press. Isn’t that in—Marissa.” Liam crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Wasn’t that on display at the museum?”

I choked, not on the smell, which practically came in chunks, but trying to figure out how Liam knew exactly what had been in Kingdom’s least interesting museum. “Yes. You’ve been there?”

“Grimm sent me right after I started moonlighting. I have a membership. Did you know what they’re showing this month? Lances!” A wide grin split across his face. “It’s like a horror show. The curse keeps whispering about how this one killed a dragon, who still owed it a thousand gold pieces.”

“I’m going to return the press. Grimm said it would help me remove the tattoo, and I think I know how.” I swung the fork, clipping the wall.

Liam winced as the fork went off, holding his hands over his ears. “Stop that.”

I ran my hand down it. “Does it hurt?”

“
Hurt
’s not the right word. It’s numbing.” He walked past me to put a hand on the prone alligator. “You might want to go stand over there. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

Seeing the alligator defenseless, motionless, I couldn’t stand what I knew he’d do. “Don’t.”

Liam let go of her snout. “Don’t what? I’ve already killed two of them today. The whole damn sewer’s infested.”

“Then let her go. I already ruined the nest. It’ll be another year before she lays again. I just—I just don’t feel good about this.” My arm trembled at those words, and I quickly shifted the press to my other hand, in case the tattoo had ideas of its own.

Liam’s gaze fell on Aiyn’s Press. “You ring that thing with her here?”

I nodded.

“While you destroyed the nest?

“Sort of?”

Liam shook his head. “Crap.”

“We’re standing in it.”

“Very funny.” Liam opened one of the alligator’s eyes. “This sort of thing happens. She’ll associate that noise with the destruction of her nest. Once they get imprinted on a noise, they’ll follow it anywhere looking for revenge. Grimm was telling me there was this one, fixated on the ticking of clocks.”

“Ate someone’s hand?”

“Broke into a watchmaker’s convention. Ate several grandfathers, picked its teeth with their clocks.” Liam put one hand on the alligator’s head. “I think we should just kill her. Public safety menace.”

I didn’t kill defenseless things, other than the blow-up bed Ari kept in her office, and that was not my fault. “Leave it for next year. Grimm will understand. Please?”

“I doubt—” Liam looked into my eyes and then turned away, shaking his head. “I guess two is enough for one day. Come on. We’ve got a three-mile trek to the out-drain.”

•   •   •

We grabbed Liam’s clothes from the mouth of the storm drain then went back to the Agency, because there was no way in hell I wanted that crap on my floor. On the weekends, Grimm had the alarms active, which meant the front door was off-limits, but my aim was the janitor’s closet. There, a mop sink stood in for a shower.

I checked, and now the tattoo spread clean to the middle of my bicep. Where previously it looked like a bruise, as it spread out, it twisted into patterns that more than anything resembled chains. Though my fear of being enslaved made it near impossible to think, I decided to take comfort in the one person who would always give it to me. I went back in my office with Liam to examine the tuning fork.

“This thing removes magic,” I said. “At least I think it does.” I gave it a test tap. In response, the horrible tattoo pooled into puddles of dark ink, retracting down my arm. “Now what?”

Liam unscrunched his face and winced. “That thing really bugs me. Maybe we could make an incision, and let the ink drain?”

I’d suffered worse, but the thought of having open wounds made me queasy. Particularly considering where my job often led, infection ranked higher than fairy tales on my day-to-day worry list. “I’ve got an idea. This is fae ink, right?”

Liam shrugged. “I guess. I’ve only seen them once. Their tattoos don’t look like mine.”

“You aren’t made of pure magic. The point is, this stuff’s got to be expensive. I wonder if the tattoo parlor knows how to remove it. Maybe so they can get their ink back?” I glanced at my phone, looking for the number of the Soul Ink shop.

“That would be unsanitary.”

I nodded. “That tattoo parlor makes Froni’s look clean.” Froni’s was Liam’s favorite place to eat. Technically a restaurant, in that people could eat there. By those standards, the garbage dump was also a restaurant, and probably cleaner than Froni’s.

“Won’t hurt to ask. Not the first time people have changed their mind about getting a little ink.” Liam rose and left to get dressed.

As I punched the address into my phone, every phone in the Agency rang.

I held my breath until the ringing stopped.

Then my phone rang, and only my phone. Which should have been impossible. If Rosa didn’t transfer someone, the call didn’t go through. Rosa acted as a human firewall for the Agency, which was fitting, since she acted like I ought to be burned at the stake.

After a moment, my desk phone stopped ringing.

And my cell started. I clicked the Answer button. “Hello?”

“Marissa Locks, partner of the Fairy Godfather?” The woman’s voice on the other end held a tint of Middle Eastern accent.

“Yes. How did you get this number?”

She gave a presumptuous sigh, as if the answer were obvious. “You might say I had it on file. Your Fairy Godfather is unavailable to fulfill his obligations.”

Obligations. Probably Grimm’s contract holder. “The Fairy Godfather will be back Monday. You can leave a message with me. I’ll pass it on.”

“Very funny, Ms. Locks. The realm boundaries have been breached again, in twelve different locations. I’m afraid some of our wildlife may have accidentally made their way to your realm.”

I made a note to demand another pay raise. “More cherubs?”

“Oh?” The note of curiosity in her voice aggravated me. “Is that what you call the eaters? How quaint.”

“It’s only quaint because they didn’t pull your hair out. I’d be happy to help, but—”

“Happy has nothing to do with it. The Fairy Godfather owes us this service. Since he’s currently unavailable, as his partner, his debts and duties fall on you.” Her voice carried no threat, only the cold, calm promise of retribution if I refused.

“And Haniel? What the hell am I supposed to do about him? Ari— My assistant got an eyeful of him and still can’t see straight.”

“Haniel is not—” It wasn’t that the line went dead. It was that all sound
ceased
. Like I’d been cut out of the world. When the voice returned, so did the hum of air-conditioning. “You will deal with the eaters. You may choose to rescue humans at your own peril. Do I make your obligations clear?”

I didn’t care a great deal about what terms Grimm had signed. Cherubs and people didn’t mix. “I need addresses in English. And what exactly was an archangel doing on earth?”

The wood of my desk began to smoke, and letters burned into the surface, set in pure gold, which cooled from molten red to shining gold.

“Got it. And the angel?”

“Ask again, Marissa Lambert Locks, and contract or no contract, I will judge you myself.” The line went dead.

The janitor closet door slammed, and Liam came whistling back down the hallway. “Something smells great. Did you set your desk on fire?”

I pointed to the addresses. “I think we should pick up Ari and go for a stroll.”

“Might as well. The water just went out here. Main must have broken.” Liam buttoned on another flannel shirt, which he wore rain or shine, summer or winter. From outside the building, sirens began to wail. Which wasn’t all that uncommon within ten blocks of the Agency. Grimm considered himself rougher than the entire neighborhood.

I walked to the window at the back of our office. We didn’t have one until a few years ago, when a troll installed it by punching through the wall. Below me, the asphalt lay in jumbles, with water gushing everywhere, as though the street itself had risen.

Not the street. “I rang that fork. You don’t think—”

Liam put one hand on mine. “All large reptiles can sense vibrations way above or below what we can feel. I’m going to go wrap that tuning fork in a towel and lock it in one of Grimm’s boxes.”

Grimm kept a wall of magic artifacts handy for preventing or causing disasters.

“Is the alligator still here?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell. But then again, that’s how they get you.”

When we dropped by the apartment, I interrupted yet another shopping expedition. Online, that is. Ari had a thing for Internet sales, being personally responsible for the success of several dot-com ventures.

I ignored the guilty look as she slammed the laptop shut. “Hey, sleepyhead. You up for a turkey hunt?”

“I don’t know, Marissa. Today’s supposed to be a day off.”

“Well, consider this a special engagement. You want to introduce me to the hottie you were looking at?” I glanced at the laptop.

“He’s not—it’s not—ooh, Marissa.” Ari’s face turned red and her mouth pulled down into a frown. Such cute temper tantrums didn’t serve to earn her respect. All they did was make her hair—

“Hey. What happened to your hair?” I stomped across the room to grab a strand before she could make an excuse.

“Nothing.”

“Really?” I put my hands on my hips and fixed her with my boss stare. Then tried the big-sister stare, which I figured had to be the beginning of a good boss stare. “Last night you looked like a strawberry blond Labrador with mange. Now—”

Ari yanked her hair from my fingers, turning an even deeper shade of red. Which matched the shade of her hair. She’d always been blond with red hints. Strawberry blond in the same way a woman with one smashed strawberry in her hair looked. Now her locks fell in dark red ringlets.

“Did you use some sort of potion?”

“No.” She wouldn’t look at me. “It’s not the first time this has happened. You remember the night we found out about my father?” Ari’s father had died a year earlier, at what couldn’t possibly be called a comfortable old age. While I couldn’t prove it, I suspected Ari’s stepmother had a hand in it. I nodded in reply.

“It changed three times that day. I was sure you would notice.”

I surveyed the situation and made one of my patented snap decisions. “Come on. Liam’s downstairs and we’ve got work to do.”

“So you don’t mind my hair changing?”

“That’s what I like to call a first-world problem. You get a free dye job at random intervals and even if you butcher it, the stuff still grows back overnight.” I opened the door. “Compared to everything else wrong with the world, your bad hair day is chump change.”

Ari fumed her way through her morning ritual, yanking her hair every which way and succeeding only in making it stand out farther from her head. When we finally left the building, we found Liam basking in the sun outside, soaking up the heat. He nodded to Ari. “Ready for something awful?”

“Oh, please,” said Ari. “That’s every day in this job. Did Marissa tell you about the cherubs?”

“She might have forgotten about that part. Do I bash them, burn them, or eat them?”

“This time around we make Ari do what Grimm wanted the first time around,” I said.

“Gotcha,” said Liam. “In that case, what do you need me for?”

I hooked my arm around his and set out. “Oh, I just like having you around.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He led the way to the first address.

Unlike the previous infections, this address led to an apartment, specifically to an apartment twenty stories up. The building doorman gave us the evil eye and thought about denying us entry, but a smile and “please” from Ari worked better than a bribe.

Ari and I took the stairs. Liam took the elevator. We beat him by eleven seconds and worked off breakfast to boot. As we approached the door, the soft strains of celestial music filtered out. They tugged at my consciousness, making me want to lay down and rest more than anything.

And now we had a problem.

Without Grimm to veil my visions, I couldn’t risk barging straight in. So I put that damned tattoo to use, punching the door until the frame splintered and it swung open. With the ocean of pain exploding up and down my arm, the inside of the apartment couldn’t lay a
geis
on me. A clot of cherubs lounged on the couch, flapping their white wings lazily.

I turned away from the door and stepped to the side. “All right. Time for some princess power.”

Ari’s lip curled up in a snarl. She hated her title. Most days she hated being reminded of the perks that came with it. Today, however, it was going to come in handy. “What do you have in mind?”

“Lure them out one by one. Liam, I don’t care what you see come floating out, I want it bashed.” I nodded to Ari. “Go. I’ll keep a hold on you so you don’t get lured in.” My arm reached out of its own accord, but this time it headed for her throat instead of her shoulder.

Ari wiped the glare off her face and engaged her smile, which had reality-altering properties. I mean, it really did. The seal bearers cared for their seals, and in return, the universe bent over backwards to make their lives easier. Even my murderous tattoo fell under her charm, turning what started out as a choke hold into a shoulder rub.

Ari sang out in a high-pitched voice, “Come here. Oh, you’re such a cutie! Come over here and give me a great big hug.” She took one step forward, but I yanked her back. Gently, that is.

A cherub floated lazily out the door, his mouth gaping open, but before he could take a bite out of Ari, Liam seized it by the feet, then swung it straight down, smashing it into the carpet. It went limp, and mana drooled from its mouth.

Liam stopped to look at the chubby baby face and swore. “Holy—”

“Shush,” I said. “Get the next one.”

One by one, we repeated our trick. With each one, Liam grew more comfortable, developing his technique so the cherubs were dead before they knew what hit them. When the last one died, the charms of Paradisia drained away.

“You could have warned me,” said Liam. “You should have warned me.”

I pointed to the third one. “You see that? That’s the shoe it was eating.”

He nodded.

“There’s still a foot inside. These things are flying garbage disposals. You do not want them left flapping around.” I ducked inside and surveyed the situation. While the kitchen counters had grown soft, fluffy granite, and the floor transmuted to shining marble, it was the pool of blood and torn clothing that made me worry most.

I stepped out and pulled the door shut as best I could. “There’s nothing left here, human or otherwise. I’m not going to burn down the building just to clean out one apartment. Let’s head on to the next one.”

We did, walking a few blocks to the next address.

And there, a familiar scene played out. Ari luring cherubs. Liam killing them. Me trying to make sense of the mess inside. In this one, the remains of a body lay where the cherubs had picked at it, but so little remained I couldn’t tell if the victim had been a man or woman.

At the third apartment, we found what had definitely been an older woman. The cherubs were still devouring her arms when we arrived, and honestly, were so engrossed in their meal Ari had trouble distracting them.

I had no one to save, but I did have a sneaking suspicion. A feeling that grew on me with every step. I took the list of addresses and jumped to the bottom. “This one. We’re heading here next.”

“That’s halfway across . . .” Liam’s voice trailed off as he watched my expression. I was going to get the boss stare down if it killed me. Angry Girlfriend and Big Sister mixed together seemed to do the trick; though with Liam, Angry Girlfriend was usually more than enough.

I pulled up my phone and figured out the most direct route to the last address. “I can’t help but feel we’re being used to mop up. We can go back and do pest control later.”

We took a cab, which was only marginally better than walking, and then Ari and I ran. I’d say Liam ran, but his run ended so quickly it might as well not have begun. While the boundaries of the boyfriend/girlfriend relationship weren’t entirely clear, I made a mental note: Motivate Liam to run with me.

See, Ari and I did daily cardio and long-distance training. I had a gun with real bullets. I had a best friend with real magic. But much of the time, the best thing to do was be off like a shot and keep running. Most of the beasts I encountered were in bad shape, and most of the people, worse. So running wasn’t just an exercise thing. In the Agency business, running was what we called a life skill, as in “it might save my life.”

Ari and I arrived at the last address, a whole-floor penthouse in a neighborhood way out of my price range. We took the stairs to the top floor, where I prepared to do my best bash-the-door-open impression.

But the door wasn’t locked. I threw it open right as Ari grabbed me by the hair. She yanked me to the ground in a cursing heap. Three cherubs sailed into the wall. They beat feathered wings in a rush, squealing, and flew straight through the window at the end of the hall. One bounced off the window and fell to the ground, neck broken. The second shattered the window and gashed itself on the shards of glass. The last flew off, leaving bloody feathers on the window edges.

“That’s not good,” said Ari.

I nodded. The cherubs in the first church had clung to the ceiling. I’d figured it was to be closer to heaven, but now, I wondered if they weren’t frightened of something else.

Inside, the remains of Paradisia bubbled, but the atmosphere had shifted. It no longer held strains of music, but echoes of screams . . . and voices. The unholy attraction of Paradisia shifted to a cold queasiness in the depths of my stomach. But I didn’t get paid to get queasy. With Ari at my back, I eased my way into the apartment. This time I had my gun ready.

Haniel stood in the center of a spacious living room. At his feet, an elderly man with silver hair knelt. And beside him hunkered a creature which could only be the product of psychosis combined with fever dreams. If you started with a person, then pinched down the joints to wasp legs, and stretched the face and ears outward, that would be a good start. We won’t go into the gelatinous red slime bubbling on its skin, or the way its eyes seemed to burn with all the fire in Inferno.

Haniel glanced our way as the door opened, and smiled.

Which was the first point where I noticed the black fumes drifting around him. Like cigar smoke combined with octopus ink, it swirled around him, never quite settling.

“Well, if it isn’t the human and her pet,” said Haniel. “I was planning to hunt you down for disrupting what should have been my crowning moment, but now, I have a better idea.”

“Master.” The old man looked up and nearly whispered, “I beg this honor of you.”

“Yes,” said Haniel. “You do. These women, they want to save you from me. Do you want them to?”

For a moment, the man’s gaze flicked to us, and a look of ethereal horror stole across his face. “No, my master. I wish only to serve.”

“Then it is done,” said the demon. I hadn’t seen one before, but I couldn’t mistake it for anything else.

Ari sucked in magic from around me, rattling the windows and shaking the walls as she gathered a spell. With a forceful scream, she unleashed it, a rainbow burst of light that—showered the room in daisies. Ari looked at the flowers, then to her fingers. “Damn it.”

“We’re working on that,” said Haniel. “Draklor, would you be so kind as to remove the uninvited guests?”

“Once we’re done,” said the demon. “It would be a privilege.”

Ari wound up again and this time, snow blasted from her hands.

It blew across the room in a blizzard, and deflected from a bubble around the angel.

“You cannot interfere with a mortal’s decision,” said Haniel. “He has chosen well.” And with that, the archangel of grace ripped the man’s head from his body. “Your soul is my final price.”

The demon Draklor placed both hands over the man’s head, and a cloud of noxious smoke burst out. When it cleared, only the skull remained. Its eye sockets flickered red.

“You girls have got to learn to wait . . .” Liam’s voice trailed off as he stepped into the apartment. He looked at the angel, the demon, and the corpse, then to me. “This doesn’t look good. Is it good?”

“No,” said Ari. “I don’t think it is.”

Haniel ignored Liam entirely, his gaze drifting from me to Ari. “I offer you a choice as well. Die here, or bear witness to my ascendency. Which will it be?”

Ari seized a sculpture from the table nearby and heaved it at him. She missed and obliterated the flatscreen TV behind Haniel. “I’m not planning to die any time soon.”

“Then I accept your decision,” said Haniel. “You will come to the midnight chapel, then, tomorrow. Unless you’re already dead.” The music of Paradisia swelled, and the archangel swelled with light, blinding me for an instant. When I blinked it away, only the demon remained. It smiled, an act which split its head all the way to the back.

And the red slime covering it caught fire. “You are unworthy to observe his glory, mortals. Burn in the flames of agony.” It took a step toward me.

And Liam took a step toward it.

Part of the whole dragon curse thing was that he never needed to worry about getting sunburned again. By that, I meant whether he was out in the sun, or on the surface of the sun, fire just didn’t harm him. If it had been me, I’d have used the element of surprise to get in a few blows.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, was hobbled by an unquenchable sense of fairness. He held up his hands, palms out. “That’s some nice fire you’ve got going there. What, two, three thousand degrees?”

Draklor curled off a small ball of fire and tossed it under hand.

“Oh, I get it! This is catch!” Liam caught it and tossed it back. “We can play this if you want. I could get a stick if you want to play fetch.”

While the demon studied its palms, Liam shot me a glance. “Get out of here before tall, dark, and ugly decides to preheat this place to three thousand degrees.”

“But—” I started to protest but found myself on the receiving end of a boss stare.

“M, let Liam play with fire,” said Ari, pulling me by the hand. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

With some trepidation, I let her lead me out of the apartment. Liam was a big boy, right? And though I hadn’t meant to curse him, being immune to fire meant he had a leg, arm, and scaly tail up on the rest of us.

“That’s hellfire too,” said Liam. His voice carried into the hall, a deep bass I loved to hear. “Which we’ve already established I’m immune to. No, no, that’s just
more
hellfire. Can we assume anything that comes out of your hands is probably also hellfire?”