Nightmare Ink (15 page)

Gus jumped up and stretched out beside her, half on, half off of her. He rested his chin on her shoulder. Ikylla joined them, foregoing drying her fur in favor of curling up on Isa’s stomach, her back against Gus.

Nathalie came back, a plate of sandwiches in hand.

The food restored Isa. She’d been running on empty, and she surprised them all by eating an entire sandwich piled high with roast beef and chicken. Even if Steve had to feed it to her a bite at a time.

Murmur stirred as if the food had restored a measure of his strength, too.

Not good. If he gained more strength than she did, he’d escape. And kill her in the process. How much stronger did he have to be to do that?

Nat picked at her sandwich. Halfway through nibbling a piece of bread crust, she froze. The blood drained from her face.

“Uh-oh,” she breathed. In a whirl, she dropped her sandwich and her plate, and raced for the bathroom.

Isa heard the unmistakable
clunk
of hard plastic hitting cold porcelain and then the sound of Nathalie emptying her guts into the toilet.

Symptom of Infernal slime poisoning,
the tattoo volunteered.

“Steve, that thing scratched Nathalie,” she said in a rush. “Murmur thinks she may have been poisoned by it.”

Steve rose, frowning. “Murmur?”

“The tattoo. “

“The tattoo thinks?”

“Could we focus on the poison part and help Nathalie?” she shrilled.

The front door opened. Steve’s officer, Jackie Pattaja, led Ikylla’s vet into the apartment.

Gus slapped his tail against the back of the sofa, but didn’t shift an ounce of weight. The cat didn’t even swivel an ear at the newcomers. Not at all usual for Isa’s vigilant feline. Isa’s breath went shallow.

Ikylla’d been covered in slime and had her fangs buried in the Infernal’s throat.

Nathalie retched again.

“Thanks for coming out, Doctor. Your patient is on the sofa,” Steve said, heading for the bedroom. He nodded at Officer Pattaja. “Come on, Jackie. We may have a medical emergency developing.”

As Nathalie groaned into the echo chamber of the toilet, the officer, and the veterinarian grimaced. Jackie followed Steve into the bedroom.

The vet, a cheerful fireplug of a woman with gray hair that stood out in a halo around her head, carried a leather satchel over one shoulder and what looked like a beat-up canvas tool bag in her other hand. She set her things down beside the scarred oak coffee table and scooped Ikylla from Isa’s stomach.

Ikylla put up no fight when the woman settled her on the coffee table and reached for a stethoscope.

Gus sat up watching every move the vet made.

Isa shifted to sitting, hands hanging useless and fear making the sandwich weigh heavy in her stomach.

A pale, tight-lipped Steve stalked out of the bedroom. He met her gaze for a split second before he looked away and marched out the front door.

Isa wrapped her arms around her chest.

“Ikylla has indeed ripped out a claw,” the vet said. “She also has a fever. How long has she been lethargic?”

“Since she killed the thing.”

Steve came back in. “Nat’s pretty sick. The scratch looks like hell. She won’t let us call an ambulance. We have a house call doctor en route.”

The vet frowned and looked over her shoulder. “Mind if I have a look at the animal that caused all this trouble? I may need to report this to the state.”

“Please do,” Steve said. “I’d be relieved to have you identify it for us. The only other option is that I have someone breaking every Acts of Magic law on the books without being detected. I’ll have someone take you down when you’re ready.”

Steve clearly didn’t want to believe what Isa had said about the Infernal.

Murmur curled her lips in derision.

She shook her head as the veterinarian set up a bag of fluids, lifted the skin at the back of Ikylla’s neck and inserted the needle. Ikylla hissed, but didn’t otherwise move.

Isa wiped cold moisture from her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“Subcutaneous fluids,” the vet said, glancing at Isa. “I’ll give her a dose of long-acting antibiotics and some nausea meds. I’m betting on a protein-based venom, like a spider bite. We don’t see many cases in Seattle, but on the other side of the mountains, cats sometimes tangle with black widows and end up envenomed. The symptoms are similar, so I’m starting there.”

“When we’re finished here, I’ll get some samples from the animal that did this to a local lab,” the woman said. “If I’m wrong or if there’s further treatment necessary, I’ll call immediately. But I do think Ikylla will be just fine. Your friend may have a rougher recovery. Humans aren’t as resistant to protein-based poisons as cats, but once the doctor gets here, your friend should be okay, too.”

Worry dissolved, weeping relief into Isa’s veins.

Murmur pressed hard against her spine, retreating from the weight of unshed tears.

Neither the veterinarian nor the doctor who came to treat Nathalie could identify the Infernal.

They agreed on protein-based venom, however, and Nathalie ended up being treated very much like Ikylla had. A shot of antinausea meds, a short course of antibiotics, and strict instructions to report to a hospital ER if her symptoms didn’t improve.

The house call doctor wrapped Isa’s hands for her before departing.

Steve came back from seeing the doctors off. The muscles in his jaw rigid, he studied Isa for several seconds. “What does Daniel gain by sending something like that creature?”

Isa shook her head. “Don’t know. He isn’t the man I thought I knew.”

It was a message,
Murmur said through her mouth. ‘
I know where you are. Escape is an illusion.’

Her diaphragm kicked.

“If all he wanted was to score a psychological hit, the flowers would have done the job,” she answered aloud. “The Infernal was more than that. It was aimed at you, wasn’t it?”

I will not be his obedient hound,
Murmur snarled inside her head.

That sounded good.

I’ll destroy you in my time,
he said aloud.
Not his.

Steve glared at her throat, where Murmur’s emerald eye gleamed. “You can’t have her.”

Murmur laughed. Isa clenched her teeth to prevent him from doing it in Steve’s face.

“Look, Nathalie and Ikylla are resting comfortably. It’s two
AM
,” Steve said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Don’t you think it’s time you got some sleep? I’ve got the watch.”

She’d returned to her nest of pillows and blankets so the vet could put Ikylla in her arms. Her brown tabby and white girl snored softly on Isa’s chest.

Isa closed her eyes.

Let go. Slip away. Surrender.

“Give it a rest, Mr. Mesmero.”

Steve’s footsteps came close. Calloused fingers smoothed her hair from her face. Sensation tingled in the wake of that caress.

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer again,” Steve said. Warm lips pressed against her forehead—the one part of her not marked. The one part of her that still belonged wholly to her. Could she say that with the demon inside as well as etched on her skin?

Nightmares ambushed her the moment she succumbed to sleep. She stood in Nightmare Ink’s doorway. Zoog lay dead and skinned on the floor. Except that in her Ink-tainted nightmare, he rose, tears of pain and accusation flowing down the exposed muscle and bone of his face. He reached raw fingers for her.

Murmur held her under the surface of sleep. She battered her bruised mind against the black lid he used to trap her. In her dreams, she ran from Zoog’s animated corpse straight into Daniel’s prison. The ring of the metal door slamming shut rolled around her skull, matched by the wail the Ink refused to let her voice.

Fangs pressing gently into her chin finally coaxed her free.

She woke to the gray light of dawn in the window and Ikylla holding her chin in a love bite while she purred.

She let go.

“Hungry?” Isa whispered at her.

The cat leaped to the back of the sofa, still purring and kneading her paws.

Gus lifted his head and perked his ears. Isa sat up. Steve slept in her beat-up tan recliner. When Gus hopped down and shook, tags ringing, Steve’s eyes opened.

“Hey,” he rasped. He righted the recliner with a thump, yawning.

“They’re hungry.”

“Good sign,” Steve said. “Let me check on Nat. Then I’ll feed them if you’ll also let me make coffee.”

He made breakfast, too. Soup for Nathalie, eggs and toast for them. He walked Gus and scooped Ikylla’s litter box.

The Ink snickered every time Isa chafed at being useless.

She had to do something about her hands. Murmur’s magic had healed everything but her hands when she’d been in the ER. Based on that, she should be able to heal her hands with magic. Right?

Murmur raised one of her eyebrows.

“I have to get to the precinct,” Steve finally said. “Troy’s on his way. Since we have yet to recover your belongings, I’ll bring you a new cell phone when I come back this afternoon. Don’t open the door to any more flowers.”

“Thanks.”

He locked up behind him.

Isa went to the bedroom.

“Hey,” Nathalie said. She sounded hoarse. “How’s Ikylla?”

Favoring one paw, the cat came when Isa called and jumped onto the bed. She head-butted the hand Nathalie held out to her. Nathalie smiled.

“You okay?” Isa asked. “I want to go to the shop for a few minutes.”

“Better than okay,” Nathalie said, levering herself to sitting. “I want to go with you. I am so bored. Look. I can stand. I’ve had two bowls of soup and kept them down.”

“If you want to go,” Isa said, “you’re well enough as far as I’m concerned. But I know a bunch of people who’ll be really put out if you kill yourself falling down the stairs.”

Having Nathalie with her worked in Isa’s favor. She insisted on brushing the snarls from Isa’s hair so she wouldn’t go out in public looking like she’d just walked out of Daniel’s prison.

She led the way out of the apartment.

Troy met them on the stairs. He grinned, reversed course, and unlocked the shop.

The window had been replaced. Not a single shard of shattered glass remained. Why couldn’t Isa get the image of crushed, bloodstained glass out of her head? The oak reception desk was gone, carted away, she assumed, as evidence in Zoog’s murder investigation. A new counter of galvanized steel and thick, polished glass, lit to look like rippling water stood in its place.

“Like it?” Troy asked as she studied it.

“Cheri built that?”

“She did.”

“It’s stunning,” Isa said. “What the hell is it doing here, where I can’t afford to pay her its worth?”

“She did it because she wanted to do it, Ice,” Troy said. “She couldn’t help us look for you because of the boy. She could do this.”

Murmur lifted one of her eyebrows. Amused condescension trickled through her.

She slumped. Was she being insensitive to everyone else’s feelings? How telling was it that a demon had better emotional intelligence than she did?

“Thank her for me,” Isa managed. “Can I post her business card?”

Troy nodded, a faint smile on his face. “That would be great.”

“Least I can do,” she said. Except it wasn’t the only thing she could—or should—do. The Infernal attack and Murmur’s reaction to it made it clear what had to happen.

Nathalie and Ikylla had been hurt because of her. Either one or both of them could have been killed. She didn’t understand why, but by virtue of having Murmur on board, Isa knew Daniel wouldn’t stop until he’d destroyed her. Her tattoo intended to play the same game.

The worst part in having him in residence was that he experienced every shudder of her heart at the thought of anyone she cared about being hurt. More than Nathalie and Ikylla already had been. He wasn’t above using that in his quest to get what he wanted.

Daniel’s smug assurance that he had her cornered scared her, sure. It also enraged her. But Murmur’s passionless calculation as he examined Troy and Nathalie through her eyes made her blood run cold. She owed it to them to protect them the only way she could.

“I need to ask the two of you for one last favor,” she said.

Nathalie, wrapped in a green leaf-print fleece blanket, plopped down into the desk chair.

“Sure,” Troy said. “What’s up?”

“Would you take Nathalie home?”

“Wait,” Nathalie protested.

“Take Gus and Ikylla with you.” Isa’s voice broke. Pain stabbed through her chest, resolving into a burn in her eyes. She gasped at the sting.

“We’re back to this? What are you doing, Ice?” Troy rumbled.

“I’m closing the shop and leaving.”

“Why?” Nathalie demanded.

“You can’t run from what’s happened,” Troy said. “Not when you carry the marks with you.”

“And I don’t need the constant reminders everyone and everything in this city represents!” she said.

Murmur twitched. Vile anticipation curled through her gut.

“Why are you doing this?” Nathalie said.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to shove everyone away? Me? Troy? You’re abandoning me! Us. Just like everyone else ever has!”

“What? No! Damn it. This has nothing to do with you.”

“My folks tossed me out because I’m gay. Why should you be any different?” Nathalie smeared moisture from her face.

“They did? Jesus.”

“Hey, you okay?” Nathalie asked, peering at Isa with watery eyes. “You look like melted candle wax.”

She asked that when she thought Isa wanted to toss her out like trash because of who Nathalie slept with? Why hadn’t it occurred to Isa that someone else might have been thrown out of a family?

“I’m sorry,” Isa said.
God, that was weak
.

“Thanks.” Nathalie stared at her hands clasped between her knees. “I know this isn’t about my sexuality, Ice. Intellectually, I mean. I get that you think you’re trying to protect us, right? Well, I have abandonment issues. So stop it. And thanks for not calling my parents names.”

“I am. Internally. Really despicable ones.”

Troy snorted.

Nathalie giggled, meeting Isa’s gaze. It was like watching water tremble on the brim of a too-full glass. “They can’t help what they are.”

Isa grunted, hoping Nat would accept the noncommittal response.

“You think I’m making excuses for them.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It’s what my therapist said. Everyone expects me to hate them.”

“Hate is a waste,” Isa said. “It destroys you and robs you of power.”

“See? That’s what I think! So why, Ice? Why are you pushing everyone away? I don’t get it.”

Isa turned her head to expose the tattoo’s gleaming emerald eye, his fangs buried in her jugular, and the single ruby drop of blood dripping from that bite.

Nathalie’s brows lowered. “Him.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“You’re fighting him,” Troy said.

“One lapse,” Isa countered, “one single slip on my part, and he’ll hurt someone. You, if you’re here. And we’ve had graphic proof that being around me is dangerous.”

Murmur listened hard. She couldn’t say exactly what she felt to know that, but he also held perfectly, painfully still. Waiting for that lapse so he could pounce? Or waiting for the other shoe to drop? Too bad she didn’t have one. She’d give anything to be armed against him.

“He’ll hurt you if we’re not here!” Nathalie protested.

“I can stand that,” she said. “Not you. Not Gus. Not Ikylla. Not—”

“Not anyone you consider family,” Nat finished for her.

Troy nodded once when Isa gaped at him.

Was it true? Had she inadvertently built a surrogate family? Was she really playing out the same pattern for a third time? Hadn’t she learned anything from destroying the family that had adopted her? Or from being bribed to leave the family she’d imagined she’d had in Triple J’s tattoo shop? She hadn’t done anything to destroy this family yet, but with Murmur etched on her skin and soul that was a matter of time.

You didn’t need my help the first two families.

“You don’t want to be my family,” she choked. “My track record . . . You have to get away from me. All of you.”

“We won’t,” Troy said.

“You can’t make us,” pale, shaking Nathalie agreed.

Isa snorted. “A strong breeze would take you out. And this thing is already plotting horrific ways to hurt all of you so he can destroy me and take over my body.”

“Which would only work because you care about us,” Nathalie noted.

Isa threw her useless hands wide. “Yes. Fine. You caught me. Now get away so I know you’ll be safe!”

“Nothing doing,” Troy said. “Seems to me that if we go, we make it easy for you to give up, to not have any reason to fight him.”

Murmur laughed with her voice. She could no longer stop him.

Nathalie grimaced.

Troy crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, the picture of nonchalance. “What do you think of repainting the entry wall, Ice? I know a kid with a real gift for tagging. Almost as good as Zoog was. Let me put down a slate base coat. He’d do the job just to have his name in the shop.”

“She’s afraid I’ll orphan that baby of yours,” Murmur said with Isa’s voice.

“There are no guarantees in life, man,” Troy said, meeting her gaze. His features tightened.

She guessed he saw her struggling to pry control of her vocal chords from Murmur’s grasp.

“You son of a bitch,” she gasped when she mentally peeled the last tendril of Ink from her voice. “I’ll destroy you myself before you’ll hurt anyone.”

With what
? Murmur shot.

Her hands throbbed. She gritted her teeth and stomped toward the basement door.

“Ice,” Troy said. “You strong enough to do a bind?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m going downstairs to see if I can heal up enough to do a bind if it comes to that. It’s what I came for before . . .”

“Before we wouldn’t let you put on a martyr complex and run for the hills?” he finished for her.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Not your job, darlin’, but thanks.”

Isa sighed. “Would you open the door, please?”

Silence for several long seconds while she stared at the peeling music posters plastered all over the basement door.

Murmur lingered, taking lazy sips of her sensory input, all without comment, just a sense of curiosity, as if he’d pulled up a chair and a box of popcorn on the fifth of July to see whether there’d be any fireworks that night, too.

Isa heard a desk drawer slide open. Keys jingled. Heavy, combat-booted footsteps shook the floorboards as Troy approached. He unlocked the door and opened it without a word. When she started down the steps, he followed.

“The door to the magic microwave is heavy,” he said when she glanced over her shoulder at him. “We need you, Ice. Me and Nat, we could find other gigs, but we don’t want to, you know? Nightmare Ink is a part of us, too. Besides, anyone in this city wearing Live Ink that might go bad needs you right here.”

Troy opened the door to the studio and watched her turn on the lights.