Myst and Ink, Book 1

by HD Smith

  I looked back at the IV bag. The drip was slowing. The reduced-myst environment of the hospital room was shutting down some of the equipment—possibly saving my life.

  I chuckled at the irony just as another cold flash ran through me, causing my skin to raise with goosebumps.

  What the hell was happening? I might not be dying, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  I took a few deep breaths and forced myself to sit up, and this time I was able to prop myself on my elbows.

  Another cold wave hit me, and I closed my eyes and rested my chin on my chest. I didn’t want to fall back down, losing what small ground I’d made by propping up. After a beat I opened my eyes and was shocked to find a long strand of dark pink hair blocking my right eye.

  What. The. Hell?

  Had someone hit me with a novelty spell? How had I gone from short curly brown hair to long dark pink hair? And it wasn’t just any pink, it was royal pink—a rich magenta sometimes called Zar Pink.

  Had Susan9 done this? Had she infiltrated the hospital systems and—what—had me spelled to look like someone else, so I’d be hidden from Dr. Monroe and his evil sidekick Jeff?

  Even if that ridiculous ideas were possible, how would she have pulled it off? Dr. Monroe had specifically told the orderlies to notify Dr. Beverly—the same doctor who had been assigned to Miko when he was admitted to the hospital… and then died from a simple synth-h overdose.

  Another wave hit me, this time starting at my eyes and rolling out over my body. The intensity was decreasing, but it felt as though layers of a heavy material were being peeled away.

  The IV machine beeped. The drip from the bag of fluid had almost stopped, which meant a nurse would no doubt be here soon to check on me. Assuming I was even in the system.

  I blew the hair away from my face. I couldn’t worry about the implications of my new look just yet. I had to get out of the bed; then I’d worry about what I could do to hide my completely impossible hair from the world.

  I saw a flash of dark skin curl around my wrist before disappearing into my flesh.

  “What the fuck?” I said, as another small wave of cold hit me.

  As I watched, more dark patches emerged, forming patterns and symbols over my arm. With a closer look I could see that the dark shapes were similar to Mage Ink’s temp tattoos, nothing like the rich warm hues of humans with naturally darker skin. These patches were a dark gray to black, with no warmth to the color at all. They had to be spells; but why would someone spell me? And why were they appearing and disappearing? Was this what was keeping me alive?

  My body began to tremble as a flash of heat enveloped me, fighting with the cold waves that had been rippling over my body.

  A blue arc of electricity rose from the skin on my arm, connecting between two morphing tattoos. With a loud pop, the table lamp beside my bed shorted out. The vid-feed switched to static and then changed channels as a loud burst of sound roared then silenced itself again.

  An infomercial was showing a new brand of temp tattoos from a company attempting to compete with Mage Ink. Six tats popped up on the screen, and a heading over them read “Espionage Detective.”

  Each tat enlarged for a split second, and a graphic flashed with illuminated detail to show the intricate nature of the spells. My eyes fixated on the screen as the six images flooded my mind. A series of icons displayed like an overlay on my vision. As if I had a Visual Field.

  The spell icons were: zoom, super smell, night vision, unlock, lock, and eavesdropping.

  The first icon flashed, blinking as if searching, and three results displayed. Holy Lucy, I somehow had a VF.

  [Zoom:

  : New, Basic Reject: [Yes/No]

  : Existing, House Spell

  : Existing, Generic]

  “Yes,” I said, to reject the basic zoom spell.

  I wanted to clap as the first spell disappeared. This was the first time I’d used a VF interface. Technology I shouldn’t be able to have, but as with the imbedded data core and pink hair, there was a lot about me I didn’t know.

  Instinctively I wanted to reach out and touch one of the two remaining spells. Instead, moving my arm threw me off balance and I fell back onto the bed.

  The Visual Field over my eyes fell with me, causing me to become disoriented for a second. I was going to have to get used to this. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again.

  The displayed spells still called to me, but my hands were tethered to the rail. Maybe I didn’t need my hands. Magic wasn’t mechanical. I didn’t need special hand gestures to cast a spell, right?

  Mentally I imagined touching the spell. It glowed for a split second, then a light pressure ran across my arm. I looked down and saw the spell appear as if I’d applied a temp tattoo.

  What the Lucy had just happened? Had I just generated my own magical tat? Was that what Live Ink was designed to do?

  It was supposed to allow a user to generate temporary tattoos on demand, which was what happened. But how? It was like my VF, which I’d no idea I had until the spells popped up, was somehow integrated with the Live Ink tech. Which was impossible, right?

  As all these thoughts were running around in my head, the spell activated. My vision zoomed in, like I’d magnified the view before me. I’d been looking at my arm, and my vision was now filled with all the intricate details, swirls, and dots that made the glyph into a spell. I strained my eyes to see more. The spell zoomed again, this time bringing the skin cells on my arm into nightmarish clarity.

  Whoa, I closed my eyes tight, willing them to clear. I felt another whisper touch on my arm where the spell had been, and the muscles behind my eyes relaxed. Was that what a House spell was like? The intensity was incredible. But whose House? My parents were Wanderers; they wouldn’t have had House spells. Of course, there had also been a generic spell, and the new spell had been labeled basic. Maybe House spell meant it was an elite level spell?

  When I opened my eyes, my vision was back to normal and the tattoo was gone.

  The second spell I’d scanned from the infomercial started flashing. The process repeated with a new search. This time no existing spell was found. In short order, super smell was automatically added to my spell library, appeared on my arm, and proceeded to turn the room into a cacophony of disinfectant smells that had me wishing I could shut down my nose.

  Unlike with zoom, I’d had no option to reject the spell. And the difference between the spell quality of ‘super smell’ and my zoom House spell was insane. The House spell had controls. Super smell was just a basic amplifier, and it sucked.

  It took me a minute, but I finally figured out how to release the spell. I thought of it like pushing the spell away.

  As it had before, the Live Ink disappeared, and my sense of smell returned to its normal level.

  The next spell, night vision, played out the same way. Like with zoom, I had another version and was able to reject the new one; unfortunately, I couldn’t prevent myself from activating one of my existing spells and almost blinded myself in the overly bright hospital room.

  The next two were the same, only I succeeded in unlocking and then relocking my handcuffs. I’d accepted my fate as the final spell, eavesdropping, started its cycle.

  This time my hearing was elevated by another House spell to an almost deafening level. I focused on my ears to alleviate the intensity. Taking deep breaths, I envisioned a dial and cranked it down. Soon the volume was manageable, which was when I heard the voices.

  “I want to know what happened,” a shrill female voice said.

  “Empress Cortez, I’m sorry you weren’t informed earlier. I had no idea you’d care to know,” a nervous female voice answered.

  “Dr. Randal, I can assure you, that is the last mistake you will make at my House.”

  Empress Cortez was the formal title of the House Cortez Head of House, Marissa Cortez. What the hell was she doing here?

  Someone snappe
d their fingers.

  Marissa raised her voice. “You there, Peacekeeper. Take Dr. Randal in for questioning. Have her explain why she administered silver to a woman with a silver allergy. One who had already been injured, potentially fatally, in an accident with a silver needle.”

  “Madam,” Dr. Randal said, “if you just review the surveillance—”

  “Do you think I’m a simpleton?” Marissa asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. “Peacekeeper, administer truth spells and question her about Miko Rosenblume as well.”

  “But madam,” Dr. Randal pleaded, “I was just doing my duty. The protocol requires—”

  “Silence,” Marissa yelled.

  Marissa must be talking about me, unless House Cortez had had the unlucky chance to almost kill two women with silver allergies today in an almost identical fashion.

  “Peacekeeper,” Marissa yelled, “take her away—now.”

  “Yes, madam,” another male voice answered.

  “Who is the next in line?” Marissa growled.

  A new male voice answered. “I am, madam. My name is Dr. Parker. I—“

  “I don’t care,” Marissa said. “I want to know how the hell a patient with no magical tolerance and a silver allergy blew up my hospital.”

  Did she just say I blew up the hospital? I thought back to the news of the explosion at Cortez Towers. It had happened on the 17th floor, but how the hell had I done that? I’d been dying of silver poisoning when I was brought in.

  But I hadn’t died. And regardless of what had been true before, I was no longer allergic to silver. I also had a VF I’d never known about, and Live Ink worked on me as if I were a high-level magic user.

  Had the poisoning or the injection or both unlocked something inside me? Had my powers been hidden, and the silver reaction ignited more than just my abilities? I had no memory of an explosion, but my body was doing things it shouldn’t be able to do. Maybe like the mythical phoenix, I’d somehow survived and literally been reborn in the flames.

  Dr. Parker’s stammering voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “Well, madam,” Dr. Parker said, “we… we believe it was the serum, but—”

  “Are you seriously telling me that my brother’s serum requires a T1-A10 with a silver allergy to be effective? And the end result is an explosion so intense that it’s a miracle more people didn’t die?”

  Did someone die?

  “Um—” Dr. Parker said, but Marissa continued.

  “And where the hell did her hair and eyes come from?”

  “Well—”

  What was wrong with my eyes? Lucy-damn-hell, were my irises now violet with gold flecks, like every Zar royal that had ever been photographed? How would I hide that? Colored contacts wouldn’t hide the distinctive pattern caused by the flecks. Even if they could, where the hell would I get them?

  “I find it hard to believe,” Marissa said, “that she’s the first subject we’ve used in nearly twenty-five years with this combination. And that the end result was a copycat Zar royal. Does that sound logical to you?”

  “Um, well—”

  “Don’t give me excuses. Find answers. I want her tested. A full work up. Send her genome out to be sequenced. Find a lab that can anonymously confirm her origin. Not Storm.”

  “But her age, madam… do you really think—”

  Marissa Cortez’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you questioning my orders?”

  “Absolutely not, Empress Cortez, but what if she refuses?”

  There was a moment of silence. Then Marissa spoke patiently, as if she were dealing with a child.

  “Dr. Parker, House Cortez isn’t in the habit of pandering to our workers. They are bought and sold by the hundreds. She will do as she is told, the same as they all do, or there will be consequences. She belongs to House Cortez. She does not have the luxury of making her own decisions.”

  “Is she under arrest?” Dr. Parker asked.

  Under arrest? What the hell for?

  Marissa laughed. “She is on permanent assignment to the research and development lab here at Cortez Towers. If she has activated Live Ink in her system, I want to see the results of on-demand spells documented. I want that patent secured and a new product for our company. If on the other hand, Live Ink is a weapon, it just means the war division gets the spoils.”

  Under arrest might have been better. At least then I would have had immediate access to a defense solicitor and could petition for a release from House Cortez. It sounded like Marissa had other plans, which could make it hard for me to seek asylum from another House.

  Marissa continued. “Ms. Harlow will remain with us. I’ll be damned if Harko Royale ever gets the benefit of my brother’s work. Do you understand the goal now?”

  “Yes, madam—Empress Cortez,” Dr. Parker said.

  It had been almost twenty-five years since Conor Cortez broke with his guild and returned to his House. Why would Byron Storm or Dalton Vance care about a failed patent from an old friend? Was Harko Royale still active?

  “Make no mistake, “Marissa said, “she will be closely guarded—protected—and, assuming she cooperates, unharmed. The person she was this morning is no more. Her hair and eyes will make her a target to any who see her. She will be exploited if allowed to transfer from our care; therefore, you will file the necessary paperwork to have her committed. She irrevocably belongs to us now. Do I make myself clear?”

  Hell-fucking-no. I wasn’t an invalid that needed to be cared for. I could make my own decisions, and while most of the working class didn’t try to leave their House, it was always an option. Dr. Parker couldn’t just keep me here. Transferring me to the R&D lab was just another job. He had no legitimate reason to commit me and force me to stay with House Cortez. I had to find a way out of this nightmare before their plan to protect me was initiated. Protect, right. Imprison was more accurate.

  “Yes, madam,” Dr. Parker said, bringing my attention back to their conversation.

  “She doesn’t leave this hospital,” Marissa said.

  I looked down at the copper cuffs. I had to get them off, then get the hell out of here.

  “Yes, madam,” Dr. Parker said. “But we’ve noticed anomalies in her bloodwork. And, of course, the hair and eyes are a concern.”

  Anomalies in my blood?

  What could they have found? Maybe Susan9 could retrieve copies of my records, or I could have tests run later. Unless the anomalies were going to kill me, they weren’t my biggest issue. The Zar pink hair, gold-flecked violet eyes, and leaving Cortez Towers were my immediate problems.

  I’d be a target the minute people got a look at me. Regardless of what my eyes looked like, it was dangerous to have hair this shade of pink. Even though there was no way in hell I was House Zar royalty, no one would care about the truth. They’d try to exploit me, and I’d wind up dead.

  Marissa’s response was clipped. “Do I look like a woman who wants to discuss your intermediary results?”

  “No, madam,” Dr. Parker said.

  “My brother was a Lucy-damn genius. He was also a damn fool, but nothing he ever created failed. She’s proof the serum works. Make sure the X86 study coordinates with the R&D lab. I want product proof and the root cause of why the study failed until now.”

  “Yes, madam. Will I have access to Dr. Monroe—”

  “Dr. Monroe is dead,” Marissa said. “Our Blue Angel of Death in there killed him.”

  Dr. Monroe was one of the dead. Marissa had said people died during the explosion. An explosion that somehow labeled me as the Blue Angel of Death?

  What the hell had happened during the explosion?

  “R-Right,” Dr. Parker stammered again. “I meant, can I have access to his lab results?”

  There was a moment of silence, then Dr. Parker spoke again.

  “Of course, obviously I can. I’ll just make a request to the help desk. Nothing for you to worry about, madam.”

  A shrill chirp sounded. It was a Link no
tification.

  “What now?” Marissa said, her voice distant as if she’d turned away. “What’s the problem?”

  There was no answer. She must be on her Link.

  A minute later Marissa said, “The specialty PKs are to arrive at the K12 lab tomorrow as scheduled. I’ll have one of my personal PKs on site to transfer control of the dampeners to your team. The contract we signed stipulates that you will secure the building against all intruders … Yes, lethal force if needed.”

  Fucking hell. She’d obviously decided the bomb dampeners weren’t enough. She was deploying specialty Peacekeepers to the K12 lab, and they had permission to use lethal force. Was the CME that important?

  “Parker,” Marissa barked. “Pay attention. I want an update every hour. I want progress every hour. If you fail me, consider yourself exiled. I’ll dump you on the farthest hell hole we own. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, madam—Empress Cortez,” Dr. Parker said.

  “And I want you to keep our newest test subject away from the others. I don’t want any pink-haired, starry-eyed girl stories getting to the media. We’ve got enough to handle with the Lucy-damn Blue Angel nonsense, do I make myself clear? If any of this makes the news, your career is over.”

  “Of course, madam.”

  Someone stormed out a door, slamming it behind them.

  “Holy hell,” Dr. Parker said. “I’ll fail. I know I will. Dr. Monroe is dead, and I’m supposed to detain the Blue Angel of Death, who is most likely a secret elite from a dead planet. And if that secret gets out, I’ll be exiled. Fuck.”

  Did Dr. Parker really think I was an elite from House Zar? Everything I knew about myself made that impossible. Of course, until today I’d been a nobody with a silver allergy and almost no magic. Now I suddenly had a VF and all the magic I needed to cast any spell I could think of. And my spell library wasn’t static; I could add to it anytime. If I saw a new spell, it was automatically processed into my archive. That was a system I needed to learn to control, but everything about the ability would have been impossible to even consider yesterday. And now it was real.