Soul Ink

by J. C. Nelson

  “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?”

  “You think he’s okay in there with that thing?” I put one hand on the door. Not like I had much hope of contributing.

  Ari attempted her version of the boss stare. Her eyes narrowed, she glared at me.

  I resisted the urge to laugh at her and give her a hug.

  “We need to mop up the cherubs at these other locations and come up with a plan. I don’t know if you noticed, but Haniel is way out of our league.”

  I put one ear to the door to listen, right as Liam shouted, “That was my favorite shirt, you sorry, sad sack . . .” His shouting trailed off into incomprehensible growls and roars, which confirmed two things:

  First, I felt sorry for the demon. I’d seen this happen before, and the first few minutes were all dragon, all the time.

  Secondly, my boyfriend would be down for the count for a while. According to Liam, if all he did was skulk along in lizard form, like he had in the sewers, he could manage to stay awake when transforming back. If he had to breathe fire, or Kingdom help him, fly, the result was total exhaustion.

  From inside the apartment came a sound I classified as “Demon being mangled.” I’d never heard the sound before, but this was fairly unmistakable.

  “Cherubs. We have to deal with them.” So, with much trepidation, I left my boyfriend destroying the top floor of an apartment building, and followed Ari off to do a job animal control should have handled.

  It took the next four hours to clear all them out. At every location, we found the same evidence. A headless body in various states of consumption. Three or four smiling, burbling cherubs eating fistfuls of flesh, and no Haniel, thank Kingdom.

  We’d caught a cab back to my apartment when the rearview mirror glowed, and Grimm’s eyes filled it. If it were possible, even more wrinkles surrounded the edges of his eyes. “Ladies, why do I get the feeling you haven’t been taking a night out on the town?”

  “We’ve been dealing with more”—I glanced to the driver—“pigeons.”

  Grimm closed his eyes and nodded.

  “Also,” said Ari, “there’s Haniel.”

  “Not our problem, ladies. You will avoid any situation which might bring you into contact with that entity.” Grimm’s tone said the conversation was done. He’d failed to realize that didn’t work with me.

  “So he just does his ascension, stops killing people, and we go on with life? And what exactly does ‘bear witness’ mean he wants?”

  At the word “ascension,” Grimm’s eyes grew wide. After a long minute, he finally spoke. “I suspect, ladies, that Haniel may be more of our problem than I thought.”

  “Because you just figured out that letting him kill people is bad?” asked Ari.

  “No, princess.” Grimm heaved a sigh born from eons of worry. “Few witnesses survive the ritual they have agreed to observe, and I’d rather not let him kill you.”

  Nine

  We went home and slept in spite of the “deranged angel is going to kill you” threat. This wasn’t some supercharged sense of invulnerability; it was common sense. You can only hunt cherubs, encounter a demon, and get threated by an archangel so much before you need food and rest.

  By the time I got home, I had a voice mail from Liam. He’d woken in the ruined remains of a penthouse with no sign of the demon and gone home. To his studio workshop, where he forged wrought-iron art.

  I wanted to call and explain. To tell him about Grimm’s statement. But I didn’t want him involved any more than he’d already been. After seven years as an agent, I expected crap like this. And Ari, she had the princess thing going for her.

  Liam mixing it up with an archangel could only end badly, and I wouldn’t risk it ending badly for him. So I crawled into bed after inhaling Chinese takeout, and dreamed of smiling cherubs floating just out of reach, waiting with hungry eyes.

  • • •

  The next morning, under broad sunlight, the whole demon-angel-threat thing no longer loomed over me. I made a pot of coffee, risked Ari’s wrath by rousing her, and sat down to read the newspaper.

  Except that Grimm was waiting i
n the makeup mirror on my table. “Marissa, I trust you had a good rest?”

  Wary of a verbal trap, I only nodded.

  “Would you mind explaining what part of Aiyn’s Press is doing in my office? Or why there’s a theft report stating that a hideous hag with ragged brown hair and horrible body odor stole it?”

  “You didn’t tell me how to use it.” I’d rarely gone toe-to-toe with Grimm since becoming his partner, but this was not the morning for him to pick a fight. “It’s not like you’ve had a problem borrowing magical artifacts before.”

  Grimm opened his mouth to give me a retort and stopped. “That’s true. But I expected you to use the most rational method possible. Trigger a fire alarm, then walk out amid the chaos. A great agent models efficiency.”

  “Got it. Now, exactly how do I use it? I’ve seen what it does to my tattoo, but how do I actually get the ink out?”

  “Simple,” said Grimm. “We cut into your arm while the ink is displaced, and siphon it out along with an unavoidable portion of your blood.”

  The hell we would. “Try again. Come up with a better way, or I’m going to keep it.”

  Ari’s door opened and she came stumbling out, resembling one of the walking dead more than a banished princess. “Morning, M.”

  “Only technically,” said Grimm. “And, Marissa, I suspect the tattoo is simply biding its time until it can take over.”

  The thought of the strange, hypnotic ink making it to my brain had me readjusting priorities. “Change of plans, take it out now.”

  Ari grabbed my arm and inspected it. “I can finally see magic again. Grimm’s right. This is starting to move on its own.”

  “Hmmm,” said Grimm. “The problem with fae ink is that it can only be injected with special needles. I suppose it’s possible one could use them to extract the ink as well. I’ve always had the unfortunate recipient run through the soul sieve.” Grimm looked up and caught the incredulous stare Ari and I were beaming his direction. “I mean, if I had ever used it, that would be the most efficient method.”

  Ari sat down at the table beside me and crossed her arms. “What’s an archangel doing with a demon? And don’t try to tell me it wasn’t a demon. I saw what Marissa can’t.”

  I thought for sure Grimm would put her off again. “I suppose it’s too late to keep you from being involved.”

  I nodded. “It was probably too late when I got a call from someone about your contract. Someone who wasn’t too worried about the people being killed, just the mess left behind.”

  “They dared contact you?” The table trembled as Grimm’s image shook in the mirror. “That’s inexcusable. And that, I take it, is how you wound up confronting Haniel again?”

  I nodded. “Got it in one. They said as your partner, I had responsibility for your obligations.”

  Grimm ran his fingers through his hair. When he spoke, his voice shook. “When I invited you to work with me instead of for me, I didn’t anticipate this. I will be amending my contract to ensure your involvement is proscribed, Marissa.”

  “I’m a big girl. Now, about that angel?”

  “Since you are both already involved, I speak to you in confidence. Haniel seeks to defect. To leave his station in Paradisia, but retain his might.” Grimm glanced around the room, then continued. “Without a doubt, this is why he seeks willing sacrifices. He will use their souls to stain himself, corrupting his very nature.”

  I’d cracked some heads back in the church, or smashed skulls. “I might have busted a few heads the first time we ran into Haniel. So he was replacing the ones I broke. And tonight, at the midnight chapel, he’ll—”

  Grimm held up a hand. “How do you know of the midnight chapel?”

  “I’ll give you one guess,” said Ari. “Haniel said we’d either bear witness to his ascendancy or die there. I declined to die.”

  I had a sneaky suspicion that Haniel had nothing good planned for us. “Do we die if we bear witness?”

  Grimm thought for a moment. “Can you be trusted if I leave you alone to perform divination?”

  “No,” said Ari and I together.

  I mouthed Yes to Grimm, then added, “I’ve got an idea. I’m going back to the tattoo shop to see what kind of needles they used. If this ink’s so special, I doubt it gets along with regular steel.”

  Grimm didn’t answer. He just disappeared.

  And my arm began to tingle right where the Agency bracelet touched me. Liam was calling. I put my hand on it and waited for the sensation of sitting right across from him.

  “M? You there?” Liam smelled of wood smoke and aftershave. At least, that’s the impression that came across our link.

  The smile on my face spilled into my voice. “I’m here. Are you hurt from yesterday?”

  “A few bruises. Grimm stopped in this morning while I was shaving. He find you?” I could almost feel the stubble on his chin.

  Find was more a question of waiting until I wasn’t in the bathroom to speak. “He did. I’m going into Kingdom today. Gotta talk to the tattoo artist who worked on us. You want to have lunch?” I ignored Ari’s eyes, which rolled around like she was searching for her brains.

  “I’ll meet you at the tattoo shop. I have a piece of steel in the forge right now that I’ve got to finish. You like red-hot steel, right?”

  Not as much as I liked one red-hot man, but Ari might gag if I said that. “I love you. See you there.”

  • • •

  Ari and I found our way through Kingdom, dodging two parades, a pack of singing minstrels, and a pack of ragged orphans, at least three of which were likely to discover they were royalty. In fact, in Kingdom, odds were the occasional prince would discover he was actually a long-lost commoner.

  We arrived at the tattoo shop just as the neon lights came on, highlighting a dozen different designs. Liam leaned against the brick, his hands jammed in his denim jeans. He gave me a kiss. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey, you.” I pointed to the door. “You want to wait here?”

  “I’m with you,” he said. And opened it for me.

  I walked into a shop I only vaguely remembered from before. Checkered black-and-white flooring shone with red neon glare, and the chairs resembled a barbershop gone bad, with leather restraints for less cooperative clients.

  “Come back for more work?” To call the woman who spoke “painted” would have implied there was a bare spot on her skin. From her eyelids to her toes, everything visible was inked. And most everything was visible. “You’re bruise girl. And you’re the one with her name on your crotch.”

  “Shoulder,” I said. “It’s on his shoulder.”

  “Oh, right,” she said, waving a cigarette. “That was the other girl’s name. I normally don’t do names, but figured he already had one, so another ain’t gonna hurt.”

  Ari’s startled “Oh!” competed with the hum of the neon signs as I turned on Liam. “Did I hear that right?”

  “It was a long time ago,” said Liam.

  “Show me.” I thought I’d seen every inch of that man, but obviously, a few things had escaped my attention.

  “It’s not really in a place I can show here. Sort of below the hairline. I used to shave . . .”

  Liam’s explanation drained off under my newly discovered boss stare. I’d never managed it before, which I attributed to a lack of proper motivation. “Okay, we’ll save that for later. Tell me how it happened.”

  “This ought to be good,” said the tattoo lady, until I turned the boss stare on her.

  Liam cleared his throat. “I dated this girl in Art College. She liked ink. I liked her. We wound up in a shop, and she said it was get a tat or call it quits.”

  The sheer stupidity of his decision overwhelmed me. “And you did it?”

  I’d run over deer with better comprehension skills. Liam’s eyes went wid
e. “You don’t understand. If you’d been there, and seen her . . .” His eyes met mine and his voice trailed off.

  I tapped my food. “Yes? If I’d been there, what?”

  “Well,” Liam swallowed, “I wouldn’t have made such a mistake.”

  I had to give it to him, pulling that out at the last possible moment. And follow up for sure, not because I was jealous, I told myself. Well, maybe because I was a little jealous. To avoid any more awkward discoveries, I turned my attentions on the tattoo artist, whose tank top showed off a tattooed nameplate reading “Cheryl.” “Cheryl, we’re here about the work you did the other night. I want to know where you got the ink, and how you injected Mr. Stone and myself with it.”

  Liam winced at my use of his last name. I hadn’t called him that—well—ever. Cheryl, on the other hand, began to sweat in a shop so cold I could hang meat in it.

  After an age of uncomfortable silence, Ari piped up. “We’d really like to know.”

  I glanced over and caught the grimace. Ari knew what she was doing. Your average person couldn’t any more say no to a prince or princess than they could stop breathing. While Ari avoided using her charms when possible, they came in handy every so often. Thank Kingdom I was mostly immune.

  “Look,” said Cheryl, “I know I’m not supposed to have this, but sometimes we get hard cases.” She waved for us to follow her over to her wall of supplies. There, she removed a battered metal ammo case and unsnapped it. “I got this from my father. He got it from his father. He got it—”

  “We get it,” said Ari. “From your father’s umpteenth father and so on.”

  Cheryl frowned, making the tattooed mustache on her lips crease. “No. I was going to say his uncle won it from a stranger in a game of Go Fish.” She opened the ammo case and untied a rag bundle.

  “You reuse these between jobs?” said Liam, looking a little pale.

  Cheryl shrugged as she splayed the bundle open for us to see. “Not like I can replace them. These aren’t needles. They’re—”

  “Thorns.” I recognized them. A long, thin point that swelled to a bulbous base. I’d had several erupt from my flesh when I killed the Fairy Godmother. “How old are these?”