by Rhys Ford
Readers love Black Dog Blues
by RHYS FORD
“I devoured all 246 pages of it as quickly as I possibly could… Rhys strings descriptive prose together in a way that I loved.”
—Boy Meets Boy Reviews
“Dark, gripping, intense and imaginative… I thought this was a great read.”
—MM Good Book Reviews
“Rhys Ford is an artist; her words are dredged off the palette and brushed on the pages, creating a world that overwhelmed my senses for days after I read the last words.”
—The Novel Approach
“This author plunges you straight into a gritty scene that totally showcases her ability to create sounds, smells and the essence of a scene from mere words.”
—Sinfully… Addicted to All Male Romance
“This story is everything a fantasy should be… not only a fantastic story, its technically excellent and smartly edited. It’s definitely an example of the brilliance I’ve come to expect from Rhys Ford.”
—Love Bytes
“I'm in awe over this Urban Fantasy world that Rhys Ford has created and I want more!”
—Rainbow Book Reviews
Copyright
Published by
DSP PUBLICATIONS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
http://www.dsppublications.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Ink and Shadows
© 2015 Rhys Ford.
Cover Art
© 2015 Anne Cain.
[email protected]
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact DSP Publications, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dsppublications.com/.
ISBN: 978-1-63476-016-4
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-017-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014920374
First Edition July 2015
Printed in the United States of America
This paper meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z37.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
The Four is dedicated to… the Five, Z.A. Maxfield, and LE Franks.
For the Five because they are the foundation of every work I’ve ever done.
For ZAM, who is convinced she loves me.
And for LE because apparently she licked the pixels and declared it hers.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
TO THE FIVE who are everything—from Dragon to Rat: Penn, Lea, Tamm, and Jenn. And to my hanai sisters: Ren, Ree, and Lisa.
There are never enough words of thanks for Elizabeth North and everyone at Dreamspinner Press. Everything that is good is because of them. I cannot thank Grace and her crew enough for herding me like the nipped-up one-eyed cat that I am.
As many thanks to my beta readers and the Dirty Ford Guinea Pigs who put up with SOOOOO much of my crap and whining and damn, don’t read that—I’ve got another idea. So much patience.
Lastly, to every single artist in my music library. God, thank you for keeping me company.
CHAPTER ONE
DEATH SELECTED a ripe orange from the fruit bowl, hitching himself farther back onto the kitchen counter, the marble cold under him, even through the thickness of the low-slung cotton pants he’d tugged on after his workout.
The sudden screech of thumping music had broken the quiet of their penthouse, but Death didn’t mind. It was good to have Mal around, and Death was willing to make adjustments for their youngeSt. As their new Pestilence, Mal brought a youthfulness to their Four that was long missing, although the other two didn’t see it as quite as much of a good thing as Death did. At least this time the volume hadn’t been loud enough to rattle the windows. They’d replaced a broken mirror recently, a victim of Mal’s music.
When the eldest Horseman bent over, his inky hair curved down over his strong jaw, nearly hiding the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Behind him the city glowed under the waning sunlight, holding back the San Diego night creeping in from the horizon.
Sliding his thumbnail against the dimpled orange skin, Death inhaled the sharp citrus oil of the pierced rind. Curving his nail carefully around the rim of the navel, he pushed down gently to barely break the surface. The fruit still lay under in its bright rind, seemingly immune to the immortal’s fingers. A door opened down to the left of the kitchen area. Then Ari strode into the common area, fresh from a shower.
Ari’s rib cage ran thick in one spot, a cicatrice blooming on a stretch of tanned skin. The sunburst peeking over the towel’s edge caught Death’s attention, pulling him away from his orange and the problem that had landed in his lap. War’s scar was as familiar to him as his own but much more intriguing, rays of thinner lines spiraling out from a single spray, and still it tugged at his imagination. He gave the thin scar running down his left eye ridge and over the bridge of his nose much less thought.
Death wondered if their scars were from their deaths, one of the few times he’d given himself permission to wonder about where the Horsemen all came from, but the answer, like so many others, was out of his reach. Pestilence, the most recent of their Four, had none on him. Death was amused at the irony of a Pestilence dead from a disease. Min’s flat belly was carved with a half-moon arc between her hip bones, nearly a pinkie width of tangled skin.
“Ah, we’re alone. Okay, maybe not totally alone, but unless Cooties comes out of his room, we’re alone enough. Want to neck and have some fun?” Ari’s white teeth nipped at the dark-haired man’s ear, barely skimming the soft flesh before Death pulled away and gave him a muted disapproving look Ari was quite used to. Eyes slanted slightly upward, he glanced a black warning at Ari’s familiarity with his body.
“Stop it.” His gaze dropped, voice soft in a whisper, a reluctant protestation made out of habit. Looking at the recalcitrant fruit, Death worried once more at the rind, crushing the pulp inside. “I’m thinking.”
“You think too much sometimes. And give me that. I’ll open it for you.” His rough voice broke Death’s study of the fruit. Disgusted at the mess made of the orange, he reached for it, tugging at the fruit until Death let go.
Death gave up the orange reluctantly, long fingers opening under the press of Ari’s callused hand. Ari met the other immortal’s contemplative dark eyes with a steady stare, refusing to give in to Death’s stubbornness. Looking down, Death avoided the other man’s frank gaze, staring instead at the towel knotted about Ari’s waist.
Ari’s flat stomach was bare except for a faint dusting of blond hair around his navel, the down darkened from spots of water, burrowing down past the towel. Moving forward, Ari’s thick and powerful legs straddled Death’s knees as the blond savagely worked the orange free from its skin.
Standing against one another in the kitchen, they touched casually, although Death was cautious, knowing Ari would take even the slightest hint of intimacy and run away wi
th it. Ari had laid siege more than once around the dark-haired immortal, each time falling back and licking his wounds while promising never to approach again, then swearing under his breath when he renewed pursuit. Now they were at a rare peace, Ari circling and looking for an opening while Death was seemingly unaware.
Old arguments hung between them, heated tensions folded more times than they could count and tempered by the passions of the blond man, who sometimes pushed too hard. Death was a contrary player in Ari’s games, permissive just far enough to whet Ari’s appetites.
The fruit’s rind parted under Ari’s thumbs, tearing free from the flesh with a gush of juice.
Sucking at the white membrane left on his thumb, Ari handed the fruit back, grinning widely at Death’s wrinkled nose at the bruised segments.
“You’ve killed it.” Pulling the juicy sphere apart, Death gave a mock grimace at the shattered cells, popped from Ari’s aggressive tearing.
“You’re too gentle with things.” Ari sniffed, tugging the towel closed where it threatened to tumble from his hips. Most of his body was still damp, his long dirty-blond hair just starting to dry at the ends. Leaning on the marble counter, the tips of his fingers dragging along the outer edge of Death’s knee, Ari quirked one eyebrow at the immortal. “Sometimes you just have to tear things apart. It looked like you were making juice inside of that rind.”
“Sometimes you have to coax them along,” Death replied, trying to separate out a piece of orange.
“I’ve tried coaxing. It doesn’t work as well as tearing,” Ari said.
Turning, Ari gazed at the city below, the penthouse’s west expanse of windows reaching out over downtown and toward the bay. “City looks nice tonight. Fog might roll in early.”
“It might.” Death nodded.
A shuddering wraith wove past the window, then slammed into the glass, startling the two Horsemen.
Its reptilian face was screwed up into a pout, eyes running down an elongated face as it howled soundlessly at them. White and pasty, it pressed hard against the glass, wanting some sort of recognition from the men living just beyond its reach. A flash of opal, and the Veil thickened, shoving the specter away from the immortals. It plunged it back into the shadows where other creatures lurked, then circled back around, a wisp of pale gray against the sky.
“What the fuck?” Ari straightened, sliding his hand around Death’s waist, ready to pull the other Horseman off the counter and into safety. “What the hell is that doing up here?”
“It’s been hitting at the windows for the past half an hour.” Death shrugged. “I thought I’d worry about it if it breaks the glass and gets in.”
The creature circled around the upper floor of the building, drawing in close to Mal’s windows.
Ari grinned at the youngest’s startled shout, dangerously excited by the wraith popping in and out of the darkness outside. He laughed into Death’s shoulder, a wicked grin on his face. “Guess it surprised Cooties.”
Inside his room, Mal struggled to turn down the volume of his stereo, leveling out the bass before it broke the glass of his bookshelves with a resonant thump. Guided by the flickering green of the remote’s display, he fumbled for the right knob, his vision fuzzy. Barking his knees on the coffee table, the youngest Horseman yelped, biting the tip of his tongue.
Searching about on the tabletop, he found his spectacles mostly by sound, his wire-rimmed glasses rattling when his fingers hit the earpiece. Putting them on, the world came into view, his messy study littered with open books and more than a few empty tumblers. Mal shoved his pale hair off his face, stray chunks falling forward into his eyes.
“Did you see that?” Mal poked his head out of his bedroom door, gesturing wildly behind him, then realized neither man could see through the solid wall to where he was pointing. “That was a wraith. Up here!”
“Got to hand it to the boy, he’s sometimes got at least half a brain cell working.” Ari leaned his hip against the counter. “Wraiths aren’t that bold. That thing shouldn’t have been able to come this close.”
“It’s rather daring. Maybe it feels safe behind the glass? But then why would it try to get in?” Death agreed as he worked off another piece of orange. He’d been troubled ever since he’d first gotten the message that the Four were needed for a task. “I think something near us is thinning the Veil. I’ve gotten some rumors about things happening, and well, then….”
“How thin?” Ari frowned.
“I’ve heard about things leaking out.” Death watched Mal as he bounded into the living room, the young immortal following the wraith’s progress as it looped around their penthouse. “You can go into my rooms if it’s heading there. If it starts to look like it’s coming through, let us know. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” Mal strode past Ari, ignoring the other Horsemen. “I thought it broke one of my windows, but the pane held.”
“Just don’t open a window and let it in,” Ari shouted at Mal’s back as the young man headed to Death’s rooms, looking for the phantasm. “Hell, it might eat him, and we can get a new Pestilence. One that knows how to hold a sword or something.”
“Leave him alone, Ari,” Death replied. “We have other things to fret about. Wraiths outside of our windows are the least of our worries. I tried asking around a bit, but mostly it seems to be just talk. I can’t get anything solid.”
“Crazy people talking to themselves is normal.” Ari reached for the mangled bits of fruit in Death’s hands, his thoughts as tangled as Death’s fingers around the orange. “Now you’re the one killing that.”
“I’m Death. What else were you expecting?” Death gave Ari a bruised look, making the blond laugh, a burst of booming warmth.
“For you to eat it. You don’t eat enough.”
Ari’s belly clenched when he held out a slice and Death leaned forward to bite into the offering, his teeth barely grazing Ari’s fingertips. When the other man pulled back, chewing on the orange slice, Ari sucked his fingers clean, hoping to find some taste of Death left in the wetness.
The world paused for Ari, holding its breath before turning again as Death chewed. After swallowing to bring moisture back into his mouth, Ari spoke. “What kind of stuff are you talking about? Or is it the normal God help us, someone is probing the cows? And who’s telling us this, those idiots beyond?”
“Those idiots, as you call them, are helpful. I got a message yesterday afternoon. I needed some time to think about it,” Death remarked. Dealing with directives from beyond was a major reason Ari wanted nothing to do with guiding the Horsemen. “They want us to hunt down something.”
“Every time you get one of those, I’m reminded how happy I am that you’re our leader.” Ari spit out a sliver of seed caught on his tongue. “I hate those things. Everything is cryptic, and they remind me we’re just puppets. They make my skin crawl.”
“I’m used to them, I suppose.” Death shrugged, picking the threads from the fruit. “It’s better than it used to be. I’d rather have my dieffenbachia catching fire and speaking in tongues than my horse starting to paw out runes in the dirt. Somehow that’s more disturbing.”
“Your plant okay?”
“It’s fine. They possessed the television this time.” Death gave Ari a grin.
“What did the flaming television want this time?”
“Something’s unbalancing the Veil. Things are bleeding through. Things from our side.” Death leaned back on his hands, slick with citrus juice. “They didn’t give me much in the message. You know it’s hard for them to see into the mortal world.”
“Omnipotent but blind. Interesting combination. It’s funny how they always cop the we’re blind to things in the mortal world whenever they give us squat to go on.” Ari rarely kept his own opinions about the unseen puppet masters to himself. “What exactly are we looking for?”
“I don’t know. I know it’s tearing the Veil wide open. Maybe something big got loose. Might even have been somethi
ng let loose by someone playing with things they didn’t understand.”
“Someone being a seer or magus? They’re always pains in the asses.” Ari mulled over the possibility of the world returning to an older time when humans were accustomed to the Veiled walking among them. “Be a bitch if we have to spend all of our time chasing down shadows.”
“Those we could handle. I was told that things are crawling out of the Veil, and humans are able to see them and touch them.” Swallowing another bite of orange, Death wrinkled his nose. “San Diego seems to be hit the hardest, from what I can tell.”
“So it’s probably starting here in the city.” Ari helped himself to another slice of Death’s fruit, sucking the pulp free.
“It could be,” Death said. “Whatever this is, it’s even making the Fae nervous. Last thing they want is to be spilled out into the mortal world. It’s been a long time since they’ve been exposed to humans. I don’t think they would be able to handle it now. People these days would hunt them rather than worship them.”
“Do you think there’s something in the water doing it?” Ari asked, playing with the folds of his wrapped towel. “You remember that one time in Montana when there was a wheat fungus that made entire towns see the things that go bump? We were there for days until Pestilence… Batu… figured that out.”
“I don’t know what it is. I wish we had more help in this, but the Others aren’t willing. I’ve asked.” Death shook his head to stop Ari’s railing about the other immortals. “The television flared on again this morning, but it wasn’t any clearer.”
“Maybe it won’t be anything, but hell, it’ll be nice to get out and do something else, huh?” Stretching his arms up, Ari felt the kink pop out of his neck. “Good time to be hunting. Night’s cool, and the moon’s a bit thin. Good time to break legs and suck the marrow clean from the bone.”
“I was trying to get a feel for what is going on, but I didn’t have much luck,” Death replied, leaving off picking through the orange. “The humans that can see us tend to avoid me.”