Invincible

by Dawn Metcalf

  “Always follow directions,” he said sternly. “Or results are not guaranteed.” He stepped over to Monica, who wasn’t quite sure how to act. “And who is this?”

  “She is my friend, known as Monica Reid,” Joy said in the roundabout way of introductions among the Folk. She hadn’t meant to do it—it had become a habit out of necessity, but Monica looked at her as if she’d grown another head.

  “Hi,” Monica said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “No tutorials, demonstrations or free samples,” Mr. Vinh said automatically.

  “It’s nothing like that,” Joy said. “She already has the Sight—”

  “Obviously,” he said. “And somewhat else.” He slid forward, barely disturbing the matted floor. His fingers traced the air between them, hovering at eye height, then moving down to her hand on the dagger. “I recognize this,” he said, his gaze flicking from the blade to Joy, a twitch under thick lids. “I thought this was yours.”

  “No,” Monica said coolly. “It’s mine.”

  Mr. Vinh considered the thing in her hand. “May I?” He reached into the glass cabinet and removed his favorite spyglass, squinting through a smooth stone with a hole in its center as he rotated a tiny dial clockwise.

  “Yes,” he said, making a few more adjustments. “I believe it is.” He looked up. “Interesting.”

  Monica frowned. “What?”

  “Would you be willing to sell it?” he asked, placing the apparatus back in the case. “I can offer a generous price.” Joy ignored the casual tone and watched his eyes; he wanted it—the look reminded her of Ladybird once he’d discovered who she was. There might as well have been cartoon dollar signs painted over his eyes.

  Monica glanced at Joy, who shook her head. “No,” Monica said. “No, thank you. It has...sentimental value.”

  “It was a gift,” Ink said. “From a relative.” He murmured a string of syllables that ended in something like mambo.

  “Ah,” Mr. Vinh said, and tucked his hands behind his back. “Well, then, how else may I be of service?”

  “Two things,” Joy said quickly. “First, can you tell us what spell is on these?” Monica handed Joy the plastic baggie of pearls. Mr. Vinh offered his palm and she dropped it in. He rolled the pearls around with the tip of his finger.

  “Yes,” he said. “I can do this.”

  There was a moment’s pause.

  “We will, of course, compensate you for the information,” Ink said.

  “Good,” Mr. Vinh said, nodding to Joy with mild censure. “Hai has needed recent reminding—no freebies, even for pretty girls.”

  Joy bit her tongue. Hai had given her the name of the Amanya spell, which had saved Graus Claude, freed everyone of the spell of forgetting, as well as exposed Aniseed’s betrayal and illicit coup against the King and Queen—but she knew Mr. Vinh had little love for the tien other than as well-paying clients. He would not be swayed by the good it had done for the Twixt.

  He wrote a number on the back of a business card and passed it to Ink, who nodded. Mr. Vinh took it back and wrote a single word beneath it. He did not hand it over.

  “And the second thing?” he asked.

  “I need to find someone—” Joy said.

  “Hire a tracker,” Mr. Vinh said. “I believe your young Norse friend bartered well for Kestrel’s services. I would be happy to make the arrangements for my usual fee.”

  Monica gasped. “Gordon knows about all this?”

  “No,” Joy said. “He means Filly.”

  “She’s a Valkyrie,” Ink said helpfully.

  Monica pursed her lips. “O-kay.”

  “I thought I could use this,” Joy said, unzipping her purse and removing the dowsing rod. “We used it for the Amanya spell, but I’m not tracing a spell back to its caster. I thought maybe I could use the human equivalent of an Anvesana spell, but I don’t have access to anything like blood so I’m hoping you have a better idea for how to trace mana or something.”

  Mr. Vinh and Monica looked at her with matching expressions of shock.

  “How do you know of these things?” he asked.

  “Blood?” Monica said, glaring at Joy. “Really, Joy? Ew! Do I really have to point out that that sentence has got ‘stupid’ written all over it?”

  Joy plunked the Y-shaped piece of wood on the desk of painted scrolls. “It’s Stef, okay?” Joy said. “My brother, Stef. Your apprentice, Stef. He’s been taken by the King and Queen and he’s trapped until I can convince them to come out and the only way that I can do that is if I find Stef before they do something to him.” As she said it, she wondered if she was already too late. But she needed this spell and she needed Filly’s distraction and she probably needed whatever Ink had commissioned from Idmona first. She wasn’t about to race into Faeland without being prepared, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to.

  If Hai was right, all magic gave off mana—ripples of telltale energy—that could be traced back to their origins, which would include a certain wizard-in-training and any enspelled things he might have on him, like glyphed glasses or a frayed iron-bead bracelet. If she was right, she could use human magic to pierce through Faeland. And if her brother was right, all it would take was the right spell.

  Mr. Vinh smiled with genuine pleasure. “Very good.” He ran a hand over the dowsing rod approvingly. “I see you have been busy, too.” Thinking of all the places she’d been dragged around as she sought the origin of the Amanya spell, she could only nod. She wasn’t keen about repeating the experience, but she’d do all of it again if it meant saving Stef. Mr. Vinh tapped the side of his cap. “You’re clever. Smart girl. This is a good thing for you,” he said, turning slowly. “A bad thing, I think, for the tien.” He chuckled. Mr. Vinh obviously approved.

  “You can do this?” Ink said, less a question than a statement.

  “Yes,” Mr. Vinh said. “Certainly. All I need is blood.”

  “Again, I call stupid.” Monica said.

  Joy winced. “I don’t have any blood.”

  “Not just any blood,” Mr. Vinh waved off their concerns. “Very messy. Unhygienic. All sorts of Health Code violations. No, no—” He paused. “I need the blood of the person you are looking for.” He gestured offhandedly toward the door. “It’s common insurance among the tien, even some humans who are aware of its properties make select deposits, investments against just such an emergency.”

  Monica glanced back the way they’d come. “You keep blood samples in your stockroom?”

  Mr. Vinh frowned. “Of course not!” he said. “They are in the refrigerator.”

  “He is your apprentice,” Ink said. “Do you have a sample of his blood?”

  Mr. Vinh huffed through his nose. “Not anymore,” he said stiffly and paced the room. “When we learned of your true nature, he returned to me and demanded that we destroy all of his samples.” The older man fiddled with one of the boxes on the shelves. “I complied, of course.”

  “Of course,” Joy said slowly, wondering whether Stef had been trying to protect himself or her from discovery? Or maybe keep his master from temptation? What could a wizard do with samples of their blood? Joy had a feeling she didn’t want to find out.

  Mr. Vinh tapped his stylus thoughtfully. “Do you have his shaving razor? Toothbrush? Band-Aid? Anything that might have a trace of his blood on it?”

  “He was heading off to college,” she said. “He took everything. We could break into his car and look...”

  “Wait.” Ink stepped closer to Mr. Vinh’s shelves of dried herbs and things floating in jars. “Is a blood spell like a blood key?”

  Joy remembered the term. She flashed back to the illusion of her kitchen and the things boiling in the dark beyond Aniseed’s trap, which had been sealed with a blood key. They’d escaped using a blood-soaked c
offee cake as a decoy. Joy could still feel the sugary crystals rolling over her open wound.

  Mr. Vinh paused, his curiosity piqued. “I believe they work on the same principle.”

  “Then perhaps it does not need to be as specific as a key,” Ink continued. “Perhaps you only need a sample of the shared bloodline.”

  The wizard considered it. “If your theory applies, then, yes.”

  Ink turned gently to Joy. “If so, you could find him using your blood.”

  “Joy—” Monica said, eyes wide. Joy didn’t need to hear the words, No Stupid!

  “It’s Stef,” she said aloud, to Monica and Ink and Mr. Vinh and herself. It felt inevitable, like Fate unspooling. “I’ll do it.” Her fingers shook. Ink placed his hand over them. Monica squeezed her shoulder. Joy addressed her brother’s master. “Just show me how.”

  * * *

  A pinprick and a Band-Aid from the First Aid kit, and it was over. Joy watched as a drop of her blood disappeared into the small divot at the crux of the Y-shaped rod. Mr. Vinh performed the ritual. Ink carefully collected any trash, which he said he would destroy himself. The wizard nodded with professional courtesy and a modicum of respect.

  “A wise precaution,” the wizard said. Monica whispered a “Thank you” to Ink.

  “Done,” Mr. Vinh decreed as he wiped his hands on a paper towel. The oil he’d used to seal the reservoir still shone on its surface. Joy’s drop of blood was barely a dark patch underneath. “Now, here is your spell—guaranteed for up to three generations.” He handed her a rolled piece of scroll paper tied with black ribbon. “The vibrations should increase as you get closer.”

  Joy’s shoulders and elbows ached with residual memory. “Yeah. I’m familiar with it.”

  Mr. Vinh smiled. “I have always been fascinated by the intersection of technology and magic,” he said with genuine delight. “You will tell me how it worked when you both return?” Joy appreciated the unspoken vote of confidence that she would return successfully with her brother in tow. She knew, no matter what he felt about his wayward apprentice, he would not leave Stef to the tien.

  “Yes,” Joy said. “Thank you.”

  “And you,” he said, eyes twinkling at Monica. “Are you certain I cannot convince you to part with your bit of magic stick?”

  Monica glanced at Joy again. Her best friend hesitated. “Can it help Joy out there?”

  Mr. Vinh’s face broke into sly wrinkles. “You are smart to ask. Smarter to stay out of this altogether, but I imagine it’s too late for that.” He pointed at his own eyebrow. “You are marked. And you can See them. They don’t like that, but they should think twice about interfering if you hold on to that.” He raised two empty hands. “Keep it. For now. But my offer still stands.”

  “Okay,” Monica said uneasily. “Thanks.”

  Mr. Vinh dipped his brush back into the pot of paint. “Then our business is done,” he said. “Goodbye and good luck.”

  Joy paused in the door. “Thanks again.”

  Mr. Vinh paused midstroke. “Do not thank me,” he said solemnly. “I expect your brother to do so himself.” He pointed the end of the paintbrush at her. “Go bring your family home.”

  Joy nodded. “I will.”

  All of them, she promised herself. And, as they all knew, she couldn’t lie.

  As they exited the back room, Hai paused from straightening the magazines and put on a pair of Ray-Bans etched with runes.

  “Done for the day?” he asked. The other customers barely noticed. Hai was just as good as any of the Folk at speaking in code.

  Joy nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Good,” Hai said. “Did he tell you that we’ve sold more in the past month than we have in the past twelve years?” Joy paused, knowing they weren’t talking about potato chips. Considering how much Mr. Vinh had quoted her to buy Ink’s glamour, she could barely imagine how much money Mr. Vinh was making selling glamours to the Twixt. She remembered the dancers at the Carousel, her head spinning like the glow stick lights. Hai winked. “Yeah,” he drawled. “You should have asked for commission.” He tipped his chin to Ink. “Come back later and I can put a little more chrome reflection on the chain. It’s not catching the light quite right.”

  Ink nodded as he followed Joy and Monica through the door.

  “Artists!” he sighed, sounding exactly like Inq.

  TWENTY-TWO

  THEY LEFT MONICA at home behind new wards that included a special dispensation for Sol Leander, should he be needed. Joy didn’t like it, but she knew that the Councilex would never harm Monica. Besides, she shuddered to think what would happen if he learned that she and Ink had locked him out a second time.

  Monica gave Joy a long hug at the door and pointed a warning finger at Ink. “You watch out for her,” she said. “I am trusting you to keep her out of trouble.”

  Ink gave a gentle bow. “No promises, but I shall try my best.”

  Monica crossed her arms. “Not good enough.”

  “I know.” He said it quietly, sadly, like a confession. “We are a work in progress.”

  Monica glanced back at Joy. “Please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “You’d better!” Monica held the door open an extra second. “Now go get Stef back!”

  “Will do,” Joy said. “Now go call Gordon before he freaks out and buys you something expensive for real. Remember—No Stupid. Talk to him.”

  “I will.”

  Joy watched the door close, heard it lock and walked with Ink back down the slope of the Reid’s front yard. Ink stopped and examined her face. He looked taller, somehow. Older. He placed a kiss on her lips like a fingerprint and brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She took Idmona’s business card out of her pocket and wrote down the time. The appointment disappeared, reappearing with a confirmation within seconds. Joy took another deep breath. “With a little luck, this plan might work after all.”

  Ink smiled. “Do you still have your John Melton’s boon?”

  Joy patted her wallet with the pressed four-leaf clover inside. “Hey, I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.” She glanced back at Monica’s front door and whispered, “Remember—No Stupid.”

  She tore the card in half, and they disappeared.

  * * *

  “Remember, you cannot linger,” Graus Claude cautioned as Joy paced the length of the underground pool, attempting to reread the scroll in her hands. The words were slippery and wouldn’t stay on the page. It was hard to concentrate with the Bailiwick’s constant litany of warnings ringing off the subterranean walls. She’d already heard it all. Danger. Army. Trespass. Capture. But there was only one word that mattered to her: Stef. At this point, she didn’t even care about the King and Queen or her ultimate fate. She just needed her family home, together, safe.

  The Bailiwick jostled small ceramic cups on his dinner tray. “Even if we theorize that physical contact is required for you to trigger Faeland’s natural defenses, there is no guarantee that the shoes will work.” Graus Claude glared at Ink. “You should have consulted me to make the necessary inquiries.”

  “You have taught me well, Bailiwick,” Ink said with a bow. “Idmona believes that the boots and gloves will protect Joy from direct contact with the soil. Lining the soles with her own silk should fool the magics into accepting Joy’s passage as one of the Folk. And, as she is a proper descendant, it should still satisfy the conditions of Faeland.” Ink looked up curiously at his employer’s concern. “Do you doubt Idmona’s work?”

  The great amphibian’s browridge shot up in surprise. “I would never be so bold,” he said. “Or so foolish.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Joy said. She wiggled her toes in the unfamiliar
soft leather, feeling the spongy give of the pads. She’d needed Filly’s help to lace them up to her knees and the elbow-length gloves felt strangely elegant. “She said they’d work and so I trust they’ll work.” The giant spider-woman had circled Joy’s feet, adjusting the leathers and laces for a proper fit, slicing off excess sole with a thin little knife. She’d grown used to the tickle of Idmona’s long, stiff hairs and the clunk of her beads, but her many limbs scuttling across the mirror reflections made Joy twitchy. She suspected that Idmona secretly enjoyed scaring her clients. Joy’s stomach still felt watery even an hour after they’d gone. “We have plenty of other things to worry about.”

  Graus Claude smoothed the collar of his silk jacket and grumbled, “Lest we forget.”

  “Are we ready?” Filly said impatiently. Her blue eyes sparkled and her smile was lusty and wide. “What’s taking you so long? The spell’s not going to cast itself!”

  “Someone is anxious,” Ink teased. The young Valkyrie grinned and licked the blue spot below her lip.

  “The fun is in the chase,” she said, and shot a wink at Joy. “You should know that by now.”

  “This isn’t supposed to be fun,” Joy said. “It’s about not getting caught. I need you to keep whatever’s in there busy until I can track down Stef.” She lifted the dowsing rod. It was hard to feel it through the silk gloves. “Ink will stay with me while we get Stef to accept his True Name. When we give the signal, break for the door.” She blinked into the unsteady light. “We get out together or not at all.” She gave a hmph of annoyance as the words of the spell slid from her memory like US History. Joy tried reading the scroll again.

  “Give it to me,” Ink said gently. “I can adapt myself to read any spoken language.”

  “Oh?” said Filly, sounding surprised.

  “I can shape my tongue.”

  “You don’t say?” She turned to Joy with a smirk. “Is this true?”

  Joy bit the side of her cheek.

  “I wish that you would allow Mistress Inq and Kurt to accompany you on this adventure,” the Bailiwick muttered. Joy knew it was hard for him to feel helpless, left behind.