Invisible

by Dawn Metcalf

  She stopped pacing. “Is this Edict thing for real?” she asked. “Was that what triggered the ward?”

  “No,” Ink said, examining the room. “That was me.”

  That still didn’t explain what had happened before he’d arrived, when the armored knight had reached for his sword. Joy frowned. “How did you find me?”

  Ink blinked his fathomless eyes and smiled.

  “It is you who have Sir John Melton’s boon,” he said. Joy still had a tough time believing that her four-leaf clover actually worked.

  “Good thing, too,” she said, rubbing her arms as if cold. “That was... Is there a stronger word for ‘terrifying’?” She shook her bangs from her eyes and paced in place. “So are we sure that the Edict’s actually working?” she asked. “I mean, if it’s not protecting me, then what about Dad? Or Stef? My brother’s coming home soon...” The idea of putting her family in danger made Joy physically sick.

  “The Edict is in place,” Ink said. “I attended the Council session myself.” His voice kept its steel of certainty. “Your family is safe, Joy.”

  Joy twisted her fingers in her shirt. “Well, if I’m so well protected, then what happened back there?”

  Ink almost shrugged. Almost. The subtle cues he picked up from Joy were making him seem more and more human every day. He was learning. They both were.

  “Nothing happened,” he said matter-of-factly. “Which is most likely what the Council would say if we brought it to their attention.” Ink held up a hand to forestall comment. “You were not actually injured,” he pointed out, his black eyes sweeping over Joy. “They would agree that you look well enough. Yes, it was more than a threat, but not much more.” Ink rolled a piece of wood pulp between his fingers. “Yet...this person knew about the Edict?” he asked quietly. “He knew who you were?”

  Joy rubbed at the spots of mud on her ruined capris. “I said the words the Bailiwick taught me, and the guy heard me just fine,” she said. “I think I can safely say that he knew exactly who I was.” She rubbed harder as if she couldn’t stop. Ink crossed the room and took her hand in his.

  “You are hurt,” he said simply and tapped his chest. “Here.” He tried to catch her eye to confirm it, but she looked away. Her brain still twitched with firefly sparks. Her heart still pounded—she’d been so scared!—but it seemed as if she was only now feeling it, fierce and intense. Joy shivered. Ink squeezed her hand—it was something he’d learned how to do.

  “I did not see it before,” he confessed. “But I know that just because a thing cannot be seen does not mean it is not there.” His voice lilted, coaxing. Joy nodded and squeezed his hand back. Her face felt hot. Her hands felt cold. She was overly conscious of Ink’s worry feeding hers. He sighed. “I cannot take back what has happened, and I cannot undo it,” he said. “Would that I could.” He brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, his fingers lingering there. She remembered that first touch. His voice was open, crisp and clear. “What can I do?”

  She whispered, “Hold me.”

  Ink brought her close, and Joy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him hard against her as if she could press his solid calm into herself. Her heart thudded against his chest, an answering echo rebounding against her skin. She took several deep breaths, and it was several heartbeats later before she realized that he was copying her every move: his hand was in her hair just as hers was in his; his touch on her back was exactly where her palm rested on him. She could tell by the subtle changes of his body and skin that he was moving his senses to accommodate her—his muscles grew more pliant, his skin warmed to the touch, the strength in his arms became more like flesh than like stone. Joy smiled at herself and at him.

  “Thank you,” she said. “This is perfect.”

  He rested his chin on her shoulder. “A hug means many things,” he said. “Over thirty-six, by my count.”

  Joy chuckled. “You’re counting?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Joy laughed aloud, watching his smile dimple. Ink was funniest when he didn’t realize it.

  “You feel better,” he said.

  Joy nodded. “I do.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then I will go and see what ‘happened back there.’” He dropped his hands abruptly. Joy thought maybe they should work on his exits. She stepped back knowing that the wards he’d carved around her home would keep her safe, but she felt better having him there. Just in case.

  Ink paused, inspecting her face. Perhaps he saw her concern? He was getting very good at reading her subtle cues.

  “Do not worry,” Ink said and underlined the statement with a slice of his razor, unzipping a door through time and space. He placed a slow kiss on her bottom lip, soft and tender. He felt that. She did, too. “I will return soon.”

  Joy nodded and was still nodding as he disappeared, realizing a second too late that he’d left the smoldering sword behind.

  She yanked her bathrobe off its hook and threw it over the longsword, snatched her phone on her way to the kitchen and quickly closed the door behind her.

  Just in case.

  * * *

  She texted Stef, asking about his ETA, then pinged Monica as she entered the kitchen and leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar.

  Home at last, she typed. Shift over = FREEDOM!

  It took her best friend only a second to reply, if that.

  Lol! Celebrating? Happy dance?

  Joy smiled. After standing on her feet all day, she hadn’t gone dancing in weeks. She’d almost forgotten that places like the Carousel existed. Almost. You free?

  Expensive as always, but im worth it!!!

  Joy laughed as she sat down on a stool.

  “Hi, honey.” Her father waved from the den. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I’m a ninja,” Joy said as she typed back a series of smiley faces. “It’s all part of staff training. It’s why we wear black.”

  Her father chuckled as he hauled himself off the couch with a groan. His new gym routine included heavy cardio and weighted squats. Despite the grumbling, he had lost almost thirty pounds. He looked good, if tired. “I didn’t know waitresses required the art of stealth.”

  Joy smirked. “We’re sneaky that way.”

  He tugged her ponytail as he passed her on the way to the counter. “Well, I’m glad you’re home safe,” he said. Joy felt a twinge of guilt as she hid her mud-and-wood-pulp-spattered pants beneath the counter. She concentrated on typing a reply to Monica.

  Any chance u can come over? Im stuck at home.

  “I wanted to talk with you about something,” her father said by the sink.

  “Oh?” Joy said as she read: Can Gordon come 2? Or is this estrogen-only?

  Monica and Joy spent time with their respective boyfriends, but also had a regular Girls’ Night since, as Monica insisted, it was always important to stand by your sisters. Monica always checked if it was a co-ed party first.

  Joy typed: Gordon=good times! Will see u 2 when?

  “I’m glad we’ve been having a great time together this summer,” he said as he scraped the last of his Lean Cuisine into the disposal. “That camping trip to the lake will be one for the record books.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Joy nodded, still typing.

  “But, you know,” he said nervously, “I also want to spend some quality time with Shelley...” As she waited for a reply, Joy imagined her father’s girlfriend—Shelley wasn’t a bad person, but it was still a bit weird, his having a life without Mom.

  Xcellent! Will your boy be there 2?

  Joy sighed. After five months, Monica was still attempting to meet Joy’s mysterious boyfriend. Joy couldn’t blame her, but, besides being inhuman, Ink was invisible to those without the Sight. Still, she gave her BFF points for trying. She typed back, Ummmmm
mmmm, no.

  “...and I made sure we’ll have more family time with Stef at the end of August,” her father said gently. Joy realized that he’d been talking the whole time and she’d tuned him out. She looked up and smiled to prove she’d been listening. Sort of.

  “Sure, Dad,” Joy said. Her phone buzzed in her hand. 1 hour? Joy hit a colon, a dash and an end parenthesis. Send. “No problem.”

  Her father smiled, both pleased and relieved.

  “Thanks, Joy,” he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “I appreciate it.” She blew a kiss at him while scrolling through texts, her attention glued to the screen. He sighed. “And I really appreciate that you agreed to pay for that new data plan upgrade,” he added. “Otherwise I would have to yank that thing out of your hands right now.”

  Joy hugged her phone against her chest and glared at him. “Hey!”

  He laughed. “Well, at least I got your attention. Though why you need unlimited worldwide calling is beyond me...” Joy thought about her latest pics from Tuan and Antony’s trip to Belize and said nothing. It was one of the few ways she kept in touch with the Cabana Boys. It made her feel like one of them, one of the group, included—it was something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing since quitting the gymnastics team nearly two years ago, and she was more than willing to pay for it.

  “Okay.” Her dad kissed the top of her forehead. “I’m headed out.”

  “Poker night?” she asked.

  “No, just a few rounds of darts with some guys from Doolin’s.”

  Joy whistled. “Look who’s Mr. Popular!”

  “It starts by getting out of the house,” he said. “You really ought to try it someday.”

  Joy mock frowned and crouched over her phone. “Outside bad! Dark. Scary. Inside good! TV. Food.”

  Dad rolled his eyes. “Don’t wait up.”

  “Bye!” She waved over her shoulder. “Have fun!”

  “Emergency number’s on the fridge in case you decide to break another window...”

  Would she ever live that down? Joy turned and shouted, “Bye, Dad!”

  He grinned boyishly as he shut the door.

  Joy shook her head and typed a final message to Monica.

  Guys r weird.

  Monica’s reply came in all caps:

  AMEN, SISTER!!!

  * * *

  With an hour to burn, Joy decided to clean her room rather than surf online. It would be tougher to tease her brother for being the family slob if her room looked messy when he got home. After filling her trash bag and emptying the hamper, Joy dusted off her dresser and wiped down the shelf that held three printed invitations to various swanky parties in Zurich, Melbourne and Moscow (care of Nikolai, on tour); a heavy glass snow globe from Glacier Bay, Alaska (from Enrique’s latest adventure); a cashmere infinity scarf (from Luiz in Paris); and an odd collection of figurines—what Ilhami called “booby dolls”—from various cultures around the world. She had eight so far, wide-hipped, big-bellied and well-endowed, lined up in a row. Ilhami thought sending them to the “Cabana Girl” was hilarious. He had even scribbled eyes on one of them in Sharpie marker, which was probably sacrilegious, but Joy got the reference: knocked up by Indelible Ink.

  As if on cue, Ink zipped into her room through the space next to her nightstand.

  “What are you doing?”

  Joy shrugged and put down the booby doll. “I’m cleaning,” she said into the mirror, which failed to catch Ink’s reflection behind her. “I was bored.”

  “I see,” he said with a smile. “You know, if you are ever bored, you can always call Inq.”

  Joy neatened her ponytail. “I’m not that bored.”

  He laughed. “Probably wise,” he said. He draped her pink bathrobe across the bed and picked up the sword. He inspected the weapon closely, watching the light gleam off the nicked and pitted blade. “The Bailiwick often says to be wary of wishing for an interesting life,” he said casually. “And while I have been gone, I have discovered many interesting things.”

  Joy twisted her fingers in her shirt. “Such as?”

  Ink’s eyes flicked to her. “I went back to the edge of the Glen where we fought,” he said. “And you were right—I do not think this was an idle threat.”

  Joy crossed her arms against a sudden prickly chill. “So do you think that one of the Folk was really trying to kill me?”

  “I do not know.” Ink’s boyish face grew serious. “To know that, we must bring this—” he hefted the sword “—to Graus Claude.”

  Joy scraped her bare feet against the carpet. “‘We?’”

  “Of course.” Ink grinned and held up her discarded clogs in his left hand. “Clearly, I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

  “Ha ha.” Joy took her lost shoes and slipped them on. “Monica and Gordon are on their way here,” she said. “To keep me company.” She almost added, I wish you could meet them. Almost. But didn’t. It was impossible, dangerous and probably stupid to expose her friends to her other life in the Twixt. And Monica and Joy’s motto had always been No Stupid.

  “It will only be a moment,” Ink reminded her.

  “If that,” she said, smiling. “I remember.” And took his hand.

  A flick and a swish of citrus-scented breeze and Joy stepped from one world into the next.

  TWO

  THE BAILIWICK’S GRAND brownstone was both impeccable and impressive. Its stone steps were swept clean, the ironwork polished and the miniature evergreens flanking the door had been replaced with urns of hardy bamboo. The stalks rattled in the wind as Ink rapped the brass knocker twice.

  Kurt answered the door in his crisp black suit with white mandarin collar. Joy was overly conscious of her dusty clothes, but she’d arrived in worse states before. The butler stepped aside, making just enough room for Ink and Joy to enter past the bulge of his gun under his jacket. Today, Joy took comfort in Kurt being cautious.

  She was about to say hi but then noticed that they were not alone. A strange woman sat in one of the foyer’s wingback chairs, her fist pulling a hooded cloak tightly around her face. She looked nervous, her yellow-gold eyes wide. A strange sort of squiggle ran along the edge of her jaw. She tucked her feet under her chair, politely allowing Joy to pass, but kept staring at the sword in Ink’s hand. Joy quickly sat in the second wingback chair, noticing that it no longer matched its twin—it had a different, though complementary, floral pattern, and the crystal bowl of eggs was notably missing. Joy wondered if she’d been the cause of both changes to the décor.

  Ink offered Kurt his calling card, but the butler held up a gloved hand and beckoned them to follow. Ink withdrew the card and nodded to Joy. She gave an apologetic smile to the shrouded woman, who’d clearly been waiting there first, and hurried down the sconce-lit hall after them.

  Kurt knocked on the great double doors before throwing them wide. The windows were open, flooding the office with light, and a fresh breeze tickled the gauzy inner curtains. Twin basins of lotus flowers lent a watery scent to the air, and jewel-winged dragonflies hovered over the fat lily pads. Natural light spilled into the room, reflecting off the emerald-green lamp and the crystal bowl of roe, now resting on the Bailiwick’s enormous mahogany desk. The Bailiwick himself stood up from his chair like a giant amphibious king before his court.

  “Master Ink, Miss Malone, welcome.” All four of the great toad’s hands bade them enter. Two smoothed the edge of his tailored, pinstripe suit jacket, erasing an offending crease, while two more gestured to the chairs before him. “Please, sit.”

  Kurt backed out of the room, but as he closed the doors, Joy caught a quick smile and a nod, which made her feel better. His stiff, formal demeanor as butler and bodyguard felt unfamiliar to her now. She’d last seen him on a beach in Mykonos, dunking Invisible Inq in the surf.<
br />
  Graus Claude settled into his high-backed chair, the great wooden throne groaning under his monstrous bulk. “I have directed Kurt to grant you two immediate audience when I am available,” the Bailiwick said. “Given your recent propensity for dramatic and often untidy entrances, I thought it might be prudent.”

  Ink settled into a chair. “Should that be considered a ‘dubious’ honor?”

  Graus Claude smiled, his ice-blue eyes sparkling. “Quite.” One warty olive hand plucked up a fountain pen while a second clicked the wireless mouse and the third and fourth delicately steepled their fingertips together. “Now, then, to what do I owe the pleasure of this nearly pristine visitation?” Joy wiped her hands against her pants and tried not to think about her muddy shoes. “Might I presume that it has something to do with that sword?”

  “Perhaps,” Ink said. “I would like to know if the Edict is still in place. The one protecting Joy?”

  Whatever Graus Claude might have expected, it wasn’t that. His eye ridge rose, exposing widened icy blue eyes. “Of course. Why do you ask?” he said. “Even if we had held you to your declaration that you were no longer formally involved with Miss Malone, the Council’s decision was based on her service to the Twixt and not dependent on her status as your lehman.” His eyes flicked to Joy. “Although there has been no precedent to rescind an offer due to a change in status since the role of a chosen human consort has always been a permanent one.” Graus Claude’s voice purred. “Yet ‘permanence’ does not seem to apply when it comes to you, Miss Malone.”

  Joy twitched, oddly chastised by his stare. Ink placed the sword on the great toad’s desk with a mellow thunk.

  “Joy was attacked this afternoon by one of the Folk bearing this,” he said.

  Graus Claude picked up the sword and examined it with all his hands. “It is an elemental blade,” he said. “It’s old. Poorly kept. Recently discharged...” The Bailiwick’s nostrils flared and he glanced at Joy. “Are you certain this wasn’t simply a threat, Miss Malone? I warned you that there might be those seeking to test your mettle and that you must not rise to the bait. A human provoking one of the Folk has the onus of fault.” His ice-blue eyes blinked. “Do not let them taunt you into ill-advised action.”