Invisible

by Dawn Metcalf

  Monica? Joy didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. She tucked the phone back into her pocket. Monica was as far from her as Mars.

  Ilhami pulled the zippers of the backpack and gave a low whistle.

  “Would you look at that?”

  “Yes,” Enrique muttered as he poured a cup. “All up your nose.”

  The air wobbled and warped as someone entered the room wearing a long black evening dress slit up the leg. Inq grabbed Ilhami’s shoulders and turned him around, smoothing a hand over his bare chest and holding his chin, inspecting his eyes one at a time.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He answered, contrite and childlike. “Evet.”

  Inq kissed him once, like a tender threat, and released him.

  “Go sleep it off.”

  Without a word, Ilhami walked into the back of the apartment. Joy heard a door click closed.

  Inq nodded to Enrique. “Thank you, Enrique.” He gave a noncommittal sound. She smiled with pride as she crossed the room, arms outstretched. “Joy,” Inq said and lifted her to her feet. Joy didn’t protest and simply stared as she slowly recognized the familiar black-eyed, heart-shaped face. Inq touched the side of Joy’s cheek. Joy barely felt it. She felt strangely outside her body, watching things happen to it from somewhere far away.

  Inq sighed and called over her shoulder. “How is she?”

  “Most likely in shock,” Enrique said as he returned with a smooth ceramic mug. “It’ll wear off soon enough and then there’s bound to be weeping and screaming and the like. I’ll get a towel.” He gestured with the steaming cup. “She was brave enough, but completely unprotected. We should never have sent her in there.” He pressed the drink into Joy’s hands and curled his fingers around hers. She saw all the lines in his knuckles bend smooth as pearls. That’s what she’d been attempting to show Ink: knuckles needed ridges that could smooth out and reform. She stared up at Enrique, wondering how she could explain why this was important and how to thank him for showing her precisely what she meant, but his eyes looked worried and guilty and old so she stayed silent.

  “I’m so sorry, Joy,” he said. “I would never have asked you if I’d known.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Inq said. “Of course she has a glyph. Ink protects her like a lion.” She held her hand before her eyes and inspected Joy through the space between her fingers. Inq frowned delicately and dropped her hand. “My brother is an idiot.”

  She circled Joy with measured steps, her high heels tapping on the hardwood, and pulled back her hand as if singed. “What...?” She touched Joy’s shoulder, tracing her finger along the bulge of Joy’s spine, stopping at her bra strap. Joy remembered that was where the ghostly mark burned. She suddenly felt a cold fire. Joy turned around. Inq’s eyebrows asked a question. Joy said nothing.

  “Can we borrow your guest room for a bit?” Inq asked politely.

  “Of course,” Enrique said and shared a slow kiss with Inq, hand resting gently on her hip where the slit in her skirt began. She ended it with two pecks, one on his bottom lip and one on the top.

  “Thank you, baby,” she said as she took Joy’s hand and led her down the hall. Halfway there, the heat from the mug registered. Joy quickly switched hands.

  “They shot Ilhami,” she said. The cup in her hand shook.

  “I know,” Inq said. “Serves him right.” She pushed open the door to a neat little room with a wide bed tucked with sharp military corners and stylish silver-gray pillows spread along the headboard. The fixtures were sleek and silver, the vertical blinds alternately black and pale gray. Even the lamp looked built for speed.

  “Sit down,” she said. Joy sat. Inq brushed back her hair. “Do you want your tea?”

  Joy looked at the mug in her hand. “No.”

  Inq took the steaming cup and put it on the nightstand, then sat gently next to Joy. She spoke as if Joy were frightened, but she wasn’t frightened—she was numb.

  “I thought that I had found a neat solution to our little problem with Ilhami, but I had never considered the possibility that Ink hadn’t given you protections. I knew he didn’t want you to wear his signatura, but I thought he’d at least give you a shielding glyph.” She gave a sigh that strained her dress top. “I admit, I didn’t think to ask, but then again, I never thought he’d be so careless.”

  “He did give me something,” Joy said, moved to defend him even though she felt like screaming. “A pendant. It broke when I was attacked last time.”

  Inq cocked her head. “Who attacked you?”

  “That guy in the suit of armor,” Joy said.

  “Him again?” Inq said, sounding surprised. “I thought Ink killed him once already.”

  “He did.” Joy didn’t want to think about that. She could hear the clanking footsteps, the sound of swords hacking through briars, the rush of blood in her ears. “Ink went to ask Graus Claude about it. He thinks the knight was hired by the Tide.” The Tide. Even the word sent a quivery chill through her limbs. To know there was a group of people out there that hated her enough to try and kill her...

  “The Tide?” Inq waved her hand dismissively. “Pshht. They know the Edict better than most and follow it to the letter, if only to prove to the rest of us that they can. Higher and mightier are the zealots! However, Ink knows that any charm can be broken,” she said. “I meant that he should have drawn one on you. That’s what we do, after all, but instead of using signatura, we can use protective glyphs, like wearing a ward on your skin. A personal shield.”

  Joy blinked. “That...sounds like a good idea.”

  “I’d like to think so,” Inq said, smirking. “It was my idea. But let’s ask Ink before we do anything, shall we? Asking permission first would be polite.” She winked one all-black eye lined in thick lashes. “You’re not even a little bit mine, anymore.” Inq placed a hand low on her belly and Joy knew the three concentric circles of Inq’s signatura would be there. That mark had once flared on Joy’s bottom lip.

  A rent flashed in the air and Ink stepped out of nothing, taking in Inq and Joy and the contents of the room.

  “This is New York,” he said.

  Inq nodded. “Enrique’s apartment in Battery Park.”

  “What is Joy doing in Enrique’s apartment in Battery Park?”

  “The boys needed a little help with an errand,” Inq said. “The better question is why isn’t Joy protected with a Tyche glyph?”

  Ink’s voice darkened. “And why would Joy need a Tyche glyph?”

  “Because there’s an armored knight trying to kill me!”

  Joy’s words exploded out of her mouth and with them came feelings. It was as if a heavy blanket had been thrown off her shoulders, leaving her shaky and hot and cold and bright. She felt suddenly naked, exposed to the world. The reality of the past hour burst through her skin. Her teeth chattered. Her eyes stung. Ink knelt next to her, concerned.

  “Did he come again? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Tears flung from her eyes. “No.”

  Inq placed a gentle hand on Joy’s shoulder. “Honestly, Ink, have I taught you nothing about keeping your lehmans alive?”

  Ink growled, “She is not my—”

  “You know what I mean,” Inq said. “Joy is your love, not your harem girl. I know the difference,” she said smoothly. “It is the difference between Kurt and the boys.”

  “I thought the pendant would be enough,” he said earnestly, smoothing a hand over Joy’s trembling arm. “I’d purchased another. And...I did not want to mar your skin.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, eyes on her veins. “Remember, my marks are meant to be seen—I would have had to draw something like a birthmark or a scar, something every human might notice. And I am no expert—I know how to ward a place but not a person. A glyph might have been hard to ex
plain.”

  “Oh, really, now,” Inq said, exasperated. “I’m all for aesthetics, but you put Joy at considerable risk out of vanity?” She threw up her hands, sparkling with black polish and diamonds. “You could have simply asked me.”

  Ink glanced at his sister. “Asked you what?”

  “To draw on her for you, of course,” Inq said. “Unlike you, I am an expert—I know a thing or two about personal wards. And my marks are invisible, so no one will see them, and since they are protections, she will be left unclaimed. Unmarred.” She smiled at Joy. “Still pretty as a primrose.”

  “A wildflower,” Joy mumbled. “With bite.”

  Ink’s hand tightened on Joy’s knee. “You would do this for me?”

  “Anything for you,” Inq said and glanced to Joy. “And certainly this for her. What kind of sister do you take me for?” She swatted her brother lightly. “Joy is one of us, after all. She’s family.”

  Ink leaned closer to Joy. She could smell his clean scent of rain.

  “Do you want this, Joy?” he asked. “Inq can protect you in ways I cannot.”

  Joy nodded as if the nodding would never stop. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, please!” Knowing in the back of her mind that anything Inq did to her could be undone made her feel less vulnerable, more in control. While Invisible Inq had shown her every kindness since taking down Aniseed, Joy had never felt on settled ground with the wry and reckless Scribe. Inq wasn’t above getting Joy into trouble; in fact, she seemed to enjoy it a little too much.

  “Very well,” Ink said. “Thank you.”

  Inq clapped her hands and bounced on the bed, making her breasts jiggle. “Excellent!” she said and pulled Joy’s sleeve. “Now strip!”

  Joy snapped out of her fog. “What?”

  “Fine, spoilsport, you can just take off your shirt and lie down on the bed,” Inq said as she kicked off her high heels and hiked up her dress then crawled over the mattress toward Joy. “I’m going to draw it on your back since it’s been such a tempting target.”

  Glancing at Ink, Joy hesitated, twisting her fingers in the edge of her shirt. Inq looked back and forth between them and smirked.

  “Oooh! Do I get first peek?” Inq laughed and bounced on her knees. Ink opened his mouth, but his sister pushed him toward the door. “Go on, shoo!” She hugged Joy around her shoulders and rested her chin near Joy’s ear. “This is between us girls.”

  Ink ducked his head and smiled. Dimples appeared.

  “Do not let her get too carried away,” he said to Joy. “Only for protection, you hear?” he warned his sister and slipped into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  Inq waited for the click. “He doesn’t know.”

  “Know what?” For a split second, Joy was completely serious.

  Inq made a face and tugged impatiently at Joy’s shirt. “Take this off and show me what that is on your back.” Joy hesitated only a moment, then pulled her shirt over her head and turned her back to Inq. The Scribe considered the blurred mark in silence.

  “Whose is it?” she said.

  “I have no idea,” Joy said. “All I know is I can’t remove it.”

  “Really?” Inq said, leaning out of the light. “Hmm. Lie down.”

  Joy stretched out on her stomach and grabbed a pillow to prop under her armpits, her breasts smushed against the decorative buttons. She felt Inq’s all-black eyes searching her bare skin. It was too quiet for too long.

  “Is it a signatura?” Joy asked.

  Inq considered it. “If it is, it’s like none I’ve seen before. And that’s saying something.”

  Joy sighed. Her belly sank into the mattress. “Graus Claude said the same thing.”

  “You’ve shown him?”

  “I thought maybe he’d recognize it,” Joy said. “He says he has records of all the Folk who have ordered your marks.”

  “Does he now?” Inq said slowly. “And Ink hasn’t seen it yet?” Joy shook her head. Inq chuckled. “Well, obviously not. He hasn’t seen much of anything under that shirt, has he?” Joy felt Inq’s finger trace her spine, the tickle of her breath as she leaned closer. The sheets whispered under the shifting weight. “Mmm. Shame. You have very soft skin.”

  Joy swallowed a squeamish flutter. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Inq said. “Don’t worry, Joy. You’re not my type.” Joy could picture Inq’s face as she smiled and withdrew.

  “So what do you think it is?” Joy said to cover her awkward embarrassment.

  “Well, I don’t think it’s a signatura. And I should know,” Inq said, rubbing her palms to make them warm. “It’s my job, after all.”

  “Well, what is it then?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe a marker? Like tagging a bear for later study. Or, in your case, a mouse.” Joy frowned and Inq raised her palms in mock innocence. “It’s just a splash. Signaturae were developed to replace True Names, and that takes a complicated ritual involving lancing Folk with alchemical fire and asking them to offer up a token of themselves to seal the magics—it’s a requirement, and not something taken or given lightly.”

  “A requirement?” Joy said into the pillow. “You mean it’s forced?”

  “Everyone had to do it. Everyone in the Twixt,” Inq said. “Everyone but Ink and I.”

  Joy twisted around to look at Inq. “Why not you?”

  Inq smoothed her hands over Joy’s back. Her fingers, devoid of ripples or fingerprints, slid frictionless as feathers. “Like Ink told you, we were made, not born,” she said. “Our signaturae were designed along with our bodies. We didn’t have to give up anything because we aren’t Folk. We are their instruments, created with one purpose in mind—to draw signaturae on humans in their stead.” She stroked her palms over the mark on Joy’s back. There was a cool tingle like snowflakes. “You don’t ask a paintbrush to give up its bristles.”

  Joy tried not to think about the slippery satin feel of Inq’s inquisitive hands. “So what kinds of things do the Folk give up?” Joy asked. “You and Ink didn’t have to give up anything—what about Kurt?”

  Inq pressed her fingers against Joy’s spine. “Kurt’s human.”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of,” Inq admitted.

  “Well, what about Graus Claude?” Joy said. “What did he have to give up?”

  Joy felt Inq trace the blurry glow with her fingertips, exploring its edges. “I don’t know. It’s an interesting question, but it’s considered impolite to ask,” she said. “Sort of like ‘what color is your pubic hair?’” Inq grinned. “So what color is your pubic hair?”

  Joy tried to act unruffled, half-naked on a stranger’s bed. “None of your business.”

  “See what I mean?” Inq said. “Well, whatever this thing is, it looks...sloppy, unfinished. Perhaps it has to set first before you can erase it?” She slid her hands over Joy’s back like smoothing a canvas flat. It was a rich, liquid feeling like swallowing warm custard. “What were you doing when you noticed it?”

  “I noticed it after I did some flips in the grass,” Joy said quickly, feeling more exposed by the minute as Inq’s fingers roamed lower. “After we washed my car. After I talked to my mom.”

  “Those hardly seem the sort of things that qualify under an auspice,” Inq said. “It somehow lacks the drama of being claimed by one of the Twixt.” She shifted on the mattress. “Then again, what do I know? Perhaps someone claims to be the guardian spirit of used vehicle maintenance? Or the solemn sisterhood of grass acrobatics?” Her voice held a tickle of laughter. “Or perhaps they realized who you were a tad too late and wisely withdrew before finishing up. In any event, I wouldn’t worry about it—no one but Ink and myself and those with the Sight can even see it. An unfinished claim will simply fade over time. Now let’s see,” she said as
she straddled Joy’s waist. The bed sank deeper, pushing Inq’s knees against Joy’s ribs. Joy hugged the pillow tighter and tried not to freak out. “Don’t worry—you won’t feel a thing. But lie still. Even if others can’t see it, I take pride in my work.”

  Joy gasped as a warm heat touched her back, radiating out from where Inq’s palms rested against her skin. The sensation sank deeper into her body, a low buzz of warmth spreading under her shoulder blades, dripping down her ribs and pooling in a bead behind her navel. Inq moved her fingers. Joy felt her insides squirm. The almost-heat traced inquisitive tendrils through her muscles, pouring liquid light slowly through her torso and limbs. Inq gently nudged Joy’s organs, weaving around her kidneys and stomach, her heart and lungs, her intestines and groin and tracing the insides of her thighs down to her toes. It became difficult to breathe—the air suddenly heavy and thick—before the tension snapped; the smothering weight lifted like champagne bubbles frothing out the top of her head. Joy half imagined a hissing whisper off her scalp and lips and ears. Her eyes fluttered as she took a deep breath.

  Inq lifted her fingers from beneath Joy’s skin.

  “There now,” Inq said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Joy’s lungs pressed against her rib cage as she took a deep breath, pushing Inq’s knees wider. Inq sat on the small of her back.

  Joy blinked back winks of firefly light and wet her lips.

  “How...how does it look?” Joy asked for something to say.

  Inq leaned forward, taking her weight off Joy’s hips, and lightly touched the length of her spine. The Scribe whispered against Joy’s ear.

  “Beautiful,” she said. Joy tried to look at Inq, but she was pinned. Inq giggled and climbed slowly off Joy. The sudden lack of weight and heat left its mark, cool against the open air. Joy’s body was slow to move, woozy and warm.

  “That should be enough to counteract your basic gunfire and blast damage, but blunt impacts can still hurt. I can’t do much about mortal physics.” Inq tugged her dress back into place and regarded Joy clinically. “It’s too bad we don’t have more glyphs,” Inq said. “I bet I could protect you from whatever the Tide could throw at you.”