Better 'Ink Twice

by Rachel Rawlings

  The vivid swirls of colors completely consumed Nicholas’s eyes. He turned in my direction, burning a hole right through me with that penetrating gaze. I felt like prey; a rabbit caught in a fox’s sights. My heart beat erratically, kicking my fight or flight mechanisms into high gear. Every cell in my body screamed flight because fighting the new and improved Nicholas was not an option. I inched back some more.

  “What did you do to me?” Nicholas’s eyes shifted back to normal. The swirls of green and black evaporating along with the dense fog hovering over the floor. “Something’s wrong.” He sounded pained, like the deaths of the footmen cost him something he’d never get back.

  “I don’t know, Nicholas.” I forced myself to meet his gaze and hold it. “But we’re going to figure it out.”

  Lars stood and brushed dirt from the floor off his jeans. “Adeline didn’t do anything to you that you didn’t ask her to do. She unraveled the ward. Like you wanted. Like your uncle wanted— in case you forgot.”

  I tried to object, to say that I did bear some responsibility. No one forced me to perform the unraveling— this time. Lars would have none of it.

  “Del isn’t some professor on campus. It’s not her job to teach you how to control your magic. You need to figure that shit out for yourself.” Lars offered a hand to Amber and pulled her up to her feet. “Winslow is going to send more footmen when the first group doesn’t check-in. He probably already has. We need to go. Like now.”

  I looked at the bodies littered across the bowling alley. “You know, deep down, I didn’t think it would come to this.”

  “Kidnapping to murder, it’s a slippery slope.” Lars came over and hoisted me up.

  “I wouldn’t call it kidnapping. There wasn’t a ransom.” I used my jeans to clean the dirt and grime off my hands.

  “Semantics.” Lars gave me a pat on the back and nudged me into motion. “Let’s go. Nicholas, come on, man, we have to go.”

  “No.” Nicholas held his ground. “We keep saying we’re done running and then we run some more. And some more. But it stops now. We. Are. Done. Running.”

  “Okay—” I dragged the ‘y,’ elongating the word as I shoved my hands into my back pockets and rocked on my heels. “And what do you propose we do, Nicholas?”

  Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. I repeated it over and over in my head. Willing him not to say those five words.

  “We go to the Magistrate.”

  And he said it.

  Lars rounded on him. “I think Del unraveled more than just your ward. You’re out of your mind if you think we’re just going to waltz in and hand over the strongest death magic I’ve seen in decades. I get that you’re tired of running. I’m not accustomed to it myself, but we are not giving your uncle or the Magistrate what they want.”

  “My uncle has been wasting valuable Magistrate resources. He’s behind Margret’s death and she was a very valuable resource.” Nicholas turned his back to us and walked over to one of the dead footmen. He knelt beside the body and patted it down, retrieving a pair of car keys. “It’s time to storm the castle.”

  “Listen, Nicholas, I want justice for Aunt Margret more than anybody.” Amber wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself. “But they’re not going to just take the word of their prime suspects. We need proof.”

  “I can prove it.” Nicholas moved to the next body, checking pockets until he found a security swipe card.

  “How?” Amber asked, her voice loaded with skepticism.

  “I just need Margret’s body.” Nicholas strode over, casual, like using a body was no big deal.

  It was a huge deal— primarily because I didn’t know it was even possible.

  “He can do that?” I’m not sure who I was directing the question to. Amber and Lars looked as dumbfounded as I felt.

  “You ask that like I hang around death magic all the time. I have no idea what he’s capable of.” Lars stroked his beard. “What the hell. We’ve got nothing else to lose.”

  “Yeah, nothing but our lives.” I took chances all the time, running a razor-thin edge between the mundane tattoo artist I pretended to be and the warder that I am, but none of that held a candle to the new Nicholas.

  I missed the old one.

  Nicholas wanted to steal a Magistrate issued patrol car, use a dead man’s security card, and waltz right back into the place we just broke out of. All to convince the Board of Elders that we were innocent.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “This makes my car look fresh off the lot.” I picked up a greasy burger wrapper and tossed it on the floorboard before sliding into the back seat. “It smells back here.”

  Complaining about the weird smells and abundance of fast food trash in the car was a small distraction from what really bothered me— the fact that we were headed back to the Magistrate. Amber brushed fry crumbs off the faux suede seat cover and buckled herself into the seat behind Nicholas, giving her a clear view of Lars. Where I had a clear view of Nicholas— something I would have normally enjoyed. I mean, the guy was easy on the eyes. But I found myself staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror instead; watching for any signs that his death magic was taking over.

  His eyes stayed an ordinary shade of brown until he caught me watching him. His gaze flicked from the road to me. My chest tightened, breath hitching in my throat as his eyes shifted colors. The seatbelt felt tight; the backseat suddenly too small. My hand was on the door handle, ready to make my escape from a moving vehicle should Nicholas lose control of himself.

  The last thing any of us wanted was to be stuck in a tin can with an out-of-control fledgling death magic user.

  To my relief, he didn’t. Brown swallowed up the black and green until all that remained where tiny flecks of color the iris— a reminder of who and what Nicholas truly was. He turned his attention back to the road while I settled back in my seat and tried to regain my composure. The knowing smile settled on his face wasn’t helping.

  I shifted my focus from Nicholas to the cityscape rushing by outside my window. Raindrops speckled the glass, fracturing the light from the lampposts and neon signs on the storefronts. Despite the early hour, people milled about under umbrellas and huddled together beneath the bus stop enclosures. The city would be waking up soon. Mundanes rushing about their daily lives completely unaware of who else inhabited their city.

  If things went wrong with the Magistrate, if Nicholas’s power fell into the blood-stained hands of Winslow, that could all change. He wouldn’t stop at overthrowing the Council of Elders. No, a man like Winslow never stops because no matter how much power he has, it’s never enough.

  The wrought iron fencing surrounding the campus grounds came into view. In less than a thousand feet, the car would reach the gate. None of us wore glamour. Nicholas assured us it wouldn’t be necessary. I wanted to ask how he was so sure but I also didn’t want to tick him off and end up like the guards back at the bowling alley.

  Our alliance with the new Nicholas was tenuous at best.

  He rolled the car to a stop at the guard shack and flashed the stolen badge. The face of the dead guard smiled back at me through the rearview. “Call Jim. Tell him to gather the Council and let them know who I’ve got with me.”

  The guard hesitated before inspecting the passengers in the car. “You don’t want me to call Winslow?”

  “I don’t work for Winslow.” Nicholas dropped the car in gear. “Just open the damned gate and do what you’re told before you find yourself on extended vacation. And turn off that tv. For the love of the goddess, anybody could just roll through here.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard pushed a red button to raise the bar at the gate. He lifted his cap and scratched his head, a look of confusion on his face— like he was working on a puzzle where the pieces didn’t quite fit.

  I craned my neck to watch the security guard through the back window as the taillights cleared the gate. He locked
eyes with me, mouthed the words ‘you’re dead.’ He raised a hand above his head, holding and invisible rope as his head went slack to one side and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. His mock hanging would have bothered me more if that was actually the Magistrate’s preferred method of capital punishment.

  Being burned at the stake must be harder to mime.

  My review of his performance? The middle finger. The guard doubled over with laughter as he hit the button and lowered the bar to secure the gate.

  Nicholas slowly increased speed and veered left. “Adeline, let’s not draw any more attention to ourselves than absolutely necessary, okay? We need to get in front of the Magistrate before my uncle finds out we’re here.”

  “He started it.” I turned to face forward and stared at the back of the seat as if the herringbone pattern in the fabric was the most mesmerizing thing I’d ever seen. “They’re going to kill us. Well, maybe not all of us,” I muttered.

  There was at least one person in the car too valuable for the Magistrate to execute.

  Amber reached over and rested a hand on my knee. “I refuse to believe the Goddess put all this into motion for it to end now.”

  “She didn’t put it into motion. Winslow did.” I rested my head against the window and traced the Goddess symbol in the fog on the glass from my breath. Amber started to pull her hand away but I grabbed a hold and kept it there. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re right. It’s just... This place.”

  Nicholas slowed the car to a stop in front of an old brick building blackened from weather and soot from vehicle emissions. “This is our stop.”

  He forged ahead with his plan, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car while the rest of us stayed put inside the car. Nicholas opened my door and leaned in to reach over me and press the release button on my seatbelt.

  His warm breath sent chills along my spine as he whispered in my ear, “I won’t let them hurt you, Del.”

  Black and green swallowed up the soft brown of his eyes but I refused to look away no matter how unnerved I was. I accepted his hand as he helped me out of the car and held his gaze. I trusted him this far. There was no turning back now.

  Amber and Lars exited the vehicle and started up the steps with Nicholas and I right behind them. The arched doors opened as we hit the top landing. A young woman, late teens if I had to guess, greeted us from the doorway. She wore simple a simple midnight blue ceremonial robe with no makeup. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun positioned on the top of her head. Everything about her appearance was intentionally unremarkable.

  Except for the Goddess symbol tattooed on her forehead.

  Lars noticed my slack-jawed expression. “Accolade.” He nodded toward the teenager who directed us inside.

  Accolades were dedicated to a lifetime of servitude to the Magistrate at birth. We all heard tales of the accolades but that was supposed to be a thing of the past.

  “They’re still taking little girls?” I asked Nicholas, mortified to learn the Magistrate continued to steal children from their homes.

  I don’t know why these things continued to surprise me.

  “The Magistrate doesn’t take them. They accept them.” Nicholas continued to play his role of double agent. His voice dripped with disdain, spouting Magistrate rhetoric as he led his prisoners inside the council offices. “The Magistrate accepts the unwanted and gives them a purpose.”

  “The unwanted, huh?” I glanced over my shoulder at Lars. “Guess I got off lucky.”

  As if abandonment wasn’t bad enough. When compared to indefinite servitude, I was definitely living my best life.

  The accolade appeared to float across the floor, an eerie illusion created by the length of her robes and the dark color of the carpeting in the hall. She stopped in front of the third room on the left and dipped her head in the direction of the double doors. Nicholas thanked her as she turned and continued down the hallway, disappearing as she ascended a staircase on the right.

  The doors to the council chambers opened and Nicholas led us inside. “Your excellencies.” He bowed in perfect form. His fists clenched behind his back the only indication of the anger and frustration brewing within him.

  The formalities were enough to make me gag. What century we were living in anyway?

  “Mr. Marks, have you come to turn yourself in?” asked a middle-aged woman with wiry raven curls.

  She sat on a dais between to others— an elderly woman and a young lady no older than the accolade who escorted us to the council chambers. The three women, apart from their age, looked identical. Maiden, Mother, and Crone. It took a family with strong genes and a stronger purse to represent the Goddess and her community. I wondered if they left the chamber, if they knew what happened outside the walls they were confined in? From the looks of their pale skin and eyes, I doubted it very much.

  The Maiden eyed Nicholas with interest. She unwrapped him with her eyes faster than a child with the first present of Solstice morning. “There’s something different about you, Nicholas Marks. Your power it—”

  “Let us not be distracted from the reason we’re here, child.” The Crone leaned forward, examining each of us in turn. “All of them stand accused of the murder of Margret Atwood. Not to mention three— or is it four— footmen?”

  “All in good time, Crone,” The Maiden snapped back before jumping out of her seat. She prowled over to Nicholas, smothering him with her body as she pressed her nose against his neck and inhaled. “Like calls to like, Nicholas. You’re stronger than when we were together last.”

  I bristled at the mention of their history. Based on the wicked glint in her eye, I’d say she took notice of my reaction to the way she writhed against Nicholas.

  “Look at me, fresh out of singles and here we are getting lap dances.” It wasn’t until Lars covered his laugh with a bout of coughing that I realized I’d said that aloud.

  “Let’s start with that one.” The Maiden pointed to me before sashaying back to her seat on the dais. “Treason wasn’t crime enough for you, Warder? You wanted to ensure yourself a lead cell by adding murder to the charges?”

  Nicholas intervened. “On the contrary, Elsbeth. Del is no more guilty of the charges you’ve brought against her than I am. My uncle is the only murderer on the campus.”

  “That you know of.” I glared at the Maiden. “I’m sure your ex-girlfriend landed the killing blow to more than one marriage.”

  “I like this one,” The old Crone leaned back in her seat, one side of her mouth upturned in a smirk.

  “Shut up, Del,” Lars muttered under his breath. “You’re not helping.”

  The Mother gripped the arms of her chair. “What proof do you offer the council to substantiate your claims against an upstanding Magistrate member such as Representative Winslow?”

  “Bring me the body of Margret Atwood and you will have your proof.” Nicholas produced a small orb of pulsating green light in his hand as he stepped forward.

  “I knew it.” The Maiden’s chest heaved against the tight bodice of her dress and I hated her a little bit more. “Death magic.”

  The Mother clapped her hands together. An accolade who waited in the wings to be called to service rushed forward and knelt before the head of the council. “Bring the remains of the Prophet Atwood.”

  This place was a house of horrors. Prisons, dead bodies. I hoped Nicholas’s plan worked because I didn’t want to be on campus one second longer than necessary.

  The accolade rushed from the room while others came to take her place. Men and women dressed in black robes with gold trim filled pews on either side of the dais. Representatives. My heart stopped when Winslow walked in. He accessorized his robes with a lackey on each arm. He winked at me as they slid into the front row of the pews on the right side of the room.

  Oh shit.

  “Nicholas?” Lars layered a million questions into his name.

  The accolade returned carrying an urn before Nicholas could answer.<
br />
  “They cremated her?” I couldn’t hide my disbelief. Reading the dead was hard enough, but ashes? That was unheard of.

  Winslow sneered at us from his seat on the wooden bench. Margret was our body of evidence. Literally. Without her, we had nothing. I could almost hear the sounds of the gavel slamming down as the Mother prepared to hand out the council’s verdict. We walked in like a band of fools and gave ourselves up.

  But I wasn’t going down— at least, not without a fight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I pushed my way past Nicholas and charged toward Winslow. After leaping over the banister separating his pew from the rest of the room, I landed in his lap and gripped both sides of his face in my hands. With a call to the Goddess for aid, I pushed magic into his skin and willed him to confess his crimes before the Council. But this wasn’t my area of expertise.

  If I had inks and my machine— maybe. I’d never bound someone to tell the truth but there was a first for everything. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be Winslow.

  His goons jumped into action and dragged me off of him. I managed to get two kicks in before they hurled me over the banister and slammed me against the floor. Lars and Amber were already restrained. Cuffed and shackled in lead. Tears blurred my vision as I watched the two of them struggle against their restraints from the flat of my back. One of Winslow’s men pressed his boot-clad foot against my neck. Yellowed teeth peeked out as his lips curled up in a snarl while he applied more pressure.

  “Yuck it up, asshole,” my words barely audible as I strained my vocal cords to speak. I had one trick left up my sleeve— one I would have rather used on Winslow. With my hand closed tight in a fist, I dug my nails into my skin hard enough to draw blood. I didn’t need much. Just enough to make the mark. Finger slicked in crimson, I slid my hand up his pant leg and drew the hash marks on his shin.

  He hit the floor and the second goon jumped on top of me just as I caught my breath. Precious oxygen rushed out of my lungs as his weight crushed down on my chest. From my peripheral, I caught sight of Lars and Amber as they hit the floor as well.