Bound by Ink (A Living Ink Novel) (28 page)

“You have done magic Emanuel can see, but I cannot,” he finished for her.

“Yes. Because you have no magic, you were able to kill the Magic Eater that attacked your friend, Walter,” she said. “If I fail, Uriel will break through into this world. Only people like you will be able to battle and kill his Magic Eaters.”

Ria drew himself upright. “Good hunting,
señora
. You and I do not want me to be this city’s hope.”

She met Master Masatoshi’s gaze. The light cast by her magic highlighted the creases at the corners of his eyes.

“Powerful life force opened this way,” he said, flicking his fingers at the circles and text scrawled around the inside of each of the circles.

“Yes. I closed it three weeks ago, but it did not lock,” she said. “I didn’t know it required another sacrifice.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

“Murmur said . . .”

“When you are on the other side, spilling the life blood that opened this gate will cut your tie to this world. Remember that. This world has a string tied to you. It will guide you home.” He retrieved the vial of bind ink he’d taken from her basement.

“If I kill Uriel, I can’t come back?” she squeaked as he pulled the stopper on the ink.

He flung the contents of the bottle into her face.

Isa gaped, blinking ink smelling of sweet earth and herbs out of her eyes.

“You will . . .” Master Masatoshi began.

Footsteps pounded on the metal deck, echoing through the empty ship.

Emanuel hefted the crowbar from his milk crate, spun on the door, and jammed the mechanism securing the hatch.

The door rattled.

“AMBI!” a male voice, muted by the hull, shouted. “You’re surrounded. Come out with your hands up!”

“Go!” Ria ordered.

Cool, clear magic exploded up from the circles and symbols on the floor. It washed straight through her. Master Masatoshi’s energy effervesced through her awareness. Her feet no longer touched the floor.

She laughed, delighted by the easy duet of power lighting up the portal Uriel had carved into the ship’s deck a month ago. The edges of the outer circle glowed red. Metal stretched like taffy.

The deck beneath Isa fell into the bowel of the ship.

She didn’t.

No sound followed. Not the thunder of metal impacting metal. No more words from the AMBI. Nothing but the rush of hot wind.

Isa did what she intellectually knew she shouldn’t do. She looked down. And saw neither the engine room nor the bilge of a fishing boat.

Darkness punctuated by flickering red-orange lay beneath her feet. Acrid, sulfur-y smoke curled around her ankles, tugging. Pulling her down.

Into hell?

Still buoyed by her Ink Master’s power, she grinned. Hell was no problem. She’d been to Xibalba.

Masatoshi’s magic ebbed as she sank through the portal. Out of her world. Into Murmur’s. Into Uriel’s. Euphoria drained, too.

Isa drew a breath of thick, heated air that stung her throat and lungs. Coughing, she tried to shield. Molten amber crashed through her, searing the pathways that circulated her magic the same way her veins did blood.

Her feet touched ground. Her body, confused by the change of worlds, declined to remain upright. Croaking a protest, she collapsed. Her backpack pulled on her shoulders.

Charred, blackened stone crunched under her weight. It stank of old fire and burning hate. The scent of scorched cotton and the pinpricks of fire digging into her flesh made her yelp. She scrambled upright and shucked her pack to pat out the smoking holes burned into the canvas.

Sweat beaded on her skin. She glanced around, slinging the pack to her right shoulder, then turned a complete circle. Twisted, crumbling stone ruins littered the landscape. Sullen fire ate at the lifeless structures as if gnawing the bones of an old kill. A suffocating pillow of smoke haze pressed the sky down to the tops of the hills surrounding her.

How the hell was she supposed to find Murmur in this?

Wiping away the remnants of the ink Masatoshi had thrown at her, Isa tipped her head to look up.

No portal in the smog. No hint of Seattle.

Only heat seeping through the soles of her sneakers and fear trailing icy fingers down her spine.

She turned to what she knew. Magic. Rather than summoning it, though, she turned inward. The river that usually ran so calmly through her core had risen, churning, frothing over the banks.

She intended to draw up a filament of energy. A flood answered. It slammed into her control, sloshing over the top. Power surged through her body, crashing into bones and piling up against the confines of her skull.

Isa clapped her hands to her head as if that could keep the top from blowing off. Gasping, choking on smoke, she grounded. Once. Twice.

The grit beneath her feet burst into gold flame. It smelled like a prairie fire consuming sagebrush.

Heart pounding, she leaped out of the spreading glow, staring. What did she do when what she’d been taught regarding magic handling no longer applied? Could she shield? Without adding insult to the injury already done this world?

Where was Murmur? She had to find him. Closing her eyes, she dabbled her fingers in the magic eroding her, and pictured him, concentrated on tasting smoky caramel. The smoke part was easy.

She fed her desire to find him into the power rushing through her. It ripped her intent from her psychic grasp, and sent it tumbling away on the violent surge.

Her heart stumbled.

In this world she couldn’t even trust the most intrinsic part of herself. Clenching her fists, Isa opened her eyes, picked a direction that looked the least obstructed by the corpses of the city, and started walking.

Which turned into scrambling.

As the landscape climbed, her sneakers found no purchase on the loose rubble. Panting in shallow sips, trying to keep the grit and burning smoke from the depths of her lungs, Isa achieved the top of a low rise. Her pulse beat in the drum of her head.

She crouched in the middle of what might once have been a street, hoping that the lower layers of air would be easier to breathe. Cooler maybe.

The heat emanating from the mortally wounded land dashed her hopes. Eyes watering, she dropped her forehead to her knees.

She offered up a mental apology to the gods of Xibalba. Terrifying as their realm had been, this was worse. At least she’d had a path through the murderous trials of Xibalba.

In this dying world, she could wander the rest of her life searching for Murmur without . . .

Silver flashed.

She jerked upright. A shining column of light beckoned, a quarter of a mile to her right.

Uriel.

Sweet caramel burst across her senses.

“Murmur.”

Black power slammed her into a stone wall three feet behind her. Some living thing in the wreckage at her back screamed and fled in a flurry of claws screeching on stone. A rock the size of her head crashed to the charred ground beside her.

“Ow. Damn it, Murmur.”

Pain and seething hatred not her own crushed her into the rubble. Inky fear, like clawing tree branches, twisted up through the gold of her magic.
Fear for her
.

How did she know that? How had his magic affected her from so far away? Isa struggled to her feet.

Her backpack lay in smoking tatters. It had taken the brunt of her impact. Crystal glinted, reflecting the red embers still smoldering in the canvas. Her binding ink. She grabbed it. Her only weapon. Or was it her only defense?

Where she’d hit the rock wall, stone had melted. It glowed and seeped like tears down the sagging façade.

Wheezing, chest aching as she fought for breath, Isa fastened her gaze on the pillar of silver lighting up a swath of hell. Her lips lifted in a silent snarl.

The black talons of Murmur’s concern caught hold of a solid bit of her psyche and began digging.

She yelped. How in hell was he doing that? Molten gold magic, channeled by a shadow of Murmur’s power, spilled into the fresh wounds. Her breath hissed in between her teeth at the discomfort. Then what he was trying to show her registered. Magic in his world required surrendering control. No taming it or herself. Diametrically opposed to everything she’d ever been taught.

Shaking, Isa surrendered to the undertow of power. It surged, an unstoppable tide, rising over her head. She floundered. The flood buoyed her upright and snatched her into a powerful current tumbling toward Murmur as if he were the sea to which she returned.

Gold fire sprang up beneath her every step.

Satisfaction, seasoned with dark barbs of worry, ghosted through her awareness. Muscles trembling as if her power drew across the strings of her sinews like a bow, Isa strode through the ruins without taking her gaze from the flare of Uriel’s magic.

As she closed the distance, she caught sight of white-winged creatures circling Uriel’s beacon. They reminded her of oversized barn owls. She knew better.

Magic Eaters.

Her mouth went dry. No looking at them. She fastened her gaze on the broken ground in front of her feet.

“At last.” The mellifluous baritone stopped Isa in her tracks. A shiver wracked her and the uncontrolled flood of magic sank into the barren ground of her fear.

She wavered on the edge of what might have once been a square marred by what looked like an impact crater. The open space fronted an enormous pile of blasted-down, pulverized rock. The surfaces of the shattered stone gleamed, reflecting Uriel’s spotlight.

He stood, basking in his own radiance. He’d flung his shining white wings wide, and tipped his beautifully sculpted features skyward.

Isa’s grimy, ink-stained fingers convulsed on her vial of binding ink.
Where was Murmur?

She’d been so sure she’d find him when she found Uriel.

White, orange-eyed Magic Eaters fluttered, diving, as if trying to trick her into looking at them.

“Is this what you seek?” Uriel inquired. He gestured.

Murmur rose from the gravel and dust, wings limp. His true form jutted from Daniel’s body as if Murmur could no longer be contained by the smaller, human body. Or as if Daniel’s corpse rejected Murmur’s invasion. Thick, black liquid dripped from his dangling feet.

Catching in a breath, her gaze locked on Murmur, she stumbled a step toward him before checking the impulse.

Uriel held Murmur in the tight fist of his power. His creatures soared lower. Screeching and hooting, they circled Murmur, forcing Isa to turn her eyes away.

She sucked in a rasping breath, wanting to shout at Murmur to close his eyes. He wouldn’t. Not her arrogant demon. Not when his emerald gaze touched her like a heated caress.

“Fear not for my old adversary. He sheds a little blood. A minor thing. He deserves so much more torment,” Uriel said, his smile unctuous. “But today, he is little more than bait. By all means, come closer. Much closer.”

In the shine of Uriel’s magic and ego, Isa caught sight of the dribbles of binding ink fading from her sweatshirt and jeans. The moisture hadn’t evaporated. It spread still, creeping through the fibers of her clothing. Dampening her skin. Or was that fear sweat?

“Poor Murmur,” Uriel crooned. “Always the means to my end.”

“Your end,” Isa said, “is my intent.”

He laughed.

Isa had to swallow the urge to spit.

“You are mine. You always have been. Everything I’ve done since you killed the original owner of this body”—he shook Murmur like a rag doll—“has brought you to heel. Now. You will be my door.”

“No,” Murmur snarled. Magic seethed from him, swarming over the ground, knocking Magic Eaters tumbling and shrieking. Inky power swept up her legs to kiss her skin and linger at the scar on her throat.

Uriel snorted and clenched a fist.

Something popped. A hoarse cry broke from Murmur’s throat. Shadowed magic collapsed.

Isa staggered. “Let him go.”

Uriel’s gaze fastened on her. Cold. Inhuman.

“Let him go and I’ll surrender,” she amended, voice shaking.

His fingers of silver magic loosened.

Murmur groaned.

“You are mine already,” Uriel said. “But to have your surrender . . . Yes.”

She popped the top from her ink vial.

“Come,” he ordered, tightening his fist again. “Or I crush your filthy demon.”

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “I’m yours. To do with as you please.”

Uriel’s nose wrinkled in disgust before calculation smoothed the crinkles from his perfect face. “You’ll betray your lover’s trust. With me. Just like his last female did.”

So that’s what had happened. Taking shallow sips of air so she wouldn’t give in to the urge to vomit, Isa inclined her head. “Yes.”

Murmur howled. Magic boiled out of him.

Uriel took his eyes from her. He laughed, strode to the rim of the crater, and dangled Murmur above what looked like a sarcophagus of golden stone. He threw Murmur into the box.

Arms, wings, legs, and talons overflowed the impossibly tiny stone construct.

The bottom dropped out of Isa’s stomach.

“Don’t,” she breathed. “Don’t close him in there. Not again. Please, it hurts.” Stupid thing to say. Stupid to thing to do, appealing to a monster.

“Of course it’s going to hurt.” Uriel smirked and slammed the lid, purposefully askew, grinding Murmur’s wings. Shattering the bones in Daniel’s legs.

Cackling Magic Eaters dove, making a game out of tagging Daniel’s twitching boots with clawed wingtips while Uriel chuckled.

Gasping, heart in her throat, Isa poured binding ink over her head, then on unreasoning impulse, put the bottle to her lips and tipped the last dregs of herbs, alcohol, pigment, and magic into her mouth. She dropped the vial and swiped the back of her hand across her lips. No telltale trace of black.

Uriel turned his attention to her. “Have no fear. I won’t seal him in. Not yet. I want him to savor your screams.”

Heart pounding, her breath shallow, Isa forced herself to take a step in his direction.

Murmur roared.

Tears that wouldn’t fall flooded her eyes. The moisture fractured her vision until she stared at multiple images of Uriel. It was an echo of Xibalba and the court of the gods of the dead. Which one was real? Which one was she supposed to surrender to? What kind of punishment would he visit upon Murmur when she guessed wrong?

What did it say that at this late date, she realized she preferred the cruel gods of Xibalba to Uriel? They were straightforward in their greed for blood and emotional sustenance from their followers.

Uriel had taken purity to a horrifying, heartless extreme. He’d twisted good into something that crossed the line into unspeakable evil.

“Crawl, filth,” Uriel commanded, returning to center of the crater and his spotlight.

A flash swept her from her feet, crushed her to the burning, sulfurous grit. She crawled down the hill. Inside the crater where Uriel stood, the soil turned to mud.

From blood?

She inched closer.

“So slow,” Uriel taunted. “Frightened, filth? Or do you not care for your beloved demon, after all?”

Murmur wheezed.

It sounded so much like the sound of pain he’d made in her vision that she had to bite back a scream of protest. She writhed closer. Despair ate holes in every last scrap of her resolve.

Too slowly, too soon, Isa groveled at Uriel’s pristine bare feet. They didn’t touch the mud. He wanted her subjugated? Fine. She twisted her neck to lay her cheek against the top of his foot.

He sidestepped with a sound of disgust.

She landed in the mud.

Magic jerked her upright. Mud slid down her clothing, landing in grotesque plops beneath her feet. Uriel scrunched his nose in disgust.

“I refuse to sully myself with you.”

The tattered, sagging rag of hope lifted in her breast.

“Save that violating you torments him and that is my only savor.”