Ink Exchange (25 page)

Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her over the threshold into a world that was suddenly far more tempting than she’d realized it could be.

C
HAPTER
29

Niall had walked out on his king; he’d failed Leslie; and he’d exposed his doubts and longings to Irial. He hadn’t had such a complete feeling of loss in centuries. He’d spent part of the night and the whole of the day walking aimlessly but had come no closer to any answers or even the right questions.

He’d seen the faeries watching him: Keenan’s and Irial’s and those who were solitary.
Like I am again.
None of them, even those who’d tried to speak with him, had made him pause. Several times he’d had to move them bodily from his path, but he hadn’t spoken a word or registered the words that they spoke.

But then Bananach was swaying toward him, moving like a shadow in the just-fallen night. The long feathers that spilled down her back fluttered and shifted in the breeze. She wore a glamour that made those feathers look like hair,
playing mortal for him as she approached.

He stopped walking.

The smile she offered him was at odds with the malice in her eyes. She passed him, paused, looked back, and beckoned. She did not watch to see if he’d follow her as she walked into a narrow alley partway down the block. She did not glance back as she slipped under the metal fence or as she trailed her fingers over the razor wire that draped the top of that fence. It was only once Niall was standing behind her, like prey foolishly pursuing a predator, that she turned to face him.

Niall wondered if he was following her to his death: it was a fate he had considered and rejected after Irial allowed the Dark Court to torture him.
It wasn’t the right choice then.
Bananach would gladly have taken Niall’s life at the time had Irial not sent her away to indulge in her mayhem.
It’s never the right choice.

But he didn’t retreat.

She leaned on the metal fence, her arm stretched over her head, her fingers curled around the loops in the fence. The barbed steel of the razor wire was just above her fingers, close enough that it looked like she was reaching for the poisonous metal. It was unhealthily attractive to him, her desire to touch pain.

He kept his distance and his silence.

She tilted her head to stare at him. The avian gesture contrasted with the mortal glamour she held on to as she
waited. “Irial needs replacing,” she said.

“And you’re telling me this why?”

“Because
you
can give me change. He’s not right for us. Not now.” Her glamour shivered, flickering in and out. “Help me. Bring me my wars again.”

“I don’t want war. I want…” He glanced away, not knowing what he truly wanted. He’d followed her into a too-small space, pursuing the temptation of her violence.
And leaving Leslie to figure out the impossible on her own if I give in to the temptation of self-destruction.
He’d run away from Irial, from Keenan. He was still running. “I’m not going to help you.”

“Smart answer, pretty boy.” Gabriel appeared beside him. The Hound held an arm out, tattoos racing furiously over his skin, and motioned for Niall to step back. “You need to move along now.”

Bananach snapped her mouth open and closed. Her glamour faded, revealing her sharp beak. “Your meddling is getting tiresome. If the Gancanagh wants to stay with me…”

Gabriel stepped in front of Niall just as Bananach launched herself forward. She shrieked, a sound that might have been laughter or anger or some combination of the two. Her hands were splayed open, her fingertips black talons.

“Court business, Niall. Go on now,” Gabriel said without glancing back.

Gabriel lifted Bananach and hurled her into the metal fence. Her feathers snagged on the razor wire, but she yanked herself away. Shredded feathers drifted to the ground
behind her and were lost on the shadowed pavement.

Niall wanted to leave, to stay, to tell Gabriel to get out of the way so Bananach could end the confusion and depression that had been weighing on him, to tell Gabriel to rip into her. Instead he stood still, watching, no more resolved than he’d been when Bananach had beckoned him to follow her.

It wasn’t truly beautiful to watch Gabriel in action, but there was a brutal harmony in his movements. Like the Summer Girls’ dancing, Gabriel’s fighting had a rhythm to it, a song of its own. But the Hound’s moves were well matched by Bananach’s fury. The raven-woman was gleeful as she darted away and then returned to dive at Gabriel with abandon. From somewhere she drew a bone blade that glowed with preternatural light. Her black-taloned nails stood in relief against white bone and red blood as she slashed Gabriel from his left brow to his right cheek.

The fresh blood drew cries of pleasure from a group of Ly Ergs who filed into the enclosed lot from the street. Their red hands twitched in unison as they began circling Gabriel. They took some of their sustenance from freshly drawn blood, a habit that Niall had found disquieting when he’d learned of it. There weren’t enough of them to overcome Gabriel, but with Bananach there too…
It’s not really my business. It’s Dark Court business. Which is not
my
court.

Niall started to step out of their path, but leaving Gabriel to a half dozen Ly Ergs and a blood-mad Bananach wasn’t something that set well with him. Gabriel’s arrival
had prevented Bananach from seriously wounding or killing him. He owed Gabriel for that. The Hound might not expect it, but Niall expected it of himself. That was one thing he hadn’t lost, his honor.

He threw himself into the fracas—not for a court or a king, but because it was the right thing to do. Standing by while someone—even Gabriel—was outnumbered wasn’t an option.

Niall didn’t worry about consequences as he struck the Ly Ergs. He didn’t worry about where his king was. He didn’t worry about anything. He avoided some but not all of the Ly Ergs’ blows. Although the red-palmed faeries were more concerned with drawing blood than with inflicting permanent injury, they had murdered their share of faeries and mortals over the years.

Bananach darted past Gabriel and caught Niall in the upper abs with the tips of her boots. Searing pain rocked him back as the boots’ poisonous iron cut into his flesh. He stumbled, and she pressed her advantage with a swipe of her blood-soaked talons.

Then Gabriel grabbed her and steadfastly moved their fight away from Niall, back toward the fence, leaving Niall free to deal with the Ly Ergs. It was disturbingly good fun, salve for the gloom Niall had been trying to shake. It didn’t change anything but was refreshing.

By the time Niall had most of the Ly Ergs retreating, Gabriel had bloodied Bananach severely enough that she was leaning against the one Ly Erg who’d held back from
the melee. But even so, she fought until Gabriel punched her hard enough that she swayed backward and tumbled to the ground.

Gabriel told the single unwounded Ly Erg, “Take her out of here before Chela notices I’ve had another tussle with her.” He snarled at the rest of the Ly Ergs, who’d eased closer. “I keep getting into fights with Bananach, Che’s going to get all territorial. Don’t none of us want that, do we?”

The Ly Erg didn’t speak but merely stepped up beside the raven-woman. Bananach rested her head against his leg.

“You’re inconveniencing me, puppy. If necessary, I’ll see the ice queen or the kingling. Someone’s”—she snapped her jaw at Niall in what was either an invitation or a warning—“going to help me get this court set right.”

“Irial said how we’d handle things.” Gabriel stretched out his arms to show the raven-woman the spiraling orders on his skin.

“
Iri
needs to go. He’s in the way and not doing what needs done. War’s what we want. Need some proper violence. It’s too long.” Bananach closed her eyes. “And you following me everywhere’s getting old.”

“So stay put and I’ll stop following you.” Gabriel lowered himself to the pavement with a graceless gesture and began inspecting his wounds. He grimaced, a decidedly unpleasant sight with the blood flowing down his face, as he poked at a gash on his forehead.

The Ly Erg reached an already red hand down to caress
Bananach’s bloody face and arms, nourishing himself on battle blood as his kind had once done on red-soaked fields. His skin shimmered as Bananach’s fresh blood seeped into his palm. Another Ly Erg walked up and laid his hand on Gabriel’s blood-covered face. Despite the fact that they’d all been trying diligently to skewer, maim, and otherwise incapacitate one another mere moments ago, they were almost cordial for a few bizarre moments. The Ly Ergs took the pain and blood into their skin, unmindful of past conflict in the moment of postfight pleasure and sustenance.

Then Gabriel swung at the Ly Erg who stood patting his still-bleeding wounds and said, “Enough. Get her out of here. Maybe you could try being obedient tomorrow?”

“Maybe you should try staying out of my way tomorrow.” Bananach stood and flicked her long hairlike feathers over her shoulder with a look of disdain. She might be bruised and unsteady on her feet, but she wasn’t cowed by anyone. Then, with a solemnity that was as eerie as her violence, she shifted her attention to Niall. “Think about what you want, Gancanagh—what’s
right.
Forgiving the Dark King? Forgiving the Summer King? Or letting me bring you justice, pain, and war, and
everything
you desire. We’d both be happy.”

Once she was out of sight, Gabriel asked, “You might have walked away from Irial, Gancanagh, but do you really want this lot influencing our court? Do you want to
help
her?”

“I’m not getting involved. It’s not my court.” Niall sat
beside the Hound. He wasn’t sure, but it felt like one of his ribs had been cracked.

Gabriel snorted. “It’s yours as much as mine. You’re just too much of an ass to admit it.”

“I’m not like you. I’m not out looking for fights or—”

“You don’t back down from them, though. ’Sides, Irial’s not all about fighting either. That’s why he keeps
me
around.” The Hound grinned and gestured at the shattered windows and cracked bricks. “There’s more to the Dark Court than violence. You bring out another sort of darkness. We both belong in the shadows.”

Niall ignored the implications of Gabriel’s words. “I left the Summer Court. That’s why Bananach was here—because I am solitary, fair game,
prey
.”

Gabriel clasped Niall’s shoulder approvingly. “I knew you’d get it figured out eventually: you don’t belong with them. You get a few more things figured out, you’ll be all right.”

Then he lifted a broken brick and tossed it at a still-lit streetlight. As the glass shattered and clattered to the ground, Gabriel stood and started to walk away.

“Gabe?”

Gabriel’s steps didn’t slow or waver, but Niall knew the Hound was listening.

“I’m not letting him keep Leslie. She deserves a life. Irial can’t take hers like this.”

“You’re still a slow learner, boy.” Gabriel turned back. “She’s part of the court now. Just like you. Been part of it
since that first touch of ink went in her mortal flesh. Why do you think we’re all called to be nearer her? I watched you try to resist it. Like draws to like. You’re both Irial’s, and with her being a mortal…”

Niall froze.

Gabriel gave him a pitying smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over things that are out of your control…or worry so much after the girl. You of all faeries ought to know Iri’s not going to give up on the ones he claims as his own. He’s just as stubborn as you.”

Then the Hound was in his Mustang and vanishing into the darkened street, and for the third time in less than two days Niall was left with answers that did more to confuse him than ease his worries.

C
HAPTER
30

Leslie rolled over, out of Irial’s reach. Despite the vastness of the bed, she still felt too close to him. She’d meant to move several times already, to get up and leave. She didn’t. She couldn’t.

“It’ll get easier,” he said gently. “It’s just new. You’ll be fine. I’ll—”

“I can’t step away. I can’t. I keep telling myself I’m going to go. But I don’t.” She wasn’t angry even now, when her body ached. She should be, though. She knew that. “I feel like I’ll throw up, like if I move too far from you…”

He rolled her back over so she was being held in his arms again. “It. Will. Fade.”

She whispered, “I don’t believe you.”

“We were starved. It’s—”

“Starved? We?” she asked.

He told her what he was, what Niall was, what Aislinn
and Keenan were. He told her they weren’t human, not any of them.

Seth was telling the truth.
She’d known somehow, somewhere, but hearing it said again, hearing it confirmed was horrible.
I am angry. I am afraid. I am…
She
wasn’t
, though, not any of those things.

Irial kept talking. He told her that there were courts and that his—the Dark Court—lived on emotions. He told her that through her he would nourish them, that she was their salvation, that she was his salvation. He told her things that should terrify her, and every time she felt close to afraid or angry he drank it away.

“So you’re what in this faery court?”

“In charge. Just as Aislinn and Keenan are for the Summer Court.” There was no arrogance in his statement. In fact, he sounded weary.

“Am I”—she felt foolish, but she wanted to know, had to ask—“human still?”

He nodded.

“So, what does this mean? What am I then?”

“Mine.” He kissed her to emphasize his point and then repeated, “Mine. You are mine.”

“Which means what?”

He looked perplexed by that one. “That whatever you want is yours?”

“What if I want to leave? To see Niall?”

“I doubt that he’ll be coming to see us, but you can go to him if you want.” Irial rolled on top of her again as he said
it. “As soon as you’re able, you can walk out the door anytime you please. We’ll look after you, keep you protected, but you can always leave when you want to and are able to.”