Insidious. Dawn Metcalf
at all.
“Ink?”
The long-haired woman crossed the room and took Ink into her arms like an old friend. He hugged her politely, not at all like he’d held Joy. He was learning, but his hand lingered on the small of the woman’s back. Joy figured they still had to work on exits.
“Joy, this is Raina,” he said. “Raina, I would like you to meet Joy.”
Raina was stunning—all long limbs and shining black hair and deeply tanned skin. Her smile was winning, radiant, haloed in shimmering gold lipstick.
Joy smiled timidly and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Raina ignored the hand and hugged her, comfortably and sincerely. Her copious hair smelled warm and tropical, as if she’d just flown in from someplace exotic. It parted over her shoulder in a long, glossy sheet, like in a Pantene commercial.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Joy,” she said, pulling back, yet still holding both of Joy’s hands. “I am only sorry that it is under such sad circumstances.”
Joy’s brain struggled to remember where she’d heard the woman’s name before while politely trying to extricate her fingers from the strong, lingering touch. Raina seemed to sense her discomfort and let go as she reached out to stroke Inq’s shoulder. Raina stood very close, as if oblivious to personal boundaries.
“Enrique was the finest among us,” Raina said. “A true treasure.”
Joy felt a frown, but didn’t let it show. Us? Joy could see that Raina was human, her Sight able to pierce things like glamours and the veil. Was Raina being figurative? Or was she like Mr. Vinh, someone with a foot in both worlds? Joy glanced between Ink and Inq, trying to guess. How much does this woman know?
Inq smiled and smoothed a hand over Raina’s hair. “He was a handsome boy with the shiniest toys and was a lion in bed, and I will miss him greatly.” Raina gave Inq’s hand a squeeze, eyes full of sympathy.
“I’ll see you after the reception,” Raina said, and she slipped her arm smoothly into the crook of Ink’s elbow. Joy stared at it. Then stared at them. They made a striking couple. “Mind walking me to my car?” she asked, steering him down the aisle. Raina smiled warmly over her shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Joy.”
And together, she and Ink walked out of the room.
Joy stared numbly—dumbly—after them.
What just happened?
“I need to talk to you,” Inq said, taking Joy’s hand and tugging her closer to the urn. The smell of lilies was overwhelming. Joy’s brain was trying to keep up.
“But...” Joy tried to catch a glimpse of where Ink had gone—with Raina—outside, rewinding time in her mind, sifting through facts like Ink, Enrique, death, numbered hugs, black hair, white lilies and hooked elbows. She struggled to find the puzzle piece that made everything fit, the missing key to making this moment make sense. It wasn’t working.
Joy sneezed.
“Hello? Earth to Joy?”
Grabbing another tissue, she turned to Inq. “What is it?”
Inq lowered her voice. “I want you to kill someone.”
IT TOOK A moment for the words to sink in. Joy ran through them a second time just to make sure she’d heard Inq correctly.
“Um, I don’t think you can talk about killing someone at a funeral,” Joy said, checking discreetly for witnesses. “I’m pretty sure there’s some rule against it.”
Inq sighed. “Look, this sad, sorry ritual has reminded me that we haven’t got much time together,” she said. “I’d forgotten how short human lives can be, and if I’m going to use your help, then we’ve got to act fast.”
Joy gently but firmly removed her arm from Inq’s grip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Inq grinned slyly. “Yes, well, you do and you don’t. That’s why you’re perfect for the job.” She plucked a flower from the arrangement and twirled it slowly in her hands. “I know what you can do, and you know I know what you can do—so don’t disappoint me by being difficult.” She handed the lily to Joy, its stiff petals curled over her palm. “Even without your armor, you’re still a wildflower with bite.”
“Yeah, but I don’t...” Joy’s mouth turned dry, her tongue fat and swollen, the next words solidified, lodged in her throat. She couldn’t say I don’t kill people! because that wasn’t true, and Joy, being part-Folk, could not tell a lie. The fact was, she had done more than kill someone—she had erased one of the Folk completely out of existence. And Inq had seen her do it. It was a secret Inq had agreed to keep “just between us girls.”
“I’ll explain later,” Inq said at normal volume. “Still so much to do! And so little time—isn’t that the theme of the day?” She scooped up the urn in both hands. “See you at the funeral!” she cooed as she skipped down the stairs.
“You mean the reception,” Joy said dully.
Inq waved a hand dismissively over her head. “Oh, don’t be silly,” she said as she strolled down the center aisle. She patted Ink’s arm as she passed through the doors. “See you both later!” She snagged a thin wrap from the coatroom and strutted to the waiting limousine parked out front.
Ink approached, fingers absently sliding along his wallet chain.
“Joy?” he said. “What happened?”
She looked at him blankly. She couldn’t say, exactly, what had happened. Had she just been blackmailed into being Inq’s assassin? Joy couldn’t figure out how to tell him what Inq had said because it didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t lie. She hadn’t told him what had really happened to the Red Knight, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask him who Raina was or why he’d gone with her or what Ilhami was talking about or what Inq was up to this time—it all felt strangely surreal, like an illusion. She shook her head. Only Aniseed could be so cruel.
Joy remembered being trapped in an illusion of her kitchen by the ancient dryad as bait for Ink. Aniseed’s hatred for humans had fueled her plans for worldwide genocide and an imagined “Golden Age.” Joy had been the one to stop her, erasing Aniseed’s signatura and the poison within it. She shuddered at the memory of the eight-petaled star of eyes on her skin. Joy was glad that Aniseed was dead.
She leaned over and put her arms around Ink.
“Can I have another number sixteen, please?”
He slipped his arms around her and they stood together, Ink rocking Joy gently against his chest. She blinked a few times as her breath fluttered. She felt as if she were running in circles while standing still.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.
“Yes,” she mumbled gratefully into his shirt.
He stroked his fingers through her hair and whispered, “Come with me.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the tiny coatroom and shut the door behind them. Joy’s eyebrows shot up.
“This is hardly appropriate,” she said, wondering if funerals brought out the weirdness in Scribes. Maybe immortals didn’t do well when faced with death? Both he and Inq were acting very strange.
Ink smirked as he twirled his straight razor in one hand, looking much as he had when he’d first tossed a jug of milk into the air, slipped thousands of miles away, then stepped