Soul Ink

by J. C. Nelson

  “And then what?” Ari opened the door, letting normal light destroy the Vision Room’s view of her. “I can use real magic?”

  “Wild magic, princess.” Grimm took on his principal tone.

  “You mean seal magic,” I said. “From the realm seal.”

  “No.” Grimm took off his glasses. “Seal magic is supplied by realm seals to their bearers. It is limited but holds no danger. Wild magic is all around us, unlimited, and many a woman has learned to twist its power. But it comes at a price. Those who use it are marked as witches, their eyes forever scarred yellow.”

  Ari put her hand on her heart. “Then why would I use wild magic at all? I want to get better. Not worse.”

  “It’s perfectly safe, princess,” said Grimm. “When you learn to mix the two, a trace amount of seal magic can allow you to wield untold quantities of wild magic safely. Your power will be limited only by your own reserves and your bond to the realm seal.”

  From what I’d seen, nothing made Ari happier than visiting her seal. I swear she scheduled her visits to avoid unpleasant tasks, like weekly visits to the wolf village in Jersey. Visits that went a lot better since I learned to pack bacon bits as well as bullets. I rubbed my arm, noting the tattoo had grown to cover my forearm. “Back to me. How can I get rid of this?”

  “My dear, are you regretting your bad decision already?” Grimm didn’t bother trying to hide the glee in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll find a way to purge the ink. The fact that it hasn’t locked into a shape means it can still be removed.” Grimm frowned and then scratched his chin. “We may have another problem though.”

  “Such as?”

  “It is vital that you do not cause the tattoo to grow any further. On the fae, this ink is bound into patterns which channel power. The human body is simply not capable of holding the spells in check, so it is free to roam.” Grimm motioned for me to hold my arm up for a closer look. “I fear that if it grows large enough, it may decide that it is quite comfortable running the show. Unless you want to be a puppet in your own body—”

  “Got it.” The chills running down my spine didn’t reach to my arm. “How long do I have?”

  “There’s no time limit. Simply don’t exercise the strength it gives you,” said Grimm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need—”

  Grimm disappeared from the mirror like a switch flipped, turning him off. Not that I worried about him often. According to Grimm, he’d survived several eternities and could take care of himself.

  “You know what I’m thinking?” Ari picked another dried glob from her hair. “I’m thinking the health club has showers. Want to work out?”

  I shook my head. “I already got my upper body in for the day. But a shower? You’re on.”

  • • •

  Few things made me happier than attempting to boil myself alive. No more cherub gore. No mana clinging to places I’d rather not have it. But few things made me less happy than stepping out of the shower and finding the Fairy Godfather in my dressing mirror.

  “Go. Away.” I picked up a can of deodorant, threatening the mirror.

  “It’s an emergency. Really, do you believe I’m interested in the particulars of your dress?”

  I once had the bright idea to wear a mirror charm around my neck, which lasted only as long as it took him to point out his view consisted of my limited cleavage and nothing else. “Yes. What do you want?”

  “I was contacted again,” said Grimm. “It’s not a pleasant experience, and I’ll have you know I made it clear that last job went far beyond the bounds. But we have another infestation, and this one is new. Fresh.”

  With my towel tucked around me, I could safely concentrate on something that had been bothering me. “Someone chained the doors to that church. With enchanted chains. What does that tell you?”

  “A great deal,” said Grimm, “but I assure you, the newest infestation is not closed to the public. If an innocent wanders in there, they will, as you did, spend the rest of their limited life appreciating its wonders.”

  Ari trotted around the corner, where she’d been using the blow dryer to turn a wet mess of red hair into a fluffy mess of red hair. “Hey, when I said out of my mirror, I didn’t mean into Marissa’s. Now what was that freaky thing in the chapel? Some sort of satanic ritual?”

  Grimm glanced around, making sure we were alone, even though no one else would be able to see him. “Cherubs accompany other inhabitants of Paradisia. They feed off the scraps of higher beings’ tables. So given the number present, I suspect an angel made itself at home for an extended time.”

  I tried to piece it together. “The burned area looked like hellfire. Demons drove the angel out?”

  “Perhaps,” said Grimm. “For this next one, perhaps going better armed would help.”

  Ari nodded. “This time around, I’ll be slinging lead, not spells.”

  We stopped by the Agency, where Ari kept her handgun in the vault. If she’d bought something that fit in her purse, she could carry her gun with her. I packed six clips of ammo labeled “angel” into my purse and lead the way. This time, we took an Agency convertible.

  Grimm bought convertibles because I’d lost count of the number of times we needed to haul someone who couldn’t fit in a normal vehicle. Also, he got them cheap from people who discovered that it snowed six months out of the year here, and rained garbage when it wasn’t snowing.

  Grimm gave directions as we went. “You’re looking for the Church of Modern Day Apology.”

  I glanced in the mirror. “Apostology, you mean.”

  “I’m sorry, Marissa, but you are incorrect.” Grimm’s smile said he’d been waiting for me to step in that. “My sources say the infestation broke out only hours ago. This time, I’ll veil your sight before you enter. We’ll have no mistakes.”

  I patted the blowtorch sitting beside me. “Burn it down first, investigate later.”

  Grimm’s image flickered. “N-No. My orders are explicit: We need to see what is inside first. What came through.”

  I ran through my knowledge of angelic creatures, most of whom were movie stars. “Another flock of pigeon babies?” I had made it through volume C of the Beast Lexicon, but there were subjects I cared about (sleep) and those I hadn’t made a priority (cherubs, angels, and come to think of it, most everything else in the lexicon).

  “One can only hope,” said Grimm.

  The Church of the Modern Day Apology apparently believed in pre-built metal buildings, neon crosses, and that God quite possibly was a woman. While the preacher and his flock weren’t present, whoever had done the mural out front definitely owed the world an “I’m sorry” at least forty feet long and twenty feet high.

  “I didn’t know that feeding people pizza was a biblical miracle,” said Ari. “Who’s the NFL player?”

  I pointed to his back. “Saint Peter, judging from his jersey. Grimm, what are we going to find?”

  “I’d be lying if I told you I knew. I have a feeling my contract handlers have no idea either. I mentioned my theories about an angelic crossover and our conversation ended. Are you ready for me to veil your sight?”

  I nodded. “Do it.”

  The world shimmered, then reappeared in exactly the same state as before.

  “Go on,” said Ari. “Get it over with.”

  “I already did. With no preconceived notions in your head, I needn’t be theatrical.” Grimm’s smug confidence in his own magic shone through. I had more confidence in gunpowder and steel. It was my kind of magic. I opened the door to the church and stepped inside.

  “Unlocked,” said Ari. “Is that good or bad?”

  I shrugged. “Depends on whether or not it’s unlocked because whatever is inside doesn’t feel threatened, or unlocked because the people inside fled and didn’t stop to lock it, or if whoever w
as inside never made it out.”

  “So it’s basically bad regardless.”

  “Yep.” We passed through the lobby of the church without so much as a pause. No cherubs. No cancerous growths other than the wall hangings, which were standard prints of cats lounging or sleeping. Nothing. “Grimm, this place is deserted.”

  “I doubt that very much,” said Grimm. “If you could see what I see, you would know better. What’s behind that door?”

  I looked at the nameplate. “Inner sanctuary.”

  “Let’s do this.” Ari held up her Desert Eagle pistol. Her clips held a combination of hollow point, armor piercing, and explosive bullets. “It’s payback, birdies.”

  I threw the door open, ready for almost anything.

  With the key being almost. The ravens the size of model planes didn’t bother me one bit. Cherubs disguised by Grimm’s magic, no doubt. I blasted the first two without even blinking. And then my gaze locked onto the pulsing flame of light at the head of the chapel.

  It flickered in and out of existence, through a dozen forms. Some almost gothic horror, some romance novel man. And then it ceased to exist entirely. Beside me, Ari continued to mop up bowling birds.

  “I got them all,” she said. “Grimm, anything else?”

  “Quiet,” I said. “Grimm?”

  He didn’t answer, which was enough for me to know we were in deep mana. “Did you see anything by the altar?”

  Ari shook her head, keeping her back to me.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling of being so close to something it was breathing on me. “You know how Grimm said not use your Spirit Sight?”

  “Yes. I’m getting a bad feeling from this place.”

  “Me too. You thinking of peeking?”

  Ari nodded, took a breath, and fell to her knees, screaming in agony.

  I whipped my gun around, looking for something, anything. Each time I moved my head, Grimm’s illusion blurred. Which gave me an idea. Whatever I wasn’t seeing, it would stand out. From side to side, I snapped my head.

  “You’re not as dumb as that human.” A voice beside me spoke, rich like caramel sauce. “Who hid me from you?”

  “What did you do to Ari?” I spotted the blur and tested a theory. Nope, bullets didn’t harm it one bit.

  “I did nothing. She chose to look at me. I let her behold my radiance.” This time, the voice came from right in front of Ari. I held the gun up, not risking friendly fire.

  “Show yourself.”

  A purr of throaty laughter filled the room. “I’ve been struggling with the power that protects you since you entered. Now that you’ve disavowed his protection by asking to see me . . .”

  The room lit up with fire. Not literal fire, of the “probably unpleasant if allowed to sear you” type, but light that moved and danced like fire. It burst from the corners of the room unbidden, wreathing a figure of golden energy.

  His face melded itself into a man too handsome for words, skin like dark chocolate, eyes of brown and shining white teeth. His radiance flooded me like a warm bath. Somewhere deep in my mind, the urge to shoot him found my arms unwilling to respond.

  “Look upon me, Marissa Locks. I am Haniel, archangel of grace, bearer of glory. Look upon me, and die.”

  Five

  When someone says “Do something” and “and die,” that’s usually an excellent hint about exactly what you should avoid doing. And if my eyelids would have cooperated, I would have avoided it. The problem lay in the fact that this archangel embodied his name. Grace and glory given sentience.

  Now I knew why Grimm had rendered him invisible. It wasn’t so he could attack me at will—more likely Grimm’s spell simply couldn’t cope with a being of this magnitude. I couldn’t force my eyes shut, so instead, I bit my cheek until the flesh crunched. Tears swarmed in my eyes, defusing his hold on me. I hunched over, hands over my eyes.

  “Little one, look at me.” He spoke from right in front of me.

  My hands trembled as I fought the desire to obey him. This wasn’t a compulsion, but a craving to do as he commanded.

  “It is your choice,” came his whisper. “You can observe my transformation, but not partake in it.”

  I nudged Ari with my foot, making sure I knew where she was, and squeezed the trigger, putting a bullet where I hoped he was.

  “Fine. Be that way.” My head yanked backwards as he hauled me by the hair toward the altar. And Grimm’s spell couldn’t mask it. Couldn’t hide what lay waiting at the front. Cherub corpses lay mangled on the altar, a wafer-thin disc of black rock, whose crystalline veins seethed. Around the edge, skulls ringed the altar, each holding a rune more blasphemous than the one before.

  “It is time for me to complete this ritual. I will use your blood to consecrate my gateway.” He flung me toward the altar.

  “Grimm, get rid of your spell,” I screamed. Could he hear me? I had no idea. But I had an idea. One dependent on knowing what was truly what.

  “Yes,” said Haniel. “You will die filled with pleasure.”

  Grimm’s spell rippled and dissolved, hitting me with a wave of nauseating beauty. I glanced upward at the walls, tracing the outline of the stained glass windows. They had transmuted into living creatures, acting out the scenes. I bit my tongue until it bled to drive the images from my mind, then locked my eyes on the altar. Strains of celestial music teased the thoughts from my brain.

  Somewhere, Haniel was speaking. And as usual, he was being a pompous ass. His glory. His ascendance and transformation. The skulls surrounding the altar lit up one by one, their eyes glowing red. And was that a knife in Haniel’s hand?

  It was. So elegant and lovely. Perfect for carving with, a pain that would be pure pleasure. With mental strain hard enough to make the thought of my tattoo hurt, I slammed my fist down, smashing a skull. And again, and again. With each crack, a gush of golden mist burst out and evaporated.

  Haniel shrieked, his wail the most beautiful cry ever, but I focused on the pain blossoming along my arm as I repeated my trick, then rolled off the altar. The pain served to shield me from the archangel’s magnificent rage. With my strong arm, I seized the edge of the altar, and with every bit of inhuman strength I had, I flung it like a discus.

  Straight through a stained glass window depicting the Virgin Mary as a goat. The goat bleated a blessing as the window exploded outward.

  Haniel’s eyes glowed with glorious anger, but he tore his gaze from me, and in a burst of mellifluous light, he disappeared. With Haniel’s departure, the radiance leaked from reality, leaving it white, puffy, and plain.

  I put my hand on my bracelet, focusing on a shard of stained glass. “Grimm, we need help. Your little pest control problem just got a thousand times worse.”

  • • •

  I spent the whole trip back holding my tattooed arm down. If I let it hang loose, it moved of its own accord, which didn’t bother me while my fingers drummed on the wheel. When my arm decided to throw open the door and drag me out, that wasn’t so amusing.

  Grimm refused to speak to me when we got back. At least he refused to speak to me about Haniel, his contract, or anything else of import. In fact, after examining Ari, he summoned us to his office.

  “Go home, ladies. I order you both to proceed home. Ari, your spell-blindness is temporary. Few have seen an archangel’s true form and survived.”

  “Makes you wonder how angels can walk among us,” I said.

  Grimm shook his head. “Those who remain on this plane choose forms more appropriate. Arianna, in the kitchen are three packets of white salve. Dab one under your eyes and avoid magic for the next three days.”

  After Ari left, Grimm turned back to me.

  “That’s the generic mayonnaise, right?”

  He nodded. “I will need to be absent for a time. The Agency can take a holiday.”

&
nbsp; “That a good idea? Archangel on the loose, and you taking vacation?”

  “I must meet with my contract handler to discuss certain details that have come to light. I won’t allow them to endanger you any further. I believe Paradisia’s problem would be best dealt with by their own. Take a day off, Marissa.” Grimm faded from view.

  “Hello? Tattoo? This thing’s only getting larger. I can barely control it.” I held up my black and purple arm, which had stopped attempting to stab me in the ear with a pencil about the time the tattoo shrank past my shoulder.

  The pen on Grimm’s desk snapped up and began flying across the paper in broad strokes. When it dropped to the floor, lifeless, a note remained.

  See the curator of magical antiquities in Kingdom. Ask for the Press of Aiyn. And don’t make such a mistake again.

  –G

  I pocketed the note, picked up my princess, who had dutifully applied mayonnaise under each eye, and headed home. I can’t say which worried me more: that Grimm would challenge someone holding a contract over him, or that while he did so, Haniel was free to roam.

  Six

  Liam came home smelling like a sewage truck. I sent him to the shower and bagged the clothing to burn later. While Ari cooked crepes and sausage, I announced the good news about our day off, and waited for Liam to smile. He loved relaxing.

  Liam bit his lip. “I’d love to take a vacation, but we just found the alligator’s nest.”

  “I thought that was earlier.”

  “Another nest. This is the one with all the eggs in it. If I don’t go back there and make some flame broiled omelets, we’re going to have a disaster in the making.” Liam reached across the table to take my hand. “You understand, right?”

  I understood. Well, part of me understood. Most of me was still either in shock that he’d turned me down or furious that he’d turned me down. “It’s a day off. A whole day of no one watching in the mirror. No emergency calls. No . . . nothing.”