by J. C. Nelson
“We didn’t stop Haniel from becoming a demon.”
Grimm looked from side to side, then shrugged. “Every being has the right to make their own decisions, Marissa. Even bad ones. Like yours.” He glanced down to where my tattoo had been.
“I was able to undo mine.”
“Were you?” Grimm looked to my other arm, where the handmaiden’s mark lay traced in white scars. Now solid black.
I held up my hand, which shook violently, and tears filled my eyes. “I didn’t—I mean—”
“Marissa,” Grimm spoke softly. “Traces of the fae ink remained in your system. The handmaiden’s mark was traditionally inked in when the handmaiden swore herself. Given the Black Queen’s apparent interest in you, I hardly consider this surprising.”
I rubbed the scars again. The Black Queen was dead. I’d destroyed what remained of her when I picked a fight with a fairy. This had to be the echoes of her curse. “What are we going to do about the museum? Don’t they still have a watch out for Aiyn’s Press?”
“Not to fear, Marissa. I made arrangements while you were on leave. Simply take the box on your desk back to the museum, smile and nod when they thank you for recovering it. Your boyfriend is trying to reach you, you know.”
I put my hand on my bracelet and waited. “Liam?”
“Hey, beautiful. I’m thinking about coming into work.” Even through our link, I could practically feel his smile.
I glanced to Grimm, who made sure I was aware just how disdainful he found acting as our private-chat operator. “Meet me at the museum of magical antiquities in Kingdom.”
“Got it,” said Liam. And he was gone.
Grimm crossed his arms. “What shall I tell Arianna? She was expecting your assistance with a trio of pigs who’ve invaded the zoning committee building.”
“Ari can make bacon on her own,” I said, grabbing my purse. “I’ll be back after lunch.”
“I doubt that very much, Marissa.” Grimm faded out without giving me a chance to reply.
• • •
At the front of Kingdom Museum, I found my boyfriend. He wore a flannel shirt that obscured the bandages on his back and neck, and a smile that warmed me to the core. “I bought us tickets already. You say this place is boring. I say you haven’t really seen it.”
I reluctantly took his hand and let him drag me toward the door. “Didn’t we prevent an archangel’s rampage? And get rid of my tattoo? We’re supposed to be enjoying some happily ever after.”
Liam chuckled and pulled me close. “We’ll start in the Hall of Warts. Four hundred years of fungal growth, including one from an ogre.”
“That’s your idea of happily ever after?”
He leaned down to kiss me. “I’m with you. That makes me very happy.”
J. C. Nelson is a software developer and ex-beekeeper residing in the Pacific Northwest with family and a few chickens. Visit the author online at authorjcnelson.com.
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