Ritual Ink Read online

  Contents

  Title.

  Copyright.

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  Epilogue

  Other books by Holly Evans

  Ritual Ink (Ink Born 4)

  By

  Holly Evans

  Copyright Holly Evans (2018) ©. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are purely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalised and coincidental.

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Cover Design by Lou Harper, CoverAffairs.com

  1

  I stepped into the apartment and was immediately struck by the sense of something being wrong. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Somehow, the space felt empty.

  The cougars were standing in the living room area gazing out of the window. I’d been expecting Keirn to greet me at the door. I was ten minutes late, after all.

  “Where’s Snow- I mean Keirn?” I asked.

  Snow had become something of a nickname. It horrified and appalled Keirn, which somehow made it stick. It was intended as a gentle term of endearment.

  “We’re not sure, but we suspect it has something to do with this,” Shadow said as he held out a pale cream envelope for me.

  The ink network leapt into my fingers and desperately tugged at my hands to grasp onto the envelope. It hadn’t reacted like that before. A cold stone formed in the pit of my stomach. Something was very wrong.

  The envelope was smooth and made of thick, high-quality paper. The handwriting was that scrawling script of people with too much time on their hands. It simply said ‘Dacian Corbeaux’ on the front, and had been sealed with some form of magic that was tied to me. I ripped it open and allowed the envelope to tumble to the floor as I read the note within.

  My heart threatened to stop entirely as my mind processed the words.

  Mr. D Corbeaux,

  We have been watching you for some time. We are quite impressed by the fact you were able to hide your status as an ink magician for the number of years that you did.

  We won’t waste time stroking your ego. Instead, let us cut straight to the point. We have your elf and feral. You are going to do exactly what we tell you, and if you try to do something foolish, they will be killed. We’re sure you don’t want their blood on your hands.

  You will be contacted with further details.

  Signed,

  The Ceremonial Faction of Prague.

  2

  I sank down into the sofa feeling entirely numb. The lives of my loved ones hung in the balance. I’d done all I could to keep them safe, and I’d failed. My heart thudded in my increasingly tight chest. I stared, unseeing. The letter slipped from my fingers onto the floor while I tried to form thoughts. Rage collided with complete despair. How dare they take Keirn and Vyx!? Who the fuck did they think they were!? I ground my teeth and mentally clung onto the rage with everything I had, allowing it to fuel me.

  Luka picked up the letter and frowned. A soft whining came from Keirn’s art room. I was vaguely aware of the cougars moving around me, but the ink network had chosen that moment to tug and pull at me. I snapped at it. It wasn’t the time for its antics and bullshit. Taking a calming breath, I tried to think logically. They were still alive and would remain so for as long as I gave the Ceremonials what they wanted. My stomach twisted into knots. Therein lay the problem. What did they want? Just how far was I willing to go to ensure Keirn and Vyx’s safety?

  The ink network receded just before a white ball of fur collided with my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. Keirn’s fox licked my face and squirmed in my arms while whining. I let out a relieved laugh and fought back the tears that were threatening to spill down my cheeks. I took solace in the feel of the fox’s warm, soft fur beneath my thumbs as I rubbed its cheeks and hoped that Keirn could feel my affection. There was a bond there, and Keirn had likely explained it, but it had gone over my head.

  The fox settled itself in my lap once the worst of the despair had passed. At least I still had something of my Snow, an anchor to get myself through this nightmare. One step at a time. Closing my eyes, I pushed away the overwhelming rush of emotions and formed Keirn’s face in my mind. I saw his beautiful smile and the way his silver eyes danced with merriment. I’d see him again. Opening my eyes, I looked at the cougars, who were watching me with creases on their brows and pinched worried expressions.

  “We just told Fein,” Shadow said softly.

  I gave a small nod. Fein was a good person to have in my corner during this situation. He would understand the politics and bullshit behind their little game. If it came down to it, he’d be able to raise a small army to help me storm the Ceremonials’ building and take Keirn and Vyx back.

  “I don’t know what to do now. They didn’t say what they want from me.” My voice sounded tinny and weak.

  Shadow sat next to me and squeezed my shoulder. Keirn’s fox licked my hand.

  “We speak with Fein and see what our options are,” Luka said firmly.

  I nodded. Options were good. They would give me an action, something to focus on. I’d drown if I stayed still for too long.

  “Why didn’t they tell me what they want up front?” I snarled.

  I knew why. They were playing games. I hated games. The rage bubbled up within me again, fuelling me.

  “Be careful, Dacian. They took them from public places; there’s a chance that they may be watching this apartment right now. The best thing you can do is to work on some sigils to protect the apartment and keep them out. Make this a sanctuary and a fortress,” Luka said.

  The ink network crept back into my consciousness and pulsed soft pastel colours in agreement. I took another calming breath and pulled up what I knew of sigils. Keirn’s fox clung onto me as I stood, tried to scramble into my arms and make me carry it. Of course, Kyra chose that moment to press against her bindings. If the fox was being carried, then she needed attention, too. I held the fox in one arm and allowed Kyra free. She perched on my shoulder and rubbed her cheek against mine while purring. Shadow pulled me into a deep hug, causing the fox to wriggle as Shadow temporarily suffocated it.

  “We’ll get them back,” Shadow said with a growl.

  I smiled. I didn’t doubt it. I couldn’t doubt it.

  The ink network slithered into my hands as I sat down at my desk and brought the pile of papers in front of me. It was tugging at my hands, eager to begin work. I swatted it away while I tried to figure out the sigil designs that would be most appropriate. I needed some brute force protections, to begin with. The familiarity of the work calmed and soothed me. The sweeping strokes of the sigils formed in my mind, erasing the fears. Slowly my rage filtered into my designs. What began as a strong shield to hide the apartment from dreamwalkers and such became something sharp-edged and vicious. If they tried to come into my home, they would hurt. I’d strip away their essence the way they’d stolen my Keirn. The design on the paper became harder, with thick heavy lines and short spikes that would cause great pain to any who dared try and enter my home against my will. I finished it with a small fluttering design that would have made Vyx smile. Something deceptively delicate at the heart of things. If it was activated, it would sink magic deep into the mind of whoever attacked us and put up a beacon for us to hunt them down. They would regret crossing me.

  Once the first sigil had been entirely constructed in my mind, I set to work. The ink network flooded my hands and guided them through the complicated design. The magic rippled and shone from the paper. It was more powerful than any of the sigils I’d experimented with in the past. A breaker would be able to feel it the moment they stepped into the apartment. It was a good thing I didn’t know any breakers.

  I worked my way through a series of sigils. By the time exhaustion took me, the apartment was hidden and protected from every form of magic that I could think of. We’d be safe within its confines. I only hoped that Keirn and Vyx would be as safe.

  3

  I woke up to Keirn’s fox licking my face, and for one beautiful fleeting moment, I’d forgotten what had happened. I smiled and reached behind me for Keirn’s familiar body. The bed was cold and empty. It flooded back. I swallowed down the emotions and rubbed the fox’s cheeks while pushing myself into a sitting position. Voices were coming from the living room. My stomach growled, encouraging me to go and see who was talking about what.

  Kyra remained firmly on my shoulder, but Keirn’s fox walked rather than insisting that I carry it.
Unfortunately, it walked almost on top of my feet and almost sent me sprawling twice on the short walk to the living area. Fein and a man I didn’t recognise were standing in the living room with their backs to me, talking to the cougars in hushed tones.

  “Do we have any news?” I asked.

  Fein held another envelope out to me. The script was different. This time, my name was more jagged and less swirling. Someone else had written this note. Somehow, that made it worse.

  I tore open the envelope and read the note inside three times before I frowned and ran the words through my mind. They wanted a meeting. Why didn’t they just tell me what the fuck it was they wanted? I handed the note over to Fein in the hopes he could see something there that I’d missed.

  The elf rolled his eyes and muttered something in elvish.

  “Ceremonials enjoy their games and their politics. Restrain yourself when you meet with them, Mr. Corbeaux. Do not give them the satisfaction of displaying your emotions,” Fein said.

  I ground my teeth and walked around him to get some food from the kitchen as my stomach growled again.

  “What’s the time? How long do I have?” I asked as I looked through the cupboards for something that appealed.

  “Thirty minutes to make yourself presentable. The tram will arrive in thirty-four minutes, and you will ride it for seven minutes,” Fein said.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. That seemed very exact.

  I settled on a simple sandwich. I squeezed my eyes closed. Keirn and I were supposed to be on our date at the restaurant, or more likely returning from said date by now. Kyra distracted me by trying to take a bite out of my sandwich as I lifted it to my mouth. I swatted her on the nose and gave a piece of it to Keirn’s fox, who sat politely by my feet. Kyra growled and dug her claws into my shoulders.

  “I am not in the mood for your shit, cat,” I growled.

  She relaxed and rubbed my cheek with her own in apology. I gave Keirn’s fox one of the sandwiches and ate the rest hastily before I headed to the bathroom to try and make myself look presentable. A glance in the mirror told me that I looked like shit. My hair was in complete disarray, my clothes were crumpled, and the new shirt I’d been saving for the date had ink splotches on it. I sighed and headed into the bedroom to pull on my favourite jeans and a t-shirt, the well-worn boots and leather jacket completing the outfit. I slipped my silver knife into the sheath on my hip and double-checked that the three bottles of ink were still on my person. Caiden had insisted that I start carrying them as self defence. There was a risk in using them, but at least I’d have them if I needed them.

  Fein gave me a small nod when I returned to the living room with ten minutes to spare. The new guy hadn’t said a word, and something about him made Keirn’s fox’s hackles rise. The tall, lean man smiled at the fox and crouched down to look at it.

  “Rex is a Cu Sidhe,” Fein said.

  I reflexively took a step back. The Cu Sidhe were the heart of many stories told to children to keep them in line. They were fairy hounds, vicious black dogs that would stop at nothing to kill their chosen victim. The man before me had an easy smile, and while taller than me, was slenderer and had leaner muscle. I wouldn’t have thought twice about taking him in a bar fight.

  “I’m bound to Fein; you’re safe,” he said with that easy smile firmly fixed on his face.

  I swallowed down my fear and pushed aside the memories of the stories told about his kind. He looked to be a couple of years older than me with scruffy black hair and pale silvery blue eyes. There was kindness in his face. I was struggling to pull together the idea of him being an assassin, one of the most feared beings in existence.

  “Rex will be helping us resolve this situation. His role will be whatever you need it to be,” Fein said.

  “You mean you’ll be sending him after the assholes that took Keirn and Vyx?” I asked.

  The corner of Fein’s mouth quirked up.

  “No. The politics are too delicate for something quite so blunt. Rex is more than an assassin. He has a way of getting information from people.”

  So, he was a torturer, too. Fantastic. Still, knowing that I had a Cu Sidhe on side did calm my nerves somewhat. We were going to bring them home, no matter what it took.

  4

  The journey over to the Ceremonial building was miserable. People insisted on walking very slowly in front of me on the path down to the tram stop. The tram was completely packed with obnoxious people who quickly began singing some shifter tune, complete with howls and yips where appropriate. The driver seemed to be as drunk as his passengers as he threw the tram around the corners and screeched to a halt when he needed to stop, sending everyone tumbling into each other. I was glad to get off into the cool air and finish the journey in relative peace.

  The Ceremonial building was as ostentatious as I’d expected. The pale cream stone shimmered with expensive weaver security systems. The sigils practically flashed ‘we have more money than sense’ in the darkness. A pair of what looked suspiciously like death magicians stood tall and proud on either side of the large double door at the top of the steps. I looked down at my feet as I approached them. Some people said that if you met a death magician’s eyes, they could steal a piece of your very essence. It sounded a bit extreme to me, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

  The reedy older woman, with her black coat that almost drowned her, stepped up to me. She patted me down with an unpleasant thoroughness. I’d never had a woman be quite that intimate with me, and I hoped it never happened again. She didn’t say a word, and her hands moved over the bottles of ink without pause. The doors opened and revealed a large entryway complete with double-height ceiling and lightning chandelier, just in case people thought the Ceremonials had any sense of restraint. I stepped onto the plush red carpet and looked around for someone to tell me where the fuck I was supposed to be going.

  Kyra slipped back into her tattoo when a young man with short dark-blond hair that had been slicked back approached from the far hallway.

  “Mr. Corbeaux,” he said.

  His voice was sharp and icy. His eyes were more of the same. I gave him a sharp nod of acknowledgement, not trusting my restraint if I spoke. Were Keirn and Vyx in that building? I glanced around at the doors, all of them made from blood wood. The rich, deep garnet colouring was beautiful, but the wood was entirely unethical and, I had thought, illegal. Blood wood came exclusively from the trees of dead nymphs, and I was willing to bet that the Ceremonials killed the nymphs purely to get the wood. The carpet ran through the centre of the large square room towards the door that the Ceremonial had come from. Two other doors sat on the edge of the room, one directly to my left and the other to my right.

  “Come this way,” the Ceremonial said.

  I lifted my chin and followed him through the doors into a wide hallway. The carpet gave way to white marble floors with delicate gold veins. The walls were an off-white and held a series of expensive-looking paintings complete with fine black wire frames. I was sure that Vyx could have told me the significance of such frames, and likely the reason that the paint reminded me of the depths of the ocean. There was something about the way it caught the light that made me think I could dip my fingers into it and reach into the scene of the painting. I swore that something moved within one of the paintings, and a whispering came from another, sending a shiver down my spine. I wouldn’t put it past the Ceremonials trapping people in their paintings purely for their twisted amusement. There was likely some magic that would allow it, too. I tried not to think about it.

  5

  The doors to the main room where the Ceremonials were waiting for me were yet more blood wood. They stood twice my height, and each one was my arm span. The number of nymphs that must have been murdered to make those doors was absolutely appalling. Kyra pushed against her bonds and growled at me when I refused to let her budge. Aris tested his own bonds as the butler or whatever he was opened the door for me to make my entrance. I pressed them both back down and told them to be quiet, I needed to focus.