Inked. Part 25

An odd glint entered his eyes when I mentioned Ernie's name, but he shrugged and said, "Different men, different cities. Hired like thugs. Got the scent. Tomorrow, I cut them."

Cut them, kill them. I had time to think about that, and decide whether there should be another kind of justice. Human laws, human wheels. Evidence could be planted. Police tipped off.

I shot him a hard look. "And the rest of it? You could have warned me in time to save lives."

He dug his claws into wood beneath him. I noticed other gouge marks, older and just as deep. "Old mother needed you. Needed you in order to...change. Be better. Stronger. Pivotal. No you around, she go on. Never look back. Black Cat get strong and stronger. Children die early. More children after that."

"She would have done something," I protested, though a small part of me wondered if that was true. "She would have fought to help those kids."

"No," Zee whispered, with utter certainty. "Would have been different. Colder, harder. No good mother. No heart. Seen it happen. Again, again." He rested a claw upon my hand. "You got heart. Heart from your mother, because your grandmother got heart. Because you shook up her heart. Shook her hard. Made her regret. Regret is sweet if it burns you right."

"So you're saying.... all this was to make me go back. To help my grandmother become a better person." I stared at him. "But she didn't even remember me. Later, the first time I met her. We were strangers."

Zee made a slas.h.i.+ng motion across his brow. "Waited until lessons took, then cut you out. Better that way. No good remembering future. No good."

I wanted to argue with that, but stopped myself. If I had met my grandchild while hardly out of my teens, it would have messed me up. It would have been all I thought of. No good remembering the future. No good remembering the future. Because it stole from the present. Because it stole from the present.

I wrapped my arm around his hard shoulders, and rested my chin on top of his head. I could hear Grant's cane clicking in the other room, coming closer.

"But we failed," I said softly, staring at the glittering city lights. "Those kids died."

Zee held up his clawed hand, splitting his long fingers like a Vulcan from Star Trek Star Trek. "Live long and prosper."

I stifled a sharp cough of stunned, incredulous laughter. But mostly, I just wanted to weep. Grant peered into the room. "You okay?"

"No," I said. "There's been a lot of death."

"Lot more you're not telling me. If I checked your right hand, what would I see?"

I did not want to look. "More of your future cyborg woman."

"And the rest?"

"I couldn't save the people I was supposed to."

Grant leaned against the doorway, studying me. "You're talking about those kids whom Winifred knew, and who were...targeted. Samuel, Lizbet."

"Ernie," I whispered, aching.

Grant frowned. "You feel so much grief when you say his name. I can see it."

"He's dead," I blurted out, wondering why he should look so confused-and then remembered that Grant did not know. I had not told him yet, about going back in time. Seeing those...names...as children. Saving Ernie, at least for a moment. In this time, Ernie had been dead for days now, in my arms.

Unless he was not dead.

"Grant," I said slowly. "How did we get here? How were we warned to find Winifred?"

His frown deepened. "There was a letter, Maxine."

THE following week in Seattle, I picked Ernie Bernstein up from the airport. It was a rare day, sunny and warm, and I was the only person wearing jeans and a turtleneck. I did not feel the heat. following week in Seattle, I picked Ernie Bernstein up from the airport. It was a rare day, sunny and warm, and I was the only person wearing jeans and a turtleneck. I did not feel the heat.

I saw him coming out of customs: a portly man, shorter than me, his hair silver and tufted. But his eyes were the same. I remembered those eyes.

He stopped when he saw me. Stood stock-still, staring. Drinking me in. I walked up to him, and smiled. Not bothering to hide the fine burn of tears in my eyes.

"I listened," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "Even when Winifred called me out of the blue and said I needed to find you, and go in person. Even when she mailed me that sc.r.a.p of skin and said the Black Cat was back. I waited, and did as you asked."

Time was a funny thing. I had a.s.sumed nothing could change, but it had. I could not explain the paradox that created. Only that moments counted. That it was possible-it was possible, against all odds-to make a difference. against all odds-to make a difference.

"You did good," I said.

"I trusted magic," Ernie replied, with a tremulous smile. "But now I'm an old man, and you're still the same. I can only hope...I can only hope that Jean is doing just as well."

I hesitated. He saw the answer in my eyes, and bowed his head.

"Oh," he whispered, a little boy all over again, pained and grieving. "I never thanked you. Either of you. I regretted that, always. So I watched for you both. All these years, everywhere I went. I watched for your faces."

"I was hoping you would find me," I said.

He leaned in, and kissed me shyly on the cheek. "It was only a matter of time."

Etched in Silver

AN OTHERWORLD NOVELLA.

YASMINE GALENORN.

Without obsession, life is nothing.-JOHN WATERS If we can live without pa.s.sion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without pa.s.sion, we'd be truly dead. If we can live without pa.s.sion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without pa.s.sion, we'd be truly dead.-JOSS WHEDON ( (BtVS)

1.

THE room was a shade darker than night as I pushed my way through the haze of pungent smoke, trying not to cough. The fragrance of stale wine and decaying lotus blossoms filled the air, cloying and overripe. Noise echoed through the dimly lit room, a cacophony of whispers and laughter, drunken singing and arguments from the gambling tables all rolling into one to give me a supremely bad headache. Yeah, the Collequia was jumping and so were my nerves. I'd had a very long, very bad day, and it wasn't over yet. Normally, I came here to hang out and play, but tonight was all business. room was a shade darker than night as I pushed my way through the haze of pungent smoke, trying not to cough. The fragrance of stale wine and decaying lotus blossoms filled the air, cloying and overripe. Noise echoed through the dimly lit room, a cacophony of whispers and laughter, drunken singing and arguments from the gambling tables all rolling into one to give me a supremely bad headache. Yeah, the Collequia was jumping and so were my nerves. I'd had a very long, very bad day, and it wasn't over yet. Normally, I came here to hang out and play, but tonight was all business.

The hardcore opium eaters were out in full array. My nose twitched. Not only did they smell-think a week's unwashed sweat and grime-but they were looking for nookie. Check that. They were looking for money, and they'd earn it by giving a woman-or a man-anything she or he wanted. Considering their habits, they'd probably toss in a few extra gifts for free. Disease, lice, fleas...all lovely little bundles of joy that I wasn't interested in acquiring.

The pretty boys crowded around their tables in tight-knit groups, sucking on hookahs, gossiping, eyeing each new person who crossed the door. Oh yeah, they were hungry for money. Opium was a commodity, a pricey one, spurred on by our ill.u.s.trious queen's habit, and she set the price point for distributors throughout the city. Selling s.e.x was an easy way to score one more round.

Sometimes I wondered what drew me back to this club time and again, but to be fair, not everybody here was out for the drugs. I'd met a number of friends and lovers here.

I scanned the room, looking for any signs of my quarry. Roche, one of the Veiled Fae, was wanted for rape and murder. He also happened to be a member of the Guard Des'Estar. Or at least he'd been been a member till he'd gone bad. Very bad. a member till he'd gone bad. Very bad.

When Lathe, my boss at the Y'Elestrial Intelligence Agency, had a.s.signed the case to me I knew one thing: they didn't think that I had a chance in Hel's domain of catching him. They always gave me and my sisters the cases they couldn't solve. That way, they could blame us for inept.i.tude and save face. And we'd accrue another notch in a long string of botched jobs. Camille D'Artigo at your service-on the fast track to nowhere. Camille D'Artigo at your service-on the fast track to nowhere.

I meandered past a table for six, ignoring the bozos eyeing my b.o.o.bs. Sawberry Fae, all of them-rough and crude. I couldn't blame them for looking, though. After all, I was was dressed to attract. For one thing, Roche responded to curvy women, so I was playing it up to lure him out. For another, I'd been waiting for a chance to wear my new outfit. Tight, sheer magenta tunic, thin skirt with a slit all the way up my thigh, the barest hint of woven silver panties. I made quite an impression, all right. dressed to attract. For one thing, Roche responded to curvy women, so I was playing it up to lure him out. For another, I'd been waiting for a chance to wear my new outfit. Tight, sheer magenta tunic, thin skirt with a slit all the way up my thigh, the barest hint of woven silver panties. I made quite an impression, all right.

So when men stared at my b.o.o.bs, it was part of the game and I just laughed it off. But the sweaty hand reaching out to cop a feel on my b.u.t.t crossed the line.

"That's one step too far, boy."

The man didn't budge, his fingers firmly fastened on my a.s.s. "Hey girlie, give me a ride. I promise, I can do amazing tricks with my tongue."

"I said, back off. I don't offer pity f.u.c.ks." I didn't pay for it either, and all the opium eaters were looking for was cash for another round.

"The pity would be if you don't don't f.u.c.k me." He snorted and squeezed. f.u.c.k me." He snorted and squeezed.

Realizing I wasn't going to get out of this without making some sort of scene, I slid my leg through the slit in my skirt to show off the silver dagger strapped around my thigh. "Remove the fingers from my a.s.s or I'll ram my stiletto through your crotch and you'll never use that c.o.c.k of yours again. Understand? Understand?"

He scowled as his buddies laughed, but he let go.

I leaned on the table. "Listen, boys, some of you aren't half bad. Or you wouldn't be if your eyes weren't glazed over and your teeth were a couple of shades closer to white. Clean up your act and get a job."

Without warning, Mr. b.u.t.t-Grabber grabbed my wrist and twisted. Hard. "b.i.t.c.h. When I want advice from a half-breed, I'll ask for it."

"What did you call me?" I couldn't reach my stiletto-he had my wrist, but he was standing, pressing against me, so I came down hard on his insole with my heel. He yelped and let go. I whipped out my dagger as he knocked over his chair. The dude was a good six-five and muscled, and it took everything I had to stand my ground. "Touch me again and you've touched your last woman."

"Filthy windwalker." He fumbled for his weapon, but his eyes were so glazed over from the opium that he couldn't get a good grip on the hilt. I knew the look, though, and it wasn't a safe one. Junkies were dangerous. "You should be grateful for any attention you get-"

"I suggest you apologize to the lady right now, unless you prefer to make an intimate acquaintance with my blade."

The voice came from behind the Sawberry. It was smooth and calm, like silk drawn across skin, and set up a vibration in the air that rolled through my senses like a wave. I slowly turned my head to see who was speaking.

The most gorgeous man I'd ever seen was standing there, serrated dagger out, the tip lightly pressed against Mr. Fingers's ribs. He wasn't even looking at the Sawberry, but instead, was staring at me-his gaze fastened on my face, not my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His eyes were the coolest shade of blue I'd ever seen. Ice blue. Glacier blue. Blue like a frosty morning in autumn. They stood out against the onyx color of his skin, as did the shock of silver hair that flowed down his back, s.h.i.+ning with cerulean highlights. His face, though...d.a.m.n, he was beautiful beautiful. More handsome than any man had a right to be, with a refined nose that led narrowly down to thick, luscious lips.

My breath caught in my throat. Touch me, kiss me, hold me, and help me get out of my head. Touch me, kiss me, hold me, and help me get out of my head.

The Sawberry glanced down at the blade, then at the man holding it and fear flickered in his eyes. He held up his hands. "No harm, no worry," he said, sitting back down. He swallowed his anger and added softly, "I'm sorry, miss. I won't bother you again."

Taken aback by the sudden turnaround, I looked back for the man who had cowed the giant but he'd vanished. Blinking, wondering if I'd imagined the entire incident, I hurried over to the counter.

"Petre bothering you?" Jahn, the bartender, wiped the polished wood in front of me. "He's harmless enough, though when he's hurting for another fix, I wouldn't lay odds on his behavior. I cut them off around dawn. They haven't paid their tab from last week yet, so they're probably ready for more."

"I almost had to cut him, but that man...Something about him scared the dude and he stopped right in his tracks. Apologized, too."

"What man?" Jahn reached for the brandy bottle. I shook my head.

"No brandy tonight." I looked around the bar, but didn't see the man who'd come to my aid. "I dunno, I don't see him now. He just...appeared from out of nowhere." I glanced back at the bottle he was holding. "I'm in the mood for something different. Something a little more...exotic."

Jahn let out a grin. "The day you're not not in the mood for something kinky is the day I close this place down. What's the matter, Camille? Rough day?" in the mood for something kinky is the day I close this place down. What's the matter, Camille? Rough day?"

"Rough week." I shrugged, scooping up a handful of the torado nuts and popping the salty treats into my mouth.

Lately, my life had been a long string of one bad day after another. My job sucked. I sucked at my job. My father was on my case again about how I was running the house. h.e.l.l, I was a Moon witch, member of the Coterie of the Moon Mother, and and I worked for the YIA. Between work and Coterie meetings and running with the Hunt, I barely had time to sneeze, let alone help the housekeeper keep things tidy at home. Not only that, but I was worried about my sister Menolly and the new job the agency had a.s.signed to her. It was dangerous-too dangerous, and I had the uneasy feeling they were setting her up for a big fall. I worked for the YIA. Between work and Coterie meetings and running with the Hunt, I barely had time to sneeze, let alone help the housekeeper keep things tidy at home. Not only that, but I was worried about my sister Menolly and the new job the agency had a.s.signed to her. It was dangerous-too dangerous, and I had the uneasy feeling they were setting her up for a big fall.

"What happened?" Jahn tossed the bar rag over his shoulder and rummaged through the bottles on the shelves behind the counter. He held up a clear bottle, filled with a chocolate brown liqueur. "Here, try this. Straight from the Nebelvuori Mountains."

"Dwarven? Won't that be a little raw?"

He grinned. "Dwarves may be crude in the bedroom and at the dinner table, but they like their liquor, so the drink should be smooth and rich."

I actually laughed for the first time in days. "Set me up, babe," I said, resting my elbows on the counter as I glanced around the bar. Still no sign of Roche. He was supposed supposed to be here. My supervisor had practically guaranteed it. And I had a tight deadline. Find the perv before he struck again. to be here. My supervisor had practically guaranteed it. And I had a tight deadline. Find the perv before he struck again.

He shook his head as he filled a small cognac gla.s.s. "You use the oddest expressions, Camille. But they fit you somehow."

"I have my mother to thank for that. She was human, you know, and she kept some ties over Earthside." And I missed her more than I could ever say. It had been years since she died, but her loss still left a gaping hole in our family that no one could fill, no matter how hard they tried.

"I remember her. She was a lovely woman, with gracious manners. So, you ever think you'll go Earthside when the portals are finally open to travelers?" Jahn pushed the gla.s.s my way and rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes were warm. He was one of the few friends I could count on who really gave a d.a.m.n about my sisters and me.

I snorted. "Are you kidding? h.e.l.l, I have a hard enough time coping with one world, let alone two." But I lingered over the thought. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Seeing my mother's homeworld might help me understand why she'd been the way she'd been. I had a while to think about it, though. The project would take a number of years to complete.

Jahn motioned for me to drink up. I tossed a coin on the counter and inhaled the aroma whirling up from the gla.s.s. One long whiff filled my nose with the fragrance of harvest time, and moss and trees and stone circles.

"You sure the dwarves made this?"

"I know. I was surprised, too," he said. "I gather they've discovered some new process or something for distilling the brew. n.o.body's talking secrets, though. Taste it. I think you'll be in for a surprise."

I brought the crystal to my lips and took a sip. The flavors of warm honey and cinnamon raced down my throat, and then-an aftertaste of galangal and oats and...kirmeth? A potent flower bud, kirmeth produced a stiff kick when added to alcohol.

Coughing, I wiped my eyes, trying not to smear the kohl. "Whoa...this is a d.a.m.ned sight better than anything I've had lately. Pour me another, please."

He filled another gla.s.s and shoved it my way. "What's got you so wound up? You've been coming in here all tight and tense this whole week. You act like you're hunting for something, and I know you haven't found what you're looking for."

He reached out and took one of my hands in his. His skin was rough and his face was scarred. I wondered what battles he'd seen in his younger days.

"Sweetie, it's no wonder the men are scared s.h.i.+tless of you. They want you, don't get me wrong, but that glint in your eyes promises you'll take down the next man who even looks at you wrong."

I slugged the rest of my drink and pushed back the gla.s.s, toying with the second drink. As much as I wished I could tell him, I was under wraps. Agents of the YIA were sworn to secrecy, except to one another. Even though Jahn had been a friend of the family since before I was born, I couldn't confide in him. So I lied.

"Family stuff. Father's on a tear about the gardens again. Mother loved them. But I don't have the time to keep them up like she did, and I really don't have her green thumb. I can grow herbs-some, for my magic. But I'd rather talk to them than tend them."

"Green thumb?" He looked perplexed.

"Mother was able to grow things...like an herbalist. Anyway, so he's p.i.s.sed about that. And I'm worried about Menolly." I stopped, frowning. And here we come to another problem, folks-my sister and the YIA's unrelenting use of her in dangerous cases, thanks to her innate abilities to sneak into places and climb walls and so forth. And here we come to another problem, folks-my sister and the YIA's unrelenting use of her in dangerous cases, thanks to her innate abilities to sneak into places and climb walls and so forth.