My tone was the giveaway, though I didn’t mean it to be. The news is bad, it said. Nicky crossed his arms, then raised one of his hands to put it over his mouth, muffling his next words. “Say it.”
“He’s dead. I was there when it happened. We were…” I faltered, realizing that the truth could very well put this person in danger. But I didn’t want to lose momentum; I was treating this entire conversation like a Band Aid and ripping it off. “We were being held prisoner, because of what we are.”
I sensed Laurie’s surprise, somehow. His incredulity was justified; I’d taken a gamble, trusting this stranger with the knowledge of my species. But Nicky didn’t react. “It was the V, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” I didn’t flinch as I said it. In a way, it was the truth.
Slowly, Nicky sat down in the closest office chair. He stared through the window across from him, his jaw tight, his hand a fist on the desk. An uncomfortable silence fell. I glanced at Laurie over my shoulder.
What should we do? my expression asked.
Hell if I know, his said back.
“What do you want?” Nicky asked, refocusing on me. His throat moved as he swallowed. “For your mark. I can do it.”
I shook my head with a baffled frown. “Mark?”
Nicky made an abrupt gesture with his hand. “Yes, the mark. Gil told me about the custom amongst your kind. I still have some of the ink we used on his last one.”
Curiosity got the better of me again. “What did he tell you?”
“He said that if a Nightmare is killed, the one who bears witness to their death gets a mark. To remember. To remind. To carry on the legacy. The ink is bespelled, making it so only other Nightmares can see it.” Nicky paused again, and I thought of the tattoos covering Gil’s arms. “Once, he mentioned the mark wasn’t always a tattoo. Sometimes it was a keloid or a brand.”
As he waited for my answer, and I actually considered it, I wondered if my parents had gotten any tattoos. I couldn’t recall ever seeing one. If this really was a tradition of our people, they’d never told me about it.
Thinking of them brought back some of the pain I thought I’d left on that sun-dappled hilltop. The truth was, I had witnessed the death of a Nightmare. Several, in fact. I liked the thought of etching their memories on my skin. Acknowledging and claiming my pain, then turning it into something else.
“Look,” I said, hesitating, “I would like to get a mark, yes, but you just got some really painful news. I don’t expect you to—”
Nicky was already shaking his head. “It would be a good distraction. Honestly, you’d probably be doing me a favor; I won’t be sleeping tonight anyway. The studio is back here. Please come on in. Don’t think I ever caught your names, by the way. You can call me Nicky.”
He moved to open one of the other doors, and I turned to Laurie. I’d already pulled out my phone, knowing that I’d need to talk to Lyari or Savannah if I was going to do this. “It’s probably going to take a while. Hours,” I told him.
Laurie shrugged. “Fortunately, I brought something to pass the time.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he held up a book. The earmarked copy of Moby Dick looked identical to the one I had at home. “Have you been in my room again?” I asked wearily.
Laurie just winked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Lyari was waiting on the front porch when we returned.
Her gaze flicked to Laurie, noting his presence. I could sense the distrust rolling off her in waves before she refocused on me. Even now, she didn’t like him.
“Has there been word from Savannah? Did she find a spell?” I asked straightaway, too impatient for greetings or small talk. My phone had died during our time in England, and I hadn’t been able to get any updates. Lyari didn’t answer—all her attention was on the bandage on my arm now. Her fae senses could probably detect the scent of my blood. I made a dismissive gesture. “It’s just a new tattoo.”
Her eyes lingered on it, as if she was deciding whether or not to believe me. It had taken eight hours. One of the longest sessions Nicky had ever done, he told me at one point during the night. My new quarter sleeve would take two weeks to heal. At least, two weeks for a human. Now that I was a Nightmare again, I would heal slightly faster. A small bag dangled from my hand, containing an expensive bottle of moisturizer I’d bought at the shop. I’d also spent two thousand dollars on the tattoo itself—and that was after the supposed discount Nicky had given me.
He’d called the style blackwork—tattoos that were made using solely black ink and empty space. Curved around part of my arm, there was the tree from Oliver’s dreamscape, each of its branches representing a member of my family. A wolf fit into the tree like a puzzle piece. Next to this, there was a dragon. I had born witness to the Leviathan’s death, as well, and it felt right that someone would remember the wild creature it had truly been. For Gil, and the loss of his life as a Nightmare, I’d borrowed the rose on his shoulder. It all came together like some overgrown, beautifully eerie garden. Like a fairy tale written out on my skin.
“She hasn’t found one.” I didn’t phrase it like a question. My voice was flat, devoid of hope, as if it were draining out of me with each passing second Lyari kept looking at me like that.
“He’s dying, Your Majesty,” Lyari said.
“I know he’s dying,” I snarled. Instant regret took hold of me, and I spun away—I didn’t want an audience as I fought for control. I could feel that dark force rising again, the same one that had driven me to kill dozens of people at that black market. The same darkness Gwyn had seen.
After a moment, I walked back to them, my boots making hollow sounds against the wooden boards. I lifted my head and met Lyari’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t react, but her voice softened in a way I’d never heard it do before. “During one of his lucid periods, the wolf requested the dignity of a swift death, Fortuna.”
It was her use of my name that made me pause. I knew Finn was suffering, damn it; I’d been watching him fight the demon for three days. If he’d asked Lyari to kill him, it meant he was losing. We were no closer to finding a real exorcism spell, and with every hour that passed, Finn was in agony. Did I have the right to make this decision for him? What would I want, if I were in his position?
I didn’t like the answers.
“Fine.” My voice was strangled. I gripped the plastic bag so tightly that I felt the sting of my fingernails. “Just… give me a minute.”
Laurie finally spoke. “I can do it, Fortuna. I’ll be kind to your wolf. He won’t feel a thing.”
I didn’t meet his gaze. I knew that if I did, he would see the terror in my eyes. He could probably smell it anyway. Fucking faeries. “No one but me is going to touch Finn,” I said.
“Firecracker…” There was a gentle note in Laurie’s voice.
“The witch is on guard duty alone. I shall go check on her,” Lyari announced. Before either of us could respond, she bowed and went inside. The screen door slammed into the stillness.
“She doesn’t like me, does she?” Laurie remarked, staring after the other faerie.