Indelible. Dawn Metcalf

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ smoothed her hands over the lined paper, promising herself that when the time came, she would simply hand the message over to Ink and be done with it. No muss, no fuss. She could do this. For Monica. For Dad. For a little while, anyway. Then things could go back to normal.

      Hooray.

      * * *

      “Anything for me?”

      Joy glanced over her monitor at Ink, then spun around to check that everyone else in study hall was busy clicking mice and keys.

      “What are you doing?” Joy hiss-whispered, forgetting the silent treatment. “Go away!”

      “No one can see me. Or hear me,” Ink said. “You have a message?”

      Glaring, Joy yanked out her notebook and tore off the page. The rip of paper rent the quiet, but no one looked up. She held it out, but Ink shook his head.

      “Not here.”

      Joy grated through clenched teeth, “I’m in class...”

      “It will only take a second,” he said and disappeared.

      Joy sighed and stuffed the note into her pocket, then reluctantly asked the senior proctor if she could use the bathroom. Grabbing the bright pink hall pass, she slipped quietly out the door. Ink was waiting for her by the fire extinguisher.

      She dug out the paper and handed it over.

      Ink took it and read it quickly, then handed it back.

      “Easily done,” he said. “Ready to go?”

      “What? No!” Joy whispered angrily. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

      Ink glanced around in mock surprise. “No.”

      “Well, I am,” Joy insisted. “This is school. I can’t go anywhere right now.”

      Ink opened his wallet and drew out a thin knife.

      “That is where you are mistaken,” he said. Joy stepped back. Was he going to gut her right there in Hall C? Somehow she didn’t think so, and the more she watched him, the more she thought that he didn’t look menacing—he looked like he was being clever. Ink twirled his blade with a hint of mischief. Joy hesitated, wondering what he was up to.

      Ink slashed, acting as if he didn’t care whether she was impressed, but obviously pleased that she was as he peeled back a layer of nothing. A thin membrane of space hung loosely in midair.

      He’d cut away a flap of the world.

      Joy stared at it and him and the school and what once was.

      Ink offered his hand, smooth as glass.

      “Come with me,” he said.

      “I—I can’t,” Joy said, but found that she’d somehow already stepped forward. It was all too impossible as he slit the door wider and they walked together into nothing at all.

      The breach disappeared with a sharp scent, like limes.

      In that instant, Joy was aware of Ink beside her—a soft smell of rain clung to his clothes, his shoulder hard against hers. She held on to his shirtsleeve and tried to adjust to the new light.

      Flash! Flash!

      She blinked and let go as Ink stepped into a softly lit room. The bedroom had that blanket quiet Joy recognized from years of babysitting: a mix of moon-shaped night-lights, pastel colors and talcum powder. Ink leaned over a wooden crib, a blue-footied baby curled inside like a tiny cat. The plug-in monitor whirred and clicked, registering Joy’s footfalls in the thick, plush carpet.

      Ink opened his wallet and selected an instrument, holding the long, thin razor up to the wan light. Joy froze, danger tingling down her spine. She wasn’t sure what Ink was about to do, but she didn’t like where this was going.

      “What are you...?”

      Ink silenced her whisper with a wave and a finger to his lips, then to hers. The touch was impersonal and strong. His hand was stone solid, as if he could easily nudge forward and break her front teeth. Joy shushed but looked worriedly down at the baby, swallowing protests. He saw her anxiety.

      “I will not hurt him,” Ink said.

      Joy twisted her fingers, uncertain. “Really?”

      Ink frowned slightly. “I cannot lie,” he said as he lifted the blade. “Watch.” The monitor did not so much as click at his voice.

      Joy watched Ink place the long knife between two of the baby’s shrimpy fingers. She held her breath, not sure whether to scream or keep from screaming.

      At the touch, a tiny pattern of black script burst across the bitty palm. Joy stared, surprised at the unexpected tattoo fireworks as they faded and disappeared. The baby didn’t even change its deep breathing. Spellbound, Joy leaned farther over the crib’s edge to watch Ink do it again.

      Switching to the left hand, Ink repeated the procedure. Like a drop of dye in water, the pictographs expanded and curled in invisible eddies, fading quickly. She caught a few images that danced in the design: something like fat blueberries and a bird with a crown. Then those, too, disappeared and the baby slept on.

      Ink withdrew the blade and blew on it, then folded it back into its sheath with no wasted motion. He stepped away from the crib.

      “That’s all?” Joy said.

      “Shh,” he chided, but smiled, pleased. It made his boyish face even more so. She was shocked that he had dimples.

      “That is all,” Ink confirmed.

      “Huh,” she whispered. “That wasn’t so bad.”

      “Still, it is good that you came along,” he said. “It is important that you be seen with me.”

      Joy frowned, glancing around without moving her head. “There’s nobody here.”

      “Shh.” Ink hushed her again and stepped back, pointing to the telltale monitor. The cow-over-the-moon night-light outlined his features, catching all the impish hollows. He shrugged with open hands, as plainly as if he’d said, One never knows who is watching.

      Joy nodded, eyeing the shadows. They were supposed to act “together.” She slipped her hand into his and gave a soft squeeze. Ink stiffened, staring down at their hands. Turning them over, he inspected the configuration of their fingers from all sides. Joy wondered if he’d ever held hands before. His staring at their entwined fingers felt stranger by the moment.

      Finally he said, “Time to go.”

      “Okay,” Joy whispered, the weirdness tossing her mind in strange directions. Ink sliced a new doorway and Joy decided she wouldn’t be half surprised if she saw a giant caterpillar with a hookah or a Mad Hatter sipping tea. She was more surprised to find neither of these.

      Joy stepped gingerly into Hall C, nearly bumping her nose against the red emergency case. She blinked at the fire extinguisher. СКАЧАТЬ