Ink Exchange

Chapter 20

The morning was barely upon him when Irial walked into Pins and Needles, watching the mortals outside the shop with a new interest. Leslie would give him enough of her mortality that he'd be able to feed on them, to grow stronger. It had worked for a few of the thistle-fey, had worked for Jenny Greenteeth and her sisters. He couldn't grow weak. He couldn't allow his fey to grow weak and be ended by mortals. That wasn't an option. He'd have his mortal, nourish himself—through her—to feed his court. If they were strong enough, he and his mortal, they could survive it. If she was not as strong as he thought, she would die or slip into madness; he'd starve, fade, or worse—fail his court.

But she's a strong mortal. He hoped they would both survive. He'd never cared for one of them; there were a few halflings, like Rabbit, who'd mattered—but no true mortals.

"Iri." Rabbit's face lit with the inexplicable happiness he seemed to feel when Irial visited.

"Bunny-boy."

Rabbit scowled. "Man, you really need to stop calling me that. Ani and Tish are around somewhere. You know how they are."

"I know." Irial grinned. He couldn't see Rabbit as a grown man, despite the proof in front of him. "How are the pups?"

"Troublesome."

"Told you. It's all in the blood." Irial pulled out the book he'd brought with him. "Gabriel sends his best."

"He has a best? Been nice if they'd inherited it." Rabbit took the book, flipping it open as eagerly as he had the first time Irial had given him images of the more reclusive fey. The symbols and crude sketches were the start of what would be tattoos tying mortals to the Dark Court. Rabbit would re-create them in ways that faeries could not, capturing the flaws and beauties until they were pulsing on the page, seeking the mortal who could wear them. It was a disquieting skill—one neither of them spoke of.

Then Ani and Tish flew into the room, squealing in that eternally hyper way they had. "Iri!"

"How's Dad?"

"Did he send anything? He was here."

"He met Leslie."

"Rabbit won't let me go to the square anymore."

"Have you seen the new queens? We know the one, the Summer Queen."

"We don't know her. We met her. It's different."

"Isn’t."

"Let Irial talk." Rabbit sighed. He might scowl a bit, but he watched the girls with a care their father wouldn't have. Halflings were typically too fragile to live in the Dark Court, too mortal, but the High Court would've broken their spirits—impeded their natural passions with unnatural restraints. Sorcha's court took the Sighted ones and all of the halflings—unbeknownst to the Winter and Summer Courts—but the Dark Court tried to keep their mortal offspring out of that rigid realm. Rabbit had repaid that secrecy by looking after the other halflings Irial'd found.

"There's trinkets from the Hounds." Irial held out the bag. "And one of Jenny's kin sent those garments you wanted."

The girls snatched the bag and scurried away.

"Exhausting beasts." Rabbit rubbed a hand over his face, then called out, "No clubs tonight, you hear me?"

"Promise," Tish yelled from somewhere in the back.

Ani ran back in. Grinning madly, she skidded to a stop a hairsbreadth away from Irial. "Did you like Leslie? I bet you did. Very hot." Her words all tumbled together. Then she stuck her tongue out at Rabbit. "We'll get to go tomorrow, then. Promise?"

As Rabbit put a hand over his eyes, Irial found himself offering, "I'll take them."

Rabbit made a shooing motion at Ani. Then he flipped the sign on the door to closed. "Now, let's give this a try."

The room was exactly as it had always been, immaculate and unchanging. Rabbit had aged some, not as fast as mortals, but he looked closer to early twenties than teens now.

Rabbit motioned to the black chair where his clients sat. "You okay?"

Irial squeezed Rabbit's forearm and admitted, "Tired."

After he handed Rabbit the cords Gabriel had sent, Irial sat down in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him.

"I heard about Guin." Rabbit pulled out three needles and as many vials.

"Gabriel's got the Hounds patrolling; they think they're immune still. The leannan-sidhe are to stay out of sight." Irial leaned back in the tattoo chair and closed his eyes while Rabbit bound him with the cords. Irial always found himself talking freely with Rabbit. In a world of careful deceit, there were so few people Irial could trust without reservation. Rabbit had inherited all of his father's loyalty, but also the mortal sense to think things through, to talk rather than fight.

"I think the ink exchange will help." Rabbit rolled up Irial's sleeve. "It's going to hurt."

"Hurt me or the girl?" Irial opened his eyes briefly. "I saw her, the mortal."

"You. Leslie will just feel the tattoo. I think. She did well with the outline. The court's tears and blood are an easier adjustment for a mortal. Her emotions will be volatile, fleeting by now. She's coping, though. Your blood will be harder for her. …" His words drifted off. He picked up the brown glass bottle that held the strange ink he'd mixed for the exchanges. "I'm not sure how she'll do, since it's you. She's good people."

"I'll look after her," Irial promised. She'd be bound to him, but he'd make sure she was well cared for, satisfied. He could do that.

Rabbit tied another cord around Irial's arm to help raise a vein. Unlike the cords that bound him to the chair, this was a simple thing—a length of rubber like those in mortal hospitals.

"It'll be fine." Irial tested his bonds, then nodded to Rabbit. There were few creatures he'd trust to hold him immobile.

Silently, Rabbit located the vein on the inside of Irial's elbow.

"She's stronger than you know, or she wouldn't have picked me."

Rabbit jabbed a thick, hollow tube into Irial's arm. "Ready?"

"Yes." It was barely a sting, not anywhere near as painful as he'd feared.

Then Rabbit added the tiny filter only he could make to the tube.

Irial's spine bowed; his eyes rolled back. It'll make me strong. Feed my court. Protect them. But the extraction of blood and essence was nightmarishly awful, as if tiny incisors were set to roam inside his body, ripping and tearing at places where sharp things should never enter.

"Keep the pups out of my reach," he gasped as his vision began to blur. "Need." Irial's stomach cramped. His lungs tightened, as if all the air he'd ever breathed were being sucked out all at once.

"Irial?" Ani's voice was in the doorway. Far enough away that he couldn't reach her; too close, though.

His hands clenched. "Rab …"

"Ani, go." Rabbit stepped in front of Irial then, blocking her from view.

"It'll pass, Iri. It always passes. Tell him, Rabbit, tell him he'll be okay." Ani's voice faded as she walked away.

"She's right."

"Starving." Irial dug his finger into the chair until the leather ripped. "You're destroying me. My court."

"No. It passes. Ani's right. It passes." Rabbit pulled out the tube with a schluck. "Rest now."

"Food. Need. Call Gabriel."

"No. Not until I finish the tattoo. Nothing until then. Else it won't work." Then Rabbit left, locking the door behind him, leaving Irial unable to move from the chair.