Page 57 of Dark Ink

“Told you we were coming, man. Sorry we took so long.”

He pulls me to my knees, then helps me to stand, giving me a tight hug. Somewhere at the back of my mind, there’s pain, and a lot of it, but right now the elation of being alive overrides it.

“Tanya,” I whisper and let Ivo go, looking around for the one person who both infuriates me and fills me with an odd sense of pride.

“She’s there. We’re too afraid to touch her.” Ivo points to the middle of a semicircle of Arcana folk, who are all towering over Tanya and the man in her arms.

“Don’t you fucking dare. You’re not going to die so easily!” She’s shouting, her face obviously red underneath dried brown blood.

I step forward. Duke Hazelton has been shot in the stomach, his beige T-shirt turning a dark red with every labored breath he takes.

Tanya grabs a handful of gravel and yanks his mouth open, shoving the stones inside.

“Swallow, you pig,” she says through gritted teeth, then fights off his weak attempt at stopping her. She feeds him more gravel, swatting his hand away every time he struggles to lift it to his mouth.

Should I stop her? I look back at Ivo, who shakes his head. Then at everyone else, all of whom have different expressions etched on their quiet faces—from surprise to shock, they’re all watching, mesmerized as Tanya takes her revenge. For herself, and maybe for Sophie too.

I don’t think all of her anger truly stems from Duke Hazelton’s assholery. Maybe she imagines it’s Koschei in his place, or maybe she just needs an outlet for her fear.

Duke Hazelton’s eyes bulge as he gags on gravel, blood now pooling under him. Tanya presses a knee to his bullet wound and he jerks, spitting stones like a fountain. She goes through his pockets roughly, sparing no effort as she pushes him this way and that. Tears stream down his face, muffled sobs escaping from between the gravel in his mouth. He’s half dead.

“Hannah Tory.” Tanya takes out a credit card and reads Duke Hazelton’s real name. “Well, I guess it’s your parents’ fault you turned out to be a dickhead. Must have been impossible to grow up with a name like that.”

A few scattered laughs cut through the charged silence.

“Do you regret you were born yet?” Tanya takes more gravel, replenishing the stones that escaped his mouth earlier. I’m not sure he can even hear her anymore.

“I regret you were born,” she concludes as she gets up, giving him a final kick and walking away.

I hobble after her, all the pain in my body returning at once like a wave.

“Wait,” I say after her. I can’t shout. “Tanya!”

The Arcana people start moving around us, with the show finished.

Tanya doesn’t stop, but she slows down and turns to me.

“I’m sorry you got involved in all this. At least it’s all done,” she says.

“What do you mean? We have to save Jenya and make sure Koschei can’t start another cult.”

“Na-uh. I’m done. And if you are as smart as I think you are, you will stop here too.” She halts in the middle of the road and puts her hands on her hips. “Now, who will give me a ride home?”

Chapter 30

Eight years ago

I roll the cigarette between my fingers, debating whether to light it up or pick it apart and chew the inside. How does he keep finding out? I know he can’t die, but he shouldn’t be able to see everything I do.

I’ll light it. I’m hidden here in the shadows of the tree and if I turn my back to the chapel, no one will be able to see the little flame.

I take out the flame instrument I stole two days ago from Koschei’s desk and light the cigarette. The smell and warmth of it make me calmer instantly and I take a long drag, savoring the strange taste.

Obeying my grandfather is easy. It’s what I’ve done my whole life, even back in our previous village across the ocean. But as time passes, something tugs at my insides to push against him. I do it sometimes, then he punishes me. I heal and I’m ready to do it all over again. Perhaps the darkness has truly taken over me, but why does it feel so good?

This cigarette, with its forbidden smoke and little hopeful light, is so enticing that I’m ready to be on the floor later, ready to take my punishment. It’s always the same as far as cigarettes are concerned—he lights up one, spreads my legs, and pushes it into the lines of my ‘Ink of life’ symbol I got when I got my first bleed. It hurts so much, but it’s nothing I can’t take.

As I swallow more of the swirling smoke, the tree leaves rustle and something thumps on the ground. It’s alive and much bigger than me.

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