Page 87 of Ink Blood Sister Scribe

“It’s a party in there,” she said, reaching down to stroke his head. As always, she was amazed by how warm he was, how present. “Are you sure you won’t come in?”

He pushed his face against her fingers and wove himself through her legs, and she wondered if he’d let her pick him up. She wanted badly to hold him in her arms. But when she reached down with her other hand and touched his side, he leaped away.

“All right,” she said as he retreated, his cidery eyes admonishing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”

She couldn’t help wishing someone with a kind voice would say this very thing to her.

Collins was coming back; she could see his figure between the branches and hear the crackle of twigs and dead leaves beneath his heavy feet as he moved up the path. He emerged from the thicket behind the overgrown swing set, Sir Kiwi’s leash wound around one hand, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him, his mouth grim. When he glanced up and saw Joanna standing on the porch, he froze.

“What’re you doing?” said Collins.

“Saying hi to the cat,” she said.

Collins frowned, then seemed to notice the way Sir Kiwi was wheezing at the end of her tether. “The cat,” he repeated, as the animal in question bounded off the porch and streaked toward the woods. Sir Kiwi let out an agonized yap and Collins stared off into the dark trees as the cat vanished.

“Are you all right?” Joanna said.

“It’s nice out here,” he said. “You clear that path yourself?”

“My dad and I did,” she said. “And Esther. Years ago, when we were kids.”

“But you’ve kept it clear. That must be a lot of work.” Sir Kiwi had trotted up the porch steps and was straining her leash to try and jump on Joanna’s legs. Collins stayed a few paces away on the grass, looking up at her. “How far does it go?”

“It circles the property,” she said. “Tracing the outline of the wards. It’s about three miles altogether. Did you get to the stream?”

Collins nodded. He seemed to be relaxing from whatever bad mood had gripped him. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s beautiful out there.”

Again, as she had in the basement, Joanna felt a flush of pleasure; and again, she told herself it did not matter what Collins thought. But he was right, she had worked hard on that path, and in so many ways it was a part of her just as the books were, or this porch, or her own blood. It was her blood, after all, that kept this house safe within the circle of forest.

Collins started up the stairs, boards creaking, and she stepped back to give him room. He paused right in front of her, his eyes locked somewhere over her shoulder, his lips set in a thin, unhappy line. It was a face full of bad news, and she was suddenly certain that whatever he was about to say next, she didn’t want to hear it. She braced herself, pulse climbing, as his gaze lifted briefly to hers.

He said, “Everything here is beautiful.”

Then he brushed past her and into the house, Sir Kiwi leading the way. Joanna stood, astonished, and confused, listening to the slam of the door behind him. His expression had been as dire as she’d yet seen it, tension radiating from every line of his body despite his words.

All of them were under a lot of stress, she reminded herself, and Collins no less than any of the others. He must be anxious about the spell Esther was writing, preoccupied by the thought that it might not work, or even by the thought that it would, that soon whatever silence he’d been under would be broken. Constraints could be comforting. Joanna knew this better than anyone.

When she opened the door to go back inside, the sound of the vampire book hit her all over again. Collins was in the foyer wiping Sir Kiwi’s muddy little paws with an old towel, but he released the last hind leg as Joanna came in, and when Sir Kiwi skittered away, he went after her. Joanna followed him back into the living room, where they found Nicholas sitting on the couch with the book to one side, massaging his temples. Joanna thought, slightly impressed, that she had never met any human or object who managed to look so deluxe and so depleted at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” Collins demanded, hovering over him.

“Stand down,” Nicholas said, “good lord. You’re not actually my bodyguard anymore, remember? Nothing’s wrong, only a headache. And this book is foul.”

The sound was stuck in Joanna’s head, a bitter film on the back of her tongue that she tasted every time she swallowed. Knowing what the book was made of hadn’t changed the sound itself, but it was harder now to hear the wrongness of it and not think of skin, bone, sinew, suffering.

“Are you done looking?” Joanna said.

“For now,” Nicholas said, frowning. “I keep thinking there’s something more, something I’m not understanding, but... I don’t know.”

Esther wandered in from the dining room, stretching, and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Can I put it back in the basement?” Joanna said. “It’s really unpleasant to listen to.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said, and Collins, who’d been about to sit on the sofa beside Nicholas, stood again. Then he started to sit. Then he changedhis mind and stood. Nicholas frowned up at him and Joanna was glad she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his weird behavior. “Collins,” said Nicholas, “are you all right?”

“You’re finished writing?” Collins asked Esther.

“Yes, a second ago,” said Esther.

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