following the lines of the first rune.
Griffin was right. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. It was somewhat annoying—like being lightly stung repeatedly by a delicate bee. However, beyond that slight annoyance there was something else—a fluttering beneath her skin, a strange sense of strength—what the rune stood for—easing through her veins. The X and angular S followed, each of which imparted a new sensation as the ink seeped into her flesh. It might have been her imagination, but she thought it felt as though something unbalanced settled inside her—as though she was a scale and both sides held the same weight.
Occasionally he would stop to wipe at her back—which was a little more uncomfortable. She turned her head to look at the cloth on the table. Amongst the blotches of black ink, were smears of blood.
“I’m bleeding?” she cried, incredulous. He never said anything about bleeding!
“It’s normal,” he assured her. “Just relax, Finley. I’ll be done soon, and if you’re a good girl, I shall give you a biscuit.”
“Shortbread?” she asked. If she were going to allow herself to be bribed, it would have to be for a worthwhile prize.
“Of course. Almost done now.” The last two figures were all that remained. The needle buzzed and jabbed—annoying but still not painful. As with the others, each new mark seemed to impart its meaning, fusing the intent with her skin and her blood.
The power of the runes, Griffin explained as he worked, didn’t hinge on how large the symbols were drawn, only in the intention and will behind them. That, and his blood in the ink.
“Is that why my shoulder feels hot? Because of your blood?” The thought didn’t bother her as it should.
“Possibly. My connection to the Aether gives added power to the runes.”
Sounded like magic, Finley thought as he wiped at her skin once more with a clean cloth and more Listerine. “I’m going to put some salve on your back to help it heal.”
“Should we be using the Organites, knowing what we do about them now?” She was only slightly alarmed to feel the cool ointment on her skin as he gingerly applied it with his finger.
“They can only make us better,” he told her. “In your case, since they’ve always been part of your blood, the Organites should make the runes part of you even faster.”
His should was good enough for her. Besides, he was right—she already had them running through her entire body.
As if answering her silent question, there was the strangest tingling throughout her entire body. Warmth—almost like sinking into a hot bath—swept over her. It was like nothing she ever felt before, as though the bits and parts of her, everything inside was being re-sorted and arranged in a different order—the correct order.
“That’s bloody amazing!” Griffin exclaimed above her.
“What?” she cried, holding the front of her dress as she jumped to her feet. “Why do I feel so strange?”
An expression of amazement softened Griffin’s face as he held up a mirror. “Look.”
Finley peered in the glass. She gasped at what she saw.
There were two strips of black in her hair now—one on either side, running down from her scalp in almost perfect symmetry, all the way to the ends, which were peeking out of the bun on the back of her head.
Lowering the mirror, she gaped at Griffin, who grinned at her with a smug I-told-you-so expression on his face.
“Looks like the runes are working already.”
That night Finley found it impossible to go to sleep. The runes on her back still tingled, though not with the same intensity as before. Her skin felt sensitive, as though someone had rubbed that part of her back with a scouring pad. The black was still in her hair, and her blood was still humming, though now she felt energized rather than anxious.
She was perched on the balustrade of the small balcony off her bedroom, balanced like a bird on the plaster rail no wider than her hand. It was amazing. Before she would have been afraid to take such a precarious position, but now… Now she had faith she wouldn’t fall, and if she did, she would be able to catch herself.
She didn’t fool herself into thinking that Griffin and his tattoos had fixed her, but they were certainly doing something—perhaps opening her up to merging both sides of herself, easing the process. That frightened her as much as she wanted it.
When the two halves of her finally and completely merged, would one