The Archive of the Forgotten (Hell's Library #2) - A. J. Hackwith Page 0,91
not. Either way, the younger muses appeared calmed, then awed as Probity took the vial. Brevity’s anxiety crept up again as Probity uncorked it, holding the glass up to the light. “But we’ll be cautious anyway. Just a drop to start. One drop, and we’ll create the first story born of a muse. We won’t need humans. We’ll save the future of every story ever written.”
And unwritten, Brevity wanted to remind her, but Probity was already gesturing. Gaiety and Verve held out their hands. Probity didn’t hesitate. She precisely tipped the vial to flick a droplet of ink into each palm.
The ink didn’t sink immediately into the skin, like it had with Claire. In fact, it seemed repelled at first. Tiny amounts of the dark liquid beaded, then skittered over their palms like oil on a hot skillet. It raced over their knuckles, black lines starting to coalesce and swirl against their sunny-colored skin.
“Focus,” Probity soothed when Gaiety and Verve began to shift nervously.
“It might be working,” Brevity said quietly. The ink appeared to be stretching, thinning out into long lines. Perhaps it would take shape and simply mark their skin like the inspiration Brevity had stolen. She clutched one bare forearm at the thought, but the ink showed no sign of settling down. It raced across the back of Verve’s hand, and Brevity frowned.
“Did you see . . . ?”
Probity’s gaze snapped to her. “See what?”
“Light,” Brevity muttered. “We need more light.” She grabbed the edge of Verve’s tunic and dragged her over closer to one of the windows. The stained glass depicted some long-forgotten saint, looking forlorn and wearing a mostly white robe, which cast the clearest amount of stolen light. “There. It’s leaving a trail.”
She pointed as the droplet of ink wove its way around the orange skin of Verve’s knuckles. The skin it passed felt lightened, pulled to a paler shade of tangerine. The ink moved quicker over the back of her hand, appearing to pull color with it. The ink stayed bleak and black, even in brighter light.
“It’s cold,” Gaiety said softly. The ink was doing the same to his rose-colored skin. Pastel tracks stood out where the ink had slid over the surface and up his wrist. A glassy tone in his voice made Brevity uneasy.
“I brought a blotter.” She began to reach for her bag. “Maybe we should—”
“No.” Probity’s hand was on her wrist. “I suspected this would happen. It’s a good sign, see? The ink isn’t sinking in like with Claire. It’ll work. It’ll work,” Probity repeated, quieter. “Just a moment longer.”
Brevity hesitated, for just precisely that moment, and a small sigh of air brought her attention back. The ink had sailed its way up Gaiety’s forearm, and its pale track disappeared under the hem of his sleeve at his elbow.
Gaiety struggled for breath.
A streak of alarm shot up Brevity’s neck. “Are you—”
“Cold,” he mumbled between clenched teeth.
“Look,” Probity said, with a distant kind of awe.
Brevity followed the line of Probity’s attention to the neck of Gaiety’s tunic. His skin was naturally darker there, a sweeter rose than pink. But as she watched, it paled before her eyes, fading from almost red to pink to a pastel kind of coral, until it started to turn white.
“Shirt off!” Brevity batted at the muse’s shirt, alarm rising. When she managed to pull the shirt over his head, the dot of black ink had not grown but was racing in increasingly more frantic patterns over his chest. “What’s it doing?”
“Absorbing,” Probity breathed, sounding almost faint with disbelief. She lifted a hand, hovering over the small liquid bead as it swept and swooped over Gaiety’s fading collarbone. “It’s absorbing bits of him.”
“We need to stop this!” Brevity turned and ran for the bag she’d left in the corner. She came up with the pad of blotter sheets, but Probity was already stripping Verve to see the same thing there.
“They aren’t absorbing the ink, like the humans; the ink is absorbing them.” Probity’s voice was full of awe. “But absorbing what parts? I wonder. Where does it end? What does it take and what does it leave behind?”
“Probably not healthy parts,” Brevity said. She ran back over and attempted to smack the blotter down on the ink, but the droplet beaded and darted away every time she got near. Gaiety was nearly white by now, and Verve had turned a sickly shade of yellow. “We’ve got to stop this now.”