Broken Ink by Pyke Jack L

Author:Pyke Jack L. [L., Pyke Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Mind Fucks

Black flecks of dried paint speckled the carpet at his feet, but Kiyen didn’t let his attention shift from the TV as he swept the final bits off the screen, ignoring the gritty feel under his hand. Dark sat outside. Helped with how the bed still slept upright against the window, blocking out the moonlight, the bedroom took a friendly seat next to it, keeping the same devious tone. He hadn’t bothered with a light, content just to let the thin pencil-line from the hall filter under the rim of the doorway and play out a little across the carpet, stretching the bits of paint into long shadows.

A hand stroked distractedly at his stomach, the ink finally starting to shift and uncurl into life. Maybe it was down to the unlocking that they’d stuttered away from being used downstairs with Harry. He’d never had it happen before. But his body had been put through hell recently, so maybe ink and mind were just out of sync, or playing up out of I needed to get laid spite. The ink and its ability to act on its own had played with his body long before he hit puberty. Usually when he told it to fuck off and sleep, it did, slithering around for a few moments like a hole full of male mating snakes frustrated with being told no.

No analgesic acted like that. It soaked into the skin; it didn’t get moody when it was told no. But that made the ink, what? Sometimes it was there, just on the edge of his thoughts, but it shifted and shunted out of focus, seeming to like its secrets, almost as much as MI7. At times he wondered if even MI7 knew what went into the ink. He didn’t, that was for sure.

MI7 liked to keep their secrets, especially when it came to knowing just exactly what went into the chemical composition of this shit. The ink certainly wasn’t your basic vodka, glycerine, propylene glycol, homemade bollocks. He did know it wasn’t supposed to have ended up in Scotch’s hands, being used in concentrate form as some twisted take on a rape drug. Growing up within MI7, under Jule’s hand, he’d figured how him, Connor, and Erin, were closer to what the ink was pulled together for. Mind manipulation was nothing new for any government; this just twisted it in ways most wouldn’t like. Not with how often they looked in a mirror. The likes of Fal had just paid the price afterwards with the diluted dosage.

Jule preferred the concentrate.

Kiyen shivered, then the feel of the TV screen was cool under his touch as he brushed gently over it.

He hadn’t told Harry everything that happened that night. Christ knows it had scared the hell out of him as a kid, and in many ways, still did.

He’d sat there with the bodies of those four kids up against the wall in that bedroom, not really understanding why lights had started to dance on the wall just above the kids.

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