Invisible by Lorena McCourtney

Author:Lorena McCourtney
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, FIC022040, FIC026000, Suspense, Humour
ISBN: 9780800759537
Publisher: Fleming H. Revell Company
Published: 2004-07-31T18:30:00+00:00

ELEVEN

JOY WAS OPEN for business with extended hours, and, according to the files delivered by courier within moments of her arrival, she’d have plenty of clients lining up at the door any minute. Joy’s mind boggled at how Graus Claude could possibly keep this well-known secret a secret for long. She readied herself for a long shift reminiscent of late-night cram sessions for school. She could hardly believe that summer was almost over and senior year was almost here. Of course, before then she would have to answer to the Council, make a decision to keep her freedom or Ink and somehow manage to pay for—at last count—a signatura, her cell phone bill, another tank of gas, a glamour and a front door. She sighed and took out her scalpel, already regretting calling off her date with Ink.

He’d been hurt. She’d never broken a date before—they’d been too precious, too rare, too brief—and couldn’t come up with any good excuse so gave a lame, “Something came up,” which was true, but didn’t make it any easier. It was as if Ink could feel her withdrawal, catch the scent of withholding, the slightest pulling away, watching a strange distance yawn between them that he was uncertain how to avoid.

He had hesitated, watching, looking for clues, but she’d given him none. He’d left her at her door without another word, safe behind wards.

And she had left that safety as soon as he’d gone, taken the Kia and the scalpel and driven out to Dover Mill.

So much for No Stupid.

Joy shuffled her files and scanned the first entry just as her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen.

Where are you?!?!?

It was Stef, and Stef sounded pissed. Joy thumbed off the screen and plunked it into her purse. Let him find her, if he could. He could download an app. Or hire Kestrel to track her. She was staying here until she’d chipped away at some of her debt.

There was a sound on the stairs.

“Come in,” she called up and waited for the footfalls to draw closer.

And when they did, there was Ink.

Joy froze, her body tingling in all-over shock—scalpel in hand and hand on table—caught. Ink’s eyes were flat, reflecting none of the light, and his expression, which had always been hard to read before, was as blank as the slate wall.

“Ink—”

“No,” he said flatly. “No more lies.”

She swallowed. “I didn’t lie.” It was a stupid thing to say.

His chin tipped infinitesimally to the left. “What interesting things you say,” he said. “It is almost as if I am talking to the Bailiwick himself.”

She left the scalpel on the table and twisted her hands in her sleeves. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t...” She shook her head, rattled and rambling. “I just didn’t.”

“You ‘didn’t’?”

“Not that I couldn’t,” she said with honesty. “I could. And I didn’t. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—I didn’t know how or when or what to say...” She groped for the right thing to say. “I’m

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