Bound by Ink (A Living Ink Novel) Read Online Free Page B

magic into him the way Murmur had taught her, she tried to heal his physical wounds. Energy drained out of her. It healed nothing.
    Frowning, she renewed her grip on power and poured it into him once more.
    Nothing happened.
    What?
She sucked in a shaking breath.
    Chill air, reeking of gritty mud and charred rubber, burned her nose. Subtle pain crawled her psyche, not quite headache, not quite muscles burning. She opened her eyes.
    A flock of pigeons stood just outside her shield, heads jutting forward, then sliding back, feathers ruffling in the gusty breeze. When she looked at them, the flock cocked their heads in a strange, unified dance as each bird examined her.
    Waiting for her to offer food she didn’t have? Or had they been drawn by the energy of what she’d done? Isa hoped not. If they had been, it meant her shield had leaked. That could and would draw the Acts of Magic police. At best. She’d once been warned about how many worse things could be drawn to unshielded magic.
    With shaking hands, Isa tucked the stasis paper containing the whirlwind into her backpack.
    Why couldn’t she heal the bleeding man?
    The pigeons started into the air, feathers, the musty stink of pigeon dung, and the wind from their flapping wings sweeping her face.
    A hand closed around her upper arm and attempted to urge her to her feet.
    Isa expected Ria and swung her head to glare at him. She started at seeing the boulder wearing a suit instead.
    When her gaze met his, the man flinched.
    She hadn’t grounded.
    Isa’s lip curled. Served him right for barreling straight through her shield.
    His grip tightened. His lips moved. He pulled on her arm again.
    Ears still buzzing, Isa drew her shields back into her body. Her magic responded. What had she done wrong with the healing?
    Ria strode into her line of sight, his Glock in one hand as he approached. He spoke.
    She couldn’t make out what he said, but that he carried his gun openly told her he considered the man trying to haul her upright a threat.
    It occurred to her to heal the damage to her ears. The roar of gunfire that had deafened her would fade overnight, but she needed to hear now. Magic still simmered beneath the surface of her skin, bubbles rising up, and bursting in thick, oozy spatters. It stirred, rising into the damaged cells and cilia.
    The hand on her arm jerked away as if her use of magic had burned him. At least she actually heard the startled cry that accompanied his move. She could heal herself but not the man on the ground. Why?
    Ria snarled at her in Spanish Isa didn’t understand. He angled around to bring up the Glock.
    Aimed at the suit.
    Isa rose.
    “Ms. Romanchyk,” the man in the suit said, “my colleagues and I would like a word. If you’ll come with me.”
    “No,” Ria said, his voice flat. His knuckles showed white as his fingers tightened on the grip, and possibly the trigger, of his gun.
    “There’s been enough shooting for one day, don’t you think?” Isa said.
    “Absolutely,” the boulder said.
    Ria growled.
    “A friend of yours recommended we seek you out,” the man interrupted as if Ria didn’t stand there with a gun pointed at his heart. “George Tollefson. Come with me. I’ll take you to him.”
    Emanuel, Ria’s second-in-command, walked out of the line of parked cars behind the man, put his gun to the back of the boulder’s head, and cocked it. “
Señora
Ice goes nowhere.”
    “I don’t know you,” Isa said to the boulder, “and I don’t know anyone by the name you mentioned. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
    “You’re in danger here,” the boulder countered.
    “The guns are pointed at you,” she noted.
    “Walter is down. What’s one body more or less?” Emanuel asked.
    “Not in front of
Señora
Ice,” Ria said. He held out his left hand. “Isa?”
    She stepped behind him so as not to cross his line of fire. “I won’t touch you. I’m not grounded. And your friend is alive.”
    “
Bueno
,” he