Nightmare Ink by Marcella Burnard Read Free Book Online

Sushi. How may I help you?” Oki said in that absent, working-and-don’t-want-to-be voice she might have been born with.
    “How’s your written Japanese?”
    “Hey, Ice. Reading or writing?”
    “Translating a website. I’m trying to find information on how to capture or destroy rogue Ink.”
    Silence.
    “Am I supposed to know you need to know how to capture or destroy rogue Ink?” she finally asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Okay. Shoot me the URL. I’ll take a look and call you.”
    “Thanks, Oki.”
    “It beats slinging sushi.”
    ***
    In the morning, Anne produced her search warrant and a small army of geeks in suits. She stalked up on Isa blending and bottling ink in the basement of Nightmare Ink.
    “Are you taking my boxes or doing an on-site search?” Isa asked before the agent could do more than slap the warrant on the workbench.
    “On-site,” she gritted.
    Isa bit back a grin. Bless Steve’s as-a-friend phone call. She waved an ink-stained gloved hand in a shooing motion, enjoying every dismissive wave. The scent of sage and sweetgrass hung so heavy in the room she could almost see the pressure waves moving through the air. “Have fun.”
    She imagined she could hear the woman grinding her teeth as she turned tail and retreated.
    Anne must have come up empty-handed. To Isa’s disappointment, Agent Macquarie didn’t melt down in the shop. Nor did she follow up with a subpoena. She merely retired to the basement to help wrap the site investigation.
    Isa chafed at her slow healing leg and at Steve’s refusal to let her join the hunt for the escaped tattoo. Was that some misguided protective impulse on his part? Or AMBI orders?
    Each of the two nights after the dragon’s escape, as she’d dropped into sleep, she’d experienced the swell of desolation Kelli Solvang’s Ink had thrust at her. Was the dragon alive? Where was it? Could she destroy it even if she found it? Did she have that right?
    The third day after Kelli Solvang’s death, clouds promising rain blew in on a sweet-smelling wind out of the south. The snow turned to filthy slush.
    Oki still hadn’t called. So Isa spent a few hours putting a flat ink memorial tattoo on a woman from Detroit who’d come to town for her father’s funeral.
    Troy had a thick-set, eighteen-year-old man in his chair. The pair had their heads bent together. From the stray words Isa caught, she gathered they were discussing the client’s ink ambitions versus his budget.
    The investigation wrapped in the basement. Steve came upstairs, promising to have his cleaning team through before end of business tomorrow.
    Isa forgot to ask whose end of business.
    Leaving Troy and Nathalie to mind the shop, she bundled into her coat and braved the four-block walk to Okari Sushi.
    “Konbanwa, Isa-san,”
Oki’s father said from behind the sushi counter, bowing as she came through the door.
    “Konbanwa, Hiro-san,”
she replied before Oki came grinning to take her to a table.
    “Hey, what’s with the limp?” Oki asked.
    “The stuff you’re not supposed to know?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Might have something to do with the limp.”
    Oki frowned. “I didn’t realize what a big deal this was. The stuff you sent me? All log-in pages for the member’s only library archives. If you want in, you’ll have to join.”
    “I’ll need your help filling out the applications.”
    She nodded. “Mom’s out sick tonight. It’s just me and Dad. I’m trapped. Can I come by tomorrow before we open?”
    “That would be great.”
    “It’ll be good to get out,” she said, pulling a pencil from the bun she’d tied her shiny black hair into. “California roll?”
    Full of Dungeness crab, rice, nori, and green tea, Isa walked back to the shop, reveling in the fact that she could now go wherever she wanted in her shop without having cops yelling.
    “Hey, pretty lady. You look lonely,” a smooth, musical voice said as she strode toward her shop door.
    She glanced at the striking young man