Crossing my legs, I spread the map out before me, positioning it so that true north matched with the north on the map. With my left hand, I reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt. I clenched it in my fingers, allowing the energy from the earth to caress my hand and filter through my skin to the rest of my body. In truth, it worked just as well as Trixie’s tea to ease my pains and it shouldn’t have.
Humans didn’t have the same close connection to the earth as the elves, pixies, trolls, and other nature-linked creatures who filled this world. And yet I could still feel the energy, use it, and let it heal me. I never got a chance to find out why. When I was a child among the warlocks, I didn’t see any other children so I couldn’t ask anyone else my own age if what I was sensing was normal. And with the warlocks, you just didn’t ask questions. You did as you were told and prayed that you lived to see the next day.
With a frustrated grunt, I pushed aside thoughts of Simon and my past. The combination of my run-in with the old warlock and my talk with Trixie had left me dwelling too much on things that I couldn’t change. It didn’t do anyone any good to think about the past, and in this case, it certainly wasn’t helping me with my little problem of Tera and the grim reaper. Unclenching my fist, I carefully sprinkled the dirt across the map, linking the piece of paper to the earth. More specifically, I was linking the map of the area to this specific part of the city, narrowing my search for my old mentor Sparks.
Picking up the crystal from where I had set it beside my right hip, I cupped it in both hands and brought it to my lips where I released a warm, slow breath across it to awaken the magic captured within the fractals of the small piece of quartz. Gripping it in my left hand, I turned my right arm over and scratched a long line in my arm by using the tip of the crystal. I waited until a bead of blood welled up in one spot where I had broken the skin. Touching the tip of the quartz to the bead, the blood was sucked up into the crystal, yet its perfect clarity never wavered. I had made my offering for the spell and I could now begin my search. My only hope was that Sparks was still in the city. This wouldn’t work with the same kind of accuracy using a map of the entire U.S. And it definitely wouldn’t do anything if Simon or one of the guardians had taken the time to kill him.
I closed my eyes and rolled my shoulders once to ease some of the tension from my body as I centered my thoughts on my old tattooing mentor. Holding the leather thong with the tips of the fingers of my left hand, the crystal dangled free a few inches above the map. “Atticus Sparks,” I murmured. “Find Atticus Sparks. Early sixties with gray hair and gray eyes. Potion stirrer. Smells of marigolds when working potions.” The more details I could give the scrying crystal, the greater the likelihood that I would be able to locate him accurately.
When I opened my eyes, my heart sank when I found that the crystal hung completely still despite my descriptions. This was not good. Clenching my teeth and pushing back the building fear and frustration, I closed my eyes again as I pulled up distinct memories of Sparks while I was his apprentice. I remembered the way that he used to shuffle through the parlor in a pair of worn leather moccasins. I recalled that even when he wasn’t tattooing, his left hand was kept in the formation of holding a tattooing machine. The scent of the incense he used to burn came back to me. He always had incense or candles burning to overcome the scent of the Chinese restaurant that was next door.
This time, I could feel the leather thong beginning to twist and move in my fingertips. I looked down to find that the crystal had begun swinging around in an ever growing circle so that it now encompassed the entire map. It was searching the entire city for him, sending out magical vibrations with markings that matched the descriptions I had given of him. I concentrated harder, watching the crystal finally start to slow in its revolutions around the map, its circles growing smaller. At the same time, I could feel a slight pressure on my hand, moving it toward the right so that when the crystal stopped it wouldn’t be in the dead center of the map once again.
Nearly ten minutes ticked by before the crystal finally settled on the map on the opposite side of town. The color of the stone had changed from a perfect clear crystal to a murky pink. Slowly, I dragged the crystal across the map while leaning as close as possible so that I could make out the different streets—both business and residential. After a while, the color turned sharply from pink to bright blood red. I had found him. Sparks was living on the west side of town on Berkman Street in Over the Rhine.
I stared at the map, my stomach sinking. I complained about the part of town where Asylum was located. At night here, it was good if you kept one eye looking over your shoulder as you walked down the street, and it was even better if you weren’t alone, but by day, the place was perfectly safe, if a little run-down.
Over the Rhine was different. There were few safe parts to the area and there was no good time of day. Sure, in the hope of attracting new businesses, the city was trying to clean it up with more cops and an infusion of money to help repair some of the crumbling buildings, but no one wanted to be in OTR, as the locals called it. You ended up in OTR because you either didn’t have any money or you were hiding. I was afraid to ask which was the case for Sparks. I didn’t have the time to get dragged down by some mess that he’d gotten himself into when I had death breathing down my neck. Normally, I’d jump at the chance to help my old mentor, but right now was not a good time.
Picking up the map, I let the dirt fall off the paper before folding it up again. As I rose to my feet, I shoved the crystal into my pocket and put the map back on the workbench. I knew where I was going. Pausing, I found my gaze snagging on a dusty wooden box with a brass lock. I hadn’t touched that box since I had placed it down here after buying the building. My older brother, Robert, had given me the wooden box just before I left home for the second time. When the warlocks had taken me at the age of seven, I had not been permitted to take anything from my former life. When I returned at age sixteen, and then soon left in hopes of protecting my family, I had taken only a few things. Robert had been home from college and he’d given me the wooden box, filled with trinkets from our childhood. The few good memories that we had together.
With my hands flat on the top of the workbench, I stared at the box, my heart pounding in my chest. The original contents of the box had been moved to a cedar chest in my apartment, and I had put something entirely different in the box. I had hidden it from the council when I had been banished, claiming that it had been broken when I fought with Simon. This alone would earn my execution.
I reached into my pocket with my right hand and withdrew my keys. Selecting the smallest one on the ring, I inserted it into the tiny padlock hanging on the front of the box and turned it. The padlock came loose with a little click, falling away from where it had hung. I drew in a deep breath as I opened the long, narrow box and found a smooth stick from a Hawthorn tree nestled against a bed of black velvet. My wand. I hadn’t touched it since leaving the Ivory Towers. I had returned to the world of my birth and packed it away in this wooden box so that I could never be accused of breaking our agreement. For defensive magic, I didn’t need a wand. But with Simon once again hounding my steps, I was beyond just defensive magic.
I picked up the wand with my right hand, curling my fingers around the stick. An instant connection locked between the wood and my hand, sending a charge of energy through me to the tip of the wand and then back again. The world around me shifted, as if moving into focus. The glass jars filled with potion ingredients seemed brighter, the walls seemed thicker, while the dark brown of the earth beneath my feet seemed richer in color. The world around me was suddenly more.
The council would crush me without a moment’s hesitation if I was caught holding my wand. It was supposed to have been destroyed. I had shown them a broken stick that I had imbued with just a taste of energy so they would believe it was my former wand. Simon had not been at the hearing to contradict my claim, as he had been recovering from our fight. Unfortunately, the alternativ
e was facing Simon yet again without the wand. I wasn’t sure that I would last much longer. He was proving trickier than I remembered.
Bending down, I jerked up my right jeans leg and stuffed the wand into my sock and shoe. It was far from comfortable, but it would be safe from harm and detection. At least, I hoped it would be. I was running out of other options.
I stood before the bench again and replaced the lock before shoving my keys back into my pocket. Everything was back to looking as it had. Grabbing the bowl Trixie had brought down, I paused before the pentagram and recast the protective spells that I maintained for my private domain in the basement. With everything reset as I had always kept it, I turned off the light and climbed the stairs.
As I reached the main floor, I was greeted with the comforting buzz caused by the tattoo machine as Trixie worked on a client. It was a relief that someone had come into the shop, as it gave her something to focus on other than what I was doing in the basement or, even worse, who I was. My mind settled back into this world, while thoughts of my former life drifted back to the deep shadows of my memory. The faint smell of antiseptic wrapped me in a feeling of security.
After closing the trapdoor and putting my bag back over it, I placed the bowl on the counter. I stopped in front of one of the mirrors that lined the walls and grimaced. My clothes were dirty but didn’t appear to have any new holes in them. I looked ragged and my hair was sticking up in all directions, giving me a wild and hunted look, which fit my mood. I could use a drink, and a cigarette sounded good, even if I didn’t smoke; anything to calm my frazzled nerves. A warlock was hunting me and possessed part of my soul, the guardians were hounding my every step, and now the grim reaper was tapping his watch as he impatiently waited for me to clean up the mess I had made. And then there was Trixie. Lost in my own problems, I had forgotten that I’d found her sleeping in the shop this afternoon because she was now on the run from someone. I couldn’t let that go without helping her.
Shoving my hands through my hair, I tried to smooth it down slightly, give it some order. Once I talked to Sparks and got some answers that might help me climb out of this endless pit, I would see if I could pry some information out of Trixie. It might be a little easier now that she knew my big secret. Of course, that could always work against me and she could be gone when I returned to the shop later today. No one wanted to know a warlock, particularly one gone rogue.
After calling for a taxicab on my cell phone, I entered the main tattoo parlor and found Trixie working on a muscular man’s bicep in what looked to be a tribal tattoo that would wrap around his upper arm. She looked up and shot me a crooked grin that I knew too well. We were both wondering when guys were finally going to get out of this phase that led them to believe tribals were cool. At first it was an interesting idea, particularly if the designs were well researched and possessed real symbols of protection that matched a person’s heritage. However, in 90 percent of the tribal bands we tattooed this was not the case. It was a matter of one guy imitating another because it was cool, and if you didn’t have some originality in the art on your body, what was the fucking point?
“How’re things here?” I asked as I walked over to the cabinets directly behind her client. I was grateful she had him positioned so that he was facing toward the front of the shop and couldn’t see what I was doing.
“No problems,” Trixie replied in her usual easygoing tone of voice, as if nothing in the world could ruffle her beautiful feathers. “We’ve had a few calls, but I’ve told people that you’re not inking today. Looks like you’re going to be busy for the next week or so.”
“That’s cool. Everything should be back in hand tomorrow. I’ve got a taxi coming now. You got it here?” I bent down to one of the lower cabinets and quietly pulled out one of the handguns.
“Fine here.” But this time there was a quaver in her voice. I knew without looking that she had seen the gun. To cut short the conversation, she immediately stepped on the foot pedal, starting up the tattooing machine again as she resumed her work on the client’s arm.
“Great,” I said as I headed toward the front of the shop. “Bronx will be here in a few hours, but I’m hoping to beat him into the shop so I can get some work done as well.”
“Good luck.”
If only it was that easy.
Chapter 12
Walking down the three cracked concrete steps to the sidewalk, I squinted in the midday sun, gazing up the street and then down as I waited for the taxi to arrive. My heart jerked in my chest when a man in dark robes stepped away from the wall where he was leaning a few buildings down and started walking toward me. Gideon didn’t look happy to see me, not that he ever did.
I quickly looked around, but no one else seemed to be reacting to the obvious presence of a warlock on the street. Perhaps I was the only one who could see him. He may have been trying not to cause a panic. Or maybe I wasn’t supposed to see him either, but the possession of my wand at that moment may have been sharpening my vision, allowing me to see through his cloaking spell. Regardless, neither of us wanted to make a scene for the others to witness.
Backpedaling, I moved into the shadows of the alley that ran along the side of my building and leaned against the wall, waiting for Gideon to reach me. The warlock appeared around the edge of the building and was on me in a flash, his narrow face twisted in anger. He wrapped his fists in my T-shirt as he pinned me against the brick wall. I glanced out of the mouth of the alley to see if anyone was watching us. A car that had been passing down the street at that moment halted strangely. I looked around and found a bird hanging in the air as it attempted to fly over the alley, seemingly trapped in midflight. The world had completely stopped and had become blanketed in a suffocating silence. Gideon had stopped time. My breath escaped me in a harsh exhalation and my heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t do that, hadn’t even the slightest clue as to how to do such a thing. It was as if we were trapped in a bubble outside of the world.
“It seems as if you can’t keep yourself out of trouble this week,” Gideon snarled, drawing my attention back to the enraged warlock, leaning close to me. “I had been hoping that my earlier visit might have had some kind of impact on you, but I can see that your arrogance made it impossible for you to heed my warning.”
The gun I had shoved in my pants was digging painfully into my back and it felt as if my sock was growing warm where I had stuffed my wand. If I made a grab for either of them, I was toast before I could pull it completely free. “Arrogance, nothing!” I countered, fighting the urge to push him off me. Gideon was pissed at me enough. I didn’t need to make it worse. In fact, I needed to find a way to calm him down so that he would at least try to listen to reason. “I was the one who was attacked. I was minding my own business.”
Gideon arched his eyebrows, mocking me. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“I didn’t start this!”
“And since you didn’t start it, you felt that it was okay for you to use some very aggressive spells, spells that don’t fall under the category of self-defense, which is the only thing you are currently permitted.”
“Damn it, Gideon! Simon Thorn attacked me! He attacked in broad daylight without any kind of provocation!”
Gideon released me suddenly, looking genuinely surprised. Apparently, whatever he was using to keep an eye on me permitted him to see what kind of spells I was casting, but not who I was casting them on. I was a little worried that he knew all the spells I had been casting. I might be able to argue my way out of some of them, but not the one that permitted me to rip off a part of Simon’s soul.
“Why was Master Thorn after you?” Gideon demanded in a deceptively soft voice.
Leaning my butt against the wall behind me, I bent over and dropped my face into my hands. I didn’t have time for this crap. The aches in my body seemed to throb to life again and I felt tired down to my bones. “I don’t know,” I said in a rough voice. “I was honestly hoping that he had forgott
en about me, but apparently not.”
“Don’t tell me you actually thought that?” Gideon scoffed. “You’re a blot, a blemish. You should never have been allowed to live and your very existence is an embarrassment for Master Thorn. Of course he wants you dead.”
“Well, that’s not what we agreed to!” Jerking upright again, I pushed off the wall with one foot and walked over to the guardian until I was in his face. “The council agreed to a live-and-let-live attitude so long as I didn’t use magic for anything other than self-defense. Simon’s the one breaking the agreement by coming after me. Hell, he’s not even supposed to know where I am. If anyone needs to be brought before the council, it’s Simon.”
“You know quite well that’s not going to happen,” Gideon replied in a low, warning tone. I got the message and backed a step away from him. There was no need to antagonize the warlock. At that moment, I desperately needed him on my side. If not, he was going to take me before the council. While Gideon had always been a harsh warden, he had also been fair. He could be reasoned with.
“Why now?” I paced down the alley, walking away from Gideon and the main street that ran by the front of the shop. I clenched and unclenched my fists at my sides in impotent frustration. “I haven’t done anything to capture Simon’s attention. I haven’t stepped out of line. If Simon hadn’t attacked me, you wouldn’t be here now.”
“Really?”
I swung around to look at him, a frown pulling at the corner of my mouth as my stomach twisted into a new knot. I didn’t like that look on his face.
“As I recall,” he continued with a slow drawl, “part of your agreement with the council was also anonymity. I believe you were forbidden to tell anyone of your past with the Ivory Towers.”
Trixie.
“Hell! I appeared from out of nowhere looking like I’d had the shit kicked out of me. And then she goes down into the basement and sees—”
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