Angel's Ink

by Jocelynn Drake

  Chapter 17

  With a choke and a stutter, life in the shop returned to normal. I trudged back up the stairs right behind Trixie and held her back from entering the main tattooing room until Bronx finished up the client she had been working on. Her sudden appearance would shatter the spell I had embedded in his brain, and I preferred that he go about his business believing that a woman named Trixie didn’t work at Asylum. While we waited, I closed the door to the basement but didn’t replace the wards out of fear that Trixie might need to use it as a sudden hiding place should the elves make a second appearance that night.

  Once the man was bandaged up, the tattoo paid for, and he was out of the door, Trixie and I joined Bronx. The troll didn’t say anything but gave her a little pat on the shoulder before slumping in his chair. He didn’t need to ask any questions. He knew that the Royal Guard of the Summer Court was chasing Trixie for some reason. That was enough for him to defend his friend and coworker.

  Trixie flashed him a weak smile as she stood in front of her workstation and started to pull out the greasepaint for Bronx’s nightly pseudotattoo. “Thanks for covering that client for me.”

  “You owe me. He was a real squirmer. Couldn’t keep his butt still in the chair,” the troll complained.

  Trixie and I gave a little laugh at the image of the small man squirming under the attentions of the large troll as he tried to work the tiny needle along the man’s arm. “I can’t imagine it had anything to do with the scary tattoo artist doing the work,” I teased.

  “Bronx! Did you growl at the client?” Trixie added.

  “Not at first,” he admitted, getting us all laughing.

  Trixie came from behind her own tattooing chair and wrapped her arms around the troll’s neck, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “You’re just a big teddy bear in disguise and no one realizes it.”

  “Don’t give my secret away,” he said gruffly, but at the same time pointed to his other cheek for a kiss. Trixie laughingly obliged while giving him a hug.

  Trixie wasn’t far from the truth. Bronx was quiet and thoughtful. He was reflective and very purposeful in his decisions and his actions. It sometimes made him a slow tattoo artist because he was something of a perfectionist. Despite his frightening appearance, there was nothing brutal or scary about the troll. Unless someone attacked one of his friends, and then you could find yourself eating the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun in a matter of seconds. I’d had to replace the front plate-glass window of the shop three times because of clients who’d become too aggressive with Trixie. I never said a word. Just picked up the phone and dialed the number to the glass shop. He had only done what I wished I could have.

  Still chuckling at the silliness, I picked up the broom and dustpan while dragging one of the garbage cans behind me. I started with the task of cleaning up the broken glass. From the impact, the glass had scattered everywhere, forcing me to also drag out the vacuum cleaner to properly get it off the carpet as well. Clients came in as I cleaned, taking one look at me and another at the glass case, muttering comments under their breath before they were met by Trixie or Bronx.

  As midnight approached, I neared the completion of my cleaning. I paused, locking the front door. I could hear the buzzing of two tattooing machines, as both Trixie and Bronx were in the middle of designs. I flipped back the edge of the carpet nearest the glass case and got down on hands and knees with the broom. I carefully cleaned the bits of glass out of the pentagram that had been inscribed in the wood floor. I didn’t think the glass would interfere with the spell, but I didn’t need to take chances right now when I had so many problems building. I certainly couldn’t afford any surprises.

  With the carpet back in place, I unlocked the front door. Putting the broom and dustpan back where they belonged, I carried the glass-filled trash can out to the Dumpster and replaced the garbage bag while Trixie and Bronx finished up their work. Other than the broken glass case in the front lobby, the place looked normal again. I picked up the phone, but caught myself. It was after midnight. I would have to wait until I opened the shop on Tuesday to call the glass company for a replacement. I was so used to working late hours that I half-expected the rest of the world to work the same hours. The nice part was that with so many nocturnal creatures in the world, there were a lot of businesses that did keep late hours. Unfortunately, Johnston & Johnston Glassworks was a human-run company as far as I was aware, which meant that they closed around six in the evening. To make matters worse, tomorrow was Sunday, and Asylum was closed on Sunday and Monday. While the case would have to wait, the timing was perfect for fixing Tera’s tattoo, if I ever figured out how.

  Shoving both my hands in my pockets, I watched as my companions cleaned up their stations after finishing with their respective clients. The tattoos must have been relatively simple, because each had taken just over an hour to complete, from setting the outline to bandaging the site. I could only guess that both clients had also come in with their own designs, since I didn’t hear either go into the back room to complete a sketch or stir a potion. All in all, easy jobs.

  Unfortunately, I was starting to drag. I was usually out of the shop by now, but I knew that Trixie worked until a few hours later. If I left the shop, it meant that Trixie would have to retreat to the apartment upstairs because I would have to set all the protective spells before I left. Considering that it had been a slow, rotten day, I was trying to last as long as possible to give her a chance to make a little cash, but I didn’t know how much longer I was going to last without some coffee or an energy drink. I also had this lingering feeling that I was waiting for something, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was.

  The bell attached to the front door rang as a new customer pushed it open. Lethargically, I leaned around the doorjamb on my shoulder to see how many people had wandered into the shop. If it was enough, I might squeeze in one more job myself and then call it a night. I might have been busy all day, but I hadn’t done shit when it came to tattooing. Still, I was exhausted.

  To my surprise, Tera bounced into the shop with a smile bright enough to light the night. It was then that it finally dawned on me why I had been waiting around in the shop so late. I had called her earlier in the day and been hoping that she might finally call me back.

  “Gage!” she exclaimed as she rushed across the lobby of the tattoo parlor.

  “Hey, Tera,” I said, pushing away from the archway to enter the lobby. She paused at what was left of the glass case, her mouth falling open at the few large pieces of jagged glass that I couldn’t pull free, leaving it looking like a hungry mouth standing ready to devour the foolish. “Don’t worry about it,” I said with an absent wave of my hand as I walked around it. “It was just an angry customer. I’m glad you stopped by.”

  My words seemed to finally rip her attention free from the broken case, placing her wide eyes back on me. She rushed toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck in a fierce hug, nearly strangling me.

  “Oh my god, Gage!” she gasped, tightening her grip on me as if I meant to escape her. “I can’t even begin to thank you.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I replied in a choked voice, resisting the urge to try to pry her arms from around my neck. Sure, I was lying through my teeth, but I had to play this one cool if I was going to have another shot at her back. I couldn’t come right out and tell her she was immortal, that the grim reaper was demanding her soul, and that I just wasn’t chivalrous enough to give him mine instead of hers.

  She laughed, loosening her steely grip a little to hold me at arm’s length. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I just called you earlier today to make sure that you weren’t having any problems with the tattoo. Most people who get their entire back covered have a little trouble getting it clean the first time—”

  “No!” she cried. She fully released me and spun around in place hugging herself, this time to my relief. “The tattoo is wonderful! It’s absolutely per
fect!”

  Guilt ate at me like acid through tender stomach tissue. I knew what she was going to say. I knew why she was so blissfully excited without having to ask her, but I had to. I had a role to play in this farce, maybe as a bit of penance for the mess I’d made.

  “I’m so glad you like it,” I said, hating myself a little more with each word uttered. “I just did what you requested.”

  “I know you did more! You had to have done more.”

  “I don’t—”

  “The cancer is gone!” she exclaimed. Her words seemed to be accompanied by an unearthly silence as one song on the MP3 player ended at the same time and the chatter in the next room went completely dead. It was as if those four words echoed through the void, shattering all my hopes of keeping secrets from my companions and the rest of the world.

  “Really? That’s wonderful!” I forced the words up my throat like fat chunks of sludge. I was happy for her, but it burned that I was going to be the one to steal all of that away.

  “I went to the doctor this morning for a checkup and another round of tests. The doctor said that it’s all gone. All of the cancer is gone. In fact, I’m completely healthy in every way.” She closed the distance between us a second time and hugged me, a little more gently this time. “You’ve saved my life,” she whispered in a tear-choked tone of voice.

  Now I had to find a way to take it away from her again to save my own life. I thought I was going to be sick.

  Carefully, I grabbed her upper arms and pushed her from me so that she could look me in the eye. “I didn’t do anything, I swear. It’s just a tattoo of angel wings on your back in black ink. I don’t know what caused your cancer to disappear, but it wasn’t me.”

  “But—” she stammered, her eyes wide.

  “It wasn’t me,” I repeated firmly, but I softened my voice when I continued. “But that doesn’t mean this isn’t a wonderful thing that shouldn’t be thoroughly celebrated!”

  She jerkily nodded to me, her smile slipping back onto her lips, though confusion still lingered in her eyes. “Of course. I’ve been visiting with all my friends today and making plans again. After I was told about the cancer, I stopped making plans because I never knew how much time I had. But now that I have so much time, I can live again.”

  “Then let’s make plans to have drinks Monday night,” I suggested. It might be cutting it a little close, but this way I would have all day and night Sunday to try to track down a fix for her immortality and the shop would still be closed on Monday for me to do my work in secret.

  “Monday night? Not tonight? It’s not that late.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve been running since early this morning and it’s been a rough day,” I said with a heavy sigh. I grabbed one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “I wouldn’t be very good company, as I think I would fall asleep in my first drink. We can meet here at nine o’clock on Monday and make the rounds of the bars downtown. Remember, you’ve got time now.”

  “You’re right,” she said, her smile brightening. “I want to celebrate over several days and not try to cram it all into one night. It’s just now that I have a second chance at life, I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to keep moving and doing.”

  “I understand,” I said, forcing a smile to my lips while I was choking on my words. “But try to get some sleep. I don’t want you falling asleep on me when we’re just getting started.”

  “I will, I promise.” Tera laughed, giving me another quick hug. “I’ll see you Monday at nine. Be ready to party.”

  “I will,” I murmured as I watched her bounce out the door again, as bubbly as when she first came through it.

  I stood there staring at the door for more than a minute, my hand pressed to my churning stomach as I tried not to vomit. I had screwed up in such a major way and now the only way to undo my mess was to kill her. Closing my eyes, I let myself dream that there was another option, but I knew there wasn’t. If the grim reaper had someone scheduled to die, their soul was due for collection. It was not for me to step in and stop it. I was no god or great archangel or even demon that could put a halt to such things. I was a tattoo artist who stuck his nose into business that had nothing to do with him.

  I fought the urge to pick something up and throw it through the front window. I needed to hear the sound of something breaking. I needed to feel as if I had something within my power, but right now I was under the control of the grim reaper if I wanted to live. And I did want to live. I wasn’t ready to give up my life for someone else, no matter how I’d messed up.

  Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that I was not the one killing Tera. Cancer was. The grim reaper was calling in her debt to him; he wanted her soul. It had been scheduled long before I ever touched her. The only things I was killing were her hope, her dreams, her happiness while I pretended to be her friend so that she would allow me to stay close.

  The sound of high heels on the wood floor shattered my down-spiraling train of thoughts. My head jerked around to find Trixie standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her stomach, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. She had turned off the MP3 player, and the silence nearly crushed me. I didn’t need to look into the tattooing room to know that Bronx was also waiting for me to speak. They were both waiting for an answer to what they never should have heard.

  “You cured her cancer?” Trixie demanded in a cold voice when I didn’t speak.

  Clenching my teeth, I turned and walked into the tattooing room where Bronx was waiting. He sat in his chair, his large hands resting on his knees and his face expressionless. Trixie returned to her station and leaned against the counter. Her expression was dark and disapproving as she waited for my response.

  “Yes, I cured her cancer. Tera is perfectly healthy now,” I said numbly, trying to push back the overwhelming feeling of guilt.

  “Is this why TAPSS is now looking into the shop closely?” Bronx asked calmly. “Are they going to close the shop because of this?”

  “No, this tattoo has nothing to do with TAPSS. We’re not going to be closed,” I said, shoving one hand through my hair. I was exhausted to the bone between the worry and the fights that had filled my day. And now I had to look my friends in the eye and find a suitable lie that they would believe because I certainly couldn’t tell them I’d made the poor girl immortal. No one could know about her immortality. It was too dangerous. It was bad enough that I’d had to tell Sparks.

  “Did you cure her with magic?” Trixie demanded. “Is that why the warlocks and TAPSS have been sniffing around here so much? Is Tera the reason you haven’t been here today?”

  I felt this conversation slipping out of my control, like water through my fingers. I needed to soothe their well-founded fear, but I didn’t want to risk alienating them. They were not only my employees, but my friends as well. Two of the few friends I had, and I needed them. But I didn’t want to lie to them any more than I already had.

  “No, I didn’t use any form of magic on Tera. It was a potion, just like every tattoo I have ever done,” I said after releasing a slow, deep breath. So far, I was still telling the truth. “Unfortunately, there’s been an unexpected side effect from the potion I stirred, and I need to find a way to undo it. That’s why I haven’t been here today. I sought the advice of my mentor.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her about this side effect?” Trixie pressed. She still looked displeased with me and I couldn’t blame her.

  “I didn’t want to ruin her happiness. She just got her life back. I’ll talk to her when I see her on Monday.” It was the truth with a few exclusions. I would talk to her about what I had done and its impact on her existence, but only after I had completed the touch-up of her tattoo.

  Unfortunately, by Trixie’s expression I had a feeling that she didn’t completely believe me, but she kept her comments to herself, for which I was grateful.

  “What ingredients did you use in Tera’s tattoo potion?” Bronx inquired, drawing my gaze back to him
.

  I shook my head. “I’ll never say. The items were from my personal stores, and they will be destroyed once this is over. The items were more dangerous than I had expected, and I won’t allow them to fall into someone else’s hands.”

  “And what about TAPSS? What drew them here?” Trixie pressed.

  “Nothing to do with Tera,” I snapped, but quickly stopped myself, clenching my fists at my sides. I was the one who’d made this mess. I had no reason to be angry with Trixie or Bronx for their concern for me or their livelihoods, and it was more than obvious that I was jeopardizing both.

  When I was sure that I could speak again in a calm and even voice, I continued. “TAPSS was drawn here because of Russell Dalton’s complaints about his faulty luck tattoo. I think they might also know that I used magic when I was attacked the other day in the alley. That is all.”

  “Why hasn’t a warlock appeared tonight? You’ve been using magic for hours to protect Trixie,” Bronx asked. When a stricken look crossed my face, he merely smiled at me. “I may be just a troll, but even I can smell magic in the air. You’ve been casting one spell after another tonight with no heed to the consequences for yourself.”

  I wanted to ask him how long he had suspected. Like him, I could smell magic too. Particularly on heavy users, as it tended to cling to them like a second skin. Was it like that with me? I didn’t have the chance to ask.

  “Gage?” Trixie whispered in a fractured voice. Her crossed arms slid apart and fell to her sides where they thumped against the counter. I didn’t want her thinking about the warlocks and what hell might still come down on my head for what I’d been doing. She was worth the risk, worth risking my soul for. I wasn’t going to let her fall back into the hands of the Summer Court if she didn’t want to go.