Angel's Ink

by Jocelynn Drake

  “Interesting,” Reave murmured. He folded his hands together while remaining back in the shadows. I had little doubt that he also could sense the energy I had pulled together. “Since it seems that Bronx has a positive influence on you, I will generously allow him to serve as your backup. Think of him as someone to watch your back when you go on an errand for me.”

  “What?” I shouted at the dark elf, the exclamation bursting from me in a thoughtless rush. “You can’t do that! He doesn’t work for you.”

  “Of course he does.”

  “I left,” Bronx said.

  “You tried to, but look, here you are.”

  Stepping forward, I slapped both hands down on the table and leaned toward Reave so that I could clearly see his face. “He didn’t come back to you. He only came to get me. Let him out of this.”

  Reave smiled, his gray eyes seeming to peer into my soul. “He knew when he entered this building that he would have to return to my employment if he wanted to get you out. So he did, and I’m not letting him go. It’s not so much that he’s a fantastic errand boy. It’s more that his presence will make it easier for you to obey me. Accept it, Gage.”

  I shoved off the table and paced away from Reave. A quick glance around the bar revealed more than two dozen creatures lingering, closely watching the conversation. Too many for both Bronx and me to take on physically. My only means of successful attack was through magic. Kill Reave with magic and Gideon kills me. Refuse Reave’s offer and the dark elf hands me over to the Ivory Towers and probably still kills Bronx. Agree to his offer . . . and we both live.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I locked eyes with Bronx. There was no anger or blame in his gaze. He didn’t blame me for dragging him into this no-win situation, but I blamed myself. And I would find a way to get him out of this mess. To do that, we both had to live.

  “All right, Reave. You win,” I conceded, turning back around to face the Svartálfar. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Right now? Nothing.” There was a grin in the dark elf’s voice as he claimed his victory. “You’ve had a rough day and I would prefer to have you in top form when I send you to work. You’ll be contacted in a few days.”

  With that, we were dismissed from Reave’s presence, but I could feel the shackle on my ankle. The only plus was that it was likely that the grim reaper was going to claim my soul in two days, freeing me of Reave, but Bronx would still be trapped.

  Freddie stepped forward and motioned for Bronx and me to move toward the front door of the bar. Bronx followed me as we silently filed from the building, just grateful to be away from Reave and his companions. It wasn’t until we were standing on the sidewalk, under the moonlight, in the warm night air that I started to breathe again. Looking up at Bronx in the nearby lamplight, I frowned as the weight of what had happened crushed down on my chest.

  “Don’t say it,” Bronx warned. “I would have come no matter what. Reave would have found a way to drag me back in sooner or later. I’m just glad that he’s teamed us up. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

  “I’ll get you out of this,” I vowed, clenching my right hand in a fist at my side.

  “I know you will.” Bronx tilted his head down the street toward a row of parked cars. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  I paused, staring almost blindly down the street. The day had been a total bust. I had planned on contacting a few people, trying to dig up an answer to my problem with Tera and her immortality. Instead, I had spent it unconscious, lying in a pool of my own blood. What’s more, I still needed to figure out what to do about Trixie’s dilemma, and now I also had to find a way to get Bronx free of our current bind. I needed to think, and I didn’t do my best thinking at home.

  “I’m going to stop by the shop. I’ll catch a cab later.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded, forcing a smile on my lips when I really didn’t have anything to smile about.

  Bronx started down the street, toward his car, but stopped when he was only a couple of feet away. “I talked to Trixie just before I got here.”

  “She okay?”

  “Yeah, a little bored, but good.”

  “Did you . . . tell her . . . about this?”

  Bronx snorted and a wide grin cut across his face. “I’m not crazy. I’ll let you tell her.”

  Chuckling, I waved to Bronx before turning and heading in the opposite direction, toward the shop. The laughter quickly faded as I got closer to Asylum. On my giant list of things to do before my life and my friends’ lives were destroyed, I needed to first tackle Tera, the grim reaper, and the sticky problem of curing immortality. I could think of only one group that might know the answer and only one person who by some extraordinarily slim chance might be willing to help me. But asking wasn’t going to be easy.

  Chapter 22

  Light cut through the front window, sliding along the jagged glass teeth that rose from the edge of the case at the back of the lobby. The parlor was blanketed in a sickening, heavy silence. There was no magic in the air, as the antiglamour spell that generally encased the shop expired after twenty-four hours. There was no reason for me to reset it. I was hoping not to stay too long, and I wasn’t planning to welcome in any customers. Only one person was going to stop by the shop tonight.

  I thought about zipping up to the second-floor apartment to see Trixie, but I was only procrastinating. Seeing her would be a vain wish that she might be able to talk me out of my present course, which appeared to be quite suicidal at the moment. There wasn’t any other choice. If I wanted to help Trixie, if I wanted to help Bronx, I needed to help myself first and that meant contacting Gideon.

  Standing in the center of the lobby, on the old rug that covered up yet another of my crimes, I closed my eyes and focused on the energy swirling about me like small breezes dancing from all corners of the earth. Some energy I could use easily. Some energy I couldn’t touch. Some energy I refused to tap. Selecting from the bands of magic that hovered close, I placed a dampening shell over the shop so that no one could overhear my conversation. I paused, opening and closing my hands at my sides. Did I just send out a call for Gideon, summoning him to my side? Which I’m sure would just piss him off. Or did I cast a spell that I shouldn’t be using, and wait for him to show up to reprimand me? Which would also have him on my doorstep pissed off.

  I dropped my hands, slapping them against my legs as I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling. This was yet another no-win situation. I was going to piss off the man I really needed help from no matter what I did. And a mad Gideon was unlikely to be a helpful Gideon.

  A loud banging on the front door of the shop echoed through the empty building. I jumped, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste to twist around and see who was there. Just as my heart was returning to its normal pace, it skipped again at the sight of Gideon glaring at me through the window in the door. A small part of me was relieved to see that I didn’t have to summon him, but I was looking at a mad Gideon, which meant I’d already done something that pissed him off. Hell, this really was turning out to be a shitty day.

  Swallowing against the knot of anxiety that was tightening in my throat, I walked over to the door and unlocked it. Gideon was silent as he entered the room, not bothering to look directly at me as he swept by. This was one of the rare moments when I was alone in a room with Gideon. The warlock usually captured me while I was outside as I moved to or from my car. I think he liked to have plenty of room to knock the crap out of me. Now, the tattoo parlor felt smaller with him present, almost suffocating.

  I turned away from him and closed the door. The bolt had barely slid home when it felt as if a hand was snaking around my spine, jerking me off my feet as I was pulled backward across the room. My breath exploded from my lungs as I hit the glass case at the back of the lobby. Sitting on the floor, I looked up to find Gideon standing over me, his arms folded on his chest, looking less than pleased to be here.

  My thoughts
were a jumble as I struggled to think of what I had done that day to bring him to my doorstep. Other than getting beat up by a collection of trolls, ogres, and humans, it had been a quiet day. I had healed myself and cast a silence spell. Hardly stuff to catch his attention. Unless he was there because of the spells I’d been slinging around the previous night to protect Trixie. I inwardly cringed. That stuff would definitely catch his attention and put him in a foul mood.

  “Gideon, what a surprise,” I said around a groan as I tried to push to my feet. I might have healed from my earlier scuffle with Reave’s goons, but my body was still sore and resisting even more punishment.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “If this is about last night, I can explain—”

  Gideon paced away from me, wandering over to the large picture window to look up and down the street. If I hadn’t thought it to be completely impossible, I would have said he was nervous. “Save your stories.”

  Wincing at the pain that shot through my back as I got to my feet, I walked to the center of the room, cautiously approaching the warlock. “I had a good reason for what I did and no one was hurt. It was a type of self-defense.”

  Gideon turned to look at me, frowning. “Yes, but I’m sure that when the council handed down their decision, they made it clear that the self they were referring to was you, not an elf you happen to be infatuated with.”

  I stepped back, my mouth falling open. Not only did Gideon have me on that technicality, but he knew more about my life than I wanted to contemplate. The warlock was supposed to keep an eye on my magic use, not every moment of my life and who was in it.

  “She needed my help,” I said softly.

  “So I saw.” His frown faded as his eyes shifted over my shoulder. I twisted around to see that he was looking at the broken glass case. “I was surprised that you didn’t do something more . . . decisive when you were put through that.”

  “Are you serious?” I said, snapping back around to stare at him. “You would have had my head if I’d attacked them with magic. Err . . . right?”

  Gideon chuckled, a thin smile pulling at his mouth. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  “It’s one of the few joys I have in life.”

  I threw my hands up and walked over to the bench that lined the back wall. Flopping down on the hard surface, I extended my legs in front of me and crossed my ankles before crossing my arms over my chest. I should have been calm, reminding myself that he hadn’t beaten me to a pulp yet, threatened me, or even whisked me off to the North American Ivory Tower as he should have. Instead I was focused on the fact that the warlock was a freaking Peeping Tom. He sat back and watched my life unfold like some damned soap opera.

  “If you’re so aware of what I’ve been up to, why didn’t you do something about this afternoon when I was getting the shit knocked out of me?”

  Gideon slid his hands into the pockets of his expensive trousers and relaxed his stance, seeming genuinely amused by my question. “You mean, help you? I’m your warden, not your baby-sitter, Gage. When you get into a fight, you have to take care of it yourself.”

  “And you and the Towers don’t care that I was beaten because they know I’m a former warlock. They know because people witnessed my fight with Simon in the middle of the fucking day. If Simon hadn’t attacked me, today’s mess would never have happened.”

  “If you want to effectively hide your past, you have to do what all the other mortals do.”

  “And that is?”

  “Don’t fight back.”

  Slamming my feet on the floor, I stood and stomped over to the warlock. “Unless you’re planning to haul me in front of the council, or just do their dirty work now, leave. Leave now because I can’t take anymore. Nearly every witch and warlock I’ve met since I was seven has made my life a living hell. I don’t want to be one of you. I never did, but now I’m stuck tiptoeing around the lot of you for the rest of my life. To add to that, I could be hunted down by the people I’m trying to live among because I was sucked in by your group. I’m sick of it. Sick!”

  Gideon arched one eyebrow at me, but didn’t look all that perturbed by my outburst. “Are you done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Feel better?”

  I released a pent-up breath and it felt like all the anger and frustration whooshed out of my body with the air, leaving me feeling light headed and a little dazed. “Yeah,” I said with a giggle. “Now get out.”

  “As much as I would like to leave, I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  Gideon motioned to the lobby with both hands held out to his sides. “The silence spell. I can imagine only two reasons for your casting it. You’re either meeting with someone and don’t want me to hear, or you wanted to get my attention. As to the first, I will kindly offer a warning. You’re about a hairsbreadth away from me killing you, and a meeting that you don’t want me to hear will undoubtedly tip the scales toward death. As to the second, you must be in some serious trouble if you need to talk to me. I’m here. So get talking before the last of my good mood melts away.”

  I snorted. “This is a good mood?”

  “Have I killed you yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m in a good mood.”

  It was a struggle not to roll my eyes, but I managed. Gideon in a good mood. Next thing he was going to tell me was that he was actually a really nice guy and would prefer not to live with the other monsters in the Ivory Towers. Fat chance.

  Several seconds ticked by before I managed to get my mind back on track and focused on the most pertinent problem at hand. Tera. Grim reaper. Immortality. This wasn’t going to be an easy discussion, and after it was all done, I had to find a way to keep the feather out of Gideon’s hands as well as anyone else’s living in the Ivory Towers.

  Clenching and unclenching my hands in front of me, I walked to the door and checked the lock again, simply needing to be moving. A moving target was harder to hit, right? “It seems I’ve had a bit of a problem with a recent potion I stirred.” It was as good a start as any, allowing me to slowly work up to the issue at hand. I wanted to make him swear to never tell a soul or try to get the angel feather, but there wasn’t a chance of me getting a promise out of Gideon. I just had to plunge forward and try to repair the damage that had been done.

  “You? A bad potion? But you’re known to be such a stupendous tattoo artist.”

  I spun around on my heel and lurched at him. “Damn it! This is serious, Gideon,” I snapped.

  The warlock was considerate enough to finally wipe the smug look off his face and at least appear to be serious. “Fatal?”

  “No, not fatal,” I slowly said, looking away from him to stare at the intricate design of the rug under my feet.

  “Bad ingredients?”

  “No. As far as I can tell, the ingredients were perfect.”

  “Then what? What’s the issue here? You have to tell me plainly. I’m not in the mood for twenty questions and I have a number of other things I’d rather be doing tonight.”

  “I made a girl immortal.”

  Gideon’s mouth opened and closed three times without a sound being made. He looked like a fish out of water, gasping blindly for a breath. I had started to turn away from him, shoving one hand through my hair, when Gideon suddenly grasped my shoulders, turning me so that I had to face him.

  “Are you sure?” he demanded with a frightening desperation.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you? Did you try to kill her? She can’t die?”

  “Yes. I mean, no.”

  Gideon gave me a hard shake, his fingers biting into my arms. “Which is it?”

  “Yes, I’m sure!”

  “You tried to kill her?”

  “No, but a visit from a very angry grim reaper is pretty damn convincing. She also confirmed that her cancer is gone.”

  Gideon released me as if his fingers had been scorch
ed by my flesh. He took a couple of steps backward, the desperation and fear on his face replaced by cold nothingness. “Tell me everything.”

  I did. I started with the moment when Tera first walked into my shop, telling him everything that she told me that evening. I detailed to Gideon the thoughts that ran through my mind, the designs I came up with, and even the exact ingredients I used. He had to know it all if he was going to be able to help me. I kept talking, telling him about the visit from the grim reaper, my timetable, and Tera’s visit when she confirmed that she was completely cured.

  When I was finally done talking, I noticed that Gideon was now seated on the bench. Even in the dim light filling the room from the streetlamp, he looked paler. He stared blindly straight ahead, saying nothing.

  An uneasy silence filled the shop. There were a thousand things I wanted to say. I was afraid that he would just shrug his shoulders and walk away. He didn’t have to do anything. In two days, the grim reaper was going to kill me if I didn’t fix this. Gideon’s problems would be solved. But it was bigger than that. Someone couldn’t be left walking the earth immortal. Tera would figure it out eventually and it would cause massive problems. I didn’t say anything, waiting to see what decision Gideon reached before I panicked.

  The warlock’s voice was soft and haunted when he spoke. “You have to fix this.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, biting back my initial sarcastic response. Being an asshole wasn’t going to help Gideon think. “I agree.”

  “Have you told anyone what you’ve done? How you did it?” Gideon started speaking a little faster, as if his thoughts were starting to congeal once again.

  “Just my old tattooing mentor, Atticus Sparks. He’s the one who gave me . . . the—”

  “I get it,” he snapped, glaring at me. But his anger melted before my eyes and he shook his head. “It could have been worse.” Gideon leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees while dropping his head into his hands.