“How about putting it on your upper arm? If we do it high enough, it will be covered by a uniform. Do you have the same regulations as a patrolman?”
“We’re supposed to. The force is getting more and more lax about it these days. But that spot suits me. A Celtic knot?”
“Yes, that’s what I was thinking. It’ll be ideal for weaving in the talismans. What kind did you want?”
“Just protection.”
“Are you sure? No love or wealth, strength or justice?”
“You could do a double protection. I’m partial to staying alive,” he said, half joking. A laugh rumbled out of his broad hair-covered chest.
“Let’s get started then. I need to chant while I do your ink so I’m sorry I won’t be very talkative.”
“That’s okay,” he said, as he met her eyes. “I find it peaceful. The chanting takes me back to my childhood. Having a beautiful woman doing the work doesn’t hurt.” She had to look away from him but she smiled all the same, tingling to her toes.
“Trouble,” Raven said.
“Shhh, you,” Thorn said. Sé barked out a laugh.
Thorn put on some gloves and prepped his skin. She set up her tray and got out her special inks. She pulled her chair up close to him to begin. The electricity between them was palpable.
When Thorn started to apply the ink, Sé sighed. She remembered the feel of his hair and forced herself to focus. She began to pierce and wipe, pierce and wipe, and slowly the image took shape. While she worked she chanted. The energy flowed from her to Sé and his breathing slowed down as it settled into him. The air soon was thick with magick and their pheromones. Raven bristled and cawed softly. Blue eyes met violet ones.
Thorn wound protection in and out of the knot every way she could think of. She used old magick, Irish magick. She used part of herself in the spelling. Gave herself willingly. When she was done it was alive with power and ancestral strength. They both could feel it.
Sé stretched and Thorn handed a mirror to him so he could look at it. He glanced at it and then returned the mirror to her. When she turned to him, he put his hand under her chin and lifted it so he could look in her eyes again.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. She’d been caught off guard by his touch. His skin was so warm, his hands rough yet gentle. He sent a flurry of emotion through her. He had a hungry expression and he started to lean into her like he was going to kiss her, but then thought better of it at the last minute. Thorn had been holding her breath and let it out slowly. She quickly put a bandage on his arm before she could think more about that almost kiss.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked, clearing his throat. He reached for his tee shirt and eased it over the new ink.
“On the house. Clear my name and we’ll call it even.”
“Thorn, I’m not one of those cops who go around asking for free stuff or special favors. I probably crossed the line, having you ink me while you were under investigation. Besides, I know how much energy goes into your spells. I need to repay that.”
“No, really, I’m giving it to you. It’s my gift.”
“Not now, but when this is over, how about you let me take you to dinner.”
“How about drinks instead?”
“What, you don’t eat?”
“Let’s start with drinks. I like to know how the restaurant handles their food,” Thorn said.
“Okay, drinks at Jupiter, first night I’m off after your name is cleared.”
“The microbrew on Shattuck?”
“Yeah, it’s great inside. Copper all over the walls.”
“I’ll have to make sure I have a night free too.”
“I’ll see you then. Bye.”
“Bye and be careful.”
Thorn locked up behind him. His bike roared as he turned it on, then he surged down the street. He might be a cop but he knew how to ride that machine. He just might have potential. She spun around, making her dress flare out. The first thing she saw was Raven’s all-knowing look.
“Don’t stare at me that way.”
“Your kind doesn’t mix with humans.”
“Just because I’m part magick doesn’t mean I can’t mix with a human. It could work.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
“Dash all my day dreams, why don’t you?”
“My little witchling, you are special. Don’t waste it on a human.”
“He’s not just any human, Raven. He has a touch of the sight. He saw I was a witch.”
“He’s still human. Trouble.”
“Ach! You and your Trouble! Let’s go hunt.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lord and Lady, hear my plea, to bring new friends at once to me. Strengthen old relationships, and offer fresh companionship to widen my circle of laughter and fun. And moral support with battles begun. Make for me some strong connections and guide good friends in my direction.
Just as Thorn was getting ready to go upstairs she heard a knock on the door. She glanced up to see three vampires, still as death. They only looked that way when they were feeling intense emotions, so Thorn assumed they were pissed. She expected this, since one of their own had been murdered and she was tied to him, but it still made her nervous to see them all riled up and on the hunt. She girded herself against their glamour before she went to the door to let them in.
Each personality was unique. James. Tall and awkward, favoring the stereotypical vampire attire, long leather trench and all black clothes. Long hair and silent leather boots. He fooled a lot of people into thinking he was uncoordinated. Thorn had seen him move so fast she couldn’t track him. He was lethal in every way and had a nasty temperament. He was at least five hundred years old. Age was a prerequisite to be on the council.
The other male in the group, Julian, was more refined and polished. He was a decent man, not too tall, shaved head and dressed in a tailored Ozwald Boateng suit. Julian was over seven hundred years old. He happened to live in San Francisco, in the Pacific Heights neighborhood.
Elizabeth, the feminine aspect of the trio, was petite and appeared to have ‘died’ in her teens. A truly deadly teenager and the oldest of the three, she was scary to most people but was a confidant of sorts to Thorn. They had corresponded and had several meetings before Thorn was granted permission to tattoo vampires. The two of them had always hit it off. Tonight she stood still, without even pretending to breathe, for Thorn’s benefit. It was a sign that she no longer cared about making Thorn comfortable. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
“What can I do for you this evening?” Thorn said, trying to mellow the situation.
“You know why we’ve come and don’t try to pretend you don’t, little witch,” James sneered.
“James,” Julian sighed. “Thorn, we’re here because of Richard, a client of yours the other night. What can you tell us about him?”
Thorn tried hard not to fidget. It would only show how uncomfortable she was and they would take it as a sign of weakness, or worse, guilt. “Richard made an appointment with me about four months ago for a tattoo.”
“Did he show up on time?” Elizabeth asked. “What was his state of mind?”
“He was on time and eager to have the work done. He was excited.”
Julian took a seat. “When did you finish the tattoo?” he asked.
“Around five o’clock. I was sure he had a bolt-hole set up because he was in a great mood still. He thanked me over and over again.” Thorn said, as she leaned against the display counter. She thought for a moment. “I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It might have been another vampire,” she explained. “It’s not unusual to have that happen. Sometimes they come to watch.”
“Did you warn him or did you just let him go to his demise?” James growled.
“Richard was already long gone. I had no way to warn him,” she said, leveling her eyes steadily at James, not backing down. “I had no reason to think he was in danger.”
>
“Hmph… she could be lying. She could have set the damn thing up,” James said.
“What would she have to gain from that, James?” Julian intervened, before James could get even more riled.
“I don’t trust witches,” James whispered, as he lunged for Thorn and in an instant he had her, his hot breath warming her neck.
“Easy, James,” Elizabeth said. He growled again and tightened his grip around Thorn’s neck, running his finger over her artery, finding her pulse. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her head began to throb. Panic seeped into her. Thorn knew if she used her magick James would kill her, so she kept a tight grip on it. The intake of air became harder and harder. Her vision started to gray around the edges. Raven danced on his perch and cawed loudly.
She spoke mind to mind with Raven, “Don’t intervene or they’ll kill us both!”
“Yes, my witchling.”
“James, that’s enough. Let her go,” Elizabeth commanded, waving her hand at him. She was the oldest and therefore the leader. Her word had to be obeyed or she would tear him apart, piece-by-piece, and she could. Her cute Mary Jane’s and school-girl outfit were purposefully misleading. James reluctantly tossed Thorn down. She tried not to gasp for air as her lungs burned and demanded it. Her fear scented the air, a fine wine for the vampires. James took a deep unnecessary breath and smirked at her. Thorn shuddered involuntarily.
“I’m sorry, Thorn,” Julian said, watching her with pity.
“It’s okay.” It came out as a hoarse whisper because her throat still hadn’t recovered. Julian shot James a scathing look.
“What kind of tattoo did you give Richard, Thorn?” Elizabeth asked.
“It was a dragon with talismans for wealth and protection woven into it. That’s the only part the killer cut out. I’ve seen the photos.”
“How did you see the photos?” Julian asked, snapping his head back to Thorn, with his full attention. James seethed.
“The police showed them to me. First they wanted me to verify that they were my tats, and then, because I’m a suspect, since I was the last person to see him and I did the tattoos.”
“That seems weak to me,” Elizabeth said, giving James a pointed look. James snarled, realizing he had to recognize a temporary truce.
“One of the detectives feels the same way, thank the Goddess.”
Elizabeth glided towards the door. “We’ll be in town at Julian’s if you hear anything else. We will be looking as well. Keep us posted.”
And with that, they left her shop and disappeared into the shadows. Thorn drew a deep breath that hurt her injured throat and then locked the door behind them. She got herself under control. Raven flew over to her arm for comfort. She made her way upstairs to try and find some sleep.
In a matter of days, she went from being a prosperous, well-respected business owner, to a witch suspected of heinous murders, by the human authorities and the vampire council. A sadistic murderer was out there harvesting her magickal talismans. What was she going to do about it.
CHAPTER NINE
For those who want the truth revealed, open thy hearts and secrets unseal. From now until after the memory ends, those who are now in this house will hear the truth from others’ mouths.
The next day, Thorn was sorting through the mail. She had slept restlessly. Tossing and turning all day long and Raven said she mumbled in her sleep. She carefully made piles of junk mail, bills and industry catalogues. Thorn never got any personal correspondence at the shop, but tucked away between the weekly shopper and Tattoo Artist Magazine was a letter addressed to Thorn. She held it for a moment wondering what it could be. She tossed the junk mail, grabbed the bills, tucked the magazines and catalogues under her arm and took the letter with her to the break room.
Thorn opened the letter and started to read:
I’ve been watching you. You’re my inspiration and someday we will work side by side. Stay away from that policeman. We are meant to be together.
Thorn grimaced. Now she had a stalker? Who the hell was watching her? It sent a cold shiver up her back and she sat down on a chair. She laid the letter down on the vintage white and chrome table and read it again. Thorn wondered if she should bring this up to Sé. She decided not to. She’d keep an eye out but wouldn’t bring it to his attention. She didn’t want him to think she was helpless, and this was probably nothing to worry about.
Thorn returned to the main room and its hum of activity. Machines going, people chatting, and excitement thick in the air. She had a few minutes before her first client was due so she pulled stock out of a cabinet for Jason to put in the display cases. T-shirts, key chains, and bumper stickers were the big sellers. She also sold a lot of her handmade lotions for tattoo aftercare. Their inventory was down. She would have to make up a batch soon.
“Jason, can you put this merchandise out? We’re starting to get low,” Thorn asked him, as he walked in the big glass door with Stained etched on it.
“Anything for you, boss,” he said with a wink. Thorn just looked at him. He blushed and went to get the stock to put away. She couldn’t believe he winked at her. That was a first. It wasn’t a bad thing exactly, just not expected. She wasn’t sure if it constituted crossing a line or not.
By then her first customer came in, a repeat customer, he was on his tenth tattoo, third by her. Thorn ushered him back to her chair.
“Hey, Harley, what’s up?”
“Not much, Thorn. Got a new bike since I seen ya last. A Hardtail.”
“Can’t go wrong with a Harley,” Thorn laughed.
“You still riding that crotch rocket?”
Thorn chuckled at his vulgar term for her racing bike. “Yeah, I am and I’m loving it. Not enough open space around here to really let loose though.”
“I hear ya there.”
“So you want to start a sleeve, Harley. You already have quite a few tattoos on this arm and I think we can fill it in nicely. We’ll start with the outline first,” Thorn said, as she put her gloves on.
“Whatever you say, Thorn, you’re the best.”
“Awww, thanks, Harley. You know, I’m still going to hurt you.”
“I’m counting on it,” he said, giving her a big belly laugh. Thorn smiled to herself as she readied her needles and ink. She traced the design out on Harley’s arm and then began to ink it in. When she started he sighed, reminding her of Sé.
“Thorn, I hear you’ve been having some trouble from the police. You okay?”
“Yeah, they just wanted info about some tats I’d done.” Thorn said, as she paused the machine and looked up at Harley.
“I heard there was some freak out there, killing people you tattooed. Hey, don’t let the police give you a hard time. If you’re worried about protection, me and the boys could set something up for you.”
“Thanks, Harley, but I think I’m safe enough.”
Thorn went back to work on his arm, but now she was worried. If her customers started to think they were in danger because of these killings, her business would be affected. This was her livelihood and that of her employees. Besides, she didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Then there was always one of her competitors ready to eat her up if she looked like she was failing.
CHAPTER TEN
The purity of light guide the way to gentle sleep. Hence may I be known for the peace that I keep. I will pass Morpheus on the road, so my spell for sleep is blessed.
Sé hadn’t been sleeping well since he’d caught this case. When he had a night off he spent most of it pacing the floor, or tossing and turning, his body unwilling to shut down. He was having one of those nights now. The case was going nowhere, and if they didn’t get a new lead soon, chances were they wouldn’t solve it. It was turning cold fast. Worse, Sé felt the killer was starting to get a taste for this. Scettico still favored Thorn, but Sé didn’t see it. He wasn’t ready to take her off the list of suspects yet, because he still didn’t know enough about her. She had the means and the opportunity,
but the motive just wasn’t there.
Just before dawn his beeper went off. He pushed back the blankets and groped for his pager. He called in. Another body had been found. Fuck. Sé rode his bike through the cold morning air, dodging cars in the early commute, directly to the crime scene, an abandoned building on the Oakland border. Some kids had been partying in it and found the body.
“Sé, over here,” Scettico called out.
Sé walked over to where his partner stood. “What have you found out so far?” he asked.
“Time of death was sometime between one and four last night,” he said, as he flipped through a little notebook. “Cause of death was decapitation, like the others. Same MO. Parts of her tattoo are missing too, like the others.” Scettico looked around disgustedly. “Pictures are still being taken.”
“I’m going to go look at her. Do we have a name yet?”
“Yeah, Azayrid Goldstone, age 42. Lives in Berkeley, one of these new age types, Wiccan or something like that.”
The hair on the back of Sé’s neck stood up. Who was targeting witches? And who was powerful enough to get away with it? Granted a Wiccan was not the same as a blood-born cailleach, but they still held power and were peaceful people. How did Richard fit into this? Was he a witch too? He had to ask Thorn. This was her world and her expertise. There were a lot of questions that needed answering and it all came back to Thorn.
Sé made his way to Azayrid, or to what was left of her. The coroner had courteously covered her head. Photographers were still taking pictures of her tats. Sé got in close to see them too. An image of an ancient oak tree twined halfway up her leg. Some of the roots had carefully been removed. It had been the perfect place to weave the talismans into the designs. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see what the killer had been after. This time a thorny branch had been wrapped around the victim’s wrist. A calling card, or a warning? That cop feeling hit him fullforce again. How much did he really know about Thorn? Was she capable of this? He was going to find out.
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