He hobbled out, occasionally putting weight on his injured foreleg, as if testing it. Geoff had apparently walked the goats to the field, removed their collars, and walked away. He was approaching on the newly graveled driveway and together we watched the griffons. Just as Thunderbird neared the edge of the cornfield, Eagle Eye landed before him and dropped the carcass of a goat, then backed away, bowing his head.
The doc and I shared a glance.
Thunderbird reached out with his injured foreleg, gripping at the goat. He had no talons left to make the grip a sure one. So, carefully, he switched, putting his weight on that one, and gripped the carcass firmly with the talons on the other. Voicing a thunderous call to the air, he tore into the kill and began to eat.
That evening, Kirk dropped Johnny off just before seven. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, but he kissed me and launched himself up the stairs to take a quick shower and shave. The usual suspects showed up just after him. The diverse crowd was certainly atypical of a kid’s birthday party. Not only was the birthday girl the only child, she was the only mundane human among us.
When Johnny joined us, dinner was served and the party officially began, but Beverley and Ares were both already wearing birthday hats and, remarkably, the huge puppy tolerated it.
Nana had made chicken nuggets and cheesy potatoes as our guest of honor had requested. I ate two of the nuggets and more of the potatoes than I should have. After dinner, I presented the cake with ten pink candles. It set the room aglow. Johnny sang her a rocked-out version of “Happy Birthday.” Theo took pictures for me.
Beverley blew out the candles and the celebratory dessert was consumed while we passed Beverley’s joke book around and read random jokes aloud. Then it was on to the gift opening.
Theo’s BlackBerry beeped. She snapped another photograph, handed me the camera, and checked her phone. A moment later, she tapped me on the shoulder. “My source got a hit,” she whispered. “Can I use your computer?”
“Sure.” It had been returned to its usual spot after Nana’s room was finished.
Beverley was delighted with the iPod, digital camera, and clothes she received, but it was the electronic photo frame we’d all chipped in to get her that stole the show. Celia had preloaded it with pictures of Beverley’s mom, Lorrie. The images faded in and out, continually cycling through the files. We shared a tearful moment, Beverley hugging Celia tight.
When the party was over and Beverley was happily carrying her presents upstairs, Theo motioned Johnny and me over. “This is the Web site of a tattoo shop called the Arcane Ink Emporium.”
“Okay.” Not unlike the frame Beverley had just received, the site had a slideshow cycling through images of happy customers sporting their tattoos.
Theo clicked on the link to the staff page, scrolled down. The artists were listed with their photo and name to the left, and a paragraph about them to the right. At the bottom, an emoticon wearing dark sunglasses rested above the name Arcanum. The biography stated:
The elusive Arcanum has been tattooing professionally for nearly a decade and the edgy, innovative ideas of this artist won AIE the coveted Badass Needle Award and that national recognition made AIE one of the top-ten tat shops in the Continental USA. Five years running, our name has been in the top five.
If you want to wear the stimulating colors of this artist’s imagination in your flesh, you’ll have to be patient. Arcanum personally evaluates each potential client and the art they desire; applications available during regular business hours.
No guarantees are made about Arcanum’s availability or willingness to undertake your project.
Theo tapped her fingers irritably on the desktop. “It doesn’t even indicate whether Arcanum is male or female.”
“Where is this shop?” I asked.
Theo clicked the contact/directions link. “Pittsburgh.”
“Print that page. It’s got the address and the hours,” Johnny said. “Pittsburgh is only a few hours away. We can go tomorrow, arrive by eleven, and if all goes well we could be back in time for dinner.” He acknowledged Nana and added, “That is, if you can get Beverley from school and cook again.”
Nana frowned. “You’re supposed to move me into my new room!”
“I’ll do the bulk of that tonight, and the rest I’ll do when we get back. Lickety-split.” He grinned at Erik. “Remind me of that word later. I’ve got a new song forming even now.”
“I’m sure it’s not dirty, either,” Theo said.
“I need to talk to you, John,” Erik said. Without waiting he headed through the living room and continued on to the front porch. Johnny wiggled his tongue at us before joining Erik outside.
I focused on Theo. “Tell me you’ve found something on this SSTIX task force.”
“You’re not an easy customer, you know?” Her complaint was given in a light tone. “Government agents … their stuff is sealed and buried. I’m still working on it.”
Zhan was helping Mountain with cleanup. Celia joined Theo and me at the big dining table where they discussed the housing market—Theo was tired of her apartment and interested in buying a small home while the market was in the buyer’s favor. Nana was putting leftovers away so I went and started the dishes. Beverley must have heard the water and hurried down to help.
“You may have the night off from chores, birthday girl.”
She drew closer and whispered, “What are Johnny and Erik arguing about?”
“They’re arguing?”
“Outside. I heard ’em on my way down.”
Pulling away from her I said, “I’ll find out.” Without making any kind of announcement to the others, I crossed the dining room to the living room and neared the window overlooking the porch. The two wæres had stepped farther out into the yard, making their voices hard to hear, but they were definitely using unhappy tones. Thinking about the extras I’d picked up in being master to a twice-marked vampire, I listened harder.
“Yes I can!” Johnny stressed.
“How can you be a Domn Lup and a touring rock star, man?”
“Why do you presume there’s a line dividing those two roles?”
Erik muttered, “Common sense, maybe.”
“The Rege wants me to make the rounds with pretty pro-wære speeches. The two agendas can work together! I’ll just give those speeches in whatever town our show is in.”
“Our show? We don’t even have a contract, let alone a professional studio disc. I’m wasting my time, John, pissing away my shot by pinning it on someone who can’t do the job.”
“I can do the job.”
“Not both.”
“Stop it, all right? Don’t you get it? You’re telling me how the lines you’re drawing around me mean your failure. You just have to stop drawing those lines and let me prove it.”
“Prove what? We still don’t have a contract.”
“We had one from the vampire.”
Erik paused. “You’re not fucking serious?”
“If you’re not comfortable with that either, you big pussy, then maybe you’d feel better knowing that the Zvonul have to provide the Domn Lup with personal funds. Who says we can’t produce our own disc, shoot a video or two, and buy distribution from a midlevel label? Then we tour and make a name for ourselves.”
“And what name are we making? Lycanthropia: The pet project of the Domn Lup. That’d be as embarrassing as Paris Hilton making another album.” He paused. “And what would your justice-minded girlfriend think of you extorting funds from your higher-ups?”
“It wouldn’t be extortion. They want me to go out there and be the face of wærewolves today. What better way than through music?”
“Sure. Hard, rockin’ goth-industrial music that the majority of the population considers junk noise. The Zvonul will definitely want to promote that as the new wærewolf image.” Erik’s sarcasm held low, angry tones.
“I’ve said everything I can to convince you, Erik. Nothing’s good enough.”
“Won’t? Won’t?”
“I’m done, man. I’m out. Feral’s with me.” Feral was the nickname of Phil Jones, their bassist.
“You two discussed this already?”
“Yeah. We did.”
A long silent moment passed before Johnny said, “Well then, good luck in your next project.” The shushing of grass told me he was walking away.
“Tell Celia I’m ready to go,” Erik called.
I moved away from the window and headed back to the kitchen. Beverley was doing dishes. “Hey, you’re supposed to be having a free night.” I playfully pushed her away from the sink and took the sudsy plate and rag from her.
“I know.” She dried her hands. “What did you hear?”
“Hear about what?” Nana asked.
I gave Beverley a now-you’ve-done-it look. “Not much.”
That was when Johnny entered the front door. “Celia, Erik’s waiting for you in the car,” he called.
Celia asked for and got hugs from Beverley. Theo got one also and in the minutes that followed, both departed. Mountain left for his apartment and Zhan unrolled her sleeping bag on the couch. Johnny hefted every piece of furniture—except the bed—from Nana’s old room. I helped him maneuver the chest of drawers through the door, then he carried it down the stairs. He didn’t act as if anything was upsetting him, but his silence said enough.
By the time Beverley and Nana were ready to retire for the night, all that remained in Nana’s room was her bed and the clothes in her closet. Johnny and I each took an armload—his encompassed everything I couldn’t carry—and made the last trip down the stairs, around and into the new room. We dropped the clothes onto the new area rug and I set about resituating the items on their hangers and organizing them into some semblance of order. Not that it would matter to Nana.
“I’ve got this. Why don’t you go watch TV?” I asked.
Johnny passed me the hanger with Nana’s cabbage rose shirt on it. “Don’t want to disturb Zhan.”
“I thought disturbing people was a personal goal for you.”
“Just on stage.” After the words were spoken, he sighed.
Hands on hips, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Erik’s mad. Real mad. We have a rehearsal scheduled for tomorrow, and I assured him despite the Zvonul being around I’d make it to the practice studio. I clean forgot about it when I realized we might be able to go to Pittsburgh and find this Arcanum.” He spent the next thirty minutes or so letting me drag out of him what I already knew about Erik. “I know I screwed up. But he won’t let me make amends. It’s not like him. It makes me think this is about something other than the band.” We had moved on to Nana’s laundry, most of which I’d hung up. We were nearly done.
“What else could it be about?”
“If I knew, I’d be doing something about it.”
As I peered down into the laundry basket, all that remained were underwear and bras. “You going to help me fold her bloomers?” I held up a pair.
Johnny blinked. I’d seen him fight the Rege and the Omori, but wave an old woman’s underpants at him and it left him aghast with fear.
“How’d it go with Todd and Kirk?”
“I called Beau like you said; he drove over.” Johnny shook his head. “He brought a bottle of bourbon with him.”
“Ah ha. No wonder you didn’t come back all night.”
“You miss me?”
“Of course. But …”
“But what?”
I lifted my hair to let him see my neck. I wasn’t keeping secrets. “Maxine’s death taxed the vampire.”
He took a moment to hedge his reaction. “Did he behave himself?”
“He tried not to, but I insisted. He didn’t stay long.”
His jaw flexed, relaxed. “Good. Is he going to send another sentinel?”
I shrugged. “What’d you guys come up with, besides hangovers?”
“The Zvonul have to fund the Domn Lup. They won’t want me to have a day job. The guitar store will be able to replace me, but Strictly 7 will soon be out a painter and tech and that’s not a position that’s easy to fill.”
“Are you okay with that?”
He shrugged. “I’m not quitting until I’ve got someone trained. I won’t do that to them.”
My satellite phone rang. It was Theo. “Hello?”
“I did some digging on the Arcane Ink Emporium. Just a general query, how long they’ve had their licenses, whether they’re current, that sort of thing.”
“And?”
“This is too weird. It must be coincidence, but …”
“But what?”
“The licenses are in the name of AIE, but there’s no lease on file for the building. It’s privately owned, but the tat shop isn’t listed as the owner.”
“Who is?”
“Someone whose last name is Alcmedi. An Eris Alcmedi.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I thanked Theo and hung up. Dumping the last of Nana’s undergarments into the chest of drawers, I announced that the bathtub was calling out for me to come and soak.
“Can I join you?” Johnny quipped.
Just then, Nana passed by the door carrying a glass of milk. She called out, “It isn’t big enough for two.” Then she added, “Besides, you two should save your naked leisure activities for when the rest of us are sound asleep.”
My heart leaped to my throat, but Johnny laughed out loud and took me in his arms. “Demeter’s awesome.”
“Yeah. That’s definitely the word I was going to use.”
Johnny followed me up the stairs pinching my bottom, and while I gathered my pajamas, he crawled into bed with a notebook open to a fresh page with the words “Lickety Split” scrawled across the top.
I shut the bathroom door, started the water, and sat on the edge of my tub. My head dropped forward and my fingers kneaded the tight muscles in my neck and shoulders.
My mother owns the building Arcanum works in.
Damn it.
Can’t I just be done with her?
I slid into the warm water, eager to soak as I’d claimed, but the bath was actually a cover for what I truly meant to do: meditate and talk to Amenemhab.
Relaxing, I entered the meditative state I call alpha and visualized the familiar scenery. Beside the willow tree, I waded out into the water, ankle deep, and cleansed my chakras. When that was complete, I sloshed to the shore and saw the gray and tan jackal trotting up. “What’s troubling you?”
There’s never a prelude here. “My mother.”
“We knew you weren’t done hating her.” He sat on his haunches. “And that we would be doing a lot of work on the ‘challenge to your heart’ before we were through.”
After telling Amenemhab of her showing up at my house and my reaction, I concluded that part of the story with, “I’m just done with her.”
“So you said nothing. You shut the door in her face. That’s not a resolution, Persephone.”
“What’s to resolve? I’m done.”
He afforded me his most sage, “that’s what you think” expression. “Then why, pray tell, are you here?”
I explained about Johnny’s tattoos. “The best lead we have takes us to a tattoo artist in a building owned by my mother. I’m going to have to confront her to find out about this Arcanum person and see if she thinks he’d be willing to undo what he did to Johnny, or if we’re going to have to force him.” I sighed. “After what I did, she may be disinclined to help.”
“Hard to be done with someone if you need their help.”
“Exactly. So, here I am.”
“You don’t want her to shut the door in your face, hmmm?”
“Look, she nearly got me killed, dumped me, left me for Nana to raise. My reaction is justified. Hers never was.”
“Perhaps.” He lay down, crossed his front paws
. “This situation with your mother will never be over until you either truly let it go, or you accept it and go forward.”
“Then I accept that she hates me and I hate her and we will leave it at that and go forward.”
“If she hates you, why did she seek you out?”
“I don’t know,” I said, throwing my arms up in the air. “All I know is she didn’t look for me until it was made public that I’ve become court witch in a vampire’s haven. If that’s her motive, it speaks for itself. I just want it to be over, done, and behind me.”
“And it was … until she made her move. But now, to help Johnny, you have to make a move.”
“I hate chess analogies.” I couldn’t play chess. Checkers was as ambitious as I got with a checkerboard. “I guess you’re going to tell me that chess players gauge all their options and their opponent’s possible reactions to each before they decide on their move?”
“I apparently don’t have to.”
“I wanted my move to be a nullifying nonmove so I could remain in the ‘nothing is changing’ frame of mind,” I muttered.
“But that’s not an option if you have to confront her about the people in her building in order to accomplish Johnny’s goals.” He sat up. “You’re going to have to make a move toward acceptance.”
“Acceptance isn’t a light switch I can just flip on and off.”
“But it is time to shine some light on this. It’s been in the dark too long.”
I snorted. Just like a totem to twist my metaphors against me. “Okay, for argument’s sake, say I do move toward acceptance. That will alter that core fundamental issue that honed me into who I am. And going a step further, if I reexamine this and it’s ‘resolved,’ it may change things.”
“May? Something this big will change things. It will change you.” He lifted a paw and gestured at me. “Whether that change is for better or worse, depends on you.”
I was being asked to surrender the sorrow and pain that molded me, that had forged me to be a survivor, a fighter. “I can’t forgive her.”
“Can’t or won’t?” The jackal’s voice was as firm and demanding as I’d ever heard it.
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