Caleb thinks he stops breathing for a bit, because he’s looking at the Wolf. His Wolf. His Wolf, the creature that that lived in his subconscious mind for as long as he can remember, is staring back at him from the page in her hand. Zoey has taken his crude sketch and brought it to life. The lines and textures are much more subtle and precise, and she’s adjusted the angle slightly to add more depth to his body; somehow, she’s managed to capture his coiling strength and power, even though Caleb is sure that his drawing had in no way indicated that. The eyes are perfect too, just the exact shape of his Wolf’s, and she even shaded them with a red colored pencil.
Zoey says she’s too short for him to lie on a table, so she has him strip off his shirt and sit in a padded ergonomic chair that has him leaning forward over a torso rest. Caleb settles into the chair with his back to her, positioned so he’s looking directly into Mack’s empty sparse workstation as Zoey gets her equipment ready behind him. After a minute, the bell over the door rings, and, moments later, another breathtakingly beautiful woman walks through the saloon doors and into the workstation next to Mack’s.
“Hey ‘Bel,” Zoey calls. This must be Maribel, Caleb thinks, remembering the name from the portfolios. She’s tall with a long shock of straight black hair and blue-green eyes that seem to glow in stark contrast with it. Yep, definitely have to be a supermodel to work at this particular tattoo shop, Caleb thinks. He’s going to get an inferiority complex or something if he stays here too long.
“Hey girl,” Maribel, responds, smiling. “I got you coffee.” She comes over to and sets down a black paper cup with the logo from the coffee shop next door on Zoey’s desk. “Neat wolf,” she says, glancing down at the stencil Zoey’s preparing.
“Caleb drew it,” Zoey says. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Well not really,” Caleb protests. “I drew a very rough approximation of the wolf I wanted, and Zoey made it awesome,” he explains, not about to take credit for the magic that’s about to be permanently inked into his skin.
“Red eyes?” Maribel asks, her thick and perfectly sculpted black eyebrows rising slightly.
“Red eyes,” Zoey and Caleb say at the same time, and he thinks Maribel exchanges a look with Zoey that he can’t really see from his vantage point.
“Neat,” Maribel repeats, the music of her voice rich with meaning that confuses and compels Caleb. He watchers her walk over to Mack’s station and begin rummaging through his toolbox.
“He’s going to kill you if you take any more of his shit, ‘Bel,” Zoey calls.
“I’ll just tell him it was you. Duh.”
Zoey smirks and tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning forward to whisper conspiringly into his ear, loud enough for Maribel to hear. “I’m the only one allowed to touch Mack’s stuff, because I’m his favorite.”
Caleb smiles, but something twists in his chest. He doesn’t even know who this Mack guy is, but the idea of him with a woman like Zoey ignites an something like jealousy that confuses the hell out of him before he forces out of his mind.
“You may be his favorite,” Maribel says, “but that’s not why I’m not allowed to touch his stuff. He’s making up for our childhood and all those years our parents made us share toys. He hated sharing with me, and still does.” Maribel explains, walking back to her own station behind Mack’s, apparently not having found whatever she was looking for.
“That’s a pretty shitty quality in a twin,” Zoey remarks.
“So, uh, this is a family business?” Caleb interjects. If this Mack character is Maribel’s twin, then damn, he must be hot. Caleb’ strange jealousy might be the tiniest bit justified then.
“Just the Nolan twins,” Zoey answers.
“Although Zoey and Dante are practically family,” Maribel adds, something like sarcasm in her voice and a gleam in her oh-so-pretty eyes.
“Speaking of your bro, where the hell is he?” Zoey asks.
Maribel cackles. “Check your texts. He’s been on an epic bitch rant all morning because the universe hates him and loves to watch him suffer.”
“Oh no, what poor soul had the misfortune of pissing him off today?”
“Whoever is in charge of Sound Transit maintenance. Mechanical difficulties on the ferry, and he’s been stuck for an over hour in the middle of the Sound.” Maribel grins deviously, clearly loving her brother’s apparent torment.
Zoey laughs too. “Oh shit. Mack trapped on a boat with hundreds of other people? That is literally his hell. Has he gotten out of his car and glared the ferry engine into submission yet?”
“Or just jump overboard and swim to shore to get away from all the people he’s probably about two minutes from murdering.”
Dante pops in through the swinging doors. “I just suggested that to him,” he says, waving his phone. “He replied, and I quote, ‘you’re even dumber than you look if you think I’m going to leave the Camaro on the goddamned ferry.’”
The three of them laugh, and Caleb smiles even though he knows he’s not really in on the joke. He’s good at that.
Zoey takes pity on him, it seems, and explains. “Mack lives on Bainbridge Island, mostly because he likes being close to the forest and the water, but also because he hates being around people. Him getting stuck on the ferry is…well, it’s damn near poetic.”
Caleb raises an eyebrow. This guy is probably hot, but sounds kind of like a jerk. “Wow,” he says, “a twin who hates to share and a tattoo artist who hates people. This guy sounds like all kinds of well-adjusted.”
Dante and Maribel laugh. Mack sounds like a challenge. Caleb likes a challenge.
“Yeah, Mack’s a piece of work, but he’s our piece of work, right guys?” Zoey yells, earning a howl from Maribel and another laugh from Dante, who, while still very handsome, doesn’t seem as compelling to Caleb as he did the previous day.
Zoey places the stencil on his back and directs him to a wall-length mirror where she holds a hand mirror so he can see the placement and how the curves of the lines are in perfect harmony with the cut of his shoulder blade. He gives her the okay and a big smile and she gets him settled back on to the weird chair and gets to work.
The pain is minimal; he’s not sure if it's the placement of the tattoo or adrenaline or his utter delight at getting marked with his Wolf, but he definitely understands why some people say tattoos are addictive because he could get used to this. Zoey talks to him throughout, and it first it seems like she’s just trying to distract him from the pain but he quickly realizes that she is genuinely interested in getting to know him, and he is so glad, because for some reason Caleb can’t get enough gorgeous ball-busting women in his life, and is it way too dorky and lame to ask an entire tattoo parlor to be his friends?
After awhile, Maribel announces another text from Mack saying that the ferry had to be towed back and that he won’t be in at all today, which she seems much less amused by than before. Zoey pulls off her gloves as tosses them into the hazmat container without looking. “Well that sucks. I was going to make him help us choose the right shades of red for your wolf’s eyes, Caleb, but I guess that’s all me now.” She scoots her wheeled stool across the way in to Mack’s station and begins digging through his toolbox.
“I have complete faith in you, Zoey.” Caleb says, taking the break to stretch.
She scoots back over to him with several bottles of ink in various shades of red. She shakes a paire of them in one hand, the ball-bearings inside the bottles rattling hard the plastic, and sets them aside, unsatisfied. She shakes the other bottles and then spends sometime mixing them in various ratios, adding a drop of black or gray here and there. After several minutes, she seems happy with the color she’s created. Caleb can’t see it, but she hasn’t steered him wrong yet, so he trusts her to make the call.
And it’s a good call. Thirty minutes later he’s back to awkwardly looking at his back with the hand mirror, and his knees nearly buckle at the beauty of the tattoo.. It’s as if Zoey had been in his dr
eams all along, memorizing his Wolf right along with him, because she has captured him perfectly, right down to his almost-human eyebrows. The red of his eyes is perfect, the ink layered and blended perfectly so they’re the exact color of his Wolf’s.
It’s more than he could have hoped for, more than he thought possible. His eyes feel hot and blur with tears as he realizes that this is the first time he’s seen his Wolf when he’s been awake. “It’s perfect,” he says, voice quiet as he wipes a tear away with the back of his hand. “It’s perfect, Zoey. Thank you.”
She doesn’t look at him like he’s crazy for crying, and it makes him want to hug her. He doesn’t, but the way she lightly squeezes his arm lets him know that she gets it.
Zoey takes a few photos with her camera, and he has her take a few with his phone before she bandages him up. He leaves with aftercare instructions (Zoey: “Unscented, plain as fuck lotion only. Under no circumstances do you put whatever frilly lotion you use to jack off on this, do you hear me, Caleb?” Caleb: “Zoey, I’m an adult. I jack off with lube, thank you very much”) and a touch-up appointment scheduled for a month later. Zoey hugs him goodbye and tells him not to be a stranger. He’s so happy it feels like he floats all the way home.
That night, the dream changes.
This time, when the Wolf walks toward him, Caleb steps forward. He’s never been able to move in the dream before, and the Wolf looks as surprised as he feels. He takes another step, and approaches the Wolf cautiously, not wanting to alarm him. The Wolf stops, tilts his head, and then yips, quietly once, and then again more loudly. Finally. The voice in Caleb’s head isn’t his own, and he doesn’t recognize it. It speaks again. Let’s go.
And so he goes. He follows the Wolf out of the meadow, and as soon as they get to the trees the Wolf starts to run in a slow lope that Caleb finds he can easily match pace with. His eyes meet Wolf’s as they run together, and there’s something like joy in their firey red depths, the same joy Caleb feels., He laughs, the happiness bubbling through him unlike anything he’s ever known.
All night, they run, together.
4
A month later, on the day of his touch up appointment, Caleb spends the day helping Abbie move into her new place in Fremont. Zoey schedules her touch-ups for the last hour of the day the shop is open, so Caleb’s appointment isn’t until 8pm, but they’re still unpacking when its time for him to catch the bus. He apologizes to Abbie for running out on her before they’re done and they agree to meet up afterwards for a drink.
Riding the bus to Triskele once again, Caleb thinks about the Wolf dream. It’s been much more more frequent since he got the tattoo – not every night, but a couple times of week like when he was a kid. Sometimes they run through the forest like that first night, and sometimes the Wolf meets him in the middle of the meadow and lies near his feet, never close enough to touch. Caleb often wakes with his hands curled in his pillow, seeking warm fur that lies just out of reach.
Despite that, the dreams have him feeling upbeat and cheerful, and remarkably, less lonely.
He stumbles into Triskele Tattoo with the bumbling grace of an excited puppy, tripping over his feet, but catches himself on something big and sturdy, which he grabs onto and uses to steady himself before bothering to look to see what it is.
Who it is, it turns out, because Caleb, to his dawning embarrassment, is leaning on and gripping tight to an impressively muscled chest. The mountain of a man towers over Caleb’s six feet, with broad shoulders and sculpted biceps that are testing the limits of the sleeves of the plain black t-shirt he wears. If his physique – to which Caleb is still awkwardly clinging – weren’t impressive enough, when he finally looks up to the man’s face, he’s utterly struck by his overwhelmingly beauty. His features are instantly familiar, and Caleb knows it’s because the man really does look like his twin sister, but he also can’t help but feel like there’s some other reason why he recognizes the man, but he can’t quite grasp it. He must be imagining it though – there’s no way he’d ever forget a face like his. Like Mack’s.
Caleb understands the word breathtaking now. Mack's features are quite similar to Maribel’s, but with a harder masculine edge that makes Caleb buzz with heat. He’s never swooned before, but he’s fairly certain that’s what he’s doing when he looks into Mack’s eyes.. Hazel seems like a pitifully inadequate word to describe them, and gold-speckled emerald is only a little better. Their indescribable color is electrified by the stark contrast between them and his black hair, which is just long enough to be casually mussed, with the barest hint of a widow’s peak that Caleb feels deeply compelled to put his mouth on while he traces his fingers along the back of his neck to see if it’s matched there. He’s got high-angled cheekbones matched in sharpness by his jawline, which is softened by inky black scruff, the beginnings of what surely must be a truly spectacular beard. And his eyebrows. They’re thick and dark and unruly and they shouldn’t be so damn hot but they are, especially the way they jump up in something that looks like shock or confusion, those eyes going wide as Mack reflexively grabs Caleb’ forearms and they stand there, clinging to each other, staring.
Finally, Mack lets go and takes a step back, his face going remarkably blank, and Caleb is man enough to admit to himself that its disappointing as hell, the absence of his touch. He pulls his own hands back and straightens up, runs a hand through his hair and then grabs at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous. “Um, hi,” he manages to squeak out. He should really just walk away and save whatever’s left of his dignity, but Caleb’s never been face-to-face with a god before, so he’s not backing away until he absolutely has to. Which might be pretty soon, because those eyebrows are starting to look downright menacing, but he takes that mostly as a challenge. A challenge he is more than able to rise to meet.
“You must be Mack,” he says, offering a handshake. “I’m Caleb.” He forgoes explaining how he knows who he is, because what he really feels like saying is your sister and your coworkers talked about you a lot and I assumed you were hot because your twin sister is and your art is incredible and can I please kiss you now, but he somehow manages to hold it in and play it cool. Or at leas as cool as someone as hopelessly spun as he feels possibly can.
Mack’s eyebrows settle down again, and after a beat he offers his own hand. Caleb finally tears his gaze from his face as they shake hands, and maybe he gasps just the tiniest bit when he sees that Mack’s right hand is tattooed from knuckles to wrist, and then up around his sculpted forearm and bicep too, the ink disappearing under the fabric of his shirt, an intricate labyrinth of black and gray that Caleb itches to get closer to, just like the rest of him. Mack’s hand in his is firm and warm, and when he finally speaks his voice his much gentler than he expects, and Caleb melts even more. “Hi…Caleb. It’s nice to meet you.” The way he says if makes it sound a bit like there’s a silent I guess? at the end of it, but Caleb will take what he can get.
But Mack doesn’t pull his hand away, and that is interesting. Caleb is trying to figure out what to say – his brain is suggesting either how are you real or please please please let me touch you I can make you feel so good I promise but he’s so good at controlling himself now – so he just stands there for a second with his mouth open like an idiot. Mack’s mouth is a wide, pink-red obscenity that’s just slightly open as he stares right back, revealing the tips of bright white teeth that Caleb can practically feel scrape across his jaw, his want for it is so bad.
“Caleb!” Dante hollers as he steps behind the counter, his voice jarring both he and Mack from whatever strange reverie they’re in. “It’s good to see you again, man.”
Dante’s smile is wide and genuine and so very much the antithesis of the just-shy-of-angry that seems to be Mack’s default expression. Caleb can’t help but smile back at him as he offers Dante a little wave. “Hey, man, what’s up.”
Mack steps away then, around Caleb and toward the door. “Excuse me,” he says brusquely, takin
g care to not brush his shoulder as he walks past him. He’s out the door before Caleb can respond, but his face must show his fluster.
“It’s Mack’s turn to get coffee,” Dante offers as way of explanation. “Come on back, Zoey’s been talking all day about how she’s excited to see you again.”
Zoey welcomes him with an aggressive hug whose strength that belies her short stature. The woman is strong. She seems genuinely happy to see Caleb, and they sit and catch up for awhile before she starts moving to set up her machine. They’re still chatting when a shadow falls over them and a black paper coffee cup is thrust under his nose.
Mack is glaring down at him with a wildly intense expression, like he’s trying to activate some latent mind control skill in order to force Caleb into accepting the cup. Confused, but definitely not mad about it, Caleb reaches for the cup, and tries not to squeal in delight as his fingers brush against Mack’s. “It’s just a hot chocolate,” Mack says gruffly. “I don’t know your coffee order…obviously,” he finishes weakly, and if Caleb didn’t know better he’d think Mack was embarrassed, but there’s no way in hell a man that gorgeous is ever embarrassed. But then again, before this moment, he never thought a man this beautiful would do something so absurdly adorable as to bring him a hot chocolate, let alone look bashful as he does, so who the hell’s to say?
“Thank you,” Caleb finally manages to sputter. “This is awesome, dude. Hot chocolate is awesome. You’re awesome.” Mack’s eyes haven’t left his and Caleb knows they’re doing that staring thing again, and his cheeks begin to flame and he knows they’re probably as red as his Wolf’s eyes, but he can’t seem to care. Vaguely, he can sense that Zoey is watching them, painted lips open in curious surprise, and he thinks he sees Maribel glance up from the tattoo she’s working on to watch too, a similar expression on her face.
“You’re welcome,” Mack says, and the corners of his mouth go up in the smallest, quickest smile Caleb has ever seen. Mack’s holding a full drink carrier in his other hand – the hand that isn’t still lingering on Caleb’ around the hot chocolate – but he doesn’t seem too interested in delivering the rest the cups, seems content to just stand there with his fingers underneath Caleb’ as they stare at each other.
Something Magic Page 3