by Linsey Hall
I staggered, bracing myself against the bathroom sink.
Holy fates, the dream.
I hadn’t remembered it at first, not with the stress of discovering the tattoo. But now I did.
What did it mean?
Just the idea of trying to unpack all the symbolism in the dream made me tired. I didn’t have time for it. Not now. Not when we maybe had a clue about the tattoos.
I needed to find the others.
I rushed out of the apartment, passing a conked-out Bojangles and Princess Snowflake III. Three open tuna cans sat on my counter, so they were clearly in a food coma.
I found everyone in the round room, as I’d expected. It was packed with people, most of them standing against the walls. Nearly everyone had a tattoo—over eighty percent of the staff had been abducted last week and given the terrible, cursed artwork. They couldn’t leave the castle, and while they did what they could in the library and armory to stay useful, there was still a sense of frustration that filled the air.
Even Arach was there, the ghostly dragon spirit presiding over the meeting in her near-human form. Her gaze was solemn as she watched the proceedings.
If Arach was at a meeting, you knew it was a big deal.
There were only about a dozen of us who could leave the castle grounds, plus the FireSouls, who’d agreed to help us look for a cure. Everyone who could leave the castle had set off, searching for other clues, trying to find the answer to the riddle of the terrible tattoo.
Jude stopped talking and looked up at me, her eyes brightening. “Ana! Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Lachlan’s eyes searched me, concern glinting in their depths. He rose, and I nodded at him.
“I’m fine.” I took the only seat left at the table, next to Lachlan and my sisters. “Where are we?”
“Everyone else is off hunting their own leads,” Jude said. “But it sounds like you, Lachlan, and Caro discovered something. You’re going to go find the Indomidae and see what they know. You can leave whenever you’re ready. I’ve given Lachlan instructions.”
“I can leave the castle grounds?” I asked, raising my hand to show the tattoo.
“Mordaca and Aerdeca assured us that the Mugwort potion they gave you would protect you for up to a week,” Lachlan said. “But if you prefer not—”
“No, no, I want to go. I just forgot.” I rubbed my head, trying to bring back other memories. It was all hazy, cloaked in memories of pain and fear. “Let’s go. I want to figure this the hell out.”
Lachlan squeezed my arm. “I thought you’d say that.”
The meeting ended a moment later. I stood, along with Lachlan and my sisters, and looked at them. “Looks like I missed all the boring bits.”
Rowan laughed, her dark hair gleaming. “Hardly.”
“Good work with Aerdeca and Mordaca,” Bree said. “That’s our first solid clue in days. The FireSouls almost found something yesterday, but no go. The clue was a dead end.”
“Damn.” I really hoped this panned out for us, then. “Where are you guys off to?”
“Jude found a contact in Darklane who has more Seawort,” Bree said.
“Really? That’s great.” Seawort was the primary ingredient in the potion that allowed people with the tattoo to leave the castle grounds. It couldn’t give them their magic back like the super rare Mugwort potion could, but it was valuable all the same.
“We’re off to get some,” Rowan said. “We need to increase the number of people who can leave. Not just to find the cure for this tattoo curse, but to defend the castle if the Fates ever find us and decide to attack.”
It was our greatest fear. If the castle walls fell, anyone with the tattoo would immediately become their slave. We needed that potion to protect them if that happened. Only then would we have the numbers we needed to fight back. The Seawort potion only lasted about a week, but that was long enough to fight off the Fates if they attacked the castle. Or die trying.
“Good luck finding enough Seawort for everyone.” I hugged them both. “Be careful.”
“You too.” Bree looked at Lachlan. “Watch out for our girl, all right?”
“I’m pretty sure she’ll watch out for me.”
I grinned, then waved goodbye to my sisters, who hurried off down the hall. I turned to Lachlan. “I want to go see the Indomidae alone. It’s too dangerous—you could end up with a cursed tattoo of your own.”
His gaze turned serious. “I’m coming, Ana.”
“I really don’t think you should.”
“You’re worth the risk.”
Warmth spread from my heart to my cheeks.
He squeezed my hand. “I mean it, Ana.”
I nodded. “All right, then. What exactly is on our agenda?”
“We’re headed to a town in the far northwest of Scotland where we can catch a boat that will take us to the whirlpool portal.”
I led the way out of the room, turning to look at him as we walked down the hall. “Why don’t you sound excited about that?”
“It’s an all-demon city.”
“Demonville?” I’d only ever heard of it, but the stories weren’t good.
“Aye. Jude assures me that the demons won’t attack us outright. She said that there’s a person there called the Seamstress who will help us. Jude said she’s a good one to visit—that she often gives a great deal of help.”
The Seamstress was a weird name, but I tabled that for a more pressing matter. “Why can’t we just get a boat from here? We’re on the far north coast.”
“We need a guide. And the North Sea is incredibly dangerous. It’s safer if we depart from Demonville. It’s closer to the whirlpool.”
“Fair enough.” We stepped into the entry hall, and my stomach grumbled. “Let’s swing by the kitchen and grab something to go. I’m famished.”
As if he’d read my mind, Hans stepped out of the door that led to the kitchen stairs, two paper sacks in his hands. His eyes brightened at the sight of us, and his mustache quivered. “Just the people I was looking for!”
I grinned. “I could say the same about you.”
He thrust out two bags. “Sandwiches and juice boxes for the road.”
I took them. “Thanks, Hans.”
“Good luck out there.” His normally jovial expression was serious, his face grim. Even Boris, who I now spotted sitting on top of his chef’s hat, had a downturn to his whiskers.
“We’ll figure this out,” I said. “Promise.”
Under any circumstances, I’d give it my all. But now? Even I had the tattoo. This fight had already been personal, but they’d taken it up a notch.
We said goodbye to Hans and departed, eating our sandwiches as we walked to the edge of the castle courtyard, where Lachlan normally created his portals.
Lachlan stopped and turned to me. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Good, because this is going to be dangerous.”
I had a feeling that was the understatement of the century.
3
Lachlan’s portal spit us out at the edge of a town. I blinked. It was one of the creepiest places I’d ever been. A dark cloud seemed to hover around it, and the sun was so deep in the clouds that the day looked like dusk.
I glanced at Lachlan. “This place scares the sun itself.”
“Aye, it’s not for the fainthearted.”
A sea breeze blew salty air, bringing with it the scent of weeds and dead fish. In the distance, the sound of waves crashed, but we were situated behind a slight hill, so I couldn’t see the ocean. The town was pressed right against it, however, so far at the edge of the world that it felt like the only town on the planet.
“We sure know how to pick them,” Lachlan said.
“Between this and the fairy tale village, we’ve been doing an extensive tour of creepy places.” I searched the backs of the houses that sat on the outskirts of town, looking for movement. I saw none. “Let’s go check it out.”
“A
ye.”
We approached the town. As we passed the row of outermost houses, a prickle of dark magic fizzed across my skin. I shivered.
“Yep, definitely a demon city,” I muttered.
“I’m surprised there are no guards,” Lachlan said.
“Who would want to come here?”
“Fair point. It’s miserable as hell and at the end of the world.”
I studied the buildings as we passed them. Most looked like really old cottages. The building styles were a collection of different periods, from medieval—which I recognized because it really did look like it was from a fairy tale—to the simpler, more modern nineteenth-century cottages. A few even had flowers growing outside, though they were all in shades of black or gray. Even the roses and daisies were colorless.
After a couple rows of houses, we entered the main town. The buildings pressed up against each other, rising two and three stories tall. The street was cobbled and narrow, winding between the buildings.
Rats scurried underfoot, more than I’d ever seen out in the open before. One of them turned to me and hissed, its yellow teeth glinting under the light of an oil street lamp.
“Good day to you, too,” I said.
The rat hissed again and scurried away, its little tail bobbing as he raced up a darkened alleyway.
“I bet he’s the friendliest figure we meet all day,” I said.
“Given a place like this, aye.”
“That hiss was almost a greeting.”
“A how-do-you-do.”
I grinned at him, delighted despite our dark surroundings. I liked that he could joke about a rat with me. It was ridiculous and wonderful.
We passed a pub next, and the joking faded. It was heaving with patrons from the sound of it, and I squinted through the window. The room within was filled with golden light, and it should have been a homey sight. It was, for the millisecond before I noticed all the horns and fangs.
Everyone in the building was a demon.
I shivered.
“Never been so close to so many demons without intending to start a fight,” I said.
“More like finish a fight, since they’re the ones who usually start them.”
“Good point. Let’s move on.” So far, the streets had been delightfully empty. “I’d rather find the Seamstress on our own, or at least ask a solo demon for directions. I’m not keen on hanging out with dozens of them.”
“Agreed,” Lachlan said.
Jude had said they wouldn’t kill us outright, but I had a smart mouth. I couldn’t guarantee that something wouldn’t get started. And with that many demons, our victory wasn’t certain.
We hurried on, canvassing the streets for the Seamstress’s shop. We passed a few demons, but each crossed the street to avoid us. Even they weren’t really comfortable here.
Finally, we ran into a demon who didn’t cross the street. He leaned against a shop building, smoking a cigarette that smelled like old weeds.
He was big and burly, about Lachlan’s size, but broader. Which was saying something, since Lachlan wasn’t a skinny guy. The demon’s horns were about a foot long and decorated with silver wire. His burnished red skin was complemented by jet-black eyes, and he looked like a perfect version of the devil. I wanted to ask if he had a forked tail, but kept my mouth shut. That would be a bad idea.
His black gaze traveled up and down our forms. “Not from around here.”
I turned to him. “Nope. Got any idea where the Seamstress is?”
“Why would you want to see her?”
“Got my reasons. Do you know?”
“I might know.” His eyes flicked down toward our pockets.
Lachlan got the hint before I did and reached into his pocket to tug out some money.
Ah, right. Bribery.
I grinned at the demon. “So you do know where she is.”
He held out his hand. Lachlan put a fifty-pound note in it.
“I know now,” the demon said. “Head up the street to Warlock Road and take a right. She’s the fourth building down on the right. You won’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” I nodded.
“But cross the street here. You don’t want to walk in front of the Necro’s door.” He pointed up the street.
“What’s the Necro?” Lachlan asked.
He grinned a fangy smile, then stubbed out his cigarette on the stone wall behind him. “You’ll figure it out.”
With that, he pushed off the wall and went back into the building.
I looked at Lachlan. “I don’t think we want to figure it out.”
“Aye. Let’s cross the street.”
We did as the demon advised, but I kept my eyes glued to the side of the road where the Necro was located.
The stink in the air grew stronger as we approached, taking on the unmistakable odor of death.
Understanding dawned. “Ah crap. The Necro is a necromancer.”
“Aye, that makes sense.”
The windows were full of body parts. Actual flipping body parts.
I shuddered. “Looks like a horror movie.”
Lachlan grabbed my hand and tugged me along. “Don’t look.”
I dragged my gaze away from the display window and trudged up the street, going as fast as I could without breaking into a run. Something told me that if you started running in this town, the locals would get real interested. Like the way a dog started chasing a cat if it began to run.
I was not going to be the cat. Especially not if the necromancer was chasing me.
We came to Warlock Road and turned right, striding down the narrow lane. The second house that we passed was built entirely of bone.
I stopped dead, staring at it. There were thousands of bones, maybe millions, all pressed tightly together and held in place by mortar.
“Holy fates,” I muttered. “Look at that.”
“Aye, hard to miss it.”
A voice whispered out from the house, creaky and light. “They’re all ethically sourced.”
I stifled a laugh. “Like from a murderous farmers’ market?”
The voice didn’t answer, and we’d lingered long enough. I started onward again. We should be nearly there.
As the smoking demon had said, the building was the fourth on the right. Two stories and built of a rustic dark wood, it didn’t look particularly creepy. The sign above the door said The Seamstress, and it was decorated with swirling thread that twisted around it.
“Well, it’s obvious at least.” I rapped on the door, hoping she was home.
A few moments later, it creaked open, revealing a tiny woman with grayish skin. Her dark hair was shiny and bright, her eyes a brilliant green. Tiny horns popped out of her hair, and each was inset with an emerald that matched her eyes. Her long green dress looked impeccably made, even to me, who knew nothing about clothes. A few pieces of spare cloth hung over her shoulder, like she’d been in the middle of working.
“Yes?” Her voice was light and curious, her eyes sharp.
“We need help.”
She held up a hand. “Say no more. Come in.”
Okay, that was easy. I glanced at Lachlan. He shrugged and nodded.
Warily, I stepped inside. Normally it wasn’t this easy. I didn’t trust it. But I also didn’t have any other options. The tattoo on my hand burned, reminding me that I didn’t have a lot of time.
The front entry to the building was cramped and small, but the room behind was a heck of a lot larger than I’d expected. It was dimly lit, but every inch was covered in fabric, and mannequins stood like sentries, each wearing a different outfit. They were all intricate works of art that had to take weeks to make.
Movement rustled through the space, fabric shifting and spools of thread floating through the air. I squinted, finally realizing that it was caused by rats and birds, each moving amongst the material, thread and scissors gripped in their jaws and claws.
“They’re my helpers,” the Seamstress said.
“Like Ci
nderella.”
She laughed. “She’s a goody-two-shoes copycat, and she knows it.”
I turned to her, a slightly weirded-out smile on my face. I liked this place. “Can you help us—”
She held up a hand again, cutting me off. “No, no. We do it my way.”
“Okay?”
She bustled up to me, three rats following in her wake. One carried a measuring tape, the loose end trailing behind it. Another carried a pair of scissors. The final carried a little leather folder.
“Up there.” The Seamstress pointed to a footstool.
I climbed onto it, my gaze never leaving the Seamstress.
She walked around me, tapping her lip with her fingertip and humming to herself. “Let’s see, let’s see. What do you need?”
The rats squeaked and the birds chirped.
“Ah, yes.” The Seamstress nodded. “You need a jacket.”
I looked down at the leather jacket I wore. I quite liked it. “Really?”
“Really. You live a dangerous life. I can see that. Therefore, you need a better jacket.”
I didn’t see how a jacket would help me with my dangerous life. Nor did I see how this was getting us any closer to the whirlpool that would take us to the Indomidae. “Um, but what about—”
She held up her hand again, and I shut my mouth, only belatedly realizing that I hadn’t chosen to shut my mouth. I hadn’t noticed last time, but this time, I definitely freaking noticed. It was damned frustrating.
“You’ll see in time,” she said. “But I can only help you if we do it my way.”
I nodded, reluctantly satisfied. Bemused, I watched her get to work. She measured me first, her motions so quick that the measuring tape almost flew through the air, whipping around me.
All the while, she muttered to herself. Then she cut the fabric, the whole process taking less than a minute. I’d never seen anyone move quite so fast. The whole time, the rats and birds helped her.
The last step was to sew the jacket, which she did, her hands flying so quickly I could hardly see them. There were a few parts still held together with pins when she turned, grinning, and held it out. “Try it on.”
I shrugged out of my old jacket and tossed it to Lachlan, then took the new one and put it on. Immediately, I felt stronger. Braver, too. I could go shut down that necromancer right now.