Better 'Ink Twice

by Rachel Rawlings

  “Hey,” I hooked my thumbs in the belt loop of my jeans, drawing their eyes to my exposed midriff, “can I catch a lift?”

  “Where’s your coat? You’re going to freeze to death.” One of them asked while staring at my belly button as if it were going answer the question. See, harmless— horny but harmless.

  “I was headed back to Rhode Island from Georgia. Missed my connecting bus. My stuff’s probably in Delaware by now.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them a little before shoving them in my pockets. “I can’t get another bus until tomorrow afternoon. I don’t feel like hanging around here until then.”

  Another frat boy popped the trunk and pulled out an old army green jacket. “Here. You can borrow this.” He tossed the coat in my direction which I gratefully caught and slipped into while offering my thanks. “We’re headed to Mill Town to meet some friends. There’ll be beer and burgers.” He smiled, raking his hands through his sandy blond hair. “Maybe more.”

  There will definitely not be more, I thought to myself while gritting my teeth and replying that that sounded great.

  I hated trading on my looks. When it came to tattooing and warding, I made it a point not to. My work spoke for itself. But desperate times called for desperate measures. So, I played the damsel in distress and caught a ride out of the bus depot to some eclectic town and a place The Phoenix Emporium.

  The Phoenix.

  The irony was not lost on me. Nor was the firm hand the Goddess continued to use in my life. For once, it seemed I was already on the right path, taking the heavy hints she dropped rather than fight them. The Goddess and I got along far better when I actually listened. I planned on doing that more often.

  I was a stranger in a strange land. On the run and on my own. Winslow had Nicholas, his grimoire, the unbinding spell he was working on, and a stack of letters that explained why he needed a spell like that in the first place. Winslow raced toward the end of his plan to take over the Magistrate and I barely left the starting line.

  Working with the Goddess only improved my odds of success and at this point, I needed all the help I could get.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Goddess was not without a sense of humor. She provided an opportunity. It just so happened that opportunity was in the form of a rusty rectangle on wheels that smelled like old, greasy, fast food and gym socks and was inhabited by three sports nuts who debated the greatest center in basketball for the entire trip.

  Five more minutes of that and I would have taken my chances with Winslow and the Magistrate.

  An old train bridge came into view, bright red with gold letters outlined in black announcing our arrival into the old mill town. The car slowed, making a left onto a side street before pulling into a parking spot in front of an old two-story building with a wrought iron-rimmed balcony that seemed as worthy of a place on Bourbon Street as it did its corner of Maryland Avenue.

  A weather-worn, wooden sign hung on the side of the building Phoenix Emporium, fine food and spirits. Inside, an old wooden bar ran the length of the first floor. Tables filled the center of the room. On its surface, it appeared to be just like any bar in any other town. Based on the energy of the space and the people who filled it, I knew it was anything but.

  It was magic.

  Magic isn’t always cauldrons, herbs, and crystals— or, in my case, inks. It’s all around us but so few know how to harness it. Ley lines were laid out by our ancestors, a way to follow the Earth’s magical resources and restore our reserves. Monuments were laid out around the globe, landmarks for places witches could commiserate and perform common ceremonies. A whopper of a ley line ran beneath the Phoenix. It was no wonder so many people packed themselves into a place where servers donned shirts that said Warm Beer, Lousy Food, Bad Service since 1979.

  Mundanes were as drawn to magic as witches. They just didn’t know why.

  I saddled up to the bar and ordered an iced water. Mark, who it turns out was not only the barkeep but the owner, noted I was a new face and asked how I found my way into the old mill town. Halfway through our conversation, a cold cider and plate of piping hot ‘Old Bay’ fries hit the counter in front of me.

  “On the house,” Mark said before attending to a local at the opposite end of the bar. I nursed my cider and savored the fries as if they were my last meal— because it very well could have been— while people watching and listening to mundane chatter until the mention of a tattoo studio piqued my interest.

  Mill Town Tattoo.

  Once again, the Goddess pulled the strings. I pulled a pen out of my bag and left Mark a thank you note on one of the unused napkins beside my plate before heading out to see about a job at the local tattoo studio. The old wooden door, swollen from humidity and the building’s proximity to the river running through the town, needed a good shove before it would open. I leaned in with my shoulder and gave it a good nudge followed by a hip bump after which it deposited me in a stumbling heap in the middle of their waiting room.

  Not the best way to make a first impression when inquiring about a job involving sharp needles.

  “The door sticks,” a voice drifted over the familiar hum of a tattoo machine setting my nerves at ease. “A little short-handed today, so grab a seat and I’ll be with you in as soon as I can.”

  A sense of home and belonging I hadn’t felt in months welled within me. I’d missed this— a shop, tattooing, even the smell of green soap. There was a small pang in my heart at the overall layout of the shop which was surprisingly similar to Something To ‘Ink About.

  “I’m not in a hurry. Take your time.” I grabbed a recent issue of a popular tattoo magazine and flipped through the glossy pages featuring wild pop-culture tats, traditional Japanese styles, and the occasional tribal while grunge music blared from a blue-tooth speaker on the counter across the room. A belly full of fries and a hard cider later, surrounded by the comfort of familiar smells and sounds, I was more at ease than I’d been since Nicholas walked through my door.

  Maybe too at ease.

  “Hey.” Someone tapped me on the knee. “Sleeping beauty, wake up.”

  Way to go, Adeline. You’re really checking items off the list of ways to not impress a prospective employer. I stifled a yawn and sat up. “Sorry about that. I was over at the Phoenix when I heard about your place—”

  “Old Bay Fries?” The tattooist asked, sticking out his hand. “Gets me every time. Carb coma. Name’s James. You looking to make an appointment?”

  I took his hand, giving a firm handshake in return. “A job, actually.”

  James took a moment to size me up, eyes roaming as he took in the tattoos not hidden beneath layers of clothes. “You got a portfolio?”

  Yeah, in a pile of ashes along with everything else I owned. “Not on me.” I dug my phone out of my backpack and pulled up the gallery, swiping the screen until a few pictures of recent pieces came up. “Here’s some of my most recent work. I was supposed to be passing through but I was thinking I’d stick around for a while.”

  “This town has a way of doing that to people.” James gave little wink and went back to admiring my work. “You’re pretty good. You’re not on Instagram?” he asked, surprise in his voice. “I haven’t seen your work before and I follow just about everybody in the industry.”

  Most people haven’t. Warders don’t advertise on social media. “The shop I worked for didn’t do much on social media. We had enough business with word of mouth.”

  “Good tattoos speak for themselves. Then again, so do bad ones.” He handed me my phone before walking over to the counter and opened his laptop. “I’ve only got the two chairs but you’re in luck. My partner and I split ways a couple weeks ago.”

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around lately.” I stood up, running my hands down my clothes to smooth out the wrinkles from my impromptu nap.

  “I’ve got a couple guest spots lined up next month but I could use a hand until then.” James pulled some papers off the printer a
nd handed them over to me. “Fill these out and we’ll make it official.”

  The employment forms were filled with simple questions that had complicated answers. How did a witch on the run start over when she couldn’t even use her name? Magic, of course. I took the papers from James and headed over to the couch, grabbing a magazine for a makeshift writing surface. From the depths of my backpack, I pulled a small inkpot and a broken pencil and set about crafting a spell that shifted the burden of creating a new identity from me to my new employer.

  James and anyone else snooping in his staff files would only see what James saw the moment he looked at the papers— the first name that popped into his head. After I drew the last of the sigils, I fanned the paper to dry the ink, dropped my supplies back in my bag and walked the form back to James.

  “Colby Jackson, huh? Well, welcome to Mill Town Tattoos.” James set the application on the counter beside his laptop and stuck his hand out for another handshake. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

  I managed to wait until his back was turned to roll my eyes. Colby Jackson? Leave it to me to cast this spell with a guy that probably worked through dinner and was dreaming of grilled cheese sandwiches. The grand tour consisted of the main room complete with waiting area, workstations, and checkout counter, one bathroom, and a small breakroom in the back of the building.

  James left me to set up my space after showing me around— which didn’t take long. My on-hand supply of inks consisted of zero mundane varieties. Something I’d have to remedy as soon as possible if I wanted to keep the job.

  “So, what time do want me here tomorrow?” I asked, halfway to the door.

  “First thing.” James grabbed a roll of paper towels and a bottle of spray sanitizer and got busy cleaning up for the night. “See you at noon.”

  “Noon is first thing?” I hitched my backpack up on my shoulder.

  “Around here it is.” James looked up from wiping the portable massage table used for back pieces and gave me a little wink. “See you tomorrow, Colby.”

  ***

  The two weeks that followed passed in a blink. James kept me busy with clients and I almost forgot about Adeline Severance and her problems with the Magistrate. In Mill Town, I wasn’t wanted for murder or my magic. I wasn’t looking over my shoulder or hiding out in secret attic apartments, too afraid to show my face in public. No, in the eclectic little town nestled between granite hillsides and curving rivers with street musicians and artists painting outside was the perfect respite from the continuous disaster my life became. For fourteen glorious days, Adeline Severance ceased to exist.

  On the fifteenth day? Well, you can’t outrun your troubles forever. They’re bound to catch up to you. Especially if you’re sitting still.

  Another customer walked in just as I finished the blue morpho butterfly piece on the inside of my client Selena’s wrist. I sprayed it twice with green soap and wiped away the excess blood and ink. The reveal was my favorite part. The forty-seven-year-old woman gasped with delight. She smiled ear to ear, marveling over every detail in the wings as I spread a fine layer of ointment over the entire surface of the tattoo and wrapped her forearm in cling wrap. She came in for a hug, thanking me repeatedly as she tucked a few twenties in my jeans pocket. I started cleaning my station, prepping for my next appointment as she went over to the counter to settle up with James.

  “Excuse me,” a man tapped me on the shoulder as I reached for my spray bottle of disinfectant, “I was wondering if I could ask you a question?”

  “You just did.” I turned with a smile that fell flat when I recognized the badge dangling from a chain around the stranger’s neck.

  Footman.

  “How long did you think you could hide from us, Adeline?” The overhead fluorescent lights gleamed off the tip of an athame hidden up the sleeve of his coat.

  “No need to read you your rights. You don’t have any. Murderous bitch.” He rushed forward in an attempt to grab me but I saw it coming and dodged left, knocking over my stainless-steel rolling tray in the process; splattering blue inks along the walls and floor.

  With his athame drawn and ready for more than just casting a circle, the footman had me backed against the wall. Armed with only a safety pin and the two marks that had seen me out of worse scenarios, I still felt pretty good about my odds of walking away. James shouted something and stepped out from behind the counter, but it was Selena who came to my rescue. Taser in hand, she took aim, fired at the footman, and zapped his ass good— literally. The electrodes made contact with his right cheek, coursing fifty thousand volts of electricity through his body until he dropped like a sack of potatoes on the floor.

  “Holy hell!” Selena doubled over, hands on her knees, and took in a deep breath. “Should I have done that? I probably shouldn’t have done that. Hells bells, I just tased a police officer.” She stood up and moved with purpose, collecting her belongings— starting with retrieving the electrodes attached to the footman’s ass. “I’m not cut out for prison. Orange may be the new black but it is definitely not my color.”

  James swooped in to calm her down and get a handle on the situation. “You didn’t tase anyone.” He reached for the taser which Selena reluctantly handed over. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “You’re a lot calmer than I would be if the roles were reversed.” I took two steps to the right, putting some distance between me and the Magistrate’s man. “I need a drink.”

  “That makes two of us.” James walked over to the front door and flipped the black and white plastic sign to closed.

  “A year ago, I’d have joined you but I’m celebrating my chip.” She reached into her front pocket and pulled out a medallion. “The tattoo was a gift to myself for being sober.” She palmed the coin, closing her fist around the token of her sobriety. “Listen, I’m in no position to judge anyone. I’ve got my demons. They’re lined up a mile behind me, but I can’t be here when his friends show up.” Selena jerked her head in the footman’s direction. “You got a back door out of this place?”

  James nodded. “Come on.” He led her toward the small backroom and a side door that led out to an alleyway built over the river that ended back on the main street. “You can get out—”

  The side door opened and Selena cried out. “Damn it all to hell and back again. Who the hell is this guy?” The door was closed with more force than necessary. There were sounds of a light scuffle and supplies hitting the floor and more protests from Selena. “Ouch, I’m going. I’m going.”

  James walked out in front holding his shirt against his mouth to stem the flow of blood from a busted lip. The cotton pressed against his mouth muffled his voice but I managed to make out something about background checks and skip traces. Mascara mixed with tears tracked their way down Selena’s face. The shitstorm my life became destroyed everything in its path. Everyone around me became collateral damage.

  “How long did you think you could hide out in here tattooing mundanes?” Lars stepped out from the backroom, an athame in his hand pointed at Selena’s back. I knew he wouldn’t stab her but she didn’t. “It’s no wonder they found you, Del.” He grabbed Selena’s wrist. She yelped in pain before throwing a futile punch in Lars’s stomach with her free hand. “I can smell the magic in it.”

  “It was nothing.” I waved off his protests. “A small enchantment.” The moment Selena sat down for her tattoo, I sensed something was wrong. Her aura was a troubling mix of colors. Now I knew. Her sobriety was hard-won and she was on the verge of cracking. I didn’t regret the strength enchantment woven into her butterfly tattoo. Not one bit.

  “She’s not the only one, though. Is she?” Lars’s temper threatened to spill over. His anger with me, over walking away from him in Providence, using magic on mundanes and risking my life further was just beneath the surface.

  “What in the absolute fuck is going on?” James stopped the bleeding on his lip and tossed his wadded up shirt on the vinyl tiles. “There’s a
cop unconscious on my floor. She’s wanted for murder?” James said the last like it was a dirty word— which I guess it was— while pointing at me. “And you’re talking about magic? This whole thing is insane. I’m sorry, Colby, but I’m calling the cops.”

  Lars mouthed “Colby?” before shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s some Forgive and Forget in your bag.”

  “I saw it.” I sighed and moved to grab out from underneath the counter in my station. “Not a full wipe. Just reset the clock for twenty-four hours?” I tossed the backpack on my stool and dug for the small bottle containing the erasure spell. “Oh, and James did her tattoo.” I wagged a finger between the two dumfounded mundanes.

  James lunged for the counter reaching for his cell but Lars blocked him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  The footman stirred, showing the first signs of consciousness. “Lars, heads up.” I tossed the bottle in his direction but spoke to James and Selena. “Listen, this is going to sound crazy. But stay with me for a minute okay?” I walked over the counter, keeping a calm, slow pace, and grabbed the taser. After fumbling with the device for a second, I reset it and fired another shot at the footman. Ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the electricity charging through his system, I didn’t skip a beat. “So, there’s this whole world out there that you don’t know about.”

  “Adeline,” Lars warned.

  “Look around, Lars. James is right. There’s a footman knocked out on the floor. We’ve got two mundane...” I struggled to find the right word but only came up with, “hostages. Besides, they’re not going to remember anyway.”

  “Fine.” Lars rolled his eyes and sighed. “make it quick.”

  “A teaspoon of sugar makes the medicine go down,” I said before diving into an explanation of how my world spilled over into theirs. When it came time to drink the Forgive and Forget, neither put up a fight.

  The same could not be said for Lars and me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I leaned over the wrought iron balcony wrapped around the exterior of the second floor of the Phoenix Emporium and watched James escort Selena out of Mill Town Tattoos. Both of them seemed happy and none the wiser after drinking the Forgive and Forget. James looked up, waving goodbye before unlocking his car. He yelled a causal goodbye, followed by something about seeing me tomorrow.