Page 1 of Tragic Ink
Chapter 1
The buzzof the tattoo gun vibrated against my skin until the bone in my hand ached from holding it steady. This was my third tattoo of the night—and the longest by at least two hours. I hadn’t stopped to stretch, and now my neck and shoulders were paying for it. The way I hung over my work, hovering and squinting to get it just right, left me stiff and aching. It was a pain in the ass, really, the soreness that would inevitably follow tomorrow morning. But I loved it. The concentration required for the precision of the lines. Bringing an art piece to life on the canvas of someone’s skin. It was a thrill every time, even if this one was so large and time-consuming. We were on our third and final session, but at least the patient was compliant. Strangely silent, actually. But it was better than when theycomplained.
When I was finally finished with the bright blues of the seascape, and the aqua scales of the mermaid’s tail had been shaded in to the edge of the fine lines, I switched off the machine and set it aside. On the table before me, Sean stirred and sighed as if he’d just woken from a peacefulslumber.
“Is that a wrap, then?” His Irish accent was still thick despite the fact that he’d lived in Havenwood Falls for as long as I could remember. And I’d grown uphere.
I nodded my head. Only Sean could sleep through a full-color back piece. “That’s it,” Iconfirmed.
He sat up slowly, his large back and broad shoulders probably just as stiff as mine. If the numbness had worn off enough to let the pain set in, he didn’t show it as he swung easily to his feet from the table where he’d spent the last few hours facedown. His graying hair was disheveled, but then my short blond hair probably looked about the same. My own shirt clung to my back where the stuffiness in the room had left me coated in sweat. It wasn’t something I minded. Not when it was the result of giving someone a fresh piece. A shower did sound heavenly right about now,though.
Sean stood and stretched and then fell still again, waiting for what we both knew came next. Standing behind him, I slathered a thick layer of Vaseline over the mural I’d given him and then wrapped it in plastic. When I tried reminding him of the care instructions, he waved me off. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. This ain’t my first rodeo,girl.”
He was right. This was his fourteenth, if I was countingcorrectly.
I let it go and slid my gloves off while he shrugged into his button-down. He left the buttons open on the top half, revealing a hairy chest and the edges of the older ink that covered his shoulders and flowed down hisarms.
“You’re catching up to me,” I told him with a raisedbrow.
“Nah. None of mine are worth even half of those.” He nodded to the various tattoos flowing up and out of my black tank. My arms were covered down to my wrists, and my chest was inked up to the edges of my collarbone. The only tattoo that I hadn’t done myself was a small symbol on my left shoulder. Magical in its own way, but not like the rest. If the Court of the Sun and the Moon, our local leaders, only knew their mark wasn’t the only one on my body that held spells... Thankfully, they didn’t.Yet.
Sean studied the hawk on my forearm with sharp eyes. Something like fear jangled my gut at the way his attention caught on it. His words finally sank in, and Istiffened.
“What do you mean?” Iasked.
Sean blinked, but the gleam in his eye remained. And the certainty in his tone was unmistakable. “Come on. You know what I mean, Gwen. They say your tattoos are more than justink.”
Motherfucker.
Fourteen times this guy had been in my chair, and he’d never once let on he knew about me. About what I could do. If he had, I damn sure wouldn’t have inked him. Partly out of principle. Mostly, to avoid this exactconversation.
“Look, Sean,” I began. “I think you’re mistaken about whatit—”
“No mistake. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe.” He looked believable enough, and I had known Sean for a long time now, but even so, my gut roiled with fear and the guilt that always gnawed at the edges. “Honestly, I’ve just been hoping you’d pour a bit of that magic of yours into some of the ink you’ve put on me. I’d never tell a soul if youdid.”
And there itwas.
The request that only the really plugged-in residents of this town bothered to make. They wanted the magic. Too bad for them I wasn’t giving it out anymore. Not unless I was forced, but that was another issue altogether. And if the first thirteen pieces I’d done for him were any indication, Sean should have known thatalready.
I narrowed my eyes. Maybe he was sent here to test me. Maybe Ada was checking to be sure she was still my only customer when it came to the top-tier services Tragic Ink couldprovide.
“Look, you got what you paid for. That’s all I’m offering,” I said in a tone that left no room for argument—or morequestions.
He shrugged and backed off, heading for the door. “Sure, no problem. Next time,” hesaid.
The way the words hung there, even after he’d left and the door had clicked shut behind him, made it hard to tell what he meant. Did he mean he’d see me next time? Or that he’d expect the bonus package nexttime?
I made a mental note not to tattoo Sean, the Irish healer, everagain.
Then, shoving aside my anxiety, I straightened the studio and shut everything down for the night. I checked my phone, which had been set to silent while I worked, and read the five texts from Aelwyn, my foster mother. The first three were reminders about what time she was expecting me. The last two were warnings not to be late again. I texted her back to let her know I was on my way, hoping I wouldn’t have to hear a lecture about how tardiness was a form of disrespect—Aelwyn wasn’t strict, but on this she’d always been a dog with a bone—and hauled ass while I cleaned up. Hurrying as I shut off the lights and the neon “Open” sign, I locked up and took off into the frigid night for Aelwyn’shouse.
The few residents that were out walking on Main Street never even noticed me as I slipped out the front door of my second-floor tattoo shop and down the stairs, taking a hard right into the alley that ran between my shop’s building and the next. From there, I cut through the back alleyway that ran behind Eighth Street until I reached the narrow space where I parked mytruck.
Sliding in, I fired it up and slid my palms together to warm them while I waited for the engine to heat to something warmer than the frigid temperature outside. Winter in the mountains of Colorado was not exactly tropical. To ward off the chill, I let some of my human glamour slip. In the shadows of my truck, I felt my ears lengthen and come to a point at the top and the shape of my facenarrow.
My human glamour made me appear shorter than I was, so without it my head brushed the roof of the truck. My suddenly longer legs bent more sharply at the knees, too cramped for the seat, but I dealt with it just long enough to let the fae blood inside me heat my skin. Between that and the heating vents, it wasenough.
I waited until my hands and toes had warmed. Then, just as quickly as I’d let it fall away, I called my glamour back up, and by the time I blinked, I looked human again. Blonde, slender, and covered in ink, though that last part never changed, glamour or not. The tattooed star tingled a bit as the magic it was laced with settled back into place. I’d had it since I was a kid, a requirement for all the permanent supernatural residents of Havenwood Falls. It was also the symbol that housed my glamour and logged me with the Court of the Sun and the Moon so they could keep track of who was supposed to be here—and who wasn’t human. It also helped lessen my weakness to iron, which was a nice benefit considering the stuff was literally everywhere these days, and all fae were sensitive toit.
