Page 8 of Tragic Ink
Chapter 3
Ethan had whinedall night and into the morning, and I knew my own tears probably had a lot to do with his distress. Rhys hadn’t tried calling, though he’d texted that I should call him about making arrangements when I was ready. I wasn’t sure whether to be glad or disappointed that he hadn’t tried to come by. I’d made my wishes clear with him, but still. He was the only person in the world who knew Aelwyn. And me. The real me. The temptation to let him comfort me was strong—until I remembered what that would cost me in the end. Better not to go down thatroad.
Unfortunately, that left me no one else. In fact, when it came to the rest of the world, I wanted to hide. But there was nowhere in the world that I could go where Aelwyn was still alive. Not to mention anywhere I wasn’t a murder suspect. But I was determined not to think about that until I absolutely had to. So, the next afternoon, when I’d tossed and turned and then showered until the hot water ran cold, I descended the stairs from my third-floor apartment to my second-floor shop, Tragic Ink, and opened forbusiness.
Twenty minutes later, I wished Ihadn’t.
The chime sounded, signaling the door opening, and I rounded the corner while schooling my features into something that didn’t resemble a grief-stricken zombie. When I saw who it was, my blood turned cold, and I stopped in my tracks. This was not what I’d had in mind when I’d intended to let work distract me from mygrief.
“Hello, Gwen.” A middle-aged woman waltzed in, her smile genuinely evil, calculating, and completely sure of herself as she rounded the counter with a thickly muscled man intow.
“What do you want, Ada?” I asked, my eyes narrowing in disgust and wariness. Ethan scratched at my arm, but my own will kept him from making any realnoise.
The man glanced up at me and then away again as he followed her around the corner and sat where she directed him. No question who was in chargehere.
“You know what I want,” she said so matter-of-factly, it was almost easy to miss the sharp edge to her tone.Almost.
But Ada wasn’t someone I could afford to underestimate. Ada was the leader of the Green Coven, a group of witches suspected of practicing black magic. The Court of the Sun and the Moon overlooked Ada’s methods for one reason only: because she would get her hands dirty when they wouldn’t. No real accusations had ever been made, but I suspected that was all part of the backdoor dealings she had going on already—if the Court banished her, the town would lose one of their best hitmen.
A quick-tempered witch with zero respect for the law, Ada Daryn was the worst of Havenwood Falls. So I didn’t miss the way she always sugar-coated things when she was trying to hide her temper. Or the way her mood could shift on adime.
A thousand times, I’d convinced myself to stand up to her. I’d even designed tattoos that might help me fight her off when she realized I wasn’t going to do her bidding. But Ada wasn’t someone to mess with. She was, however, in a position to mess with me. So in the end, I always gave in and did the work. I just hated myself for itlater.
Tonight, though, my emotions were so frayed already, I wasn’t sure I could deal with Ada and hershit.
“Tonight’s not a good night,” I said, willing to appeal to her compassion, if she hadany.
Her eyes narrowed and then gleamed at my words, and I knew then the termcompassiondidn’t exist in hervocabulary.
“Really?” She clucked her tongue. “That’s unfortunate. I guess I could come back later. That would give me plenty of time to activate all the magic you’ve already inked for me. And when the police get those calls of mayhem and chaos unleashed on their lovely town, the only explanation I could give would be to admit where I’d gotten the magic from. Of course, that would mean you aren’t available another night either. Not in this lifetimeanyway.”
“I’m not in the mood to be threatened, either,” I warned, her words only serving to piss me off further. Maybe tonight was the night I’d finally tell herno.
But Ada’s eyes sharpened, and she didn’t look nearly as nervous at my rejection as I thought she would. “I would have thought you’d be a little more interested in self-preservation than this. What with last night’sincident.”
I went still. “What does Aelwyn have to do with any ofthis?”
Ada blinked. “Aelwyn?” She waved a hand. “Nothing at all. The mountain lion at the Village Apartments is something I assumed you’d be concernedabout.”
“Why the hell would I be concerned about that?” I tried to think back, but I’d been so caught up in getting to Aelwyn’s last night. And then when I’d come home... I hadn’t exactly sat down and watched thenews.
“Because when it was done ransacking a first-floor apartment, it just vanished. Poof.” She snapped her fingers, and I flinched. “Just like that. Strange,right?”
I pressed my lips together and tried to resist the urge to lift my shirt and check my own skin for the mountain lion I wore. Ada stood, waiting smugly, and I knew I had to call her bluff. If she was right and my tattoo had come to life—again—I wasscrewed.
Heart pounding, I turned away from her and the man who had sat patiently through all this, and lifted my shirt a few inches. I peered down at the collage of ink on my skin, searching. When my eyes landed on the spot where the mountain lion had been, I went still. A tiny patch of blank skin stared back at me, surrounded by the other images still sitting dormant on me—carbon copies of the magical tattoos I’d given out toothers.
They all sat ready and waiting on my body until the magic was triggered. Then, they sprang to life just as the original was called to action by its wearer. The first time it had happened, I’d followed my own ink and arrived just in time to witness the chaos it caused. This time, I’d completely missed it. My grief had wiped me out last night, and when I’d finally passed out, apparently I’d slepthard.
Damn it. Ada was right. That mountain lion was myfault.
My gut twisted as I turned back to Ada. “Was anyonehurt?”
“No, the police were able to rescue the woman inside. Her ex-boyfriend was caught trying to flee the scene, however, and one eyewitness swears the boyfriend somehow conjured the mountain lion out of thin air. Quite a feat for a prairie dog shifter with no magic beyond his own shiftingability.”
“Was he arrested?” I asked, trying to ignore the brick forming in my stomach, because I knew exactly which customer she referredto.
I’d given him the mountain lion a year and a half ago because he’d cried in my shop about how lame it was being a prairie dog shifter. Just once, he’d wanted to experience what it would be like as a predator and not prey. The mountain lion was supposed to be just for him. For a night of fun alone in the woods. Not to terrorize his ex-girlfriend.
