Nicholas didn’t take the bait, choosing to ignore Lars’s jabs at his character. “I want that.” He pointed to the alchemist symbol tattooed on my forearm.
“This? You can’t be serious.” I pointed to the design, a combination of shapes that looked like I was a fan of geometry but went so much deeper than the universal language of mathematics. “We’re not having matching tattoos, Nicholas. I’m not sure we’re at that stage of our relationship. Or that we ever will be.”
“But you admit it is a relationship.” Nicholas smirked, waving his comment off before the vein pulsing in Lars’s temple had a chance to explode. “Come on, it’s the symbol for alchemy. Not a trademarked brand. You don’t hold exclusive rights to it. Witches marked themselves with it as a form of identification for centuries. It was all the rage after the summer of 1693.”
“Oh, excuse me. Did I roll my eyes out loud?” Afraid I might say something I’d regret and risk our fragile partnership, I pinched the bridge of my nose and counted to ten. “I think I liked you better when you were tied up in the trunk.”
“You know what I did to Josh,” Nicholas said.
“That doesn’t make you a Warder, Nicholas.”
“Maybe, maybe not—”
“There’s no maybe about it.” Lars sounded more offended than I felt. “I’ve spent the last two decades with Warders and nothing about you fits the bill.”
Nicholas rushed to defend his reasoning. “Hold on, hear me out. A Warder, no, but definitely an alchemist. I changed Josh from a witch to a familiar. Not on purpose but I still changed what he was. I transformed his matter.”
Lars wore a perplexed expression, and I was sure mine looked similar. He shrugged and I found myself rolling my eyes again, this time with a heavy sigh.
“Fucking logic.” I settled myself onto my stool. “Where do you want it?” Feigning shock, I gasped. “Why am I not surprised.”
“I don’t have a lot of real estate left.” He lifted up his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, exposing his entire upper body and arms from shoulder to elbow.
“You’re like a human grimoire. Are these all your spells?” My hand seemingly moved on its own, fingers tracing the intricate patterns as I deciphered the spell work and the six pack abs hidden underneath.
“These are clean lines. Who did it?” Lars seemed as interested in the concept of tattooing your entire collective works on your body as I was. He moved in closer to examine the sigils.
“A kid down in New Orleans. Ghost Town Tattoos.” Nicholas pulled his shirt back down and held out his right arm, waiting for me to prep the area.
“Michael?” Lars asked. “He knows who you are? Del’s got a guest spot lined up there later this year. I don’t want any problems.”
Nicholas lifted his eyebrows. “Guest spot? You ward outside of the city?”
“No. I only ward within the city limits, where the ley lines are familiar and my magic is strongest.” I prepped his forearm, running a razor over the area to remove any fine hairs that might snag my needles. “If a witch wants a ward, they’ll have to come to me to get it. I will, on the other hand, travel for Mundanes. They tip better.”
Nicholas offered a genuine smile while fidgeting around on his seat until he found a position he deemed comfortable enough to endure the entire process of getting his first—and hopefully his last—tattoo at Something To ‘Ink About.
Lars seemed more interested in what, if anything, happened to poor, unsuspecting Michael at Ghost Town, a welcome distraction from his favorite topic—threatening Nicholas. “How did you convince him to do the work without asking too many questions?”
“I prepared a small, very diluted draught of Forgive and Forget. The dose I gave him is completely safe for a Mundane. He’ll remember doing a couple geometric tattoos on a math fanatic but no finer details.” Nicholas raised his free arm, positioning it behind his head while he waited for Lars to decide if his choice to erase the memories from Michael was an acceptable solution.
Call me a cynic but I doubted very much Nicholas gave a shit what Lars actually thought. He didn’t seem to care about anything other than staying alive. Not that I couldn’t appreciate the sentiment. We were in the same boat for the foreseeable future.
Lost to the comforting rhythm of the tattoo machine, I tuned out the pissing contest happening around me between Lars and Nicholas. The routine and bravado were familiar. Lars went into papa bear mode every time a guy showed the slightest interest in me, even when Grim was still alive. The old man never so much as uttered a threat to one of my dates. He’d laugh and say there was no need for threats when he had Lars lurking around.
Old memories opened up old wounds, and I found myself wishing Grim were still around. He’d know what to do. He’d know the way out.
If the plan failed, we were all dead.
The straight lines and geometrical shapes which made up the alchemist’s symbol required all of my concentration. Michael’s work was crisp and precise. I’d be damned if my lines would be anything else. With my distractive and destructive thoughts tucked neatly back in their mental boxes, I focused all of my attention back on the tattoo and let everything apart from the relaxing hum of my machine fall away.
Lars was all too ready to hand me the supplies I needed to clean and wrap the finished product. Apart from Ms. Brown, I’d never seen him so eager to be rid of someone.
“Should we take a picture of us or something to commemorate our matching tattoos?” Nicholas winked as he slid one arm and then the other into his button-down shirt.
“So you can post it to your Craft Chat account with the hashtag twinning? I’ll pass.” I busied myself with cleaning up my workspace as Lars moved to usher him out of the building.
Nicholas snapped his fingers, and my shoulders instinctively sagged because I knew where he was headed. “You know what? I was just giving you a hard time, but a picture might be a good idea.”
“I don’t do pictures.” I threw a wad of balled-up paper towels in the trash can.
“Ever?” Nicholas sounded genuinely surprised. “I could show it to my uncle, prove to him I’m getting close, working you from the inside.”
As a candidate studying on campus, he no doubt had a wide social circle and belonged to several clubs. Commemorative photo ops were probably the norm for him. For someone like me, in my after-hours line of work, pictures were a no-no. Pictures could ID you, could put you in a specific time or place, and I did my best to stay off the grid and off the Magistrate’s radar.
Clearly, my best wasn’t good enough or Nicholas and I wouldn’t be twinning with our tattoos.
“It’s overkill. Waltz in your uncle’s office with a picture of me, and you might land yourself right in that lead box you’re trying so hard to stay out of.” I tapped my right temple. “He didn’t get where he is within the Magistrate’s circle because he’s a stupid man. You’re a candidate. Start thinking like one, or this whole scheme of yours is as dead as I am once they get a hold of me.”
“It was just an idea.” Nicholas looked at his watch. “Speaking of my uncle, I’m due to meet him in an hour. At least I’ll have something to report this time.” There was no misinterpreting the relief in his voice.
Some said being put in one of the Magistrate’s lead boxes was a fate worse than death. It was safe to say neither of us wanted to find out. Not that I’d be around to compare notes if they caught us since I’d be hanging from the end of a rope.
“Hang on there, slick.” Lars moved to his workstation and pulled a small box from one of the lower cabinets under the countertop that ran along the back wall. “You didn’t think we were just going to take your word, did you?”
“I had hoped we were past all this, yeah.” Nicholas gave a casual shrug, but he eyed the box Lars carried with genuine suspicion. “What’s in the box?”
“Two-way com unit with GPS and a few other modifications I put in, like not being able to track our signal.” Lars pointed from him to me, indicating
whose signal he was referring to. His serious expression shifted to sheepish when he caught my glare. “I picked them up after this guy tripped our wards the first time at the bowling alley.” He looked at Nicholas. “Yeah, I know it was you. I knew it the second you walked in here with your fake-ass business card.” He turned his attention back to me. “I was going to talk to you about it when you got back from Savannah, but then there was Karen Brown and....”
I brushed the rest of his explanation away with a wave of my hand. “Looks like we’ve got a use for your spy gear now.”
Chapter Eleven
TWO AND A HALF HOURS later, Nicholas continued to wait in the hall outside his uncle’s office while I developed a healthy respect for anyone assigned to a stakeout.
Lars’s com unit was a magical marvel. A small transmitter, undetectable to the naked eye once it was placed on the skin behind the ear, let us hear everything happening from the street just off campus grounds. If Nicholas’s uncle got suspicious, Lars and I could make a quick getaway. I wasn’t a huge fan of the idea of leaving Nicholas behind to face the Magistrate alone for a plan we’d concocted together, but I was outvoted.
On the upside, Lars and Nicholas finally agreed on something.
Another hour ticked by. My eyelids grew heavier by the second until the sound of dress shoes clacking against a tile floor came through the receiver and jolted me awake. Lars and I stared at the black speaker like it held all the answers in the universe and was about to reveal its secrets.
All it gave us was disappointment. Someone must have walked past Nicholas’s seat in the hall. The footsteps faded, and we were back to waiting.
My ass went numb around the same time the lack of circulation in my legs felt more like an army of fire ants dancing along my calves. I needed to get out of the car, stretch my legs, and maybe massage my ass a little. The chances of that happening were slim to none. With my luck, the Magistrate had posters of me plastered all over campus, and I’d be spotted by campus security within seconds.
At the onset of Operation Eavesdrop, I had been given an express order not to get out of the car for any reason. The coffee and snacks had long since run out, and I was in desperate need of a bathroom. Lars warned me about pacing myself and didn’t hesitate to remind me that I never listened once I started squirming.
I didn’t hesitate to remind him he could be a real prick, or of the fact that there were plenty of places for this little reconnaissance mission that offered both food and toilets. I was about to break the first rule of stakeouts and risk dropping our protective wards in search of a bathroom when a voice squawked through the speaker. I forgot all about my bladder.
“Your uncle will see you now.” From the sound of the voice, I knew it was an older woman. I made the assumption she was the uncle’s executive assistant after the sound of her heels clacking against the tile faded behind the sounds of a door opening and closing.
“Was this what it was like when you were a kid, listening to your favorite stories on the radio?” A small spread across my face when I caught Lars scowling.
“I’m not that old,” he grumbled.
At seventy-five, Lars was, in fact, old by a Mundane’s standards. For a witch, he wasn’t even middle-aged.
Twenty-six put me somewhere around grade school. The fact I held so much power at such a young age for a witch had always concerned Grim. He’d feared I would catch the Magistrate’s eye eventually. Guess he was right.
“It’s impossible to tell what’s going on with just sound.” No visual left too much to the imagination, and I had a vivid imagination.
“It would be easier if you’d be quiet.” Lars turned up the volume on the receiver.
“Uncle.” Nicholas’s voice was crisp and clear as it came through the speaker. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Someone else is there?” My heart picked up speed as panic threatened to take hold. Our plan was unraveling before it even got started.
“Shush.” Lars stayed focused on the receiver.
“I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced. This is Footman Aldridge.” There was a pause, a muffled sound of flesh pressing against flesh that I could only assume was a handshake, followed by the expected exchange of pleasantries between Nicholas and Aldridge.
Another irritating pause.
“Don’t worry, he has the necessary clearance to be present during your progress report,” Nicholas’s uncle said. “Assuming you do have something to report?”
Even through surveillance equipment, the uncle’s disdain was evident. You didn’t need to be in the room to know how much he disliked his nephew. Nicholas had been honest about that much.
“Aldridge. Aldridge. Why does that sound so familiar?” I rolled the name around in my head.
“Because he collects our tithes.” Concern creased the corners of Lars’s eyes. “Now, unless you want to rely on the turncoat’s account of what happened, be quiet so I can hear what they’re saying.”
“But what’s Aldridge doing there?” I asked.
Lars leveled me with a look that had me zipping my lips and sitting back in my seat.
“I know you’re frustrated Uncle Harold but I’ve made some real progress in gaining her trust. She doesn’t suspect—”
“I’ve collected tithes from that freak and the ogre working with her long enough to know one of them suspects something,” Aldridge said. “They may be an affront to the Magistrate but they’re not stupid. Otherwise they’d be in custody already.”
“Would she have given me a tattoo if she had suspicions about me?”
The scratch of plastic wheels rolling against tile flooring was almost indecipherable through the com unit, but the sound of people stirring, shuffling about the room, and Nicholas’s protest gave it context.
“Uncle Harold, what are you doing?” Nicholas asked.
“The alchemist’s mark? Do you know what could happen if word got out that a member of my family, my only nephew, wore the sign of a Warder? Freely on his arm where anyone could see it?” The sound of a slap interrupted Uncle Harold’s tirade.
It wasn’t difficult to figure out who had been on the receiving end.
“Not only do I use the clout of the Winslow name to save you from the box after my sister pleaded for your life, but I risk my position within the council offering assurances you can handle the task you were assigned in exchange for the generosity of your freedom.” Harold stopped to catch his breath, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper. “And this is how you chose to repay me? Letting that mongrel defile your flesh with her sign? I should have expected nothing less from a Marks. I had hoped your father’s death would be an end to his influence, but there’s no hope for it. It’s genetics.”
Winslow followed his verbal attack on Nicholas with another physical one, landing at least three more blows that we could hear.
“She’s mocking us.” Aldridge decided to chime in. “Perhaps your nephew didn’t understand the marking until it was too late. Having been banned at the turn of the century, it is possible he didn’t realize what she was doing by choosing the alchemist’s mark.”
“Sending us a message? Letting us know she knows he’s working for us?” Harold Winslow paused, apparently mulling over Aldridge’s suggestion.
“Uncle Harold, you have to believe me. I had no idea.” Nicholas accepted the out he’d been given and chose to play stupid. I admit, his decision to lay the blame at my feet and add another reason for the Magistrate to come after me stung my pride a bit.
A thought occurred to me, and I mentally kicked myself in the ass for not having thought of it sooner. “Do you think this was all a setup? The alchemist mark, Nicholas, all of it? They could be in there using sign language or passing notes to communicate, and we’d never know.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but no. I don’t think he was trying to set you up. He didn’t have much of a choice.” Lars reached over and rested a hand on my knee, followed b
y a comforting squeeze. “It was that or cast more doubt.”
“I don’t think they have any doubts about me, Lars. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into giving him that tattoo. I knew better. It gave them the last bit of proof they needed.” I turned away from him, staring out the passenger side window at nothing and everything, the campus grounds blurring through tears I refused to let fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I should have turned Karen Brown away. I should have left when I had the chance.”
“I’m sorry we live in a world where you have to apologize for being what you are.” Lars’s words, the love and acceptance behind them, were enough to release the tears I’d been holding back in endless streams down my cheeks. “Turning someone away, especially someone like Karen Brown, isn’t what you do. It isn’t who you are.”
Nicholas’s insistence that his assignment wasn’t over and the ensuing debate with an unconvinced Winslow saved me from responding. Had I opened my mouth to speak, I feared heart-wrenching sobs, not words, would have been the only thing to come out.
After checking the glovebox for a tissue or at least a napkin and coming up empty, I used my sleeves to dry my eyes and cheeks. Had we taken my car instead of Lars’s, I would have found something to address the post-crying sniffles. Apart from the wrappers from my various snacks during the stakeout, the inside of his car was pristine.
We continued to listen to Nicholas being dressed down by Winslow for another twenty minutes before the Councilman finally agreed to give his nephew one last chance—for his mother’s sake. He reminded him once more of the consequences should he fail to provide the irrefutable proof they needed or, better still, to catch me in the act of warding.
Fat chance of that happening.
Adeline Severance was on vacation. Effective immediately. Any prospective customers would have to find a different Warder—if they could.
We listened as Nicholas thanked his uncle, said goodbye to Aldridge, and excused himself from the meeting.
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