by Gary Jonas
“Put me on speaker, Brett,” my father said.
I tapped a button on my phone. “Okay, Dad, you’re on speaker.”
“Mr. King, I appreciate you making time for my lazy, good-for-nothing son.”
“Your cash, your call, Mr. Masters.”
“Brett, did you bring the deck?”
“Yeah.”
“Show it to Mr. King.”
I pulled the Tarot deck from my pocket, and Solomon took it from me. He flipped through the cards.
“What happened to these?”
“They spent some time in the Gulf,” I said.
“Not the water damage. This is ancient blood.”
“Precisely,” my father said. “I want you to transfer the blood and images from the cards to my son’s arm.”
“That’s a lot of magic, and doesn’t require any artistic skill.”
“I want you to build a tattoo around the cards, and I want my son to be able to shake his arm to call on the cards to guide him.”
“That’s a new one on me,” Solomon said.
“Can you do it?”
“There are seventy-eight cards. You want them all in one spot?”
“I do.”
“That will take a lot of sessions.”
“I want you to do it in one session.”
Solomon shook his head. “Say what?”
“One session. The magic is simple. The blood debt is paid.”
“You have any idea how much pain that will cause?”
“I do.”
“Pain for me or you?” I asked. I knew magic could hurt.
He scratched his beard again. “The pain will be all yours, kid.”
“How much pain?”
“More than you’re going to want.”
“I don’t care what he wants,” my father said. “He should know how to ease the pain. He’s a full-blood wizard, and with family blood on the cards, he can handle it. Get it done.”
“Uh, I don’t know how to ease the pain, Dad.”
“Figure it out.”
Solomon frowned. “I’ll have to do a custom design around the images for each card as I transfer them. This should be done in seventy-eight sessions.”
“I think I paid you well enough to do it in one.”
“Oh, I can do it in one,” Solomon said. “But your son doesn’t know how to erase the pain. I just don’t think he can take it. No one could.”
“Don’t give me that. I’m paying a premium price, so do your job. When it’s finished, call me, and I’ll wire a tip of forty percent.”
My father hung up.
“Your old man must hate you, kid.”
“Any chance you know how to ease the pain?” I’d managed to heal simple scratches, so maybe I could stop the pain, too.
He shook his head. “My magic is in art and transference. With each card, as I do the transfer, you’ll feel the pain like knives carving the images into your flesh. Then I’ll have to tattoo a binding spell to each card as we go.”
“Can I call a friend to come erase the pain?”
“If I’m gonna transfer seventy-eight cards and do the binding spells, we’ll be here all day and all night. You’re definitely gonna want someone to ease the pain, but we’re gonna need to get started now. Get in the chair.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Solomon King was a dick.
As soon as I sat in the chair, he took a card from the Etteilla deck, palmed it, and pressed it against the inside of my forearm.
It felt like he set my fucking arm on fire.
It hurt so bad I couldn’t even scream. My breath caught in my throat and first I stiffened, but then I tried to yank my arm away.
His hand held me like a vice. “Man up,” he said, keeping pressure on my burning arm.
When he finally released me, I let loose with a string of cuss words that would have gained me lifetime admission to the Sailor Hall of Profanity.
I bolted from the chair, still cussing. I kicked a cabinet, but that just hurt my foot. I noted the pain in my foot, but it didn’t distract me much from my arm. I looked down and saw that the card’s image covered my forearm.
“One down, seventy-seven to go,” he said with a grin.
“Like hell.”
“I need to do some normal needle work to ground a spell into place that will allow you to access the cards in your arm.”
“The card is in my arm?”
“The blood from the card is in your arm. The image is there, too, though it’s a transfer. I’ll give it the horizontal flip when I do the web lines.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said, still cradling my arm. I was afraid to touch the image because it still burned like a son of a bitch.
“This next part won’t hurt as much,” he said. “Sit down.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He laughed. “I don’t care. You’re going to sit down so I can ink you up, or I’m going to kick your ass and strap you down so I can continue.”
I wasn’t a fighter. I didn’t like pain because it hurt. And I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to go home.
Solomon slowly rose from his seat and clenched a fist.
“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” I said. “I’m sitting down.”
“You might want to call your friend.”
“No shit.”
He took my arm with one hand, and started the tattoo gun with the other. The gun buzzed softly, and all was good until the needle stabbed my arm. I’ve had tattoos before. This was nothing like that. This felt like the gun was pushing magma into my skin. Again, I couldn’t speak and I stiffened up. He held me in place as he drew lines this way and that, curving around here and there.
I heard a weird high-pitched screeching noise, and soon realized it was coming from me. My throat let loose with a cry like a kid pulling the lip of a balloon to squeal in that unparalleled annoying fashion. But I couldn’t stop myself.
Solomon switched off the machine and set it on the counter.
“Fifteen minute break,” he said. “I need a cigarette, and you need to grow a pair. Wipe those little bitch tears from your eyes.”
I dabbed at my eyes with my left hand. I didn’t want to move my right arm because it hurt so much.
I fumbled for my phone, and called Sabrina. “Please pick up,” I whispered. “Please pick up.”
She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Sabrina, it’s Brett. I need you to come down to King Solomon’s Tattoos. Please hurry. This guy is trying to kill me.”
“I’m busy.”
“Get un-busy,” I said. “I need you.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“You get to see me crying in pain.”
She laughed. “That’s almost worth it.”
“Sabrina, please. This motherfucker is going to start torturing me again. You need to come down here and work your magic to keep the pain away.”
“What if I want to see you suffer?”
“I’m begging you,” I said.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll come ease your pain, but you owe me a favor to be named later.”
“Anything,” I said. “Just please get here fast. I can’t do this without you.”
“Maybe I should get three favors.”
“Fine. Just hurry.”
“Where is it?”
I gave her the address.
“That’s about twenty minutes from here.”
"What do you mean? It's only like a five minute drive!"
"I want to get a walk in today. And I need to grab a shower first."
“No you don’t!”
She laughed. “I’m just messing with you. I just need to put on my shoes. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Thank you.”
I tried to get up, but my knees wobbled, so I dropped back into the chair. I didn’t want to look at my arm. I felt certain it would be a bloody pulp right now. But I had to see. I slowly turned my gaze to the tattoo.
>
My skin was red and inflamed around the rectangular image. As I’d just been in a comic book store, the webs Solomon had drawn across the image of the card looked like the lines on Spider-Man’s costume.
Solomon entered the shop and wandered back to me. He stank like cigarette smoke.
“Ready for round two?” he asked.
“No.”
“Let’s get this show on the road anyway.” He grabbed another card, slapped it against my arm and started the torture all over again.
I thought I was going to pass out.
Once the card was transferred and the image flipped, he started in on me with the tattoo gun. By the time he finished the second card, my legs were noodles and I had to dab away more tears. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt. It was like having a root canal done without Novocaine.
Where the hell was Sabrina?
“Time for another break,” Solomon said. He went into the backroom and returned with a bottle of water. “Drink this.”
“I can’t move my right arm.”
He rolled his eyes and opened the bottle for me. “Drink up, girly boy.”
“You’re actually getting him to drink water instead of vodka? Impressive.” Sabrina stood in the doorway, and not a moment too soon.
“Solomon, Sabrina. Sabrina, Solomon.” I didn’t have the strength for elaborate introductions. “Now get me out of pain.”
“No can do, cousin.”
I blinked at her. Okay, actually I blinked back tears. “What?”
“I can block any future pain,” she said, “but I can’t stop the agony you’re already in. I’m not that strong.”
“Can you pull magic from me to make yourself stronger?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Add that to your list of things to learn as soon as possible.”
Sabrina tilted her head. “I wouldn’t mind being able to draw magic from other sources,” she said. “I’ll look into it.”
“Cool. Can you tell me how to stop the pain? Maybe I can learn it.”
“Focus on feeling normal.”
I focused on my arm, trying to remember what it was like to feel no pain. Go back to normal, I thought as I focused.
The webbing around the image of the card started to fade away.
“Stop that,” Solomon said. “Unless you want me to have to start over.”
I stopped. “Sorry.”
As long as the pain didn’t get worse, I could get through it. I didn’t have a choice. Sabrina kept up for a while. Then she had to have the occasional twenty minute breaks to recharge. Solomon didn’t bitch about it.
“Now that you’re not being such a crybaby, it’s worth the delay,” he said. “Silence is golden.”
And eventually, Solomon finished transferring the entire deck into my arm. He had worked straight through the night, and with all the breaks, it was midday. I should have been sleeping by now.
Solomon cleaned my skin, spread an anti-bacterial ointment on his work then bandaged me up.
“You’ll want to remove the bandage in around four hours,” he said. “Now, let me explain the way the cards work on your arm.”
“Can you do it in six words or less?” I asked.
Sabrina shook her head. “You’ll have to forgive him. He never learned proper English.”
“What do you mean?” Solomon asked.
“It should be six words or fewer,” she said.
“Lady, no one likes a grammar Nazi.” He turned to me. “Six words or less,” he said and shot another glare at Sabrina. “Ask for guidance, shake your arm.”
“What?”
“The blood debt is paid.”
“Yeah?”
“Means you can ask questions.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“The cards will answer.”
“How?”
“I can’t explain it in six words, man.”
“Fine. I’ll try to focus.”
“Basically, the magic is there. I connected the cards with the web lines. All the buzzing?”
“Got it.”
“I did like your old man said. Problem is, you’re limited by my magic.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Takes twenty-four hours to recharge.”
Sabrina cut in. “He’s saying he set the cards up so you can ask for guidance. Shake your arm and ask the question. Your tattoo will shift to one card, and that card will be the answer to your inquiry.”
Solomon nodded. “That’s what I said. Ask for guidance, shake your arm.”
“So now my arm’s a fucking Magic Eight-Ball? But it’s the bullshit Tarot answers, right? Not yes or no stuff. I’ll have to interpret the meaning.”
“Of course. That’s how it works.”
“But I can only do it once per day?”
“Once every twenty-four hours,” he said. He handed the deck of cards to me. “These aren’t tuned to you anymore. That blood is all inside you now.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“I think it’s cool.”
“I do too,” Sabrina said.
“You do this sort of thing often?” I asked.
Solomon shrugged. “From time to time.”
“Ever do sigils that can change like my cards?”
“Why, kid? You want another session?”
“God, no! My arm feels like it’s been run through a meat grinder and thrown on the barbeque.”
“Okay then.”
“Just curious how often you do this sort of thing for people?”
“None of your business, kid.” He glared at me.
“Didn’t mean to piss in your cereal.”
“All right, get out of my shop. I want to close up and go home.”
“I’d thank you,” I said, “but I still want to punch you in the face.”
He grinned. “You won’t be able to throw a punch with your right arm for a few days.”
“Sabrina will be able to heal it up once she recharges.”
She shook her head. “It will have to be tomorrow,” she said. “Right now, all I want to do is sleep.”
“Me too,” Solomon said.
“Me three,” I said.
“You always want to sleep,” Sabrina said.
“What’s your point?”
Solomon shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what her point is. You two need to get out of my shop now.”
Sabrina had to help me get up. “Are you going to be able to drive?”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think I can manage it.” I turned back to Solomon. “Anything special I need to do for the first week while this heals?”
“Don’t go swimming, keep it out of the sun.”
“Do I need lotion or anything?”
“Normally you would, but I took care of that with my magic. Just be aware that the colors may bleed into your sheets tonight, so you might want to put some old sheets on your bed. Other than that, you’re all set.”
“Cool.”
We stepped out into the sunlight, and I winced like Michael would have. Michael is a vampire, so sunlight messes with him.
Sabrina walked with me to my car. “Give me the deck,” she said.
“Huh?” I asked, thinking about dropping into my nice, comfortable bed.
“The cards. I can send them back to my father.”
“Why? He stole them to begin with.”
“You don’t need them. The magic is in your arm now.”
She had a point. I handed the deck to her. “Good riddance,” I said.
My phone rang. It was Lakesha. What could she possibly want just after noon on a Monday? And why in the holy-assed hell would she be calling me at that ungodly hour?
I almost let it go to voicemail because I had a bad reputation to maintain, but it was easier to answer if only to tell her I wouldn’t be in at one.
“We’re sorry,” I said, “but Brett Masters is currently unavailable for conversations. Please call back at a re
asonable hour.”
“Cut the shit,” Lakesha said. “This is important.”
“Right. What’s going on with your bad self?” I asked.
Sabrina rolled her eyes.
While I couldn’t see her, I was willing to bet Lakesha did the same.
“We have a problem, Brett.”
She didn’t call me Brat, so I knew it really was important. “Can you give it to me in six words or less?”
“Regina just killed a man.”
CHAPTER NINE
Sabrina and I entered Lakesha’s store twenty minutes later. Lakesha was ringing up a purchase for a customer. Herbs of some kind, not that I cared. Isis stood guard on the counter, glaring at me as Sabrina and I approached.
“Hi, Isis,” Sabrina said and scratched the cat under the chin.
Isis purred.
“Hey, cat,” I said and reached to scratch her chin as well, but she took a swipe at me with her claws. I jerked my hand back.
“Don’t tease the cat,” Lakesha said to me. She turned back to her customer. “Thanks, Norah. You have a blessed day.”
Norah, a middle-aged woman with tanned skin and almond-shaped eyes took her bag then rubbed Isis behind the ears. Isis leaned into the rubbing, purring up a storm. “See you soon, Isis,” Norah said. She gave me the stink-eye, and walked out.
“What did I do?” I asked nobody in particular.
“You exist,” Lakesha said. “That alone is a crime against humanity.”
“I love you too.”
Lakesha came around the counter and embraced Sabrina. “Good to see you, Bri. Did you have a good trip?”
“I did. Thanks.”
“You look like you haven’t slept in days, girl.”
“We were up all night getting Brett’s tattoo. I’ll work an alertness spell in a few minutes. Brett said someone died?”
“Did he fill you in?”
“No. We’re in separate cars.”
“Why don’t you go on home and get some rest. Brett and I can handle this.”
“And miss out on the excitement?”
“I don’t know how exciting it is, but we’ve got a drive ahead of us.”
“I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open,” I said. “I’m wiped out.”
Lakesha frowned at me. “Wait here.”
She moved through the bead curtain.
