by Jane Kindred
“That one uses a sort of combination watercolor/airbrush technique I’ve been experimenting with.”
“It’s really stunning. Not exactly the kind of thing I’d get, but I love the effect.” He glanced up. “How long have you been tattooing?” It was the question she’d been dreading. But it was only fair.
“Honestly, only about six months professionally. I practiced on friends for about a year first. And on myself.”
“On yourself? Any you can show me?” Brock brushed the carefully styled hair across his forehead. “I mean...that’s not a rude question, is it? I didn’t mean to get personal.”
Rhea laughed. “Well, I did volunteer the information that I’ve tattooed myself, so I kind of stepped right into that, didn’t I? I don’t really have any I can show you without a wardrobe malfunction—oh. Wait, I do have one.” She put her foot up on the edge of the couch and rolled up the left leg of her pants before pushing the thick woolen sock out of the way. “I did this a few days ago. I have some more fine detail work to do on it, but it’s mostly done.”
“Wow.” Brock leaned in to get a better look at the Black Moon Lilith. “That’s an amazing color.”
“I know. I just love it. I found it at a convention recently. A custom blend. Hopefully, it stays true when it’s done healing.” She rolled down her pant leg and took her foot off the couch, feeling self-conscious. She didn’t usually show off her own ink to strangers.
“I’ve never seen that symbol before. Does it have any special meaning?”
Rhea hesitated. She hadn’t even shown her sisters this tattoo yet. She certainly wasn’t going to tell some guy who’d walked in off the street about the Lilith connection. She hadn’t even told Leo about that. Not that it was any of Leo’s business. But she knew more about his business than—
Rhea realized Brock was staring at her curiously while she waged her internal debate. “It has some personal meaning.”
Brock smiled. “Those are the best, huh? I’ve been thinking about getting a quote from one of my favorite books. I should probably think it through carefully, though, if it’s going to be words. That’s what everyone tells me.”
“Good advice. Never tattoo someone else’s name on your skin is better advice.” Rhea grinned. “So this will be your first tattoo?”
Brock nodded, thumbing through the book. “I’ve been thinking about getting one for years but never had the guts to go through with it. But when I saw your flyer, it seemed like the time was right.”
“While you’re thinking it over, I can put you down for an appointment for when the shop opens after the first. You can always cancel—with twenty-four-hours’ notice, of course—if you change your mind or haven’t decided on the right tattoo by then.”
Brock smiled, but the smile drooped as he considered. “After the first. I’m going to be traveling for a while on business. There’s no way you could do it before? I promise not to tell anyone I got it early.”
There wasn’t much else she needed to do before opening, and turning down her first client didn’t seem like a good start. “Well...I guess I could. If I have the color you want in stock.”
“Oh, it’s going to be all black, whatever I decide on.”
“Then I’ve got your color.” Rhea smiled. “Okay, let’s put you on the calendar.” She grabbed the tablet from the counter and pulled up the booking app. “Just so you know, I charge one fifty an hour with a one-hour minimum.” He nodded when she looked up. “How’s next Friday at one o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
“I can call or send you a reminder the day before if you want to enter your name and contact information in the app.”
Brock typed in the information and handed the tablet back.
Her new client glanced at his watch and rose as the kettle beeped. “Guess I’m going to miss out on that cocoa. I need to get going. But it was great meeting you, Rhea, and I’m really looking forward to next Friday.”
After he’d left, Rhea turned on some music and indulged in a little victory dance. She paused to text Phoebe—after shaking off the millisecond’s impulse to hit Theia’s number first—to tell her she’d bagged her first client, leading to a squee of congratulations and a follow-up phone call moments later.
“That’s awesome, sweetie!” Phoebe was always Rhea’s biggest cheerleader, but something in her voice said this wasn’t the reason for her call.
Rhea sighed. “Okay, what is it?”
“What’s what?”
“What is it you’re waiting a polite three minutes into this congratulatory call to tell me that has nothing to do with my first official client?”
“I keep forgetting you’re psychic.”
“Ha. And yet you haven’t let me tattoo you or let me anywhere near your existing tattoos since the one I gave you to help find Rafe when Carter was trying to drain him of his blood.”
“Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Theia. I’d almost stopped having nightmares about it.”
Rhea felt her teeth grinding together. “You just called me Theia.”
“Oh, shitballs. I’m sorry. It’s just—Theia says you’ve blocked her number, and she called to tell me she had a dream about you and asked me to pass it on.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“She’s worried about you, Rhe. And you know her dreams are always significant.”
“And always vague enough to read like a horoscope everyone thinks makes perfect sense after the fact.”
“Why are you so pissed at Theia?”
“Just tell me the dream.”
“She said someone came to your door to take something from you, and you let them in. She says to tell you to be careful reading the ink of a stranger because you may read what you want to and miss the—” Phoebe paused as if reading from something herself. “And miss the meaning of the words beneath the skin. And she dreamed about a black wolf. She couldn’t figure out if it meant you harm.”
Goddammit. It figured Theia’s dreams about her would be right on the nose.
“Rhe? You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Thanks for the message.”
“Is that a thanks for Theia or for me?”
Rhea made an exasperated noise. “Whomever you want it to be for.”
“So other than your awesome news, how are you doing? Any more visits from the ghost riders?”
“Nope. Not a one.” She didn’t feel like telling Phoebe she’d had another conversation with a talking fox. Or about being stalked by a wolf. Elkhound. Whatever. It would only wind up getting back to Theia.
“Huh.” Phoebe didn’t sound convinced. “Why would they show themselves to you for no reason and then stop?”
“How would I know?”
“Do you think it has something to do with snake boy?”
Rhea growled. “He’s not a snake boy, and, again, how would I know?”
“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”
“Phoebe—”
“I’m just saying, you had this hot vision, and your visions are never wrong, so—”
“I’ve also had visions from creepers fantasizing about me. Those didn’t come true. They were just nasty little ‘wishes’ I made damn sure weren’t going to be fulfilled.”
“But you were in control in the vision with Leo. You experienced it physically.”
“Maybe it was my wishful thinking. Anyway, I need to get going.”
“You still haven’t RSVP’d for Christmas Eve. You’re coming, aren’t you?” Phoebe tried to sound stern.
“I’ll think about it.”
Rhea turned the volume back up on the music after the call and broke into dance once more, rocking out to Lady Gaga and Beyoncé. As she spun about with a particularly vigorous hair whip, she careened unexpectedly into Leo’s arms.
He looked as surprised as she felt.
“Holy shit, Leo.” Rhea steadied herself and backed out of his grip, trying not to blush. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. How long have you been standing there?”
“I just walked in. I said hello, but I guess you couldn’t hear me over the music.” He was kind of shouting over it even now.
Rhea hurried to turn it down. “Sorry, I was celebrating. I booked my first client.”
Leo smiled. “That’s terrific. Sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Where were you, anyway? When I found the place empty, I thought maybe you’d quit.”
He glanced down at his boots, rocking back on them slightly, with his hands in his pockets. “I kind of did. Or I was going to.” He looked up and met Rhea’s eyes. “And then I realized I hadn’t worked off my tattoo yet.”
“I see.” Rhea leaned back against the counter. “Well, if you’re uncomfortable here, I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay. You can pay me back when you have the money.”
Leo blinked at her, the same blue eyes as that damn dog’s. “Are...are you firing me?”
Rhea’s temper flared—the way it did when she realized she was the one being an asshole. “I’m confused. Do you want to work here or do you not want to work here?”
“Okay, I guess I should go.” Leo drew his hands out of his pockets—gloveless and pink from the cold—and turned to leave.
Rhea glared at the ground for a second, like the ground was the one being the asshole, before reaching out and grabbing for his hand. “Leo, wait. I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk.”
Her fingers brushed the Thor’s Hammer tattoo at his wrist as he turned back toward her, and the vision hit her before she could pull away. The thundering hoofbeats of the Hunt, the Viking she’d seen in her first vision in her living room leading the charge, blue eyes bright with excitement. The hair was longer and wilder and the beard fuller, and the thick fur garments and leather armor made him seem bulkier, but it was unmistakably Leo. He raised his sword and gave a hair-raising cry.
Leo was the one to break the connection, pulling Rhea’s hand from his wrist and grabbing her arms to give her a sharp shake. “All right, what the hell was that?”
Rhea stared up at him. “That was you, Leo. I don’t know how, but it seems you’re the Chieftain of the Hunt.”
He dropped her arms and took a step back. “Sorry, what am I?”
“You lead the Wild Hunt. Or your hugr does. I think.”
“My conscious thought-self.”
“The other Leo said it was comparable to your soul.”
Leo pulled off his hat and messed up his hair. “My soul is riding around in the middle of the night...leading Odin’s Hunt.”
“So you know about the Hunt.”
“Of course I know about it. I minored in Norse mythology.”
“You never mentioned that before.”
“No, because I—just remembered it.” Leo shook his head. “This is too much. Why would I be leading Odin’s Hunt? I’m starting to think you’re feeding me these visions.”
A prickle of outrage rippled through her skin. “You think I’m making this up?”
“No. No, I—” He sank onto the couch. “I am really confused.” Leo glanced up at her, suspicion still lingering in his gaze. “So how do you know about the Hunt?”
“I’ve been seeing it for a few nights now. Ever since you arrived in town. It doesn’t look quite like the vision. The horses and riders are more spectral, more contemporarily dressed. It only happens when you’re here, locked up.”
“And when were you going to tell me about this?”
“I wasn’t sure it had anything to do with you. I see weird things sometimes. I mean, never this weird, but it started with my own tattoo before I’d even met you.”
“What tattoo?”
She’d shown it to a stranger. She might as well show it to Leo.
Rhea rolled up her pant leg once more and propped her boot on the edge of the coffee table. “I did it the night before you came into the shop, and while I was finishing up, I had the first vision of the Hunt.”
Leo studied it. “Oh, the Black Moon Lilith.”
Rhea let the fabric of her pants drop back over it, removing her boot from the table. “You know the symbol?”
“Of course. From Theia.”
That familiar surge of anger was back. “Theia talked to you about Lilith?”
Leo gave her a peculiar look. “She has the same tattoo.”
It was all Rhea could do not to kick the table across the room. “Theia has a tattoo I don’t know about? A tattoo I didn’t do?”
Leo blanched. “I just assumed you had done it. It’s exactly the same except for the color. She just has the black outline inside her left forearm. I asked her what it was and she called it the Black Moon Lilith symbol.”
Visions having nothing to do with pictomancy or Wild Hunts were going through Rhea’s mind—visions of putting a pillow over Theia’s face and holding it down. “But she didn’t tell you anything else about Lilith?”
“Like what?”
“You didn’t ask her what the significance was?”
“No. It didn’t seem like any of my business, and she didn’t offer.”
Rhea walked back to the counter and fiddled with the tablet. “And did she offer any information about the tattoo I did do?”
“I didn’t see any other tattoos.”
Rhea laughed. “Come on. You didn’t notice the giant sunrise above her ass cheeks?”
Leo looked annoyed. “I never saw her ass cheeks.”
“I suppose she’s missionary only.”
He straightened his glasses. “If you must know, I didn’t see any parts of her that weren’t clothed.”
“Um, how did you have sex if you never saw her naked?”
“I never said I had sex with Theia. You just assumed.”
Rhea looked back down at the tablet to hide her surprise. Nighttime Leo had been telling the truth. “Well, that’s a first.” She glanced up and met his eyes. “You know, because she’s a super slut.” She grinned and fiddled with the accounting program for a minute before giving up with a sigh. Rhea took the tablet off the stand and came around the counter to bring it over to him. “I added a column and I think I broke the spreadsheet again. Would you mind fixing it? If you’re here to work, that is.”
“Absolutely. If you’re not firing me, I’m not quitting.” His thumb hit the home button as he took the tablet, and he ended up in the booking app. Leo paused, reading the entry, and his eyes darted up to meet Rhea’s. “What is Brock Dressler’s name doing in here?”
“That’s my new client.”
Leo stared at her. “That’s the Nazi I punched.”
Chapter 12
There was no way to be sure Brock Dressler hadn’t come to the shop by coincidence. But Leo wasn’t buying it.
“He must have followed me back. Or he saw me later putting up the flyers.”
Rhea had the urge to rub her arms, like bugs were crawling on them. “He seemed so normal.”
“They always seem normal. Because they believe they are. It’s everyone else who’s brainwashed. Everyone else who’s attacking them for their beliefs. They’re the most persecuted sons of bitches in the world.” Leo looked down at the scabs on his knuckles. He should have gone in for a second punch.
“It sounds like you have a lot of experience with them.”
Leo’s head shot up. He searched Rhea’s face, trying to determine if there was more behind the statement than the words on the surface. “Maybe I do. I don’t remember.”
Rhea sat on the arm of the couch. “It seems like all this Nazi stuff must have something to do with you.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to prote
st. “I’m not saying you’re part of it. But that it’s, I don’t know, following you.”
Leo slumped forward with his head in his hands. It did seem to follow him, and he didn’t know why. Dressler had made a beeline for him at the conference, and then there he’d been on the street while Leo was going for lunch. Not to mention the graffiti and the posters. And now Dressler showing up wanting a tattoo? What the hell was the connection? He wanted to grab hold of his brain and shake it until he remembered. And the horrible fear was that he’d find he somehow did have something to do with these bastards. That he wasn’t who he thought he was. That maybe he wasn’t a good person at all.
Rhea’s hand settled gently on his shoulder. “We could do another reading. Maybe read one of the earlier tattoos. Go further back and find out how you got it.”
Leo lifted his head.
“Unless there’s a reason you don’t want me seeing that, which is totally your call.”
“What reason would I have for not wanting you to see how I got the earlier tattoos?” Even as he said it, he realized he’d told her yesterday he didn’t.
“I don’t know, Leo. You tell me.”
The fear of being exposed gripped him again. And he didn’t even know what he was afraid of having exposed. That he was crazy, maybe, and this would give her the proof. Or that he really was associated with scum like Dressler.
“What I’d like to know more about is this Hunt thing,” he said finally. “If my soul is actually leaving my body to hunt something—”
“Somebody.”
“What?”
“Hunt somebody. Last night, I watched them chase down some guy and snatch him off his horse and take him...”
“Take him where?”
“They rode off into the sky.”
Leo laughed, but she was serious. He was starting to wonder which one of them was the crazy one. “Okay. Well, then, I’d like to know who I’m hunting and why.”
“You want the reading, then.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I want the reading.” He pushed up his sleeve and held out his arm, hand in a tight fist. “Let’s do Mjölnir.”
He screwed his eyes shut and held his breath as Rhea placed her hand on the tattoo, repeating “not a Nazi” in his head like Harry Potter begging the Sorting Hat not to put him in Slytherin. So he’d seen Harry Potter, he realized. Or maybe read it. That was something.
