by Holly Evans
The breaker stepped into the room.
“Keirn sent me to tell you that if you want lunch you’d better get your ass downstairs, otherwise he and Kyra will eat yours for you,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks,” I said.
He looked at the books. “Anything useful?”
“Not particularly,” I said.
He frowned.
“Why haven’t you approached your stalker yet?” he asked.
“I’d completely forgotten he was there. I have the council coming tomorrow and a tattoo thief to catch,” I said.
“Is your life always this… complicated?”
“Fortunately not,” I said.
“I’m not in work until Tuesday. I’ll deal with your stalker,” he said.
He’d strolled off down the hallway before I had a chance to respond. What did I even say to that? I locked the door to my preparation room, just in case he felt the need to poke around, and went down to see what I could salvage of my lunch.
Vyx had looked particularly pleased with herself. She had paint on her nose and in her hair, Kyra was sitting on her shoulder, and Keirn’s spirit fox was curled up in her lap. She’d certainly settled in quickly enough. She went back and forth about art things with Keirn while I ate my lunch quickly and tried to figure out my next step with the books and ink magic. I needed to deepen my connection with the network, but I had to be careful in doing so. If I didn’t take the right precautions, then I’d become nothing more than a conduit for the ink network. Weak and arrogant tattoo magicians died like that. They’d shown us pictures in college. Ink spilled out of their mouths and dripped from their fingertips. They were slowly consumed. I didn’t plan on dying like that.
“Any idea who your stalker is and what they want?” the breaker asked.
I frowned and broke myself away from my thoughts.
“None. Why?” I asked.
I hadn’t really thought about it. Kyra and Vyx said he wasn’t the tattoo thief, so I’d decided to deal with him later. It was probably as simple as a rival tattoo magician looking for some way to take out the competition.
“Most people are a little concerned when they discover they have a stalker,” the breaker said.
I shrugged and cleared away my plates. “I’m not most people.”
“So I’m seeing,” the breaker said with a smirk.
Kyra growled at him. Her tail lashed against Vyx, causing her to turn and look at us.
I left before anyone could ask more questions and returned to my reading. There was so much information that I hadn’t known. It was hard to take it all in and terrifying that I might get caught trying. The potential for my magic was bigger than I’d thought. Given ink, some of my blood, something to use the ink on, and enough energy, I could do anything I set my mind to. Of course, there were risks, the bigger the working the more likely I’d die trying, but the potential was overwhelming.
Outside of the methods we had been taught in college, bringing animals onto our plane and the use of sigils to alter the person or the world around them, I discovered a new strand of ink magic I hadn’t considered before. If I added a drop of blood to some pure ink, then with enough will I would be able to manipulate the ink and form something on our plane without a recipient as a conduit. That is to say, I could form a raven out of ink without first tattooing it or drawing it. My mind spun at the idea. With enough ink, blood, and energy, a talented ink magician could alter the world around them.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to sort through the myriad of options and images in my mind. An ink magician with enough talent and determination could, in theory, bring about an entire menagerie purely from ink. Or, given less pleasant intent, they could make substantial changes to the city. In theory, they would be able to pull through a segment of the ink network, which would give them a malleable bubble to work within. They’d effectively have their own playground where they controlled every small detail. If such a magician were to fall into the hands of the council or the ceremonial magicians, they would have insane amounts of power. It didn’t bear thinking about and only hardened my resolve to remain as far away from them as possible.
Isaiah snapped me out of my study and brought me back to the real world, the one where I had to work with the breaker to make sure the council didn’t ask any more awkward questions. He stood in the doorway with a grin on his face.
“I didn’t expect to see you two days in a row,” he said.
I pushed him against the wall on the far side of the hallway and kissed him softly at first, gradually deepening the kiss into something intense and passionate. A flutter of fear raced through my chest. I was growing fond of him, taking solace in his presence. He grazed his teeth over my bottom lip.
“I missed you, too,” he teased.
“Don’t get cocky,” I whispered in his ear, sending a shiver through him.
“You have a room, kindly use it,” Keirn said.
I turned to grin at him. He returned my grin.
“It’s about time you had a boyfriend, Dacian. Remember what I said earlier,” he said.
Isaiah gave me a confused look. I ran my thumb over his bottom and nibbled down his ear.
“He’d rather not hear your begging tonight, which is a shame, given what I have planned for you,” I whispered.
36
I had teased Isaiah mercilessly through dinner, small touches and carefully applied pressure under the table. He’d been practically begging right there. Even so, with him sprawled out over me, arm protectively stretched over my chest, I lay awake thinking about the ink magic and the council. What if the breaker fucked up and the council realised what was going on? I stroked the side of Isaiah’s face, smooth from the worry and concerns of his life. What would happen to him if I had to flee? He was gaining a little confidence, but he still flinched when anyone moved too quickly or pushed into his personal space.
I kissed his cheek and tried to return to sleep. It was going to be a long day. I’d need all the energy I could get.
The councilmen were due to arrive at six. The day had crawled by. The clients that had come in were hoping that they had something to tattoo, but were in fact just a little itchy. I sent them over to the life magicians to get themselves checked out. The breaker had left just after breakfast. He’d said something about my stalker. I was too busy planning how to get away if he fucked up, and what to do about Isaiah if I had to run.
I was mopping the parlour floor for the third time that day when the breaker returned with a large blood stain on his shirt and a split lip.
“Your stalker didn’t appreciate my methods,” he said with a smile.
I had to laugh. He looked quite a state, but he still wandered across the room as though he’d had a good afternoon with a pretty man.
“What happened?” Keirn demanded.
The breaker gave him that easy smile.
“I had a few words with Dacian’s stalker,” he said.
“It looks as though he spoke back with his fists,” Keirn said.
“You look much better,” the breaker said to Vyx.
She grinned and stood a little taller. Keirn had taken her out clothes shopping. She was in a pretty little pale green dress that brought out her eyes and flattered her very slender figure. The large black military boots were quite the contrast, but she was pleased with the entire thing, and that was what mattered.
“Stop changing the topic,” Keirn said as he walked over to the breaker.
Keirn took hold of the breaker’s chin and moved his face from side to side inspecting him.
“You’ll live,” he said.
“I’m so glad to hear that. I’d rather not have the shame of dying from a split lip,” the breaker said.
Vyx pushed the small green box with the healing kit into Keirn’s hands.
“He has to look presentable so he can watch over Dacian,” she said.
I snorted. He wasn’t looking after me.
“We’ll be close at hand,” K
eirn said to me once he’d tidied the breaker up.
I shrugged.
“It’s just a re-grading, no big deal,” I said.
Keirn raised his eyebrow at me, but said nothing.
“Ethan won’t let you down,” he said.
He and Vyx returned to his art room, leaving me with my thoughts and increasing panic while the breaker, Ethan, changed into a fresh shirt. It was a miracle that I’d been able to hide my magic in my first grading. That was down to exhaustion and luck in having a shit-tier grader who didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing. I wasn’t going to get that lucky again, not with the council.
I almost punched the breaker in the face when he put his hand on my arm, startling me out of my thoughts. I caught myself before my fist could make contact, but it still bothered me. I prided myself on my control. He gave me that easy smile and put his hands in his pockets.
“Relax, I’ll keep you safe,” he said.
I ground my teeth. I didn’t need to be kept safe.
“How exactly will this work?” I asked.
“I’ll be sitting on a chair reading a book while you’re graded. I won’t dampen your skills, I’ll reduce the bond between you and the grader so he can’t feel the full extent of your magic,” he said.
His eyes never left mine, the cocky little smirk remaining firmly planted on his lips, too.
“And he won’t feel this dampening?” I asked.
His smirk shifted into a full confident smile.
“I’m very good at what I do,” he said.
I held up my hands and returned to mopping. What choice did I have?
I’d just finished mopping the floor when the councilmen arrived in their slick dark suits and darker expressions. Fortunately, the blood magician wasn’t among their number. There was still the military magician, the tattoo magician who’d be doing the grading, and I couldn’t place what the other was. He had the brightly coloured eyes of an incubus, but there was a hardness to him that didn’t fit with his being pure.
Ethan had settled himself down in the comfortable old armchair in the far corner of the room. I ignored him and hoped that the others would do the same.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” I said.
They didn’t concern themselves with polite introductions this time. It was all business. The tattoo magician directed the incubus mix over to the closest tattoo chair and told him to strip down to his pants. The incubus mix’s mouth tightened and his eyes shifted from cerulean to violet, but he said nothing. The familiar buzzing, fizzing sensation of a tattoo waiting to come into the world filled my senses. My concerns slowly slipped away, and I fell into the comfortable routine of preparing a new tattoo. I didn’t really listen as the grader went over the grading system and process. He had an awful droning voice that was somehow grating and smooth at the same time.
I approached the incubus mix with my brushes and such; the grader stood at his side and held out the palm of his hand. I placed the brushes down and held out my own palm. The military magician sliced open my fingertip, and I smeared my blood in the palm of the grader’s hand. The bond clicked into place immediately. The grader’s face remained poker-smooth.
Everything rode on Ethan’s ability to do what he said he could without being caught. I took a deep breath, picked up my brush, and began work.
37
That tattoo sprang to life in my mind. It was unlike anything I’d ever dealt with before. The colours were wide and varied. They rivalled wild magic. It was so vivid, the soft feathers that ran along the serpent’s narrow body and stretched over its delicate wings were almost real under my fingertips. The snake formed half-curled over the incubus mix’s heart, its face, even in the paint, one of passive amusement. The grader made some sort of grunting noise that I took to mean permission to continue on and bring it through entirely.
The incubus mix glanced down at his chest and smiled, his fingers trailing over the paint in a caress as he murmured something in a language I didn’t understand. I gave him a moment while I prepared the tattoo gun and moved into the next phase. The snake was very docile. I could feel the intelligence as it watched me work. I took my time bringing each feather to life, adding in the small details and splashes of colour. It began to move and pressed its surprisingly warm head against my free hand. The feathers tickled my palm. Something in the back of my mind told me that the snake wasn’t as sweet as it would have me believe, but that wasn’t my problem.
The grader’s face had contorted into one of fury when I stepped back and put the tattoo gun down. The incubus mix, on the other hand, grinned and laughed, a delicate tinkling sound that was entirely at odds with his broad frame and very masculine face. I cleaned my gun and gave the grader a few minutes to compose himself while mentally planning out my route over the rooves to safety.
“It seems that you’re a tier two,” the grader spat.
I smiled.
“Well, now, that will improve my business some,” I said.
He threw a new certificate at me declaring I was a tier two and stalked out with the other two trailing behind him. I locked the door behind them and leaned back against the sturdy frame. Ethan had done it. I was in the clear. An almost physical weight lifted from me as I took it in. That was one hell of a near miss.
Ethan strolled up to me, that increasingly familiar smile on his face.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
I laughed out of relief rather than humour.
“Thanks,” I said.
Vyx came dancing out into the room, blue paint splattered across her cheeks.
“I finally got the image out of my head,” she said as she whirled around the room.
“Are you going to show me?” I asked.
I wasn’t an artist, the art was in the tattoos for me, but I tried to appreciate it for Keirn’s sake. Vyx stopped dead and tilted her head a little, her eyes slightly vacant.
“Yes. I think I will,” she finally said.
I patted Ethan on the arm as I passed him.
“I appreciate what you did,” I said.
Vyx brought the painting out to us. We weren’t allowed to step foot in Keirn’s art room. He was working. She showed us an intricate painting that was formed of something similar to Celtic knot work. A series of small and delicate patterns, all in various shades of blue, came together to form a flock of birds that careened across the canvas. She was even more talented than Keirn had said. I’d been expecting something rough and simple.
“That image has been imprinted on my brain for far too long; now I can move on to my other things.” She bounced on the balls of her feet.
“That is truly beautiful work,” Ethan said, his eyes glued to the painting.
Vyx’s grin spread even wider.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
No one was going to accuse her of having low self-esteem, or humility, any time soon.
“I’ll cook dinner, it’ll be done in an hour,” Ethan said.
“Thanks, I’ll return to my study then,” I said.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being too nice.
“What did my stalker want?” I asked as he headed to the kitchen.
“Oh, he didn’t say. He fled after we’d exchanged a few blows,” Ethan said,
“Did you think about asking him before you hit him?” I replied.
“Where would the fun be in that?” he said over his shoulder.
I dropped it and went to my preparation room, where Kyra was waiting for me. The tip of her tail was bright green, and her paws were gold. She refused to look at me.
“Did you ruin Keirn’s painting, Cat?” I demanded.
She lifted her nose and refused to acknowledge me.
“You’re having a bath,” I said.
She hissed and prepared to run for it. I picked her up, ignored her claws, and took her into the bathroom.
“You’re not coming out of your tattoo for a week,” I said.
She growl
ed at me and pushed very pissed off images into my mind.
“You have been told time and time again not to fuck with Keirn’s painting,” I said as I turned on the shower.
She clawed my back and left deep wounds when she returned to her tattoo, where she sulked. I returned downstairs in the hopes that we still had some healing salve left. So much for studying.
“What happened to you?” Ethan asked.
Keirn walked into the room, his mouth in a tight line, his ears pinned to his head.
“His cat walked across my painting. Again,” Keirn ground out.
“Ah,” Ethan said and focused intently on his cooking.
“I heard her screaming where you bathed her,” Keirn said with a small smile.
“I’m sorry, old friend,” I said.
He laughed. “Vyx is quite sure the painting looks better this way.”
“Maybe it’ll be a hot new trend,” I said.
“I saw your new certificate,” Keirn said.
I shrugged. “Makes no difference to me, just glad the council isn’t sniffing around anymore.”
Keirn wrapped his hands around my upper arms.
“I’ll always be at your side. I’ll fight whatever may come for you,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Something you’re not telling me? That sounded pretty ominous.”
“Nothing in particular, but I’m sure we’ll create plenty more tales to tell,” he said with a grin.
The rest of the week was comfortably quiet. My stalker didn’t return, and Kyra only woke me up in the night once. She howled and fidgeted, proclaiming that she would behave herself. Aris reminded me of the number of times she’d broken such promises in the past. Isaiah settled into his new job and paid off what existing debts he had. No one had mentioned my re-grading, and I was grateful for that.
I threw myself into studying everything I could about ink magic in all its shapes and forms. I touched on the ability to work with pure ink. When I couldn’t sleep one night and Isa was in his own bed, I added drop of my blood to a small pool of pitch-coloured ink. The sensation in the back of my mind was of a wild pure magic that I struggled to wrangle. Sweat dripped down my brow by the time I finally managed mentally bend it to my will. A pair of small, black songbirds slowly grew from the ink. Tips of wings crept up out of the ink, slowly wings, backs, and heads followed. The small birds were silent but perfectly formed as they cautiously hopped forward, leaving tiny footprints in their wake.
