Tragic Ink

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I was wrong.

  “What is it?” Rhys asked, his grin vanishing as he took in the horror-struck expression I gave him.

  “I gave that tattoo to Walter Glass a couple of years ago.”

  “Looks like someone pissed him off pretty bad tonight.” Rhys looked back at me, his expression grave. “Will it be like last time?”

  My body hummed in dread at the thought. “Maybe. We have to go,” I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.

  Rhys jumped up, and rather than stop me, he followed on my heels. “I’m driving.”

  I steeled myself against the pain, hoping like hell I’d make it outside before this thing peeled away from me.

  “Fine,” I said, breathless with the effort of holding the ink inside my skin. I was too distracted to care when Rhys pressed his hand to the small of my back, leading me though the busy bar and into the night.

  When he steered me to his truck rather than my own, I let him. Mentally, I listed out all the reasons why this time wasn’t the same as last time. There weren’t nearly enough to convince me, though. We were together, we’d been about to kiss, and I was still just as much in love with Rhys Graywalk as I’d ever been. I could only pray history wasn’t about to repeat itself; that whoever was on the receiving end of this hellhound would live through it.

  Inside the truck, Rhys cranked the engine and peeled out, asking, “Where to?”

  “I don’t know yet. The tattoo is going to . . . peel off my skin,” I said through gritted teeth. “When it does, it will try to find its way to the other half.”

  “Will it obey you like the bird does?”

  “No. This one’s different. It doesn’t belong to me, so I don’t control it. I just get a carbon copy.”

  “What will it do once it’s free?”

  “It will try to join itself. We need to follow it wherever it goes and try to stop it from hurting someone.”

  “Will it be solid?” he asked.

  I understood his question and shook my head. “No. It will be life size, but only the original is solid. That’s the one we have to stop.” Kill. I meant kill, but I couldn’t say the word. Not so soon after Aelwyn.

  “Okay,” Rhys said, his gaze hard. His eyes glinted in the darkness of the truck, and I didn’t miss the edge of danger he wore now like a second skin. I’d never seen him fight, but I knew instinctively in that moment that Rhys could take down anyone or anything that threatened me.

  Anything but my own magic, anyway. No one could save me from that.

  The thought depressed me. But then the pain took over again, and everything else faded. The hellhound was seconds away from separating itself from my body. Which meant the magic being used to activate it was almost complete. This time, I let it happen. When the ink on my side disappeared, I blinked and looked up. Through the window of the truck, I saw it pass through the passenger door beside me and out onto the empty street beyond. Nothing more than a gray shadow of a creature, but I knew better than anyone how lethal it would be against whatever it was aimed at.

  “There,” I said. “He’s headed for the west side of town.”

  “Shit,” Rhys breathed again as he stared at the ghostly form of the hellhound. “He’s fast.”

  “We have to hurry, Rhys,” I urged.

  Rhys blinked, then punched the gas, and we shot off.

  If we were lucky, we’d get there in time to stop history from repeating itself. If we weren’t . . . someone else might die tonight. And it was all my fault. My gift had once again become a curse.

  Chapter 8

  My heart constricted with fear and confusion as the hound led us closer and closer to the edge of town—straight toward Aelwyn’s old Victorian. Rhys didn’t speak a word, but I saw his jaw tense up as we neared. I held my breath when the driveway came into view, but the creature didn’t turn and instead streaked right past, finally turning in almost half a mile later and sprinting straight for the little cottage that belonged to Fred and Betsy, Aelwyn’s closest neighbors. Very human neighbors—which meant they didn’t stand a chance against something like a hellhound.

  “Shit,” Rhys swore as we pulled to a quick stop in their yard.

  I didn’t answer. The hound had already disappeared inside, passing straight through the closed front door. I jumped out of the truck and sprinted across the yard in pursuit. Rhys was right beside me.

  Fred and Betsy were retired. No kids. Not a very active social life. Fred liked to garden. Betsy liked to can. They made preserves for us every Christmas, but that was about as far as my knowledge of them went. If they were in danger now because of some tattoo I’d done—

  A hand on my arm yanked me sideways. I let Rhys drag me along, surprised by his strength, until we were both tucked around the corner of the house.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered. “You can’t just march in there. If that hellhound is being used for something violent—”

  “It’s my creation, Rhys. My fault. If they’re in there, I have to help them.”

  “Fine, but be smart about it.” He pulled a knife from somewhere inside his coat. Its pointed tip gleamed in the dim light.

  Silently, I eyed it, then him, and he blew out a breath. “I go first,” he said.

  I nodded, ignoring the flashback to three years ago. Another night. Another husband and wife. A heart squeezed and squeezed until it just stopped. Tonight’s spell might be even worse, considering the sharp teeth on the monster in there.

  Rhys crept toward the door, and I stayed close, listening and watching as a light breeze ruffled through the bare branches overhead. It was cold, but it was still—the kind of stillness that always seemed to accompany a freeze. It was also the kind of stillness that made every little noise sound even louder. I forced my breathing to go quiet, taking in a long, deep breath to help steady my pulse.

  Ahead of me, Rhys climbed the steps and tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand. The door swung open. I held my breath, still close on his heels as we crept silently inside. A rustling sounded from somewhere in the back. Rhys adjusted direction and headed toward it.

  On my arm, Ethan stirred. I was about to let him loose when something squished underneath my boot.

  I looked down and cringed at the pool of blood. No, not a pool. A trail. I followed it with my eyes until it disappeared around the corner of the kitchen. Not the kitchen again. Rhys and I exchanged a glance. Somehow he managed to look both concerned for me and violent at the same time. My chest ached for him, but I ignored it and instead focused on the magic that was tugging at me. The magic I’d created and that had called me here tonight.

  With slow steps, we made our way around the corner and into the tiny galley kitchen. I stared at the blood on the floor in confusion.

  “There’s no one here,” I said finally.

  Rhys bent low, studying the pool of blood more closely now. I stepped around him, caught up in the scene before me as I edged closer and closer. Beside me, Rhys was careful not to touch anything, but by the time I remembered to pay attention, my boots had already wandered too close. When I backed away, I left a set of bloody prints in my wake.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  The rustling came again, this time from just outside the back door.

  Rhys jumped up, brandishing the knife as he leapt clear of the pooled blood and threw open the back door. I made the same jump, peering around his shoulder just in time to see the two hellhounds merge into one another and become a single solid form.

  The hound looked up from where it had bent low over a pile of leaves on one side of the yard, its snout and jaw covered in blood. Fangs protruded from its open mouth, and yellow eyes glowed as it glared down at whatever lay before it. Black fur covered its giant body, and long claws extended from its huge paws. When it spotted us, it gave a sharp howl and then turned for the woods.

  I hissed, knowing we were about to lose it for good. Rhys fumbled in his jacket, hopefully for a weapon, but we were out of tim
e. Without stopping to think, I let Ethan peel himself free through the layers of my clothes and coat. He tore free from my skin faster than he’d ever done before, and with a single flap of his powerful wings, he swooped across the yard and dug his claws into the hind parts of the four-legged creature. The hellhound cried out and tried twisting away, but Ethan held fast, and they both jerked sideways as Ethan pecked and clawed at the thing.

  I looked back to where the hound had been crouching. Two forms lay half-covered in leaves. I peered closer, unsure of what I was seeing, but after willing my eyes to adjust to the darkness, two faces came into focus. Wrinkled with age and coated in blood, Fred and Betsy stared upward, both of their stark expressions frozen in lifeless terror. I let out a strangled gasp and took a step toward them, but Rhys stopped me with a hand around my waist.

  “I see them,” I choked, desperation clawing its way up my throat. “I have to help.”

  “It’s too late,” he said in a rough voice.

  In the distance, a siren wailed.

  Rhys and I locked eyes. “Motherfu—” Rhys began.

  Ethan screeched sharply.

  I swung my gaze back to him as he went flailing and hit the ground several feet away from the hound. I sucked in a sharp breath, every single thought vanishing at the sight of my familiar in danger. I wrenched free from Rhys and ran for my hawk, kicking up a spray of mud in my wake. I was vaguely aware of the hound’s howl and its new track—aimed right for me. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop. I had to save Ethan no matter what else happened.

  The sirens grew louder, drowning out the sound of my own cry and Rhys yelling my name. For a moment, everything faded, and all I saw was Ethan shuffling toward me in the half-melted snow. Sounds faded.

  When I was a foot away, I called up every ounce of magic inside me and sped up. When I collided with Ethan, instead of slamming into me or bouncing off, he melted into a thin layer of magic and ink, and by the time I blinked again, he was nothing more than an image on my arm.

  Safe.

  He was safe.

  Already, I could feel him gathering his energy and healing himself to become the whole creature I’d spelled when I’d created him.

  I sank to my knees, gasping for breath and thanking whatever forces had helped me salvage at least one life from this night.

  Behind me, something growled.

  My stomach tightened as reality came crashing down around me. The hellhound.

  I twisted in time to see it lurch for me, its bloody jowls open and sharpened teeth aimed for my face. I screamed.

  Over the hound’s head, I watched as Rhys sprinted for me. In mid-stride, he flicked his wrist, a quick back and forth that was nearly too fast to follow. Silver glinted through the air. A second later, the knife he’d held a moment ago buried itself in the back of the hound’s head. The creature let out a yelp that ended abruptly, and then it fell less than a foot from where I sat, unmoving against the leaves.

  Rhys rushed over, yanking me to my feet. I leaned on him, letting him hold me tightly against his chest, stunned by how fast Rhys had moved. How ruthless and true his aim had been and how little he seemed affected by it all. Had he always been able to do that? How had I missed it? What else was he hiding? I started to ask, but the siren reached a crescendo and tires rolled over gravel.

  Rhys stiffened and then grabbed my shoulders, peering down at me. “Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head. “No, but Betsy and Fred—”

  “There’s nothing we can do now. Gwen, listen to me. Your footprints are all over that kitchen. It won’t look good.” My stomach tightened as understanding dawned. Had this been a setup? If so, I’d walked right into it. From the look on his face, Rhys knew it too. His mouth tightened at the edges. “Can you run?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Do not go to Aelwyn’s. Run a mile west past the falls. There’s a rock peak there. Do you know it?”

  “At the base of Mt. Alexa. Yes, I—”

  “Wait for me there. Hide yourself and do not make a sound. Use your familiar to guard yourself. Do not come out for anyone else,” he said quietly. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  He pressed a cold kiss to my forehead, then my lips, but the pressure was gone before I could react. He shoved me toward the trees as a car door opened and closed out front.

  “Go,” he insisted.

  I didn’t question his order. Instead, I turned and ran, letting the forest swallow me up, leaving the murdering magic I’d created behind me once again.

  Chapter 9

  Huddled inside the alcove of a large outcropping of rocks, I shivered for an hour before Ethan alerted me through our bond that someone was coming up the dirt road. A moment later, headlights came into view. I tensed, ready to run if necessary. Park Ranger Rusty Higgins patrolled the woods around town every night, although he should have been in wolf form instead of driving. I’d been lucky to avoid him so far, and I couldn’t afford to be found by him now. Rhys had said he would come, and I had no doubt he would keep his promise, but in the meantime, I was exposed. Cold. Without a single form of defense if whoever was doing all this found me first. I had no doubt now that someone out there was trying to screw with me. Not kill me. They could have done that already. No, instead they wanted to ruin me first. And so far, they were doing a damned good job of it, too.

  The headlights swung sideways as a truck pulled into the visitor lot down the hill from where I’d hidden. The base of the great falls was a popular hiking meetup for tourists and even locals. Not at two in the morning, though.

  The headlights swung away, and I finally got a look at the vehicle from my vantage point. A sigh escaped me, interrupted by the shuddering of my body. Ethan swooped low enough that Rhys ducked as he got out. It seemed I wasn’t the only impatient one out here tonight.

  “Gwen?” Rhys called quietly as he started up the hill.

  I pushed to my feet and slid out into the open. Rhys breathed out when he spotted me, his shoulders relaxing as he closed the distance between us and gathered me into his arms.

  “I was so damn worried. Are you all right?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing hard.

  Some of my shivering subsided. “I’m okay,” I said in a voice that was nowhere near convincing.

  “Come on. Let’s get you warm and safe.”

  I didn’t argue as he led the way back to the truck. In fact, I didn’t say a word as he tucked me inside, spreading a blanket over me before blasting the heat as high as it would go. I sat back to let him shut the door, but he paused, brow creasing.

  “Your hawk . . . I’d like to leave him up there for a while to help scout our way. Is that okay?”

  Ethan practically screamed at me mentally, and I nodded, a wry smile tipping one side of my numbed lips. “I think you two are on the same side.”

  “Good.” Rhys shut the door and walked around, climbing inside. When he reached across the space and grabbed me, I jumped. He ignored that as he slid me across the bench seat until my thigh was pressed tightly against his.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, though I didn’t protest the contact. I already felt warmer than I had before.

  “Warming you up for one thing,” he said, tucking the blanket carefully around me. “And doing a little to help restore my own sanity.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was out of my mind for the last hour,” he admitted. “Terrified I’d get here and you’d be gone . . . or worse.”

  “Did you find Walter?” I asked.

  “No, I didn’t see anyone else, and the cops are . . . there’ll be a full investigation.”

  I nodded, still too numbed to think too hard about that.

  “I don’t understand why Walter would have wanted to use his tattoo on innocent people,” Rhys said.

  “He’s not exactly the world’s most cheerful person,” I admitted.

  Rhys shook his head. “Still. Why get it in the first p
lace? A hellhound is a pretty aggressive choice, right?”

  I shrugged. “He said he was worried about his safety on the job. He worked for Waste Management and said he frequently had to outrun aggressive dogs and that he’d once stumbled on a bear digging through someone’s trash.”

  “Yeah, I guess I could see that,” Rhys said.

  We were silent for a minute. “Maybe it was someone else,” I said quietly.

  Rhys turned to me so quickly, I knew he’d been considering the same thing. “You think someone else activated it? Is that even possible?”

  I didn’t know what to think, but that didn’t change the fact that the hellhound had been here and done some real harm. “Sure, I mean, with the right magic, anything’s possible, right?” I shrugged. “All I know is someone wanted to hurt innocent humans and they used my tattoo to do it. Again.”

  Rhys bit his lip. “Gwen, we’re going to figure this out. It’s going to be okay.”

  I nodded, my eyes stinging with tears. “Rhys, I . . . Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For all of it. Protecting me and caring for Aelwyn and for saving my life tonight. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish when you— I should have thought more about your feelings in all of it. I should have realized everything you gave up just to keep me safe.”

  “I’m sorry I walked away, Gwen. It’s the single biggest regret of my life.” His voice was hoarse with emotion, and I felt my own eyes sting as I blinked back hot tears. “You’re the most important thing in the world. Making you happy is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  I swallowed hard as he stared down at me, aware of our closeness. And suddenly it wasn’t all about warmth or worry. His chest heaved, and I leaned closer, my body straining for more of him. The air around us thickened, and the world outside faded. There was only this—the two of us. And how badly I wanted him to kiss me.