Cutty shrugged. “I can take her home.”
“You can put her in the guest room I crash in sometimes,” Lars added.
“I’m glad you’ve got this worked out,” Cutty said and shot him a look that told him he realized he’d just walked into what Lars had wanted from the start. “What about during the day? I can’t be with her all the time. Do we leave her alone?”
“Bring her here during the day,” Lars said before he could stop himself. It was a good call, though. No one should be with her all the time. Breaking it up was the best idea.
“Now that you’ve figured out sleepovers and daycare, what about the fact that Malokin might be tapped into her? Like he was with Karma?” Fated asked. “We don’t know what kind of tracking he’s got going on with Faith. He had Karma’s every move—every word—mapped out, and let me tell you, not only is that a head trip but we can’t risk having a walking, talking bug around us, knowing every step we take.”
“She either agrees to be completely cut off or she’s got to go,” Bic said.
Lars took a step toward him. “Nobody’s killing her.”
“Back off.” Bic took a step away, regaining his personal space. “I didn’t mean kill her. I meant go, as in a-galaxy-far-far-away kind of go.”
“I agree,” Cutty said. “She needs to get the tattoo or she gets a one way ticket to Antarctica.”
Chapter Four
Faith watched the guys discussing her across the room and forced herself to stay calm, or at least look like she was. There was Lars, who kept looking back over toward her, making her wonder for the hundredth time if she’d made the right choice coming here. The guy they’d called Fate was almost as dark in coloring as Lars was. Two of them had nearly shaved heads but the one who had kneeled beside her looked like his sandy-colored hair was growing back in. The other one—she’d heard them call him Angus—had a mop of curls. But that didn’t distract any from the impression of violence he threw off. No, he blended quite well with the group.
There they stood, talking about her and deciding her fate. What if they were deciding whether to kill her?
Even though Lars had intervened, she wasn’t expecting any additional help. The way she had instinctively kept looking at him while the others had questioned her was embarrassing. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d just kept seeking him out with her eyes. Then he’d turned his back on her, which made it all the more surprising when he’d called them off. It was obvious he wanted nothing to do with her situation, and she couldn’t count on a second save.
As if they’d come to some sort of agreement, they all turned to look at her in unison. They broke apart and, one by one, walked back toward her, Lars leading the way. At least he was meeting her gaze now. If he was going to kill her, would he be able to look her in the eyes? She didn’t think she’d be able to look at someone who she was going to kill but she’d never murdered anyone either. She didn’t really have a good frame of reference. In court cases though, didn’t they say jurors didn’t look at the people they were going to convict? Either way, it gave her something to cling to, unless they were all mentally unbalanced and that would shoot that theory to hell.
Lars crouched down on his haunches in front of her instead of towering. She took that as another good sign, and it was a lot better than what that other guy, Fate, had done, getting all in her space.
“You can stay here with us.”
Of all the things that could’ve made her composure slip, she didn’t think good news would be the thing that did it. She pulled in a ragged breath, trying to hold it together. She didn’t realize how scared she’d been, of getting kicked out with nowhere else to turn, until she heard that. Or maybe part of what she was feeling was relief because it meant they weren’t going to kill her.
“But there are conditions,” he continued.
Conditions. Not surprising. There was always a catch. Sometimes the devil hides in the details. Her eyes shot to the guys standing behind him and then back to Lars. Her fingers clenched in her lap, her nails biting into her palms.
She had no other good options, which was probably why she felt like the acid in her stomach was churning. “What are they?”
“Listen to me, no one is going to hurt you.” He laid his fingers over where hers were clasped on her lap, the heat of his hand drawing her attention to where he touched her. “Do you hear me?”
She nodded, looking back up to his face and not the reassuring hand.
“There are things you are going to have to accept if you do stay. You are no longer human. You do understand that? The life you had is gone. We can’t have you jeopardizing our situation by trying to reach out to people in your past. They’re gone. That whole life is gone.”
It shouldn’t have been a shock. She’d known it. But still, when had the slim chance of a psychotic break become the outcome she had secretly hoped for? She swiped a dirty sleeve across her cheek, not sure if she was making more of a mess but trying to keep herself from falling apart any more than she already was.
“That man, Malokin, how much do you know of him?” he asked and she could see the distrust still there.
Forcing her eyes to stay on his, she said, “Only what I’ve told you.” There was no way she was going to mention the other things he’d said to her in the short time frame she’d talked to him. And she couldn’t think of a single reason why it would be a good idea to mention the other man. Even thinking of him made her skin crawl. Her situation was precarious at best.
“But you do know he isn’t human?”
“Yes, I guessed that might be the case.”
“We’ve been searching for him for a long time. He’s slippery and he’s resourceful. He can also do things, track people, and we haven’t been able to figure out how. He might be tracking you even as you sit here. He might be hearing every word we say.”
Her hands felt like ice as she thought of Malokin and the other one knowing everything, and her eyes shot to the door.
“He can’t touch you here,” Lars said, unaware there was another one she was worried about. “And he won’t come anywhere near us.”
His words weren’t a bluff. She thought back to how eager he’d been to know where Malokin had been. He was definitely the predator in this situation, not the prey. She was safe with them.
Lars watched her intently for a reaction. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t care. She’d take help in any form she could get it. She’d take her chances on an untrusting Lars.
She didn’t have anything to track, though. It wasn’t like she had a cell phone or anything that could be traced. All she possessed were the filthy clothes on her back. “How could he possibly do that?”
“We don’t know how he does it but we do know how to stop it. You have a choice to make. You can either let us do this or we’ll help you find somewhere else to go.”
She leaned and rested an elbow on the back of the chair and rested her forehead in it. “Go where?”
She was half talking to herself but Lars answered. “Somewhere far away from here.”
“But if he can track me?” she asked, looking for confirmation of where that would end for her. She might be unsettled mentally but it didn’t rob her of all logic. Leaving here would be a one-way ticket to nowhere with Malokin and the other one following on her tail. They’d get her eventually.
Lars nodded then stood to his full height, and she sensed the shift in him as well. Her choices sucked. He knew it and wanted to make sure she knew it as well.
Faith sat there, realizing just how horrible her situation was. She’d been a businesswoman; she’d built herself a life from the ground up with no one helping her and now here she was, afraid and indecisive. She was terrified to stay and even more horrified to go back out there alone.
She could sit there all day but she didn’t think that would magically create a third option. She either accepted their help, however they wanted to give it, or she’d be on her own in a situation that made Alice’s rabbit ho
le look normal. It wasn’t a choice in her mind, as long as it met one condition. “And this thing you can do, will it stop any of them from tracking me? What about the men with him? He had some guys, too.”
“None of his people will be able to track you. I’ll have to give you a special type of tattoo. It’s the only thing I know of that works. There are other less intrusive ways, a little more work intensive too, but they won’t work for you now. If you want our help, it’s all or nothing. You need to understand something before we go forward. You know you’re not mortal anymore.”
She nodded, even though he knew she understood that. “What am I exactly?”
“Most creatures that exist have two forms. There is the core of who you are, which stays with you throughout eternity, and then there is the form that you take in each human life. When you died, you shed that outer form. That form is what protects your core while you’re on this Earth. You no longer have that. You’re still you but in your most true self.”
“But I feel like I’m human.” Her fingers ran over the skin of her leg, revealed by a tear in her pants.
“When you went through the transition, in order to exist here, your core self goes through a slight transition. There are a lot of similarities and you might feel mortal but you aren’t. You won’t age; you’ll start hearing and seeing better. You’ll be able to move quicker. Imagine it like you were wrapped in bubble wrap and that layer has been shed.”
“That doesn’t sound bad.”
“There is a downside. If this form gets injured, there’s nothing left of you to move on from here. Also, if I put this tattoo on you, your soul, or whatever you want to call what you are now, won’t be connected to whatever lies beyond this dimension. Heaven or hell, reincarnation—this is it. On the plus side, staying around here isn’t the worst thing ever. You’ll never grow old, never get sick. There are perks to living forever.”
Faith thought about the ramifications of what he was saying. “And if I don’t do this?”
“Depends on what you do when Malokin catches up to you. If he does, and you aren’t willing to play his game like you say, you’ll end up finished anyway.”
After that explanation, there was no choice. “Let’s do it,” she said and then paused. “But a tattoo? Is it like magic or something?” She knew she sounded skeptical, but come on. A magic tattoo? In spite of everything she’d just gone through, she felt a giggle coming on. Or maybe it was nervous laughter.
He raised his eyebrows as if to suggest her question was the ridiculous thing, not the tattoo. “What color are your eyes?”
“What? Brown,” she replied, not even thinking of the question.
“They’re bluish green.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How tall are you?”
She shook her head. She used to be about five foot six. It hit her hard that she had no idea how tall she was now.
“Without measuring, I’d say a couple inches over five feet.” He huffed. “This is the problem with all you transfers.”
“Transfers?”
“Former humans. You were stabbed to death but yet you’re sitting here in my tattoo shop and have the nerve to question if maybe magic exists.”
The guy had a point, and suddenly the tattoo seemed a little more legitimate. “Okay.” She nodded. “What do I need to do?” She didn’t know if trusting him was the most idiotic thing she’d ever do but it wasn’t like there was a line of knights behind him waiting to ride to her rescue. This tattooed man and his scary looking friends were option one, two and infinity.
“Nothing but decide what couple of square inches of flesh you want to sacrifice to my tattoo gun and lie over there.” He pointed to a padded bench across the room. The guys standing just beyond it, watching her, drew her attention.
“I told you, don’t worry about them,” Lars said in a soft voice but sounded almost angry about saying it. Weird man.
She nodded and forced herself to stop looking in their direction.
Lars waved his hand impatiently toward the bench again and she took a deep breath, stood up and headed toward it.
“If this is under control, I’m out of here,” Fate said. “The Jinxes are on watch and I can’t keep those little bastards sober.”
Lars waved him on and turned to one of the other guys. “Angus, can you go get us some subs or something?”
Food. Faith’s mouth watered thinking of a sub sandwich but she didn’t say anything; she just headed to the bench. She didn’t have a penny to her name. Her clothes, dirty and bedraggled, weren’t even her own. Her pride could only take so much begging. She wasn’t going to ask for anything else. It was bad enough she’d shown up like she had.
“Yeah, cause it’s that easy to go shopping these days, with all the stores closing,” Angus complained.
“We’ll go with him,” Bic, the shaved head guy said as he patted the other guy on the back. “I know a place down the street that’s still open. Come on.” The three of them left the shop while Faith was still digesting what they’d said. Had the world deteriorated that much in the past week?
Once the sickness had passed, she’d made her way here mostly through the wooded areas. She been so consumed with her own issues that she hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. Now that she thought back, there had been an awful lot of businesses boarded up and the streets had seemed eerily empty. But it was a coastal town. She’d thought a storm was heading in or something.
“What’s happening out there, it’s because of this guy, Malokin?”
“We aren’t sure, but we suspect so. We just know that a lot of humans are getting violent and it started the same time he showed up.” He pointed to the bench. “Come on. This needs to be done sooner rather than later.”
“Can you put it on my back?” she asked, lying down on her stomach, deciding to let him put the tattoo somewhere she wouldn’t see, not sure she’d want a daily reminder staring at her in the mirror if she ever dug her way out of this mess.
How had things gone from so perfect to this in a week’s time? Why didn’t catastrophes ever come with warnings? She got up one day, thinking everything was perfect, to have it all torn apart in a moment. It was as if we all lived in a house of cards and at any second a strong breeze could blow it to pieces. And somehow, when our cards were all strewn about in a mess, we were shocked it happened.
She’d opened up an art gallery a year ago, and it was doing so well she was considering opening another. She had a great group of friends, had even gone out with a nice guy last week, who she was making plans to see again. Now look at her. Dead at twenty-eight, a no-named face running from one psychopath who made people crazy, and another one she feared even mentioning, all while sleeping in the forest, picking bugs out of her hair when she woke.
Chapter Five
Lars sat in his chair beside her. He moved his portable table into place with the special ink. No one touched that ink, not even the guys.
Faith was stretched out on the bench in front of him, hair knotted on top of her head, clothes filthy, and yet he felt his dick getting hard. She was a mess. Didn’t even smell good. She wasn’t anywhere near the way he liked his women—how most men liked them; clean, with maybe a touch of perfume and a cute outfit. No, she was filthy and smelled like the forest, and not the part where wildflowers grew.
So why was he fighting off an erection, the likes of which he hadn’t had in years? Shit. What the hell was wrong with him?
He needed to get his head together.
“Is here good?” he asked as his fingers grazed the exposed skin on her lower spine. And the next thing that popped into his head was tugging down the snug pants she was wearing, grabbing her small waist and arching her hips up so he could thrust himself deep within her, pumping into her until he heard her sweet voice moaning and calling out his name as she came.
“I don’t care as long as I can’t see it,” she said, and instead of thinking of her words, he thought of what she’d sound like moaning beneath hi
m or how many times he could make her come. How hard he would come inside her.
Maybe if he concentrated on the tattoo he could get past whatever this sudden and powerful attraction was. After all the women he’d had, he’d thought he was immune to getting this worked up over one.
He shook his head and leaned forward again. He pushed her shirt up a little more, to give himself more clearance. She raised her hips slightly to let it slide easier.
Her skin was unblemished perfection, the dent of her spine running up the center of her back. Her curves were smooth, dipping from a tiny waist before swelling with her hips to a perfect ass, not too skinny and not too big. All he could think about was grabbing her with both hands and setting her down on his cock.
He leaned back in his seat, away from her, and tried to clear his thoughts before his body followed the actions in his mind. When that didn’t work, he stood abruptly. “I’ll be right back. I need another color. Don’t touch anything.”
He was already halfway to his office when he heard her say okay. He shut the door, not caring that he’d just left her alone. It was better than the alternative of some serious togetherness. What was wrong with him? Maybe there was some sort of spell on her?
He dug out his phone quickly and dialed Angus. If anyone would know, it would be him. No one discussed what he used to do for the Universe but once you’re the Evil Eye, you don’t forget that shit.
“What’s up?” Angus said.
“Before I start the tattoo, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t pick up on any other magic coming off her. You know, anything. A curse or spell, no matter how slight, could react strangely with the tattoo.”
“Nothing,” Angus said quickly.
“You’re sure? Take a second to really think on it. You’re completely positive you aren’t missing anything? I mean, it’s not like you didn’t miss the fact that Karma was being tracked.”
Angus let out an annoyed sigh. “We already talked about this when it happened with Karma. However he does what he does, it isn’t a curse.”
Dead Ink (Karma #4) Page 3
