6. Chapter Six

It was just the lighting. It was just the lighting. It was just the lighting.

Trying to convince myself was pointless, but I repeated the lie silently as I hurried down the street, checking over my shoulder periodically to see if I was being followed. There was nothing there, but I couldn"t shake the feeling, the invisible weight on my shoulders that made my hairs stand on end. The shadow had been there in the bar, and even though I couldn"t see it now, I knew it wouldn"t be far behind.

My stomach knotted painfully, and I gasped a breath. How long had the thing just been invisible when I thought it wasn't there? Had it not been for the reflection in the drink glass, I wouldn't have seen it at all. Had it always been there, following me, watching me, haunting me?

For the thousandth time, I wondered if all of this was just in my head. Was there even a shadow? Was it just a hallucination?

The thought made me feel sick and hopeless.

How could I possibly get rid of this nightmare that refused to go away?

Fear threatening to kill the slight buzz I"d managed, I kept my head low as I hurried down the sidewalk. A steady drizzle fell, soaking into my clothes, chilling my skin. I didn"t have a destination in mind—only that I wanted to get away from the shadow in the bar—but I wasn"t far from the tattoo shop. Maybe Luke was already there setting up for the day.

I took a right at the end of the block, nearly running into a man in a black suit, and mumbled an apology as I swiveled around him. Another left brought Getting Stabby'sneon sign into view, and I picked up my pace, eager to get out of the rain. I was already planning my answers to the questions Luke might ask. Why was I not in class? Why was I soaking wet? Why was I tipsy this early on a Tuesday?

However, when I reached the storefront, I found the interior still darkened. Obviously, Luke wasn"t there yet.

"Damn it," I mumbled, trying the door anyway. It didn"t budge.

I sighed, pulling out my phone to check the time. The shop didn"t open for another few hours, but it had been worth a shot. I took a moment beneath the awning to avoid the rain, scrolling on my phone as I searched for nearby places I could go. Maybe I could find another distraction, somewhere else to hang out until Lennon got out of class.

Then what?

I would wait to meet up with my twin and then…

Indecision made my heart skip a funny beat, and I worked my lower lip between my teeth as I debated. Maybe I would finally break down and tell her about the shadow that haunted me. It obviously wasn"t going away, and things certainly weren"t getting better. If anything, they were getting worse, the hooded figure showing up more frequently than ever before.

I was tired of keeping the secret, and more than anything, I wanted to tell someone about it, if only for reassurance that I wasn"t crazy.

But what if I am crazy?

My dwindling bank account didn"t support going to any of the museums in town, or much of anything else for that matter. I could have just gone back to our apartment, but I felt least safe there, especially alone. For some reason, I felt more at ease out walking the streets.

Maybe it was because I'd gaslit myself into thinking I could lose the shadow in a maze of sidewalks. If I blended in with other people, maybe it would take interest in someone else and leave me alone. Or maybe it was because the anxiety I got from wandering through the city was enough to put my fear in a chokehold, if only for a little while, and being anxious was slightly better than being afraid.

Yes, the downtown streets of Davenport were much better than our claustrophobic apartment. I would walk the sidewalks aimlessly if I had to, counting down the minutes until Lennon's class ended. I wasn"t sure what came after that, but maybe I'd finally be able to buck up the courage to do what I should have done a long time ago, to tell my twin the truth.

"Jovie?"

The voice made me jump, and I squeaked, nearly dropping my phone. I whirled around to find Luke standing beneath a navy umbrella, a brow arched as he looked me over. "What are you doing?"

I opened my mouth, but then snapped it closed again. I couldn"t tell him I was running from a shadow, but it was the only thing bouncing around in my brain. I wish I"d been a better liar, but coming up with stuff on the spot had never been my forte.

"Uhm…I-I'm…" I stammered, still not sure what to say. Bracing myself earlier for his questions obviously hadn't helped, and the alcohol wasn't working to settle my nerves either. My skin crawled with discomfort the longer his eyes weighed on me. I had to say something. "Running from…the rain."

Really? That's the best I can come up with?I groaned internally.

Luke chuckled once and stepped beneath the awning, lowering and folding his umbrella. "So I see."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved his keys, unlocking the front door and hurrying to the back of the shop to turn off the alarm. I followed him inside, lingering near the receptionist desk as he turned on the floodlights. It was small and surprisingly elegant for a tattoo shop, with polished black floors, contemporary light fixtures, and framed art lining the walls. There were four tattoo stations, two on either side of the open-concept space, and two piercing rooms blocked off with curtains at the back.

"How long were you standing outside?" he asked when he returned to his station. He draped his coat over the back of the chair.

"Not long."

I took a cautious step forward into the belly of the store, keeping my eyes away from the full-length mirror to my right. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I imagined looking over to find the shadow waiting for me in the glass. At least he wasn't in the corner of my eye. That had to be a good thing? Right?

"That's good." Luke turned to face me and awkward silence followed. I don't know what I was expecting by coming here—it wasn't a magical solution to my looming problem—but a stare-off with my boss wasn't exactly what I'd pictured. However, considering how quiet Luke normally was, I didn't know how I could have expected anything different.

Maybe, despite the awkwardness, it was a good idea coming here. He would let me hang out in the shop, but he wouldn't pry. I didn't have to tell him anything if I didn't want to. I could do this.

I took a deep, calming breath, and tried to look much less nervous than I felt. "I just need to kill a little time before Len gets out of class," I said, shuffling my feet. "Is it okay if I hang out here? I can help clean or something."

He paused for a beat before nodding. "Yeah, that's fine." His eyes swept from one end of the shop to the other. "I'm sure things can be restocked and dusted. You can sweep and clean the mirrors."

My heart sank, but I tried to keep the feeling out of my expression. It seemed like a cruel cosmic joke, but I'd already committed to helping. I couldn't tell him I had a sudden phobia of reflective glass and couldn't clean them. Maybe I could draw out the other tasks and save the mirrors for last.

"Sure, no problem." I dipped my head and scurried to the back of the store where the cleaning closet was.

I grabbed a broom and dust pan, sweeping every inch of the shop. It was surprisingly clean considering how much time the receptionist spent flirting with customers and not doing his job, but I took my time anyway while Luke worked quietly on a sketch. It was a stunning ribcage piece of the grim reaper surrounded by roses, and I tried to steal glances of it while I worked.

After the floors, I set to making sure the tattoo stations were stocked with ink pots, alcohol wipes, and gloves. Luke had turned on the music, and the steady thrum of a familiar beat had me bobbing my head while I organized and rearranged. After cleaning my piercing room and reorganizing, it was finally time for the dreaded mirrors.

While I wasn't excited about them, I felt a little better. It had been nearly two hours since I'd left the bar, and cleaning had given my mind something to do besides panic. I hadn't even seen a whisper of the shadow the entire time I'd been at the shop, for which I was exceedingly grateful.

I had to dig to the back of the cleaning closet for a new bottle of glass cleaner because some idiot—probably the receptionist, Brad—had left an empty one on the shelf. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and spun around to head back up front, but found the doorway blocked by a large figure. I screamed and threw my cleaning supplies before I could even register that it was Luke.

"Oh my God," I gasped, clutching my chest as my heart threatened to beat through my ribcage. "I'm so sorry. You scared me."

My eyes fell from his concerned gaze to the floor where the glass cleaner was now leaking; the sprayer cracked when it hit the marble, and it was spurting blue liquid everywhere.

"You seem extra jumpy today, kid." I was too concerned with my frantic heartbeat to even roll my eyes at the nickname, and I froze when he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his gaze locked with mine. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

I swallowed hard as heat prickled across my cheeks. Images of the hooded figure from my nightmares swirled to life in my mind like smoke, slowly forcing the air out of my lungs, threatening to choke me. My stomach turned, my skin suddenly feeling too tight.

No, things were not alright, but as I opened my mouth to answer, the bell on the front door jingled, making me flinch. I sucked in a sharp breath as Luke backed into the hall, and I peered around the doorframe, half-expecting to see the shadow standing there waiting.

Thankfully, it was just a client.

"For fuck's sake," I whispered, kneeling to mop up the spilled cleaner while Luke went to greet him. I decided on my hands and knees that I didn't have time—or the sanity—to worry about the stupid mirrors. Brad could do them when he got there, or not. I didn't care.

When I headed back up front, Luke was putting the grim reaper stencil on his client's ribcage, lining it up just right. I thought about hanging around to watch him get started—I'd always loved watching people get tattooed but never had the artistic ability to do them myself—but Lennon was out of class by now. She didn't work on Tuesdays, so I knew she'd probably be home.

I walked toward the door, but Luke called my name, stopping me in my tracks.

"Thanks for helping out today," he said, still looking a little worried. I couldn't blame him. I was probably acting fucking crazy. "Marcus is looking for a flash tattoo model tomorrow to get some practice in. Any chance you'd want to take the spot? Get some ink therapy?"

I hesitated, considering the offer. Typically, I was always down for fresh ink, I just hadn't been able to afford any new tattoos in a long time; piercings were much more affordable, considering I could do most of them myself. I only had two tattoos, angel wings across my shoulder blades from where I'd splurged on my eighteenth birthday, and a decapitated gummy bear on my calf. I was definitely overdue.

The fact that it was Marcus made me uncomfortable. I hadn't ever spoken to him much, but the few times we exchanged words were awkward. Something about him was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He wasn't the best tattoo artist—he'd come a long way in the time I'd known him—but flash pieces were simple.

Surely he wouldn't mess it up too bad, and if he did, it would be an easy cover-up later.

"Yeah," I finally said after a long second. "Why not?"

The corner of Luke's mouth lifted into a smirk. "Great. I'll let him know."