CHAPTER 15

With morning came a whole new world of horrors. The police had set up a perimeter as Dan suggested, but they tried to enter the building several times during the night. A total of thirty officers were missing, not just from Dan’s precinct, but from several throughout Chicago, as they’d come to assist. Not every officer was in the know about the supernatural world and went in unawares, while those who did know, well, they just assumed they were superior to the creatures. Did they not read or watch movies, at the very least?

I went to work, and Dan drove to the nightclub. He never mentioned me going, and that was fine with me. I didn’t want to deal with vampires if I didn’t have to. I did, however, arrange for all the equipment Stanley requested, right down to the flamethrowers. Not easy to find, but Evan had a connection that got them for us. I think, all in all, everything cost me around thirty grand, but if it means lives saved, I don’t care.

“What do you think?” I ask Bricker, a member of the Saints MC who’d commissioned me to do some artwork for his back. Blade told me he got the name Bricker because he beat a man to death with a brick. Messy, but it’ll get the job done.

He looks over the drawing and smiles, a missing tooth making him appear almost maniacal. The art he wanted is a skull with a large crown on the top, snakes weaving in and out of the skull’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Not too original, but I did the best I could with the parameters he set for me. I do tend to make my art darker, so the entire piece is drawn in such a way as to appear almost alive and burning with evil.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “More than I hoped for when I said I wanted it to look menacing.”

“I’m not sure how menacing it’ll be if it’s hiding under your kuttes.”

He laughs. “When it needs to be seen, it will be seen.”

I shake my head. Why are men in MCs so…? I’m not sure what the word is, but they’re something.

“Can you pencil me in sooner rather than later for RJ or Carson, please?”

“Preference?”

“RJ. He tends to do the black-and-white ink better than Carson. If I was going for color, I’d go with Carson.”

Nodding, I look through the schedule. RJ is booked until next week. “I can get you in next Thursday at three. He’s booked solid until then.”

“Da…” He cuts himself off and side-eyes my swear jar. “Nothing sooner?”

“Nope, but you can call in every day, and we’ll check to see if anyone cancels.”

“Bah. No one cancels in this shop. It’s the best one in Chicago.”

RJ would be pleased to hear that.

The doorbell tinkles, and I look up to see a blond man who has to be at least six-foot-seven or -eight duck down as he enters the shop. His head almost touches the ceiling. Hockey player, maybe? They all seem to be about this height, give or take. Bright green eyes find mine, and I know in a heartbeat this is no hockey player. He’s a vampire. The Necromancer traits I picked up from Sadie whisper to me, and his age hits my tongue. I roll it around, and within seconds, I know he’s older than three hundred, but not quite five hundred yet. I roll it around a little more, and the number comes to me. He’s four hundred and two years old.

“Afternoon.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Bricker looks him up and down, not liking what he’s seeing any more than I do. Instead of moving out of the way, he comes around the counter, closer to me. Brick is a human, and he will stand no chance against this creature if he plans on foul play.

“Afternoon.” I nod to him. “Can I help you?”

“I’m told that this shop is the best place to come in Chicago. I did try that place on the south side, but they were unable to do what I wanted.”

“And what is it you want?”

His eyes shift to Bricker. “That is between me and the owner.”

“Sure.” I pick up the phone and dial RJ’s office phone. He picks up on the first ring.

“I’m trying to eat lunch, Rach.”

“You have a customer out here you should speak with.”

He sighs heavily. “This is my favorite Reuben.”

“Tough.”

“Girl…this better be worth my lunch.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far.” He and I share a love of food.

It’s not long before he comes out of the back, his dark hair curling around his ears. The diamond stud in his nose glints as he comes closer. Like me, he understands exactly who this is. He’s got a little supernatural blood in him, but I’m not sure exactly what. It does, however, make him sensitive to recognizing other Supernaturals.

“RJ, this gentleman would like to talk to you.”

“Hey, man.” RJ doesn’t move to shake his hand. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“I hadn’t given it yet. I am Asher. I’m told you have a unique talent I require.”

RJ quirks a brow. “Depends on what you want.”

“Hey, Bricker, could you give us a bit? I’ve got you scheduled, and like I said, call back through the week, and if there’s a cancellation, we’ll get you in sooner.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. We’ll be fine.”

We all watch Bricker leave.

“What is it that you require?”

“I am told that you can ink a vampire’s skin and have the ink stay.”

Vampires are weird. They’re frozen in time, and when they try to tattoo their skin, the ink usually bleeds out seconds after it’s applied. It’s been like that since the beginning, or so I was told. RJ’s spelled ink is different. It stays.

“That particular ink isn’t just spelled. It’s bound with a demon’s curse, and it can interact with a vampire’s hunger, making it worse, as it feeds on the darkness inside.”

Now, I didn’t know that.

“It’s happened often?”

“More so with the newborns. Older vampires are better at control.”

“I’ve never heard of this, but you have this ink in supply and can do the tattoo?”

RJ nods, inching toward me. “I can. You need to book an appointment with Rachel here.”

“Ah, Mrs. Crane. I was told you do the artwork for the tattoos. I saw some of your work earlier when I was speaking with Gloria. It’s quite dark, but achingly beautiful as well.”

“She’s the best artist I’ve ever met.”

I don’t know if RJ knows who Gloria is or not, since he didn’t react to the name. He might just assume it’s someone who requested a commission from me.

“I think we’ll be requiring your services, then.”

“Just book…”

Asher shakes his head. “No. We will not be coming here. It’s not safe enough. You will come to us.”

“I don’t think so.” I move out from behind the counter. “We don’t go places with strangers, especially supernatural strangers. Our shop is the safest place in the city.”

“Really?” He arches a brow. “Were you and your coworker not attacked just a while ago?”

It’s my turn to smile. “We weren’t attacked inside the shop, now, were we? People, and Supes, know better.”

“Still, I don’t think we’ll be coming here.”

“Then you won’t be getting inked.”

“I think that is the owner’s decision to make.”

“Don’t look him in the eyes.”

RJ looks away from him and to me. “I’m on dead man’s blood. Given who we ink, I take every precaution.”

“He’s four hundred and two years old. It won’t be as effective against mind control. It’ll keep him from feasting on you, but if you don’t have a strong will, he could potentially take control of your mind.”

RJ stares at me and finally nods.

“You know your lore.”

“Yeah, I do. When you’re taken hostage and tortured both mentally and physically by a psychotic vampire, you tend to do that.”

“Ah, yes, Kristoff. How is he these days?”

“Suffering.”

Another smile graces Asher’s lips. “You sound so full of joy when you say that.”

“Because I am. He deserves everything he gets for all the women he tortured and killed.”

“Murder for the joy of murder has never been something I enjoy. Taking a life should have a purpose, and if it doesn’t, leave them be. You can feed without killing.”

“Blood banks,” RJ says, staring at his shoes.

Asher snorts. “That is like asking you to drink diet soda.”

RJ’s face screws up.

“Exactly.” Asher’s smile turns feral. “Why do that if you don’t have to?”

“To spare someone the trauma of being fed from?”

“It doesn’t have to be traumatizing, Mrs. Crane. It can be quite enjoyable.”

“No, thanks.”

He smiles again. “We digress from my main purpose in acquiring your skills for my brethren. We don’t trust this shop any more than you trust coming to us. So, what do we do?”

I slap at my neck as there’s a sharp sting, very much like a bug bite. Within seconds, my vision blurs.

“Wha…”

“Rachel?” RJ’s voice is far away. “What did you do?”

“She’ll be fine,” Asher assures him. “We just need you to come with us. I am serious about the tattoos, but her husband and his merry little band of Hunters are putting our people at risk. She’s our bargaining chip.”

“I’m not…” My words slur, and I fall to my knees, my head spinning. Bile crawls up my throat. I catch a glance of someone coming out of the back carrying a small gun.

Had to be some kind of tranquilizer dart.

“Collect your ink and your needles. You might as well be useful while we wait out this standoff.”

Those are the last words I hear before I black out.