Lorde slunk out from under the table and stood behind Lu, her tail wagging.
“Can you take her out for a bit?” Lu asked. “Let her run around before dinner?”
I pushed away from the table and finished off the tea. “C’mon, girl, let’s stretch our legs.”
It took a couple snaps to turn Lorde’s attention away from the possibility of snacks. She followed me out into the back yard.
The heat was thickening now that afternoon was easing into evening. Soon the world would hold its breath for the exhale of night.
I leaned on the porch rail, watching Lord sniff around at the dusty grass, slowly making her way toward the small thicket of trees.
Ricky strolled around the side of the building, the tattoos on her arms flickering with magic. She joined me on the porch.
“Your ghost out there?”
“He doesn’t belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” Val groused from where he’d appeared, leaning against the same post Ricky had been standing at when we first arrived.
“You’re Cupid’s, now,” I reminded him. “Bound to a god.”
“Bound isn’t the same as belonging.”
“He’s here,” I said to Ricky.
“So I gathered. All right now. Let’s see if this does the trick.” She tugged a fountain pen out of her back pocket and licked the tip of it. I glanced at Lorde who was closing in on the trees, her ears perked up, tail curled high. She’d slowed, having heard some critter out in the long grass.
A rising glow turned my attention back to Ricky. She pressed the nib of the fountain pen on the inside of her forearm, nearer the elbow than the wrist, into the center of a tattoo of a moth. The moth flared bright purple, little licks of black sparking through it. When she lifted the pen, the magic lifted with it, fluttering with tiny lavender wings.
She rolled her arm, and the magic stretched and grew into a thick, purple strand that hung suspended. She undid two buttons on her shirt, revealing a tightly packed collage of ink beneath her collarbones. Each picture seemed to rise and fall, shifting borders to overlay or retreat behind the others like cards being shuffled.
It was the magic of this place she always carried with her, yes, but it was also the magic of this woman.
Crossroads were not common in the world. Those few who existed were tied to a specific place and were receptacles of wild magic that gathered like leaves against the edges of their lands. Only a Crossroads could hold, sort, and use that mix of powers that would destroy any other magic worker. It made them uniquely suited to hold a neutral ground for the supernaturals of the world. Made them uniquely suited to interact and offer sanctuary.
A gnarled tree inked on the right side of her chest seemed full of birds, then flowers, then animals, then stars as the tattoo flowed through the seasons. She pressed the pen nib to its roots which wrapped around the moon.
With a quick stroke and a whispered word, she drew the purple line through it, then up and across to behind her ear where an old-fashioned TV set—spindly legs, rounded screen, and metal antenna—was inked.
The TV flared with static then cleared to blue sky.
“You got those set up like a dot-to-dot?” I asked.
Ricky tossed me a smile, and there was a light in her eyes that was not exactly sane. “You could say that. What’s his name?”
“Valentine.”
“Valentine, let me see you. Let me hear you.”
Val lifted a couple fingers from where he had his arms crossed over his chest. “Yo. I’m right here.”
Ricky shifted her gaze, following Val’s voice. “Yup. There you are.” Purple flowed bright through her tattoos, then faded. “Valentine, you are seen.”
“Oh, so you’re what? A medium now? Big fucking deal.”
“If I were a medium I’d need inner sight to see you. Easier just to tune you in with magic.” Her eyes flared purple.
Val stilled, and if a ghost breathed, he wasn’t doing that. His wolf, who had been sitting beside him paced forward, putting itself between Val and Ricky, a low snarl rolling from its chest.
