“Or it was resignation.” Bel shrugged, breaking the spell trapping her and her partner. “Sometimes when people give up, they stop fighting. Maybe these girls gave up. Maybe they knew they were never getting out alive.”
“I’m sorry.”Olivia broke the long silence as they pulled into Neptune’s Ink’s parking lot. She hadn’t uttered a single word the entire drive, refusing to even look at Bel, but now that they’d arrived at their destination, it seemed she’d found her voice. “I didn’t know. I mean, of course, I knew. I saw the chain in Abel’s basement, but you’ve never talked about it. I never knew what those weeks were really like for you.”
Bel turned off the ignition and leaned back in her seat to stare at the shop waiting for them. “How was I supposed to tell you about it?” she finally asked. “How was I supposed to tell you that some man cut the clothes from my body and dressed me in his dead mother’s nightgowns? It didn’t matter that he never physically assaulted me. He saw me. He drugged me. I was a pet forced to acknowledge him, so I played his game. I pretended to care. I held his hand, all the while praying that the man I was actually falling in love with would find me in time. And then when I got free, Eamon was there within seconds. He caught me as I fled the house. If I had just waited ten minutes, he would’ve ripped that solid door off its hinges and snapped Abel’s neck, but how was I supposed to tell you that the only reason I feel safe these days is because I sleep with a monster? A monsteryou blame me for.” She finally met her partner’s gaze. “I wasn’t ready to talk to you about it right away. You were still a stranger when that kidnapping happened, and by the time we grew close enough to share our traumas, yet another crazed man took me, and you decided I wasn’t worth the forgiveness. So tell me, how was I supposed to tell you that, to escape Blaubart, I pretended to be Eamon? That I sank my teeth into another human’s flesh to get him off me? I had to run down a frozen mountain with his blood dried to my chin. How was I supposed to share the darkest times in my life with you when you hate the person I need to survive them? When you hate me for choosing the man who always stands between me and death? I’ve had nightmares ever since I got these scars. The monsters in my dreams change, but the pain is real. I wake up terrified all the time. The cold scares me. This case scares me. Everything scares me, but how could I tell you when you made it clear that you didn’t have my back? I couldn’t trust you with the hell I endured because you wouldn’t trust me. So of course, I didn’t share what happened with you. I couldn’t.”
The women fell silent, and Olivia stared out the window for so long that Bel gave up hope she’d answer and reached for the door handle.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia whispered again. “I really am.”
“Yeah.” Bel swiped a tear from her eye before her partner spotted it. “We should get going. It’s not a quick drive home.”
Olivia nodded, and the detectives locked the SUV behind them and strode through the doors of the tattoo shop. Gothic décor greeted them, the elegance and extravagance a stark contrast to Thing-A-Ma Bob’s, and it reminded Bel of the style she’d expected her ancient boyfriend to fill his crumbling mansion with had he not been designing the home for her.
“Welcome to Neptune’s Ink,” an incredibly tattooed version of their friend Violet said from the front desk. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Detective Isobel—” she froze, her name dying on her tongue, and by the rigid stance of the woman beside her, Olivia saw it too. It hung prominently on display, impossible to miss in its morbidity, and its lifelike appearance was so realistic that Bel recoiled from the evil wafting off it.
For there, hanging in Neptune ‘sInk’s reception for the world to see, was an incredibly detailed skeleton of a mermaid that bore an eerie resemblance to the killer’s chicken wire victims.
“Bel.”Olivia grabbed her hand and tugged, the movement finally pulling Bel’s focus from the grotesque art swimming through the nothingness above them. “Look.”
“I am looking,” she whispered.
“No.” Olivia tugged again, and this time, Bel followed her lead, suddenly aware that her partner was still holding her hand. “The shop. Look at it.”
Bel tore her eyes away from the dead mermaid only to be swallowed whole by Neptune’s Ink’s décor. By the fantasy and the morbidity. By the black paint and the heavy-handed nautical theme. But most of all by the mermaids. And not the mythical creatures that little girls flocked to. The grotesque monsters that haunted sailors’ nightmares. Sirens who could tear flesh frombones, who could sink ships and drown their passengers. The kind that inspired men to drag young women to the depths and lock their mutilated bodies in eternal glass.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist repeated, leaning over the front desk to reclaim the disturbed detectives’ attention.
“Yes.” Bel mentally shook herself free from her shock and offered the woman her credentials. “I’m Detective Isobel Emerson, and this is my partner, Olivia Gold. Is your shop owner here today?”
“Yes, but Ursa is incredibly busy,” the receptionist said. “Can I ask what this is about?”
“Murder,” Olivia blurted without finesse.
“Oh, I…” The receptionist released an awkward laugh, her face paling when she realized the detective wasn’t joking. “I’ll go get her.”
“You do that,” Olivia called to her fleeing back. “Would the killer really be this obvious?” She directed her whisper at Bel.
“Until a few days ago, his mermaids didn’t exist to the world,” Bel said. “He was the only one who knew what that skeleton swimming above us meant. His daily reminder of the secrets he kept below the surface.”
“This shop creeps me out.”
“It’s certainly a vibe,” Bel said as a woman who was more tattoo than flesh strode toward them. Draped in all black, her unorthodox appearance screamed of money, and by the way she settled before the detectives, she’d clearly earned the authority rippling through her.
“I’m Ursa, the owner and head artist of Neptune’s Ink,” she greeted. “Is there a problem, officers?”
“Is there somewhere private where we can speak?” Bel asked.
“My office.” The woman twisted on her heels without a backward glance, her ego summoning the detectives to follow her.
“Bel.” Olivia leaned closer so that their guide wouldn’t overhear, and her urgency knocked her into Bel’s back.
“I know. I see them,” she whispered. Ursa’s plethora of blackwork mermaid tattoos was the first thing she’d noticed about the woman, and like the skeleton above the receptionist, the designs were unsettlingly dark.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Ursa asked, gesturing to the ornate black couch in front of her desk in a decidedly demanding movement.
“No thank you,” Bel answered.
