“Shall I speak with him?” Roth asks before taking another drink.
“Nah.” He raises his eyebrow quizzically, but I ignore the silent question.
“You want next?” Thane offers, holding up the tattoo gun.
“Can you get my back?” He nods, wiping away the excess ink on Roth’s arm. Thane’s been doing all our tattoos for so long, he knows each piece by memory, and none of us would trust anyone else to touch up the art on our skin. We could use the spelled ink that would withstand our accelerated healing, but Roth’s Runemaster said it could interfere with the illegal runes she etched into our skin. She’s the only one I’ve ever seen get away with openly disrespecting Roth, which means she’s either insane, or powerful enough to not fear the repercussions of his Wrath. I don’t want anything to do with her if I can help it.
Thane’s cleaning his station when I come out of the shower in just my briefs. “You got anything I can smoke?” I ask as he gets up and rifles through his storage case for new needles and ink.
“How fucked up do you wanna get?”
“I need quiet,” I say, tapping my forehead, “but no hangover.”
“I got you. Give me a minute.”
“Thanks man.” The leather couch is cool against my back and the fire warms my front, crackling as it dances in the carved marble fireplace. Roth examines his new ink in the mirror behind the bar cabinet before refilling his glass and pouring one for me. I take it gratefully before he sits across from me in his usual chair.
“Looks good.” I nod to the new ink on his arms.
“It’s excellent work, Thane. As always.” Thane’s ears redden at Roth’s praise and pulls out a silver case from his room, handing it to me before taking another for himself.
“Smoke this and wait thirty minutes. If it’s not working after that I’ll get you another.” He lights his blunt using his favorite lighter and Roth ignites a small flame on his fingertip before I can ask for it. I lean over and light it, the sweet smoke sinking into my lungs as I inhale deeply. Thane clears the ornate coffee table so I can lay down and sets up his station. It protests under my weight, but despite my size it doesn’t move.
“This one?” Thane taps the massive, intricate sword tattoo running down my spine, brushing over the etched rune hidden beneath. I grunt when his nail accidentally scratches the sensitive flesh. He looks over at me, silently asking if I’m still game.
“Tickles.” I grumble, and he scoffs, blunt hanging out the side of his mouth as he preps my skin.
“What’d you want to talk about?” I direct my question to Roth over my shoulder.
He checks his watch and sighs. “I’d expected Killian would be here by now, but we need to discuss our families, for one.”
“Do we have to?” Thane complains as the buzz of the tattoo gun starts up.
“Unfortunately. My father’s agreed to extend his deadline for the potion, given Drystan’s insistence that he needs more time.”
“Motherfucker,” Thane mutters. “What’d that cost?”
“Nothing I can’t pay,” he says, brushing off Thane’s concern. Which is bullshit. No matter how many times he comes back from his estate bruised and bloodied, or worse—face blank and eyes empty—he won’t let us take the hits for him.
“Roth, you can’t keep—” Thane starts, lifting the needle.
“I have it under control,” he interrupts sharply. Thane glares at him over my back, before returning to the tattoo. If he presses harder than necessary, I don’t blame him.
“Why’s he want it so badly?” I mumble, disassociating from the pain and drugs.
“He won’t say, and if I continue to ask he’ll start to wonder why I’m questioning him rather than complying. I’d rather not push him too far. At least not right now.” The firelight makes his long, black hair appear almost blue as he takes a long sip of his drink. “What I do know, however, is that he seems to be working alone. Cyrus approached me at the last Council meeting, asking questions. Safe to assume neither he nor Marcus are involved.”
My eyes narrow as I turn to face him. “Don’t kill my high, man.”
Thane scoffs, and Roth smirks. “If it’s any comfort, I humiliated him in front of the Council.”
“Please tell me my parents were there.”
“Your father turned a truly hideous shade of purple.” I laugh under my breath, disturbing the smokey haze around my head.
“Are you going to the mausoleum this weekend?”
I close my eyes, but he sees right through me. “They won’t take down the wards for me.”
