“Yes. I chose this one.” I show her the design.
“That’s a strong one.” She nods. “This way. Where do you want it?”
“My hip, I think. How long does it take?”
“How big do you want it?”
I hold my fingers about three inches apart. “Like this?”
“Any normal shop, with a tattoo of this complexity, you’d be looking at three to five hours. But this ain’t a normal shop, honey. You’ll be out of here in an hour max.”
“What makes this place different?”
She stares at me with those pale-green gecko eyes until I think she must have gone into some kind of trance. I have to resist snapping my fingers in front of her face.
“This way,” she says abruptly, heading into the other section of the shop.
Once we’re settled in a small back room, she doesn’t speakto me again beyond basic instructions. The pain sucks, but compared to what I’ve endured since my banshee side woke up, it’s nothing. I busy myself with my phone to keep my mind off the discomfort. Dad hasn’t responded to my text. I’m sure he went to church this morning—he never misses. Did he talk to Edgar or Isabella there? Did they mention that after I ran off, “Cliff” went with me? They don’t know he’s a Lockwood, and neither does Dad, but if he knows a guy was with me, he’ll have questions.
I debate texting him to see if Edgar told him anything, but I decide silence is best.
“Done,” says Morgana at last.
“You’re a Lockwood, too?” I ask as she puts away her tools.
“Yes.”
“Cool.” I pucker my lips and tug my shorts back up, settling them gingerly into place over the tattoo while I try to come up with a question that won’t sound super awkward.What kind of supernatural is your family? Are you the monsters my dad has always claimed you were? What sort of magic do you practice, if any?
She hands me a sheet on tattoo aftercare, and I suddenly realize I should tip her. My bag is out in Heathcliff’s truck.
“I’ll get my purse,” I say as we walk back out to the front room.
“I already took care of It.” Heathcliff is standing by the counter. “Can I see it?”
I pull down the waistband of my shorts and show him the reddened mark. He lifts his T-shirt and shows me the matching tattoo on his left side, along the slanted V muscle of his abdomen.
“Damn, that’s hot,” I admit aloud.
Bean chuckles. “All right, you two. Have fun today.”
“Remember what I said,” Heathcliff replies with a warning look.
Bean holds up a wad of cash between two fingers. “Not a word to Hindley. We swear, don’t we, Morgana?”
Morgana drifts vaguely into the back without answering.
Once Heathcliff and I are outside in the parking lot, I touch his arm. “I’ll pay you back.”
“No.”
“Money’s tight for both of us. I don’t want you to carry that cost yourself. And you paid for the motel—”
“It’s fine. I have some money coming in soon.”
“The guy you were meeting with at Moretti’s?”
He throws me a surprised glance, approval and caution in his eyes. “You’re quick.”
