Chapter 6
The tattoo gun buzzed to life, the end digging into the air, warming up to drill into my flesh.
“I thought tattoos were reserved for the blood contracts…” I started, trailing off as my gaze roved over the dwarves and other supernatural beings hanging around the outskirts of the room—intricate markings curling out of their cuffs, their collars, sweeping up their necks.
They were practically covered from head to toe in tattoos.
“Seriously?” Irritation made my voice sharp. “You want me to brand myself? Can’t we just sign a piece of paper and call it a day? I won’t back out, I swear.”
“’Tis our custom.” The Wizard flexed his fingers, the wispy ink on his knuckles bending with the movement. “What’s te matter? Ye afraid of te ink gun, little Nephy?”
“No,” I said, before the insinuation took root and everyone found out how scared I was. My hands balled into fists. “Fine, then. Are you going to do it right here?”
Pushing off the serpentine armrests, he rose from his sleek onyx throne. “We’ll head to te parlor.”
With a flick of his chin, he gestured to the dark, mildewed passage in the corner, guarded by the massive troll. Great.
This time I didn’t flinch when the dwarves grabbed my arms, didn’t shout when they led me to the near-pitch-black tunnel and the troll waved me off with a sinister, stumpy smile. Didn’t fight when we trudged up a snaking, steady incline and reached the ground level.
The light from the parlor cut through the musty air, falling in shafts across the rocky path. My captors released their grip, the skin tender from being pulled and pinched and tossed around.
A single leather chair, bolted to the floor, awaited me in the middle of the room. Thin lines were scratched all over the material—I tried not to think of how they might have gotten there.
The artist prepared her workstation, needles of different lengths glistening in the soft orange light. Dyes, guns, herbs, body parts in jars, all sat atop the metal tray. I did not want, or need, to know what part of the ritual those were for.
“You giving me a tattoo or performing surgery?” I joked, attempting to shake some of the anxiety.
Shoulders tensing, the artist slowly craned her neck, snarling lips protruding between the thick strands of her braided, white beard. I withered at the look, effectively shut up, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
An iron door tempted me from the far side of the room. Through its porthole I could make out the flowered emerald wallpaper of what seemed to be some kind of hall—maybe making a run for it and finding Shanley was an option I really should have considered more.
A metal hand situated below the porthole rapped its silver claws against the door.
I blinked. Obviously, I was just seeing things.
That logic was quickly lost when it then scurried to the handle and with a crude gesture, turned the lock. My jaw dropped. Rude.
“Any thought as to what yer goin’ to get?” a voice asked. It was hardly a whisper, but nonetheless, my palm flattened against my chest.
A dwarf, much younger than the others, one I hadn’t seemed to have noticed, stood at my side. With a vinyl apron and an armload of supplies, he had to be the apprentice.
I cleared my throat, squeaking a bit. “Didn’t think I had a choice.”
“Ye won’t if ye don’t decide before ye get in that chair.” He kept his tone a touch lower as the others in the room only seemed to grow louder. “Otherwise Yudfren chooses for ye.”
I spared a glance at the artist, who was tinkering with the settings on her tattoo gun.
“And she doesn’t have the, uh—” the apprentice continued as his boss began to rattle the tool, “patience to find one ye like.”
“Thanks for the heads-up…”
“We’re ready for ye,” Yudfren bellowed, severing the chitchat.
My heart thundered in my ears, each beat slamming against my rib cage in rhythm with my shaky steps.
The eyes of the previous customers tracked me from their photos on the wall as I crossed the room. Hundreds of missions, memories, forever captured within the gallery of frames.
Most of the beings in the photos were smiling—an expression the outright opposite of whatever was happening on my face.
