Payable On Death: A Jax Rhodes Novel, Book One (The Jax Rhodes Series 1) (10 page)

I expected a
contract or a secret handshake or something. Not tattoos.

Thomas and I stood outside the small brick building which housed the studio. A red and black neon sign flashing
Pleasures of the Flesh
made the place look more like a den of iniquity as opposed to a place to get inked up.

"She likes to push the envelope," was Thomas's explanation when he noticed me eyeing the sign warily.

Once inside, surrounded by the traditional tattoo décor, my nerves and stomach settled down. Certifications for blood borne pathogens, business licenses, and multiple industry awards hung on the wall behind the reception area. Old school flash framed behind glass lined the walls, each piece accented by the track lighting on the ceiling. We sat down on the black leather couch and waited for Magdalena to call me back for my appointment.

It struck me as odd, sitting there next to a Seraphim on a sofa in a place called Pleasures of the Flesh, the faint buzz of the machine barely noticeable over the metal music blaring from the stereo, that this was how I was getting my first tattoo. I'd always wanted one, just never had the nerve to get it. Weird that it would take an angel and signing away yet another part of my life for it to happen.

A beautifully exotic woman in low cut jeans and black cowboy boots came out from the back. The white leather vest she wore for a top accentuated her dark hair and caramel colored skin. She pulled off a pair of black disposable gloves and tossed them into a hazard bin next to the entrance to the back of the studio. She escorted a gentleman out, giving him instructions on the at home care of his tattoo with a sample of Aquaphor to help ensure proper healing. I made a mental note of the dos and don'ts, even though I was sure she recited the rules for all of her clients.

"Come on back. I just need to set up. We'll be over there." Magdalena pointed to an old fashioned barber chair, completely refurbished with head and foot rest. "Excuse me, one sec. Hey, Kev, why don't you bounce after you're finished cleaning that station? Jax is my last appointment for the day. I'll close up when I'm done."

"You sure?" Kev, who rocked more tattoos than I'd seen on any one person and had enough facial piercings to trip up an airport metal detector, stopped cleaning the massage style table the last client had been tattooed on.

"Yeah, Jax and I go way back. We're just gonna catch up while I work on her and maybe grab a bite after." She motioned for me to have a seat while she set up her work station.

With a shrug, he sprayed more of the hospital grade soap and finished wiping everything down. He was out the door before she pulled out the stencil of my tattoo.

Magdalena showed the piece to Thomas, who nodded his approval, before showing it to me. The artwork was incredibly detailed. A medieval style Celtic cross, complete with all the intricate knot work, except instead of squared edges, each end came to a sharpened point, giving the overall effect of an ornate holy dagger.

"You ready for this?"

I knew she wasn't just talking about the tattoo. Magdalena knew exactly what the image meant and why I was there.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Well, stand up and let's get this stencil on so we can get started." She placed the stencil on the inside of my left forearm, explaining the significance of this particular tattoo being done on the side of the body associated with the heart.

After turning my arm half a dozen times to be sure everything lined up how she wanted, she sat me back down and fired up her machines. "Thomas, have a seat in the waiting area. You know I can't stand your hovering."

"You've done this before?" Thomas hadn't mentioned a team or any demon hunters before me.

She looked up, a crooked smile on her face. "Once or twice."

"I meant this particular design." I glanced at Tommy, the grimace on his face prominent, ruining his handsome features.

"I know what you meant." Magdalena never took her eyes off her work.

"There have been others over the years. My apologies, I should have told you." Tommy had the decency to actually look stricken.

"What happened to them?" The fact that I sat in Magdalena's chair said a lot more about their status than anything Tommy could have told me. "They're dead, aren't they?"

"Yes." He held up a hand to quiet my barrage of questions. "They weren't like you. Mortals, who could be killed without the Spear. It's been a long time since the powers that be have authorized a sanctioned hunter. You are the first Elioud to be inducted and, as a result, the benefits package was adjusted accordingly to ensure the highest likelihood of success. You recall the alternative, if you fell at the hands of our enemies without joining the Order?"

"The Order. Are there more hunters?" I closed my eyes when he shook his head. "You should have told me."

"Would it have changed anything if I had?"

"You still should have told me."

He walked out to the waiting area without saying another word.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him." Magdalena's words took me by surprise. "He wouldn't have brought you here if he was intentionally keeping secrets. He knows I like to talk when I work." Even with her head bowed over my arm, I could still make out the smile on her face.

And talk she did.

I listened as she explained how the inks were blessed by a holy man and extremely expensive and completely necessary for my piece. Her chatter was a welcome distraction from the discomfort of the outlining portion of the tattoo. Eventually, she sprayed my arm down with hospital grade green soap, wiping away the excess ink to reveal a glorious outline. She switched out her liner for a shader and prepared to go at my arm again.

Magdalena told me stories of the other hunters who bore the brand, brave enough to join the Order and face down demons. All without the level of immortality I'd been offered. At least a dozen men and women, all devout and willing to die for their cause because the only reward they expected was the one promised to all. Heaven.

Basically what I'd been doing before, although my motivation was a little different.

This battle raged for over a millennia and one hunter traveled the globe dispatching demons, trying to prevent the fall of man. Nephilim and their offspring joined the ranks, fighting to keep the prophecy from becoming reality.

That was a long time ago. Before the last of my father's kind, of my kind, fell into darkness, giving in to the wickedness that tainted us from the moment of our conception.

Which gave me an idea.

I wasn't sure if or when I'd have another opportunity for another appointment with Magdalena. And there was something I wanted to get. Something I wanted her to do. Because she would understand its symbolic significance and why I had to have it. I released the breath I'd been holding when she agreed to do it.

Every so often, Thomas called out from the front asking if everything was okay. We'd gone well beyond the expected time frame for my appointment. And every time she assured him we were fine. I continued to marvel over her work, over the dagger’s detail and three-dimensional effect, making it look as if you could pluck it from my arm long after she'd bandaged it and laid me out on the table for my next piece. She'd expressed concern over my ability to sit for that long, making me promise to tap out if I felt even the least bit faint.

The pain ebbed and flowed as she continued. Only once did it reach a point where I considered not continuing. Eventually, my body acclimated to the pain, my brain finding therapeutic purpose in it, allowing some of the anger and hurt to escape with the blood and plasma seeping from my body as the needles pierced my skin.

"All done." Magdalena sprayed my back, preparing for the final wipe down before taking me to the wall length mirror to look at it.

I bit back a yelp and resisted the urge to punch her in the face as she went at my back with paper towels soaked with green soap that felt more like eighty grit sandpaper. Holding on to my shirt to cover my front since I'd had to ditch my bra as well, we walked to the mirror. Magdalena gave me a hand mirror before turning me around to face her. I peered over my shoulder, gasping when I saw the masterpiece she'd completed. Tears streaked down my face. It was perfection, it was everything I'd hoped it would be.

"You like it." Magdalena clapped her hands together in delight before turning to get the gauze and medical tape. "You're going to need a different shirt. I think I've got something that will work in my bag." She shrugged, pointing to a rolling travel bag by her desk in the corner. “A girl's got to be prepared. You want to show Thomas before I wrap you up?"

I nodded, still too emotional to speak.

She grabbed a scrap of clothing that could be considered a top in only the technical sense. She helped slip the elastic waist of the opened-back shirt over my head, keeping it from rubbing against my tattoo and fastened the clasp for the straps around my neck. I could have done with a little more than the two pieces of loose satin covering my breasts. I felt like I was going to a dance club or possibly a strip club in Magdalena's top. Although I had to admit it was perfect—not a piece of fabric touched my back. The cool air felt amazing against my heated skin.

I walked out into the waiting area to show Thomas, his jaw hitting the floor when he saw me in the shirt. My cheeks warmed, rivaling the temperature of the sensitive, punctured skin on my back. I quickly spun around, unable to stand his intense gaze any longer.

"What do you think?"

"Perfection." His words hung heavy in the air, the double meaning not lost on me.

"Thanks."

Thomas cleared his throat. I felt his hand hovering over my back. "She did an amazing job."

"I can't believe how well she captured my vision. It's like she snatched it right out of my head."

"It suits you. Every drop of ink that went into it represents you beautifully."

I looked over my shoulder one more time before Magdalena covered it up.

Feather and leather alike.

Two wings seemed to burst from my shoulder blades. One covered in luxurious feathers, representing one half of my Elioud origins. One leathery bat-like wing to represent the other. The duology of light and dark, reminding me I am as powerful as I am wicked, but I and I alone make the choice of how to wield that power.

I felt closer to my mother, carrying a physical representation of her final words to me on my back. I never had the chance to get to know her. Now she'd always be with me.

Magdalena walked us out with a final review of my at home care regiment and my promise to keep in touch. She switched off the neon sign and locked the door behind us. I thought I caught a glimpse of Dane standing across the street in the mirrored window but when I turned around the street was empty.

"Everything alright?" Thomas opened the passenger side door of his car, waiting for me to get inside.

"Yeah, sure." I knew how he felt about the Sin Eater. Alerting him to the possibility of Dane reaching out to me or my over active imagination where he was concerned would just piss him off. Besides, I'd said all I needed to say to Dane.

"Maybe I'll just lay down on the back seat." The idea of sitting back against the leather seats wasn't all that appealing. I opened the right rear passenger door and crawled across the bench seat, easing down onto my stomach with my right arm draped over the side.

"Thankfully, we don't have far to go." Tommy shut the door and walked around the back of the car to the driver's side.

"Where are we headed," I asked once he got situated behind the wheel and backed out of the parking lot. "Please say we're headed home. I'm too sore to do any training and definitely in the wrong top."

"I rather like that top."

Neither of us said anything thing else, an awkward silence filling the car for the rest of the drive. Since his brother had not so subtly mentioned his feelings for me, Thomas hadn't been shy about dropping hints. I appreciated the fact that since he'd exposed himself as an angel he'd remained in his true form. Part of me would have appreciated it even more if he'd exposed other parts of himself because the man was gorgeous, only I hadn't fully reconciled Tommy with Thomas.

And I couldn't stop thinking about Dane. Mostly about how I wished I'd hit him with a closed fist instead of an open handed bitch slap. Beyond that, beyond the hurt and anger and disappointment, was the undeniable attraction and the stupid feelings I still had for him. I didn't want to feel anything. For anybody.

Feeling sucked.

Being face down on the back seat impaired my sense of direction, so I was surprised to see we were back in Bolton Hill when the car stopped.

"When I said home, I was referring to my apartment."

"This is your home." Thomas opened the car door so I could slide out of the back.

"No, this is your place." I turned to face him when I finally got out of the car. "I live in a crappy little apartment in Fells."

"You can't go back there. Or your old life." Thomas headed toward his apartment building.

"You never said anything about that. Jesus, when am I going to learn to read the fine print? You can't expect me to just walk away from my life, Tommy."