Stained (6 page)

It was early. The sky started to tint pink and orange against the hills. In the growing light, he made the short hike to the crime scene. He crossed more police tape. This time he was surprised to see that someone had tampered with the site. An altar covered with a white cloth, stones, black feathers, a bowl of water, and a candle was set up. He had caught someone in the act of something. There was fresh blood splashed across the ground.

Looking around, Sé drew his gun. He remembered the bloated corpse, green-tinged, without its head. The slice would have had to have been quick, to decapitate so cleanly. They had been lucky to realize that part of the tattoo was missing. Sé was still investigating the altar when the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He turned and felt a heavy blow to his head. Then nothing else.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Oh Gods and Goddesses in the light above, send me your protection with words of love. Lend me your power to use for good, in protecting myself, and the ones I love. As I will so mote it be, with no harm come back to me…

Thorn and Raven rose with the stars, and she shuffled into the shower. When she was dressed in a mini-dress with a zombie on the front, leather choker, and Mary Jane’s, she went into the living room to change Raven’s water dish.

“Who’s a pretty bird?”

“Aren’t I supposed to say that?” she asked Raven.

“Dressing for Mr. Trouble are we, my witchling?”

“No, I’m not. He probably likes nice dresses and heels.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ll tell you who Mr. Trouble is,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Heard that,” Raven cawed. Thorn laughed.

Michael and Isaiah were working tonight. They filled in for the girls when they needed a night off. Michael was a student at the Academy of Art Institute in San Francisco with an eclectic way of dressing. He was a good pair with Isaiah who had been inking for twenty years. The girls and Gérard were taking some much-needed time off. Jason was up front enjoying a coffee. He eyed Thorn appreciatively. Thorn was starting to get uncomfortable with Jason’s subtle new behavior. First the unsolicited picture-taking and now the way he looked at her. An excellent artist, he would be an asset to the shop, but he was beginning to unnerve her.

Sunday night, and the shop was relatively quiet. A few people milled around, and her first customer hadn’t arrived yet.

“Love the dress,” Jason smirked, like he knew something she didn’t. Thorn didn’t have time for this crap.

“Thanks,” Thorn said shortly. Turning to the others, she said, “Raven thinks I’m putting on a show.”

“Silly bird,” Isaiah said.

“Silly people,” Raven cawed. Everyone laughed uneasily. Thorn had to remind the bird to keep his intelligence to himself, except around her, but he was proud and she was sure he had been insulted at being called silly. Proud bird. Isaiah soon forgot his uneasiness and went back to his work, his dreads back tied back in a scrunchie to keep it out of his eyes. He had on one of his famous band tees. He must have been to every concert in the Bay Area in the last twenty years.

“How did the day crew do?” Thorn asked Jason.

“Fab as always. The money and receipts are in the safe.”

“Great, I have to deliver it to my accountant tomorrow. How are your classes coming along?” she asked him, trying to keep things on a professional basis.

“Really well, I think by the end of the year I’ll be set to intern.”

“We’ll be ready for you when you’re ready for that.”

She looked up as soon as she recognized Sé’s scent, mint and sandalwood. Tonight, though, he wore jeans and a torso-hugging tee shirt under a leather jacket. She noticed a bike parked in front of the store.

“We have to stop meeting like this, Sé,” she said, a bit more seductively than she intended to. Where did that come from? A slow smile made the laugh lines crinkle around his eyes.

“I’ve come to ask a favor,” he said.

“Sure, if it’s in my power.” Both of them understood what she meant.

“I’d like to make an appointment to get a tattoo and I’d like you to do it. I know you’re booked up. I hoped maybe you’d have a cancellation?”

“Can you come back at midnight? We close then and I’ll have time.”

“Great,” he said. Thanks for squeezing me in.”

“Not a problem,” Thorn said. Her staff stared, then quickly went back to their jobs when Sé left. Thorn had never taken on a client the same night. Her next customer had arrived while she was talking to Sé, so she got her seated and started the ritual of preparing her instruments. The woman wanted a memorial tattoo for her daughter who had died of AIDS. Thorn inked a realistic picture of the woman’s daughter onto the woman’s upper arm with her daughter’s name underneath. The tattoo took three hours, and she only had one other customer that night before she closed.

Sé was right on time. He browsed around the shop waiting for everyone to leave. Michael and Isaiah snuck looks at him. Sé acknowledged them and then ignored their stares. Jason just glared. What was that all about? Thorn was getting sick and tired of Jason’s attitude. She liked her privacy.

When everyone finally left, she motioned for Sé to have a seat in her custom-made chair. The basic design was based on a barber’s chair. She could raise or lower it if she wanted, and the client could also sit in it facing forward or backward. It was covered in black leather to make sure that nothing would show on it.

“How was your day?” she asked him, trying to set him at ease. He stood awkwardly and his muscles were tight, unusual for the confident detective.

“I’ve had better. Someone snuck up behind me and knocked me out this morning. I was at one of the crime scenes. Took me two hours to wake up.” He laughed about it, but it was an uneasy laugh.

“Oh Goddess, did you see a doctor? Do you have a concussion? Would you like me to work a healing spell over it?”

“I haven’t had a healing spell since I was twelve and jumped out of my mamó’s tree.” He laughed again—this time his eyes lit up.

“Let me see where you’re hurt.”

Sé turned and pointed to the back of his head. Thorn motioned for him to sit down in her chair. She carefully moved his hair back until she saw an ugly lump.

Without thinking she reached into herself and pulled energy out and enveloped Sé with it, focusing on the injury. She chanted briefly as she gently put her hand over the wound. She felt him wince. She poured more of her violet power into the healing and let it resonate in him. Soon she felt him relax, and the muscles in his shoulders lowered. She smiled. The healing was working. She pulled her energy back and regretted having to take her hands away from him.

“Thanks, Thorn.” He reached up and touched the spot tenderly. “It feels much better.”

“You’re welcome. What happened before you were knocked out?”

“I was going to ask you about it. I came across someone’s altar. A candle was still burning. Stones, a bowl of water, and feathers. Fresh blood covered a white altar cloth.” He shrugged. “While I was looking around I felt like I was being watched and started to turn around but got knocked out instead. Might have saved my life because it wasn’t a solid hit.”

“What happened when you came to?”

“Everything was gone except for some of the feathers and the blood stains. I took some pictures and filed a report.”

“Do you think it’s related to the murder?”

Sé shrugged again. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Not sure,” she said. “But I think what you’re describing is a voodoo altar. A death scene would be a powerful place to put one and do a spell. It sounds like you got there just at the end of it. The blood was most likely from a sacrifice. Probably chicken from the sounds of it.”

“Just what we need, voodoo mixed in with all of this. Do you think that’s our killer?”

“No, black voodoo priests or priestesses would have used Willow and Richard as sacrifices in a spell and would have done it more privately.” She turned back from her preparations and looked him in the eye. “They would have killed you outright today, too. I think they just didn’t want you knowing who they were.”

“Well, they got their wish. I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t, voodoo can be a nasty practice if it’s using death energy. It can be benign. But this doesn’t sound that way. You were lucky to get out of there in one piece.”

“I didn’t come to here to lay this on your doorstep,” Sé said sheepishly.

“What kind of ink do you want?” she asked him, smiling. Sé looked relieved to shift the focus off his incident and back onto his tattoo.

“I’ve already got a raven on my shoulder blade, but I was thinking of something Celtic with a talisman in it,” he said.

“So you’re not a virgin?” She smirked at him. She weighed the risk. Two of her clients, with talismans, had been killed recently. But Sé didn’t work magick. “Take your shirt off. Let’s see your other work.”

He grinned and obliged her. She recognized the artist. The raven was done nicely in black and grey scale. Very realistic, and sharp. Her pulse raced as she surveyed his fine body, sculpted, strong, and muscled. He had a small dimpled scar on the opposite shoulder from his tattoo. A bullet hole. He’d seen some action. She touched it lightly and he shivered but didn’t say anything. Her skin felt hot where it had touched him and the rest of her body was heating up in response.

“How about putting it on your upper arm? If we do it high enough, it will be covered by a uniform. Do you have the same regulations as a patrolman?”

“We’re supposed to. The force is getting more and more lax about it these days. But that spot suits me. A Celtic knot?”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking. It’ll be ideal for weaving in the talismans. What kind did you want?”

“Just protection.”

“Are you sure? No love or wealth, strength or justice?”

“You could do a double protection. I’m partial to staying alive,” he said, half joking. A laugh rumbled out of his broad hair-covered chest.

“Let’s get started then. I need to chant while I do your ink so I’m sorry I won’t be very talkative.”

“That’s okay,” he said, as he met her eyes. “I find it peaceful. The chanting takes me back to my childhood. Having a beautiful woman doing the work doesn’t hurt.” She had to look away from him but she smiled all the same, tingling to her toes.

“Trouble,” Raven said.

“Shhh, you,” Thorn said. Sé barked out a laugh.

Thorn put on some gloves and prepped his skin. She set up her tray and got out her special inks. She pulled her chair up close to him to begin. The electricity between them was palpable.

When Thorn started to apply the ink, Sé sighed. She remembered the feel of his hair and forced herself to focus. She began to pierce and wipe, pierce and wipe, and slowly the image took shape. While she worked she chanted. The energy flowed from her to Sé and his breathing slowed down as it settled into him. The air soon was thick with magick and their pheromones. Raven bristled and cawed softly. Blue eyes met violet ones.

Thorn wound protection in and out of the knot every way she could think of. She used old magick, Irish magick. She used part of herself in the spelling. Gave herself willingly. When she was done it was alive with power and ancestral strength. They both could feel it.

Sé stretched and Thorn handed a mirror to him so he could look at it. He glanced at it and then returned the mirror to her. When she turned to him, he put his hand under her chin and lifted it so he could look in her eyes again.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. She’d been caught off guard by his touch. His skin was so warm, his hands rough yet gentle. He sent a flurry of emotion through her. He had a hungry expression and he started to lean into her like he was going to kiss her, but then thought better of it at the last minute. Thorn had been holding her breath and let it out slowly. She quickly put a bandage on his arm before she could think more about that almost kiss.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, clearing his throat. He reached for his tee shirt and eased it over the new ink.

“On the house. Clear my name and we’ll call it even.”

“Thorn, I’m not one of those cops who go around asking for free stuff or special favors. I probably crossed the line, having you ink me while you were under investigation. Besides, I know how much energy goes into your spells. I need to repay that.”

“No, really, I’m giving it to you. It’s my gift.”

“Not now, but when this is over, how about you let me take you to dinner.”

“How about drinks instead?”

“What, you don’t eat?”

“Let’s start with drinks. I like to know how the restaurant handles their food,” Thorn said.

“Okay, drinks at Jupiter, first night I’m off after your name is cleared.”

“The microbrew on Shattuck?”

“Yeah, it’s great inside. Copper all over the walls.”

“I’ll have to make sure I have a night free too.”

“I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“Bye and be careful.”

Thorn locked up behind him. His bike roared as he turned it on, then he surged down the street. He might be a cop but he knew how to ride that machine. He just might have potential. She spun around, making her dress flare out. The first thing she saw was Raven’s all-knowing look.