Page 13

12

Spitting Llamas

Four hours, ten stores, and a full back seat later, and the “short” errand run Harry offered to do for Nora was finally coming to a close. Not that she minded. An attempt to use her descry magic to tidy up and organize the cluttered attic ended up doing the opposite.

Like what happened at Elodie’s gym space, things had started fine, and then wham, bam, kapow. Shit flew, dropped, and exploded. Frustrated and in desperate need of a breather, Harry had volunteered her errand services after dropping Grace off at the pack ranch for more manure shoveling meditation.

She’d learned a long time ago not to ask questions of Nora when it came to her shopping lists, and as such, Harry had been on a mission to acquire everything from breadcrumbs to a climbing harness. In the bottom of her reusable bag, she now toted around a subscription box from Marie’s bakery. Something in the older demon’s eyes told her that it wasn’t filled with Cinna-Boobs or Erection éclairs and no way in hell was she brave enough to open the box and find out.

Harry now opened the door to Once Upon a Tattoo, and was immediately regaled with memories of the space once being an old bank. Brick and stone complemented the industrial, antique feel, and yet somehow made the large waiting room cozy and inviting in shades of steel, blacks, and reds. Leather sofas and glass tables gave off a coffeehouse vibe, along with the framed artwork decorating each wall.

Harry recognized Lenny’s signature style every place she looked. Funky. Chic. And fun.

Maddox, standing behind the lone counter, glanced up and threw her a smile when she approached. “My day just got infinitely better. What brings you to this end of the boulevard?”

“Errands.” She glanced around. “I’ve been back for how long now and haven’t stopped by yet. This place is amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s working out really well. With my business sense and Lenny’s talent, it’s a match made in tattoo heaven.”

Loud arguing sounded from the back rooms a second before a furious-looking vampire stormed out, cutting a hard glare to Maddox. “I’m not paying for this shit.”

Maddox didn’t seem phased. “Actually, my friend, you are. You did. Two days ago when you got the tattoo placed. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Why the fuck should I pay for this?” He ripped open his buttoned shirt, displaying what looked to be a spitting llama with wild eyes and flaring nostrils. “What the fuck does this mean? Not only is it there at all, but your seer can’t seem to tell me why ! Now you’re telling me I can’t have a refund?”

“Dude, you signed the disclaimer. Did you read the thing at all?”

Lenny slowly stepped out from the back, giving Harry a faint wave before lasering her glare on the supernatural practically blowing steam from his ears. “Byron, not only did you sign the waiver, but I gave you two outs before we got started. You knew the very high likelihood that this would happen.”

“Not this.” He once again opened his shirt and smacked the spitting llama on the snout. “Not once did you say a fucking llama.”

“Yes, this. And I even told you about the last guy’s rabid raccoon! And if my memory serves me correct, you said, ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’ Well, Byron, meet your risk.”

The vampire blustered before letting out a toothy hiss and speeding from the tattoo shop, the door slamming behind him.

Harry waited a few heartbeats before releasing a throaty chuckle. “Pretty sure you can expect a glowing Yelp review right there.”

They all laughed, even Lenny, although she looked a significant degree more tired. The phone rang and Maddox answered, turning to talk to the person on the line.

“Want a tour?” Lennox surprised her by asking.

“Yes, please!” Leaving her shopping bag on the counter, Harry followed her through to the back and was surprised at how big the place really was.

There were a lot more workrooms than she’d thought, a few of them occupied by other tattooists, but Lenny brought her toward the Vault, which turned out to be her main creative area with an elaborate chair and table set up in the center and an art studio tucked into the back corner. An open sketchbook lay on the desk and loose works in progress littered the surface.

“This is amazing, Lenny.” Harry couldn’t stop her eyes from feasting on every inch of the place. “I’m really glad you stuck with the art thing.”

She shrugged. “It’s tattoos.”

“Uh, no.” Harry pointed at the wall to a beautiful watercolor that there was no denying was Starlight Gazebo surrounded by vivid flowers. “This is artwork on skin rather than a stretched canvas. Never undersell yourself or your talent.”

“Not all that talented lately.” Lenny dropped into her desk chair with a heavy sigh.

Harry sat in the one on the other side. “I don’t know, that llama on Byron out there looked pretty damn realistic.”

They stared at each other before cracking up, Lenny laughing so hard tears sprang to her eyes. When they could finally breathe, the seer groaned. “I’m not sure how much longer I can take this broken feeling. People sit in my chair and the Sight comes. It works right alongside my hands as I place the tattoo… and then it stops. Disappears. No more Sight. No Reading. Clients end up with a spitting llama on their chest but with no freaking idea as to why.”

“Hence the waiver?” Harry guessed.

“Hence the waiver. And the multiple verbal warnings. We spent years trying to get the studio seen in the ink world, and it was finally starting to happen. Now?” Lenny shook her head, visibly frustrated. “We have enough regular clients coming in for ink that we can keep the doors open and lights on, but it’s nowhere near the volume it once was.”

“You mean when you got named the Fortune-Telling Tattooist?” Harry teased.

“Please never utter that name again.” Lenny groaned. “Although he denies it, I’m pretty sure Maddox came up with it because I woke up one day and suddenly it was plastered all over our social media accounts.”

“Oh, he totally came up with it, but it’s sweet. He’s proud of you. You should have heard him boasting about you when I first returned to Fates.” Harry loved this back-and-forth, finally feeling like things were slowly leveling into a new kind of norm. “Do you have any clients coming anytime soon?”

Len glanced at her table calendar. “Not for another two hours. Why?”

“I’ve been running around for Nora all day and I think I should treat myself for surviving her list.”

“What did you have in mind? Lunch?”

“A tattoo. A regular one. Not that I don’t love and trust you, but I’m not sure I can pull off a llama.”

Lenny’s pierced eyebrow twitched. “You seriously want a tattoo? Do you already have one?”

“Nope. Virgin skin.” Harry smirked mischievously. “Does that excite you?”

“Pretty sure that’s every tattoo artist’s dream.” Lenny laughed. “Do you have an idea of what you want?”

“Not a damn clue. I’ve been thinking about it for years, stalked countless Pinterest boards, and I can never make a final decision.”

“Okay, well… we have some books out front if you need some inspir—”

“Nope. I want you to decide.”

“Me?” Lenny’s eyes rounded. “Decide what I should tattoo on you? In permanent ink?”

“Do you use temporary ink?”

“No. No, I do not.”

“Then, yeah. Permanent ink. I mean, there are a few stipulations.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “One: it has to be a Lenny original. I don’t want something I’ll be able to find anywhere else. Two: no time like the literal present in which to get it done. Also, it prevents me from chickening out yet again. And three.” She stood and turned around, pointing to the upper swell of her left butt cheek. “I want it placed right here.”

“You want me to tattoo anything I want on your ass?”

“Not on my ass proper… north of my ass.”

“Regular ass-adjacent-placed tattoo or not, that’s a whole lot of trust you’re putting in me.”

“I know, and I do.” And she meant it.

Harry needed to repair the damage she created when she left Fates Haven the way she did, and first up was showing the people she loved that she had all the faith in the world in them. It was herself she was a little less sure about.

Lenny flipped through a few papers on her desk, searching for something. “I do have something I’ve been working on for a while. Let me show you—”

“Nope. Don’t show me. Just tattoo.”

Lenny bit her lip nervously. “You know this is highly irregular and not the least bit recommended, right?”

“Yep and yep. Now, where do you want me?”

With a nervous laugh, Lenny pointed to the nearby table. “Go ahead and lie face down and I’ll get everything set up.”

Harry swallowed the lump in her throat. The smile on her friend’s face told her that she made the right decision, and she got into position, rolling the top of her pants down.

Lenny was in artist mode, prepping her table with meticulous care and double- and triple-checking that she had everything she needed before she wheeled a chair over to Harry’s side. “Last chance to back out. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“But I’d hold it against me.” Harry gave her a small smile. “I’m ready. Give me my Lenny Original.”

The machine hummed to life, and she held her breath. She’d known it wouldn’t tickle, but at first touch of the needle she hissed. Lenny turned on some music, the old-school stuff they used to belt out in the car as they drove to Mystic Lake on hot summer nights. Soon enough, Harry was distracted enough to fumble her way through the lyrics.

Only a minute or two into the design, both Lenny and her tattoo gun froze.

“You okay? Why’d you stop?” Harry peeked over her shoulder. The rapid rise and fall of Lenny’s chest, along with the occasional blink, was the only sign of life. “Len? You’re starting to freak me out. Did your hand slip? Did you cut a butt artery or something?”

“I feel it,” Lenny murmured.

“You feel… it? Tired? Inspired? Horny?” Realization hit Harry between the eyes. “Oh, you feel the Sight?”

Lenny slowly nodded. “It feels different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know.” Lenny finally unfroze her fingers, her tense muscles easing a fraction as she stretched them. “I should probably stop.”

“Stop? You just started! You don’t have to Call it toward you, right?” Harry knew her friend typically had to invite her ability into action, much like she did her descry abilities. “As long as you don’t Call it, we should be good to keep going.”

“That would normally be fine with me, but I’m not Calling right now and it’s getting stronger. It’s like the Sight wants to be in the driver’s seat and I’m having a difficult time sliding over and letting it take the wheel.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

Lenny shook her head. Unease turned her nerves into a cold sweat across her brow.

“Maybe you should go with it,” Harry heard herself say after a prolonged silence.

The seer’s head whipped her way. “What?”

“Let it take over. See what happens. You said it’s never happened before. It could turn out to be a good thing. Maybe your Sight fixed its glitch.”

“Or it could be a catastrophic failure and is the first new step to a downward spiral. And you, as my canvas, would literally live with that failure etched on your ass.”

“When you put it like that…”

Lenny nodded.

“I want you to keep going even more.”

Her friend looked at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. “You cannot be serious. If this is some twisted way to get me to not be mad at you for leaving like you did…”

“It’s not all that,” Harry said truthfully. “I just think that there’s a reason why it feels different and you should follow the direction it wants you to go.”

Looking ready to bolt, Lenny glanced from her tattoo gun and back to the unfinished design hovering just above Harry’s butt. “Fine. I’ll keep going. But if you end up with a laughing donkey flying over your ass, don’t come crying to me.”

Harry chuckled. “An ass on an ass. That would be fun. Definitely a conversation starter. Any other directives?”

“You can’t look at it once it’s done. Sight tats are a little different from regular. The ink needs a little time to grab hold. We’ll have to cover it for at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours before I attempt to get a Reading off it.”

“Grab hold of what?”

“You. Or to be more accurate, your future. Your Fate. Whatever the hell it thinks needs to be Read.”

Harry shifted, trying—and failing—to keep her nerves off her face. Feigning courage she no longer felt, she nodded, getting back into position on the table. “Then you should probably get started.”