The floor register sighed a tired acknowledgment.
“Do you want Amelie?” I made it easy on her. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
The lights winked out then came back and stayed on.
“Thanks, girl.” I patted the nearest doorframe. “She’s been a good friend to us, and she needs us.”
Woolly flipped a curtain to send me on my way while she instigated a game of hide-and-seek with Oscar.
I joined Boaz and Amelie on the porch and gave them the good news. “Woolly has agreed to allow Amelie to stay.”
“I knew the old girl wouldn’t let us down.” Boaz rubbed his hands over his face. “Thank you, Woolly.”
Proving she could multitask where Boaz was concerned, even if he wasn’t totally forgiven, she flared the porch light in muted confirmation before I felt her attention slide back to Oscar.
Amelie said nothing at all. She stared straight through me, her breaths slow and deep, like she was sleeping with her eyes open. I thought she might have gone into shock, but that didn’t change what was about to happen. She had to get tattooed to be made safe. Maybe the distance would help her the way retreating into my head spared me from immediate pain. What a miserable thing to be thankful for.
“Everything is prepared,” Linus called from the safety of the yard. “Bring her into the kitchen, please.”
Boaz helped her stand, and she walked on autopilot down the steps and through the gate into the garden. I held the door open while he guided her into the kitchen and sat her in the chair Linus indicated with a sweep of his arm. Pots of red ink with a peculiar black glitter sat on the table along with a squirt bottle of clear liquid and a few other supplies.
Linus caught my eye. “Grier, can you step into the office for a moment?”
“Sure.” I left Boaz to stand watch over his sister and joined Linus at the desk. “You just want me to draw what I see?”
“Yes.” He pushed a worn sketchbook and a cup containing several black markers with tips ranging from extra fine point to bold toward me. “Use my design as a reference, but trust your instincts.”
I labored over the design for an hour, incorporating extra flourishes when my gut told me to go for more detail, and I was proud of the final product. Homework still sucked, more some days than others, but I couldn’t argue with the end result.
“This reminds me of a Celtic knot.” And a story Maud told me forever ago about using knots to confuse troubled spirits who would get lost following a thread and never find the end. Learning the same stories had inspired his work hardly surprised me. “What do you think?” I passed over the drawing, then I sat back and waited. “Too much?”
“It’s perfect.” He traced the pattern with his finger while shaking his head. “Your mind is beautiful.”
I flushed clear to the tips of my toes and escaped while he worked his mojo on the transfer.
For the first time since the Cora Ann, I addressed Amelie. “Where do you want the tattoo?”
Her eyes lifted to mine, but she wasn’t seeing me. She sat there, unblinking, until I looked away.
“I can’t remember her ever wanting a tattoo.” I aimed the comment at Boaz. “Did she mention it to you?”
“She talked about getting an infinity symbol for all of about five minutes after I got my first tattoo.” He searched his memories. “She was thinking about the inside of her ankle, but I warned her it would hurt like a sonofabitch.”
“Do we try to give her what she wanted, or do we choose somewhere less sensitive?”
“I have sigils I can use to lessen the pain,” Linus offered from the doorway. “It’s your choice.”
Boaz ran a hand over his head, leaving hair sticking up in a stripe down the middle. “Can I see it first?”
“Of course.” Linus held up the transfer paper. “Not many will guess what it does, but she can hide it with a sock if she’s self-conscious about it later.”
“A reminder will do her good,” Boaz decided. “Let’s go for the ankle.” He took her hand and held it like she would have wanted him to if she were present. “Just…don’t hurt her more than you have to.”
“I’ll do my best,” Linus vowed as he set to work.
The tattoo slowly emerged as a filigree knot, shaded and bold and lovelier than any tattoo I had ever seen. The red ink made it stand out, and the black glimmer when light hit it gave it a shadowy appearance, like the tattoo was alive under her skin. Part of me wondered if that liveliness was Ambrose fighting his new constraints.
Leaning over Linus’s shoulder to watch his vision unfold, I lost track of time, and then it was over.
“I’m done.” Linus sat back and turned off his tattoo gun. “Let me clean it and wrap it.”
Feeling like the other shoe was about to drop, I waited for the tattoo to do…something. But it didn’t do anything as dramatic as when Woolly detonated as her wards snapped into place. And the change in Amelie wasn’t as dramatic as when she was ripped from Ambrose. Maybe using Linus as a buffer between me and my sigils worked.
After he pronounced her ready for bed, I noticed the spark of awareness trickling into her expression. I couldn’t say if it was the tattoo or simply time. She’d had hours to start processing what had happened. Maybe she was coming around on her own.
Boaz helped her to her feet, and she swayed a bit, another sign of waking from her robotic trance.
“Grier.” Linus gripped my wrist when I stood to join them. “The design we discussed?” He placed a hand above his hip, as if I needed reminding of his ward against LS and their persuasion. “It’s been registered.”
“Already?” I sat back down. “Does this mean…?”
“I’m warmed up.” He flexed his fingers. “I might as well.”
“I need to get her to bed,” Boaz said, hooking his arm around Amelie’s waist. “Do what you need to do. We’ll talk before I leave.”
Leave, which was not the same as go home. The house next door might not wear that label anymore.
“Okay.” I settled in the chair Amelie had vacated. “Make yourself at home while you wait.”
The door closed behind them, and Linus lifted another sheet of transfer paper for my inspection. “The design has been refined. The only real difference is the ink I’m going to use. It’s created from blood taken from the avowal. Are you all right with that?”
“The idea of having Volkov’s blood in me gives me the creeps.” A shiver rippled down my arms. “But I can’t deny it’s effective in warding off Last Seeds.” I blasted out a breath. “Let’s do this quick before I change my mind.”
He smiled a little, probably used to first-time jitters. “Where do you want it?”
“Artist’s choice?” I considered and then dismissed the idea of mirroring my tattoo to Amelie’s. As much as she resented me for having what she didn’t, I didn’t want her thinking I had to have what she did too. “I have no preference.”
“Your shoulder?” He placed a latex-covered hand across the blade. “Spine?” He moved it toward the center. “Thigh?” He dropped it into his own lap. “Forearm? Upper arm? Wrist?”
This was taking too long. I was starting to second-guess how badly I wanted a talisman inked into my skin. “You’re going to make me choose, aren’t you?”
“It’s your body,” he said simply.
“I live in tank tops and shorts. I don’t want it visible. I want to keep the element of surprise.”
“We could do your hip or ribs,” he offered. “Lower back tattoos aren’t as popular these days.”
I bet they hurt like crap too. “The tramp-stamp label ruined that one, huh?”
While I turned the possibilities over in my mind, he set about sanitizing his workstation and getting ready for his next client. Me. After giving me several minutes to consider my options, he settled in to wait on my answer.
“I want it on my spine, positioned between my shoulder blades.” That meant saying buh-bye to backless or low-cut dresses, but it’s not like I had any intentions of embracing the role of Society darling. “Right in the spot where it prickles when you’re being watched.”