I jabbed my palm into his nose, and cartilage shattered. Blood spurted. Cursing, his friend grabbed hold of my arm. To stop me from running—unnecessary—or to stop me from another attack, I wasn’t sure. I only knew he’d made a mistake. I clamped onto his wrist and twisted with all of my strength, forcing his body to turn with the motion to save the bone from breaking.
Before he could lurch free, I kicked the back of his knee, sending him to the ground. An elbow to the temple finished him off, and he collapsed the rest of the way. He sprawled on the concrete, motionless.
Satisfaction filled me, followed swiftly by guilt.
“Come on,” I said. I tugged the lapels of my coat closer as I walked away.
“That was both cool and frightening,” Kat said with a shudder, keeping pace with me. “I don’t know whether to pat you on the back or run and hide.”
“Where did you learn how to do that?” Reeve asked, her gaze darting back to the boys.
“Col— Around.” My gaze landed on the tattoo shop across the street. Bright red letters—TATTIE’S INK—flashed on and off.
I stopped.
The girls backtracked.
“I want one,” I found myself saying.
“One what?” Kat asked.
“A tattoo.” The slayers marked themselves with the names of the loved ones they’d lost in the war against the zombies, or symbols to represent them. I had none, yet I’d lost my parents, my sister and my grandfather.
Bad Ali.
“I want one,” I said again, more confident this time. I headed across the street.
The girls followed after me.
“What are you going to get?” Kat asked, clapping happily. “A skull and crossbones? Snake fangs dripping with blood? A unicorn?”
“This is a mistake,” Reeve said.
A bell jingled over the door as I entered. The walls were covered with art, pictures of lions and tigers, dragons and aliens. Hearts. Stars. The sun, the moon, fish and lightning. Naked women. It was overwhelming.
A heavily tattooed man with piercings all over his face stood behind the counter, cleaning equipment. He glanced up, grunted with disdain. “You guys even close to eighteen?”
“No,” Reeve and I said in unison.
“Yes,” Kat said, and elbowed me.
He dried his hands on a rag. “You’ll need a permission slip from your parents, and you’ll need at least one parent present.”
Kat offered her sweetest grin and wound her arm around my waist. “We knew that. That’s why I’m here. I’m her mother, and I’ll sign whatever form you’ve got.”
A gleam of amusement in his eyes. “She must take after her father.”
“All of my children do,” Kat quipped.
His gaze landed on me. “Let me guess. You want a flower. Or a butterfly.”
Not quite. “I want a white rabbit,” I said.
He thought it over, shrugged and slid a pad and pen in Kat’s direction. “Fill this out all properlike for your daughter, since I’m guessing your IDs will tell me you have different last names, and you,” he said to me, “come on back. I think I have something you’ll dig.”
“Ali,” Reeve said, latching onto my wrist. “A tattoo is permanent.”
Yeah, and mine would be the only permanent thing in my life. Nana wouldn’t live forever. And, as I’d been told time and time again by Mr. Ankh, the moment Reeve learned about the zombies she would be ripped out of my life. Not even the vivacious Kat was guaranteed a tomorrow.
“I have to do this.” I pulled from her grip to trail Artist Guy behind a crimson curtain. There were several rooms, each blocked by one of those curtains. He led me to the one in back, swept the fabric aside and motioned to a lounge chair. I sat.
He flipped through an art book. When he found what he was searching for, he showed me the page. “What do you think?”
“I like the ears of this one,” I said, pointing. “But the body of this one, and the tail of that one.” Perfect for Emma. “Also, I’ll want a second tattoo. Two daggers in the shape of a cross.” I could think of no better representation of my parents. I wasn’t sure what I’d get to represent Pops, though. His would have to wait.