Demon's Vengeance The Complete - Jocelynn Drake Page 0,15
free in my brain. It was an old and basic technique to change a chunk of a person’s inner core, their sense of self. I had done something similar but far more delicate and subtler to my brother. The difference between the two was like the difference between a jackhammer and a chisel. Trixie was right. This wasn’t good.
“What’s an Alpha Conversion?” Serah asked. She was holding a pen and small notepad now, ready to take notes.
“Most people in the world can be divided into two groups: alphas, which are the bold aggressors and risk takers, and the betas, which are the cautious followers,” Trixie explained.
“Like Type A and Type B personalities?” Serah supplied.
Trixie looked at me and frowned. Trixie was an elf and she dealt in nature’s laws, not Serah’s human constructs of human psychology. When Trixie spoke of alphas, she was talking predators.
“In a basic sense, yes,” I jumped in to keep things moving. “The design is important, but the types of ingredients used determine the degree and power behind the change.”
“Can this tattoo be prepped and completed quickly?”
“No.” I looked down at the design, smeared with Kyle’s blood. “The client would have contacted him and discussed it days ago. Probably met at least once prior to tattooing the person.”
“How long have you worked for TAPSS?” Trixie asked. I was beginning to wonder that myself. Not all TAPSS investigators have a detailed knowledge of tattooing and potions, but most have a solid working knowledge. Serah was asking some pretty basic questions she should have known the answers to.
“Four months, but I was a cop for five years before that. I know how to run an investigation,” she said through clenched teeth. I couldn’t blame her for getting pissed, but we wanted to see Kyle’s killer stopped and that was unlikely to happen with someone who didn’t know the pointy end of a tattooing needle.
“Shouldn’t you have a partner or something? Someone with more tattooing and potion knowledge?” Trixie continued.
“I do and even he didn’t recognize the symbol.”
I shrugged. “Alpha Conversions are extremely rare and aren’t taught during an apprenticeship. A lot of tattoo artists probably couldn’t do one. Not an effective one at least.”
“My partner also refused to work with me when I mentioned your name,” she said, looking very pointedly at me. “None of them wanted to work with me if I contacted you.”
Trixie lifted one questioning eyebrow at me, as if to ask what I’d done to deserve that reaction.
“Don’t look at me like that. Bronx was the last one to give TAPSS any kind of shit. Not me.”
“I’m sure you didn’t help matters,” Trixie said with a smirk.
She was right, of course, but I bit back my snide comeback in favor of pressing forward. Spending the evening standing in the dried blood of a deceased acquaintance wasn’t my idea of a good time.
“Where’s the potion?” I demanded.
Serah led the way to the next room, which wasn’t much larger than the bathroom in my apartment. A large cabinet stood open with a chaotic array of ingredients that were stored in jars, bowls, and envelopes, while others just lay out on the shelves with no labels. It was a tattoo artist’s worst nightmare. Effective potions for tattoos required fresh and properly preserved ingredients. You couldn’t just throw a bunch of unknown shit in a bowl and expect it to work.
The table used to stir the potions didn’t look much better. The surface was covered with so much old flotsam and random crap that I couldn’t be sure what he’d used to make the killer’s potions and what was left over from potions he’d stirred weeks ago.
Trixie shook her head, standing beside me. “This is a fucking disaster.”
“Yeah, but we can throw out these bowls,” I said, waving my hand at two crucibles and a butter bowl growing mold and collecting dust. They hadn’t been used recently. Carefully picking up the chipped ceramic bowl closest to me, I ran my finger along the interior and then sniffed the residue left behind on the glove. I held it up to Trixie, who also sniffed it.
“I can definitely pick out Woodruff and Saint-John’s-wort,” she said. She stepped back as if she wanted to mentally examine what she had just smelled without any interference.
I nodded, grateful she had come along. My sense of smell was that of an average human’s, while Trixie’s elf senses were much keener. She’d have a chance of picking out the exact ingredients.