few weeks earlier. “Healed and looking good.”
I glanced at it, then frowned at the poor lighting in the lobby. “Come on back. I think I need to touch up the red a little.”
As the werewolf greeted my coworkers and shed his jacket, I grabbed what I needed and started to prepare my area for a quick touch-up while we talked. Werewolves were great to tattoo because they healed quickly, had a high pain threshold, and their skin tended to be flawless, if a little hairy. With the removal of Reave, Jack’s entire pack had been in for a clan tag I designed, involving an oak tree and the initials L.T., for their home turf. It had turned out pretty damn good and I was pleased that nearly all of them had returned more than once for additional ink, keeping me and my employees busy.
“When are you going to let Trixie tattoo me?” Jack demanded as I snapped on a pair of latex gloves and picked up a disposable razor.
“The day I’ve heard that you’ve been neutered,” I replied, tilting his head to the side. I carefully shaved away the little hairs that had grown through the tattoo, giving me a clean canvas to work on. In the improved overhead light, I could clearly see where some of the red coloring in the letters hadn’t completely filled in. There were also a few spots where I needed to touch up the black.
“This should only take a couple minutes,” I said, throwing away the razor and preparing the tattooing gun.
“That’s fine. I came in to talk to you anyway.”
The werewolf settled in and I stepped on the pedal, sending a soothing buzz through the shop. I went over the black first, touching up some of the outline and making some of the lines thicker before cleaning up the red in the letters. Over the buzzing, I could hear some of the conversation Trixie and Bronx were having. While light, their words were strained and distracted, as if they were waiting for whatever news Jack had brought.
I spent more time on it than I should have, but there’s something soothing about working on a client who doesn’t squirm and flinch with every touch of the pulsing needle. I think I also needed to get lost in the work to find my center. My thoughts and worries slipped away with the buzz, my eyes locked on the living canvas before me.
“What news do you have for me?” I asked when I finally put the gun down and cleaned the excess blood and ink from the tattoo.
“Bronx asked that we keep our ears out for the serial killer, but we haven’t heard anything yet,” Jack said.
I frowned, placing a pad of gauze against his neck. “That sucks.”
The shifter shrugged. “Whoever this bastard is, he’s not passing through our territory. He’s other side of the tracks.”
Cutting off a couple pieces of tape, I secured the pad. “The killer is a woman.”
“Doesn’t change anything.” Jack sat up when I finished, his hand smoothing over the tape to make sure that it was in place. He’d only need it for an hour or so to keep the area clean. “I’ve got all kinds of lowlifes and scum trekking through my domain. Not a whisper, but it’s probably for the best. I know of four shifters in Low Town who are pregnant and these killings have got the entire shifter community on high alert. If this bitch isn’t caught soon, someone is going to get killed when tempers finally snap.”
“All werewolves?” Trixie asked.
Jack shook his head, all smiles gone. “Two werewolves, one were-panther, and one were-bear. But I’ve heard that the were-bear family has headed out of town for the winter. I think they’re going to hibernate through the bulk of her pregnancy.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered under my breath. The tension that had slipped away with our joking in the tattooing room had come back, tightening in my neck and shoulders.
This was turning into an ugly situation. It wasn’t just that we were dealing with an insane killer on the loose in Low Town, but we also had shifters growing edgier the longer she was on the streets. Powder kegs were popping up around the city, waiting, primed to explode. People were going to end up dead, and I didn’t think that the killer was going to be the first in line.
“I also hear that you’ve managed to rile up the goblins,” Jack said with a knowing smirk.
“There was .