Newtseye green, nightshade black—I’d need a replacement for my cinnabar red; a recent FDA study had linked it to melanomas, even when inked with the healing power of free-range horn. I stood there a moment, spinning the newtseye in my hand, watching it glimmer, when I started to get a sinking feeling that I was getting ahead of myself. The design was made by Nazis. There were no obvious swastikas or more subtle black magic marks on it, but really, I knew nothing about this tattoo… or its future wearer.
“Look, Spleen, I only ink white or grey.”
“That looks green,” he said, somehow playing dumb and wheedling at the same time.
“You know what I mean,” I snapped. “What do you know about this tat, other than what he told you?”
Spleen looked at me helplessly.
“What about Wulf? Other than the obvious?” Nothing. “Who recommended him to you?”
“I, uh…”
“So he found you, is that it?” I kneaded my brow. “So you know zip—”
“He seemed genuine,” Spleen repeated. “And he paid a lot of money—”
“How much?” I held up my hand. “How much is my cut?”
“I… dunno?” Spleen said. “I mean, how much would you charge—”
“Stop being a dick,” I said. “And don’t lie. I’ll have him under my needle for…” I squinted at the screen “… three or four hours. I guarantee you, he’ll spill the details.”
“Seventy-five hundred,” Spleen said.
A thousand for the needles, five hundred for the ink and powders. Another five hundred for graphomancy and license fees on a “new” design. Take out the Rogue’s twenty percent cut… and I could stand to land close to forty-five hundred dollars—putting me halfway to a new Vectrix electric motorbike to replace my old Vespa.
“I’ll d—” I began, and stopped. Before the money made me stupid.
I have rules. I don’t do black ink. I don’t do religious marks. And I sure don’t do bad charms. And I knew zip about this tat. For all I knew it was originally an evil Norse mark designed to curse a werewolf with terrible pain every full moon, but after the Nazis fiddled with it… the tat might be just as likely to set him on fire. “I’ll… consider it. My statement to Wulf stands—I need to get this flash vetted by a witch before I ink it.”
“Do we reeeally need to deal with that?” Spleen said. “I mean, the fees—”
“When’s the last time you changed the oil on your car?”
“You last changed the oil on that car,” Spleen said. “I save the money—”
“Spleen!” I said—then stopped and kneaded my brow. “Look, I know you don’t think your engine’s going to catch on fire, so why spend the money—”
“Exactly,” Spleen said with triumph. “Ex-ZACTLY—”
“—but if this sets him on fire in my chair, we won’t get any money. He won’t pay up.”
“He’s got the money, he’s got it,” Spleen said, waving me off. “I got a retainer, yes I did, five thousand when he came to town, so don’t josh old Spleen… “ But then he saw my face. “Wait, you’re… serious? Set him on fire? Tattoos can do that?”
I squeezed one hand tight, letting power flow into the yin-yang in my palm, then thrust it under his face, letting the mana out explosively into a tiny ball of lightning. Spleen leapt back and yelped, eyes wide in terror, and I blew him a big kiss, sending the little crackling ball of light towards him. It bounced around him like a kitten, and he stumbled back, batting frantically at it with a folder until it disappeared into a cloud of sparks and color.
“Jeez, jeez, JEE%us,” Spleen said. “Don’t do that—”
“This is a fifty-year-old Nazi tattoo, Spleen,” I said, taking the folder from him. “For all we know it was designed to make a werewolf explode on contact with moonlight as a kind of living magic bomb. So no, I’m not going to ink it until someone can vet it.”
“Well, tell that someone,” Spleen said, shuddering, “‘Hello, spooky-eyes.’ For me. “
“Spleen!” I said. “Be nice. What if Jinx heard you?”
“You call her that,” he protested.
“I’ve known her forever,” I replied. “Now shoo. I have to make some calls.”
And I needed to make them quickly. If Wulf’s problem was as bad as it sounded, and the tat was as good as he claimed, we needed to move right away. First I called Jinx, who agreed to meet me on my break that afternoon. Then I buzzed our receptionist and asked her to pull the licensing paperwork for some new magical