0.5-The Asylum Interviews: Bronx: An Asylum Tales Short Story (4 page)

The warlock stepped into the room and the door slammed shut without him touching it. “At the close of your case, the council ruled that you would be permitted magic for self-defense only, not that you should actually need to do so. I always thought you were skating on thin ice when you pursued this tattoo artist disguise. You could never stop using magic. You’re more likely to be carried off by a dragon than voluntarily stop using magic.”

“This isn’t some disguise,” I snapped, sickened by his reference to the now-extinct race destroyed by the Ivory Towers. “I am a tattoo artist and a damn good one! I’m helping people, which is a whole hell of a lot more than any of you Ivory Tower fanatics can claim.”

“Helping people?” Gideon scoffed. The energy tightened and I was lifted another inch higher, pulling my heels up off the carpet as my spine popped. “I’m sure you get a lot of visits from half-starved orphans and little old ladies on pensions. And naturally, you’re doing these good deeds for free because you’re such a humanitarian.” He snorted as he let his hands drop to his sides and took a step closer. “Don’t lie to me and definitely don’t lie to yourself. You’re only out for yourself, just like everything else that crawls on this mud ball.”

Swallowing a curse, I turned my attention from the warlock to the spell holding me in place. It was basic enough. Opening my fingers, I pulled together a web of energy while kicking my feet out so that I would be suspended by my arms. The combination of the energy and the sudden shift in weight broke the spell. I crashed to the ground, landing on my ass only after I nearly jerked my arms out of their sockets. Pushing the pain aside as it stole through my arms and back, I rolled away from Gideon and came up in a crouch with a magic blue shield around me.

The warlock never moved. Hell, I doubt he even flinched. Arching one eyebrow at me, he waited until I dropped the shield and stood. Gideon lunged at me, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, pummeling me in the face and stomach with his fists before I could even raise my hands to defend myself.

Gideon leaned in close as I slouched against the wall, gasping for air and wincing against the pain of each labored breath. “I don’t need magic to kill you—you’re not worth losing one year of my life. But don’t doubt me, I
will
kill you. Now, what’s the purpose of the wards? I’d like to give a full report to the council.” He never raised his voice, but he didn’t need to. His tone was cold and hard. His decision was already made.

“It’s just protection wards. Go look at them!” I wheezed in a ragged breath.

“I saw them. They’re somewhat generic and could be used for many things.”

“It’s just protection. An incubus is getting a bad reaction to a tattoo. I said I would take a look and help, but I have to protect myself against the effects.”

For the first time since I had met Gideon, he looked surprised. The warlock stepped away from me, his expression slightly twisted in confusion. “What kind of reaction?”

“Everyone in his vicinity becomes highly sexed.”

“An outbreak of mass fornication?” To my utter shock, he didn’t sound particularly skeptical of my situation.

“Whenever he’s near people,” I confirmed. “It even leaks through walls—brick and concrete don’t even slow it down. That’s the reason for the wards. I’m hoping it’ll contain the effects until I can re-tattoo him.”

“Interesting,” Gideon murmured, scratching his chin as he wandered to the other side of the room. I could practically hear the steady click of wheels turning in his mind and I was more afraid than when he was attacking. Parker couldn’t fall into the control of the Ivory Towers. I wasn’t sure what interest they might have in him beyond idle curiosity, but I was sure it would eventually lead to lab rat–type experiments.

“Of course, there is a second course you could choose besides another tattoo,” Gideon said, drawing me away from my thoughts. “You could kill him and have done with it.”

“No!”

“We really don’t need all the races breeding more than they already do.”

“Not an option.”

“And, really, who is going to miss one less incubus in the world? All those races don’t need help in the bedroom.”

“Drop it, Gideon! I’m not killing him and neither are you,” I snarled, pushing off from the wall. “It shouldn’t be a hard fix and I’ll handle it.”

The warlock smirked at me. “Really?”

It was a dare. Luckily, I wasn’t so far gone to walk into the trap that he was setting for me. Taking a deep breath, I held my ground but got control of my tone. “Please. I would like a chance to help him before the Towers move in.”

Gideon’s smirk transformed into an evil grin. “Very good. I’ll hold off on killing you and him, if you can refrain from using any other magic to fix this mishap.”

“I’ll just use the wards,” I reassured him.

He pulled open the door, but paused, staring at the doorjamb and the symbols in black chalk. “I wonder if you can work without your wards. It would be interesting to watch.”

I held my breath, waiting for him to decide. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be able to think clearly while I examined Parke’s tattoo, let alone re-tattoo him with no problems. The wards were an absolute necessity if I was going to succeed. Gideon glanced over his shoulder at me and his smile widened. I could imagine the fear and panic stretched across my face. It must have been what he was looking for, because he finally chuckled. “You can keep the wards, but that’s all. I’ll be watching you.”

The warlock walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. My shoulders slumped and I released the pent-up breath. My hands shook with a combination of rage and relief. This was my life. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for Gideon to smack me down while praying that someone else from the Ivory Towers didn’t accidentally stumble over me and kill me because I was still breathing.

But Gideon was right about one thing. I couldn’t stop using magic. It had taken me months to learn not to wave my hand to turn on a light, flush the toilet, or warm my cooled coffee. I needed the touch of magic curling around me. More so, I needed to feel it move through me and into whatever act I was trying to accomplish, connecting me to something bigger for only a second or two. Gideon was waiting for an excuse to kill me, and there was no doubt in my mind that one day I would hand him that excuse.

For now, none of it mattered. I needed to help my friend with his tattoo and interesting case of rampant sexual lust.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

I
heard footsteps creaking overhead just seconds before my cell phone vibrated twice in my pocket. Checking one last time that the sign was still in place on the locked front door, I slipped out the back door of the shop with my journal in hand and pounded up the stairs. Before Parker’s call alerting me to his arrival, I had to track down Bronx. Since I hadn’t bothered to get his number the night before, I was forced to call Kyle at Tattered Edge. I made it sound like I was doing a background check on the troll in reference to a job. It was a relief to hear that Kyle regarded Bronx’s work highly and that the troll was officially licensed through TAPSS. Before hanging up, I made a lame excuse and got Bronx’s number.

After piercing his groggy, sleep-induced fog, the troll was stunned by the news that there was a complication with Parker’s tattoo. And then he was even more upset that there was nothing that he could do about it until after the sun set. Trolls could not go out in sunlight without turning to stone. There were other races that were sensitive to sunlight, but for trolls and vampires, it was lethal. I wrote down the list of ingredients and details on the tattoo itself in my journal along with some notes on possible fixes. Unfortunately, none of the ingredients I had thought of to fix the tattoo were easy to get.

The air vibrated with energy just outside the door to the apartment. The collection of glyphs and symbols scrawled across the wood in black chalk created a pair of barriers to hold in the power that was rolling off Parker. The first barrier started at the foot of the stairs leading up to the second floor, while the second and stronger barrier was at the doorway and around the apartment. After Gideon left, I went around and double-checked everything I had done. I was glad I had. The ward was holding, but just barely. The energy coming off Parker’s spell was pushing and bowing against my own wards, fighting to reach me. If I learned anything from this mess, it was that the power of an incubus was far stronger than I had initially believed.

Parker must have heard my footsteps because he jerked open the door before I could convince myself to reach for it. He looked more than a little haggard with his hair standing on edge and white T-shirt inside out. He must have run out the door once he got Jill subdued, grabbing clothes as he left without looking at them.

“Don’t come out!” I shouted, holding up one hand to stop him as he took a step toward me. “And don’t smear the chalk on the door frame.”

Parker raised both hands above his head and took a step back, moving so that I could enter the apartment, but I didn’t. “What’s all of this?” he demanded, motioning toward the largest symbol on the open door. “What the hell have you gotten into?”

I frowned as I pushed one hand into my pocket to grasp a small chunk of black chalk. “You’re a good friend, Parke, and I’ll do everything I can to help you, but I can’t answer that question.” Since he had approached the doorway, I could feel the barrier starting to weaken. I wasn’t sure it was going to hold much longer and I didn’t want to risk being affected by his tattoo before I could examine it. “Just stay where you are for a minute.”

Moving over to stand on the first step, I knelt down and quickly sketched a protective circle on the small wooden porch, lined with symbols similar to what I had already used. The whole thing glowed for a second, eliciting a murmur from Parker as he took another step back into the apartment.

“I didn’t know tattoo artists could do this,” he murmured.

“They can’t,” I muttered as I stepped into the circle and pocketed the chalk. Before my friend could ask any more questions, I opened my journal and pulled my pencil from my back pocket. “Without crossing the doorway, let me get a look at the tattoo.”

Parker pulled his T-shirt over his head and revealed a tattoo about the size of my fist in the center of his chest near the bottom of his rib cage. Despite the simplicity of the tattoo, it was quite elegant and lovely. Some of the black lines of the outline were thick, while others were thin. It was carefully shaded and detailed. The flames around the heart seemed to leap and dance. What was even more impressive was the location. Chest tattoos could be a bitch since most clients couldn’t stop breathing throughout the process, and a moving canvas was a pain in the ass to work on.

I made a quick sketch of the tattoo, making note of the colors that Bronx had used. “Who decided on the location?”

“It was sort of a joint decision,” Parker said as I continued to stare at him. “We weren’t sure which location would be the most effective. Bronx thought that the middle of my chest would link to both my stomach and soul.”

“It’s been my experience that the actual location doesn’t make much difference in most cases, but this was a good choice.” I opened my mouth to ask him if he was experiencing any different sensations due to the tattoo when his phone rang. Parker quickly answered it, pacing away from the doorway. By his hunched stance and worried look, I could tell it was Jill. Apparently she was awake and looking for him.

“Everything okay?” I asked when he hung up.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “She was just wondering where I was.”

“Was she upset?”

“Not as far as I could tell.”

“Was she still horny?”

Parker frowned at me for a second before it completely dissolved. “No. In fact, she didn’t mention anything about what had happened today. I don’t know if she doesn’t remember it or if she’s just embarrassed because she thinks it’s her and not something I did.”

“We’ll fix this and then explain everything to her. Jill will understand,” I said, waving for him to return to the doorway. I looked over the tattoo one last time and closed my journal. “Are you hungry at all?”

“No!”

“Last night, we said the goal of this tattoo was to make you more sensitive to the little things. Do you know if that actually worked?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Parke’s shoulders slumped as he reached around and picked up his shirt off the floor. “I mean, I was still full from last night and when Jill started this morning, there wasn’t time to weigh whether a couple kisses were having an impact.”

I stepped backward and leaned against the wood railing that lined the porch, and then quickly straightened when I realized that I had moved out of my circle. Damn, I was getting seriously out of practice when it came to this magic shit. I had never been big on protective circles and intricate spells. My preference had always run for powerful, aggressive spells that were pulled together and slung with my bare hands. This circle and symbol crap took too much concentration. And sadly, magic was not something that you could half-ass or you risked losing your ass.

“The good news is that I should be able to fix this mess. I just need some time. The bad news is that fixing it likely means wiping out everything that was done. You’ll be back to normal, or as normal as you ever were.”

“That’s fine,” Parker said with a heavy sigh of relief.

“But that means you’re back to square one with your problem regarding Jill and your relationship. You’ve still got to fix that.”

“How?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I threw up my hands, fighting the urge to stomp down the stairs or punch him. “Do you really think asking me is a good idea? As I recall, talking to a pair of tattoo artists about your love life got you into this mess. We’re all potion happy. Why don’t you tell her the truth? All of it. See what happens. I can’t imagine that it would be a bigger disaster than this.”

Parker nodded. “You’re right. I’ll talk to her. How long is this going to take?”

“Not sure. I need to do some research and make some phone calls. I’ve got a couple ideas of what can possibly fix this, but the ingredients that I need for the new tattoo are really hard to get my hands on. In the meantime, I need you to stay in the apartment. Don’t open the door and don’t let anyone inside no matter what. Don’t tell Jill where you are or you risk her coming down here. Call me if you have any problems.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t touch any of the symbols drawn around the apartment.”

“Okay.”

Waving at Parker, I started down the stairs when he called to me. I turned around to find him still in the doorway. “Honestly, would this have happened if you had tattooed me?”

“Honestly?” I stared at him, seeing the tattoo in my mind. “If I had done it, it probably would have been worse. And I think he did a nicer job on the ink than I could have done. Any tattoo artist would have approved of the potion and design, but all would have agreed it was a risk. I’ve never heard of an incubus or a succubus being tattooed with this particular intent. It’s not Bronx’s fault.”

“Are you going to hire him?”

The corner of my mouth lifted in a half grin. “I’d count myself lucky if he agreed to take the job after this fiasco. If that tattoo is a good example of his work, he’s very skilled and I need to grab him up before someone else finds him.”

Parker waved at me one last time and ducked back into the apartment. “Thanks Gage.” He was sounding more than a little disheartened. I didn’t know if he was more depressed about the fact that the tattoo had failed to do what he needed it to do or because he would have to sit down with Jill and tell her the truth.

While I didn’t envy his confrontation with Jill, I figured things could have turned out a whole lot worse. And still could if I didn’t get this fixed fast. I had already managed to catch the attention of the Ivory Towers, which no one wanted ever. I didn’t need Gideon hovering over me more than he already did. Besides, Low Town had enough problems, it didn’t need to become a feeding ground for things a lot scarier than the occasional incubus or succubus.