2. Chapter TwoMarcus
Chapter Two
Marcus
T he young woman, no more than early twenties, jumped up on my table. “I heard if you use numbing cream, it’ll hurt less,” she said, gathering her long blonde hair up into a high ponytail.
I struggled to hold in a frown. I didn’t want to be judgmental, but I also wanted to tell her that if she was afraid of pain, then she shouldn’t be getting a tattoo, especially of a flower going down her spine. It would be beautiful because I had skill, but it would hurt.
“We don’t have that here, sorry,” I stated as I worked on the stencil.
The girl, her name was Olivia, looked pensively at her dark-haired friend, who was sitting in a nearby chair as support. I moved slowly, waiting to see if Olivia would change her mind.
“It’ll be worth it,” said her dark-haired friend. “You’re going to get so many comments when you post it. Plus, you got an appointment here, which isn’t easy.”
Don’t roll your eyes, Marcus. No one needs you to be a dick . Plus, she probably had thousands of followers, and the exposure would help the business. I was already the number one tattoo shop in Baltimore, but I never wanted to take that for granted.
Olivia took in a deep breath and lifted her shirt over her head. She was wearing a string bikini underneath, which I could work around. “You’re right, Tara. This is going to look so hot. I heard once you get one tattoo, you can’t stop.”
I showed her the stencil, and her green eyes lit up in approval.
“So cute!” she clapped, and her friend joined her.
Cute was not the word I was going for, but I’d let it go. “Turn on your stomach, please.”
She moved to lie down on the cushioned table, and I adjusted it to be as comfortable as possible for her and me. “How long will this take?”
“About an hour.” I worked fast but still was incredibly detailed.
I began my work, and Olivia tensed under the tattoo gun but did not move. I was impressed. I expected her to cry and give up, but she watched some reality show on her smartphone while chatting with her friend.
Tara, the friend, looked over at me, eyes lingering on my exposed arms covered in various tattoos. “Did you tattoo yourself? They look so good.”
I gave a curt nod as I set up for another color. “Some. The others I had other artists here, do.”
“Sleeve tattoos are so hot,” Olivia stated, twisting a bit to see my arms.
The women exchanged smiling glances.
I didn’t have to guess what that was about. Despite them being human and me being an orc, they were interested. I was an alpha, tall and muscular, with shoulder-length black locs and the sides shaved. I also had gauge piercings in both ears and was covered in tattoos. I was the type of male that their parents would hate, and the one most women thought would offer a good time in bed and nothing more. I was more than that, of course, but it helped not to share too much.
Despite my current life as an owner of a tattoo shop, I had a past that would justify any parent's concerns if I was brought to the family dinner table. In my former life, I served as my family’s hitman. I did the dirty work to get rid of our enemies. Those I killed weren’t good, but it didn’t matter. I was a killer. I came from a notorious and wealthy organized crime family of orcs based in Philadelphia. I was born into it and given no options unless I proved useless. I used to look upon those who were ignored in our family, like my younger brother, with pity. He struggled to work to the standards that my demanding father and grandparents held and failed at every turn. My mother coddled him, and my father gave up on him.
However, when it came to my older brother and me, we were pawns to carry the family forward. My brother would lead the organization, and I would be his right hand,—the enforcer. And I was for years.
After our parents were killed, hazards of our line of work, we took over running the business. A business that consisted of trading illegal potions and magic, among other things. As well as getting rid of those who threatened our position or the position of any allies.
I did my father’s bidding and then my brother’s until I’d had enough of the fighting, the hurting, the killing, the death. I’d been raised since birth to do nothing else but destroy. Artistry and tattooing were side interests that became a hobby. Until one day, I walked away from the life of crime. I knew it didn’t absolve me of my sins, but I vowed to live the rest of my years doing good.
It pissed my family off, but they would be just fine.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Olivia asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I smiled but kept my eyes on my work. I knew I was nothing but a fetish, and these girls barely looked of age. I was closer to forty than twenty. Not to mention that they were not my type. I preferred my women thicker and older. “No, ma’am. But I’m not dating at the moment.” I wasn’t dating at all. It was too dangerous to put someone at risk. I wasn’t in criminal life anymore, but my past always hovered around, and I still had criminal family ties.
Oliva sighed. “You’re an alpha, right? Waiting for an omega, I’m guessing.”
Now, I did like that idea. A paranormal omega would be potent, and maybe it wasn’t a reach that she could withstand the risk of being with an ex-criminal like me. Still, even if, by some miracle, there was a paranormal or magic-wielding omega out there, it would be improbable that I would be lucky enough to gain her attention or be worthy of her. They were rarer than alphas. Whether paranormal or normal humans, omegas were unique, and if you found one you were compatible with, you didn’t let one go. I had yet to be so lucky and never kept my hopes up for such an opportunity. Not that my former life would allow me to expose someone so precious to possible enemies who’d want to harm her to get back at me. It would have been foolish and selfish to have an omega back then. It was still so now. My enemies had been quiet these past five years since I’d left my life of crime, but it didn’t mean they were gone.
When I finished my tattoo, Olivia loved it, as I knew she would. She further impressed me by tipping me generously and posting about her tattoo and my business on her social media before heading out.
My business partner, Paul, who had just finished up with a client, slapped me on the shoulder. He was tall, a few inches shy of my 6’6 height, and lanky, with short, red hair and a thick beard to match. He was just as tatted as me, except his extended up his neck and over his hands. He was a vampire, but he didn’t mind working as early as the afternoon, as long as he remained away from windows. He was a relatively young vampire, and his tolerance for the sun was still low. “I’m calling it now,” he started, “We’re going to have to expand soon. We got rated the best tattoo shop in Maryland. People are already coming from out of town to visit us. We might have to get more artists to keep up.”
I couldn’t help but agree. I looked around the store with a sense of pride. The space was dark with black painted walls, covered in framed tattoo designs, and a dark wood floor. The register counter stood off to the left near the front, along with seating, and toward the back was our set up for tattooing. Currently, there were only four of us who worked at the shop. While I liked being successful, the attention wasn’t my thing. Anything that drew the attention of those from my past would be a problem. Still, I couldn’t help but want to continue with this new path I’d chosen. It would be where I remained until I couldn’t any longer.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, the exhaustion from a long day starting to creep into my bones. “Yeah, I didn’t think it could happen. Thought my reputation would scare people off.”
Paul shrugged, walking to the counter toward the first half of the shop. “No, it was probably the reason people were curious. Once you got the respect of the underworld crowd, everyone started coming. Plus, between you, me, and Sean, no one fucks with us. Even with crime going up. I’m thinking we can even mix it up and sell clothes. Maybe even put in a small bar or get licensed as a smoke shop.”
I cut my eyes at him. “No to the bar and smoke shop. I want people in and out. Not lounging around drunk and high.”
He gave me a sheepish look. “Coffee?”
Before I could respond, my cell phone vibrated in my pants pocket. I rarely got calls unless they were from my grandmother. My older brother, Harris, all but disowned me when I left the business. My younger brother, Sam, called me slightly less than my grandmother, but that was only because he treated everyone that way. He was busy finding his way in the world, although, by his thirty-one years, it was taking longer than expected.
I looked at my phone. I did not recognize the number. I frowned and ignored the call. They could leave a message. “No coffee shop, man. I could be talked into selling clothes by local designers. Help the community. Lots of talented folks out here.”
My phone rang repeatedly, the same number I did not recognize. I twisted my lips, still not pressed to pick up. It was most likely a spam call if they didn’t leave a message. After the ringing ended, I got an alert for a text message.
Unknown: Pick up when I call, or your brother dies.
Well, that fucking got my attention. When the phone rang a third time. I picked up. “Who the fuck is this, and where is my fucking brother?”
Paul paused, counting our money for the night, and looked over to me with alarm. I didn’t have to guess which brother. Harris wouldn’t get in this kind of trouble.
“You don’t know me,” began an unfamiliar voice. It was male, and there was a slight local accent. “I go by Lopez, and I’m with Death Mask. Maybe you heard of us?”
Of course, I’d heard of them. They were an underground gang full of demons that caused mayhem from Baltimore to D.C. to Delaware. They conducted crimes in the open, killing innocent bystanders. They stole not only from the rich but from anyone, and they destroyed the businesses of the hardworking working class. My family never had any dealings with them, seeing the gang more as thugs. Orcs weren’t known to be classist or even ethical, but once my family reached wealth, we became selective regarding who we did business with. The risk grew larger the higher we rose, and we only indirectly had any connection to them.
“What is it that you want?” I growled.
“You know, things have been challenging since those witch bitches started cracking down more on us. We gotta do things differently. Get a little power boost. We need to take over this city and cut the coven down. Maybe force some to work for us. But we can’t do anything until we get more strength.”
Recently, our local witch coven increased its crackdown on paranormal-related crime. Although we had a paranormal crime police division, the coven worked alongside them. With the increase in crime prevention, gangs like Death Mask were seeing their endeavors thwarted.
He was dragging this out, and I needed him to get to the point. “I don’t give a damn about any of this shit. Is my brother alive?”
Lopez snickered. “He’s fine—for now. Now, be patient; I was about to get to my point. We found just the thing to help us. A particular demon we had connections with about fifteen ago. He was one of the best. Took a hundred years for his enemies to finally defeat him. We know that with our gang being stronger, he could get us to the top. Only problem is, he’s dead. So, we need to bring him back. Not an easy thing to do because he’s been gone so long, and he might not be in his right mind. So, we need a necromancer who has the power to restore the body and the mind.”
I’d heard there were necromancers with that skill level but never met any. They were at mythic levels. A well-known popular one had their own reality show, but they were constantly surrounded by protection. There was no way this group was getting him. I had skill in taking out or collecting such challenging targets, but even I was limited to what I could do.
I was hoping he was going to get to his point soon. If it was him expecting me to kidnap a celebrity necromancer to save my brother, it would take some time, and the likelihood of success would be low. I’d have a better chance of killing the necromancer than grabbing him.
Lopez continued. “Word on the street is the cops have been working with a local necromancer with high-level powers. She comes from a successful necromancing family. Works at a bakery in the city. I can text you the details.”
“And why would I care about those details?”
“We know your reputation, Marcus. I know what you can do. And if you want to see your brother alive again, you’re going to grab her.”
I ran a hand over my hair, frustration rising. How the hell had Sam got his ass grabbed by the Death Mask? When I got him back, I was going to strangle him. “I don’t get it. Why can’t you get her yourself? You don’t need my skills for that. She’s just a local baker. Her only powers are with the dead, so she shouldn’t be hard to grab.”
“One, she’s got some powerful friends, and two, we aren’t ready for the resurrection. ‘Til then, we don’t need that kind of heat on our ass. They won't look to you since you’ve been out of the game. Not to mention, having her around my people that long might not be the best… situation for her, and I need her in the right head space.”
He didn’t have to say what he meant. He was in a band of thugs, and a woman imprisoned by those demons wouldn’t survive what some asshole in that group would surely do. How thoughtful of him. He was still shit. “Why aren’t you ready for her to raise this thing?”
Lopez swore before answering, sounding annoyed. “Because getting the pieces of the body together will take time. They killed the demon and separated his parts.”
This sounded like a lot of work for a slim chance of getting any power-up. Who was this demon? “What’s the name of this demon you’re going after?”
“Don’t worry about that. Point is, you gotta grab her and hold her until we’re ready.”
This still made no sense that I had to get involved. “Why not wait to grab her when you’re ready?”
“Because we’re almost there, and we want her when we’re fucking ready, and she’s still easier to grab. Now, are you going to do this, or do we have to kill your brother?”
I kicked a nearby stool. I was trying to escape this life, but of course, I’d made my bed, and these surprises would keep popping up. I was a sitting duck without the protection of my family. Sam was always a risk being away from us and was the constant bane of our existence. Now I was no better, and we’d both gotten ourselves screwed. They knew I had the resources and wealth. Still, coming after us was a dumb move. “Did you reach out to my brother Harris?”
“Yeah, and your brother’s fucked up. He didn’t care. Look, all you got to do is grab the girl, give her to us when it’s time, and be done with it. We won’t ever bother you again. That’s a bonus.”
I knew my brother could be a piece of shit, but not to want to help our youngest brother was the lowest of the low. And I knew Death Mask wouldn’t leave us alone, but my bargaining power was low at this point. Yeah, I was going to kill Sam if they didn’t. “Fine, text me her details and location. And… Fuck you.”
I clicked off the phone and tossed it on a tray. “Can you watch the shop for a while? I need to take a leave of absence,” I stated, heading to the back to get my backpack I carried with me.
Paul appeared in front of me, his vampire speed leaving a wind that lifted the hair on my head. “Not so fast, brother. What the hell is going on?”
Paul was the closest friend I had. The only one, if we were being honest. Sure, I had acquaintances, but friends were just words in my life. You would be foolish if you trusted anyone. Paul had become the only person I trusted now. That included my brothers. I’d known him since we were kids. He’d had his criminal past, but it ended shortly after he became an adult. Since then, he’d been on the right side of the law and a good influence on me and others. And so, I told him of my predicament.
He crossed his arms across his chest, giving me a concerned look. “Fuck what that Lopez said. You need to tell Harris yourself.”
I shook my head, letting out a breath. “Even if Harris could get to Death Mask before they killed Sam, my brother wouldn’t bother. He turned his back on not just me but Sam as well. The only thing he cares about is the business. It’s 50/50 whether he’d even do anything about it. Probably blame Sam for not sticking with the family ways and being one of his peons.”
“Yeah, no offense, but Harris is an asshole. Still, I’d like to think better of him. Screw it. How about we just go and get him back? I know people, and I’m sure you still got contacts.”
“Paul, if we go after them, not only are we risking my brother’s life, especially if they find out that’s what we’re doing, but we’d also be starting a war. We don’t have the resources to take them out. My family does, but who knows if my brother would want to back me up. Plus, it would be best if you stayed out of that life. No, I’m in this on my own for now. If it’s just a simple swap, then I can move on.”
Paul scrunched his face in disapproval. “There’s nothing simple about kidnapping an innocent person. You don’t know what they’ll do with her. They could kill her if it doesn’t work, and if it does, they could do other things. Use her up. You don’t want that weighing on your conscious. I hate to say it, but what about the police?”
I snorted. “I doubt they’ll care about an orc from a crime family getting kidnapped. It’s too much of a risk.”
I rubbed my hands over my face. To say I was frustrated would be an understatement. Paul was right. I knew turning her over would be as bad as killing her myself. However, I didn’t want my brother dead either. Sam could be an idiot, but he was still good. He was the only one with relatively clean hands in the family. Although that bar was low, he had his own demons that made him a constant sore spot for us.
For now, I had to grab the girl and think of a way to get my brother and keep her from getting killed after she tried the resurrection. If nothing else, she was better off with me for now than someone else grabbing her. I guess I wasn’t meant to escape a life of crime.