9. Salem
Chapter nine
Constantine pouts, all while holding onto a tattoo machine that is still in its packaging, unopened. “You don’t seem to understand how badass I could have made them look.” Which has me shaking my head, snorting out a laugh, unable to stop it. I can only imagine what I would have looked like if he had gotten his way and been the one tattooing me. That doesn’t stop me from feeling ridiculous as I sit in the small kitchen nook in an old tank top of Simon’s that seems to swallow me from its size as I wait to be tattooed by Simon.
Simon rolls his eyes and sits on a stool beside me as he waves an ink pen at him. “Magic infusion through the ink is the easiest and most effective way to go about it.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Tell him you want me to magic these into your skin! Constantine will have you looking like a toddler drew on you.” Simon leans forward towards Constantine and taps the box with his pen. “You have no business owning one of those.”
Constantine waggles his finger back at Simon. “I watched a tutorial damnit! I feel confident that I can handle it.”
“Nope.” I point at Constantine as he tosses the package onto the table. Constantine sits at the small table nook and crosses his arms, pouting again. I shake my head and smile at Simon. “Can you weave them in between my scars? Maybe blend my scars and wards in with tattoos so they aren’t as noticeable.” I could probably have Simon take the scars away or blend into them, but it felt wrong. They were a part of me, and I wanted to keep them, but I also knew most of the supernatural community didn’t have them because of healing. Being kept from your magic, and only having access to a small portion while in the recovery cells, made them heal enough not to let us die.
There is a heavy pause between us all. I know my scars aren’t for everyone, but they are mine. I get to decide what to do with them and will be proud because I earned them. The blade marks that line my forearms remind me of learning. We had to practice and learn to fight somehow. When certain prisoners were getting too old, they became disposable. Rather than death, they trained the new recruits. I was a 13-year-old girl who didn’t know what she was doing. I got a cut wrist to elbow along my left arm on my first day.
My body told the story of my survival. “I can blend into some of these? Maybe help make them disappear?” He runs his finger along the grooves of my shoulder’s scar. I can hear the sounds of a whiskey bottle being tipped back.
With a shake of my head. “No, go around them. They are part of me. Go around them, highlight them.” I move my eyes to meet Constantine. “Makes me look more badass,” I add a wink to keep it lighthearted. People still winked, right?
It feels strange to be in someone’s kitchen getting drawn on with a ballpoint pen and a man’s reassurance that they will look badass. The man certainly likes to throw that word around a lot. “What’s the plan after this?”
“Well, that depends on you. We might have 12 more hours before someone shows up trying to find you.” Constantine states as Simon hits a tickle spot, making me giggle slightly. “They are going to start here for sure. Getting a warrant to come onto a magical campus is difficult since the campus is technically alive. We can stay here until then, or I can take you to my realm.”
“Ooh, you got an entire realm?” We haven’t exactly had a lot of getting-to-know-your-birth-father time.
“Prince of Nightmares, I’ll have you know,” Constantine shrugs, adding. “More commonly called the Prince of Sloth, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I can better teach you about your powers in my realm, how to feed, and go into the veil, among other things. We can’t do a lot of the training here. Plus, we need my nightmares. They will help.”
I watch Simon as he moves to my forearm. “Did you seriously just write ‘thorns and roses’ on my arm?”
Simon shoots an unamused look at me. His eyes narrow slightly, and his lip purses. “I can’t draw.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Now it’s spelled to project the images from my head.”
Constantine slaps the table before pointing at Simon. “Knew it!”
“What are nightmares?” I question Constantine, not wanting to indulge in the childish antics of the two men.
“My nightmares help me control my realm. They hunt for me, gathering the energy from dreams. Slipping into daydreams and sleeping dreams and heightening emotions. Collecting it, powering the realm and me.” He motions to me with his hand. “You will have access as well.”
“Why?” The question slips out of my mouth faster than I intended. I square my shoulders. This is probably when the other shoe drops. The figuring out what is in this for him. He has known me for less than a full day, and I am gaining access to his realm. The whole thing feels off to me. Maybe my unpleasant memories of my original father have me questioning his intentions. The man wouldn’t be winning any Father of the Year awards.
Constantine tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “You’re my heir. My only heir. We only have a month to get you ready. I’m all in. The rest is up to you.” He shrugs his shoulders, then points at Simon. “And him with the paperwork’s end.”
Simon sets the pen down and glares at Constantine. “I will help with the paperwork needed for Black Rose. Nothing more.”
Constantine scoffs and looks at Simon and then at me. “Can you believe this guy? That’s about all the paperwork that matters. Getting Salem entered and in as a Blackthorne, so nobody fucks with her.” You can feel the temperature cool. His shadows flick over his skin like flames. “Your job at this school is helping make sure students are safe. Salem is your focus. Make it happen.”
Simon’s jaw flexes as he leans forward. “I work for Black Rose. I don’t work for you. If the ministry figures out we are working together, we all will be under a microscope. So the best move is to show you and pay to have someone fill all the paperwork out.”
Constantine rolls his eyes and places his elbows on the table, leaning forward into his hands. “Monica is always happy to do so.” He stops and looks at me. “She is my number two.” He narrows his eyes at me, pausing and making a humming noise. “I think she will like you. Who knows how they will respond, sometimes.”
I let out a snort of disbelief. “That’s not ominous at all.”
Constantine leans back once again into his chair. The wood creaks as he shrugs. “I made them, but they develop their own personality.”
My eyes widened once again. “You’re talking about your nightmares?”
“Yeah, when I created my realm, they were connected to it. Without the realm, they would perish. So they help keep the place running.” He gives a light smile. “You’ll see.”
My skin warms. Simon hovers his hands above where the pen marks are. I look down at my wrist and forearms and see briars and thorns seem to grow along my skin. They almost appear as if they are alive as they move. Everything is different shades of gray. Black roses bloomed to life before my eyes. I raise my eyebrow. “Do I give off black rose vibes?”
Simon shrugs. “You activated a magic that I was beginning to believe was fable here at Black Rose. Along with discovering you’re a Blackthorne. It seemed like fate.” He motions up to my shoulders, “Plus, they surround your scars, growing around and camouflaging your wards.”
The sound of loud knocking stops any further conversation. “MMPS! Open the door.”
The Ministry of Magic Protection Service–MMPS has found me. The damn Ministry has their police. “Maybe that’s what you were feeling. Can’t even use the damn FPS.” Simon states, scowling as we stand up. “At least they aren’t as tedious with their searches.”
My eyebrows arch up at Simon. “You run and hide from the law often?”
“Explain later!” Constantine extends his arms and motions for me to take his hands. “Sorry, I wanted to wait until you were ready before taking you.” He motions towards the door. “Choice is yours, the Ministry, or come with me.”
I give him an unamused look before letting out a snort. “Well, that’s not much of a choice.”
He raises his eyebrows and gives a half smile as he shrugs. “It’s still a choice.” He holds out his hand.
Is it, though? Death or inpatient hospitalization is waiting outside of Simon’s home currently. I would much rather put my faith into the unknown relationship, maybe starting it right by going with him. With a nod to him, I place my hand in Constantine’s. “Thanks for springing me,” I say to Simon with a wink.
“This isn’t goodbye; it’s more of a see you later,” Constantine states.
“Not to sound cold-hearted, but please get going.” Simon snaps his fingers, and his magic explodes through the house. “All evidence is gone. Now go, I have to deal with government officials.”