Chapter Seven – Jack
Chapter Seven
Jack
Bella’s room had black-out curtains in true Vegas style. I had an amazing sense of time—and I could feel mine slipping away. It had to be almost pushing up on five. I’d spooned Bella until she’d overheated and rolled away from me, and I hadn’t chased her across the bed.
What was I going to do with her? I guess it depended on how much she hated me. I’d find out tonight.
I crept out of her bed and walked up to the line she’d drawn.
I didn’t feel anything. I waved a hand over it, and then I hopped over it entirely.
Whatever magic—if any—she’d mustered, didn’t work on me.
I wondered if any of her ‘magic’ worked at all.
I knew there were powers at large that most humans didn’t dream of—and I also knew if I ever told her I was a vampire, she’d go from the wild thing she was to some kind of groupie.
I backed away from the bed, waiting for her to wake up, and when she didn’t, I headed into the kitchen.
I got dressed in the entryway, popped the bottom lock on her door so it’d latch behind me, and then made sure it was after I closed the door, quietly testing the lock. It was solid—and when I looked at my phone I realized I was late.
I drove faster than I should have to get back to Dark Ink, guilt over leaving her chasing me—and the knowledge that every minute longer I was gone was one I might get caught.
As I pulled into Dark Ink’s parking lot I was almost as surprised to see Mark’s BMW there as I was to see Dark Ink’s ornately painted front windows, shattered.
Mark and Angela were standing in front of the damage. I leapt out of my car and slammed the door, running up, as Angela whirled.
“Jack!” Angela shouted, and stormed over to me. She was beautiful, she was always beautiful, but this time—her skirt wasn’t more than an inch down her hips and her sweater-top was unbuttoned almost down to her navel—she was sex on wheels.
“You!” she started, looking from me to the building. There were tears welling in her eyes and she raised her hand up to hit me.
I caught her wrist before she could—and a shock permeated through me, a whole-body lightning, like the bangles she wore had turned her arm into a battery. I stiffened, transfixed, then let go.
“Sorry—" I apologized, as Mark loomed.
“No,” she said, taking her arm back and touching it where I’d touched her. That shock—had she felt it too? Then she ran a hand through her tousled hair. “I don’t normally hit my employees—I just—I thought you were dead!”
I looked back at the front of the shop. “It’d take more than a little broken glass to kill me.”
“The alarm company called—you were supposed to be there!”
“We get lunch breaks. Look at the sign—" I pointed, and prayed she couldn’t smell the sex on me, like I could so clearly smell on her.
Mark cleared his throat. “All right—about this,” he began and went for his phone.
“What’re you doing?” Angela said.
“I’m calling the cops. And a repair shop.”
“Don’t do that.”
Both Mark and I looked at her. I was glad, I didn’t want to get tied up here too much longer, dawn was on the way—but this was clearly the act of vandals.
“Just—let me clean it up,” she said, and started over into the glass, teetering on her heels. Mark gave me a man-to-man look then.
“Angela,” I started, walking after her, “It’s my shift. I’ve got this.” I could call in some favors. I had an hour. And the dawn crew would be in shortly. “Go home.”
I reached her side and saw her crying, tears flowing down her face—but the entire rest of her body, the way her jaw was clenched, the set of her shoulders, her hands in fists by her side, said she was ready to attack. Crying—but angry.
“Angela, come on,” Mark said, rounding her up. He weighed twice what she did, he could pick her up and carry her out of here if he had to.
“I’ve got this,” I promised again, and she flashed me a look, nodding once, then followed Mark back to his car. I waited until they drove off, then I pulled out my phone.
Dawn crew was new artists who had to take what shifts they could get, and Mattie, who in another life had clearly been a farmer. I called all of them first, rousting most of them from bed, and Mattie arrived earliest like he always did.
“Hey!” he shouted from outside. “What the hell?”
“I know.” I’d collected the biggest shards into the trash, and had been working with a broom and dust-pan for half-an-hour. The glass had gotten into all the couch cushions—we’d have to go after them with a vacuum.
“Anything get stolen?”
“Not that I could tell.” They hadn’t taken the iPad we used to charge our clients, or broken into the office for the cash drawer. Everyone’s kits looked secure.
“Weird,” he said, stepping through the window to join me.
Mattie started his morning routine, making himself coffee with the hot water spigot and his French press, and turned on the radio, as I stood looking out the broken window.
The neighborhood we were in wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either—and on a chilly night like last night, most people would have had better things to do.
So was this personal? One of the newer artists?
People generally didn’t become tattoo artists because they played well with others.
I couldn’t help but think of Angela, barely clad and standing there pissed.
Mad because it was her business that’d been attacked?
Or mad—because it was a message meant for her?
Just like the one I’d seen her get from the LVMPD?
The jangly rock song on Mattie’s station ended, and the morning DJs took over.
News fresh from Summerlin—a violent murder on the corner of Verdant and Ambrosia. The victim was Bella Wintermichael –
The broom I’d been holding clattered as they went on, and Mattie emerged from the back. “Jack? You okay?”
I didn’t answer him as the DJs went on describing the scene. It must’ve just happened, mere minutes after I’d left her.
“You’ve had a long night,” Mattie said, coming up.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, remembering Bella’s worried eyes.
He clapped me on the back. “Go home. Get some rest. We’ll get this cleaned up, me and the boys.”
I nodded, and walked out to my car in a fog. Oh Bella, what did I let happen to you?
Bella had chosen me to protect her, I’d ignored her, and—what if she’d been right, and I was the most evil thing in her life?
I’d figure out who she’d been scared of—and I’d make them pay in ways they never dreamed. My hunger pulsed inside me like a super nova. It’d been so long since I’d let it go—but at the thought of the carnage I’d wreak on Bella’s behalf, my fangs began to bud.
A piece of glass outside spun away from my boot, distracting me from my bloody daydreams. I watched it twirl, then knelt down to pick it up—it had a flourish from Dark Ink’s blue and gold letter D.
I’d never forgive myself for what’d happened with Bella—but if anything happened to Angela—my hand tensed and the glass nicked me.
I watched it bleed for a moment, then threw the glass far away before bringing my hand to my mouth. I never wasted blood—not even my own.
And tomorrow night I’d be drinking someone else’s.