Born To Be Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 3 (12 page)

Or the landlord was willing to let someone nicknamed “Death” slide on the rent, which I could totally understand.

The hallway ended with an industrial-strength door, and Death turned against it, hip-checking the door as she gave me another grin. It wasn’t a friendly grin, nor a sexual one, despite its hunger. But it was primal, and as she held the door for me, I felt my adrenaline jack. Passing that close to the woman—demigod, whatever she was—took way more chutz than I’d planned on pahing today.

If she noticed my nerves, Death didn’t mention it, instead nodding to the room beyond.

“Big enough room to smoke in, great ventilation,” she said, the odd accent to her voice strangely fitting for the large, utilitarian chamber. “Need it for the paint.”

The place was the size of a small airplane hangar, and the paint she referred to was being applied to vehicles—muscle cars, specifically, each of them surrounded with a bristling forest of airbrushing equipment, the cars themselves in various stages of heavy metal heaven.

“You do this too?” I asked, if only to fill the empty space around us with words. Behind me, I heard the flip of a lighter and the suck of smoke, but I couldn’t bring myself to face her directly.

“It’s what’s kept me away so long, you want to know the truth. Grab a chair.” Death hooked a folding chair with an easy grip and settled it next to a second chair, close enough that we could have been the first two attendees at a twelve-step meeting. Punching down my nerves, I pulled a different chair forward and sat opposite her, keeping five or so feet between us.

It wasn’t enough. I forced myself to not lean back as Death hunched forward toward me, her elbows on her knees, her hands dangling. The cigarette hung loosely from her fingers, and the smoke wafted up around her, too much smoke, really. Then again, I suspected she was probably dragging on something a little stronger than Marlboros.

“Car shows all over the goddamned country, you’d think I’d invented the art. ’Course, helps that I look like this.” She gestured to herself unselfconsciously. She had a point. She currently was doing a mean impression of Charlize Theron in full-on Mad Max attire, only taller. A lot taller. And without the metal arm. “Business is good.”

“And that matters?” The question could have been rude, but Death didn’t seem to mind. She grinned, and the only imperfection I’d been able to catch was visible, a slightly uneven smile, the teeth not perfectly straight. Not enough to detract from the overall severe beauty of her face, but enough to make her seem real, attainable.

Almost human.

I felt the frisson of connection stir between us, followed by the hiss of panic. Fortunately, she chose that moment to start talking.

“Matters enough. I’m having a good time. The ink, it comes and goes in waves. There’s always enough of the flash business to keep the front up, but the more intricate stuff has been getting a little out of hand recently.” She took another draw on the cigarette. It didn’t seem appropriate to suggest it might kill her. “Lot of Connecteds using ink these days. Think it’ll enhance their abilities.”

“And you help them with that?”

“Me? No. Council rules, remember? But that’s why I have Jimmy, and that’s how I keep tabs.” She waved her hand through a cloud of purple smoke. “Easier for me not to be super attached to the Council, though, given the circles I run in.”

I decided not to ask if there were nine of those circles. She didn’t give me a chance. “You know what I am. You want me to tell you what you are?”

“What? No,” I said automatically. Then I hesitated. “You can do that?”

“Could.” She shrugged. “Not what you’re here for. You want the map to Atlantis. Armaeus sent you.” She grinned as my gaze whipped to hers. “Been around a long time, sweetheart. He can’t read your mind because he hasn’t really tried. I can. It’s a good mind. You’ll need to work harder at shutting it down, but you can keep me out too if you stay focused.” She let her gaze trail down my face. “And you are my type, since you’re wondering.”

I felt the touch of her mind then, and blanked my thoughts. It was exactly what I did with Armaeus without thinking, but the effort was more challenging here. More intense.

“Good girl.”

“Do you have a name?” I asked, happy to move the conversation back to her. “Or do you only go by ‘Death’?”

“Not likely,” she snorted, rolling the cigarette. The smoke had turned a soft azure. “Most call me Blue, though I’ve been given the moniker Blue Ice for more formal occasions. Originally I was called Crow, so I guess I’m moving up in the world.”

“Banbh,” I said, pronouncing the word “banuhvuh.” Her quick grin told me I was correct. “That’s your accent, then. It’s Irish.”

“Close.” She grinned. “Now it’s a lot of nothing, sullied by centuries away from home.” She settled back on her chair, her long legs outstretched. For someone who’d been around since before recorded history, she looked surprisingly good. “But don’t call me Crow. Too many old memories. Blue is fine, and keeps things simple.”

She eyed me over her cigarette. “So, what has Armaeus told you about me?”

“Not much. He says you can help me get to Atlantis, or whatever is left of it. And he told me there’d be a price for it.”

“There’s always a price.” She shrugged. “Why Atlantis?”

I hesitated. She’d just been in my mind, but maybe she hadn’t looked around much. “Short version, weapons. He’s gearing up for the return of Viktor Dal to the Council. I’m gearing up to beat the crap out of Dal.”

“The dark mage.” Blue nodded. “That’s who took those children, the ones you have foremost in your mind. Six of them, ten years ago. Viktor was a busy boy.”

Irritation riffled through me. “Look, I get that six lives probably don’t mean a lot to you, given how long you’ve been doing…whatever it is you do. But they were kids, and they had families.”

She lifted a sardonic brow. “Families like yours?”

I bristled. “It doesn’t matter what kind. They were taken from their parents, their siblings, and put God knows where. I want them back. If going to Atlantis will help me confront Viktor and do that, I’m all in.”

“And if it won’t?”

“Then Armaeus wouldn’t be sending me there.”

“Fair enough.” Blue’s grimace was a grudging one. “And you’re not wrong, though the Magician is ever one for having multiple reasons to do everything. The weapons you gather from the ruins of Atlantis will help you achieve your goal. When it comes time, Armaeus will have very specific instructions for what he seeks. I’d advise that you follow his guidelines, and not to tarry. Atlantis is filled with both truth and deception, most of which would do better to stay where it is, buried out of time.”

“Okay.” I frowned, considering her words. “Why else is he sending me there?”

She dropped forward again, elbows on her knees. “When Armaeus ascended to his seat on the Arcana Council, he was barely a boy, for all that he’d lived to be a man. What he saw in the years since is what ruined him.”

“Ruined?” That didn’t sound right.

She shrugged. “You can’t look into the face of evil for so long and so hard without making some sacrifices.”

I sensed the truth of her words, but I wanted details. “What sacrifices has he made, exactly?”

“Not my tale to tell, but he’s taken precautions to protect himself. To protect the Council,” she said. “His immortality alone is a boon for that. It provides the ultimate safety.”

That was news. And a problem since Armaeus was now mortal. “It does?”

She smiled. “You’d wondered if Viktor had been raised to the Council deliberately. He was. The merest mortal is more capable of human depravity than any Council member is ever allowed. Yet as dark as Viktor is, he’ll never agree to become mortal again, not for an instant. The aging process commences, and he is far too vain for that. He ascended when he was already a man in his fifties. To him, his youth has already withered away.” She shook her head. “But for Armaeus, the need to remain immortal isn’t born of vanity. There are things he is capable of as a mortal that he cannot allow himself to do, not anymore. The world is a smaller place. It could not sustain such magic.”

“Right.” I thought of Mim’s horn and the feeling of utter bliss on Armaeus’s face as he consumed the last of the wine from it. Had his eyes seemed darker afterward? He remained under the influence of the rush of Llyr’s magic, but was there something more to him, now? “Well, let’s hear it for immortality.”

“Yep.” Blue stubbed out her cigarette. “You wanted a map, you said. Only it’s not quite a map. It’s more a… I guess you’d call it more of a key. Each to its own location.” She extended her sleeved arm and regarded it with a rueful smile. “Better than stamps in a passport, I’ll give you that.”

I stared, mesmerized by the artwork on her skin. Now that I could see it more closely, I realized it was almost moving in the shifting light and smoke. “Those are—those are all keys? To places like Atlantis?”

“You’ve seen the energy waves, right? That image is also stuck in your mind—and it should be. Armaeus was right to show you. We’re all interconnected on this plane, but we’re also interconnected with other planes. Where there are connections, there can be travel. Where there is travel, there can be transformation.” She lifted one shoulder, dropped it. “And I happen to be in the business of transformation.” She nodded back toward the tattoo rooms. “Let’s get yours started.”

Breathing a little shallowly, I stood and trailed her into the main rooms. It was only a tattoo, I reasoned to myself. People got tattoos all the time. It wasn’t a big deal.

Instead of angling toward the open doors, however, Blue stopped at a door midway along the corridor, marked with the number 3. She lifted her hand, placing it on the smooth wood, and closed her eyes for a moment. The door clicked open and swung wide. The room was dark beyond.

“Um—I didn’t bring any cash with me or anything to get a tattoo,” I said, edging away until Blue pinned me with her glance. “I can come back later if that’s better?”

“Nah.” She smiled. It wasn’t a good smile. “First walk is free.” She winked. “It’s the second one that’ll cost you.”

Chapter Nine

“Ordinarily, I’d place this on your upper arm, where it couldn’t be seen if you didn’t want it to be. But Atlantis is a special place. It deserves better.”

As she spoke, Blue moved around the compact space. It looked like any other tattoo setup—a chair that would make a dentist drool, a table filled with tools, stacks of books and papers sitting around. But as soon as she flipped the overhead light on, the detritus evaporated—all of it illusion. Only the chair and the tools remained.

“Keeps people from getting nervous, to have all that crap here,” Blue said, though I hadn’t asked. She gestured to the chair. “Go ahead and lose the hoodie. It’s not going to hurt, you know.”

“Sure.” I shucked my hoodie and got in the chair, my tank top meager protection against the chill in the air. “If it makes you feel better, I’m this way with easy chairs too. I’m not a fan.”

“You’ll be fine. The skin is thin at your wrist, so you’ll feel it, but it won’t be like a usual tattoo. With these, the pain comes later.”

“Oh, good.” I looked around the completely barren room as she lined up her equipment. The whir of the needle in its gun made my stomach clench. “I don’t suppose you have a strap of leather or something I can bite down on?”

“Extend your hand.”

Obligingly, I straightened the fingers of my right hand, the left now gripping its armrest. Death released a lever and swung the right armrest out, positioning my forearm in a wide angle as she scooted her stool to my side. I couldn’t see my arm anymore over her hunched shoulder, and jumped as she swabbed the skin below my wrist with something wet and medicinal smelling. “Fingers out, Sara,” she murmured. “Like this.”

The cool touch of her palm against mine practically shocked me off my chair, the electrical pulse almost as intense as Armaeus’s.

“A little warning next time,” I gritted out as she pressed my fingers down.

“I can see I didn’t spend nearly enough time in your mind,” was her only reply. Then the whir of the needle started up again. “Touching here. This won’t hurt, but you’ll think it does.”

“What kind of—” Then the tip of the needle hit my skin, and I blacked out.

Lights rushed back toward me as quickly as they’d fled, and I surged, fighting the fear, the panic, the despair, the—

“It’s over, Sara. Relax.”

Blue’s voice sounded way too far away, and I blinked my eyes open, my gaze swiveling around the room. We were in the main tattoo parlor, and no longer alone. Jimmy stood with his own eyes shining and round, swiveling his attention between me and Blue. My right arm hurt like hell, and a gauze bandage had been loosely secured to the skin above my palm. “You said it wouldn’t hurt.”

“I lied. Chin up, though. If you ever decide to get a regular tattoo, you probably won’t pass out. And when you get your second key, you’ll know what to expect.” She gestured to the bandage. “You can take that off. I didn’t want it to get damaged while we moved you.”

“How long have I been out?”

Jimmy was at my side with a water bottle, and I jumped again as another whirring noise started. This time it was only the chair moving upright, and I eyed the bandage warily as I slugged down the water. When I pulled the bottle away, I was surprised. I’d drained the thing. “Is it going to bleed?”

“No,” Blue said, her certainty bordering on laughter. “Keys tend to have a cauterizing effect. One of their many benefits, once you have it on you.”

“Yeah.” I slid a nail under the gauze and peeled it up, expecting to see my skin blackened and charred. Instead there was a raised design that hadn’t been inked into my skin so much as burned there with ink frosting, though not forcefully enough to be a brand. It was a slender, sinuous curve that looped around on itself, at once reminding me of an ocean wave without the typical jagged peak. If pressed, I wouldn’t be able to say what it was supposed to mean. I glanced up at her. “You couldn’t have just given me Hello Kitty?”

“In time.” Blue was leaning back against the wall of books, and Jimmy had retaken his position at the door. I decided to ask the question he was dying to know the answer to.