Eventide

now. No, hell-sir no. I got it. I’m cool.

I’m blankly staring at images as I sift through the pile of sketches Nyx handed me an hour ago. Dragons. Japanese symbols. Japanese symbols with dragons. Japanese symbols with flowers. Skull with a Ranger’s beret.

“Hey, Riley,” Nyx says from her station.

I glance at her and she’s smiling ear to ear. It irritates me. “Yeah?” I answer.

“Your ten-thirty appointment just called. They’re running a few minutes late.”

Damn. I hadn’t even heard the phone ring. “Thanks,” I say.

Just then the front door opens, and that raven above the jamb caws loudly. Swear to God, I’m going to yankthat fucker off the wall and throw it in the river next time I get the chance.

“Riley? This guy wants to talk to you,” Nyx says. She gives me another smile, all bright and cheery. Like nothing’s wrong with the world.

I set the sketches aside and walk over to the man waiting for me. He’s young, military, and gives me a nod and a wide smile. “Ma’am,” he offers politely as a greeting. “I was told I could get inked by no one other than you.”

Thump, thump.

The soldier’s young, vibrant heartbeat echoed inside my head.

I smile up at him. “You got something in mind?”

It’s warm enough inside the shop that I’m wearing a black Inksomnia tank, a pair of jeans and combat boots. The soldier checks out the dragons inked on my arms and smiles. “Sweet,” he says, continuing to admire the work. Or me. “I was thinking of a snake wrapped around my arm,” he says, “from here to here.” He points at his shoulder and elbow. “With my infantry number in the body.”

I nod. “I’m booked today, but check out the album over there”—I nod toward the image album on the coffee table—“and see if there’s anything in there you like. I’ll do a fast mock sketch and see what you think. Then we’ll set you up with an appointment.”

Soldier nods. “Cool.” He turns, finds the album, and plants himself on the sofa and begins his search.

I return to my station and pick up the sketches. In the back, I notice Eli leaning against the wall. Watching.

I ignore him and continue on with my meaningless task. I can’t believe I sit around and draw such stupid shit. God, the things people think they want inked forever into their skin. They are fucking clueless. Then, I’m interrupted.

Vic: It’s getting worse for you, isn’t it, love?

Me: Get out of my head, Victorian. I don’t want to hear it.

Vic: A piece of me lives inside of you, Riley. You cannot fool me. I can sense the mayhem. What else is happening?

Me: Nothing I can’t handle.

Silence.

Vic: Has my brother been contacting you?

Me: Maybe. Not really sure who it is. Or if they’re real. Like I said, I can handle it. Doin’ a fan- fucking-tastic time of it so far.

Vic: Riley.

Me: I’m losing chunks of time. They feel like dreams really, but then I physically realize I have lost time. Can’t remember what I’ve done, yet some things seem familiar.

Silence.

Vic: Christ, Riley. Let me help you before it’s too late. Please. I will take such good care of you. You’ll want or desire nothing, I vow it. I can give you such love, such pleasures, if you’ll only allow me to take you away.

Me: (laughing) Vic, you know I can’t allow that. No way am I leaving.

Vic: It’s taking you over, love. It will overpower you and there will be nothing left of the Riley Poe you know. It’s very close to succeeding even now. Please. Come with me. I am begging you.

Silence.

Me: Good-bye, Victorian. Leave me alone.

Vic: I will never leave you alone, Riley. Never. At least allow me a decent good- bye.

Me: What do you mean by that?

Vic: Meet me. Tonight. I won’t ask for another thing from you. I vow it.

Me: You do realize your mind whammy doesn’t work on me anymore, right?

Vic: Unfortunately, yes. I do realize. I only want to say good-bye.

Me: Yeah, right. Where do you want to meet?

Vic: I’m just across the river from you, love. At the Westin. Tower Suite.

Me: (laughing) Of course the tower suite. I’ll be there.

Vic: What time?

Me: When I get there.

*   *   *

“Ma’am?”

My eyes focus on the young soldier who is now standing in front of me, grinning.

“Yeah?” I say.

His face falls slightly, but he clears his throat and continues. He holds open a page in the sketches album. “I found the one.” Leaning closer, he shows me.

A winding serpent. I’d sketched it in under ten minutes. “You sure?” I say.

The soldier nods and answers without hesitation. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay,” I answer, get up and move to the computer up front. I click on the appointments screen and scroll down. “I can fit you in on Friday at five p.m.”

The soldier smiles. “Sounds great. I’ll be here.”

I click in his appointment, calling him “soldier/snake,” and close the screen. Then without another glance or thought, I get up and walk to my station.

I’d forgotten Eli was even in the shop. But he was. Hadn’t even moved from where I last saw him. I ignore him.

My clients come and go throughout the day. I don’t make much conversation. I do the art, and get done quickly. The sound of heartbeats rush through my head with such vigor, I have to really concentrate to block them out. Which, in turn, blocks everything else out and that’s fine by me, too. None of it’s easy though. Along with the thumping of heartbeats comes a thrill I can’t explain, and it shakes my whole body on the inside. I’m on edge, and I want to be alone. Vaguely do I recall inking a set of broken skeletal wings on the back of a very bony girl in her mid-twenties. That took a couple of hours. Staring at her back lined with drops of blood didn’t do much for my mood. But some small slice of my pride must still exist because in the end, despite all of the frustrations and distractions, my work still kicks ass. Call it vanity. Call it whatever the fuck you want.

I am just finishing up a Japanese verse on the flank of a young guy when Preacher walks in through the front door, followed by Eli’s brothers, sister, and Seth. My insides twinge; I haven’t seen Preacher and Estelle in a week maybe? I’ve lost track. My surrogate grandfather, wearing his signature plaid button-up long-sleeved shirt and jeans, catches my glance and holds it. I feel cold all of a sudden, and the hairs rise on my arms. Preacher’s eyes lock on to mine for several seconds, as if digging in my brain to find something. I feel like he’s busting me for smoking weed. He turns, and I can tell something’s up.

“Eligius?” Preacher calls.

Eli emerges from the back of the shop. “Yes, sir?” He slides me a glance as he passes. His presence takes up the entire area. I forget he has that ability sometimes. Power. He reeks of it.

The old Gullah merely stares at Eli for several seconds; Eli returns the look. Without saying a word out loud, both leave Inksomnia, Luc and Phin following. Their expressions are unreadable.

I guess there’s enough of the old pathetic me left to actually care to ask, “What’s going on?”

Josie and Seth walk toward me. Josie watches me with depth. Precision. Weighs me. Large, cerulean blue