then… it separated from my hand and floated in the air, coming to rest gently in the center of the magical circle inscribed in the glass.
'Oh. My. Word,' Alex breathed.
My hand stung a bit-it would still need a bit of healing, though not as much as if the pigment of tattoo had remained embedded in it-but I had no time to give it more than a quick glance before moving on. It was time to give Alex his tattoo.
'With a stable tattoo, I could have just transferred this through the air,' I said. 'But with a new tattoo like this one you need a stabilizing plate. Now, hold up your hand.'
'What?' Alex said, blinking as I picked up his hand gently and guided it to the back of the glass. 'Oh, my, you mean this is it-'
'Yes,' I said, positioning his hand carefully. 'The design will flow through the glass. That's why I had to ink it mirror-reversed, like a stamp. Here it comes.'
Then I guided Alex's wrist in. The tattoo glowed even more brightly, feeling the pull of virgin skin; then it detached from the glass and landed on his wrist, merging with the flesh. In moments the glow faded and the tattoo returned to normal, like it had been inked there-without the long healing period. And, after a moment, the watch hand started up, right on time, ticking out one 'second' for every sidereal second out of each turn of the Earth beneath the stars.
Alex stared down at his wrist, at the magical tattoo that I'd just transferred to him by purely magical means. Then, wordlessly, he proffered it to Valentine, who stared at it, eyes bugged as wide as the lens of the camera recording his reaction.
I leaned back in my chair, folded my arms, ostentatiously displaying my tattooing gun in my right hand. 'Let's see you do that, Valentine.'31. Time Is Running Out
I swaggered (well, limped) out into Reception, my spirits on top of the world, to find Annesthesia looking straight at the door I'd exited, worried, talking to Kring/L in hushed tones.
'I know, but they're filming,,' she said. 'I'm afraid if he calls again-'
'Who called?' I asked.
'Excuse me,' Alex said, stepping past me to hold the door for Valentine's wheelchair. He sounded worried.
'Is the old man all right? He's not taking this well?' I asked. Valentine slipped past me on the wheelchair, sound asleep, his breathing labored. As she passed, his nurse glared at me.
'If you knew you were going to crush him,' she said under her breath, 'you could have waited until he was healthy.'
I stared after her wordlessly as she and Alex wheeled Valentine out. When he was gone I said quietly, to no one in particular, 'If he was that sick someone should have said-'
'Damn fool,' the director said. 'It's my fault, pushing him to get a few shots in the can in time for the early promos. If I'd known he was so weak-still, an excellent show, Miss Frost. Assuming Doctor Valentine recovers, if he can top what you did here today, I'll eat my camera.'
'They're my cameras,' the lead cameraman said, dragging out a bag of equipment.
'It's the principle of the thing,' the director said, giving him a hand. Then, turning back to me, he added, 'We'll be in touch about the followup interview, Miss Frost.'
And I was left there, feeling like the world's biggest heel. Somehow the thing that bothered me most was that Alex hadn't even bothered to say goodbye-not even a curt 'Thank you for your time, Miss Frost.' He must be really worried about Valentine, pissed at me for winning so arrogantly-or both.
'Dakota,' Kring/L said quietly.
'What?' I said, refocusing on him and Anesthesia. 'Who?'
'Someone called Wulf,' she said. Her face was terrified. 'He was talking about a tattoo, but Dakota, I don't know, this guy sounds pretty fucking angry-'
'Did he leave a number?' I said, pulling out my phone and texting Jinx. I felt a sting of embarrassment that I'd done a tattoo for prize money while Wulf was waiting out in the cold, and the excuse of waiting on the Marquis's approval was growing thin.
'No,' she said.
'Well, star-sixty-nine the Marquis,' I said, thumbing rapidly: «Good news on Wulfs flash?»
'We can't do star-sixty-nine on this system,' Annesthesia said.
'Wait a minute, I think you can get the call log,' Kring/L said, picking up the phone and jabbing at it. 'You want the number-'
'No, call him and put him on speaker,' I said.
Jinx responded: «still waiting 4 marquis»
Damnit, how hard could this be? «Well, ping him,» I texted back. «Wulf is antsy.»
The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Finally Kring/L picked up the receiver and dropped it to disconnect the call. 'Nothing,' he said.
'Try again. He may be using a pay phone,' I said, thumbing rapidly. «Tell him it's urgent – Wulf has the shakes.»
«marquis!= speedy gonzalez» Jinx responded.
'For the love,' I said. What did '!=' even mean? «Speak English!»
The phone began ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Nothing. Just as Kring/L was reaching for the receiver, the line picked up and a haggard voice said cautiously: 'Yes?'
'Rogue Unicorn Tattooing Studio,' Annesthesia said cheerily. 'Please hold for-'
'Dakota Frost,' I said, picking up the receiver. 'Wulf? Is this Wulf?'
There was only static on the end of the line. Then, a guarded: 'Yes.'
'You called? Sorry, I was doing a tat-'
'And what of mine?' he snarled.
I swallowed. He was on edge, his voice shaking. 'I'm still getting it researched-'
'I am running out of time,' he snapped. 'I tire of these games, Dakota-'
'Wulf,' I said passionately, and it halted him. 'I haven't known you for a long time… but do you think I would game you?'
There was a long pause. 'No, Dakota.'
'I am checking with the graphomancers literally as we speak,' I said, texting «Hurry!» into my phone. 'But I would never do anything to hurt you.'
'Then why won't you-'
'You know the tattoo is Nazi, Wulf,' I said-and Kring/L's eyes widened.
'I know,' he said, voice quiet.
'So I have to know it's safe. I won't risk hurting you.' Now both Annesthesia and Kring/L raised their eyebrows. 'I can't just take it on faith. I have to know that it won't cause you harm.'
'Thank you, Dakota,' he said. 'I'd never hurt you either-but it's so hard to control myself, so close to the moon. The beast wants out. It wants me to change. It's so old now. So strong. So strong. I would never want to release that savage animal on you-'
'Spleen is dead,' I said. 'Savaged, by an animal.'
There was even longer pause. 'It wasn't me,' he said. 'It wasn't me-'
'I didn't say it was,' I said. I heard the panic in his voice and wished I couldn't empathize. But I'd felt that panic of everything closing in on me, of helplessness, of realizing I wasn't in control of anything. Still, I pushed him. I had to. 'But if not you-'
'My enemies,' he snarled over the phone. 'Damn them. Damn them!'
'Wulf…' I said. 'Who? Who are your enemies?'
'The Hunters,' he said. Even now, even with me believing he didn't kill Spleen, even knowing Philip believed that someone really had made trouble for him at the hospital, Wulf still came off like a conspiracy nut, with his assumed name and vaguely ascribed 'enemies.' 'They've been looking so long, so long. They're afraid of me. They never attack me directly. They just make it… difficult. Or attack my friends. Always my friends. All my friends. So I won't let myself have any friends.'
My phone buzzed: «marquis sez: 'safe, u impatient bitch'»
