Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross

Chapter 7

~VIOLET~

I filledin the final white touches on the face of the barn owl on the hip of my client Tia. She was Isadora’s best friend as well as Aunt Beryl’s niece, a Conduit witch, a healer like Isadora.

“I was going to work on a spell for Conduits next, for you and Iz, but I can’t help but feel like I have to work on the werewolves first.”

“And by feel, I assume you mean your magic is telling you so.” From her reclined position, Tia stretched her neck to watch my progress on her tattoo. Her shoulder-length black curls were pulled back with a red bandana folded as a headband. The white ink on her taupe skin was a beautiful contrast. And though the white ink would fade some as it always did, it would remain a striking image on her smooth skin. “Then that’s what you have to do,” she stated as fact.

“I’m working on it. I’ve been meditating on a vision I had earlier this week. I had it while tattooing Nico and talking about a scar he got from his wolf losing control.”

“Interesting. What was the vision?”

“It was all witch sign.” I paused, wiping the excess ink from her hip. “Like my magic was trying to voice the spell but through witch sign. And it wasn’t completely clear, so I was hoping to recapture it, but I haven’t yet.”

“Hmm. Does Jules have any books on witch sign?”

My head snapped up. “I’m an idiot.”

“Not most of the time.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.” Sitting back, I shook my head at my own stupidity. “We only have the rarest book of witch sign ever recorded. The Etymology and Definition of All Known Witch Sign by Marigold Lord. It’s a compilation of ancient knowledge and rare, even forbidden, witch sign. Ruben acquired it through Devraj when Mateo had that spell put on him and we needed help.”

“Well, there you go. Pull that sucker out and comb it till you find the answer. Aunt Beryl’s talked about that book, though she doesn’t own a copy. Your answer should be there.”

Feeling relieved, I finished Tia’s tattoo then cleaned and taped her up and wiped down the chair while she checked it out in the mirror.

“So cool, Violet. Your shading skills are killer.”

“Thanks.” I was really proud at how far I’d come from when I’d first started. It was good to hear her say that. “Let me walk you up front.”

I gave Tom a little wave as I passed the doorway of his partition. He’d come in after I’d already started on Tia. He was working on his artwork on his Mac for the website, which Livvy had asked for.

Livvy said a soft opening with family and friends as clients while she got our website up and running would be best. Let us get our feet wet slowly, then make a big splash on social media to reel in new clientele and line up the calendars. We were of course listening to Livvy, the PR expert.

As we ambled to the front, Sean was already eyeing Tia. “Where’s the tat?” he asked, dark eyes roving all over Tia. “Let’s see what you got.”

Tia laughed but pulled down the waist of her loose sweatpants anyway to show him.

“Ooo, nice.” He grinned, leaning forward on the counter. “So, you’re a witch, right?”

“What makes you think so?”

Narrowing his eyes, he assessed her carefully. Or seemed to be anyway. “You’ve got that aura of mystifying beauty.”

She smiled wide then licked and pursed her lips. “Bullshit.”

“What do you mean?” But he was laughing as she pulled out her credit card and set it on the counter.

“You’re a fucking grim. And you’re also a Blackwater, which means not only do you know every basic thing about everyone within a hundred-mile radius, but you probably know every deep dark secret about them, too.”

Henry Blackwater worked for Ruben. He was Sean’s older brother and seemed to collect every minute piece of information on every person living in the lower Garden District. He had his hands in everything but was also tied to no one.

I’d given his little brother a job here as a favor to Devraj who’d asked on Henry’s behalf for some reason. I was pretty sure it was paying back the favor for Henry’s help in that whole blood trafficking ring debacle.

And the fact that I knew Henry’s name made me utterly gleeful. Grims didn’t even like people knowing their names. They were…odd. The strangest of the supernaturals by far. They collected info like data-drive hoarders and yet wanted no one to know anything about them at all.

Sean rang Tia up, still grinning to himself. To be honest, he wore a perpetual grin. He reminded me of a jackal toying with his prey. I had no doubt that when he grew older he’d become less scavenger and more predatory.

“Tell me, Tia.” He handed back her credit card. “What does my aura do to you? What does it make you think about? Naughty things, right?” He winked.

Tia took the card and slipped it back into her bag then signed the receipt and asked me, “He’s not even eighteen yet?”

“Nope.”

“Get ready, Violet. You’re gonna have your hands full.”

“I already have my hands full. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

“That’s a lie,” interjected Sean, completely amused. “I talked two girls from my class into getting their bellies pierced when only one did at first. Doubled that sale.”

“Bye, Tia.” I waved her out the door. “Maybe you are useful,” I told him. “When you aren’t being a pain in the ass.”

“Maybe?” That perpetual smirk suddenly dropped, and his eyes darted toward the entrance.

“What?” I glanced toward the door, but no one was there.

“I think you should go get Nico,” he said steadily, his voice gone stone-cold.

“Nico isn’t home. Said he had errands to run before he came in today. What’s going on?”

But before Sean could say a word, the door opened, and four werewolves walked in. The guy in front was the blond I’d met with Nico that first night in Austin, the one he’d shown up at the party with. All four were covered in denim and leather and dripping with dominance.

Nico and I had never talked about his time with the pack in Austin or why he left. But something about the cold look in the blond’s eyes and Sean’s distinctly defensive stance had me labeling this little encounter an immediate threat.

Still, I wasn’t afraid. Sure, werewolves could rip out a witch’s throat faster than she could blink, but he’d have to actually reach me first. These guys had no idea what I was capable of, and I preferred it that way. Let them think that they were the actual threat and not me. Made things easier.

Blondie might’ve been putting off ultra-alpha vibes, but his aggression didn’t seem to be projected at me. I was suddenly thankful Nico was out of the office, running errands.

“Hello, there. Can I help you? We’re not open to walk-ins yet.”

His smile widened, reminding me how handsome he was. If he wasn’t stalking through my door, seeming to be looking for trouble, I’d say he was charming. The big werewolves behind him didn’t bother smiling or playing it cool. They stood at his back, searching the place as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack.

“Guys, this is a tattoo parlor not an ambush. Is there something I can help you with?”

Blondie whispered something over his shoulder then turned back to me, ambling closer. “Don’t mind them.”

All three of them took a seat on the sectional, stiff as boards and on full alert.

“Name please?” I asked again.

“It’s Shane. And you’re Violet Savoie.” His smile was sincere even as his gaze flicked around the room searchingly before returning back to me.

“Nico isn’t here, Shane. Would you like to leave him a message?”

He stepped forward, stopping inches from me, a little closer than I’d like, but I wasn’t about to show unnecessary aggression. Not unless I had to.

“I’m not here for him. I’m here for you.” His gaze swept over me, the brown of his eyes ringed in gold. “Is there some place we can talk?”

“Want me to call Nico?” Sean butted in.

Damn. That kid didn’t scare easy. These guys could rip him apart if they wanted to, but he didn’t bat an eye at their menacing stares.

“No need, Sean. We’ll be in my workspace.”

I led Shane into my room and toward a table with two chairs on either side. This is where I’d discuss the details of the tattoo my client was looking for. But rather than follow me, Shane stretched out in my reclining chair where I gave the tattoos, crossing his arms behind his head. Since it would’ve been stupid for me to sit at the table so far away, I sat in my rolling chair next to the recliner.

“What do you want?”

He chuckled. “Is that how you greet all your clients?”

“You’re not a client. You’re a former friend of my business partner who’s pissing all over my tattoo shop.”

“Not pissing yet,” he said, all teeth, his canines a tad long.

I crossed my arms. This dickweasel had his wolf half ready to shift while he had the audacity to sit and smile in my fucking chair.

“Look, Shane. I’m aware that you think you’re a big bad wolf and your coming in here with your pack of dogs is meant to be some sort of intimidating display of prowess. But I’m not intimidated. Or impressed. What the fuck do you want?”

His charming smile slipped. Good, dickhead. Now get to the point.

He sat up in the chair, dropping one leg to the floor where he hooked his boot on the bar of my rolling chair and hauled me closer. He was so damn lucky he’d done that slowly. I would’ve knocked him across the room if he’d reached out too fast. But this was strangely slow and…seductive? What the hell was all this alpha fanfare about?

“Word is,” he said, easing a hand onto the arm of my chair, “that you’re giving special tattoos to supernaturals.”

What the hell? How did he know that?

An incredulous “excuse me” was all that came out of my mouth.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Where’d you hear this?”

He gave me a not-so-nice smile. “On the SuperNet. Where else?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. The Supernatural Net, often called the SuperNet or SuperWeb, was an underground network that only supernaturals had the codes and access to. It was highly protected from hackers by the most brilliant grims in computer tech. If humans ever leaked through, they’d get a swift visit from a vampire who’d wipe their memories. And their hard drives.

“Oh, no.” It finally dawned on me. Livvy. We’d talked about advertising on the SuperNet, but not this soon. I wasn’t ready! What the hell? Shit, I needed to text her to pull that down.

I jolted as Shane stroked his index finger over the back of my wrist. He’d reached out while I’d zoned out, trying to figure out how the hell he knew.

I arched a brow at him, pushing my rolling stool a few inches back.

“Is it true?” he asked unflinchingly, golden eyes watchful.

I wasn’t sure why his wolf was on full alert or pushing him so hard right now, but that was another reason to make slow, calming movements.

“It’s not a big secret,” I finally said. “Though I didn’t know my sister had advertised yet.”

“So these tattoos are permanent spells, right? They can help supernaturals with what they want?”

“Look, I’ve only just perfected the charm for Auras. Each spell is specific to the supernatural and their magic. It’s not like I can permanently spell love potions or some shit like that. It doesn’t work that way.”

I was more than anxious to know what kind of charm a werewolf with that look of menace in his eyes might want.

He laughed cynically. “It’s not a love potion I want.”

“What is it you want exactly?”

He swiveled his legs around and planted them on the floor, leaning closer with his elbows on his knees.

“Have you created a spell for werewolves yet?” Before I could answer, he curled his lip with a touch of disgust. “Probably not. I’ll bet we’re lowest on your priorities.”

Offended, I crossed my arms and scowled back at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”

His expression went cold, rigid. “Known enough of your kind. The only way to get something we need from witches is to take it.”

The harsh words and icy tone rose the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Listen, Shane,” I said as calmly as I could, knowing his wolf was riding him hard at the moment. The last thing I needed was this guy and his buddies shifting into werewolves right now. Werewolves had to shift at least once a month at the full moon, but they didn’t need the moon to shift. One more reason they were feared and ostracized by most supernaturals. “This isn’t just a potion in a bottle you can take. It’s a complex incantation and a kind of magic that hasn’t been practiced in decades, maybe centuries.”

“And you’re the only one practicing it?” He lifted his brows, the menace leaking away with a note of amusement. This guy’s Jekyll and Hyde mood swings were giving me whiplash.

“I’m actually trying to figure out the right spell for werewolves right now. That’s what I’m currently working on.” I almost added jackass but was trying to keep him calm so I refrained from my normal name-calling. “Nico has volunteered to help me.”

Well, he never said as much exactly, but I knew he’d let me experiment on him till I got it right. Nico seemed to always help me when I needed it. My heart clenched at that thought.

“I’ll bet he has.” The darkness faded from Shane’s gaze, but it was still hard, unrelenting.

Wow, if I could bottle the amount of disdain in that sentence, it would fill twenty jars.

“I’m working on it,” I assured him. “It’s not easy, these spells. I have no one to teach me, so I’m figuring it out.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Give me a timeframe.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Because you’re lying,” he accused and stood abruptly.

“I’m not lying.”

“Need help in here?” It was Tom. Even though Shane had fifty pounds in muscle on him, Tom looked like he could and would take him if necessary. But I could take him and his pups up front if I needed to. Still, the heroic gesture made me want to hug Tom, even if he wasn’t the hugging type.

“We’re all good. Shane was just leaving.”

The werewolf latched his hand around my wrist, not to hurt but to get my attention. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure thing, Terminator. And I’ll be right here when you do.”

“You’re not afraid of me.” He actually sniffed the air. Probably was using his wolfie senses to detect my heartrate and so forth.

“Not at all.” I glared right back. “You should probably be afraid of me.”

An ancient vibration thrummed through my body, packing electricity in my pores as if I had a one-way connection to a lightning bolt. A shift in the air, emanating from me, billowed my hair off my shoulders. I popped my neck and exhaled slowly, willing the primal pulse of my magic to simmer. The Tarot empress tattoo on my forearm heated my skin.

Glancing down, I caught the slightest shift of her head and eyes, moving mystically, the inked moon above her brightening under my skin.

This was the first tattoo I’d given myself using charmed ink. It wasn’t until after I’d given myself the tattoo that an incantation came to me in a dream. It was the same night I’d held that book by Marigold Lord. Ever since then, the empress on my arm had become like a guardian, warning me when I needed to heed a particular vision or premonition. Or when danger was near. Like now.

Shane released my wrist with a huff, staring down at my arm with a bit of shock and surprise. This wolf had no idea who he was dealing with. That became more obvious when he belted out a cynical laugh, probably thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him or that I was only joking that he should be afraid. Or both. I wasn’t, but whatever.

With a clenching of his jaw and another death glare, he marched for the lobby. I followed him out then waited by the register until he and his goons had left the shop.

“Is that something we need to worry about?” asked Tom, appearing in the lobby.

“Nope,” I assured him.

“Good.” Then he returned to his workspace.

Sean glared at the door where they’d left, the stern expression so foreign to his usual demeanor. He looked a lot like his brother when he did that.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Want me to get Henry to watch the place?”

“No need. I can take care of it myself.”

“A single werewolf is dangerous,” he said, like I didn’t already know this. “A whole pack is lethal. I can guarantee you that those four aren’t the entire pack. There’ll be more.”

It was true. While all of the other supernaturals—witches, vampires, and grim reapers—had a solid governing body with hierarchy of heads of houses and covens, the werewolves did not. They were mostly loners except for those who traveled in packs, which was about as organized as they ever became.

“You can ask Henry to find out how many are in town. I’ll report to Jules.”

“On it.” He pulled out his phone and started texting.

While I was positive I could take on any number of werewolves all by my little self, I was also aware that a pack roaming New Orleans with trouble on their minds was not good. Jules was going to be pissed about this, and I could only imagine how Nico was going to react.