Poison Ink (26 page)

Katsuko pulled her legs up into an almost fetal position, lying on her side. She began to sob softly and Sammi lay across her, putting her arms around the girl.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Katsuko whispered.

Sammi’s heart broke for her, the horror of it coming to her all at once. What must it have been like to be a passenger in her own body, able to see out through her own eyes, aware of the things that her puppeteer had done to her body?

“You’ll be all right,” Sammi said. “We’ll all be okay, now.”

“You don’t know what I did. What I did, Sammi,” Katsuko whispered.

She opened her eyes, gaze full of anguish, and Sammi shook with relief to see the real Katsuko in those eyes. People always said that eyes were windows to the soul. Sammi held Katsuko close again.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll help the other girls now. Then we’ll all be together again.”

“And we’ll make the son of a bitch pay?” Katsuko asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Sammi scowled in disgust. “Oh yeah. Yes we will.”

Somewhere inside Skin Colors a clock ticked the seconds away. Sammi let the sound become white noise, focusing instead on the softer, more intimate whispers and moans that came from deep inside Katsuko. She cradled the girl in her arms, sitting on the floor of the tattoo shop, just holding Katsuko against her. The ugly behavior Sammi had seen had been only a fraction of the horrors the girl had performed with Dante pulling her strings, and more of those came out with every passing moment, as though Sammi had become her confessor. Katsuko and the others had caught up to girls in dark alleys and beaten and violated them. They had made whores of themselves for Dante’s amusement, debased themselves in ways that made Sammi physically ill, and descended into a maelstrom of drug use that would have intimidated the biggest coke fiend at Covington High.

All Sammi could do was hold Katsuko and tell her none of it had been her fault, that she had to treat it like a nightmare from which she’d awoken.

But the nightmare had not really ended. All through the long minutes when Sammi held the traumatized Katsuko, Rachael worked to eradicate the tattoo on the back of T.Q.’s neck. Zak had lifted the tall redhead from the floor. Already she had started to awaken, but she remained too disoriented and unable to function to fight him.

Sammi heard the hushed mutterings of Rachael and Zak. T.Q.’s tattoo had spread its poison vines in whorls and swirls down the girl’s back and over her collarbones and down onto her chest as well. The dark lines etched upon Katsuko’s skin had begun to fade, and Sammi expected that T.Q.’s would do the same, once the tattoo had been blotted out.

“I’m so sorry,” Katsuko said.

Sammi pulled back from their embrace and held her shoulders. Katsuko’s dark eyes were wide. Despite the sorrow in those eyes, Sammi felt so much hope at seeing them.

“You keep saying that. You don’t need to. Please.”

Katsuko took a breath and nodded. She seemed to be coming out of her shock somewhat as she glanced around the shop, ending on the table where Rachael continued working with the tattoo needle on the back of T.Q.’s neck. The machine whirred.

“What about the others?” Katsuko asked.

“What?” Zak asked, turning toward her.

But Katsuko wasn’t ready to talk to him. She turned to Sammi. “Letty and Caryn. What about them? How are we going to save them?”

“The same way,” Sammi said, smiling. “There’ll be five of us, now. We’ll get them down here together and we’ll hold them down if we have to.”

Katsuko nodded thoughtfully. She winced and reached up to touch her swollen, blood-encrusted nose.

“Sorry about that,” Sammi said.

“I had it coming.”

Sammi smiled at her, and Katsuko managed a thin, tired smile in return.

“What’s she saying?” Zak asked.

At first Sammi thought he meant Katsuko, but when she glanced up she saw Zak staring at T.Q. The redhead had her face down on the padded table and mumbled something muffled by the padding.

Rachael paused and pulled back the tattoo needle. T.Q. felt the release of pressure and her head lolled to one side. Her bleary gaze locked on Sammi immediately. Though she spoke as though in a trance, those eyes never wavered.

“Coming,” she said. “He’s coming. Riding fast.”

Sammi froze, staring at her. Abruptly she rose, pulling Katsuko to her feet and glancing quickly at the front door of the shop.

“Are you almost done?” she asked Rachael.

The diminutive artist shrugged. “Kind of hard to tell, but I think so.”

“Hurry.”

Zak raised both hands. “Um, hello? What was that? She’s totally whacked on painkillers. It’s gibberish—”

“No,” Katsuko said. “I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I.” Sammi rushed to the heavy drapes that hung across the front windows and peeked outside. A car passed, headlights washing over the shadowed pavement, but it did not even pause.

“What are you saying?” Rachael asked.

“I’m saying I think maybe when you cut the strings, the guy working the puppets is gonna notice,” Sammi said. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think he felt it.”

Zak swore, then tapped the table next to T.Q. “Rach, hurry up, honey.”

Rachael nodded. The tattoo needle whirred softly as she got back to work. A terrible quiet descended upon them. Zak and Sammi and Katsuko glanced back and forth at one another and at the front of the shop. Sammi opened the door into the storage room so she had a clear view of the back door.

“Maybe you should make sure it’s locked,” Katsuko said.

“I’ll check the front,” Zak said.

Sammi went into the storage room and tried the back door. The knob had a lock and there was a deadbolt as well. She tested it and found it secure. As she turned, her eye caught something in the corner next to a metal shelf full of art books and inkpots. Rachael kept shovels here for the wintertime. On the ground in front of the shovels was a gigantic bucket of ice melt. One shovel was for snow, but the other was a long garden tool with a square metal blade. Sammi figured Rachael must have used it for chopping ice.

When she went back into the studio, she had the shovel in hand. Rachael didn’t even look up from working on destroying T.Q.’s tattoo, but Zak’s eyes widened. Katsuko gave a small nod.

“Sammi?” a soft voice said.

The whir of the tattoo needle stopped. Rachael pulled back and they all looked at T.Q. Again she let her head loll to one side, but this time her expression had changed. Her eyes were slitted and her face contorted with such wretched sadness that for the first time, she looked ugly.

“T.Q.? Is that you?” Sammi asked.

“Oh my God,” the girl mumbled, her words slurred. “Oh my God.”

She managed to bring one hand up to cover her face. Katsuko went and sat beside her, talking softly and stroking her hair. Rachael paused for a moment and then set down the tattoo needle.

Sammi would have spoken, would have offered gratitude and apologies to Zak and Rachael and comfort to T.Q. But before she could utter a word, the whole shop trembled with the rising thunder of a passing motorcycle. Its engine roared, revving, and then it quieted to an idle for a moment before cutting out.

Katsuko and Sammi exchanged a glance.

“Is that him?” Zak asked.

Sammi looked at Rachael. “Call the police.”

She didn’t hesitate. Running to the small reception desk at the front, she picked up the phone and dialed. As frightened as she was, Rachael didn’t so much as tremble. None of this had anything to do with her. Not once had she tried to blame Sammi for dragging her into it. Now Sammi wished she could have gotten Rachael and Zak out of here before trouble arrived, but fate had not worked out that way. Desperation had driven her, and now it was too late to make other plans.

“Hello?” Rachael said, voice full of hope. Then she frowned. “Hello?” She dropped the phone into the cradle and turned to stare at Zak, only at Zak. For the first time, Sammi really saw the love between them—in their fear for one another.

“The line went dead,” Rachael said.

Sammi pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. “I’ve got no service.”

“What, he cut the line?” Zak asked.

“And blocked the cell signal? I don’t think so,” Katsuko said, voice full of loathing. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Magic,” T.Q. muttered from the table. “It’s magic.”

The shop seemed to shrink around them. Sammi felt as if the air had been sucked out of the place. They all stared at each other, trying to figure out what to do next.

“We should get the hell out of here,” Zak said, crossing to Rachael and taking her hand.

Sammi shook her head. “It’s too late for that.”

Zak spun on her. “He’s just one guy!”

“He won’t be alone,” Katsuko said.

Dread scurried like spiders down Sammi’s spine. No, Dante wouldn’t be alone. But what kind of magic might he really be capable of? So far it had all had to do with the tattoos, with symbols. Even in the Polaroids she’d seen at his studio, his dabbling in the occult all seemed to revolve around designs or runes or whatever the hell they were. He wasn’t some immortal sorcerer, just a sick bastard with a fetish for humiliating teenage girls. If Sammi had to bet on it—and she did—she’d be willing to wager that Dante could bleed.

Gripping the shovel, she turned to Zak.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s go. If we have to fight, better off in the street. Someone will hear. A car will go by. Someone will call the cops.”

Katsuko went to the padded table. She shook T.Q., whose eyes opened blearily.

“Hey. We’ve got to move, T. Can you get up?” T.Q. took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

Katsuko whispered, “Dante’s here.”

The words made T.Q. flinch, but the redhead started trying to push herself up into a sitting position. Katsuko helped her.

“I just want to go back,” T.Q. mumbled. “Back to before.”

We all do,
Sammi thought.
We all do.
T.Q. started to slump against Katsuko, who gave her a sharp slap to her face. For a few seconds, T.Q.’s gaze became perfectly clear. She slid off the table. Katsuko shot Sammi an expectant look.

Taking the cue, Sammi started for the front door.

Then faltered.

She’d heard a noise, a kind of squeak against the plate-glass window at the front of the shop. The heavy drapes hid the window from them, but the sound continued, increasing in volume and speed. Something dragged wetly on the glass, as though someone were cleaning it.

“He’s just a guy,” Katsuko spat. “Just a guy with a few nasty tricks. He’s not some friggin’ master sorcerer. He’s a sleazy son of a bitch who found a new way to get what he wanted.”

But they all stared at the drapes, listening to that scraping, squeaking noise, and no one took another step.

The tattoo machine died. The lightbulb in an antique lamp popped, startling them all. One by one, the lights went out, all except for the crystal fixture hanging from the ceiling, throwing its shadows around. When Sammi spun to look at Rachael and Zak, she thought what she saw on Rachael’s face was just another shadow.

She wished it were shadow.

Blood dripped from Rachael’s nostrils. As Sammi stared at her, and as Rachael reached up to touch the warm red on her lips, blood began to slip from the corners of her eyes like scarlet tears.

Rachael screamed.

“Rach!” Zak yelled. “Oh my God, Rach!”

But even as Zak reached for her, he froze, then touched one hand to his right ear, fingers coming away covered in his own blood. Sammi watched as streaks of blood began to run from his eyes and nostrils as well. She glanced over at Katsuko and T.Q. and they were bleeding, too, faces striped crimson.

Then Sammi tasted the copper tang of blood on her own lips.

“What’s he doing to us?” Rachael cried. T.Q. slid to the floor. Katsuko shouted in pain and reached up to clutch both sides of her head. Sammi felt it a moment later, a skull-crushing migraine that staggered her and made her drop the shovel to the floor with a clang. Rachael and Zak leaned on one another.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” Zak groaned, fighting the pain that afflicted them all.

But Katsuko tried to pull T.Q. up and could not, bent over with pain herself. Rachael began to wipe her hands all over her clothes, smearing her own blood on her shirt and pants, whispering what might have been prayers.

The squeaking against the glass continued.

Sammi knew she would collapse in a moment. With the strength going out of her legs, she staggered to the front of the shop and managed to bunch up the drapes in her fists.

She threw the drapes open.

Dante stood grinning at her on the other side of the plate-glass window. With his bare hands, he continued painting an intricate design on the window with numbers and arcane symbols surrounding it.

His palms were bleeding. He drew the hex upon the glass in his own blood.

Behind him, on the sidewalk, Letty and Caryn stood with lifeless, doll faces and dull, blank eyes, each with a long carving knife in one hand. The blades glinted in the light from the lantern in front of the shop.

Sammi fell to her knees in front of the window, stomach convulsing, and threw up blood.

Dante could not control her.

So he was killing her.