Word of Honor, Book 2 (42 page)

He hoped he and those images would soon be parting ways. He smirked as people moved about, some like they were going to piss themselves. Suddenly a tall, thin man with a large, black, sloppy bun atop his head and a pencil shoved through it like some bone approached him and extended his hand. They shook hands, and then the man brought him close and gave him a fast hug, shocking the hell out of him.

“What’s up, man. I take it you’re Aaron?” he joked, knowing full well who he was.

Aaron smiled as he looked around the place and then back at him. “Yeah…I’m Aaron Pike.”

“Come on back to my private room, okay? You’re attracting some attention you don’t need.” Julian Savant winked and grabbed a large black and amethyst velvet bag of what Aaron assumed were supplies.

Aaron trailed behind him. The man unlocked a door and led him inside, closing and locking the thing back behind them. “Have a seat.”

Van Halen kept crooning…

Aaron sat down upon a black leather stool and rubbed the clamminess on his palms off on his jeans. He took a look at the artwork, expansive mirrors, and a few bottles of what looked like herbs of some sort.

He’s a fuckin’ hippie; a talented hippie, but a crunchy granola eater all the same…

He chuckled to himself.

“So, I spoke to Milan. She and Mia are out shopping still. That means we’ll never see them again.” Julian burst out laughing and shook his head. “She was so happy to see your wife again as I’m sure you saw. It’s been a long time. They’re good friends. I’ve heard about Mia every day since the moment they got back in touch.”

Aaron nodded and leaned back a bit, itching for a cigarette – but he heeded the, ‘No Smoking’ sign on the door.

“You alright, man?” Julian asked, his pierced brow raised as he moved about the room, preparing his works along the tray like some skilled surgeon. Fleetwood Mac now blasted ‘The Chain’ in his ears.

“Yeah… just eager to do something about this shit, man.” He sighed. “A little distracted I guess. I’m grateful to be here, glad that you decided to at least take a look.”

“Of course, man. I live for things like this. I cleared the entire weekend for you… knew you had quite a few that needed to be addressed.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure if anything can be done at all, actually.”

Julian nodded. “Well, let’s see. I’ve only seen a handful of tattoos that I could do absolutely nothing with, in regards to a cover up. Take your shirt off. Anything on your legs?” He turned away, gathering more materials.

“Yeah, my right calf, the side of my foot. My neck…” He pointed to the swastikas by his damn jugular. “They’re the ones I worry about most.”

“What’s that zipper tattoo on you mean to you? What does it represent?” Julian asked as he ran water in a small pitcher.

“It means I’m a creation of Frankenstein, an abomination. Not human, piecemealed together, pretending to have a conscience. It means that I don’t feel anything… ’cause I don’t. And when you look inside me, unzip me, you never know what you’re going to find…”

They looked at one another for a spell before Julian turned away once again.

“I want to keep that one; it reminds me of where I came from. I never want to forget.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. It looks good actually, and the spiritual implications of that are wise. Whoever made that did a respectable job.”

Aaron nodded in agreement.

“Alright, you already sent me photos of your body art, and I’ve got some ideas based on our conversations on the phone.” He walked up to him and looked him over, placing a latex-gloved hand against his skin, examining each and every piece of work on his body. “Damn.” Julian grimaced as he got up close and personal, his dark brows bunched. “Some of these are layered over and over… like the artist was doing touch ups every damn few months. This is crazy. Look, the ink is so damn dark that I’m goin’ to have to get pretty creative… I can’t just blend and shade some of these out; I’ll have to use the lines as part of the pivotal parts of the design. No problem, though. I’ll figure it out. Now.” He stood back erect and looked down at him. “When we spoke on the phone, you said that you’re into your heritage, which I understand to be English, right?”

“Yeah, I traced my family tree some years ago. My biological mother and father are both descendants of the Kingdom of Essex.”

“I see you know your history… makes sense considering your background.”

“Yes, I had a DNA test done, too. There’s a little Welsh in my bloodline, obviously from the U.K., too, and a touch of Russian, but it’s mostly English.”

“Okay, got it. I know your interests also revolve around your beautiful wife and your daughter.” Aaron nodded in agreement. “You love your job…run your own business, like me.” He grinned.

“Yup. I take a lot of pride in my family and my work.”

“I’m sure you do. And you’ve got a baby on the way… Congrats, man.” They slapped hands, real easy like.

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to him being born.” He couldn’t hide his smile. Every time he thought about his son growing inside of Mia, he couldn’t contain his exuberance.

“Okay.” Julian stated on a heavy sigh. “You have several swastikas, the huge Nazi war eagle, the SS bolts, Hitler’s portrait, the SS death head, the sun cross, the iron cross, and the Valknot which will be the most difficult to cover due to all of the red around it and intricate details.”

“How’d you know what they all are, I mean the exact name? You don’t seem to be the type that would know this sort of a thing?” Aaron smirked as he stood and slid his pants down so the man could see his legs, too.

“Man, I live in Georgia!” They both burst out laughing. “No, seriously, I’ve seen some here and there. I study and read a lot, too, Aaron. Learning is a hobby of mine.”

We’ve got something in common…

“Knowing about things is important, even about dogmata we may not agree with.”

“I totally agree with you there. I’m the exact same way.”

“You by far have the most professional ones I’ve ever seen though.” The man cocked his head to the side and nodded, as if mulling over his statement. “I can tell that someone took pleasure in their work when they did them for you. All of your tattoos are well drawn, and for the most part, accurate in dimension and detail. I’m used to seeing the racially motivated prison tattoos…or the ones that keep tally of the, well, let’s call them the dearly departed… like those swords on your abdomen…”

Aaron slowly looked down at the nine small swords…

…Add five more…

“I take it you want those covered up as well?” Julian asked as he tore a couple of paper towels off a larger roll, appearing not at all uneasy with what was transpiring.

“Yeah…”

They both paused to study each another.

“Look, I’m not going to ask you the details, try to get you to incriminate yourself. We both know what they are,” Julian said. “I accept that you’ve made amends for the situation, I don’t know your complete story but unfortunately, with extremists such as yourself, this is common. Very few things surprise me anymore, Aaron. We all have our prices to pay…”

Aaron traced the blades of the swords…

“Hold up.” Julian briefly closed his eyes and waved his arm around like some referee. “In some strange way, you kinda still want them, don’t you?” Julian sat down in a seat and rolled over to him. Leaning forward, he rested his hands under his chin, similarly to the way Dr. Owens would.

Aaron just kept on staring back at him, then cracked his knuckles and turned away.

“It’s okay, man. What we talk about stays right between these four walls.” A few moments of silence passed.

“Yeah, I kind of still want them.”

Julian slowly nodded. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can we have a discussion? I’m talking
real
talk. Man to man.”

“Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you already know my background. I explained it to you over the phone. I’ve been doin’ what I do for a long ass time, Aaron. I meet all sorts of people. I can read people. Not read minds or anything like that, but I’m in tune with human pain…and you, my friend, are a pain junkie.”

“What do you mean by pain junkie?”

“You enjoy violence of an extreme nature. Death to you is like life for others. You find peace in it, passion. Your wires are crossed. That makes you dangerous because you’re also intelligent.”

Aaron huffed and turned away. “You must be Dr. Owens’ son…”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Continue. This is kind of interesting, actually.”

“You strike me as someone with a military background. Is that true?”

“No, though I had considered it when I was younger.”

“You’ve been told that before though, haven’t you? Several times, perhaps more.”

“Yes.”

“You have a disturbing quiet about you, even when you’re roaring inside. I can tell that you are precise, accurate, and controlled. Once you figure out how you’re going to handle something, you follow it to the letter. You’re a plotter, a schemer and manipulator. You have an assassin’s mind. You will stop at nothing to get what you want.”

Aaron clicked his tongue against his tooth as he smirked and enjoyed the man’s profiling that brought all his darkness to the fore.

“Don’t they call that a type A personality?” He grinned, knowing full well what Julian was getting at.

“No, Aaron. This goes way beyond that.” The man’s brows rutted as if he’d suddenly realized he sat in the presence of a demon. “You scare people, not just because of the way you look, but because of the energy you put out. It’s precise, yet scattered. It’s functional, yet useless. You are a contradiction, which draws people to you, as well as terrifies and repulses them. And that’s just how you like it…”

“If that is in fact who I am, then why would you agree to do this for me, huh?” He grimaced and threw up his hands. “Money is obviously not the incentive. You’ve got a waiting list that goes out over a year. You’ve been featured in countless magazines now; you don’t need someone like me.”

“Because my energy is attracted to yours right now, so that means I’m supposed to be here, and so are you.” He bumped his fingertips together. “We are to learn something from one another. It is no coincidence that Mia and Milan know one another and that led us to meet. It is no coincidence that one of the most dangerous minds in this country is sitting in my parlor.”

“Dangerous mind?” Aaron chuckled. “You give me far too much credit, man.”

“No, I don’t give you
enough
. You know that you’re powerful, but you don’t think about it anymore – it’s just second nature. You have a disconnect between your conscious and your spirit.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are able to turn off empathy, Aaron. That would make the tattoo of the zipper on your shoulder real. That’s why I’m glad that you’re keeping it… it will always be a part of you. It should remind you to be more humane, more loving. But here is the funny thing about a zipper – it can go up, lock off the rest of the world, or it can come down, and let love and light in. It’s
never
permanent…”

“Well, mine’s stuck.”

Julian burst out laughing. “A born and bred slayer with a sense of humor… gotta love it.” He shook his head. “Hey, when is your birthday?”

Aaron cocked his head to the side, puzzled by the question, but answered it nevertheless. “May 21
^st
.”

“Oh…my…word. Shit!” Julian cracked up and slapped his knee as if he’d been told something truly outstanding. “No wonder. You’re a Gemini on a Taurus cusp.”

“I don’t pay attention to shit like that. What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are the zodiac communicator. When war is about to strike, you either calm the masses or drive them into a frenzy. No one can beat you at this; you were born into it. You are the king of this sort of thing. You lead with words and then orchestrate your will in a deceptively beautiful way. Some philosophies call it the ‘Dictator Mind.’ You control others by making them believe they are in their own jurisdiction, when it in fact it would be you pulling the strings the entire time. You’re a puppeteer, and your tongue, your slick vernacular, are the strings you use to pull your marionettes in the direction you want them to go. People like you typically are created due to trauma in their youth.”

“Interesting…you sure Mia hasn’t been tellin’ your wife my business?” Aaron smirked.

“Positive! I promise you that I am just standing here, picking these things up on my own.”

Aaron cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter. “So, tell me more about the astrology aspect.”

“You are the only cusp that, through verbal word, or rather, song, speech, or poetry, can influence great masses with little to no effort. It is your second nature, so if something, say, terrible happened to you as a kid, you will use this in the same way to cope. Once you realize it works, you will remember it, perfect it, and continue using your powers of persuasion. Does any of this make sense to you or do you think I’m grasping at straws?”

“Julian, I have no reason to really think you’re blowin’ smoke up my ass. I said kind of as a joke earlier that I don’t pay attention to this sort of thing, when in fact, I just don’t know enough about it to say either way.”

Julian nodded in understanding. “Fair enough. Thank you for your honesty.”

“Of course. What I
can
say is that while I was involved with the Socialist Movement, yes, it was my job to discuss crucial matters with large audiences and enforce our will in as quiet a way as possible. What you’re describing is what was happening. I also learned during my time in prison, while seeing a psychiatrist, that this was a gift of mine. I’d agree that I’ve always had it. I hid the fact that I used to like to write things, stories, ideas, and thoughts out on paper. I didn’t want to be made fun of, so I kept it to myself.”

Julian crossed his arms but said nothing.

“What you are saying makes sense and is detailed enough for me to believe that it wasn’t just a lucky guess. I’ll have to check into this astrology shit you like.”