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“How do we know this will work?” I asked for the tenth time since I entered the tattoo shop.
“We don’t,” Eli said.
"Helpful," I muttered. I was lying facedown on a table while a man who looked like he belonged in a black and white fifties movie prepared everything behind me. Dante was out in the front, pale and shaking.
He didn’t do well with needles.
“It is probably your best bet. If nothing else, Artie is an incredibly intelligent young man,” the man said.
“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” I asked.
“Azolata.”
“Mouthful.”
“I suppose.”
“What are you tattooing on me?”
“A rune of Artie’s making with my own input added.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Yes.”
I reached out my hand to Eli and silently begged him.
He rolled his eyes and turned his back on me. He left the cramped back room.
That hurt more than I wanted to admit.
When he came back, he had a chair in his hands and he settled near my shoulder. He offered his hand. I grasped it and was surprised at the warmth of his much larger hand.
“If there is anything about Azolata, he is honest,” Eli muttered.
“Try not to scream, please. It will scare your friend and my other customers,” Azolata said and I felt the warmth of his hands on my back.
"Oh, Jesus."
“Nice man. He did not require tattoos.”
Eli and I both turned to him but he pushed me back down before we could ask any questions.
The only warning I had was the buzz of the needle and the warmth of Azolata leaning over me. When I felt the needle touch my skin, I knew he wasn’t lying.
I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. It felt like liquid fire was being poured into every individual stroke of Azolata’s hand.
“I always wanted a tattoo,” Eli confessed.
“Not like this you don’t,” I gasped and gripped his hand.
“You are changing my mind,” Eli agreed.
“Shifters cannot have tattoos in the traditional manner. Or even this manner,” Azolata said and wiped ink from my back.
“Lucky them,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I suppose. But for those that do seek out a tattoo, for whatever reason, they have to use brands. I do not do that here. For that, I would take a shifter out into the woods and tie them down. They usually shift and attack on instinct,” Azolata said.
“I don’t want a tattoo anymore,” Eli whispered.
We all fell silent but Eli cradled my hand in both of his.
“Once Cee gets back here, you’ll feel better,” Eli promised when I gasped.
“I like your sister, big fan actually, but I doubt that.”
I was positively writhing under Azolata’s hand now. He was holding my shoulder down with one hand while his other worked the ink into my skin.
“Elias, wipe here,” Azolata ordered.
Eli let go of my hand and I felt his hand sweep over the excess ink.
“How much more?” I asked.
“I thought you said he was human,” Azolata grunted when I tried to pull away and almost succeeded. I was barely aware of my own struggles. The pain was overwhelming me down to the tips of my fingers and overshadowed everything else.
“He is,” Eli said and wiped away more ink. “Mostly. I think? I don’t know, ask Artie.”
I heard bells ringing from far away and wondered if I started hallucinating. When I heard voices quietly arguing and approaching us, I craned my neck to look past Eli’s shoulder and saw Celia and Artie entering the small room.
“Kill me,” I begged.
“No can do,” Celia said and crouched down so that she was level with my face and wiped my cheeks.
“Kill him.”
“I’ve tried. He’s really hard to kill,” she said and pushed my hair out of my face.
Artie crouched down next to Celia and smiled at me. “I saved you a donut.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Alpha Ortega, I need your assistance,” Azolata said.
Celia gave me one more small smile and left my field of vision.
“Hold his shoulders down. I’ll be connecting the lines and I fear he might react even more strongly than he has,” Azolata ordered.
I moaned.
“He’s almost done,” Artie promised.
“This is all your fault,” I said.
“I didn’t bite Dante.”
“I don’t care.”
“Okay,” Artie said agreeably.
I felt Celia’s warm hands brace my shoulders and then Azolata seemed to hesitate.
“Elias, come over here and keep him still. Artemio, you should excuse yourself,” he said.
“No. I think I’ll stay here with him,” Artie said and held onto my hand.
“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” I asked.
Artie pressed his lips into a thin line and pushed his glasses up on his nose. The fact that he didn’t answer worried me.
Celia’s hands tightened on my shoulders and I felt Eli brace against my hips, his warm fingers on my bare skin distracting me for a moment.
“Last line,” Azolata murmured.
For a moment, everything was clear and bright, like nothing else I had seen before. I could see every single strand of Artie’s hair, the scratch across the rim of his glasses, and the very faint scar on his forehead near his hairline.
Then the pain seemed to compound itself and I fainted.