“I found the one.” Leaning closer, he shows me.
A winding serpent. I’d sketched it in under ten minutes. “You sure?” I say.
The soldier nods and answers without hesitation. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay,” I answer, get up and move to the computer up front. I click on the appointments screen and scroll down. “I can fit you in on Friday at five p.m.”
The soldier smiles. “Sounds great. I’ll be here.”
I click in his appointment, calling him “soldier/snake,” and close the screen. Then without another glance or thought, I get up and walk to my station.
I’d forgotten Eli was even in the shop. But he was. Hadn’t even moved from where I last saw him. I ignore him.
My clients come and go throughout the day. I don’t make much conversation. I do the art, and get done quickly. The sound of heartbeats rush through my head with such vigor, I have to really concentrate to block them out. Which, in turn, blocks everything else outand that’s fine by me, too. None of it’s easy though. Along with the thumping of heartbeats comes a thrill I can’t explain, and it shakes my whole body on the inside. I’m on edge, and I want to be alone. Vaguely do I recall inking a set of broken skeletal wings on the back of a very bony girl in her mid-twenties. That took a couple of hours. Staring at her back lined with drops of blood didn’t do much for my mood. But some small slice of my pride must still exist because in the end, despite all of the frustrations and distractions, my work still kicks ass. Call it vanity. Call it whatever the fuck you want.
I am just finishing up a Japanese verse on the flank of a young guy when Preacher walks in through the front door, followed by Eli’s brothers, sister, and Seth. My insides twinge; I haven’t seen Preacher and Estelle in a week maybe? I’ve lost track. My surrogate grandfather, wearing his signature plaid button-up long-sleeved shirt and jeans, catches my glance and holds it. I feel cold all of a sudden, and the hairs rise on my arms. Preacher’s eyes lock on to mine for several seconds, as if digging in my brain to find something. I feel like he’s busting me for smoking weed. He turns, and I can tell something’s up.
“Eligius?” Preacher calls.
Eli emerges from the back of the shop. “Yes, sir?” Heslides me a glance as he passes. His presence takes up the entire area. I forget he has that ability sometimes. Power. He reeks of it.
The old Gullah merely stares at Eli for several seconds; Eli returns the look. Without saying a word out loud, both leave Inksomnia, Luc and Phin following. Their expressions are unreadable.
I guess there’s enough of the old pathetic me left to actually care to ask, “What’s going on?”
Josie and Seth walk toward me. Josie watches me with depth. Precision. Weighs me. Large, cerulean blue eyes unblinking. But keeps silent.
Seth stops in front of me. His green eyes are solemn. “One of Capote’s nieces was killed last night.” Capote is an old Gullah, and Preacher’s cousin. Plays a wicked saxophone, too.
“Killed?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
Seth and Josie simply stare at me. No words. No explanation. Then, I know. I realize it means only one thing.
Vampires.
I meet their stare for several seconds, then return to what I’d been doing in silence.
“Oh, gosh,” Nyx says quietly. I glance at her. Now she’s wringing her hands and pacing, her face pinched in worry. The beat of her heart increases. “How awful. Poor Capote.” I think for a second Nyx is going to burst into tears.
Of course, Capote and Preacher are cousins, so the girl is related to Preacher as well.
A vampire killed a Gullah. This hasn’t happened in centuries, save Eli’s accident. The Duprés have always kept Savannah and Preacher’s kin safe. Valerian’s army is growing. Now, a young Gullah girl has been murdered.
What if I did it?
I continue cleaning my station until I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I glance up, it’s
A winding serpent. I’d sketched it in under ten minutes. “You sure?” I say.
The soldier nods and answers without hesitation. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay,” I answer, get up and move to the computer up front. I click on the appointments screen and scroll down. “I can fit you in on Friday at five p.m.”
The soldier smiles. “Sounds great. I’ll be here.”
I click in his appointment, calling him “soldier/snake,” and close the screen. Then without another glance or thought, I get up and walk to my station.
I’d forgotten Eli was even in the shop. But he was. Hadn’t even moved from where I last saw him. I ignore him.
My clients come and go throughout the day. I don’t make much conversation. I do the art, and get done quickly. The sound of heartbeats rush through my head with such vigor, I have to really concentrate to block them out. Which, in turn, blocks everything else outand that’s fine by me, too. None of it’s easy though. Along with the thumping of heartbeats comes a thrill I can’t explain, and it shakes my whole body on the inside. I’m on edge, and I want to be alone. Vaguely do I recall inking a set of broken skeletal wings on the back of a very bony girl in her mid-twenties. That took a couple of hours. Staring at her back lined with drops of blood didn’t do much for my mood. But some small slice of my pride must still exist because in the end, despite all of the frustrations and distractions, my work still kicks ass. Call it vanity. Call it whatever the fuck you want.
I am just finishing up a Japanese verse on the flank of a young guy when Preacher walks in through the front door, followed by Eli’s brothers, sister, and Seth. My insides twinge; I haven’t seen Preacher and Estelle in a week maybe? I’ve lost track. My surrogate grandfather, wearing his signature plaid button-up long-sleeved shirt and jeans, catches my glance and holds it. I feel cold all of a sudden, and the hairs rise on my arms. Preacher’s eyes lock on to mine for several seconds, as if digging in my brain to find something. I feel like he’s busting me for smoking weed. He turns, and I can tell something’s up.
“Eligius?” Preacher calls.
Eli emerges from the back of the shop. “Yes, sir?” Heslides me a glance as he passes. His presence takes up the entire area. I forget he has that ability sometimes. Power. He reeks of it.
The old Gullah merely stares at Eli for several seconds; Eli returns the look. Without saying a word out loud, both leave Inksomnia, Luc and Phin following. Their expressions are unreadable.
I guess there’s enough of the old pathetic me left to actually care to ask, “What’s going on?”
Josie and Seth walk toward me. Josie watches me with depth. Precision. Weighs me. Large, cerulean blue eyes unblinking. But keeps silent.
Seth stops in front of me. His green eyes are solemn. “One of Capote’s nieces was killed last night.” Capote is an old Gullah, and Preacher’s cousin. Plays a wicked saxophone, too.
“Killed?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
Seth and Josie simply stare at me. No words. No explanation. Then, I know. I realize it means only one thing.
Vampires.
I meet their stare for several seconds, then return to what I’d been doing in silence.
“Oh, gosh,” Nyx says quietly. I glance at her. Now she’s wringing her hands and pacing, her face pinched in worry. The beat of her heart increases. “How awful. Poor Capote.” I think for a second Nyx is going to burst into tears.
Of course, Capote and Preacher are cousins, so the girl is related to Preacher as well.
A vampire killed a Gullah. This hasn’t happened in centuries, save Eli’s accident. The Duprés have always kept Savannah and Preacher’s kin safe. Valerian’s army is growing. Now, a young Gullah girl has been murdered.
What if I did it?
I continue cleaning my station until I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I glance up, it’s
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