Inked

water?”
    “Yeah, hold on.” Jahn slipped into a back room and returned with a silver bowl.
    I glanced around the bar. At this time of morning, it was almost empty. I pulled the bowl to me and slowly breathed on the water. The energy of the Moon Mother coiled within me as I coaxed it awake, wending its way up my spine. A river of molten silver, it spread through the cells of my body, circling the spiraling tattoo on my shoulder blade. I slowly exhaled and a sparkling mist covered the water in the bowl, settling over the top of it like a thick fog on the lake.
    Jahn gave a little gasp, but said nothing.
    I glanced up at him, then back at the bowl and lowered my hand toward the mist, whispering softly. “Mist of the mountain, mist of the moon, show me the face of the one whom I seek. Moon Mother, grant me the power.”
    And then, the mist parted, rolling to the sides of the bowl, and there—in the water, was the face of the man I was hunting. Roche. He looked harsh, with a jagged scar over one eye that gave him a roguish look.
    “Now show us his true face,” I whispered, and waved my hand again. And the face in the water shifted, taking on a cruel, vindictive leer as his inner nature rose to the surface.
    Jahn took a quick step back. “He’s been in here, all right. I know that face, but I had no idea he was a member of the Guard Des’Estar. He’s a bad one.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?”
    “Three nights ago. He paid for a whore—the youngest we have, but she wasn’t young enough for him and I had to stop him from beating her.” Jahn grimaced, a look of distaste on his face. “I won’t hire women who are under the age of consent.”
    “You’re a good man, Jahn. And you haven’t seen him since?”
    “No, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been back. I spend most of my time behind the bar, not waiting tables, you know.” He stared at the face still lingering in the water. “Next time I see him, I’ll get word to you as soon as I can. You say he’s a murderer?”
    “Rape, murder, torture. A lot of things you don’t want to know about,” I said. “I wish I could cast a spell of Finding, but my magic doesn’t always work right. I’m sure you’ve heard about that.”
    “Yes, darlin’, I’ve heard,” Jahn said. He stopped suddenly, staring at the door. I heard it open as someone came in. “Damn it, what’s he doing back here?”
    I knew who it was. Without even seeing his face, his energy swirled in ahead of him like a whirlwind. The golden man. The man with jet skin and silver hair. The Svartan. And then, without a sound, he was standing next to me, staring at the scrying bowl. He looked from it, to me, then back to it.
    “Hunting?” he asked, his voice lazy.
    I slowly turned my head to lock his gaze. “What business is it of yours?”
    “I’ve seen your prey. Last night, as it so happens.” He slid onto the bar stool and casually snagged a handful of nuts from the bowl on the counter.
    “Where?” I clenched my fists on the counter. “What price do you want for the information?”
    Jahn put his hand on mine. “Darlin’, don’t go doing business with his kind—”
    “Excuse me, barkeep, but perhaps you’ll answer a question.” The Svartan’s voice was smooth.
    “What is it?” Jahn glared at him.
    “If you disapprove so much of me, why do you continue to accept my money?” The Svartan gave him a faint smile, both derisive and yet challenging.
    Jahn’s eyes were cold but he turned away. “Camille, use your head. I know you’ve got one. You’re too smart for the likes of him.”
    The Svartan slowly swiveled to face me. “I don’t need your money. But if you would accompany me to luncheon, I’d consider that acceptable payment.”
    My father would have a fit, but I wanted the information and this man could tell me what I needed to know. And I wanted to know more about him. He was hot, he fascinated me, and we had some odd connection—I could feel it there, hanging between us, though I had no idea just how or why it had formed.
    I swung off my bar stool and smoothed my skirt. “I don’t accept dinner invitations from nameless strangers.”
    He smiled then, a smile to melt the coldest of ice statues. His teeth gleamed, sparkling white. “The name is Trillian.”
    As he offered me his arm, I slowly placed my hand on his elbow and he escorted me out of the bar. Deep inside, I could feel a whisper saying I’d just sealed my fate.

    THE afternoon sun