Inked

tagline.”
    “And?”
    And, I was going to lose my dignity. I was going to lose myself in her grief, if I stayed here one moment longer. “The point is to do good. To do the things no one else can do but you. Because of who you are.”
    “A Hunter,” she said.
    “Jean Kiss. Hunter Kiss.” I swallowed hard, filled with memories. My grandmother—her future self—had given me a similar lecture under the hot sun of the Mongolian steppes. I had been lost in time. Lost in every way. But she had been my anchor.
    “You’re not alone,” I said.
    Jean held my gaze. “And you, in your time?”
    I smiled faintly. “It worked out.”
    Silence drew thin and piercing between us, until finally she whispered, “If you do this wrong, a lot of people will suffer. Not just those kids, but their families.”
    “That’s why I need your help.”
    “A lot of people need help,” she muttered, wiping her eyes as both Zees rolled from the shadows bearing small bags. “But the Black Cat is something else.”
    “You said it’s complicated.”
    “She owns people. The right people. She specializes in compromising situations.”
    “And that matters during wartime?”
    “Wars don’t last forever. And some indiscretions are worse than others.”
    I studied her. “You’re not telling me everything. Why did she tattoo those children?”
    “All I’ve heard are rumors. No one wants to talk about her, not even the kids. And I’ve tried. She gets a hold on people. Not just with fear, but something deeper.” Jean made a hooking motion with her finger, and slashed the air. “You stop owning yourself when you work for that woman. The tattoo is her way of cementing the bond. She’s covered in them. Each one a life she controls.”
    “You knew this, and you let those kids near her?”
    Jean gave me an angry look. “It’s not like they asked for permission. And I wasn’t their babysitter. It just happened. You do what you can to survive. I’m sure she made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
    “Most predators do,” I retorted.
    Jean pushed away from the door and snatched up the bags that both Zees had left on the floor. The little demons watched her silently. She pointedly ignored them.
    “With or without you,” I said.
    She did not answer me. Just fished into the cloth bag and pulled out a handful of thin metal rods no longer than my pinky.
    “Flint,” Jean said absently, as though she hadn’t heard me. “More valuable than gold around here. Inflation has made cash almost worthless. People have to trade for goods. Canned food is always worth something. Just one of these flint rods, plus a couple tins of sardines will help the Bernsteins get back on their feet.”
    She began to leave, and hesitated, looking down at the floor, her hand on the knob, the wall—anywhere but at me. “Take a nap. We can’t leave until dawn.”
    I did not ask where we would be going. “Thank you.”
    “Not yet,” she said roughly, opening the door. “Not until everyone gets out of this alive.”
    She left. I stood for a long time, hearing her voice echo. Reading words inside my mind.
    Save them.
    I just wished I knew how.

7
    AAZ brought me a blanket and pillow, which I tossed on the floor. I tried to sleep—and I suppose I did, fitfully—because I would close my eyes only to open them with odd visions haunting my brain: Grant, his large hand sinking warm through my breastbone to hold my heart; or old man Ernie, covered in rivulets of blood that wriggled like red worms upon his stained white shirt, coiling tight until they resembled the tangled outlines of roses. And in another dream, the last, I found myself a giant, colossal as a mountain, sitting naked and cross-legged upon a peninsula while watching the pinprick lights of a distant city glitter far below me like stars. If I breathed hard I would call down storms. If I wept, I would flood the plains. If I cracked my knuckles, earthquakes would rip through the mountains and collapse stone upon the city. I knew this. It made me afraid, and excited.
    Frigid air caressed the back of my neck. I turned, ever so carefully, only to discover a pair of immense golden eyes floating within a sinuous trail of smoke. Blinking lazily at me. Smiling, even, but with cold and bitter humor. Lightning flashed within its body, burning with symbols: knots and coils, and tangled hearts.
    We are both Gods, whispered the golden-eyed creature. But they do not see us.
    Unless we make them, it added,