I agreed wholeheartedly with him, but I felt his anxiety bordered on loony bin crazy. I wasn't entirely sure why Emrys had brought me to this freak house when we were supposed to be at a tattoo parlor.
"I thought people in China ate bugs," I stated in a dry tone, giving no indication that I myself had been scared of bugs just a few minutes ago.
"I don't eat that shit. Give me McDonald's," Anthony grunted.
"So, my friend E here says you want a tat. You think you're tough enough?" he asked in a condescending voice, obviously put off from my comment.
"Well, considering the fact that I could kick your ass and your friendE'sass with my eyes closed, I'd say so," I snipped out, not liking his tone. I stood in front of his hulking girth, not flinching.
He surprised me by throwing his head back and bellowing out a hearty belly laugh. "You've got some steel balls," he said, pushing himself up from the couch and lumbering away from us. Reaching the far side of the room, he touched a discreet panel that was hidden to the naked eye. A vacuum-sealed door swung open with a splash of color tantalizing our eyes from beyond.
I gasped at the mirage of color that contradicted the stark whiteness of the room we were standing in. Stepping closer, I tried to peer around Anthony so I could get a better look in the space. Anthony stepped fully into the room, allowing Emrys and me to step in behind him. My mouth fell open once inside. Every square inch of the walls, ceiling and floors was filled with intricate airbrushed landscapes. Dozens of dragons, witches, goblins, fairies, and every other mystical being you could dream up were woven into the designs. Some were hidden behind trees in the landscape while others lurked in front of castles or villages. The detail was awe-inspiring and was clearly the same hand that had tattooed Emrys.
"Pretty amazing, huh?" Emrys breathed in my ear, making me shiver with awareness.
"It's pretty cool," I teased. "Especially after the freak show out there."
"Watch it, missy, or I might just tattoo a demon on your snarky ass," Anthony warned as he started pulling out supplies from the long airbrushed camouflaged cabinet that ran the length of one of the walls.
Why would he say that? What does he know about me?
"Relax. He only means since you're acting like a tough ass," Emrys mumbled for my ears only. He must have noticed the way I suddenly tensed up.
It was just the surprise of hearing someone outside of my circle refer to Daemons. Even so, the idea of actually having one tattooed on my ass was downright puke-worthy.
"Only if I'm kicking the demon's ass," I replied.
"Sweetheart, ain't no one doing that. They're vapor, nothing of substance," Anthony answered, pointing to the only chair in the room. I looked at the chair appraisingly, not even aware it was there until he pointed it out. Like the cabinet, it was just another extension of the same airbrushing that covered the walls.
"This really is amazing," I admitted, studying the chair. "Why hide it?"
"I have my reasons," Anthony answered, his genial tone gone.
Emrys shot me a warning glance. Biting back a sarcastic comment, I settled in the chair. It probably wasn't wise to piss off an artist before he permanently put his ink stamp on my skin. >"She died giving birth to me," he answered, wrapping his arms around my midriff.
"Shit, I'm sorry. That's total suckage," I replied, trying to control my breathing and not focus on how good his touch felt.
"It wasn't too bad. My dad was a great guy. He worked hard, didn't drink, and didn't beat me. He was a hero in my eyes. He taught me the difference between right and wrong and how to be a respectful man."
I was dying to ask him what had changed all that. How had his soul been stuck in limbo if he was a good guy?
"What about you? What's the deal with your parents?" he asked with a sudden hard edge in his voice.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Not much to tell. They died in a car accident last year. Our car went off an embankment and landed in a lake. I was the only survivor. If you can call it that," I added sarcastically.
"What do you mean?"
"I essentially drowned. My brain went without oxygen for too long. I lost every memory of who I was."
"I see," he said in an oddly strangled voice.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked suspiciously.
"Just seems odd to lose all your memories like that. You don't have an inkling of your parents at all?"
"No." I waited for him to comment, but he remained silent as we watched the sun slowly rising just beyond the buildings. From our vantage point, the sunrise was breathtaking.
"It's amazing," I commented, watching the rays spread out.