Tattoo Tango

The scariest thing about Will wasn’t his strange magick, nor his dark paths which defied conventional spatial rules, or even the way he had vague, approximate knowledge of the hidden surroundings. It was the fact that he wore two masks; one which hid his physical, ghastly demeanor from the human world, and one which shielded him from personal scrutiny. You just had to live with his blank stare until he decided you were worthy of his thoughts. However, as he was the only friend I had during this tumultuous period and given I was now afloat in a realm beyond my general understanding, I was willing to forgive whatever intrusive feelings of distrust I had with him. 
Even still, I was a little surprised when he finally approached me later that week to check up on me. He appeared - as is his style - in my backyard without ever having used the back door, fumbling as he came out behind some overgrowth poking behind the garage.
“Ffht. Pht. Damnit,” Will muttered, sweeping leaves off his sweater as I came outside to investigate the commotion.
“You could’ve just knocked dude,” I said flatly.
“Yes well uh, I was sure that my egress would’ve left me-” He squinted past me, searching past the facade of my house. “-errr, directly in your closet apparently? Whoopsie.” 
“Yeah, I definitely would’ve preferred that. What do you want, I’ve been trying to contact you for days.”
He met my scowl and beamed. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly, not too bad,” I lied. “I’ve been losing less and less sleep the past week, so. Guess I can’t complain.”
“Well, whatever the case, I have a proposition for you.”
I prepared for another one of his Doctor Who-esque spiels and felt my gut tighten. “Shoot.”
“Allow me to take you out for a gift of your choosing. As a small recompense for my leaving you in the dark this month.” He placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly, raising a brow apologetically. 
I shifted uncomfortably. Gifts weren’t exactly my thing, but he was offering. Plus he lived in a goddamned spooky mansion, he had to have some sort of treasure trove he whipped out for occasions like this.
“Fine. Let’s go downtown, and I’ll point when I see something I want. How’re you gonna pay though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you carry a wallet,” I grunted accusingly.
He withdrew a small leather pouch with what appeared to be folded legal tender inside and smiled proudly. “Not to worry, I actually found a nice little case of funds deep in the estate’s store rooms, about $2000. Don’t have a single thing to do with it! No idea how it got there either!” 
I fucking knew it! 
“Alright. I accept,” I said coolly. “But put that away, you don’t wanna wave that around in this neighborhood. 
----
As we took our trip downtown, my anger at Will subsided. I wasn’t a very confrontational person. I had a tendency to swallow my feelings after a time to the point they became negligible. And it was after all partially my fault for the sequence of events which led me here, and the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel like he couldn’t trust me to handle my own problems if he left me alone for any length of time. It came naturally to me, and in my mind I simply rationalized it as poor timing during even poorer circumstances.
Walking around also helped me clear my head of worry for a while. When he wasn’t annoying me with pointless observations on passersby, it was actually pretty fun talking to William about any given topic. He had a certain eagerness to learn more about humanity, asking me what our daily mundane rituals were like, what the best spots for food were, if our zoos had any cryptids, that sort of thing. He also listened to my incessant complaints about the latest social media ‘nontroversies’ (non-controversy, as it were) with such a level of earnestness that I almost thought he was joking, until I remembered he probably never had access to Twitter. Probably a good thing, now I’m thinking of it.
We finally reached the downtown area, where we found a chain of tattoo parlors I was invested in. I knew I didn’t have any kind of money to afford that sort of thing on my own, so I was going to take full advantage of Will’s gratuity. 
We stepped inside and looked around. It was a dingy but aesthetically-pleasing looking parlor, about as much as you’d expect from that type of establishment. An empty front desk was pushed towards the eastern wall, devoid of any employees, with a hilarious little plaque that said “HI, WELCOME TO HELL”. Above us, fluorescent light bulbs hummed tunelessly and highlighted an inappropriate number of scratches, peeling paint, and stains on the faded red walls. I nervously approached the desk and rapped on it several times. 
“Hello?” I looked back at Will who just gave an oblivious thumbs up.
Somewhere in the dark hallway beyond the desk, someone shuffled out. The tattooist was a woman of average height, with short dark hair punctuated by streaks of neon pink. Her tired eyes locked onto ours and a taught smile pushed onto her face, with slight effort. She could’ve been either 20 or 40.
“Yo. What can I do ya for,” she mumbled. 
Will opened his mouth to talk for me and I cut him off before he could say something embarrassing. “Yeah, I was just uhm, looking to get something inked on the back of my hand. Uh, is that possible? Did I need an appointment first or..?”
“Nah man, honestly I’m not super busy right now, so I can make some space.” She smiled again and searched my eyes, before settling her eyes somewhere below my waist. I didn’t know what it was, but something forced me to lock gazes for just a little too long. Her large eyes were just a little too lightless, a little too baggy underneath for me to feel the pull of conscious attraction. “You got some ID?”
After some idle chat we continued to the first room in the back hall, led to a somewhat cramped little space where Will plopped himself down and dug into a LIFE magazine. The tattooist had me sit down and began prepping my hand while she gathered her tools, giving the back of my hand a quick shave and sanitization. “So hun. This your first tattoo?” she asked absently, cleaning the needle. 
“Yeah. I’ve always wanted some sleeves, but never really had the money for it. And uh, well, I’m kinda afraid of the pain, if I’m being honest.”
She glanced at Will and then back at me before the hint of a smirk tugged her lips. “Ahuh, the first time is usually scary,” she mumbled. She pulled down her worn out Metallica shirt, showing off a smooth, pale breast and more noticeably, an elegantly inked depiction of a black rose of sorts. I lingered on that chasm for just a second too long before politely studying the artwork. 
“Huh. That’s dope. Where’d you get it from?” I asked.
The artist stared at me before pulling her shirt up abruptly. “Did it myself. I belonged to a uh, sorority of sorts way back. I was...doing not too well when they found me, I was homeless and had no family to fall back on. Heavy into drugs. But they cleaned me up, brought me in and got me back into school. Found out I had a talent for inking and started doing commissions on campus.” She clicked her tongue. “Never did end up graduating, but doing tats ain’t too bad.”
She was almost done prepping, grabbing my hand and tugging it gently in her direction while sitting beside the recliner. With the way she was positioned, her tit was pushing against my left arm. I had intrusive thoughts of being caught by my parents, being lectured about how unready I was for what I was about to do, how inappropriate it all was.
I sighed and tried to relax as I heard the needle buzz to life, choosing to subdue the rising pressure in my stomach. I heard Will clear his throat in the seat to my right. He’d been unusually quiet for most of the visit, which could either make you painfully aware of his presence, or not aware enough depending on if you paid attention.
“My apologies ma’am, but may I ask where you got that ring from?”
The woman looked up in confusion, glancing at the ring locked around her middle finger. The metal was rusted and the gem was a dark shade of purple. “Uh, this is just some shitty knick knack I found at a dollar store. Probably not even real.” She resumed her drawing stance.
Will sucked in his breath, nodding slightly. “Mm. I see. And does it always react with the light that way?”
All three of us glanced down at her ring. The thing was glowing with some strange light, one that cast no shadows upon my skin or hers. I looked up at Will, and then at the woman. “Uh. S’that a mood ring, or?” 
“Goddamnit. I knew you were one of them,” the tattooist grunted before standing up abruptly. Before I could even react, she sent the vibrating needle plunging into my throat between two entwined fingers. At least, it should have, but it instead exploded in a flash of sparks as a dark pole shape flashed past my face and exploded into the wall behind the woman. She whipped her face around and grimaced angrily, and ducked back out into the hallway. William launched himself over my seat, grabbing the pen stave he manifested out of the now ruined plaster.
“Yeah. I thought something seemed off; what kind of person carries around a hepatizon ring?” he chuckled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to my feet. “We have an ink witch trapped in here with us. I’m assuming you're armed, kiddo?”
I laughed incredulously. “Oh yeah dude, I totally - “
The lights all went off simultaneously, plunging the entire parlor into darkness.
“ - planned to have a shootout with psycho cult jerks while I’m fucking treating myself!” I shouted hysterically.
“Okay okay, well, no worries. It's two versus one, just stay close to me and we can corner her. I cursed the front and back doors before we went back here. Had a suspicion the moment I stepped foot inside here.”
“I’m soooo glad you realized it, like, 10 minutes late.”
As if on cue, a strange, tinny explosion roared from the front desk area. Small bits of plaster rained from the ceiling as the room shook. “FUCK YOU,” the tattooist’s enraged shriek echoed from the darkness of the building. Accompanying her roar were strange whispers, caressing first the frame of the door and then my ears. I felt the hairs on my arm stand up in anticipation.
“DOWN!” Will barked, and pushed hard onto my shoulder. Above us, the whispers suddenly grew in volume as a series of whistling projectiles soared into the opposite wall and into my chair. We got up and observed the attack; a mass of glistening, inky needles were embedded in both surfaces, puncturing straight through. On the air, I sensed the remnants of the whispers in my own throat - Sharp Winds, it was called. 
Will snorted and brandished his stave. “I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with an amateur here. She doesn’t even know how to send spells without speaking it first.” He pointed the bronze tip at one of the walls, tracing something unseen on the other side. His human mask slid off, revealing his two depthless eye sockets. Then, soundlessly, a sigil made of countless strands of ink manifested before his eyes, forming a sort of crosshair above his pen spear.
The resulting blast was so fast and powerful, it shook the floor beneath my boots and threw dust into my face. Recoiling slightly, I hazarded a glance through the massive trench carved into the wall, allowing us a look into the room adjacent to us. From the other side, the bewildered ink witch stared back at us; from what little light bled in through the shutters, one could see that her once vibrant hair was now tainted black with rivulets of living ink, obscuring her features. Save for her eyes, which were now bloodshot and wide in the darkness. 
“Oh, you little asswipe! I JUST did a patch job on this shithole,” she snarled. “TOFU! Kill these assholes!!”
Me and Will raised our brows simultaneously. “What the hell is a Tofu?” he grunted before something came scrambling at us from the corner of the room. A series of metallic shudders and groans rocked the wall. I ducked to the side, rushing for the counter to grab something for self defense. I watched in horror as some large, bipedal thing slapped Will’s weapon away at blinding speeds, causing it to rocket into the hall. As the two grappled, they smashed into the recliner’s built-in lamp, causing it to flicker on and point directly at the large shadow now pinning him to the chair.
The creature was tall, at least seven feet, even as it bent down to pin William. Its skeletal frame was cast upon the wall behind it, showing the gaps between its ribs. Patches of slick, wet fur draped across its body in irregular intervals, giving it the appearance of a half-decayed animal carcass. The head was something akin to a bird’s skull and beak, stretched to cartoonish lengths, balanced precariously on a thin spinal column. Its eyes were like Will’s, large and black, but expanded to an even more unsettling diameter. The skull lolled to one side, eyeballing me, as the beak fell open and let out a maddeningly-human giggle. 
“What the hell…” I wheezed in fear. 
“Jake - UNGH - don’t worry! I’ll deal with thih - ” Will struggled against the thing which grabbed his wrists with its own, skeletal human hands. I watched as my friend was slammed bodily and repeatedly into the floor, before being dragged fighting into an open vent in the wall it originally exploded from. Somehow that monster could squeeze itself into small spaces despite its size, bones crumbling and folding until they were sucked inward. The last I saw of Will was him flickering in an attempt to phase through the wall, but to no avail, vanishing head and shoulders first through the hole amidst the thing’s giggles.
I was alone. Somewhere in the hall, a light chuckle drifted towards me, leading deeper into the building. I found a pair of scissors among the rubble of the skirmish, silently cursing myself; I am not a runner. I’m a fighter. A half-assed one, but a fighter nonetheless.
As I traced my way to the front, I noticed that the door in the main area was entirely covered in a web of simmering ink, coating the walls adjacent and sizzling slightly. Clearly the witch couldn’t get past, meaning she was hiding somewhere near the back. 
“Alright alright. Come on,” I muttered as I double handed the stubby blades and made my way back. The lack of lights suddenly turned the mundane parlor into an avenue of strange shadows and lurking things. Out of my peripheral, all the designs pinned on the wall gave impressions of strange, gaping faces which watched my every move. Somewhere in the depths of the building, I could still hear the witch laughing.
My knuckles flashed white against the hard plastic. It was only after trekking carefully past the initial rooms - not making a single sound - that I realized I’d walked well past the length of the building’s interior floor plan. Somehow, the building was getting larger on the inside. An illusion? Or actual spatial tampering? Who knows, but the good news was I was used to it after being exposed to Will’s own isolated mansion and its esoteric tunnels between worlds. Which meant I had a slight advantage against our enemy.
After rounding what felt like the tenth right turn and realizing I was still in the same hallway, I finally ducked into a room that wasn’t initially there. Inside, I heard someone vehemently slamming on the walls. Will? I rushed inside, ready to try freeing him with whatever means necessary. Stupid mistake. Underneath, I felt a small sliding movement before I suddenly felt my legs lift out from under me. Upwards, in the air - I slammed hard on my back and felt the air rush out of me like a balloon. 
“Ugf!” A tongue of ink slithered away from me, glistening in the darkness despite no light source hitting it, and seeped into the wall where it took the shape of a silhouette. A female one, somehow so black it appeared as purple within the veil.
“Oh hun. Why are you hanging out with that asshole, huh? He tell you you were special or somethin’?” the tattooist’s voice echoed around the room. Behind me, the door slammed on its own as I lurched to my feet, pointing the scissors at the wall. One of the lamps upon the table flashed on, highlighting the ink shadow. It lecherously caressed its own outline, mimicking grotesque acts as it circled around the room, toying with me.
“You seem like a nice kid, really. But I can’t let you leave now, you know that right?” The shadow stood still, stroking its chest.
“Hey lady, y-you’re the one who attacked us. N-not really doin’ yourself any favors here.” My voice shook. Dealing with brainless monsters from alternate realities was one thing. But humans? That's another monster altogether. “Let my friend go, and I won’t kick your teeth in, alright?”
She sighed and chuckled. “Cute. Real stand up gentleman. You know, maybe my sisters were right. Maybe men are only good for breeding and keeping on a tight little leash. Catch.” At this, the air was disrupted by a hoop flying towards me from her outstretched hand. I ducked underneath, narrowly avoiding the throw. Unfortunately, either due to my lack of perception or misjudging the course of the attack, I moved my head back just an inch too far and the lasso snaked around my neck, yanking me forward face first into the parlor chair.
Before I could push myself off, I felt her body slam into mine and pin it in place. She gripped my wrists, straddling my waist and cutting off my air as she leaned towards my ear. Before I felt her, I could smell her; the stench of death. Of bitter sex. Of dark, bestial nights in the streets. I felt her breasts push into my back.
Fuck her
“The truth is sweetie, I dropped out cuz they forced me to. They did some shit to me, my sisters. They put something...in my head.” I felt her lift a hand up and stroke her hair. A drop of ink landed on my hand, twisting into strange shapes before floating back up and reforming with the locks dangling over my eye. “It hurt at first, but it was amazing. I tasted something greater than my old life.”
I sensed something. Her grip tightened unbearably, shackling me till I dropped the scissors. I sensed bitterness. “...Aaaand it was too much. I wanted more, so they showed me more. Brought me into their den, deep inside our little, insignificant city. They, they were -” 
The witch took a deep, shaky breath. “Bodies everywhere. Some of them being fucked ‘till they couldn’t move anymore. Some being tortured. Being forced to drink this black shit coming out of their skulls. Twisting their bodies into these things that couldn’t be alive. SHOULDN’T be alive. And they LOVED it. Goddamn, they just didn’t give two shits about the people they were hurting. And they told me I could have it all if I just abandoned humanity and drank wine with them.”
I grunted in pain, struggling long enough to twist in the chair so I was facing her. She pinned my wrists to my chest.
devour 
“Just sit - FUCKING sit still, Jesus.” She socked me in the jaw. It somehow packed more of a punch than I would’ve expected from her skinny little wrist. To my horror, she unzipped her jean shorts and pushed up against my face. Amidst my warped vision, rot stench made its home in my head. Soft, squelching noises rose from her groin: the visible patch of black hair on her waist turned into more curious strands of ink, inching slowly up to my face. I grimaced and turned away as much as I physically could. I reached down towards the floor blindly: she was being cocky, letting me flail helplessly in the dark.
“Just let me turn you into my pet. I promise I’ll take good care of you. Maybe I’ll even let you be friends with my precious Tofu. Just trust me: in this nightmare we call home, its more preferable to being alive,” she murmured sweetly. At this, her eyes rolled backward. “Communion”, her voice echoed in multitudes as the strands crept towards my orifices.
I yelped, using the pain as a motivator. Reach down. Find the scissors.
——
What does William see? As a wraith, its hard to explain how sight works without using vague, tangential phrases that seem unrelated to the subject’s biology. Sometimes, seeing is perceiving. Sometimes, its a simple matter of knowing. And mostly, its a matter of devouring whatever is in front of your face, down to the core essence of the thing.
William had none of these goals in mind as two very coarse and sturdy hands dragged his transmogrified and compacted body through a series of never-ending vent shafts. Had he been human, he was certain the traumatic experience would’ve proven hazardous. But wraiths do not feel pain, at least not conventionally. Instead he focused his Farsight on the rapidly fading outline of Jacob, who grew further and further away until he was just a blurry speck on an infinite horizon. Help would have to arrive a bit late. His main worry was that the beast - with its above average intelligence - would decide to leave Will stuck inside the vents, completely drained of ink. Which would most likely result in a very grim ending for all impacted parties.
So, mustering all his strength, he tried one last time to turn intangible. The beast, still effectively shackled to Will, turned intangible with him, and the two tumbled down between layers of moldy brickwork and plaster before they slammed into the sublevel.
Both entities scrambled to their feet and had their most strange standoff. Will, six foot and slender in physique, stood in calm contrast to the lumbering avian ghoul which chattered its teeth and gibbered endlessly. The two paced in a wide arc, slowly, gauging each other's capabilities; they were in some sort of storage room which hadn’t seen use in some time, judging by the dust now spreading through the room.
“Make your move, little bird,” Will chided. Cucui are sharp; they won’t attack if they don’t feel they have an advantage. Even still, the beast could sense Will was goading it while it still held the advantage. It was savoring the moment. 
Without warning it began dashing at the wraith, leaving trails of dust from the grimy basement floor, each time narrowly missing him with its skeletal claws. Will began to summon the spectral form of a sigil above his head, trails of ink running from his ocular cavities as he imagined the form of a word: Abyssal Harpoon. It probably would miss, but it was worth a shot tethering the thing somewhere he could finish it off.
The cucui let out a derisive, barking laugh and began to fold in on itself. It retreated into a darkened corner, shifting between unmarked crates, gas containers and shelves in a flurry of bone. 
“Ah hell,” William murmured. This would be a decisive battle. He focused the sigil like a crosshair all around the room, hoping to use the lack of sound as a guide. 
When the manic spirit launched itself from within a broken box, coiled like a spring, claws spread wide as if to hug him, he spun and took his shot. Dust and debris exploded everywhere, and somewhere in that cloud was the frantic sound of shrieking giggles.
The coarse hands once more seized William and took him for one more ride.''
——
My fingers brushed against the tip. Yes!!
The threads began making their way into my nostrils and mouth, invading me. They tasted like death, semen, blood, life, the best drug ever 
oh God, just kill me, 
it's terrible, it's suffocating.
Inexplicably, my fingers pinched around the scissors which should've been just barely out of reach. I could've sworn they practically flew into my hand somehow. Amidst a swarm of intrusive, animalistic thoughts telling me to perform every heinous act upon her, one stood out. I swung as hard as I could at her, the blades slipping from my fingers mid arc. For one heart-stopping moment, I felt and heard nothing as my vision began fading. And then miraculously the blades left their mark, clipping the side of her neck as I let go. As the pythoness reeled back hissing in pain, I used the moment to reach my hand up and grab her long bangs. It felt like sinking one’s hand into the warmest water, yet it was something you could grab.
To both of our surprise, I yanked as hard as I could, rocketing my forehead forward. I felt my skull shake as if an explosion went off, bouncing off her nose with a displeasing crunch as I slammed back into the chair. The momentum and force was enough she let go, falling backwards.
“ - How -?!” she yelped as she was flung to the floor. “How did you grab - ?” She raised her hand, preparing another midnight projectile. In the tattooist’s bloodshot eyes, I saw something flash. Fear and regret, mostly. “SKEWER THE C-NT,” she snarled.
I almost felt bad as I swung my boot into the side of her head, colliding with her temple with a sickening THUD. Suddenly, the lights flickered on. I was in the same room I started off in, with the only evidence of the skirmish being the massive hole carved through the wall earlier by Will. On the floor the sorceress groaned, clutching her head as blood pooled and coalesced with her inky locks underneath. I looked around, remembering where the monster from earlier had one-upped Will.
Use that stupid brain of yours.
In the corner of the opposite room, I saw it. Will’s pen spear lying underneath another chair, covered in various sketches. As I got to my feet again, the witch reached out from the floor, shrieking incoherently and swinging wildly, a black claw of indeterminate mass crawling at me through the air in slow motion. I ducked under, the talons grazing past the hairs on my head as they melted back into the aether. Guess she really was an amateur.
I caught my second wind and staggered into the other room, swiping the weapon up and striding with purpose back into the room with the witch. The thing was slender, cool to the touch and firm. Despite the explosiveness of its usage and the violence with which it was wrenched from Will’s hands, it looked like it suffered no marks or damage. I had no idea what it could do, but at that moment it didn’t really matter. I pointed it at the girl on the floor, leveling the brilliant tip with her forehead. She glanced around in a haze, finally settling on the nib. 
“Stay down, please,” I gasped. She grabbed the tip, clutching it so that the fine metal bit into her skin. That same look of frustration and uncertainty filled her eyes, daring me to finish the job. And trust me, I was strongly considering it. It’d be so easy to just shove it right down her throat.
A series of thuds, howls and scratches roared down the hallway. I turned to face the doorway, leaving the spear pointed at the witch’s head, expecting another brawl. She turned to look too. A pale and slender hand wrapped its way around the door frame. And then that monstrous bird skull peeked around, flopping comically and resting a single eye socket on us. 
And there he was, William See, holding the severed vertebrae of the creature in his hand! He strode fully around the corner, dropping the skull on the floor and straightening his tie as he strode to meet me. Despite the numerous black gashes riddling his chest, neck and face, he beamed his wide smile at me as he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Jake! You dealt with that wretch on your own? I knew I could count on you.” 
Me and the witch exchanged glances.
“You killed my Tofu,” she mumbled apathetically.
“Yes, well. It's been a while since I properly fought a cucui spirit, but my wits and charm took the win in the end.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes dramatically. He knelt down, studying both the witch and I with renewed coldness. “Today’s your lucky day, waif. You tell me what I want to know, I don’t take over for my friend and finish the job. Understood?”
The witch slowly stood up, sighing. The fight left her body as she collapsed back into the chair. She raised a bloody eyebrow at Will, slowly reaching into her back pocket and whipping out a spliff, lighting it and sinking into the cushion as she took a puff.
“Fuck me, just my luck. I try to settle -owww - down on my own for once in my life, and I get two rootin’ tootin’ Hunters on my ass.”
“Hunters?” I asked.
“They’re a hidden task force designed to put down otherworldly threats whenever they pop up. Who did you think was doing all the fighting and stopping the spread of bigger threats for us, bud?” he explained. “And trust me. They’re far scarier and FAR less forgiving than I can be.” He nodded at the witch, who blew out a cloud.
“I dunno,” I started. My mind flashed back to the massive red tower from the alternate world, before it deleted an entire town from reality. It’s words rung in my head: SEEK HIS KIN. “If literal gods are requesting our help specifically, I feel like we could use the backup.”
The witch glanced at me. “What would you know of gods, hun? Ain’t no gods in this world, except the one in hiding.”
Will bumped his elbow into the uplifted end of the staff, sending it careening closer to her throat, at which she slowly flinched. “Knock it off, I’m not in the mood for philosophy. Who are you working for, and where can we find them? Are you the one who keeps sending wights to ambush us?”
The woman took another puff, the contents clearly taking their effect as her eyes were now as red as apples. I imagine whatever she was feeling was preferable to the pain of having magick goop drowning her face constantly. “I...don’t work with anyone. I already told your sidekick here that I left my sisterhood. I could manage having weird, demonic shit shoved in my head, and manage the power it gave me. Even dear ol’ dead Big Bird over there I kinda grew to enjoy the company of. All the talk about fucking and torturing homeless dudes was another thing, I couldn’t get past that to begin with. But they were talking about other weird shit I had no clue about. Resurrecting their ‘Mom’ or something. Annabelle? Annalise? Some shit like that.”
Will cast a worried glance at me. “Aniloss,” he said definitively.
The witch leaned on one elbow and closed her eyes, shooting a wad of bloody snot out of her nose. “I dunno, whatever. Didn’t interest me after they told me to stick a metal rod through some business dude’s asshole and see what happens when he ain’t allowed to die. Necromancy is not something I would’ve thought to exist, till this” - she pointed at her hair - “became a thing. I mean hell, those girls could have blood orgies with their own guts and still be kickin’ it in the evening. I can’t even take a hit to the head without going down like a sack of potatoes, so clearly I’m not...not strong enough to hang around anyway. They’re only recruiting power players.”
Will pressured forward, ignoring me and leaning over her ominously, a shadow obscuring her pale form. “Yeah. And you know all about that, don’t you.”
“I heard some shit, yeah. I was only there for like, two or three weeks, but word got around quickly. They apparently picked up some homeless guy to mess with and uh snfff...he was just like us. I mean...like them. Had the black shit coming out of his head, golden crown shining out of it. Guy looked like he hadn’t bathed or slept in weeks, but he had energy to spare. Kept going on and on about the crap the ladies already did. I think he saw it like some sort of art show. He was insisting that things ‘could be done better’, promising them if they took care of his needs and wants, that he’d craft them a world of their own desires. So they cleaned ‘im up, started handing over their catches to him. I was gone not too long after that. I can’t remember where I fled from, I just woke up one morning passed out by the river. Things were getting darker and blurrier then. I don’t wanna think about it.”
I decided to jump in. “Hold on, you’re saying these kidnappings have been going on for potentially months now? Why hasn’t the police found out about these, and what does it have to do with the whole universe melting?”
“Do you honestly think the cops can, or WANT, to do anything about homeless folk disappearing? It's not just them either, pretty sure half the drug-dealers, small business owners, and odd highschooler vanishings have to do with those bitches too. But for some reason, nothing gets done. It's like Big Brother’s been using a giant eraser on any mention of supernatural suspicion in the city, nobody knows squat, everything goes back to normal. Wack.” She took another drag and closed her eyes as a small chuckle bubbled to her lips. 
“Wwaaackity wack. This guy, whoever he is? He’s doin’ something big. Cuz he wasn’t only taking prisoners from the streets. He was taking members of that outfit into his little corners. And when they came back out, they were missing their crowns, and the sludge that ran out of the holes in their skulls. Completely zombified, or dead. Nobody questioned shit, they just like, I dunno, went with it. You’ve got to be one bad ass mother fucker to take over a cult overnight, start offing your own members, and STILL have them follow your commands to a T. Huh, actually I think that's exactly how they work.”
Me and Will exchanged uncomfortable glances. In his black eyes, I saw some line of thought coil itself into one more query. What did this new creep want with the ink cult? It must’ve had something to do with the idea that realities were warping just outside our own realm due to further, unseen forces. If the space outside our world was entirely submerged in this ink, and the witches were using that same source for their own means...then this guy certainly had a stake in all of it. Which would explain why said worlds were being corrupted. But on such a massive scale? I didn’t know how that could be possible, even less so than William could foresee. Additionally, who was supplying the cult with all those fountain crowns? More mysteries about my tiny little world opened up and threatened to swallow us whole.
“Jake, what should we do with our captive? I for one, don’t think we should let her live,” Will chirped suddenly, locking me with his dark gaze. I jolted slightly, almost forgetting about the terrifying implement I held in my hands. I studied the girl. She was still sitting there in that cheap leather chair, ink running over her forehead and covering her bruises and cuts, blunt smoking between two shaking and small fingers. All of a sudden, this person who had just tried to kill me suddenly seemed a lot more pathetic and small than they previously seemed. A lot more human (or perhaps that's just being redundant). On one hand, my heart was telling me to push it down like I usually did, and just pretend it never happened. On the other hand, she DID almost just get done raping me mentally and physically.
So I did something I’ve never really had the liberty of doing before, and made a diplomatic and executive decision.
“Can you get rid of her fountain?” I asked? “I mean...she seems sorry. Are you sorry?”
“Yyyeah, I’m just about done with all this bullshit. It's all just trouble. Too much trouble.”
“Then can you get rid of it, Will. I bet her life will pick up a bit without all the mysticism and monsters haunting her. And if she turns back to uh, yknow. Then we can come back and finish the job.”
William nodded. I couldn’t tell if he was displeased with my decision or not, but I figured he’d respected my sudden change in priority.
“I can do it. But before that, I just have one more question.”
“Shoot, man,” the witch said softly.
“What is the name of the man you took in.”
At this, the woman let out a sharp rasp and shook her head. William shook his head in tandem with her, parodying her refusal with the accurate portrayal of a parent about to chastise their child.
“No what? No what? Answer me.”
“I can’t, I can’t. Can’t say his name.”
“What if I made you?” 
“I’ll fucking die, dude. Worse than that, actually. His name is cursed. Everyone who says it just goes poof, goes away. Bye bye. No second chances. I like those. I'd rather you rip this damned thing out of my head in one crunchy yank than risk dealing with whatever that guy's packin'. So you’re just gonna have to go off what little I know, what he went by when the sisterhood took him in. They called him the Painted Man.”
“What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I grunted. 
“You’ll know if you ever find him. And for your sake cutie, I hope you don’t. I really hope you don’t.”
I looked at Will and scowled anxiously. He sighed deeply.
"I know, I know. You're never accepting another gift from me again."
----
As recorded within The Estate
Category:Monsters
Category:NSFW
Category:William See