0.6-The Asylum Interviews: Trixie (2 page)

“Sorry,” I said with a sheepish grin. “Jo’s the lead guitarist and Daisy is the drummer.”

“You . . . you dated a vampire?”

“Yes, and I hired a troll. Apparently I like living life on the edge.” Bronx narrowed his eyes on me and I laughed. “It’s not as dangerous as people like to think. Jo has never been much of a free-range feeder, not since they enacted all those laws and set up blood banks.”

Bronx frowned. “But accidents happen.”

“True, but I never put myself in a position for those so-called accidents. You don’t have a problem with blood suckers, do you?”

“Absolutely not!” Bronx snapped, straightening in his chair. For the first time since I had met him, he looked offended and pissed.

“It’s just that . . .” I prompted, waiting for him to continue.

“Sorry,” Bronx said, deflating in his chair. “Who you date is your business. I just haven’t had many encounters with vampires, only those at TAPSS.”

“Yeah, well they aren’t a good representation. I’ve yet to have an enjoyable conversation with someone from TAPSS. Jo is much cooler.”

I couldn’t blame him for his distaste for vampires if the only time he talked to them was in relation to TAPSS. The Tattoo Artists and Potion Stirrers Society was a total pain in the ass under the best of circumstances and a nightmare under the worst. And for some bizarre reason, it seemed that most of the TAPSS employees were vampires despite the fact that they were nearly impossible to tattoo. I thought it had something to do with their meticulous, obsessive-compulsive nature.

Our conversation died off as the music increased in volume, making it harder to hear each other. I was content to sip on a beer and watch Jo play her guitar. She was beautiful and intense, her focus entirely on the song she was playing. She almost never looked at the audience jumping and cheering in front of her. Jo didn’t sing, leaving that job up to Royce, with Kevin, the bass player, supplying backup vocals.

Dead Playthings performed for roughly ninety minutes, including one encore set of three songs. As the house lights came up, I drained the last of my second beer and pulled out my cell phone to check the time. We still had several hours until sunrise, plenty of time to get Bronx back to the shop so he could pick up his car. The troll had to be safely ensconced in his house and away from the sunlight or risk being turned to stone.

“You mind if we hang back for a little while? Jo wanted to talk,” I asked, as Bronx started to rise from his chair.

The troll pushed to his feet and stretched, twisting his back as if to get the kinks out of his spine. “No problem. You want me to wait out in the main bar area?”

“No. I’d like to introduce you.”

“And keeping me here means that you’ve got someone to watch your back in case it gets serious.” Bronx was far too astute for my liking.

“Actually, I think that if you’re here I’ll be less likely to make a bad decision. Maybe.”

Bronx smiled at me as he settled back on his seat. “I’d be happy to meet her.”

“I guess I should have warned you that a job at Asylum would include occasional wingman duties.”

“This is my first wingman job in eighteen months. Either you don’t need a wingman, or you have a pretty sad social life.”

“Like yours is any better.”

Jo exited the door near the stage and was approaching our table with a wide grin, saving me from Bronx’s retort. I slid off of my seat and met her halfway to our table with a hug. She squeezed me back with a giggle and then returned to my table with me, her arm wrapped around my waist as she pressed close.

“Bronx, this is an old friend of mine, Josephina,” I introduced, the stupid grin magically returning to my face.

Jo gave me a playful shove as she reached for the troll’s extended hand. “Just call me Jo. Gage is being an asshole.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jo. Would you join us?” Bronx greeted smoothly with a small smile.

Jo nodded and slid into the chair next to Bronx while I returned to my previous chair. It put her out of arm’s reach unless I wanted to stretch across the table, and I liked to think that I wasn’t that desperate to touch the vampire.

“How did you meet Gage?” Jo immediately demanded when she was settled.

“I met him coming out of a ladies’ bathroom in a bar,” Bronx replied, but I could see the mischievous glee lighting his eyes. Jo’s pale face immediately lit up and she opened her mouth to comment but I quickly jumped in.

“It’s not as interesting as he makes it sound. Suffice to say, it was an unusual meeting, but all the same, he agreed to come work for me at Asylum.”

Jo narrowed her gaze on me as she leaned on the table. “Somehow I doubt that. You always knew how to get into trouble. But I’ll drop it . . . for now. I’m just excited to hear that Asylum is doing well, at least well enough to support two artists. That’s great!”

“Fantastic,” I grumbled.

Jo looked from Bronx to me to Bronx again as she took in my sour expression and the troll’s lack of enthusiasm. “What’s wrong? It has to be working out if you’re both here.”

“No, we’re getting along fine.”

“This is the first night we’ve had off in months. Business has gotten a little too good. We’re too busy,” Bronx explained.

I shoved a hand through my hair in frustration. You never complained about business being good. If the fates were listening, that was the exact moment when everything went completely sour and your business failed. But what Bronx had said was correct. We were drowning in work. “I’ve been thinking about putting up an ad for a new artist, but I just haven’t had the time.”

Jo clapped her hands and bounced in her seat a moment. “That’s wonderful!”

“Huh?”

“I’ve got a friend who has moved to the area,” she announced, still beaming at us. “She’s a tattoo artist. I was going to ask if you had any openings or if you knew anyone that had an opening.”

My stomach twisted and I could feel my blood running cold in my veins. All night—hell, for days—I had thought that she had contacted me because she actually wanted to see me. Now it was beginning to sound like she had called me in hopes of finding a job for her friend.

“Is this why you invited me here?” I demanded, the question coming out hard and flat.

Jo jerked, looking as if I had just hit her. Her own expression chilled as she gazed at me. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, Gage. I wanted to see you. The fact that Trixie is a tattoo artist, needs a job, and you’re hiring is just a bit of serendipity.”

“What’s the lady’s name?” Bronx asked, drawing Jo’s dark look from me in an attempt to save me from myself. Yeah, Bronx was making an excellent wingman.

“Her name is Trixie Ravenwood, human, and she does the most beautiful work. We met while the band was touring on the West Coast over the summer. We kept in contact after I headed back this way and she emailed me about a month ago saying that she was leaving the West Coast. I told her to try out Low Town, so she came here.”

“You’ve seen her work?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ve sat around the shop where she worked and watched her. I’ve seen her do some really delicate line work and some amazing shading. She’s an artist, Gage. Not like some of the hacks I’ve seen. She knows her shit.”

“Does she move around a lot?” Bronx asked.

“I’m not sure.” Jo sat back, her face clouding in thought. “I got the impression that she’s lived in several places.”

Bronx looked down at me for a call. I just shrugged. “Something like that could work in our favor. This increase in business could be a fluke and someone that is temporary could be best to get us through until it gets quiet again.” I turned my attention back to Jo, who was looking at me with an eager, excited grin. “Is she in Low Town now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she could come by tomorrow around seven? I had a cancellation and could do an interview then. If she can’t make it, tell her to call the shop. I’ll try to schedule something over the next week.”

“Thanks! I can’t wait to tell her. I think you guys will get along great with her,” Jo gushed.

I chuckled, but laughter quickly died when a man swept over to Jo’s side as if he had walked straight from the shadows. He roughly grabbed her thin arm, jerking her out of her chair so that she was standing next to him. I started to come out of my chair, aiming to throw the jerk across the room for handling Jo like that, but Bronx’s hand came down on my shoulder hard and held me in my chair. I glared at my companion, but the troll shook his head at me.

The dark expression on Bronx’s face was enough to overcome my caveman instincts and let my brain kick in as I took in the scene before me. Everyone knew Jo was a vampire. Vampires were extremely strong and fast. No one messed with a vampire, and I knew that Jo could take care of herself. Yet, this guy was manhandling Jo with confidence . . . because he was also a vampire. And by the looks of it, Jo was scared of this vampire.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed in her ear, but it was still loud enough for Bronx and me to hear it.

Jo cringed away from him but he leaned in so that his pointy nose was touching the soft shell of her ear. “I told you that we had a concert tonight. We just finished a little while ago.”

“And Royce has already checked in. You have not.” His hand tightened on her arm, causing Jo to grimace in pain. At the same time, Bronx’s hand on my shoulder increased its pressure, wisely holding me in place.

“I was just getting ready to leave,” Jo said quickly.

“Yes, you were. Now, say good-bye to your little fans.” He commanded sarcastically before turning his narrowed gaze on me. I glared at him for a moment before Jo’s wavering voice captured my attention.

“It was nice to see you, Gage, Bronx. Thanks for coming. I’ll try to email you soon.” Jo smiled at me, but it didn’t reach her sad bluish-white eyes. I clenched my teeth, not trusting myself enough to speak. I nodded stiffly to her, but I wasn’t sure she saw it because the douche bag on her arm jerked her out of the club in the blink of an eye.

Bronx released my shoulder and I twisted around to see Jo, but she and her companion had disappeared completely. I frowned as I slid out of my chair at the same time as Bronx. “Thanks. You’re a great wingman.”

“It’s a wingman’s duty to keep his friend from committing suicide,” Bronx said.

A human attacking a vampire after sunset was viewed as suicide, but then I had a few tricks up my sleeve no human had. I would have probably survived the encounter with the vampire, but then I would have been killed by someone else because of my using magic.

“I’m guessing that you have no idea who that was,” Bronx continued, drawing my attention back to him as we wandered through Boggart’s and back to the parking lot that held my beat-up SUV.

“No clue. Never seen him before, but then I’ve not had a lot of run-ins with blood suckers. You?”

Bronx shook his head. “Never seen him before.”

With my hands shoved in my pockets, I briefly looked both ways before crossing the street, feeling grateful that I had left a jacket in the backseat of my car. The air was getting crisp and I had a feeling that we were only a few weeks away from our first snow of the season.

“How are you with vampires?”

Bronx paused in the process of reaching for the door handle. “What do you mean?”

“Ever ripped the head off one?”

The troll gave a little snort. “There are times when I think our souls were switched at birth. You should have been born a troll. And, no, I’ve never ripped the head off a vampire.”

“It may be time to look into such things,” I muttered, climbing into the car.

Bronx climbed in beside me and clicked his seat belt in place. “And maybe you should slow down and wait. Talk to Jo first.”

I shoved the key in the ignition and froze. “You don’t think I should interfere?”

“I think you need to talk to Jo first. Vampire society is different than human society—different rules, behaviors, and codes. She might not want you to interfere. You might make things worse.”

I grimaced. I didn’t like the idea of waiting, but Bronx made a good argument. “You’re right.” I turned the key, starting the car to growling. “I’ll talk to Jo, see what’s happening. And then I’ll rip his head off.”

“And I’ll hold him down.”

I smiled as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward the south side of Low Town. It was good to have a troll as a wingman.

CHAPTER TWO

T
rixie was not what I expected. At roughly seven o’clock, I found myself sitting at the glass case in the lobby of Asylum, making some notes after getting off the phone with one of my ingredients suppliers, when a woman walked into the parlor. As she stepped over the threshold, I noticed that there was a double image of her. The first layer was the image of a woman with dark brown hair, a sweet, heart-shaped face, and round brown eyes. From what I could tell, the brunette was lovely. However, the second layer revealed a breathtaking blonde with almond-shaped green eyes, high cheek bones, and the pointed ears of an elf.

The antiglamour spell I kept on the shop for protection showed the blonde elf who was pretending to be a brunette human walking into my shop. Interesting, but also bad. Elves were good at glamour, but there was really no need for her to hide in the human guise unless she was on the run from something or someone. Definitely not good.

“Trixie Ravenwood?�� I asked as she approached the glass case.

She stopped in mid-stride, her brows bunching over her small nose. “Yes, but how did you . . . ?”

I nodded to the black leather portfolio she was carrying. “The case. Most customers don’t come in with a large selection of ink designs,” I replied, rather than revealing how my life seemed to welcome trouble in all its forms.

“Oh, right,” she murmured, seeming to deflate for a second as she relaxed her guard. She then stiffened again as she extended her hand to me. “You must be Gage Powell.”

I shook her hand and smiled. “That’s me. Thanks for coming in tonight. We’ve been slammed and it’s been hard for us to catch a break. Why don’t you step into the back where I can look at your work in a better light?”