THE SHADOWED ONYX: A DIAMOND ESTATES NOVEL (15 page)

“Why not?”

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It was all Joy could do not to follow the skinny guy out the door. She should have never come.

S
chool was a complete impossibility. Joy couldn’t imagine sitting in class, listening to lectures, working on group projects. She shuddered. Group projects were the worst, even at the best of times. But on that day, in that moment, Joy couldn’t do something so normal. Not when her life had spun out of her grasp. It had become virtually unrecognizable to her.

Ghostlike memories haunted her around every corner. She darted in and out of rooms, before the bells rang or after classes started so she could avoid Austin. A spirit wolf followed at her heels most of the day. Was this her life, or was she acting in some twisted made-for-cable movie?

Escape. Joy needed time to reflect. Yeah. A reflection day. That’s what she’d call it. It sounded way better than cutting school. She had to get out of Ogalalla no matter what. North Platte wasn’t that far. Maybe a movie and a walk around the mall, just for a change of scenery.

After pocketing one of Mom’s twenty-dollar bills for gas along with her stash of birthday money, Joy slung her backpack into the passenger seat of her car. She slid into the driver’s seat then started up her yellow Bug. Shivering, she flipped the heat on full blast, backed out of the driveway, and turned toward the interstate. North Platte or bust. Shouldn’t be that difficult to find, though she’d never driven all the way by herself. Her parents wouldn’t have allowed it. But Joy wasn’t in a permission-asking mood.

Once upon a time, she would never have dreamed of blatantly ignoring her parents’ wishes like this. Rule follower. Girl next door. Dependable. All terms people might have used to describe Joy. At least in the past. Now though, it seemed like Joy was out for whatever Joy wanted, and it felt good. She hadn’t thought about putting herself first before, but things changed so fast, it no longer made any sense not to look out for number one. In the end, she was the only person she could be sure of. So what if she had fewer friends? So what if people thought less of her? She didn’t really care when she looked at the big picture.

Joy took her eyes off the stretch of flat interstate and looked beside her. Silas was sound asleep in the passenger seat, resting so he could be on alert when he sensed a change in Joy’s mood. She’d really come to know her guide well. He’d never let anything happen to her.

She took the ramp into North Platte. Now, where was the movie theater?

On second thought, that was something she would’ve done with Melanie. How about something different? She’d been wanting to do some research, so she’d hang out at the library for a while. Cut school to go to the library—how lame.

After finding it right where it was last time she’d been there, Joy buzzed into a parking space.

“No school today?” The librarian lifted her glasses and looked at Joy over the bridge of her nose the instant Joy walked through the doors.

“No. I’m homeschooled.” Not really a huge lie.

The disbelief was evident in the crease of the librarian’s eyes as she slammed the staple through the stack of papers she’d been collating. She must’ve heard that one before.

Get a grip, lady. It wasn’t like Joy had gone out drinking or partying. She was at a library for crying out loud.

Joy wandered to the religion section with no idea exactly what she was looking for. No way she’d go ask the Nazi up front. Joy scanned the rows of books about everything except what she’d been experiencing with Raven, Lucas, and Silas … and now Heather. What would she call it? Was it actually a religion?

She envisioned an old, leather-bound
Neverending Story
-type book called something like the
Guardian Spirit Bible
or something fancy like that. But no. She’d found better stuff at home with her Google searches. The closest it seemed she could get were the books on Wicca or Paganism, neither of which had anything to do with her. She was just being spiritual, not satanic. There was a difference, right? Maybe no one had written a book about that. She’d have to ask Raven later.

Okay. She was bored. Enough research. Time to face the real reason she’d come all the way to North Platte—even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself. There had to be a tattoo shop nearby. Joy found an empty computer station and did a quick search. Flipping through the options, she liked the looks of Twizted Needle on its Facebook page. It seemed clean and professional. But, oh no, they required a parent or guardian to be present with minors. Well, Joy would just have to look like she wasn’t a minor. At least she was wearing her Nebraska Huskers sweatshirt. The tattoo guy might believe she was a college student.

The next problem was how she could make sure the tattoo captured Silas’s individual look. It had to be him. Not just any white wolf. Him. They had to get the eyes just right, which would mean she’d have to have a picture of exactly what she wanted. She typed
white wolf
in the search engine. So many pictures were just not quite right. She scrolled for miles through photos that came close, but missed the mark in the eyes.

Finally, there it was, the perfect picture of her Silas. Almost as though he’d posed for a portrait session himself.

Print
.

Now, would she need an appointment? Could be a problem. She couldn’t ditch another day of school to come back later, so it had to be today. Besides, if she didn’t do it right away, she might lose her nerve. Maybe they wouldn’t be busy since it was the middle of the day. She navigated back to the Facebook page of the tattoo parlor and entered the number into her cell phone.

“Twizted Needle. What’s up?”

“Hi. I was wondering if you could get me in for a tattoo this afternoon. I’m only in town today.”

The librarian gasped and dropped her stack.

Joy shot her a glare. Hopefully the tattoo shop wasn’t owned by the lady’s nephew or something. As if.

“Um …”

Joy heard the rustling of paper. An appointment book?

“Yeah. Looks like if you come over right now, we can get you in, if it isn’t too big.”

“Cool. I’m on my way. Should take about ten minutes.”

It wasn’t too late to back out. Joy stared at the brown brick building. She didn’t have to go in. If she did, someone would take a needle and shove it into her skin over and over and over. What was she thinking? She glanced to the right and locked eyes with Silas. No, it was important she do it. A final step in uniting them permanently. Eternally.

Time to face the music, or the needle, in this case. Joy climbed out then slammed the door shut. She smoothed her clothes and ran her fingers through her long hair. Look older.

The door chimed as she stepped inside.

“Be right with you.” The tattoo artist called from behind the white divider as he finished up with a client’s back tattoo.

She wandered to the wall where photos of people who’d had tattoos done, and even of people receiving tattoos, hung on display. A coffee table held albums with even more samples of possible designs. Joy flipped through the pages, arriving at a section displaying tattooed body parts she could have gone her whole life without seeing. The heat crept up her neck and warmed her ears. Act cool.

Joy patted the printout of Silas she’d tucked into her pocket. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Joy Christianson? Come on over here.” The young, bald guy with head-to-toe tattoos slid back on his chair and leaned out of his cubicle to beckon her.

Prepared to plead ignorance about the age restriction, she stepped around the curtain and offered a wide, albeit shaky, smile.

“Hey Joy. I’m Mike.” He stuck out a hand to shake hers. “Oops.” He ripped off a rubber glove then shook her hand. “What did you want done today?”

So far, so good. Joy reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded picture of Silas. “This is what. Probably just the face. I’m worried about the eyes though. I need them to look just like this.”

Mike nodded. “Oh yeah. This is a great shot. It won’t be difficult at all. Except white can be kind of funny on the skin.” He peered closer at the picture. “What if we did the wolf in black outline and only the eyes in color?”

Joy gasped. “That’s so perfect. I love it.”

“Great. Me, too. Where did you want to put it?”

“Well, tell me what you think. Originally I had thought about over my heart.”

Mike grimaced and shook his head.

Joy shrugged. “But the more I think about that, the heart is kind of in the middle of the sternum, which would be weird.”

“Uh, yeah. Assuming this is your first tattoo. If you were covered, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Right. And it doesn’t make sense to put it somewhere I can’t see it. So I think I’d like him right here on the side of my thigh where I can touch him if I need to or look down and see him. Plus right there, I know he is right in step with me everywhere I go.”

“Sounds pretty well thought out and easy enough. Let me work up a stencil and we’ll get started.” He slipped the picture under a piece of tracing paper and set to work.

Joy’s eyes remained locked on the paper. Get the eyes right. That was all she asked.

“Okay then, have a seat.” Mike spun the chair so she’d be facing him.

Joy settled in the seat. This was it. She could still back out. Wonder how many people actually did at that point?

“Okay.” Mike laid the stencil over Joy’s thigh. “How’s this, here?”

Hmm. If it were too high, she’d hardly ever see it. “Actually, could you scoot it down just an inch or two?”

“No problem.” Mike wiped the design away with an alcohol pad and repositioned it.

She didn’t want it to show when she wore regular shorts, but just above that would be … “Perfect.”

“Great.” Mike turned and fiddled with the tattoo gun and ink tubs. He whipped back around, gun in hand. “You ready?”

Joy nodded and gripped the armrests. The gun buzzed. Joy squeezed harder and clenched her teeth. She turned her head away as Mike neared her leg with the humming needle. Closer and closer—like slow motion.

Oh, come on already. Get it over with. Joy scrunched her eyes shut.

The buzzing made contact with the surface of her skin. The first instant it tickled like butterfly wings, then, not so much. Not as bad as she expected, but definitely not a nap in the sun. But the work had begun, and there was no turning back now.

A quick peek at the work revealed a bloody wolf murder on her thigh. Breathe in. Breathe out.

How strange that human beings not only asked for someone to shoot ink into their skin with needles, but even more that they’d actually pay for it. The price of beauty … or art … or whatever.

Ouch
. That spot was tender. When Mike went back to areas he’d already started work on … zowie! Joy wanted to climb the walls, but she held tight.

Phew. A break. Mike changed the color in the gun. Time for the blue.

Joy watched closely as he went to work on those perfect eyes. The color pooled with blood on the surface of her skin, so she couldn’t quite make out what lay beneath.

After ninety minutes of needles, Mike put the gun down. “That’s it. Want to take a look?”

“Absolutely.” Joy lifted her feet from the rests and placed them on the floor.

Mike put a hand on her elbow. “Steady as you go. It’ll take a few minutes to get your sea legs back.”

Joy almost laughed. She’d only been sitting for an hour and a half, but as she started to walk her knees wobbled. Wow. Yeah.

Sea legs—good term.

Mike helped her over to the mirror, and she turned sideways to look at her Silas on her leg. “It’s exactly what I wanted. Beautiful.” Now Silas would be with her forever. Joy looked down at the wolf’s face staring up at her, panting. Silas approved.

Y
ou’re a smart girl.”

So they’ve said.

The chair rolled across the floor mat.

Joy glanced up from counting carpet squares. What was Mary Alice doing?

“I think this’ll help you to step back and see where you fit on the timeline of the stages of grief.” Mary Alice Gianetti’s orange bob bounced as she talked.

Real human emotions shouldn’t be reduced to scientific stages. Shouldn’t that have been part of Psych 101? Or maybe all shrink-types believed people all fit into nice, neat little boxes with bows. “Stages of grief?”

“Yeah, if you look back, you’ll see that you’ve followed a pretty textbook pattern, as most people do.” Mary Alice pulled a sheet from her printer and offered it to Joy.

Sigh. Joy cracked the knuckles on both hands before accepting the sheet.

“You’ll see by the chart …”

She let her eyes trail down the page to see where she fit on the graph of human existence.

Denial and isolation?
Check.

Anger?
Check.

Bargaining?
Check.

Depression?
Check. Check.

Acceptance?
Never.

Where did the list say
talks to dead people
? How about
goes Goth
? And what about
hates life
?