“Yes, Dam. Once again, I’m sorry for missing out on dinner.”

  “We left something for you. You sure you won’t come?” he asked for the third time. I’d called him to let him know that I’d dropped Jason in his basement, but apparently he’d installed motion sensors down there, and Jason was already with Peter, Zoe, Sophie, and Nick, who had finally managed to come over.

  I hoped he’d have a better time with them than he’d had with me.

  “I’m sure. I need to be alone for some time.”

  “You can take some alone time today just fine, but I want to see you here tomorrow, on Christmas Eve. Peter already confirmed you won’t have any plans.” That was, of course, true. We never celebrated this holiday. It came with too much baked-in trauma.

  “I will be there,” I replied. “Will he be there?” I added after a moment.

  “Of course. We’ll keep him here and safe. I won’t fail the second time…” He let what was left unsaid fade into silence.

  “Are you sure it’s nothing?” I asked, thinking of the Authority I’d felt within Jason—pushing back against me.

  “No, I’m not,” he admitted. “But like I said, I’ll keep an eye on him. I think it may simply be something left over from the process he was undergoing.”

  “Okay. I just don’t want to be right about this.”

  “If he’s changed, I have more than enough power to stop him, Alexa.”

  “Good,” I said. “That makes it easier on me. Take care, big guy.”

  “You too, Alexa,” he replied, and I pressed the red icon on my phone. The very next second, I was already inside my Domain, standing in front of the desk I used for sketching.

  As soon as I arrived, sunlight greeted me, warmly touching my skin from above.

  It was a new feeling—one I hadn’t expected—so I looked up to see that the ceiling above most of my little stump of a tower was simply gone. Clear sky hung above me in a perfect maya blue, just the way I liked it, with a warm sun overhead, heating the air to a perfect temperature.

  I smiled when Liora darted through the opening. Most of his scales were deep navy blue, while his mane flowed in golden, sunlit colors. He rushed to me, placing his small front legs on my shoulders and brushing his head against mine. I returned the gesture, scratching his chin.

  “Interesting change,” I whispered to him. “Makes it easier for me to join you outside,” I added as I moved a chair to sit by my workstation.

  When I did, I noticed the floor had changed as well. It was no longer obsidian in color. It wasn’t even a solid object anymore, despite firmly holding everything on top of it like one. It was a mirroring surface of a deep lake now—black depths so far removed they felt like the abyss, and yet they reflected everything with perfect clarity, carrying me and all of my things without issue. A threat that had always been there, ready to swallow everything, and yet it didn’t.

  I laughed out loud, thinking of the implications.

  “You like it that way, guys?” I asked both Lio and Anansi. My lóng responded by jumping onto the floor and repeating the motion a few times in a playful manner.

  [Yes. It fits how you see yourself better. Reflects your character.]

  “I was closed in, and now I’m more open, right?”

  [Seems that way.]

  “Mhm. Can’t say it didn’t hurt me, but I feel relieved not having to carry yet another bunch of secrets within me.”

  [What are you up to?]

  “You know it well enough, but I appreciate the gesture. I’m going to sketch a design for my first-ever tattoo.”

  And I did. I grabbed my pen and started with a few gentle lines—overall shapes of my tree-like crystalline soul core in the background. Curving walls all around me, with Corinthian columns and vague shapes of statues of me. Then the real me in the center, looking at the crystal, wearing my Usagear with the spellbook around my waist. Next came the shapes of Noxy, Ella, and Ghostflame lying on the couch beside me, right next to a new book—the one containing my soulmarks. Then I added Liora resting on my shoulder, just like he had minutes ago.

  With the simple shapes done, I started adding details—the part of the process I liked the most. The structure of the crystal with all its facets. The skin of the suit. All the images on Ella’s canopy and handle. The spider-like body over Noxy’s frame. The shine over my dual-purpose knife. The scales and the perfect mane of my trusted small dragon.

  Then came the light and the shadows to make it more real.

  I liked the final outcome. It contained everything I could need in an instant—from the anchor point of my teleportation itself to the small items I could call for if needed.

  I took that piece of paper and teleported to the front of the County Supreme Court, then walked my way backward toward the Secrets of the Skin tattoo parlor. Fortunately for me, despite the late December afternoon, it was still open. I pushed the door.

  The bell above rang as I entered, announcing my arrival. The smell hit me first, despite my mask being lowered—clean antiseptic layered with something darker, like ink and warm metal.

  The walls were a collage of skin and stories. Flash sheets climbed toward the ceiling, bold lines and fantastic colors looking back with perfect confidence. I didn’t stare with my real eyes, but those other ones on my hood snagged on everything: a dragon’s spine, a woman’s face split with flowers, words etched into shadows, wings made of light and melodies. This was a gallery of an accomplished artist, an abode and a sanctuary of a genius and a craft.

  I loved every part of it.

  The low buzz of a tattoo machine leaked out from the back room, making me painfully aware of my own bare skin.

  A person behind the desk looked comfortable, like they’d already crossed some invisible line I was standing in front of. I wondered if they could tell—if there was something about the way I stood that gave away the fact it was my first time. Or maybe they just didn’t expect a woman wearing a silver suit with rabbit ears sticking out to come in today. Or ever.

  “How can we help you?” The man’s voice reached me. I wasn’t sure before. His frame was very feminine, with a clean-shaven, teenage-looking face and long black hair. He stood out immediately, like a coiled spring let loose, his own skin telling countless stories already.

  “I’d like to have a tattoo,” I told him. “Something very akin to what I’ve designed myself. But of course, I’ll gladly accept the artist’s own interpretation.”

  He took the piece of paper I’d prepared for this occasion, looked it over, and gasped loudly.

  “This will be troublesome for us,” he replied, returning the sketch with an outstretched arm. One of the tattoos he had there—of a snake—curled itself around it and hid behind the sleeve, like a real being.

  “How so?”

  “You are from the other side.”

  “How can you tell? And why would that be an issue?”

  He looked me up and down with a chuckle of amazement.

  “It’s kind of pretentious to ask that while handing over the image of a soul core within a Domain, while wearing…” He took a moment to think the response through. “A fashion designer’s idea of anime-inspired armor?”

  “Okay. That answers the first part. And the second?”

  “Do you have any of our actual money? And by ours I mean the kind produced in this world, not those papers you took from your own.”

  “I… I don’t even have papers. I have a debit and a credit card from Earth.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Yeah, I thought so. Hence the troublesome part.” He said, and then the doors to the workroom opened and a lady came out with her sleeve covered.

  “Thank you, Mal, and see you in a few weeks,” she said in a sweet tone, obviously happy with the result. Soon after her, the woman who was the artist came out. She—for lack of a better descriptor—was a dwarf. And not the fantasy kind. She was a dwarf in the biological sense of the word—a smaller person, with a harsh but kind face and big grey eyes. Her ginger, curly hair was set in a ponytail, and she looked straight into my eyes.

  I felt the knocking—the will to come and check where I stood in terms of power—but I declined politely with a reverse push of Authority.

  “A mage. In my own shop,” she said, in a voice far deeper and raspier than I expected, as if she’d spent years chain-smoking cigarettes.

  “Earthling. And she doesn’t have any money. But she has a good design,” the man called Mal responded.

  “Show me,” the dwarf woman asked and motioned toward the couch in the corner to sit on.

  I extended my hand, handing over the sketch, while I sat opposite her.

  “My name is Daisy Bennett. I am a mage like yourself.”

  “Domain of tattoos?”

  “Something like that,” she replied, reaching for a cigarette. “Do you mind?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s an interesting piece. Why that?”

  “I can bend space, reaching places I’ve been to and that have been put into permanence through art—this was supposed to be my lifeline, in case something goes wrong.”

  “Domain of paintings?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” I teased her.

  She wasn’t amused.

  “Artistic creation,” I corrected.

  “That’s way fucking better. I will do it,” she answered.

  “Ben, she doesn’t have any money,” Mal protested, waving his arms and hitting the desk with a fist.

  “What can I say?” She laughed. “I kind of like her already. No nonsense. The design is epic, and working against another mage’s Authority will make me progress my essence faster.”

  Mal clearly gave up. He looked like he was used to losing these kinds of battles.

  “I can pay with a soul mark,” I replied all of a sudden, against my better nature. That stopped Daisy in her tracks.

  “What kind?”

  “Monument or a Crown.” I wasn’t giving up on Animation, though—that one would go next into my repertoire for sure.

  “Crown has potential. All those conceptual marks react in curious ways with the cores. I will take it if you are offering. But in that case, I will spice up the whole thing.”

  “Spice up?” I asked as she stood up and moved toward her workroom. I followed, leaving Mal behind to do his own thing.

  “I will make the tattoo special for you. Pour my own Authority into it.”

  “I am not sure I want that,” I answered while she closed the door behind us. “You’d always be able to tell where I am.” She laughed at me, sounding like a cawing crow.

  “I’d bind the Authority to the ink. Why’d you assume I’d use unbound authority? That doesn’t make any sense,” she replied, and my face must have been a complete loss, because she quickly sighed.

  “You are a sourcerer?”

  “I prefer sourceress.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You didn’t know you can bind your Authority to items?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s strange. It comes naturally to most people who work with imbuing other things. You always have a choice: to just lend your magic to the thing you are influencing, or to leave it there permanently so it becomes its own thing. Unbound and bound Authority. If you do the latter, you lose the link to it, but it becomes independent from you as a source.” Sharing my own power was one thing, but giving it away worked directly against my nature. No wonder I never noticed I had a choice in that matter.

  “How will it gain energy to do its thing?”

  “Any way energy can be gained. Motion, food, solar, electricity—all different things work. Usually, if something like that runs out, it will regain full function by just laying around, gathering it somehow. I am no expert, but my tattoos do it, siphoning some from the body they are on. So motion and food work well. Even the sun, when the skin is exposed, can power them up pretty well.”

  “How will I be able to tell that you are using bound authority?”

  “Anything still connected with the mage will clash with your authority as it gets close enough. You will feel like you are battling the other mage, rather than the item itself.” That part had to be true. Every time Lebens fed me something, I felt the crash of authorities—but always against the thing itself, never Ariana or Dam. They must have always used bound authority for their actions and assumed I knew the difference.

  “If you felt me still connected, you’d fight me on that front. You’d know.”

  “Excuse my ignorance. That’s new for me. What exactly were you planning to do with that tattoo of yours to make it better?” I asked, summoning my soulmark book and tearing the page containing the crown away.

  “I have a few ideas I can run you through, but it will take around ten hours to finish.”

  “Can it be done in one sitting?”

  “Not if you were human. For a mage, if you are a good friend with pain, we should be able to do it.”

  “Good. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be right back,” I said, disappearing into my room after she nodded.

  **********

  Trusting friends or ex boyfriends was one thing, but blindly following something a tattoo artist from another world said was not on my bingo card for causes of death. So I had to confirm whether what she said was actually true.

  I figured one phone call and a minute of running was better than ending up as someone’s pet because I let them doodle on my skin and paid for it.

  Since Dam confirmed every word this woman let out of her mouth, and even added that tattoos like this were a pretty common way for mages to enhance themselves, I found myself walking back into the same parlor.

  “Didn’t you come in like twenty minutes ago?” Mal asked, surprised to see me again.

  “It must’ve been my evil twin,” I replied. “Can you tell Daisy I’m back?”

  **********

  “Can you—” Daisy started, right before I hit her with my elbow again. “—stop doing that already?” she finished, pressing her pistol harder against my skin.

  We were five hours into the whole thing by then. Five long, painful hours, both for my body and my soul. I clashed with foreign Authority almost constantly. Every drop of ink she shot beneath my skin made me subconsciously resist, lashing out, even though, just like she’d said, the intent behind the creation was clear. I knew exactly what this piece of art would let me do once it was finished. I felt it every time she pressed the trigger. I was also sure, just as she’d promised, that none of this was connected to her at all.

  Still, the process was deeply uncomfortable on so many levels it was hard to stop myself from reacting. I was in another world, doing something I’d never thought I would, something I lost all control over the moment it began. I was lying on my stomach, wearing only underwear, face down on a special bed. At least, thanks to the painted nails and the mirror above it, I could see the whole process. And at least in that, I was sure I’d made the right choice.

  Daisy Bennet was a master of her craft. What she was doing to my lower back was a miraculous reimagining of the piece I’d brought her.

  “I didn’t know colors like this were possible for tattoos,” I said, trying to distract myself from the constant struggle.

  “What you usually see are pigments that fade as they break down over time. The sun is a very harsh critic,” she replied, focused on her work. “This will keep its coloration fully, courtesy of ink with a very strong sense of self from this side of the universe.”

  “Were you born here?” I asked. “Are you native to Ideworld?”

  “No. I’ve also never met a shadow who could be a mage. It’s always people from our side.”

  “Do you live here, then?”

  “Yes. I’ve been here for the past twenty years. I like it more. It’s a more honest place. What about you?”

  “I’m new to all this. Very new. I like going back and forth.”

  “I can imagine. With an ability like yours, it’s much easier.” She pressed the device harder into my skin again, making me wince and squirm a little. It felt like it was working as much under my skin as under my soul. “Back in the day, I probably would’ve liked to do that too. I left a lot of friends back on Earth. But now I’ve got new ones here, and honestly, it’s more fun hearing about dragon attacks or research into the kinds of Changes people are going through than listening to news about new sicknesses or terrorist attacks.”

  “You don’t fear for your life?”

  “I avoid dangerous places, so no, not really.”

  “I’ve seen a drake eat someone right out on the street here. And the way cars move around is dangerous by itself.”

  “True. We do have a drake problem lately, but the army is handling it, so hopefully it’ll be over soon. Cars, though, only behave erratically when humans drive them. When shadows do, they’re pretty reliable. Something to do with how technology reacts to us. Can’t use phones either, but Mal, for example, has no issues at all.”

  “Can you make a video with your phone?”

  “You mean with yours from Earth? Sure, you could. Though I can’t vouch for what people would actually see once Reality gets its hands on the editing. Shadows here can make videos with their phones or cameras too. Otherwise, television wouldn’t work at all.” True. One more lie from Joan that I never bothered to check.

  “Can you watch it? Their TV?”

  “Sadly, no. It’s not possible. I think it’s some god messing with our perception of technology, but who really knows?”

  “Not everything is affected, though. I can use the pistol I found here just fine.”

  “That’s true. The one I’m using is from here, after all. TV, radio, computers, and anything you’d drive yourself, I’d avoid if I were you. Other things are fine.”

  I spent the next few hours wondering why that was the case, all while trying not to fight the ink too much.

  **********

  My back itched a bit as I ran through the Ideworld’s street. However this woman had painted a masterpiece on my skin. It looked better than I could have imagined. Each piece felt both real and otherworldly at the same time, as if she’d captured them from two angles depending on how you looked at them. It was about the size of my open hand, but the details were exquisite. Every individual spidery limb could be seen cradling the barrel of Noxy. Ella’s textures looked as if she’d just been soaked by falling rain. My suit appeared fresh from a fight, and the soul core itself bathed everything in rainbow hues.

  And to top it off, despite its origin, it felt like a part of me now. Authority bound within it responded without any issues to my soul’s commands, as if it had always been mine to begin with. Both as a way of anchoring my Domain and the items I created, and exactly as Daisy had imagined it. It had two modes.

  The first was passive and always on. An open connection between me and what was depicted on the tattoo, my soul core. Her idea, after she’d heard about my marks. This solution let me stay constantly bathed in the rejuvenating light of my Domain’s crystal. It wasn’t as powerful as being there physically, but it was a definite improvement. Where I could make around ten jumps in quick succession before the tattoo, now I could easily do twenty. And as I grew in power, this would grow with me.

  The second mode was active and required a conscious decision on my part. When triggered, the tattoo would go into overdrive, channeling the full power of my Domain into me for a few seconds before running dry.

  Something I hadn’t tried yet, but it felt like it might come in handy.

  It felt fantastic to just ran like that, being energized and with a clear target.

  I had one in mind, because of something I remembered as I’d been lying on the table, waiting for Daisy to finish. A thought that wasn’t mine had become clear to me, carried through the brain I’d lent Malik before he died.

  I knew exactly where his Domain was.