Anthony Francis - Frost Moon

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet," Philip responded. "I didn't expect miracles."

"Hey, if you're going to talk to your boyfriend," Cinnamon said, "can I go shopping?"

I covered the phone and stared at her. "I'm supposed to keep watch over you."

"What's someone going to do, mug me? Unless they gots silver bullets-"

"Oh, all right. Don't go far," I said, starting to raise the phone. She stared at me expectantly, and it took me a few seconds to get it. "Oh, you have to be kidding!"

"What?" she said innocently.

I opened my wallet. Typical-I only had hundreds, a five and two ones. "Here," I said, giving her a single Benjamin. "Don't go far, or spend it all in one place-"

"Thanks, DaKOta!" she said, snatching the money and darting out.

"Oh, hell," I said watching her go. What was I doing? Phil! "Sorry," I said. "I'm babysitting today."

"You? Babysitting?" he said. "I'd pay money to see that-"

"It's quite the show," I responded. "But tell me, if you weren't expecting miracles, what could you expect? I don't actually know how to go about this-"

We talked for a while, both of us slowly realizing just how hard this was going to be-after all, I wasn't the only magical tattooist in the office, and a lot of them would be hesitant to talk to Phil, much less fork over their customer lists. A lot of serious tattoo collectors are rebels: someone sporting 'FTW'-Fuck The World-wasn't likely to cooperate with the Feds. After a bit we nailed down some options and I agreed to at least raise the issue with my team.

And since Cinnamon was gone and the day was just starting, it was the perfect time. I went to Reception: there were a fair number of customers looking at flash, but nobody queued for inking, and we already had two other artists in for their shifts. I made the decision.

"Annesthesia," I said. "Call Tess and Banner and put them on conference call, my office. If you don't get them leave messages for them to call me. Kring/L, CJ-come on. Pow-wow."

"Whatever it is, it can wait," Kring/L said, kinking his head at a biker-type dude going through the big blue binder. "This one's serious-"

"It can't wait," I said, walking over to the biker. He had a surprisingly friendly face, small beard and big curly hair giving him a pointy, elfin look. "Hey dude, I'm going to borrow your tattooist. Can you hang for thirty minutes? If you have him ink something, I'll throw in something small for free."

He studied me, eyes sharp under his dark brows. "Which one are you?" he asked, pointing at the tableau of artists and collectors along the wall.

"Frost."

The huge brows went up and he grinned abruptly. "A free Frost bite? Sure thing."

"Frost bite. I like that," I said, grinning, walking back towards Kring/L. "Satisfied?"

"Damn, you're serious," Kring/L said. Then the big, beefy bearof-a-man started to look scared. "Dakota. What the hell would make you give away a hundred-dollar tat for a freebie?"

"That would be the second hundred I've given away this morning," I said. "Come into my office, and I'll tell you."

Behind closed doors, I told Kring/L and CJ, with Banner and Tess on the speakerphone… everything. I mean everything.

The lid, the killer, Philip, even Wulf. I even gave the short version of what I'd gone through to get Wulf s Nazi flash checked out, just enough to explain why I was babysitting a mercurial weretiger foundling for the day. But I came back to the killings, and emphasized that every single one of our magical clients could be a target.

"We've got to tell those cats up at Sacred Heart," CJ said. "And Dino's crew."

"No argument," I said.

"How the hell are we going to find all our clients?" Kring/L said.

"Half of them won't want to be found," Banner warned over the speakerphone, "especially our one percenters."

I scowled. '1%' was a tattoo worn as a badge of pride by those that didn't see themselves as one of the 99% of tattoo wearers 'who are law abiding.' I had no patience for '1%' or 'FTW'-both jinxes I wouldn't ink. But most of the rest of the crew would. Still "Maybe that's not such a big deal," I tried. "How many of them have magic marks-"

"Most," Banner said.

"They're coming here, Dakota, to the Rogue," Kring/L said. "Often they start with FTW or Lady Luck and then move up to something more dazzling-"

"I know, I know," I said. "Maybe we could start with some of our bigger collectors-Bob Sierra, Teresa Regis, Gregory, um, what's his name-"

"Gregor Alan Ivanova," Kring/L said. "Haven't seen him in a while-"

"He moved to Birmingham," Tess's voice said. "I think I have his number-"

"You can't just pass it out," Banner said. "He moved for a reason. He don't want people finding him-" "The Feds aren't after him," I said.

"How do you know that?" Banner said. "How do you know this ain't just a clever ploy to flush one of our clients out? Haven't you watched Most Wanted? They send out a thousand 'you have won a prize' letters to fugitives and then arrest the ten dumb saps who show up!"

Kring/L was scowling. "He's got a point. Dakota, how can you trust this Fed guy? How do you know he's not just trying to get a list of the magically inked so he can disappear them?"

I felt my skin growing cold, that old familiar feeling. "He wouldn't do that-"

"Dakota, you're sweet on him. I can see it-" "I barely know him. But the Feds don't do that," I barked. "They sure do!" Banner said. "You think the 'witness protection program' is to protect the witnesses? It's just to disappear them when big money don't want cases to come to trial-" "That's just an urban legend-"

"You think you're so smart reading all those damn books," Kring/L said, "and yet still he shows up in a frigging black helicopter! Tell me that's an urban legend!"

"He had a black helicopter?" Banner said, agitated. "Hell, what if they're tapping the lines? They could have gotten a dozen leads just listening to us-"

"Now listen to me," I said. "He was recommended to me by my dad's best buddy, and they had a fucking wooden box lid with a real human tattoo nailed to it. A tat that may have been cut off while the wearer was still alive." The room got quiet, and I continued. "He says he wants to keep that from happening to anybody else, and I believe him, and I want to help." I looked around the room. "What about you guys?"

"Yeah," Kring/L said. CJ and Tess also assented. Only Banner held out.

"All right," he grumbled. "But if half our client list gets disappeared-"

"Look, look," I said. "We do this in stages. We talk to them first privately, in person if you're afraid to do it over the phone. Nobody gets forwarded to the Feds unless they want to talk to them. And if they don't want to go through us, Phil gave me his number "Oh, so he's Phil now? Gave you his numbed" Cinnamon said, bouncing back into my office. She'd swapped her clothes out almost completely for an outfit that was nearly identical- still short pants, crop top and vest, but now all new, the chunky vest orange to match her hair, the top a shimmering black with sparkling diagonal stripes, and the worn shorts swapped out for pale capris that matched the trim on the vest and looked surprisingly good on her tiger-striped skin. "But enough about your square boyfriend. Oh my God. There's this store, called the Junkman's Daughter, it's so fabulously cool-"

"That's great," I said. "Thanks guys, Tess, Banner. Let's get started."

"-and this other one, Psycho Sisters, where I gots the coolest shirt and vest-"

"Good luck," Kring/L said, raising his brows at Cinnamon as she bounced around my office like a pinball in a machine. "Can I get you guys anything-coffee, tea, a trank gun-"

Cinnamon hissed at him, baring her claws, and Kring/L hopped out, grinning.

"Hey, DaKOta," she said, words tumbling out like a running stream. "There's this oils shop, or something, round the corner, and so I was thinking when you're on your break maybe you and me could go down there and checks some of it out?"