“You doing okay?”
Alerich grimaced in the chair, the uncomfortable feeling of the needle penetrating his skin like the rough tongue of a cat scraping over a sunburn combined with thousands of tiny claws perforating his chest. The pain seemed to grow more intense the longer the artist worked on him, but Alerich was determined to see this through. “I’m fine.”
The tattoo artist grunted and bent his head back over the design, wiping away blood and excess ink with a practiced swipe.
Alerich watched him work, the outline of the blond raven done in white ink finished, and the artist filling in the delicate feathers. The raven’s blue eyes staring up at Alerich were disconcerting, accusing, and Alerich stared back, full of guilt. He hadn’t known Gaubert long, but Alerich believed that they could have grown to become friends. Gaubert had believed in the Coalition, believed that Seahaven could be changed, and the lives of the various therian groups made better. He had believed in Alerich, right up to the end.
Alerich looked away from the raven on his chest, the pale ink as ghostly as the memories that haunted him. He had failed Gaubert. Failed to see how dangerous politics in Seahaven really were. Failed to stop the attack that killed the raven and nearly his entire murder. Only the kids, Colette and Casmir, had survived, Gaubert hiding them at the last second, telling them to call Alerich. That Alerich would help them.
The kids were safe now, tucked in at the Theatre and far from the reach of the sharks and their guns. But neither Casmir nor Colette would take his calls. They were angry at him for being new to town, for misinterpreting Gaubert’s request for assistance, for his naivete and ignorance of how things functioned here, for his idealistic fantasy that everyone could be brought to the table and would be happy to forge a new community out of the fractious mess Seahaven had been for the last hundred and fifty years. They were angry at his failure, but not half as angry as Alerich was with himself. And so, he sat here, arms gripping the chair, trying not to move as his greatest failure was indelibly etched into his body where Alerich would always see it and remember that his mistakes cost lives.
The artist gave one last swipe and sat back, turning off the machine. “What do you think?”
Alerich looked down at the finished raven. The likeness was amazing, the bird looking like it could flap its wings and fly off Alerich’s chest at any moment. “It’s perfect.”
The man gave a brief nod of thanks, slathering the new tattoo and covering it as he explained how to clean and moisturize it over the next two weeks to have the best results. Alerich listened carefully, even though he knew Winter would have a salve that would cut the healing time drastically. Though part of him wondered if he shouldn’t forgo her salve, to heal slowly and painfully as further penance for his failure. Alerich didn’t think Gaubert would want him to suffer, but he wasn’t so sure about Casmir. The boy was so angry. And Alerich couldn’t blame him.
Alerich stood, paid the artist, and gingerly buttoned up his shirt. He felt the sting of the new tattoo and welcomed the ache. It matched the one in his heart.
He left the shop and headed back to his car. He had two more meetings scheduled today with groups that wanted to take part in this grand experiment. He reached a tentative hand up and touched the tattoo, promising that he would learn from this mistake and never underestimate the dangers of Seahaven again. He slid into the car, gripped the steering wheel, and made a vow to the ghost now emblazoned on his chest that he would do better, be smarter. That he would learn from this tragedy.
That he would be the leader that Gaubert had needed.
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