My full kit was rarely needed, high school acne crises aside, so it was usually kept at home. But Alchemists were always on call, no matter where they were, to cover up vampire sightings. And so, we always kept a couple of things on us at all times. One was the substance that could dissolve a Strigoi body in under a minute. The other was almost equally efficient at dissolving metal.
It was a type of acid, and I kept it in a protected vial in my purse. Quickly, I fished it out and unscrewed the top. A bitter scent hit me and made me wrinkle my nose. With the bottle's glass dropper, I very carefully leaned down and placed a few drops right in the center of the lock. I immediately stepped back as a white mist rose up from the contact. Within thirty seconds, it had all dissipated, and there was a hole in the middle of the door's handle. One of the nice things about this stuff, which we called quickfire, was that its reaction occurred extremely fast. It was now inert and posed no danger to my skin. I pushed down on the handle, and it released.
I only opened the door a crack, just to ascertain that there was no one else around. Nope. Empty. I crept inside and quietly shut the door behind me, fastening an inside bolt to make sure it stayed locked. As I'd seen from the outside, the place was a storage room, filled with all sorts of tools of the tattoo trade. Three doorways surrounded me. One led to a bathroom, one to a darkened room, and another to the store's front and main counter. Light spilled in from that doorway, and I could hear Adrian's voice.
"My friend's got one," he was saying. "I've seen it, and he said this is the place he got it. Come on, don't play me."
"Sorry," came the gruff response. "No idea what you're talking about."
I slowly began scanning the cupboards and drawers, reading labels and looking for anything suspicious. There were a lot of supplies and not much time.
"Is it a money thing?" asked Adrian. "Because I've got enough. Just tell me how much it costs."
There was a long pause, and I hoped Adrian wouldn't be asked to show any cash since the last of his money had gone to promoting cancer.
"I don't know," the guy said at last. "If I was able to do this copper tattoo you're talking about - and I'm not saying I can - you probably couldn't afford it."
"I'm telling you," said Adrian. "Just name your price."
"What is it you're interested in exactly?" the man asked slowly. "Just the color?"
"I think we both know," said Adrian cunningly. "I want the color. I want the 'bonus effects.' And I want it to look badass. You probably can't even do the design I want."
"That's the least of your worries," said the guy. "I've been doing this for years. I can draw anything you want."
"Yeah? Can you draw a skeleton riding a motorcycle with flames coming out of it? And I want a pirate hat on the skeleton. And a parrot on his shoulder. A skeleton parrot. Or maybe a ninja skeleton parrot? No, that would be overkill. But it'd be cool if the biker skeleton could be shooting some ninja throwing stars. That are on fire."
Meanwhile, I'd still seen no sign of what I needed, but there were a million nooks and crannies left to explore. Panic began to rise in me. I was going to run out of time. Then, seeing the darkened room, I hurried over to it. With a quick glance toward the store's front, I flipped on the light and held my breath. No one must have noticed anything because the conversation continued where it had left off.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," said the tattooist.
"That's not what the ladies are going to say," said Adrian.
"Look, kid," said the guy. "It's not even about money. It's about availability. That's a lot of ink you're talking about, and I don't have that much in stock."
"Well, when will your supplier deliver next?" asked Adrian.
I stared in awe at what I had found: I was in the room where the tattooing took place. There was a lounging chair - much more comfortable than the table I'd received my tattoo on - and a small side table covered with what appeared to be freshly used implements.
"I've already got some people wait-listed ahead of you. I don't know when there'll be more."
"Can you call me when you know?" Adrian asked. "I'll give you my info. My name's Jet Steele."
If not for my own tense situation, I would've groaned. Jet Steele? Really? Before I could think much more about it, I finally found what I'd been looking for. The tattoo gun on the table had its own ink container, but sitting nearby were several smaller vials. All of them were empty, but some still had enough metallic residue of their former ingredients to tip me off. Without even thinking twice, I quickly began recapping them and putting them in my purse. Nearby, I noticed some sealed vials full of dark liquid. I froze for a moment. Carefully, I picked one up, opened it, and took a sniff.
It was what I'd feared.
I screwed the lid back on and added those vials to my purse.
Just then, I heard a rattling behind me. Someone was trying to open the back door. I'd bolted it behind me, however, and it didn't give. Still, it meant my time for snooping was up. I was just zipping up my purse when I heard the store's front door open.
"Joey, why's the back door locked?" an angry voice demanded.
"It's always locked."
"No, the bolt was on. From the inside. It wasn't when I left."
Cue my exit. I flipped off the light and began hurrying back through the storage room.
"Wait!" exclaimed Adrian. There was an anxious note to his voice, like he was trying to get someone's attention. I had the uneasy feeling that the two guys who worked here were headed back behind the counter to investigate. "I need to know something else about the tattoo. Can the parrot also be wearing a pirate's hat? Like a miniature one?"
"In a minute. We have to check something." The voice was louder than before. Closer.
My hands fumbled as I unlatched the bolt. I managed it and opened the door, hurrying out just as I heard voices behind me. Without pausing to glance back, I shut the door and ran out the alley and up the street, back toward where I'd parked. I was pretty sure the guys hadn't gotten a good look at me. I think I'd just been a figure darting out the door. Still, I was grateful for the crowds of people on the street. I was able to blend in as I turned my attention to my car and unlocked the door. My hands were sweaty and shaking as I fumbled with the keys.