Dance By Midnight Read Free

lips as he twisted his head toward his right shoulder. "You look different, Dags. I almost didn't recognize you."
    "I look different?" I was in a bed, my shirt missing—in fact everything was missing!—in what looked like a spare bedroom. I figured that because a few cardboard boxes were stacked in the farthest corner, blinds covered the windows, and a set of golf clubs were propped up by a closet door. Sticking out of the closet was a weight bench and accessories. I poked at his upper arm. It felt like steel under his skin. "You been working out?" I wasn't joking. Mike was wearing a 'wife beater' t-shirt and he looked like a body builder.
    "I keep in shape more now than I did." He stood and that's when I saw he'd been sitting on what looked like a bar stool. "But you look…are you taller now?"
    "My old clothes don't fit." I pushed myself up onto my elbows and then made it to a sitting position with my legs off the bed. I also made sure the sheets kept my privates private. "A lot's happened, Mike, since we saw each other. A fucking hell of a lot. The problem is—I can't remember the most recent year."
    "You lost a year?"
    "Yeah."
    "Sam called you a Guardian."
    "Yeah."
    "What does that mean?"
    "I have no idea."
    "That's 'effed up, Dags. So…you got the tattoos removed." He pointed to my hand.
    I looked at the palm. "You knew about the tattoos?"
    "Well yeah. Stella called and told me what you did, wanted me to come and blast your ass for letting some complete stranger brand you. Don't you remember?"
    Stella…Rosenberg. She'd been my landlady…among other things.
    "Someone branded him?" Sam came to the door then, a mug in her hand. She looked different. Her hair was pulled back from her face on the sides and the makeup was toned down. The mark under her left eye was still there and I leaned more toward it being a tattoo. She handed the mug to me. "It's hot so grab the handle."
    I did and she was right, it was hot. I held it under my nose. It smelled like peppermint and honey. "What is it?"
    "My version of a hot toddy. It'll put some color back in those cheeks."
    Mike nodded to her. "Sam's a great healer. It's sort of her specialty."
    "I needed a healer?"
    "You remember what the Cherubim did?"
    I sipped the toddy. It was spicy and sweet. I liked it. "I remember it hurt."
    "She broke your head, Mr. McConnell."
    "Just call me Dags."
    "That's a funny name."
    "So's Sam. Rhymes with Spam."
    She looked at Mike. "I say we roast him. I can sell his clothing and the SUV."
    I glared at her but didn't comment. I wanted more of the hot toddy. My headache was gone but I still felt woozy.
    "So." She leaned towards me. "Branded?"
    I repeated what Mike and I'd already talked about before she came in. "And yeah, it was a stupid thing to do. But like I told him, I didn't remember having it done. I went to one of their rituals and the dude in charge said it was for purification for me and three others because we were going to represent the four corners—"
    "Quarters. Circles don't have corners. Basic geometry." Sam smiled.
    I glared. " Quarters . I was designated air and I drank something in a chalice—"
    "You didn't ask what it was?"
    "No."
    "And you drank it?"
    "Yeah."
    "You knew these people?"
    I set the mug on a nightstand by the bed. "Look, I already admitted it was a stupid thing to do because when I woke up my palms were tattooed."
    She reached out and took my wrist. Her fingers were thin and her nails buffed.
    "He had them removed and doesn't remember it," Mike said.
    "Oh…they're not removed. They're still there." She pulled my hand flat, pulling my fingers back to a point where I winced and tried to pull it away. "The marks are under the skin. Looks like…something integrated the…." She stopped and looked at me. " Who did this?"
    "I don't know the tattoo artist's name—"
    "Uh uh. I'm asking who authorized this? Where did this symbol come from?"
    I sighed, feeling as embarrassed now as I'd been then about my own stupidity.