Blind Shrike | Page 7

smelled musk and ambergris, cook fires and sewage. It reminded him of the Moroccan souks, but he was very far away from Morocco. In fact, very far away from anything familiar right now.
A sense of relief came over Spyder when he entered the tattoo studio and closed the door behind him. A couple of college girls were inspecting the flash designs on the walls and giggling nervously to each other. They didn't have wings or horns or extra eyes. They were a beautiful sight. Spyder could hear Lulu in the back with one of her piercing customers. "You'll feel a little pressure and then a slight sting, but that's all," she said. "Relax."
Hungry for a normal moment he spoke to the college girls. "If you have any questions about the tattoo work, that's what I do around here, so you can ask me."
The girls looked at him and the taller one, a caf?2dau-lait brunette with bright green eyes, said, "How much for the black panther? That's a real traditional one, right?"
"Yeah. All the pieces on that wall go way back. And we charge by the hour, so the price depends on how big and where you want it. We have a hundred dollar minimum."
The girls whispered to each other, then turned to Spyder. "We're going to think about it. Do you have a card?"
Spyder went behind the counter and found one of the studio's cards. He felt self-conscious handing it to the brunette. The card had a symbol on it. Spyder knew it was something Celtic, but he had no idea what it meant.
"Thanks," said the dark haired girl, letting her fingertips brush against Spyder's as she accepted the card. Under normal circumstances, Spyder would have taken that as a signal to go into his charming act, complete with self-effacing patter and a certain calculated awkwardness that gave him the look of someone who might need just a little looking after. Today, however, all he could muster was a tired smile. "Any time," he said and turned away from the girls, looking for his appointment book so he could cancel everyone set for that day. Maybe for the rest of the week, he thought.
His head and body ached and his hands shook a little as he leafed through the appointments. "Every rabbit hole has a bottom," he said quietly, remembering something that Sara Durango had told him after giving him his first hit of acid when he was fourteen.
Lulu and her female client were coming out of the back room when Spyder settled on the numbers he needed to call. He didn't look up, not ready to deal with the world, much less make eye contact with Lulu or the girl.
"Remember," said Lulu, "you're going to want to soak in a sea salt bath and use that antibiotic cream every day."
"Every day," said the other woman. Spyder heard the little bell over the door ring as she left.
Spyder had to concentrate to make his fingers punch the right numbers into the phone. It rang a few times then gave a subtle click as it switched over the voice mail. "Hi. This is Spyder Lee over at Route 666 Tattoos. Sorry, but I have to cancel our appointment for this afternoon." He settled back in his seat, giving Lulu a pained smile. "I'm not feeling that well and...holy shit...."
Spyder set down the receiver and stood up, coming around the counter. Something was terribly wrong. He took Lulu gently by the arm. "Goddam," said Spyder -leading her to a chair. "What happened to you?"
Lulu looked at him, puzzled. "Nothing happened to me. You're the one who got stomped, 'member sugar?" She laid her hand on his cheek. The hand was cold and the skin was stiff, like dried-out leather.
"What happened to you?" Spyder repeated more insistently.
Lulu kept smiling. She had to. She had no lips. All the flesh from the lower part of her face had been cut neatly away, leaving her with a permanent leer. She wore a low-cut shirt and her dry white skin was criss-crossed with old scars and stained stitching. Spyder thought of the cheap boots and vests he'd bought on teenage roadtrips to Tijuana. Bad leather sewn together crudely and carelessly. Most disturbing of all were Lulu's eyes. They were gone. Over her empty sockets torn scraps of paper were taped, each with a smeared, childlike drawing of an eye.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
The exposed muscles around Lulu's mouth twitched a little. She reflexively pulled away from Spyder and covered her face with her hands, then quickly lowered them. "Oh my god, " she said. "You really had your brains rearranged last night."
"Tell me I'm fucked up," Spyder said. "I've been seeing the most horrible shit all day. Monsters. Buildings that aren't there. Dead people."
"Not dead,