The Alchemist went to his Magikal Artes bag and spread the necessary tools out on the small rolling table along with some temporary inkwells. He laid the huge 'Grimoire', spell book in the middle. Sealed and sterile needles were placed next to the shining chrome of a filigreed tattoo gun.Over on the counter he lit a red pillar candle and scattered incense over a hot coal sitting in an ornate silver chafing dish. Thick white smoke filled the room with the scent of exotic resins. He set a CD in the CD-player and hit 'repeat all' then 'scramble'. The entire shop vibrated with brooding instrumental music. He pulled the rolling table with his equipment over to where she lay across the bench. Carefully he pulled from his Magikal Artes bag several ornate glass bottles with the special inks from his personal collection. The recipes for his inks were hard won and the ingredients very difficult to come by. Some of the inks glowed through the smoked glass. With steady hands he set to filling his. I tried to push at the light, to send it further out. Nothing happened. Okay, Sasha, don’t panic. I tried again, putting a little more will power into it. The light flickered but didn’t move. DAMN IT! I scanned the darkness, the realization that I wasn’t alone dawning on me. A thread of anger flared across my skin, leaving it feeling warm. ‘Come out you son of a bitch, I know you’re there!’ I shouted. Male laughter was my only reward to my bravery, but I knew who it belonged to. My anger deepened and I breathed one word, ‘Tannon.’ Suddenly he was there, standing beside the mannequin of the other man. Where my French consort had been sculpted and tanned, Tannon was, though muscled, lanky with a creamy complexion. His skin rarely saw the sun. His own black hair was expertly manicured in a business like style. The blue suit, the color of sapphires, was tailored to his build. His voice was deep and playful, ‘Hello, beautiful, did you miss me?’ ‘No.’ ‘Sure you did,’ he looked disdainful.
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