My Soul Tattooed In Black- Part 7
I squeeze his hand a little tighter, but I can feel the heat starting in the corners of my eyes and a lump forming in my throat.
“I’m sorry. It’s because of me that we are even in this mess.” I feel the first hot tear leak down my cheek. I scrunch up my face, closing my eyes to prevent anymore from falling. Cyrus is in distress; I cannot fall apart. Gentle warmth runs up my cheek, where the track of my tear was cooling. I open my eyes to see Cyrus with a heartbreaking juxtaposition of sad eyes and a warm smile. His hand is cupping my cheek, telling me that I am not alone. It’s a little easier to chase my tears away now.
“Well it could be worse. You could be dead.” Cyrus’ joke falls flat and brings the tears flooding back out of my control. I look away from Cyrus.
“That was the plan, either kill your father or antagonize him so much he kills me.”
“You wanted to die?” His voice is breaking. I turn my face back to him, but I don’t actually look at him. I watch the flames flicker in the sconce on the wall behind him. “Why would you want that Sabrine?”
“That has always been my plan, even before I met you. Die in the process of completing a mission.”
“Don’t look at them child,” A mother spoke to her son. Their homespun clothes told me that they were from one of the poorer districts of Krisa, probably around the Northwest gate.
“But their skin is so pretty, mama.” His eyes never left the skin of my Uncle Asa.
“Devastation can look beautiful Henri. This is a lesson you must learn now, because otherwise the del Fee’s will bring you a beautiful tragedy to deal with.” The fear in their eyes was clear even from across the courtyard of the Temple. If possible my family takes the back entrance by our house into the city, but in urgent situations my Uncle Asa will leave through the Temple gates. This was not the first time I saw people shrink away from my father and Uncle Asa.
They didn’t get home until late that night. I waited for them with chamomile tea and fresh ginger cookies. If a mission was urgent enough to make them go out the front gate just after getting a tattoo than it must have been important. My father and Uncle Asa come in through the back and take seats at the small tea table in front of the large stone fireplace in the kitchen. I watch as my father’s shoulders hunch over and he rests his forehead on his clenched fists and my Uncle Asa rubs his hands over his face, there are new stress lines around his eyes. I set the large mugs and plate of cookies in front of them. My father jumps and turns to face me, dagger drawn from the hidden sheath in his sleeve.
“Oh Sabrine, it’s only you. Why aren’t you in bed, dew drop?” Instead of returning the dagger to its sheath my father starts twirling it between his fingers. The thick calluses on his hands prevent it from drawing blood.
“You left so quickly. Astridore said you would need something to calm you down when you got home.”
My uncle brings his hands from his face and wraps them around the mug. He lifts it close to his nose and breaths in the calming scent of chamomile and I watch the tension leave his shoulders. He sets the mug down without drinking anything and rolls his head in a circle, trying to get rid of any excess tension in his neck. “You are a blessing child.”
“There are ginger cookies too.”
My uncle Asa laughs and picks up a cookie, dunking it into his tea and biting into it. “Did Astridore tell you to make these too?” I know he is teasing me, but sometimes I feel like my family thinks I’m lying about my conversations with Astridore.
“Don’t forget to ask them to show you their newest tattoo.”
“I’m supposed to ask to see the tattoo from the mission you went on tonight.” My father looks shocked. I don’t know why he is so surprised.
He and my uncle exchange glances before my father speaks, “Why do you want to see it Sabrine?”
“Do I need a reason?” I don’t like this defensiveness in my father. It’s not like I don’t know what happens on missions. Baba was very clear about what I will have to tattoo onto people’s skin when I get older.
“It’s not important, dew drop. Don’t think about it anymore. Give me kiss and head up to bed.” I cross my arms and quirk an eyebrow at my father. I am not a child that will be diverted from Astridore’s orders anymore.
“Astridore told me. I need to see them.” My father’s shoulders collapse and he sheaths his dagger in order to wrap his hands around his mug, refusing to give me any information. My uncle stares at my father while he rolls up the left sleeve of his shirt to show me the only tattoo on his arm that is still black. There in the bow of his elbow were the words Destroy Lucrum. “What does that mean?” I watch as the black slowly leeches out of the tattoo, to be replaced with deep purples and reds. It looks like a permanent bruise on my uncle’s skin.
“It means there was a lot of death tonight,” my father speaks into his mug, looking empty of all hope.
“What happened?”
My uncle Asa answers, “We were sent to terminate the Lucrum family for reasons your Baba did not tell us.” This shocks me. Missions involving death are always explained. Astridore doesn’t want any unnecessary strife; so even if the tattoos are brief the matriarch explains the missions.
“They did what they were told, but you Baba gave them the wrong instructions. She cannot hear me as clearly as she used to. They were supposed to stop the Lucrum family from putting dirty money into the economy of the city. I did not wish for their deaths. I gave your Baba the mission ‘Stop Lucrum.’ There was much unnecessary blood tonight, but I will not tell them that. This will weigh on their souls for the rest of their lives. They don’t need to know they had wrong information.” I stood, frozen in the kitchen, realizing that my Baba was either losing her power or she was openly choosing to change missions.