The Dragon's Hunt. Jane Kindred

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challenge him. But the “asshole” was himself. It occurred to him that perhaps this response wasn’t entirely healthy.

      Rhea’s expression was guarded. “So, did you? Get the tattoo to punish him, I mean.”

      Why did he get the feeling she was mad at him about it? “Maybe. I don’t know.”

      She laughed, obviously disbelieving. “How can you not know?”

      This was starting to go places he really didn’t want it to go. On the other hand, she already knew more about him than he knew about himself. What was the point in keeping what he did know a secret?

      “Because...I don’t actually remember getting it.” There. It was out. She was looking at him the way he’d expected her to. Not only did he have an alternate personality he had to tie up at night, he had blackouts and giant gaps in his history no sane person would have.

      “Neither of you remember getting the tattoo?” She glanced at his wrists. The way he was gripping the counter made the allrune and Mjölnir prominently visible. “Do you remember getting those?”

      He didn’t want to answer. But she already knew.

      “I only know they weren’t always there and they weren’t by choice. But when they were put there and by whom...?” He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. Jörmungandr...” He paused, the memory of buzzing tattoo needles tugging faintly at him. He remembered the aftercare, peeling back the gauze bandage and seeing the intricate black designs, holding his arm before the mirror and turning until he could see the shape of the coiling snake. “Jörmungandr, I think I had done myself. But that’s all I know.”

      Rhea studied him, trying to determine, no doubt, whether he was full of shit. “Do you have any long-term memory?”

      Leo gave her a half smile. “Are you analyzing me?”

      Her eyes narrowed. “That’s what he said.”

      “Well.” Leo shrugged and pushed away from the counter. “We both share the same skin.” He put his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable with her scrutiny. “So I promised to work off my debt. What else do you need done? I checked downstairs earlier and didn’t find any new graffiti, and I cleaned up a bit in here.”

      Rhea glanced around, her eyes taking in the gleaming hardwood. “Did you scrub the floor?”

      “Yeah.”

      She looked at him curiously. “I don’t have a mop.”

      “I just used a sponge and some warm soapy water. I followed up with a towel to make sure the water didn’t soak in.”

      She was still looking at him funny.

      “What?”

      “Nothing, I just—Well, I didn’t expect you to be crawling around on my floor on your hands and knees.” That little flush was back in her cheeks. “But thank you. It looks great.” She glanced around once more, avoiding his eyes. “I did want to go over the inventory. It’s not much yet, a dozen bottles of ink, a small supply of needles and accessories, and the disinfecting supplies. I started a spreadsheet to estimate how much I’ll need and how much this is going to set me back before I start to turn a profit, but I couldn’t get all the columns to add up.”

      “I can take a look at it for you.”

      “Could you? That would be great. Even if you could just finish entering the physical inventory and tallying it, that would really help. The more complex stuff can wait.”

      Leo smiled as Rhea fished the tablet out of her bag. “I’m pretty good with data. I’m used to working in a lab.”

      While Rhea pulled up the spreadsheet to show him how far she’d gotten, the bell on the door jingled. A woman who looked as much like Rhea as she could without being her twin—except for the long, dark chestnut hair in a high ponytail and bangs—stepped inside, blowing on her bare fingers and stamping her feet.

      “Goddamn. It’s colder than a witch’s tit.” She grinned as Rhea turned in surprise. “Hi, brat! I figured I’d come by and see your new digs while Rafe is busy dealing with the frozen pipes at one of his worksites.”

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