"No," I said, staring at the werewolf a bit sheepishly. We were both holding our hands carefully, mirroring each other, and I'd caught a lively spark in his eyes that seemed to promise that he was interested in more than dinner. "That wasn't what I was worried about."

"What then?" he asked, handing me the photograph.

I ignored him, holding the photograph gingerly, trying to parse it. It depicted a… stone carving of a wolf-a wolf in chains, which looped around it in an elaborate design.

"A control charm?" I guessed.

"I'm told you are the best," the werewolf said. "Seeing your work-" he stared hungrily, no, appreciatively, at my arms-"I'd trust no one else. Can you ink the image on me?"

I pocketed it. "Of course, but I have to get this vetted by a local witch. I don't ink marks I haven't done before without a second opinion-you never know what lurks in the magic."

The wolf pursed his lips. He had nice lips. Very nice lips, and a strong jaw beneath the scraggle. I notice these things.

"Of… course," the werewolf said. "But this cannot take too long-"

"She can do it," Spleen said, jerking forward slightly. "Believe me. Dakota, give him the show. He needs to know what he's buying-"

"No need," the wolf said, eyes fixed on me. "I can see the magic in her marks."

I held his gaze, then cracked my neck a little and prepared to breathe a word. It didn't really matter what word; an old-school magician or one of my Wiccan friends would no doubt have a whole vocabulary of nonsense for every different occasion. But the specific word didn't matter: with magical tattoos, all that mattered was the intent of the wearer.

"Show him," I said, and the tiniest magical tremor rippled through my body, the barest fraction of power, gleaming down my tats, spreading through the vines, illuminating the scales, the feathers, the wings in a sparkling array like a cloud of fairy dust marching down my skin. I even made the wings of the butterfly on my left wrist lift up and flutter in the air. The big bad werewolf's eyes lit up like a little child, dancing over my form, drinking in the magic, edges crinkling up in a smile.