"Is that-" Spleen breathed, eyes gleaming, reaching out for the horn.

"Yes," I snapped, "mitts off. It's naturally shed, vestal gathered. I need needles made from untainted horn to ink a white charm-this is a white charm, isn't it?"

"A… Nazi… white charm?" Spleen asked, perplexed.

"The Nazis had candy and ice cream, didn't they?"

"Well…"

"Just because Hitler painted pictures of Baby Jesus, Jesus's image didn't suddenly 'go bad,'" I said, checking the bottles of ink. Newtseye green, nightshade black-I'd need a replacement for my cinnabar red; a recent FDA study had linked it to melanomas, even when inked with the healing power of free-range horn. I stood there a moment, spinning the newtseye in my hand, watching it glimmer, when I started to get a sinking feeling that I was getting ahead of myself. The design was made by Nazis. There were no obvious swastikas or more subtle black magic marks on it, but really, I knew nothing about this tattoo… or its future wearer.

"Look, Spleen, I only ink white or grey."

"That looks green," he said, somehow playing dumb and wheedling at the same time.

"You know what I mean," I snapped. "What do you know about this tat, other than what he told you?"

Spleen looked at me helplessly.

"What about Wulf? Other than the obvious?" Nothing. "Who recommended him to you?"

"I, uh…"

"So he found you, is that it?" I kneaded my brow. "So you know zip-"

"He seemed genuine," Spleen repeated. "And he paid a lot of money-"

"How much?" I held up my hand. "How much is my cut?"

"I… dunno?" Spleen said. "I mean, how much would you charge-"

"Stop being a dick," I said. "And don't lie. I'll have him under my needle for…" I squinted at the screen "… three or four hours. I guarantee you, he'll spill the details."

"Seventy-five hundred," Spleen said.