“He’s not my ‘fang,’” I said, staring back at Revenance. The vamp writhed, and with shock I realized what I’d thought was stylish frosting in his hair was actually sunbleach, where the light had blasted the strands to pale brittleness. “But he is a friend.”

I glared at the graffiti, at the live, hungry vines erupting from the wall and twisting through the air. They seemed to swat at me just for looking at them; but I was not deterred. It was just graffiti. Just ink on a wall. Whatever magic had animated it would slowly fade away, unless it had some source of external power, which was not likely on a dead brick wall.

Grimly I wondered whether the graffiti was powered by Revenance himself; vampires had powerful auras. But vampiric life was endothermic, sucking energy out of its surroundings. That’s why their flesh was often cold; that’s why necromancers considered them dead.

So, as fearsome as this thing was, it should run down-but I had no such limits. I was the tattooed, and my magic marks were powered by the life in my beating heart.

Time to draw my weapons.

“Keep this safe for me,” I said, pulling off my vestcoat and handing it to Gibbs. Then, gritting my teeth against the brisk January air, I pulled off my turtleneck, exposing a torso covered in dozens of intricate tattoos.

I’ve thought about this outfit carefully. It’s sort of my new uniform since I seriously decided to use my magic tattoos, and not just wear them. Tattoo magic works best when skin is exposed to the air-but I’m not gonna get naked in front of a bad guy. So my leather “pants” are actually chaps, unzipping down the seams quickly to leave me in cutoff jean shorts, and under my shirt is a black sports bra. Even the boots have side zips-I want to be able to run if I gotta, but still be able to peel them if I need the braided snakes on my ankles.

“Whoa,” Gibbs said, holding the leather and snakeskin in his hands like he was looking at his favorite collection of porn. “Didn’t expect that, girl-”