Amazon Ink

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning over a breakfast of apple pie, I got to hear about Harmony’s first two art classes-how utterly “crush” (I assumed that meant great) the project they were working on was going to be, how “down” (nice?) her teacher was, and most important, how “hot” (that one I understood way better than I wanted to) one particular boy was. The last part wasn’t directed at me. Actually, none of it was. Dana and Harmony had been giggling over the details for the past twenty minutes.

At the moment my daughter was acting a little too “average American teen” even for my liking. I picked up her backpack and shoved it onto her lap. “Time for school. Dana will be here when you get back.”

With an eye roll, she took my implied advice and trotted down the stairs.

I left for my office, where I barricaded myself in until lunch. Paperwork was stacked to my shoulders, and if I didn’t sign some checks, the Amazons wouldn’t be the only ones coming after me with sticks.

I’d signed my last John Hancock of the morning when there was a knock on my door. Expecting Mandy, I shouted for the person to enter.

Peter, again with the premium coffee, wandered through the door. The coffee and the cautious look on his face both warned me I wasn’t going to like the reason for his visit.

He shut the door behind him, but graciously waited for me to take my first sip to jerk the rug out from under me-not that I’d been feeling that secure on it anyway.

“How well do you know this Dana?”

I took another sip.

“It’s just…she’s been spending a lot of time with Harmony, and the other day I found something I thought you might want to see.”

I waited for him to hand me something, but instead he pointed to my computer. “It’s on there.”

Feeling more confused by the second, I rolled my chair backward to allow him space beside me. With a few clicks, he’d navigated his way to one of those social-networking sites where pseudomodels and dreaming-big bands posted pictures and music.

“Here.” He stepped back.

“You have got to be-What is this?” What I saw on the screen shocked me-pictures of obviously drunk girls hanging on boys and revealing more skin than an elephant in a bikini.

“Not here.” He clicked some more. “Here.” This page was a little less shocking, but only marginally. It seemed to be focused on body art-female body art. Again, it was obvious that wherever the photos had been taken, alcohol aplenty had been flowing.

The first row was butt shots-just generic run-of-the-mill angels and flowers, typical stuff for girls, if in a slightly tantalizing position. His finger pointed to the next row, three pictures over.

Dana hanging on a boy whose face wasn’t visible, but while little of the boy had made it into the shot, plenty of Dana had. Both of her breasts spilled from her bra. And clearly visible on top of the right one-her givnomai, a bee.

Answered my question about the Amazons getting lax.

“Damn it.” Stupid, stupid girl, didn’t she know…My eyes wandered to the row below and my brain froze.

The next row, not a single face was visible, but I didn’t need faces. From the growling bear and snarling leopard tattoos, I could identify the first two girls as easily as if they’d walked up and introduced themselves. The dead girls-their telioses immortalized for all to see.

“Whose page is this?” I asked.

Peter propped his butt onto my desk beside me. “Screen name is ‘tatluvr.’ That’s all I know.”

I blinked in frustration, then switched my concentration back to the screen. If the dead girls’ telioses were on here, were their givnomais too? Sure enough, a few pictures down from Dana’s, I spotted them. I couldn’t know for sure which image went with which girl-these pictures were much more focused on their breasts than Dana’s had been, but I knew without a doubt the tiger and even the octopus I was looking at were Amazon givnomais.

I wanted to investigate the site more, but not with Peter lounging next to me. I had to get rid of him, but first there was something I needed to know. “How’d you find this?”

He stared at the wall.

“You aren’t going to tell me you were just surfing and found this, because if you do…” I let the obvious say itself.

“You wouldn’t believe a client sent it to me?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

He tapped his finger against my mouse pad. “Harmony. She was complaining that you wouldn’t let her get a tattoo, and telling me ‘everyone’ had tattoos, even Dana. Then she showed me this. I guess Dana showed her the site, thinking some boy Dana liked would be pictured there.”

“Her baby’s father.”

“Yeah.” Peter looked at me, and I felt like the worst mother ever.

He held up both hands. “No judgments.”

No, of course not. I let it go, followed up on another point of interest instead.

“I didn’t realize you and Harmony talked.” First Dana, now Peter. Did my daughter confide in everyone except me?

His reply consisted of a sympathetic stare.

I picked up the mouse. Unable to resist, I clicked through the next few pages. There were at least three more photos easily identifiable as Amazon-one telios, a hare; and two givnomais, a salmon and a deer.

“We have to find out who set up this page.”

Peter didn’t ask why, just replied in a low tone, “You could call your detective friend.”

I glanced up at him, surprised by the mention of Reynolds, but even more so by the tone-as if the detective and I had, well, something going.

Alone in the basement with Reynolds, I’d felt an awareness. I couldn’t deny that, but in front of Peter I was confident we’d been nothing but professional, distant, even.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend.” Whatever had happened in Mother’s workout space didn’t make us friends.

“Really? He seemed kind of friendly.” Peter twiddled with the cord on my mouse. I stifled the urge to jerk the wire out of his fingers.

“Well, he isn’t. We aren’t.”

Peter shrugged. “None of my business.” But his expression said it was.

Feast or famine. I hadn’t had a man interested in me for a decade and suddenly I had two…kind of…maybe…I looked at Peter, tried to figure out what was going on in his head. Was he attracted to me? Was I attracted to him? Or was something about all the stress I’d been under doing weird things to my libido?

He leaned down. “Of course, it could be my business.” And he kissed me.

I think my heart stopped from shock-but it started back up again, double time.

His fingers cradled the nape of my neck, tipping my face to his. He tasted of premium coffee, hazelnut. Had to love a man secure enough to buy a flavored brew.

My hands somehow found their way to his knees and then I was standing, my legs between his, my fingers resting lightly on his hips. He didn’t change his grip, didn’t pull me closer, and I was afraid to move further myself, like any overt action on my part would cause him to pull away. As surprised as I had been when the kiss started, as his lips moved over mine and parts of me constricted that I’d forgotten could constrict, I knew I didn’t want the kiss to end.

But it did, and in as confusing a manner as it had started.

He pulled his mouth free, placed his hands over mine, and gave them a light squeeze. “So, you’ll talk to Harmony?”

My mind was foggy and my eyes were half closed. I fluttered my eyelids, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Talk to Harmony about our kiss? Was that necessary?

“She seems pretty taken with Dana, and after seeing this…well, you don’t want her to think flashing tattoos to get on some Web site is a good idea.”

Things were back in focus now, and embarrassment at how lost in the moment I’d become while Peter had clearly moved on settled in. I pulled my hands from his legs and stepped back. “Not too big of a worry. At least for a few years. Harmony doesn’t have any tattoos and won’t till she’s legal.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt…” Peter slid away from my desk. I turned-picked up a piece of paper and shoved it into a random file.

Fingers trailed down my spine, stopping right at the spot where my shirt separated from my jeans. Every muscle in my body locked up, while my heart jumped back into beating overtime.

“And let me know about that detective. I’m hoping he is my business.”

Before I could think of how to reply, he’d spun back around my desk and sauntered from the room.

I plopped into my chair with enough force it rolled backward two feet. After heel-walking back to my start point I stared at my computer screen, but I wasn’t seeing teenage girls exposing themselves for the camera, or even dead Amazons at the moment-my mind was in too big of a whirl.

I sat there another few minutes, then shook myself. One kiss and I lost track of everything else going on. Just showed humans had nothing on Amazons as far as being ruled by basic urges.

I forced my eyes and mind to focus. There were a lot of thoughts pinging around in my brain-Peter’s kiss and the idea that Reynolds was attracted to me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about either; my body was sure how it felt, but my mind, not so much. That Harmony was confiding in not only Dana, but also Peter-a man she had only met a little over a week ago-rather than me. The disturbing fact that Dana thought it was an okay idea to show my daughter a Web site with girls, Dana being one of them, obviously drunk and flashing skin. And finally, the biggie, that on said Web site there were pictures of both dead Amazon girls, not to mention the other girls who I knew from their art were also Amazons. Givnomais displayed for the world to see on the Internet…Someone in the tribe wasn’t doing her job educating these girls. It pissed me off.

I put my anger aside, for now.

I had to find out who took these pictures and posted them on the Web. I had to stop this leak, and in the process most likely I’d find the killer.

And while not a total technophobe, I had clue zero on how to do that. Except asking Dana. If she didn’t know, I might have to do something crazy, like be responsible and call the police.

Dana was back upstairs. I realized this as soon as I opened my office door-the smell of melting chocolate was a dead giveaway. As was the plate of freshly baked cookies sitting next to the group flash on the reception counter. They were still warm and gooey when I sank my teeth into one.

I followed my nose up the stairs. For all the smells filling the building, the kitchen was frighteningly clean. I stood there, trying to think where a pregnant woman who had just baked six-dozen cookies (neatly resting on wire racks I didn’t know I owned) and scrubbed a kitchen (even the dust bunnies that were normally stuck to the chair feet had been evicted) would go next.

I knew where I’d go-bed. With that in mind, I walked down the hall to the room recently assigned to Dana.

She was there, but she wasn’t sleeping. Somehow in the last four hours, in addition to her baking, she’d found a can of paint, pan and roller, and brushes. She was halfway around the room already.

Even if I hadn’t seen her givnomai on the Internet, I would have guessed it. No one but a bee, maybe a beaver, could be this diligent.

She turned when I entered. A streak of purple ran down her nose and dots of white adorned her hair. “You’re done. Did you want some lunch? I made a quiche.”

I’d never had quiche in my life, wasn’t 100 percent sure I knew what it was.

“Uh, no, actually I wanted to talk to you about something.” Facing her beaming eagerness made bringing up the Web site that much harder. Made it hard to believe the drunken girl I’d seen on the Internet and this one were one and the same person.

Finally, I just said it. “I saw the Web site.”

“Oh.” She picked up the brush and dabbed at a spot where the old institutional green was leaking through the purple. “Do you like this color? I thought about pink. It’s my favorite, but Harmony didn’t think it was a good idea.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because of the baby?”

She patted her stomach. “What about him?”

“Him. He’s a boy.”

The wrinkle morphed to a full-face frown. “I know.”

I took a breath, then let it go. The kid was going to be the first boy in history raised with a family of Amazons-a pink or purple bedroom was sure to be the least of his differences.

I paused, wondering if he, like many Amazons, would inherit skill sets from his grandmother. Pisto was a warrior and Dana a hearth-keeper. I had no idea which was more common in their line. Could a boy be a hearth-keeper? Of course, common belief was that males didn’t inherit any of the Amazon strengths, had normal mortal life spans and no powers; skill sets or lack of them should follow this same rule…

“Is it okay if I paint the furniture too? I was thinking white.”

Purple walls, white furniture…if the boy did get a skill set, I prayed to Artemis it was warrior. Or maybe on his thirteenth birthday I’d just gift him with a badger tattoo like the one Nick had been drawing. He’d need the added toughness to survive junior high.

Dana picked a plastic bag off the floor and pulled a white lace baby gown and bonnet from it. “I got this from Goodwill. What do you think?”

I rethought the tattoo. It would take more than a badger to handle the ribbing this kid was going to endure, even in liberal Madison.

“Pretty. I might have some of Harmony’s old stuff stashed somewhere too.” And none of it was pink or frilly.

“Really?” Dana pulled the gown to her chest and twirled. “I can’t believe how happy I am. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing.”

Just hearing those words made me cringe inside. I’d felt that way once, but I’d learned that things had a horrible way of twisting around and around again until the one worst thing you never dreamed would happen did.

And current times were far from certain. Still, I wasn’t going to stamp on Dana’s fluffy image of life. Maybe she was right. Maybe her life would be perfect from now on.

“About the Web site. I was wondering if you could tell me who put it together.”

“Oh, the one of our tattoos? I really don’t know. We went to a couple parties after the bar closed, and someone was passing around a phone. Most of the pictures we took ourselves.”

“You didn’t even know whose phone it was?”

She picked up a roller and started coating the wall in purple. “Didn’t seem important. It was just for fun.”

Fun. Some fun. I couldn’t help myself, my “mother” voice kicked in. “You know you shouldn’t show people your givnomai.”

Dana frowned, almost a scoff. “Everyone does.”

The importance of guarding your givnomai had been pounded into me by Bubbe, into all Amazons by their elders, I had thought. Yet another example of teenagers deciding they knew better. I wanted to shake Dana, then and there. Shake Alcippe or whoever had fallen down and not warned these girls about guarding their givnomais too. Of course, it went past that, showed how much the Amazons needed to change. The world was changing; if the Amazons didn’t change with it, they would be destroyed by enemies they never knew existed.

Who was I kidding? That’s exactly what was happening. I made a mental note to talk to Zery, to insist she get the older Amazons educated on today’s technology and the benefits and dangers that could come with it.

I tightened my jaw and resisted my desire to lecture Dana until I ran out of words and voice. I knew from experience with Harmony that reaction would just shut her down, make her see me as the enemy rather than the cool friend she could trust. And for now I needed to be that friend.

I let it go.

“So, how’d you even find out the pictures were on the Web?” I asked.

She took a step back to admire her work. “Same way. People at a party were talking about it.”

“But no one claimed the page.”

She filled in a spot of white with a quick hard turn of the roller. “Not that I heard.”

I left her alone, happy and sucking up paint fumes. She had been very little help, except to tell me she was no help so I could move on to step B-whatever that was.

Back in my office, I stared at the computer screen. I had told myself if I couldn’t figure out who had set up the page, I’d call the police-Detective Reynolds, to be exact. But now old loyalties were warring with that resolve.

Should I talk to Zery first? What if she didn’t want to tell the police? But if I couldn’t think of a way to track down the page’s owner, how could Zery?

I toyed with calling the social site and demanding their assistance, even went so far as to click around their “contact” page. There were all kinds of links to report abuse, but none that indicated they’d be willing to reveal who had set up a page. I had a feeling it was going to take a lot more than one parent’s outraged call to get that information out of them, especially since the pictures in question would garner at most a PG rating.

Which brought me back to Zery and Detective Reynolds. I was savvy enough to realize calling the detective would focus his attention back on me as a possible suspect-not that his attention had wandered too far from that direction anyway. I also realized Zery was stubborn enough and arrogant enough to refuse to let the police into what she saw as Amazon business. Knowing the queen as I did, she’d put together some kind of war party, march to northern California, and storm the site’s corporate offices first.

That would be lovely-computer programmers held hostage by a troop of six-foot-tall Amazon warriors.

Amusing as the image was-it also rang horribly possible.

I jerked open my desk drawer and rummaged for the card Reynolds had given me on his first visit.

So far as Zery was concerned, better to ask forgiveness than permission. Okay, not so much with a warrior; you might not survive the forgiveness stage. But since I was damned sure I wasn’t going to be gifted with permission, it was the only option left to me.

I picked up the phone.

Detective Reynolds was in.

“I found something I think you need to see,” I said, my eyes focused on the bear telios. If I concentrated on the girls, I wouldn’t think so much about how angry Zery was going to be when she found out I’d gone to the police before her.

“Really?” He sounded bored, but it was an act. There was a little lift on the “L” that gave him away. “And what would that be?”

“You near a computer with Internet?” At his affirmative, I read off the URL. “Scroll down to the third row, then over two pictures.”

“How’d you find this?” Tense-not bored at all.

“A client sent it to me. She liked one of the tattoos and wanted to see if I could replicate it. I recognized the bear and leopard from the pictures you showed me.” Peter had tried the story with me and it hadn’t worked. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t work with Reynolds.

“Quit the bullshit.”

Or not.

“You’re welcome,” I replied.

“Welcome, my ass. When are you going to come clean? Who are these girls and why won’t you tell me?”

Amazons, and because it wasn’t really my secret to give up. But maybe it was time, and maybe I could convince Zery of that…maybe.

I twisted in my chair and turned my back to the tattoos on my screen. For some reason I couldn’t face them right now. “I didn’t know those girls. I swear that.”

“But you know more about them than I do. I’ve run every check I can think of and come up with diddly-and not much of that. What do you know?”

I took a deep breath. I wanted to tell him. I really did, but…“I don’t know those girls. I had never laid eyes on them-” I cut off what I was about to say.

“Had never laid eyes on them? That didn’t sound complete.” He took a breath. I could tell he was struggling for control. “You had never laid eyes on them before what? That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? Finish the sentence.”

He was leaving something unsaid too-or else. Tell him what I knew or else…he’d arrest me? Question me? Make my life living hell? I didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. Still…“Before you showed up with those pictures.”

There was a muffled curse, then the sound of his phone being slammed down. I listened to the angry buzz of the dial tone, then slowly slid the handset back on the receiver.

Well, the ink was injected there. No going back.

Now to prepare Zery.