Chapter Text
It was the job offer that got Sisika Campbell to pack her bags, kiss her mother and Texas goodbye, and move to a single bedroom flat in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her choice had nothing to do with the colourful and cryptic dreams or coincidental signs pointing towards the location. No, it was the prospect of being well paid for doing what she loved in a highly reputable parlour. It was the pay raise, the offer of her own chair, and all the health benefits she could ask for in a job along with her new boss being an accommodating angel and securing her a primo flat suited to her tastes, within a short walk to the parlour and well within her budget.
Sisika would have been a fool to turn down the opportunity. She was more than happy to leave the mystic crap to her mother and her charms and witchy baubles. At twenty-seven she had long outgrown playing witch with her mother, grinding up herbs and calling to gods that never cared to answer. There was only headaches and heartaches down that route which had caused the young woman to hang up her broom, so to speak, years ago. Much to Rochelle Campbell's disappointment.
"Did you cleanse the flat?" Her mother's voice sounded tinny over the phone, evidence the storm back home was mucking up the connection. "Did you put up the sigils? They're in your essentials box."
"Momma," Sisika sighed as she sliced open the aforementioned box labelled in her mother's tidy cursive. 'Essentials!' the box proclaimed, but the contents hardly met muster. Oils, dried herbs, her old mortar and pestle, divination stones that had only spelled out nonsensical riddles, and other witchy stuff. Everything Rochelle felt her daughter might need to continue the practice of witchcraft and everything Sisika had been more than willing to leave behind. Yet she found herself plucking the round embroidered sigils out of the box to hang up. She may not be into the witchcraft any more, but they brought a sense of home to the unfamiliar flat. "Sigils going up now. Because they're pretty. Just that."
"Sissy, sweetheart," Oh no. She knew what the softness in her mother's voice meant. Sure enough, her mother started dredging up things left forgotten. Things left buried in the small Texas town she had been raised in. "I know you miss Luc and Rick-"
"Enough." Her tone as firm as possible, she shut that conversation down as quickly as her mother had dredged it up. Now was not the time. There would never be a time when she wanted to hear those names or face those memories. The slam of the wooden frames of the sigils sounded pathetic against the emptiness of the apartment that suddenly pressed in around her. "I'll call you back later. I'm tired and I've got a lot of unpacking to do, plus my boss wants me to drop by to get acquainted with the parlour."
"Uh huh." Rochelle Campbell could see right through her daughter's retreat for what it was, even from another state, and they both knew it. Thankfully the older woman sighed in defeat and let the subject drop. It was a dead horse the woman had beaten time and time again. "Alright. Don't push yourself too hard and call me when you can."
"Will do, momma." Sisika released the tension that had tightened her body with a sigh of her own. "If I don't call tonight I'll ring you up when I wake tomorrow. Take care and enjoy the storm for me."
"Oh, I will." Beneath her mother's chuckle she could hear a shuffle. Then the rattling clink of stones against the scratched hardwood table they used to have family dinners at. A familiar, soothing sound. Sisika could almost see the light of the chandelier hanging above the table glinting off her mother's rainbow hued divination stones. "Sissy, I..."
"Momma?"
"Nothing to worry about." Rochelle paused, the clinking informing Sisika that she was cleaning up the stones. "I love you, baby girl."
"Love you too, momma. We'll talk later."
The unpacking did not take Sisika long. She and her mother had lived a simple enough life, which meant the amount of boxes to cut open and empty was a low number. One box for the kitchen, one for the bathroom, two for the bedroom, and one full of books for the living room, and she was done. She would have to make her bed and put away the clothing left in a pile upon the dresser the flat had been furnished with, but that could wait.
Of course, there was the ‘Essentials!’ box, but Sisika scoffed at it and nudged it into the corner.
The shower beckoned her and she snagged a towel before stripping down and jumping into the warm spray. As decently priced as the flat was, she was more than pleased to discover the water pressure was nothing short of divine. She would really have to remember to thank her boss again for hooking her up with the place. What more could a girl ask for than a deep tub to soak in and a shower capable of blasting away soreness and the day’s grime? Maybe she would dip into that ‘Essentials!’ box after off to see if her mother had stashed any lavender oil in it. A nice, sweetly fragrant soak at the end of the week sounded like heaven.
Refreshed and clean, Sisika shut off the shower and wrapped the terrycloth towel around her before making her way back into her bedroom to rifle through her clothing. Although she was not reporting in for work, the prospect of meeting her boss was enough to make her dismiss more comfortable t-shirts in favour of a flattering peach blouse that went well with jeans that lined the curves of her legs before flaring out to make tugging on her ankle boots easy.
A swipe of eyeliner, a gentle sweep of lipstick, hair brushed free of tangles and pulled up into a ponytail, and she was ready to head out the door. She snagged her keys from the book by the door, shoved her wallet and phone into her back pockets, and left the flat behind to traverse the rapidly darkening streets of New Orleans.
Inked Bones, the stylised sign proclaimed above the parlour shouted with its sugar skull logo. Crimson velvet curtains blocked the view of the interior, but the neon OPEN sign hanging in the door let Sisika know there was life inside. The tattoo and piercing parlour had odd hours, compared to those she worked at back home, but nothing she could not handle. Open in the evening and late into the night, she would just have to adapt to being semi-nocturnal.
“Welcome to Inked Bones!” An orange haired woman behind the counted greeted her as soon as she stepped foot within the parlour. Gemstone studs glinting in her ears and along her right eyebrow, the woman somehow looked at home in the Victorian Gothic furnishings of the business’ waiting room. “Our pros are busy at the moment, but you’re welcome to have a sit and browse through our catalogs.”
“Oh, I’m good.” As good as her coworkers were supposed to be, Sisika was not the type to get anyone’s work inked onto her body. Only her own. “I’m actually here to see Tainn. He in?”
“Right here,” The voice was every bit of delicious as the tall, picturesque male that stepped out from the back through a brocade curtain. Long, oil-slick dyed hair cut with a half-shave draped over his shoulders. Silver glinted from snakebites in his plush lips as he smiled and a black KISS shirt clung to a body that could easily grace the cover of a magazine as it would a person’s bed. Dark eyes slid over her in a languid sweep before coming to a rest on her face. “Oh, please tell me you’re Sisika, because I’m always down to more eye candy in my shop.”
“Sisika Campbell in the flesh.” She gave him her best smile, the one that had gotten her on the good side of many warm-blooded males in the past. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“And you!” He was at her in a moment, shaking her hand warmly before spinning her around to the orange haired woman at the counter. Draping a heavily tattooed arm over her shoulder, he presented her to the clerk. “Mandy, this is the artist I snagged from Texas that I told you about!”
“Really?” Renewed interest brought a bounce to Mandy’s step as she abandoned her post to rush forward to circle Sisika like a hawk. “I’ve seen your work. Good stuff, clean lines. Definitely glad to have you onboard. You bareskinned?”
“Hardly.” Ducking free of Tainn’s hold, she lifted her blouse a few inches to bare some of the complicated ink that swirled and flowed over her back and onto her sides.
“Lickable.” Mandy praised with a wink and a playful grin, making Sisika wonder if the woman was entirely straight. “Just remember to wear something that shows off some of that work when you’re on the clock. The more ink shown the better!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She could understand why showing her ink would be necessary. It went a long way easing the minds of nervous customers. Bearing at least some of the ink opened her up to their questions and helped overcome any fears they may have of the needle. “Anything else I should know about?”
“If you’re ever on the floor when Big Ted comes in, don’t give him your digits.” Mandy offered without explanation, not that Sisika cared for any. She had no intention of giving anyone her number. “Oh, and if he causes you any trouble let Tainn or me know. We’ll handle him.”
“I can handle myself, but good to know you’ve got my back.” She gave them both a grin. “Okay, so I can’t stay long. I still have to get some food in my pantry and some Z’s in my life, but can I see my chair?”
“Of course!” Tainn motioned Mandy back to the counter before steering Sisika towards the brocade curtain he had originally appeared through. The curtain revealed a hallway studded with colourful doors. She craned her head, examining the art and names on each one they passed before he stopped in front of the only bare, black door in the line. “This is yours. Feel free to decorate the door however you like. Just plop your name somewhere in the mix of it all.”
“Sweet.” Excited by the prospect, Sisika’s fingers itched for a pencil to start sketching out the possible designs that would soon mark the door as hers. Tainn chuckled at her before opening the door and giving her a gentle push inside.
The Victorian Gothic theme of Inked Bones ended within the workspace itself which had a clean, well-lit industrial vibe. Sisika beelined to the chair, checking the dials and buttons that would allow her to position her customers just right to give as much comfort as possible while having them sitting or lying for her tattoo gun to paint art into their flesh. Top of the line, better than the one she had to share with another artist at her old job, and the shelves lining the wall were fully stocked with everything she would need. Plus it even had a cubby sizable enough to fit her kit and a full sized, three-segment mirror for her customers to examine her work when she finished with them.
“I take it you like it?” Tainn asked from the door, smile on his handsome face as he watched her dart around the room and ruffle through the supplies. “Like the door, feel free to give the room your personal touch. Just leave some space on the walls for any pics your people might toss your way.”
“It’s perfection.” Sisika might not be the hugging type, but she had the urge to do just that as she took in the room, already imagining what it would look like soon. “When can I start?”
“A week.” Her boss answered with a shrug. “Should be enough time for you to spruce things up and get everything sorted to your tastes. You know our times. You can come in an hour before opening to work on the door, or just after closing to do it. The room itself you can work on anytime in between.”
“Awesome.” She could do it. A week was more than enough time to go ham, especially with the anticipation of getting to work fueling her. Turning to Tainn, she could not hide the smile that stretched ear to ear. “I know I thanked you before, but I can’t thank you enough. For the job, the apartment, everything! This is just the greatest!”
“No need to thank me,” The bashful smile suited him well. “We’re a family here and we take care of our own. If you need anything, just shoot me or Mandy a text. We’ve got you, girl.”
After saving Mandy’s number into her phone, she wished the pair a good night before heading into the star-studded night air with a bounce in her step. She felt giddy, excited in a way she had not been in years. Too eager to start sketching for her room and door, she dismissed the earlier plan of filling her pantries and checked the GPS on her phone for the nearest place that served food at this hour.
A bar with good ratings, a live band, and a boast of authentic Cajun cuisine led her down the street and up the block from Inked Bones, past a small store she purchased a notebook and pencil from, to the doors of Sanctuary. Flashing her ID at the blond bouncer out front, she was let into claim a set in a decently lit corner and begin her rough drafts of the imagery she had in mind.
As excited as she was, she missed the whispers in the wind and the spiralling energy of the city that hinted at what was to come. Whispers of magick that had never turned its back on her, even after she had turned her back on it.