Fandom One Shots

Pins and Needles

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was almost time. Almost time to work her magic.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The agreement has always been that she must wait four days. That is the only way she could continue to procure her tattooing supplies. She had to wait four days, then she could do whatever she'd like with the ink leftover from each job.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The vial is there, on the desk. She always kept the bottles, labeled with the name of the unfortunate customer. That was her connection to them, to work her magic. She needed the ink.

Tick. Tick. Tick- DING.

It was time.

She picked up the vial.

The first step: read the label.

"Nancy Evans. Twenty-eight years old. First session of a sleeve: a twist of vines from wrist to elbow."

Poor girl. She'd never get that pretty tattoo finished.

None of them ever did.

The contents of the vial dripped steadily into the large bowl in the center of the counter. The sound was inaudible amongst the ticking of half a dozen other timers, their own vials lying in front of them and reflecting the flickering candlelight into strange shapes on the walls.

The blonde woman set the empty glass aside, stalking across the room to the shelf against the far wall.

"Oleander, Hemlock, Foxglove, and Yew. Azalea, Hydrangea, a deadly job they'll do." She sang sweetly, gently touching each bottle as she listed their names. Each bottle contained concentrated poisons derived from the pretty plants they were labeled as.

Swaying back and forth, she finally chose the bottle of crushed Yew seeds and carried it back to her work table, cradling it in her arms like it was her most valued possession.

Only a teaspoon was necessary. She picked up her measuring instruments and carefully tapped out the right amount of poison. Taking great care not to touch it herself, the woman picked up the paper that the little mound of dust was on and tipped it sideways into the bowl with poor Nancy's ink. She stirred it until it was all mixed together.

The candles lit at the edges of the table made the ink glow an eerie green. The blonde woman giggled and lit a match, dropping it on top of the solution. The flame spread along the surface until it was covered in fire.

"Habeo donum, mi domine daemonium. Prodiit praemium veritas." She whispered into the fire, calling forth her master. "I name thee by thy chosen name, I call thee forth, my purpose plain! My Lord Sonnaren, appear before me that I may pay tribute to mine judge and teacher!"

The flames leapt and she stepped back, dropping to the floor and bowing her head to the stone in submission.

The creature that stepped forth was skeletal, towering and terrifying. Its bony head was adorned with a ridge that circled its brow like a crown, with two curling horns protruding from long, greasy hair. Its eyes were pits of blackness, and when it opened its mouth, it displayed rotting, decaying teeth that had once been sharp.

The woman pressed herself to the floor more zealously as the creature's spined tail whipped over her head. Her master was agitated.

"Stand, Guinevere of Deamonne." The demon's voice rumbled through the room, grating at the woman's ears and ripping tattoo sketches off the walls.

She drew herself to her feet, but kept her eyes on the floor.

"What have you for me this night, mine Huntress?"

"The woman, barely twenty-eight. The vines encircle to snare her fate." Guinevere hummed sweetly, rocking back and forth with her arms limply at her sides. "Her mind shall feel the bite of pain, but in yew's snare, so still remain."

"Name her, Huntress."

"I name her Nancy Evans, my Lord and Sovereign. She visited the parlor but four days past, to start an art piece that would last."

Sonnaren picked up the bowl and poured the contents over his head. His entire body lit itself on fire and he breathed deeply, closing his eyes.

"Well done, Huntress. This quarry shall be payment enough. You live another day."

"I thank thee kindly, Lord Teacher." Guinevere smiled to herself. "And how now shall I live?"

"A thousand years and sixty days, before your soul becomes my prey." The demon fixed her with a chilling stare. "My hunt awaits."

Guinevere bowed herself to the floor again. There was a roar, like that of a fire consuming everything in its path, and when she raised her head slowly, her master was gone.

She made her way to her worktable again, picking up another vial and moving it with its timer to the center of the table. Holding it up to the light, she began to croon softly.

"Lily Ryan, sweet and bold, a bird's wing on her shoulder fold. But two more days, and then she'll see, that sweetest girls... belong to me...."

[A/N I attribute that attempt to translate into Latin to Google Translate. What it is supposed to say is: I have a gift, my demon lord. Come forth, my faithfulness reward.]