Her question, I understood, encompassed much more than just the tattoo on my lower back. The tattoo was merely the symbol. When somebody mentioned it,...I knew what they were really enquiring about. I was the one who experienced it, but they seemed to quickly accept it for a fact. They didn’t have a way to explain it, certainly not rationally, but they seemed to know in their hearts, their souls … yes, their spirits … that I had experienced something rare, real, and extraordinary. Maybe it was. She hadn’t told anyone. She started painting and kept more to herself, not actually helping in the physical labor like she used to. Now she just took care of the business part, painting in her spare time and listening to the cd he had left behind for her. There were only three songs on them. He had recorded them himself and had written them for her. I always wanted to be a muse, she thought, smiling to herself. But why did he go? Her question continued to go unanswered. An art competition was. Let me see you nails."Jacque reluctantly took his hands out of his pockets and folded hisfingers into his palm as a man would do to show them to me."No, no, not like that. If you have pride in how your hands look you willsplay your fingers wide and with your palm out."I showed Jacque how I inspected my nails, as a woman would do, proudlydisplaying each painted gem.Jacque looked around the street and then help his hand and fingers out asI had instructed him to do."That's better, dear, they do. "That's all I ask." She looked atme, confused."Rachel," I said, gesturing that I knew she had silently asked what nameI would prefer to be called by."Just give it a chance, Rachel. Don't throw away your destiny." For now, Mother." Necro's words began to hang in my mind. "Mother, wasI an only child?" I asked."I see you've met your half-brother. It is true that you are my onlychild. However, I was not the first woman to have your father's child.Before I met him, he had a thing for demonic whores..