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“Show me what you like.”
She flipped the pages for several minutes, finally placing her finger down. “This one.”
Gaze dropping, I nodded. Perfect.
“You can do it now?”
“Yep.” I ticked my head toward my personal tattoo station. “Take a seat over there while I get things ready.”
Gina sat on the chair, taking in the walls covered in original artwork and photos of completed projects. Some of them were extensive murals, full sleeves or back pieces, and other intricate designs I’d been enthusiastic about sketching, and I was proud of the final result. “These are beautiful, Diablo. You really have an eye for detail.”
“Thanks. I believe so. Definitely worked hard enough to get to that point.”
Gina closed her eyes briefly, opening them as she exhaled.
I held up the gun, pulling my stool close. “Ready?”
“Yes. Let’s do it.”
THE GUN PRESSED TOGina’s skin as the first drops of blood appeared, slowly beading on the smooth, flawless surface. I’d worn gloves as I always did, careful not to come in direct contact. I only touched the crimson fluid when absolutely necessary, trying my best not to trigger my unpredictable gift.
My thoughts began to swirl, a sudden muddy conversion of my past and present, building into a vortex that jolted my consciousness. The Reaper. He sensed something sinister in Gina’s memories.
Focusing on the ink beginning to form on Gina’s skin, my hand steadied, and I felt my Reaper pushing forward. In the past, when these incidents occurred, I’d been too young to understand their importance. Now, after many years of developing my abilities and bonding with the Reaper, I knew when to let him lead.
He saw things I didn’t. Could discern truths I’d never know without his connection. He tied threads to invisible links like the golden one forged long ago with Thunder. And now, he weaved intricate webs, collecting more souls that needed our protection. We’d ensure the evil that dared to enter Nevada and attempted to harm innocents met the Reaper’s blade.
The Reaper might be a beast born from darkness, but he forever yearned for the light to wash his sins free and gain peace for the brutal acts he committed.
My eyelids fluttered, and the shadows emerged from the walls, creeping closer until I no longer felt my fingers on the tattoo gun. My Reaper had taken over, leaving me in a peaceful dreamlike state that would last until he finished his masterpiece.
Anita was the first to receive ink from my Reaper, but not the last. Each of my brothers had tattoos that proudly displayed our club emblem with the skull and crown. I’d applied the Reaper’s skill on numerous occasions, and most of the ink my brothers wore exclusively originated from Revelations Ink.
I liked to think my Reaper got a kick out of the name.
My eyes grew heavy, and my head bobbed, slipping away as I fought a wave of fatigue. Right before everything went dark, I noticed my fingers pressing to Gina’s skin without a glove.
Something sinister . . .
Flashes of Gina at different ages zoomed through my mind. A child in blonde pigtails. Several years later, as she danced in a studio with other girls her age, a bright smile on her lips. A developing young woman, laughing with friends at school. And then a beautiful sixteen on her birthday. Time continued, and an image of her softly cooing to a dark-haired baby caused a smile to appear on my face. Rev.
More images. More moments. None caught my Reaper’s attention until a house appeared engulfed in fog.
The Reaper rushed us inside.
Gina lay on the floor on her side, clutching her belly. One hand cradled her swollen stomach as she attempted to crawl across the carpeted floor. Blood coated her inner thighs as she groaned, panting through harsh breaths as her body seized in a wave of agony.
“Not now,” she pleaded out loud to the empty room, “please.”
“Gina! Where the fuck are you?”
She jolted, her face betraying the reason for her reaction. One eye swelled half shut, and her bottom lip trembled. A child’s cry echoed from a room down the hall.
“Can’t you make him shut up!?”
“Please,” she whispered. Her mouth opened in a silent cry when a man stomped toward her, shouting for her to move.
He kicked her stomach as she screamed. “We don’t need another mouth to feed, you worthless whore.”
