The new ghost hunter is finally starting to settle in to her surroundings. She is starting to hear the Call, just like R.J. and Valentine, and her new ink brands her as part of the counter-culture she has joined. But when the ghost hunters delve into another new world, one of drugs and delinquency, she might be out of her depth again...
“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Valentine. My hand was clasped in hers. She hadn’t let go yet, though I knew my palm was sweaty with nervousness and fear. “There’s still time to back out.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m sure,” I told her. I looked at the girl sitting on my other side. “Do it.”
I could feel the buzz of the tattoo gun all through my body, the vibrations reverberating into my core as the needle pierced my skin in a thousand tiny pinpricks. Though I started by gritting my teeth against the pain, I soon found that I was clenching my jaw for another reason entirely. The hard plastic seat seemed to amplify and redirect the vibration. I squirmed in my seat.
“Be still,” said Valentine, still holding my hand. I looked up at her in agony and she winked. She knew exactly how it felt. She traced her fingers along the back of my hand. My skin tingled under her touch.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to forget the sensation, but it was too strong to block out. As the tattoo artist worked, my discomfort grew, until I realized that I was rocking my hips in place ever-so-slightly against the plastic seat.
Valentine climbed onto the chair, straddling my hips. She put her hands on my chest and grinned as my eyes flew open. The tattoo artist didn’t even blink an eye. “If you won’t stay still, I’ll have to keep you still.”
This 9,000 word novelette is intended for mature audiences.
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