Saint Death Read Free

glowing red eyes that followed you wherever you went and the words ALWAYS WATCHING.
    He was dressed in an oversized black t-shirt, double or triple XL by the looks of it, that ran on past his waist half way down his dark-colored Dickies shorts. There was a blade tucked into the lower pocket, the glistening silver handle the only warning it was there, like a snake hiding in tall grass waiting to strike. His black socks were pulled up to his shins and below them he had on brand new black and white Nike sneakers. Behind his ear was a rolled cigarette. His sunglasses were flipped up on top of his head even though it was night and they were inside a club, which Alexis thought was strange at first. His arms were covered in a series of images from angels and saints to naked women with big breasts and low-rider cars and hundred dollar bills. Most of these were crudely etched into the skin, the color of the ink a dirty ash brown like the kind inmates made from cigarettes mixed with pen ink and other equally toxic materials in the prison reality television shows she'd seen on cable. At each of his elbows were empty patches of unmarred skin, ringed by spider web tattoos that seemed to move as he flexed his elbows. Running down his wrist was a tattoo rosary that ended in another spidery tattooed web on the back of his hands. Inside more stick figure scribbles wriggled across his wrinkled skin like flies caught in a web waiting to be eaten alive. On his knuckles he'd tattooed the words PURO VIDA in empty outline letters.
    Shortly after they'd invited themselves into the girl's booth, Christie sat in Hector's lap, claiming him. She had a thing for breaking in shy boys and deflowering geeks. Although Hector didn't seem like the typical kind of tech nerd that Christie liked to teach the ropes, his lack of reply was more than enough to keep her intrigued. That meant that Alexis was paired up with Angel, which was fine as far as she was concerned. There was something dark and mysterious about him that she yearned to explore. It was only after she began running around as Christie's fearless sidekick that she'd discovered this surprisingly reckless side of herself had been well concealed all along. She could no longer deny it and didn't care what other people thought. The truth was that dangerous men left her feeling sexually aroused and she craved that rush. Angel poured her a fresh drink. She stared in his dark eyes, her clit throbbing between her legs.
    I wonder if he's rough in bed, she thought as the room began to swim from all the alcohol. Will he leave marks on my arms? My ass? My throat?
    The thought sent thrills through her. They'd gotten into the habit of trying to one up each other, so when their new friend Angel had suggested they drive north to an all-night rave in the desert Alexis was the first to say yes. They took Highway 19 north towards Todos Santos. His car, a black Nissan Sentra gone dusty gray like a fading shadow, was so old she felt every bump in the road. Angel turned up the stereo, the blown speakers oozing electronic music into the interior of the jalopy like poisonous gas. After a while they turned off onto a bumpy dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Alexis remembered wondering to herself how he knew where to turn, since there were no markers. They drove in darkness, the sky above a brilliant display of milky stars twinkling down upon them with no light pollution to obscure them. In the distance she could see the ocean, the moonlight reflecting off the frothy churn of spume as the waves crashed and receded again and again. They turned right, veering towards what looked like a small village with metal shacks ringing a communal space and a large barn off in the distance. Alexis could just make out the silhouettes of a dozen or so men and women, like unstitched shadows running wild. They darted back and forth against the backdrop of the largest bonfire she'd ever seen, with flames that climbed like forked demon tongues