Dag had been creepy, but nice. He had explained most of the things to me. How since I was the reaper, I was responsible for most of their deaths. Even if I didn't know it yet.
Slowly I would kill each and everyone of them off.
One by one.
Slow, letting it sink in that they were dying.
But it never seemed to me that I could do that.
As I screwed around with my dagger I realized that it had several buttons. One button, turned this little dagger into a huge chainsaw, which despite it's size, it was really light. Another turned it into a sword, then a wooden stick with a sharp end, chains, and a pen. The pen was unclear to me. But I guess it would come in handy.
Dag explained to me that I'm going to be invisible when I'm in hiding, when I want to or when I'm in danger. Not everyone can become invisible. Only a few of us. But whatever.
The cold Chicago air bit back, but I was warm.
Let me explain a little more.
My hair was now floor length, I kept it up in a pony tail. It was cherry red, at least until you reached my roots which were black. I had on a pair of black skinny jeans with red skulls painted on the bottom of the pant legs. My red shirt matched my hair, black thread, red fabric. These Converse I had on were red, with black and white accents.
I had on a black silk tie, it was small but looked very sleek. Somehow I hadn't noticed the silver bangles that had appeared on my now ink stained arms. The number thirteen on top of my hand, the bar code on m wrist. More lines had flooded my arms, forming flowers, skulls, hearts, weapons, anything.
My nails had turned shiny black, permanently. Something I hadn't realized, usually when I looked at my wrist I see those blue veins running down. Now, I see white veins. White. Snow white. I had to know, I pulled the dagger out and pricked my finger, needing to check to see what my blood color was.
Now the prick didn't hurt, it was like I hadn't done it.
But the white liquid coming out told a different story, white blood.
"Are you okay?" Some man asked me
"I'm fine" I saw his eyes look at my finger, he saw the white blood
"What number are you?" He knew what I was
"Thirteen, you?"
"Ten" He showed me the rugged silver imprint in his hand
"Which one are you?" I asked
"I'm the wizard" He whispered
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