The Gateway

Chapter 1

Any tattoo you receive...speaks across dimensions into the realm where demons, spirits and other ungodly beings dwell.
~Mack Major

Chapter one

1589 Italy

Red the color of the brightest rubies covered the village. It seemed only moments ago their mother had been cooking them a dinner. Now the screams of their neighbors could be heard and panic flowed through Mariabella's veins. Her brother and her had lived in fear of this day. Always thinking their mother was crazy. Now they knew they should have listened better.

"Hide. Take your brother and run as far as you can." The scent of sulfur and death filled the air as Majella gathered her inks and handed them to her eldest daughter, who would now be forced into becoming a woman. "Tell none of your name until you get where I told you to go." The little girl cried in fear. "Hush, hush. You'll be fine." Of that Majella couldn't be sure, but she knew anything was better than her children's chances if they stayed. Majella knew the signs, she could feel it in her bones. Death was coming for her and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Mariabella took her younger brother in her arms and ushered him out the back entrance so they could get away. Mariabella didn't dare look back, but she wasn't able to get far carrying her brother. Slowing down, the sounds that were once deafening were now barely audible giving Mariabella time to think. Mariabella knelt down putting her brother's feet on the grassy ground and caressed his innocent cheeks with her tattooed hand. The hand that would save her and her brother. "We'll be fine. I just need you to stay close. Can you do that?" At her brothers nod she felt a burst of adrenaline she needed to save them and with Lucius' hand in hers they took off.

Present day Las Vegas

The sun was blaring through the stained glass window of Michael's childhood room. Not much had changed over the years. Even when he was young his parents never allowed him to have some cartoon all over his room or sheets. Red drapes and even redder sheets. His mother had a fetish of all things red. His room was decorated at her hands as was the rest of the Adelson manor. Groaning, his 6'5" frame wrestled with the sheets on his bed attempting to cover his face. It felt like he had just laid down; probably because it was only a few hours ago when he had made it in from Drai's an after hours club at the Cromwell hotel. Shitty hotel, but one of the few clubs that lasted in Vegas. Just when Michael thought he could block out the sun, the sounds of voices raising in the hallway made their way through Michael's cracked door. His father was right he was such an idiot. Michael should have shut his damn door when he came in, but now there was no chance of sleep.

Michael was going to be early to his appointment, but the sun was against him in allowing any more sleep to happen. He already knew what he wanted. All tattoos had to be in a place he could easily cover, but he was slowly running out of skin to mark. The only mark on his body that showed was on his hand, his mother had told him he had been born with it. Michael had always wanted to make that symbol bigger and put it somewhere else and that was why the mark still hadn't been removed. It would be truly his last one. For now though what little skin was left was going to connect with what he felt deep inside. Death.

From the outside looking in Michael had it all. Money, beautiful life and anything he wanted at his fingertips. But, if you looked closer you could see the small fracture in his family's facade. The crack was slowly becoming noticeable and not just to Michael, he had been well aware of the fights his mother and father had on an hourly basis. It was becoming all too noticeable to anyone truly paying attention. Michael learned his lesson long ago not to get involved in his parent's disagreements. He had been on the receiving end of his father's fists more times than he'd like to count. Death seemed an easier way out. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. So hoping one drunken night he would start a fight with the wrong person or something would make it an easy out for him, but that had yet to come to pass. Michael wasn't small so most people would ignore him when he attempted to start a fight with them.

Sure a skull with crossbones in the devil's hands wasn't a difficult job for his tattoo artist, but every single marking had a meaning. And it wouldn't be long until he'd have to find a new way to rid of his demons. Pulling the cuffs of his shirt just past the sleeves of his suit jacket showing off his flashy new cuff links; he had an image to uphold, drunk still or not. Grabbing his wallet off the dresser top he heard his mother and father still fighting. She was drunk again, or like him still, and Michael's sperm donor was probably still fucking his secretary. Perfect life, Michael's ass. What others saw was only what his parents allowed, but lately they were getting careless and fighting in front of any company. Just what his parents didn't want people to see, but nothing can truly stay behind closed doors forever. Especially since they were a family divided.

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First time I've ever written an original story (usually dive into fanfiction/worlds already created). I know how I want my world to go, just may be slow getting it posted. I am having a beta read it, but am also open to feedback and comments. Please let me know what you like/dislike! Thanks for reading.