Sequel to the Wattpad novel The Age of Aquarius
E.J. Thompson, a reclusive author and former journalist, recalls the tales of four teenage criminals as Brooke King, Caleb Wolfe, and Nessa and Johnny Phoenix had exposed a corrupt billionaire for ille...
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Sweet cherry blossoms and spicy peppermint welcomed the children as they stepped inside the tattoo parlor.
Men and women stormed across the spacious room sporting dark clothes, silver piercings, and intricate tattoos.
Sneakers rub against light cherry wood floors; beautiful paintings of dragons, a Phoenix, and supernatural demons swept across the light orange walls.
But what was strange about this particular tattoo parlor is that the artists had icy pale skin, heightened senses, and razor-sharp teeth-strong enough to sever a person's arm.
Though the fluorescent light didn't bother them, these unusual characters kept their distance; that is until the children came into the parlor.
Waddling behind Nessa, a scared Apollo felt uncomfortable by the vampires' sultry gaze.
He was not convinced if these "skilled" artists are their friends or enemies. Brooke, Caleb, Johnny, and Nessa on the other hand were mysteriously calm.
They treated the clients and employees as if these enigmatic creatures were human beings.
Caleb pounds his fist at a platinum blonde woman who has dark red smudges all over her lips. Meanwhile, Brooke talks to the older boys about their favorite horror movies.
At first, Apollo thought it was weird seeing the children talking to actual vampires. But once he bumped into a disheveled man, Apollo knew his life was going to change.
"Goddamn it, man!" the tattoo artist grunted.
He pushed Apollo out of the way and smooth his messy clothes. "Watch the Suede shoes, asshole! They are fucking vintage!"
Eyes trembled like leaves; Apollo tries to make an apology when Adam shifts towards him. He stood 5'8-a bit taller than Johnny.
Ink black lock of hair dangled over his broad forehead, depicting him as a rebel in the 50s.
A leather black jacket cloaked his marble white arms, exposing his light gray T-shirt in the process.
A deep blue pair of jeans grasps his legs, and thanks to Apollo's awkwardness, the boy accidentally smudged the man's dark gray Suede shoes with dirt.
Not a great idea if you ask me.
Inspecting the smudge of dirt on his shoes, Adam's piercing eyes glare at Apollo.
"What the hell was that for, son?" the young man roared in a Southern accent. Apollo's cheeks burned brighter than the sun.
The boy's stuttering apology tumbled out of his lips, but with a swift motion of Johnny's left hand, the timid fire mutant kept his mouth shut.
"He didn't mean any harm, Adam," insisted Johnny.
The eighteen-year-old man looks down at the shy Apollo once more, then slowly scratches his head.
