There were somanyof them.
“What about that one?” Greg asked, pointing at a set of intersecting triangles.
Dustin glanced down at his forearm. “I got this in Peru. There's this shaman outside Cusco whodoes traditional geometric patterns. Each shape represents a different element of the soul's journey. The upward triangles are aspiration, the downward ones are grounding, and where they intersect...” He looked up at Greg. “That's where transformation happens.”
Greg blinked. “That's... wow. That seems deep.”
“It's complete bullshit.” Dustin grinned. “I got it at a flash sale in Denver because I had a two-hour wait for my car to get inspected and the shop was next door.”
“Oh.” Greg's brows furrowed. “Why did you lie about it?”
Dustin shrugged. “Last week I told someone it was a map to my ex's grave. One time I convinced a guy it was a gang tattoo and watched him get very nervous very fast.”
“But why?”
“Because it's funny.”
Greg shook his head. “You like to distract people.”
Dustin's expression flickered. “Yeah, maybe,” he admitted after a beat. “Probably.” He grabbed his shirt from the bed but didn't put it back on, just held it loosely in one hand. “Anything else you need to examine?”
“You can put your shirt back on.”
“You sure? I've got more tattoos. Some of them are in more interesting places.”
“You're trying to distract me again.”
“And you don't want to be distracted?”
“I want to do my job,” Greg made himself say. Because Dustin was already dead. A pending file. An attachment that shouldn't be formed.
Because Dustin was smiling and Greg wanted to take a picture and freeze the moment in time, and that was not how a reaper should behave.
“Have it your way.” Dustin pulled his shirt back on.Something in Greg's chest loosened and tightened at the same time.
Then Dustin's phone buzzed.
He grabbed for it, still smiling, and his eyebrows rose as he read the screen.
“Huh,” he said.
“What?”
“Email from Apex Energy.” Dustin was scrolling, a strange satisfaction spreading across his face. “They accepted. I didn't think they would, the little cowards.”
“Accepted what?”
“I told them I'd do Devil's Needle if they let me out of the duck merchandise clause.” He looked up, his grin sharp and reckless and alive. “They said yes.”
Greg frowned. “What is Devil's Needle?”
“It's a wing-suit flight through a canyon formation in Utah. It's a pretty tight maneuver.” Dustin's eyes were bright. “It's only been completed successfully twice.”
Greg's stomach dropped. “And unsuccessfully?”
“Just as many times.” Dustin shrugged. “Both guys clipped the wall.”
“They died?”
