With Love, Your Reaper

Chapter One

Ioana spun across the training room, athame lowered for a parry, just in time to stop her friend's advances with a matching blade. The blades twanged and grated together with an exceptional force, Ioana leaning back to absorb the pressure on her heels.

"Getting better," came the accented grunt, "Impressive. Last time you almost got staked. Gotta watch these suckers, and their minions."

Corsy Jean Gunhold grinned down at Ioana, flashing straight teeth and a pierced lower lip. Ioana grunted, trembling under the pressure now. Finally she gave, but didn't back off. Instead, she crouched and spun, flinging out a leg and sweeping his legs out from under him in a flash. He hit the ground, but only for a second. He caught himself on one leg, flattening his torso to absorb the gravitational effects, then flipping himself up. He chuckled, rubbing at his shin where her steel toed boot had struck it.

"Bloody hell, love. Getting aggressive," he shot her a wink and pointed the blade at her chest, "Cheeky even, I like it. Still not as good as me, though."

Ioana snorted and crooked a finger, daring him to get closer.

"Come on, big boy. You're sure pretty confident."

The elder slayer shrugged and lunged at her, athame underhand, and plunged it towards her heart. She whirled with one foot gliding over the other and pulled in a half circle around him, neatly dodging the blade. He whirled to face her just as quickly, swinging his athame at her face with such a ferocity that she almost backed off. Instead she dropped low, balancing her weight on one palm, and flung the flat of her blade up to meet his. He backed off when the attack went empty, spinning on one heel and kicking out at her. She had little time to retreat and his boot landed firmly in her chest, knocking her over square. She rolled backward, landing in a slightly unbalanced crouch. It was so much harder to fight in a dress, but she knew it was better off. Skipping every school event since Grim had left had looked suspicious enough. She would've been better off fleeing the scene like an normal teenaged girl if some horrible monster had come prancing in for all the grace she had in a dress. Heels, she could do. She'd fought in six inch boots before, as graceful as chiffon curtains on an open breeze. But dresses were restricting and foreign.

She was in her homecoming dress; a plain form fitting black dress that came an inch or so above the knees. It was strapless, a leather jacket tossed over it to cover her shoulders. Her normal, favored six inch black stiletto boots worked just fine, she hadn't bothered buying a new pair just for a one night use. She'd refused to let her mother pin her hair up in elegant curls. Instead, she'd straightened out the kinks and wrapped it in a slightly messy yet elegant bun secured with several bobby pins and an athletic grade hair tie. She had extra in her bag if it fell out. Fighting and dancing with loose hair never mixed. She'd lined her eyes in red and painted her lips the same color, brushed on some powdered foundation, and curled her eyelashes. As far as fancy went, she considered herself acceptable. She'd come far from working a sweat and was thankful, she didn't have the extra thirty minutes to redo her makeup.

"I think you'll be just fine," Corsy finally insisted.

He was dressed in a navy blue button down that hugged his shoulders and the muscles of his torso pleasantly. A pair of flexible black slacks and a pair of highly polished boots topped off his outfit. His tie was the same color of his eyes, a bright green like the depths of a far off jungle. He'd done nearly nothing with his shaggy blonde hair, which brushed just past his chin and fell in his eyes. He was good looking, and even though he knew it he presented himself as if he denied it.

"We should get ready to go," he insisted. \

He slid his hunting athame in his boot and strode to the weapons shelves in the back of the training room, taking up several throwing knives and a set of small chahkrim he could hide under his belt. Ioana admired him for a moment before slipping her athame under her dress at her thing. It'd be dark enough in the school gymnasium that the two administrators taking tickets wouldn't notice the faint outline of the sheath under her dress. They never looked too closely and she was fairly counting on that. She met him at the door, tugging down on his tie to give his cheek a kiss. He flushed a variation of reds before nudging past her into the hallway.

Getting in had been so much easier than Ioana had thought. After she'd cleared with the door holders, she pulled her mask out of her purse and strapped it under her bun. It was a black jeweled thing made of tin, decorated with sequins and and outlining of glitter. It was simple but served the purpose of the dance's masquerade theme more than well enough. Corsy had refused to wear a mask, calling it ludicrous and stupid to play dress up at a formal event. She'd dismissed it and let him come without one. The gymnasium was already filled with people. Flirting couples took the dancer floor while the solo fliers took to the sides and back of the gym. Groups of united wall flowers claimed the sidelines, talking and sipping punch out of glittery plastic cups. Everything was dark and sparkling thanks to sets of industrial black lights temporarily mounted on the walls. The floor and walls had been plastered with black sparkling paper. Sequins and glitter littered the floor. Masks and painted faces whirled by the two of them as they searched for a familiar group of people. Ioana found no one and opted to blend with a group of black clad wall flowers milling about the punch table, handing out glittering purple punch from a bowl made of opaque white crystal. Mackenzie Adkins, a girl in Ioana's Sociology class, was among them. She greeted them happily and waved them over, offering Corsy one of the glittering cups. Not before she'd pressed a hand to his chest and ran it down to the waistband of his slacks like some exotic dancer teasing her audience. Ioana, suddenly feeling possessive, took the cup from Mackenzie and tugged Corsy away.

"That was harmless! What're you playing at?"

"That girl messes with witchcraft. I bet you anything she put a love spell or some foolishness on it," Ioana shot back, tossing the punch in a trash can set along the wall.

Corsy protested, but it was drowned out by a shriek and a startling crash that sent them both whirling to face the dance floor. There, in the middle, a girl laid sprawled and still, like a doll tossed aside. Ioana moved first, bolting for the circle of students surrounding the fallen girl and pushing her way through. In the middle of the circle laid Mackenzie Adkins, who'd been very much alive seconds before, but now laid as still and pale as a corpse.