Eighteen troubled teenagers wake up one morning to an even more troubling discovery. They are all vampires...
Given the chance to correct their Scrooge like behaviors, they must accept the guidance of a keeper. Assigned to each of the eighteen, Dek...
Gathered around an artfully crafted fire built by Quinn himself, I watch the reflections in our bug like eyes. As the shifting in light flickers against our faces, my grip on the hideous velvet jacket tightens.
We've come to a consensus, well, a few actually. Finally all in the same place at the same time, we figured it'd be best that if finish Flynn off while we had the chance. The first time was a cautious emotion conscious ordeal. I can't help but think about the possible ways that Dekka will react when she finds wakes up.
Willow, having agreed to all the terms, tends to her duties as the houses official medic. Mainly intended for Dekka, even though it should never have come to that. The role pleases her, giving her useful tasks for her steady hands to perform.
Forgetting that we are in a tiny corner of the world and that the rest of the world isn't a tiny corner surrounding us, our parent have been reached out to some of us. Most of us had been living with relatives and hired staff until we become legal adults.
Adults. I should be worried about what future profession I'm going to choose, but yet here I am on the sloping green lawn of Willows sprawling estate. Burning a body.
Oh it gets better, doesn't it?
I just so happen to be burning the twin brother of the girl I like. I can't believe that it took becoming a vampire to be fazed be gruesome happenings.
There, I admit it. I can't watch her die again without admitting it to both myself and her. She may be immortal, but we shouldn't take advantage of death, because surely it'll fight back and take advantage over us.
The heat of the fire sends a warm tingle across my skin in waves. Huh, is this what it was like to be warm?
Immortatily must have an effect on the decomposition of the body. The most intelligent thought I've ever had, I know.
Instead of filling our clothes with the putrid smell of the dead, his body dissapates, quickly leaving as if it was never there. The only remnants of the moment other than the memory is the hazy smell of fire on our clothes.
"We should be heading back in." Alma speaks between breaks in the breeze.
"I don't like leaving her alone in there. Who knows who else could be after her." Jett adds.
"Ever the worry wart." Says Odin.
The rest chime in save for Harper and myself.
As my senses tune out their banter, I pick up on the shift of movement around the property.
The rustling of leaves.
The snapping of twigs beneath sneakers.
Shoot. Somebody's out there.
"Does anyone hear that?" My voice startles them.
Quinn tips his head in my direction, his sea green hair illuminated in the fire light.
"Excessive rustling." I nod back at him. Something isn't right.
Suprising us all, Harper for once speaks before she acts.
"It's been rough enough as it is. This all started Firday and to think it's only Saturday night. A lot has happened. So can we please put out this fire, go inside that ridiculous house and pretend to be friends enjoying a weekend?"
This is certainly the most I've ever heard her speak and the most reasonable request at that.
Willow and Odin playfully splash water in each others faces as they attempt to put out the fire.
Craving my headphones, we all file into the house one by one, leaving the rustling in the woods to be dealt with tomorrow.
Alma
Alone in my room, my fingers graze the hem of my red velvet dress. Not the red of dainty flowers, or spilled blood, but the color of wine. Equally rich and deep.
"It's nice."
I jolt, almost as terrified as when Dekka first appeared to me.
Harper steps out of the shadows of my door way. Moving to stand before me, I take her in. She's a sorry sight as usual. We aren't exactly all buddies, but it can be agreed that almost nobody likes her. Well, with the exception of Quinn.
One of her braids remains in tact while the other is shorn slightly above her shoulders. Gliding down to her face, her horn rimmed glasses are smudged with grime, yet the most startling part is her eyes. While everyone else's have gone back to their normal sized black saucers, hers have remained as they were in the kitchen. The e entirety of her eyes are replaced with a pitch black void.
I can't bring myself to look at the rest.
"Thank you."
Still looking me in the eye, I take this as my opportunity to speak up.
"Can I help you?"
"Um, I n-n-need some help with my hair." What does she have to be nervous about?
"You can be one of us, Harper. You just have to let it happen. We've all done horrible things, that's why were here. If you continue on your path of self destruction, you will die this way."
"I've got nothing to loose." If it weren't for my vampire hearing, there is no way I could have heard her.
"Wrong, you have everything to loose."
Non verbally I motion to the vanity in the corner. She follows up my gesture with a nod. The Walshes clearly know how to decorate guest rooms.
Pulling out the stool to take a seat, I catch a glimpse of her hands. Unlike the rest of us, her hands are still the same hazy blotch of white that we woke up with. Most of our bodies are a shiny porcline white, a token of our progress. Yet, she remains well behind us in terms of progress.
"Let this be your fresh start." I speak up just as I've leveld my scissors to the remaining braid.
"My name isn't Harper, it's Hadly." She says quietly just as her cleanly cut braid falls to the floor...
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