Façade [Book 2] (Glamour Series)

9 | Controling Fate

As I opened the door to the right of the left door, which was locked in place, I entered the building. The inside of the little place was much larger in comparison. Rows and rows and rows of pews were lined in front of a stage. A red marble podium stands below the stage, facing out into the empty long church benches.

Walking down the isle, between the pews, I almost feel better immediately. A large colored glass window overlooks the chapel with a cross. The colors spread down onto the stage which harbors a piano and a couple happy white flowers. I continue until I can sit in the front row, to the right, and listen to the silence around me. The air was clean and the floors were glimmering with different colors the sun brought through the other windows around the little church.

I sat in silence, my hands in my lap, and waited for my mind to put itself to ease.

"How long have you been here?"

I opened my eyes to find nothing. "I'm hearings things again." My voice was dry, withered, and scraped desperately along my throat.

"You are?"

This time, I realized, the voice was real. "Hello?" I call out, clearing my throat.

A tap on my shoulder brings me back to Earth, swiveling my body around. A young woman stands before me, short layered blonde hair and brown eyes. Her cheeks had light brown freckles on them and her mouth was a light pink color. She smiles at me, almost breaking to laugh, and holds out a hand to me. I take her hand in mine and we shake hands over the church benches. What an awkward meeting.

"Oh. Uh. I didn't hear you come in."

"I could say the same thing about you, what's your name?" She seemed almost too happy, like one of those girls who are completely fake with joy. Although, I couldn't tell if this was the case with her. The benefit of the doubt crossed my mind and I gave it to her out of the kindness that was left in my heart.

"Eris Meyer. You?" When our hands are released she smiled even further, showing her teeth; they didn't look too white for a normal person, nor were they yellow contaminated with black stains.

"Maggie Greene. It's a fancy meeting you here Eris. Aren't you the daughter of Jackson Meyer? The last necromancer?" She seems to obtain a blush to her cheeks, as if being the daughter of such a man was an amazing gift.

"Uh." I shrug and glance to my feet: "Yea, that would be me. I don't really like talking about my dad."

As soon as I had let her know what I was so timid on the subject she dropped it: changing it with an ease that a master in English Communications would have. "What brings you to my church this evening?"

"I...no reason."

"No reason? Aw, you can tell me! I promise I'm good at keeping secrets! Just not my own secrets! Let me tell you! I once had this dog named Stacy and she always had to sit next to me when she farted and-" She was laughing to herself at this point, pausing to catch her breath, which earned her a smile from me. There was something about this church girl that I found so fascinating and so familiar.

"Maggie?" Another voice joins the scene, and I look up to see that Oliver is standing in the Chapel doorway. "Eris?"

Maggie looks behind her to catch the eye of Oliver, she doesn't look shamed or afraid of the Dead King- but rather, she's excited and overly friendly with him. "Oli!" She squeals and waves at him, "I met a friend of yours."

Oliver had made quick work of a stride, joining us at the front of the chapel: eyeing me suspiciously the entire way. "What are you doing here?" He scorned me.

"Work." Maggie replied nonchalant.

"Not you." Oliver snapped at her.

Maggie shrugged, pulling her jean jacket further over her shoulders: covering her breasts, which were ready to spill out from her white tank-top. "Sorry you weren't clear on whom you were speaking to." She playfully sticks her tongue out at Oliver, brushing passed him and across the stage to a side room.

Oliver looks sheepish, even a little embarrassed. "Sorry about her. Even still. Why are you here?"

I shrug, using the tone Maggie had used. "After-work relaxing."

Oliver snorts once, not believing me, but I don't care what he thinks about me because I, too, brush passed him. Once outside I pick the midnight flower I had been ogling and return to my bedroom. For once, I was satisfied with myself.