"What kind of teenager stays at home on Friday night?"
"The kind of teenager who can't stand crowds and dead people."
"Dead people don't exist."
"How many times do I have to tell you this, you're dead Tony, stop bothering me."
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A st...
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CHAPTER ONE | 01. THE GHOST OF TONY STARK
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MORANA slammed the front door shut, shuddering as the warmth hit her face as her senses were being attacked by the sweet and heavy smell of incense. The teen scrunched up her nose in distaste, taking off her worn-out boots, trying to be as quiet as possible as she heard quiet muttering coming from the house.
There were hardly any lights turned on as she carefully crept towards the source of the noise.
It was freezing, the closer she tiptoed to the living room, the colder it got. It was almost suffocating and she pulled her grey, old jacket closer to her thin body, refusing to take it off until their new guest had decided to leave.
The young necromancer nearly fell over the red, upturned carpet as their grey and white cat, Hedwig, dashed out of the living room, hissing angrily as she ran upstairs, flicking her puffy tail in annoyance before disappearing into the girl's room.
"Aha! Take that you nasty furball."
She became to a stop, ignoring the hovering ghost in their dimly lit, plant-filled living room as her dark green eyes landed on the hunched figure in the kitchen. Her long, grey hair had been pulled back with a black scarf that was tied around her head, bringing attention to the red ruby earrings that caught the little candle lights and mirrored them against the small kitchen walls. Her long, red robes hid most of her hunched figure as she swung her hips to the sound of Ray Charles coming from the old CD player as it carried the rhythmic tunes through the empty house.
Grandma Mea was churning some herbs, a bunch of honey candles lighting up her workspace.
"Hey Gran."
The girl greeted her, clutching the straps of her school bag as she passed the hovering spirit who was curiously eyeing her. She didn't even glance at him, pretending as though he wasn't even there.
"Ah, Sweet Pea! Didn't hear you come in. I think you have a guests dear." She said merrily, grinning at her grandchild before going back to mixing her herbs. The whole house smelled of chamomile and lavender. Definitely not Morana's favourite array of smells. The girl hopped on the barstool, red leather nearly ripped from the antique kitchen interior. It had seen better days.
Like the ghost creepily eavesdropping near the door.
"Don't think so, I tend to ignore the problem until it eventually goes away."
She grabbed one of the caramel apples, biting into the sweet dessert with hunger, moaning as she closed her eyes in bliss.
"Now that's not what I've taught you is it? These things must be handled delicately Sweet Pea. Eternal sleep is the key, we all want that don't we? And young lady, did you wash those hands before eating?
