Chapter 1:
“I have to go back for them!”
“You’re parents are dead Blaire. Let them go.” The tall man in a police uniform shook me violently, trying to get me to snap out of it.
Hot tears ran down my face as I shook my head. They couldn’t be dead. I had just seen them. Their smiling faces flashed through my mind for about the thousandth time. It couldn’t be real.
I looked back at the car wreck behind the tall man’s frame. Seeing the gore scene made me thrash around, squirming out of the tall man’s grip. I managed to take three steps away from him before he turned around lighting fast and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me back into his embrace in another second. This time making it impossible for me to escape. I finally gave up after a minute of trying to break loose again.
He leaned down next to my ear and whispered, “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do. You’ll have to move on.”
That had been two years ago, when my life had changed drastically. I had moved away from New York, to the quiet state of Washington. Far away from that horrid memory. But even distance couldn’t prevent the nightmares that happened every night. They all were the same, blood, metal, and the fierceness of that man’s grip trying to stop me from seeing my dead parents.
I grimaced from the memory as I sat in the back of a huge black van. Last week I had gotten a letter in the mail saying that the Shadow School wanted me. All I knew about the school was it was like a college. With only teenagers and teachers. As well as dorms and high quantity restaurants. It would sound awesome if I didn’t hate people.
Well more like distrust them. Ever since my parents had died I shut out everyone who talked to me, or tried to make conversation. My parent’s murderer was still out there. And until he was proven dead I refuse to speak to anyone. My silence had made me the way I am now. I used to have it all. Popular friends, an amazing boyfriend, and all the money a girl could ever want. But since the accident all that was gone.
I became an outcast and outsider. I grew out my long red hair and dyed it black. I also added gothic makeup to my facial attire. Something my parents would highly disprove of. The only way I could hide from the lingering stares I seemed to create was to have a mask and long hair to hide behind. The gothic clothing also helped me hide in its own way. It expressed my true feelings and it seemed to ward people off. Which was exactly what I wanted, I wanted people to leave me alone, to stay away from me. My parent’s death wasn’t something I could just get over.
I had lived with my aunt before leaving to go to this lame school. It wasn’t my choice either; I liked my old school even though I had no friends. I was treated like a ghost there. I didn’t mind it I liked being alone. It gave me more time to think and I have been doing that a lot lately. But it was my aunt who forced me to go. She said only a select few in the US qualified to get in the school. Lucky me.
I sighed as I pressed my head against the cold glass. It was raining hard and freezing cold. Welcome to Washington. We drove deeper into the forest. It took forever, so long that I started to wonder if we were lost. But that wonder was cut short when a tall gate approached the car.
It creaked as it opened; the guard let us through without checking in. The van was also the schools. I wasn’t looking forward to my new school at all. Teachers had complained about my behavior so much that I was forced into another school about every half year. This was my fifth school within two years. It should be a new world record.
As we drove up to the school I couldn’t help but stare. The school was European looking. Not to mention how fancy it was. I was afraid to even walk through the halls. Afraid I’d break some sacred statue or something. But what had my attention wasn’t the school’s buildings or breaking statues. It was the students. They were roaming around talking and laughing as we drove past them. What caught my eye was how fit they all looked. Not a fat kid in sight. Which was rare, considering us Americans. As I got a closer look they all had muscles. Even the girls.
I shook my head in disgust. That was just gross. Even if they were soft muscles. No way in hell was I going to look like that. Not a chance. I had my own trend and was planning to stick to it.
I stared out my window until the van stopped. I knew there was astonishment all over my face by the way the adults-that had been riding in the car-looked at me. I glanced around once I stepped out of the van. It had stopped raining, that was something. But the ice cold air still hung around. Causing my breath to turn white and misty in front of me before disappearing in thin air. I shivered as the icy cold wind seeped through my black and purple shirt.
Most of the adults dispersed except for two. The one who had been driving and the only girl that was in the van; she made a gesture with her hands that indicated that she wanted me to follow her. I stayed silent as they lead me towards a short and small building. Walking behind them I wasn’t so surprised to see them as fit as the students walking around the school. The woman was a little bit more buff than the other girls I had seen walking around the school’s grounds. She looked tuff too. Not the kind that were punks. But the kind that would intimidate a person, and would make you think twice about picking a fight with them. She belonged more in the marines then a school. She also created an air that made her seem like the most badass person in the school. I didn’t doubt that she was.
The building inside was just as amazing as the outside. Everything looked delicate. And I found myself not wanting to touch a thing it was so nice. The tall man turned around to look at me and I finally got a good look at his face.
I gasped as I took in scars that went halfway across his angelic face. He had blonde hair and big blue eyes. He was young too. Probably around twenty to twenty five. He smiled at me with full white teeth. He looked like a movie star.
“I’m Zane Rainier. Classes had just started, so why don’t you take a seat in this room.” He opened the door he had been standing in front of. The room was huge, like five master bedrooms put together huge. He stepped through the doorway. That’s when I took in his height. He was tall; his hair brushed the top of the doorway as he walked under it. I thought five eight was tall.
He sat down in one of the chairs next to a fireplace. Again I was shocked at how rich this school was. They probably owned a money making industry, and it most likely was stored underground. That or they invented a way to make money grow on trees. He stared at me and pointed to a chair across the room.
I walked across the large room, taking in the feeling of the soft red carpet. It seemed to sink down as I walked, making me bounce as I approached my chair. The chair was just as squishy and bouncy.
Looking at Zane I grew comfortable around him. Something I haven’t done in a long time. I never trusted anyone, even someone with a friendly face like Zane’s. I was like a driver on a highway during Christmas. I only watched out for myself, and I didn’t trust anyone, no mater how safe they seemed.
Zane seemed immune to my silence as he leaned back and stretched out those long legs of his. Making him seem that much more taller, even while sitting in a chair. He folded his arms across his broad chest; continuing to stare at me.
I looked down at the ground; no one has given me this much attention before. I let my long dark hair fall in front of my face, wanting to hide even more. But it didn’t help; I could still feel him watching me. Studying me even.
He cleared his throat. “What classes have you taken before coming here?” His eyes seemed to bore holes in my face.
I shifted uncomfortably as I mumbled, “the normal junior classes.”
Silence was heavy in the room. It only made me more uncomfortable. “No advance classes?”
I could hear him scribbling something on a piece of paper. I felt like a lab rat, I was being interviewed. I haven’t had this in two years. It only made me uneasier; someone like him shouldn’t give me the attention he was.
I nodded still not looking him in the eyes; instead I glanced around the room taking in all his furniture. Everything seemed to match with the floor and the chair I was sitting on. Dark wood that looked almost black, and red plush everywhere. It was sort of gothic really. And I found that interesting, he didn’t look like the gothic type.
Zane saw my interest in his room; he chuckled. “I’m into the European stuff. Everyone at this school seems to be. It fascinates me.”
For the first time since I came into this room I looked him right in the eyes. “I am too. And gothic things.” I looked down at my outfit. Which consisted of a black shirt with a purple skull and purple skinny jeans. To complete the gothic attire I had black combat boots. Something I couldn’t live without even if my life depended on it. I glanced back up at him. “Obviously.”
He smiled and nodded as he looked back down at a sheet of paper that looked like it had my information on it. A frown replaced that wonderful smile of his as he looked over the white sheet.
“It says here that you moved from New York after your parents death.” I knew he was being lenient, afraid he’d trigger some emotion in me. I had two years of practice; I had no real emotion when it came to talking about my parent’s incident.
“They were murdered. Some guy purposely ran a red light and hit their car straight on. Only problem is the murderer got away. Without a scratch.” I could feel my face harden. I never hated anyone. But my parent’s murderer? Yeah I hated him; he took my life away from me. My family as well; and to make things worse, I was their only child.
He seemed taken back by my coolness about talking about my parent’s death. It was nothing new to me. I had been placed in therapy for the first year, in hopes that I could deal with the pain. It only helped a little. I could tell he wanted to change the subject. I’ve seen that look on someone’s face a thousand times.
While he groped with another question I sat there taking in his features. He was pale, almost as pale as me, which wasn’t normal. Red head’s were naturally pale. But me? I had two red haired parents, which meant my skin was albino white. He had a broad chin, it was smooth but I knew-from my last boyfriend-that there was some type of stipple there resting on it. Someone like him has never shown me kindness before. It was like he knew me, and I was a little surprised to see that he hadn’t said anything about my appearance. It was rare for someone to go fully goth around here. In New York there were so many freaks there that a goth could fit right in. But here? It was like I was some sort of circus freak.
He looked back up at me with sorrow in his eyes. “What is your name?”
“Don’t you have my name on that paper?” I found it oddly weird that he wouldn’t have my name scribbled somewhere on that paper. I found it even more odd when he shook his head.
“Uhm, Blaire. Blaire Baxley.” I had always hated my last name; no particular reason, it just didn’t go right with my first name.
He stood up, God he was tall. He offered a hand to help me up; I took it. He walked me over to the door before stopping to say, “I’ll be your mentor, welcome to the Shadow School Blaire.”
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