Ok, so quick notices.
Darren Shan owns all but Maria and Trisha. They belong to me. This will be the only time I say this!
Takes place years before Darren. He will be found in book 2.
Arra is dead. Glalda killed her. Larten is out for revenge. I won't say any more about it.
If you see a typo or problem with plot, let me know. But keep in mind; it may not follow exactly along the lines, as I had hoped.
If you have questions, feel free to ask, and please enjoy! R&R!
Chapter 1
"Maria!" My mother called. "You'll be late!"
"I know!" I yelled back as I slipped into my slinky black dress. I put on my makeup really quickly and ran downstairs. I grabbed my keys from the counter and started the car. I drove my way to a nearby gentleman's club in downtown New York.
Luckily, I'm not a strip dancer. I'm a cocktail waitress. Pretty much, my job is to look pretty, flirt a little, serve food and drinks, get tips, and go home. I truly loath my job. But my family needs the money. This job pays well, so it's the best option I have.
I pulled up into the parking lot and entered the building. It was a Friday night, but strangely enough, it wasn't as packed as it usually is. As I walked in, I spotted Trisha, a friend of mine who also worked here. Trisha had dark skin and black hair, while I had pale skin and brown hair. We were a lot alike and different at the same time. Trisha was a girly girl, who was always thinking logic. I, on the other hand, was creative, imaginative, and I didn't mind getting my hands dirty. Neither of us liked our jobs, though. But both of us needed them, no matter what.
"Hi Trish." I sighed. I wasn't in the mood for work tonight.
"Hey Maria." She gave a forced smile.
"Why do you think it's so…empty…tonight?" I asked her.
"Dunno. It was like this when I got here."
I shrugged. Jason, our manager, came up to us. He looked like he was in a hurry.
"Girls, get your outfits on!" He called at the dancers. "Trisha, could you do the open bar, dear? Maria, glad you're here. Listen, we have an overload of waitresses, so you'll be assigned to table five, and when you finish there, you can go home. Ok?"
"Yes, sir." I glanced at table five. It was occupied by three men, maybe in their thirties. I made my way to them, regretful that I ever took this job.
The men were strange. Table five was a semi-circle booth. On the left was a brown haired man with tons of scars and heavy breathing. In the center was a green haired man wearing purple animal furs and smelled like a sewer. And on the right was an orange haired man with a long scar and a red cape. I made a forced smile and approached.
"Evening, boys! What can I do for you?"
"Well…" The green haired man purred, but from the glare from the orange haired, and the pain he wore on his face, I could tell he was forcefully silenced. I think the man kicked him underneath. "…Um, I'll have ale."
"Make it two." Replied the brown haired man. He looked at the orange haired man. The orange haired man looked up at me. Our eyes met, and I swear, my breath caught in my throat. His eyes were emerald, holding secrets of their own, with great pain and age, and yet such a young man. It was a mystery unlike any other. My forced smile disappeared, replaced by a genuine smile towards him. He seemed curious, too. He looked like he was going to say something, but he just shut his mouth and looked at the table.
"Just a water, please." He murmured. His voice was deep and smooth.
"Alright." I said. I walked over to the open bar. Trish smiled at me.
"I need two ales and a water." I said to her.
"Ok, hold on." She said, and pulled out the bottles in the refrigerator. Then she took out an empty glass and filled it in the sink. She put all three items on a carrying tray, and handed them to me, whispering, "Are they treating you well?"
I laughed. "Don't worry 'bout me, worry about yourself." She smiled again as I left to hand over the drinks. I couldn't help but to overhear their conversation when I had almost arrived.
"That waitress was hot!" It was the man with green hair. I'm pretty good at matching faces with voices.
"Oh no you don't, Vancha. You've flirted with enough women tonight." It was the brown haired one.
"You're right. I actually like her friend, the one at the open bar. She's real pretty."
"That is enough!" Said the orange haired man. "Why have you even dragged me here in the first place?"
"C'mon Larten, have a little fun." Whined the green haired one.
"You know," teased the brown haired one, "I think she was checking you out. She might like you."
"I would doubt that. She looks like someone who is already seeing someone. Besides, I am not sure I can look at another woman without thinking about Arra." Said the orange haired man wistfully. I wonder who Arra was.
"What happened to Arra wasn't your fault. Glalda went mad. Things like this happen, but you can't blame yourself. You're alive, and we're all here. Try to enjoy the life you have now. Ask the girl out, for the Gods' sakes." The brown haired man encouraged.
The orange haired man gave a nervous moan. "I do not think I can. She is just, well, she is…um…I cannot explain it, but…"
The green haired man started laughing. "Ha! The waitress likes Larten…and he likes her back!"
"Shut up!" The orange haired man snapped harshly. I reached the table by that time.
"Here you boys are. Can I get you anything else?"
"Your phone number!" Said the green haired man. Another kick under the table. Another yelp. I giggled.
"We'll be fine for a while." Said the brown haired man.
A while passed, and after they drank their drinks they asked for the check and left. They left a really good tip, which made me happy. I cleaned up the table and said goodnight to Trisha. My shift officially ended.
But the night wasn't all fun and games. When I went to start up my car, a large purplish hand clamped down over my mouth, keeping me from screaming.
"You scream, you die." The stranger growled.