Beep….beep…Beep Beep Beep BEEP BEEP! BEEP! BE--
Slender fingers gently pressed the 'snooze' button, receding back into the warm sanctuary that had been created under the comforter. A soft moan broke the warm silence, oddly shaped lump under heavy blankets wriggling around for a moment before pushing away the covers to reveal a young teenage girl, blinking sleepily.
Her skin was a little paler than would be expected for a girl of her age and physical activity, but her mother never seemed to mind.
Yawning quietly, she pushed herself upright, ebony hair cascading about her shoulders, the faint silver sheen barely evident under the faint yellow light seeping in under her shutters. Her dark blue eyes swept wearily over her plain, off-white walls and a carven oak dresser that stood in one corner. Silver trinkets and thin chains glinted slightly, illuminated in the eerie green globe that hung from her ceiling.
It was really only a light bulb encased in translucent emerald rubber, but it gave the effect desired. That being to cast her seemingly plain room into a supernatural aura. For some reason, the Fourteen year old had a strange obsession with the supernatural, something her mom claimed to be 'a trait of the family.' Somehow, Dema didn't believe her. The woman was as normal as could be… well, aside from the weird room that she was never permitted to enter. She had said that was her husband's room… like a workplace, and no one was supposed to go in, no matter what the emergency. It was always locked anyway (And yes, she had tried getting in. The dumb room had no windows, and the door seemed to be locked in more than one place on the inside )
Speaking of her father…
No matter how hard she tried, Dema could never really speak with him. He only came home on weekends, and only stayed in the house for a few hours early in the morning. Even then, he always seemed to be running off somewhere.
Demetra slipped out of bed about an hour earlier than was normal for her, bare feet nearly silent on the off-white carpet. She slipped some baggy pants over her long legs, slipping into a loose-fitting black tee shirt with white-edged sleeves.
She tread across her room, eyes having already adjusted to the cool darkness that permeated the area. Her fingers quickly found a thin chain-link belt, slipping it through the loopholes around her waist, and fastening it with a few deft movements.
She glanced toward her window, watching the age-old tree behind her house scratch gently against the glass. Nodding absently to the tree's withered fingers, she turned her back on her sleeping place; andmoved to step daintilytoward the staircase. Her black choker was loosely fastened about her throat, the green emerald embedded in it glinting faintly.
Demetra sighed, her soft breath oddly visible, slightly bluish. She stared at the place where she had seen it, tilting her head to the side in interest. Shrugging off the weird chill that had fluttered up her spine, she exited her room, picking at a flaw on her chain belt while heading toward the stairs. Her slender fingers trailed down the carven oak rail, only half listening to her mom's voice on the ground floor.
Suddenly, Dema stopped, frozen like a deer in the headlights of a car. Another voice had replied to her mother's soft tones, obviously male. Dozens of worries sweapt over the teen, her movement switching automatically into stealth mode. Her muscles were tense as she slid silently down the rest of the stairs, hands loosely balled into fists, ears and eyes open. Reaching the bottom step, she carefully slid over it, avoiding the creaky spot and stalking over the hardwood floor toward the kitchen.
She often wondered why her mother had chosen medieval weaponry as a style of décor for this wing of the house, but was now quite grateful. Pressing her body against the wall just outside the doorway, she glanced up to assure herself the swords were still there, and crouched down to eavesdrop.
"Her grades are slipping… She just cant seem to pay attention in class. I took her to a psychatris- No, her name was NOT spectra. I know just as well as you- Sorry. The dude said she was perfectly normal, if not a little distracted. She keeps asking questions"
Trust her mom to call a well-known psychiatrist 'dude'. Honestly, that woman had the linguistic skills of someone from the nineteen sixties. Choosing to ignore the choice of words, dema leaned toward the doorway a bit, noting a rather strange feature…
"Questions about me?
There was that voice again! It sounded painfully familiar, though rather warped, as if it had an echo interwoven into its regular sound.
Her mother must have nodded the answer, for the voice began again. It gave her chills to hear it, but she couldn't seem to stop listening. Dema lifted her hand, brushing a few locks of her ebony hair back behind her ear, muscles starting to ache from being tense so long in this position.
"I will try and talk to her. In human form, of course. If she wont believe me, you can show her the photos."
Dema stopped short. 'Human form?' her thoughts were interrupted as the voice began again, sounding almost hopeful.
"Has she shown any signs of powers?"
"Neh… Not klutzy or nervous or anything. Just distracted."
Taking a deep breath, Demetra finalized her decision. She leaned to the side; peeking around the corner, jaw dropping in shock.
The entire room was bathed in an eerie white glow, apparently emanating from the figure near its center. Her mother had her arms draped around the man's shoulders, violet eyes gazing fondly at his face.
Dema couldn't see his face, but the fact her mother was gazing with such love at some strange male made her want to scream and puke at the same time. Something else caught her attention.
His feet weren't touching the ground. Their booted surfaces were floating an inch or so above the floor, slightly silvery in their own glow. His gloves were also platinum white, one hand curved around her mom's hip.
Without thinking, the fourteen year old clenched her jaw, leaping upward and ripping the sword from its showcase sheath. Leaping into the room, she dimly registered that the white-haired man was leaning forward to kiss her mother before she rushed forward, uttering a warlike cry of rage.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins, the silver blade ripping through the air to slam heavily against the side of the man's skull. He toppled off to the side, slamming against the wall in apparent surprise. The small cut across his temple mended itself in front of her disbelieving eyes, his own green eyes reproachful as he rose to his feet, eyeing the girl's samurai stance warily. He looked well-muscled, but not body-builder like, more just something he did for exercise.
Demetra lunged forward again, snarling in anger. Somehow, the blade just passed through his form, small tendrils of his being yanked off by the swiftly moving sword. They were quickly assimilated back into his body, melding back into the black outfit. She glared at the blazing white symbol on his chest… It looked like a black P inside of a white D… If you had turned it on its side, it almost looked like a pac-man ghost.
She growled as arms appeared at her sides, forcing her to drop the sword. Quite confused on the reason her mother had chosen this of all times to go against her, dema lashed out with both feet, nailing the startled man in the stomach before falling to on her rear due to lack of support.
"Relax!"
Her mother's voice was loud in her ear, and she slowly complied, baring her teeth in a feral challenge. The iron grip slowly released her forearms, leaving the teen to mutter incoherent curses, glaring sullenly at the tiled floor.
That creepy chill lanced up her spine, and she whipped her gaze upward, only to stumble backward as she found the man's face alarmingly close to her own. His glowing green eyes were curiously searching, not at all hostile despite the obvious attempt on his life.
He grinned , floating slightly higher.
"You were right, She is a lot like me."
With that, he turned around and sped upward through the air, disappearing through the ceiling. A moment of silence ensued, before the enormity of what happened hit the teen full in the face.
Ripping herself away from her mother, she turned to face the amused face with a passionate rage that surprised even her.
"How could you do that!"
Her voice rang through the house, probably down the street as well. However, her mother did nothing to stop the piercing accusations, velvet eyes wide with astonishment. The newly kindled fury in the girl did not die with the first scream, only growing fiercer.
"How could you betray me and dad to that… THING!"
Her mother's face looked hurt, lips thinning into a frown. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself, aware of the light dancing around her daughter's clenched fists.
Dema whirled away from the startled woman, storming back up the stairs, flitting up the ladder to their attic, oblivious to the scorch marks her hands made on the thick wood.
Her mother slowly inhaled, hand trembling as she flipped open the cellular phone recently taken from the counter. Hesitating for a moment, she quickly dialed a series of numbers, placing it to her ear and wrapping her free hand across her own waist. The receiver picked up, and before they could even say hello, she butted in.
"Tucker? Its Sam… tell Danny to come back. She does have them"
Without another word, she hung up, glancing down at where a rug once lay.
There was now nothing but a roughly circular layer of ash.