Home? Where you're at your safest right? Not my home. Still shaking I ease open the front door, only to find a piece of white, lined paper stuck to the wall. 'Carnaval de la Mort, 9 o'clock, tonight. Valentino.' Joyas joyity! My future husband, who enjoys drinking people's blood, has made a date with me behind my back. A horrible sick feeling at the bottom of my stomach told me there would be some extra information written on the back, and boy, was I correct. 'P.S. Don't forget to wear something blue. Like I said, Alice in Wonderland really suits you sugar.'
I feel myself shudder and cross my arms across my chest with a glare; I refuse to drop the low of playing dress up doll for a bloodsucking parasite. Even if they're a particularly scarred and frightening one. But deep down I know that I'll end up complying with Valentino's wishes. I shudder uncomfortably but make my way upstairs to my room anyways.
The house is silent as a graveyard. Mum's at work, and dad left a note of his own, telling me he'd gone grocery shopping with Evie in tow, leaving me alone. I curse them silently inside my head; wishing one of them could be here as I study the letter over and over again, my fingers tracing San Valentino's black penned, swirled writing. I roll my eyes and sigh quietly under my breath, checking the clock that sits at the top of the upstairs landing; the darkness of its wooden frame bizarre against the pale blue painted wall. It's almost five o'clock, giving me four hours to compose myself, get ready, and make an excuse for my reason of going out. I decide I'll claim I'm going into the Vale to catch a movie with Grubbs and Bill-E.
Bill-E is Grubbs' friend from when he first came here himself; he's a small, chubby boy with a lazy left eye and dark hair. Dressed plainly; faded grey t-shirt with a logo of a wolf on the front, scuffed jeans, and similarly scuffed trainers. Odd, but in an endearing way in my opinion; he told me interesting things about the Vale, and told me the well-known tale of Lord Sheftree, guy who fed his own baby to his pet piranha. Well, what a charming ickle place I'm living in eh? Vampoari in the woods, men feeding babies to carnivorous fish, what next? Please don't tell me some crazy girl killed and ate her boyfriend in my new room.
Laughing a little at my own private joke, I open my bedroom door, and stop dead. There's something on my bed, wrapped tightly in plastic. An outfit; a blue dress, I bet myself. Goodie goodie, San Valentino's been in my room, probably gone through all my things, maybe even stole my underwear-I wouldn't put it past him. I sigh again and dash over to the plastic wrapped item, and like I knew, it's a dress. An extremely expensive dress, seriously, like one of the ones a filmstar might wear at the Grammy's or the Oscars.
Not too long, but not too short, it'll be just below my paper white thighs; baby blue that will contrast with my eyes in a good way for once, patterns neatly sewn on it in white, glittering thread that makes it look like it's been kissed by diamonds, and makes me feel incredibly special. Little white lacy bow to tie around the waist, genuine silk white piece of ribbon to tie around my throat like a choker. But of course, a white Alice hairband; hardy ha ha! And a tiny pair of white sandals to finish the outfit with a flourish. Oh San Valentino, you do spoil me, a stupid, giggling voice remarks in my head. I cross my arms across my chest and crumble the note, chucking it sideways into the bin.
I sit on my bed next to the dress and think about where I'm going. 'Carnaval de la Mort' means 'carnival of death' in French, always promising to know that I'm going to a place apparently which causes death. Are the vampoari always into giving their hang out spots the most cliché names? The 'carnival of death', club 'fangs out', subtlety guys, great friend.
Picking up the phone gingerly, I dial Violet's number. I don't call her much, I use my computer to send her emails, and we chat online every night, giving each other updates on our lives. But I have a feeling the vampoari will find a way to hack my emails eventually, so I'm taking no chances. As I hear the phone begin to ring, I look behind me, and pad softly over to the window in my socks, staring out of it. No sign of a vampoari but one can never be too careful; I still doubt San Valentino was alone in those woods; it was like I could sense other beings presence there. Weird. If vampire type creatures existed, it made me question what else can.
Violet picks up on the fifth ring, sounding full of cold; she has extreme hay fever. "Hello?" She asks, her nose bunged up and sounding extremely tired.
"It's Esther," I say, my voice shaking a little. "I need to talk to you."
"Shoot," Violet says, although she sounds like she's dying.
"Do you believe in vampires?" I ask slowly.
"Vampires?" She beings laughing heartily, instantly sounding much better than she did before the second it comes out of her mouth. But she stops when she recognises the seriousness in my tone. "W-what's going on…" She asks, her voice thick with fear and concern.
"I met something like one on the way home from school today," I swallow tightly. "He called himself San Valentino, valentine in Italian, and claimed he's a vampoari." I say the word slowly and cautiously. "Apparently they're the origin of vampires, only real, and can walk in the sun, stalk me all day, and get into my room. They also have a fondness for delivering me pretty dresses, and apparently I'm marrying one!"
"Are you screwing with me?" Violet asks cautiously. "If this is joke, Esther, I'll-"
"I'm not joking!" I cut her off quickly. "This is serious, and you're the only person I can turn to Vi, this vampoari boy is serious on marrying me, and I have no say in the matter." Another sigh. "I'm going out at nine o'clock with them, to 'the carnival of death', fun right?"
"Be careful!" Violet says quickly. "Look, I'm sure I could beg dad to drive me down here in about two days' time."
"That'd be a great help!" I smile a little to myself; thrilled that someone finally understands and believes my insane situation. "See you soon Vi."
"You too Esther." The phone goes dead and I prepare myself for the night of my life, literally. This night may end my own.
Mum bought my lie about going to catch a film, and I rung Grubbs, asking him to comply my story. I lied to him that I was meeting up with a boy my parents didn't like and he believed me; I hate lying to my friends, but sometimes it's for the best. And on this occasion I know it's for the best. Getting my friends wrapped up with San Valentino and his clan of vampiric monsters will not do me any favours; it'll only get my new friends killed or scarred for life. And sadly, in this case, the former seems much more likely.
The Circus of Blood sounds like a pretty fucked up location, and so I'm deciding that for once, sticking with the bloodsucking vampoari will benefit; I don't literally want to end up dead. Dancing with death, teetering on the edge is one thing, but to actually feel your life slowly slipping away…That's a whole new horror that I wish to never experience, at least, not any time soon.
But something tells me this isn't just about death or paying back San Valentino for his scarring, this is about something different entirely, I have a use for the vampoari. I have no clue what this use is, but something else tells me tonight I all will be revealed. There are things I don't know about myself, and if San Valentino has the answers I seek, so be it; I'll work the system, play the game, but in the end I promise myself I'll be the victor. I will beat him at his own game, and then it'll be my turn to laugh at him. And I'll laugh as long, and as loudly as I want to!
The letter also told me to wait at the end of the lane leading to my house, so there was no way my father would be able to see the car that picks me up. I have a feeling deep in my stomach that my father would recognise a 'Fangs Out' car, despite not having seen them for over a decade apparently. But I don't think I would either now that I'm looking at one.
Purple, who in this world owns a purple car; a rich Egyptian purple car I mean, not a plum colour. The car has been waxed till it glimmers like a giant diamond in the moonlight, its headlights coming out in a similarly gaudy purple; how obnoxious, is all I can think. The windows have been blacked out, a sensible move, and I have no clue how many vampoari are in the car, or how powerful they are.
One of the moon caressed doors opens, and someone, not San Valentino steps out. She's human, I can sense that immediately, the very second one leather clad leg swings out of the car. Her pants are liquid leather, and royal blue in colour, and due to her large thighs and thick calves, I don't think they look too good on her. White leopard print top that goes off the shoulder, and clashes with her royal blue pants, but I think that was the intended affect. Pretty auburn hair, like a liquid sheen, cut off at her shoulders. Average coloured skin, a sort of peachy colour, goes well with her warm brown eyes. If she had better style, I'd say she was beautiful.
"Hello…" I say awkwardly, and the girl looks extremely uninterested, clearly thinking I'm the inferior. Bitch.
"Hi," she says, her accent cockney, a Londoner. "I'm Cynthia Ellenscrow, but call me Cindy, everyone does." It sounds stupid and tacky, but I nod and smile the best I can, making me look 'cute' in my blue Alice in Wonderland dress. I'm a few head taller than Cindy, even though she looks about seventeen; so either I'm really tall, or she's a midget; the latter seems more fitting. She sweeps her hand over the purple Pimp Mobile, and I try not to snigger, succeeding for once. "Come in."
I take a step forwards and make my way to the open door, stepping inside, with Cynthia Ellenscrow climbing in after me. There are only three vampoari in the back of the car, a promising sign, but it also means there will be more waiting for me. San Valentino is one of them; dressed like a riverboat gambler, only he's ditched the black and red for a nice indigo and white number, which looks better on him. His mask is silver, and he has a cane in one hand, looking suave. He tips his indigo hat when he sees me and I nod, politeness masking my non-obvious discomfort.
The other two vampoari study me cautiously, but make no effort to move or greet me. One is fairly short, but he still manages to be taller than Cindy; his skin is the colour of coffee, rich and warm brown, looking slightly odd against his pure white suit and red tie. His black hair has been slicked back, and matches his ebony eyes perfectly; several expensive looking rings are coating his fingers, and I can see his shoes because one of his legs is crossed over the other. Red spats, a little odd, but matching. His eyes never leave me, and a smile tweaks his lips, making him look a little disturbing.
Finally, comes the first female vampoari I've ever met. Magnificent. That's all I can think when I see her, in all her dangerous splendour. Black hair so black it has a tinge of blue when the light hits it, falls around her shoulders in delicate curls; eyes like emeralds stare at me, long eyelashes batting around them. Long like a camels, but attractive too. Pale as snow, the closest to Snow White I've ever seen; long, delicate hands curled in her lap like a sleeping cat. Dressed from head to toe in black, but tastefully so. Liquid leather pants, like Cindy's, but they suit her, outlining her slender legs. Black strapless top, with embroidery threaded through it, a shockingly expensive looking necklace hanging near her cleavage. Black knee length boots. A true little vampire type.
"Esther," the jazz cat in white and scarlet nods. San Valentino must have filled them both in with names. "I am Decha, the power. This," he gestures at Little Miss Stunner In Black. "Is Beauté Nacré, pearly beauty, in the language of love, French? Rather fitting I believe."
"Oh, yes, sir," I say quickly. Cindy laughs at my perfect manners, but the 'pearly beauty' silences her with one scathing look.
"Ignore Cynthia," she says; her voice rich and soothing, like silk is being rubbed against my cheeks, instantly making me feel at home and calm. I'm beginning to realise she's in charge of the 'Fangs Out' vampoari, by her posture, the way she was the only one to tell Cindy off, it's all becoming clear. "She is simply jealous of San Valentino's interest in you. And my own of course." She smiles, flashing snake-like fangs at me, but not trying to frighten me in the process. "But how could anyone not be jealous of someone with your power?"
"Power?" I ask, bewildered at what she's getting at.
"Yes," her accent is breaking into a French one, romantic and beautiful, just like her being. "Please, tell me how old I am." I feel her power slipping over me, probing at my mind like a stick, but it isn't as strong as San Valentino's attempt. It's weaker, and not by the fact she's choosing to be, she just isn't as old as him.
"I'd say you're almost about 600?" I guess, and she laughs loud and rich; like a song drifting around the cramped space in the back of the Pimp Mobile. Cindy is gawping at me, horrified that I've proven myself in front of the beings she's spent years failing to do.
"How did you do that?" Decha's voice sounds like he's in awe of me, as if he wants me to know how much he admires my power, and I instantly feel flattered. "Tell me how old I am!" The similar feeling of power slips over me, rubbing up my arms and closer to my brain. Still not as strong as Valentino, but more powerful than Beauté.
"You're in your mid 700's, right?" He too laughs, and I know I've gotten his age correct to; his laugh isn't like Beauté or Valentino's though, it's plain, yet cheerful and delighted. But it doesn't have the impact theirs did. It must be a power, I figure. Valentino said he could do things other's couldn't, this must be one of them.
"I told ya she was somethin' special," Valentino grins and shoots me a little wink. "Even Marcella couldn't do this when we first met her, she's different y'all." He pronounces the woman's name 'MAR-CHELLA' although I'm guessing there's no 'h' involved in the spelling. As if her name is a cue, the car jolts to a stop, and the door opens slowly, carefully. It's like the person opening the door is old and weak; and I'm proven right when the figure steps into the car.
Her age shocks me though, she only looks like she's in her mid-fifties, but she moves slowly, like every step is causing her immense pain. Her skin is tanned, and her eyes and hair are dark, so I know she's Latino. Her eyes are warm though, and have a kind sheen to them; her hair is peaking her waist like mine, and corkscrew curled ebony in shade. She's dressed in a pair of plane jeans, and a black blouse that looks fairly expensive. Her hands are scarred and Valentino passes her the cane.
"Marcella," the southern vampoari tips his hat like a true gentleman; Decha simply nods but holds out his arm, helping the in-pain woman to sit down, in-between himself and Beauté Nacré. The female vampoari places her arm on Marcella's shoulder and squeezes it. "This is Esther, the little gal I told you about."
Marcella looks at me and smiles slightly; the minute she does so her face looks younger, and twice as soft and beautiful. "Ah, my progeny," her voice is heavily accented, but English is her first language. But progeny? What the hell?
"Excuse me, ma'am," I say politely, this time Cindy doesn't laugh. "But, what are you talking about?"
"Did Valentino not tell you?" I shake my head at her question and she tuts slightly. "Boy," she sighs, looking at him, and he laughs loudly making her smile. "One of these days you must remember to inform women of such things, but now is not the time for lecturing. Esther," she leans across the gap between the seats and takes my soft hands with her own weathered ones. "You have been born with a tremendous gift, the gift of necromancy." I feel my eyes go wide. Necromancy? As in, bringing people back from the dead? Holy shit. "The gene is passed down in families," Marcella explains. "But it skipped your father Michael, leading for him to become a painter; but in true form, it resurfaced in his daughter, in you. I'm sure you know what necromancy is, the conjuring of the deceased, but you will require my help to control it. Especially after I'm gone."
"Marcella's dying," Beauté Nacré says softly in her glamorous accent, making even such a depressing statement sound poetic. "Too many years of resurrecting people and zombies are causing her to rot; she has to use magic to sustain her body now. But if she can teach you, Esther, then we will have hope!"
"What's the difference between a human resurrection and a zombie resurrection?" Cindy asks, the first thing she's said in front of the vampoari.
"A zombie resurrection is where you bring back a person but they are not fully alive," Marcella explains to the both of us. "They are mindless, they only seek to be controlled by those who bring them back, and they are not a real person. But if you bring back a human, they will be as they were before death; they will be truly alive, their heart still beating, personality still intact, memories restored. Truly a person." She smiles. "But they necromancer must learn young, or they will end up like me." She sighs. "Start young and you will flourish Esther, always remember that."
"What about my parents?" I ask cautiously. "Will they know about this? Where will I live? Will I still attend school? What's going to happen to me?"
"You will still receive an education at the Vale's school," Beauté reassures me. "But you will live with Marcella from now onwards, so nothing happens to you. And you will work for us, but of course we will pay you when you do a job for us, we are not tight fisted." I swallow back any complaints; no more family, I'll miss them dearly but I know I have no choice in the matter. "Your parents will be contacted, and your belongings collected. Marcella has plenty of room in her house."
"So this was why you contacted me?" I ask, "So you can tell me about my new life, cool…" I smile awkwardly at them. "And you're taking me to the carnival so I can meet the rest of the vampoari?" At least I know where I stand.
"No," Valentino says and I open my mouth, fury bubbling up, but he cuts me off before I can start insulting him like I want to. "That was just a pretence. Sorry that I lied to you, my Esther, but we knew you'd never come otherwise; the dress was just to convince you that my story was true. We really bought you along so Marcella could show you how her abilities work, so you what you will be in for."
"Great, just great," I mumble embittered, hating San Valentino, Decha and Beauté Nacré with an intense passion. I don't hate Cindy though; I just pity her dependence upon these creatures. I only feel truly safe with Marcella, who is like me, a necromancer. Although I've only just found this destiny changing piece of information out. Life is certainly a bitch.
The car halts, and we step out; I realise we've driven from my house, to Marcella's, only to come back to…Dervish Grady's house? "What are we doing here?" I ask, shocked at the location they've chosen. "This is trespassing! We can't just come onto his land and resurrect every-"
"Necromancer's do not require permission," Beauté Nacré states in a superior sort of way. "They can go on anyone's land to raise corpses, even the Disciples know this. Dervish Grady is a Disciple, so he will have to like it or lump it." I laugh at the moderness of that statement and she smiles. Brownie point for me.
Marcella leads us round to the very back of the mansion, into the woods. The trees bend over us like knarled, witches hands, out to grab us. The ground is bumpy and uneven, and I'm glad that Valentino chose sensible footwear for me. Cindy is already out of breath, although we're not even that far into the woods; should've laid off the McDonald's, Miss Piggy, is all I can think of saying. But I keep my mouth shut and smile sweetly at her, ignoring the daggers she glares in return. Brownie point for me.
The entire place gives me the major creeps, I have no clue how Grubbs can live here but then again, there are a lot of things about the world that confuse me, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Everything seems to be leering at me, stretching out to grab me and hurt me. And I hate it, I hate everything about this place; not the house itself, but the outer regions like this are just horrid. Even with the moon shining overhead like a giant, white, ethereal marble of light in the sky, I keep myself close to Marcella, and don't look back. That's the worst thing I could do.
We finally arrive, at an open, odd plot of land in the centre of a quarry type area. It looks pretty untouched but I can sense human energy here, the energy of two boys. I'm betting it's Bill-E and Grubbs; I can naturally sense Grubbs' aura from back at the house, but Bill-E's is here too. He confided in me that he believes Dervish is his father, so it is understandable why he would come to the house often and hang out at the quarry with Grubbs. Grubbs knows this too, but seemed uncomfortable when Bill-E told me. It wasn't jealousy, it was as if there's something he isn't' telling either of us; it is now my mission to discover what this is. After I get my head round all the mad shit that's been sprung upon me tonight.
"The cave was just below here," Marcella says quietly, solemnly. "The body will be buried several feet, the depth of which I do not know." I stare at her, confused.
"Then how will you raise the body?" I ask, everyone's eyes turn to me. "I mean, if it's down what could be hundreds of feet, how will it rise close enough to the surface for the person to be able to climb out? Will there even be a body? I'm betting this could be thousands of years old by the looks of this place, will there even be anyone to bring back?"
"A strong necromancer can bring back anyone," the 'pearly beauty' informs me. "Even without a body, Marcella can raise them, just by spirit. As long as we have a sacrifice." She looks at Cindy whose eyes practically pop out of her skull, but laughs heartily and shakes her head. "An animal sacrifice, my dears." As if by magic, she produces a large, pure white lamb. A literal 'white lamb' sacrifice. Almost poetic, is all I can think to myself.
She leads the lamb over to Marcella, who has unsheathed a knife from its hilt. I feel my skin begin to prickle with goose bumps but say nothing; I cannot interrupt this, I need to learn. Even if it means a cute, innocent, ickle lamb must die in the process of my learning; I know more will be killed. "How come you can use a lamb to raise someone who's been dead for thousands of years? I thought it'd take a human being or something seen as more 'valuable' to do this?" Marcella looks at me, interested at my question.
"You ask many questions Esther, all of them extremely useful, I enjoy your curiosity like a cat enjoys fresh cream. And to answer your question, which you rightly asked; lambs are seen as the signature of hope, innocence and purity, even more so than humans. True, you can use a virgin maiden to bring back a dead person, but due to my power I do not require this. And sacrificing a human would have horrific consequences I cannot begin to tell you of. And if I teach you well enough, so will you." She smiles at me.
After laying the goat peacefully down on the floor, so it's in a sleeping position, she takes a knife to its throat and after one clean, swift cut, a river of blood-looking black in the low light, trickles onto the ground around us, dripping through cracks in the earth, down into the cavern. I watch, unblinking, and swallow tightly as the wind in the air picks up around us. Magic is clearly afoot. I have a sudden sick feeling and my knees begin knocking together, but it's ignored.
Marcella's eyes are closed, her mouth saying silent words, as the wind picks up; the trees surrounding the area beginning to be tugged by the violent wind, as my eyes watch the ground with a shining interest. The vampoari are emotionless statues, only blinking proving they're not just mannequins. Cindy is shivering with sheer terror, under different circumstances, and if Cindy had been kinder to me, I would have offered her some comfort. But I don't think I owe her it. Call me a bitch, I don't care; Cindy's twice as much the bitch I'll ever be, and common decency from me would be too much to give her.
I watch the earth intently, waiting for something to happen, and sure enough, it does. The ground begins to part like an earthquake has hit us, splitting the ground apart, but in a neat way. A long, thin crack slithers along the ground like a hungry snake, and it begins to widen, giving the awakening being a chance to crawl out of their cavernous prison. The wind picks up even more and my dress is whipping around my thighs, fluttering like a cape around me.
Sure enough, something happens. A hand shoots out the ground, and someone screams, it's Cindy-but we all knew it'd be her. It's untouched, like the person hasn't been dead for possible thousands of years, but just fell down a hole. Scratches litter the callous skin, but those came long before their untimely death, and they're not too old either. The hand's still fairly small, but bigger than mine, so I'm guessing it's a boy, or a particularly masculine girl at that, but boy is a safer bet.
Another hand follows, and the now alive person begins to try and pull themselves out of the ground. I take a step forwards to give them a hand, but Marcella's hand clamps down on my shoulder and she pulls me back. "No, niña," she says. From the little knowledge of Spanish I have, I know 'niña' means 'little girl'. "Let him pull himself out of the ground, if he slips and falls and you are holding on, you will go down with him and die down there too." So I was right, it is a boy, but I acknowledge her warning and stay still as a statue.
"This is dangerous," whispers Decha. "You could open the gateway for the Demonata-"
"No." Marcella hisses at the vampoari with amazing courage. "The sacrifice must be human for the tunnel to be opened; a lamb's blood will not grant Lord Loss his wishes of opening the tunnel. I promise you that." Pushing my fears of this new news aside, I study the boy as he tries to pull himself out of the ground, still wanting to dash forwards and help him up. I think he's going to pull it off though, his arms are up now, covered in familiar scarring as his hands, but even deeper and more painful looking.
"How did he get them?" I whisper breathlessly and Marcella looks at me.
"Fighting demons," she replies. "The boy had incredible bravery I have heard; he will be a good addition to our circle. Such a shame about his twin," she sighs.
"Twin?" I ask, curiosity peaked.
"Yes, he had a twin. But I am weak, my rotting illness hinders my abilities, I will die trying to resurrect his twin. Besides, we have no clue where his body is, so it would be futile." She looks back at the boy who is struggling to pull himself out and smiles softly. "Decha," she looks at the splendidly dressed vampoari. "Help him out of his predicament. It is painful to watch him fail; he is weakened from the strength of willing his organs to work again."
Decha nods and rushes forwards, quicker than I can blink; he grabs hold of the boy's arms and picks him out of the ground like a potato, dropping him on his back, onto the earth below. He coughs violently for a couple of silent minutes, before looking up at the five of us, confusion on his face. My caring side, which is rare to see, takes over and I kneel down next to him, ignoring the stones digging into my bare legs as he pushes himself up with his arms. He isn't even kneeling upright yet and he can make eye contact with me.
Red hair, bright red hair. Not ginger like Grubbs, natural red, a colour extremely rare to find nowadays with all the dye and the peroxides we depend upon; stubble around his face, like he chose not to shave in his original life span. A short lifespan indeed. He only looks sixteen years old, a little over a year older than me. Naked chest area but he's wearing a tunic, which means that I don't have to get too embarrassed. Lots of earrings embedded in his ears, like small hands enclosed around them. We make eye contact, my indigo, with his light green and it's the singular most awkward moment of my life.
I can feel Cindy loitering in the background, hovering like she wishes to get involved in our close body contact. A whore as well as a bitch, great! Sue me, I'm judgemental.
"Is he okay?" Cindy asks, tactful as ever, and the boy looks at her like he can't understand a word she's saying, confusion creasing his facial features. All is making sense; he's from ancient Ireland, he doesn't speak a word of English, only Celtic. "Are you doing something to him?" She accuses me, and anger flushes across my face, reddening my cheeks and my mouth is open with open disgust.
"I am not doing anything to him, and don't talk about him like he isn't here!" I hiss at her, she glowers and spits at me, charming. "It's probably you, and all your human energy fucking up the aura of the environment." The vampoari snigger and Marcella smiles at me, congratulating me for sticking up for myself. The boy, whose name I still don't know, clamps his hand down on my shoulder and I jump out of my skin, with a little squeak of surprise. Cindy smirks but I don't want to put any effort into looking at her.
"What is that girl saying?" He asks me and I jump out of my skin, I can understand him. I've never learnt Celtic during any point of my life, so how can I understand him, but more importantly how can he understand me? "I…I don't recognise that language." His accent is thick, Irish, even thicker than my classmates, but I guess it makes him cuter. I've always liked accents, but my own makes me sound stupid as fuck.
"It's English," I say uncertainly. "The language most people speak now, even here in Ireland." He looks even more confused now. "It's 2005, you've been dead for thousands of years." He looks terrified, and I have to clamp my hands on his bare shoulders so he doesn't run off and get himself hurt. "But it's okay! I…I can look after you. I understand what you're saying, I don't know how but I can, something inside me is translating what you're saying."
The others are staring at me like I've lost my mind, even Cindy. "How can she understand him?" Cindy asks, obviously not wanting to speak to me directly.
"Some necromancers can know any language," Marcella says. "I was not blessed with that gift, but my niece-Rosetta, was. She can even speak Ancient Greek; it appears Esther has this gift too, and a good thing. Or he would have no-one to talk to." I try my best to ignore this and turn my attention back to the recently resurrected boy.
"Who are these people?" He asks me, staring at them, openly horrified at these strangers. He feels overcrowded, clearly; he wants it just to be the two of us, alone, somewhere private, somewhere where he can just talk to me about what's going on. All these people are suffocating him.
"They're my…Employers." I say, not wanting to use the word 'friends' for any of them, except possibly Marcella, but even then I'm not too sure. I smile a little, before turning back to the vampoari, Marcella and Cindy. "Could you all um…Go?" I ask, trying not to just tell Cindy to 'get lost'. "You're overcrowding him, and that could have some negative effects. This is a scary new world, how would you like it if a tonne of people were just staring blankly at you?"
"She has a point," Valentino says, nodding. "We should go and wait by the car for them, bring him when you are ready Esther." The three vampoari disappear in true glamorous style, with a whoosh of air, and the boy looks stunned. Decha had picked Marcella up gracefully and carried her with him, Cindy is left standing there, appalled she didn't get this treatment.
"Go on then," I usher. "Bye Cindy!" I wave as she glares at me, as she storms off behind them and snigger a little, the boy extremely confused.
"Why is she so cruel to you?" He asks, "I cannot understand her, but her body language shows she dislikes you, why?"
"I don't know," I sigh and give his shoulder a little squeeze. "Maybe she's jealous, I don't think I'll ever know, she'll never tell me, I know that for sure." He laughs a little and shakes his head, earrings clinking as he does so.
"What is your name, blonde girl?" He looks at my hair. "No-one from my village had hair as light as yours, how is it so pale?" Two questions in a row, fun times.
"I'm Esther Bake, it means friendly, approachable and generous." I say and he nods to show me he understands, but he still looks extremely curious. "As for my hair, my mum is from Denmark. A lot of people from there have light blonde hair, so I inherited it from her I guess." He stares at me, wide eyed, and I realise he'd have never left Ireland. All this information must be so confusing for him.
"You certainly live up to your name Esther," he says, trying out my name like it's a foreign food in his mouth, as I try not to blush at his complement. "To me you seem friendly, approachable and generous. I am Lorcan, it means 'little fierce one'. I suppose I lived up to my name as well, Esther." He studies my face for a while, and I realise the inevitable is about to happen. My 'hidden beauty' will shine through. "You are beautiful, but a type of beauty I've never seen before. Is this because of where your mother is from?"
"Yes," I say, blushing immensely. I giggle like an idiot and he looks carefully at me, as I try to regain my composure. "Sorry!" I say quickly. "I just couldn't help myself. You certainly sound like you live up to your name too, Lorcan."
"Thank you," he nods and stands up, I hastily stand up next to him. "Where am I?"
"Carcey Vale," I say quickly. "You're still where you came from, only a lot has changed. No-one longer fights, there are schools where you can learn-"
"Demons?" He asks quickly. "Do the demons still haunt you?"
"No." I reply. "There are no demons." Lorcan simply looks amazed and studies his surroundings carefully, as if he's deciding where to go. I hold out my hand towards him, and he takes it. I smile shyly. "Come with me, I'm the only person who can understand you. Just come with me, back to the car."
"Car?" He asks innocently. "What is 'car'?"
"You'll see," I say with a smile, trying to suppress a small giggle. "You have a lot to learn, and I'll teach you. I promise."