If you haven't already, maybe check out the songfic I wrote from Paul's
POV, that ties into this story? It's called "Hate to Love." I'm kinda proud
of it . . . So if you wanted more about Paul's character, yeah, check that
out. Okay, yeh.
Candace – Your story rocks, babe.
Luna – you need help . . . This spork thing is worrying me now. **************************************************************************** *******
Jesse's POV.
I didn't know how to feel. Paul Slater had made another attempt on Susannah's life. I . . . I wanted to kill him, but I knew that wasn't an option. I wanted to exorcise him, but even that was out of the question. And this attack on the cat, my God. It was sadistic, heinous. To think, that could have been my Susannah! It was a horrible thought indeed. I was speculating when he could have had the opportunity to do such a thing. I would have thought that there would be no time, yet seemingly, Susannah's and my, er, expressions of love, had been distracting.
But Paul, he'd gone too far . . .
That message, the one printed in the blood of the cat, it was terrifying for Susannah. She reacted very uncharacteristically. It was not like her to break down like she did, be so terrified that she could not move and barely breathe even. It wasn't like her.
How do you know what she's like, Jesse? You've been in Spain all of this time. The time where she needed you most . . .
I stared longingly at my Susannah. She was now asleep, although, I couldn't say she was restful. No, her forehead was creased in anxiety, and she was very tense all over, beneath the thin bed-covers. They draped over her body gently, yet were pulled taunt when she twisted to face me, still grimacing in her dreams. Her hand, it clutched something firmly in her hand, so furiously, her whole hand was shaking.
Oh . . . a glimmer of a smile came to me. It was my Shaman brand. The one that I'd given to her. She had no idea what that meant to me. No idea in the world.
She had no idea what she meant to me, ether. But I place both of those things in entirely different categories.
Not that Susannah is a "thing." Never a mere 'thing."
And who was this "Thaddeus Beaumont" boy? The name was reminiscent to me, like a whispered memory from the past. Beaumont . . . I frowned in my thought. When was that name mentioned? The name Thaddeus, for some reason, wasn't as familiar as the name "Beaumont" was. Where had I heard that name?
It didn't entertain me not to understand some of these things. You could almost call me "obsessive" when I wanted to know answers. It was horrible to be ignorant of something. To not know.
I was sidetracked from my thoughts when I heard Susannah sigh in a distraught manner. In her sleep, but nevertheless. What were these dreams that she was having? Could they have anything to do with Paul?
Oh God. I do realize what is happening. I blame him for everything, don't I?
I groaned to myself, watching Susannah intently. Every twitch of her lips, every movement of her eyes, every curl of her fingertips . . . She was so beautiful. How could innocence like this be real? Beauty so immaculate be possible? The Lord had created this perfect angel. That was why it hurt so much to see her live in this endless fear. This torment that Paul Slater subjected her to.
I had no desire to sleep. Never. Not while there was a chance that he would return to finish the things that he wanted to do. I knew Paul too well. And he knew me even better. It felt so surreal. This boy that I had grown up with, laughed with, been supported by . . . he was a murderer. I knew how he thought, his motives, but I could pinpoint the moment where his whole attitude to the world changed.
Who knew?
The feeling of killing, it had been the worst experience of my life. Pulling the trigger of a weapon that I knew would destroy a life. Take it away. You have no idea what it is like to do this. It . . . it feels like you are taking away something of yourself as well. Your integrity, honour. I felt almost hollow, knowing that I was indeed, a murderer.
Just like him.
But the fact that Susannah had been dragged into this chaotic war of vengeance was the part that killed me the most. Knowing that more was at take than my own life.
So much more.
It was as if, the moment that I had met her, I suddenly had a powerful reason to keep myself alive. Do not misconstrue me, I have no death wish. There has never been a time in my life where I have just wanted to die to stop any pain that I may have been feeling. I have always had the love of my family to live for, the great life ahead of me.
But Susannah, well, it seemed like there would be no real life ahead of me without her in it.
She was my life now.
I was ashamed of myself for the way that this Querida Andres situation had been handled. Susannah, mi Dios, she'd thought that I hadn't loved her! There was not a second that I didn't love her. To think that my imprudence had caused her these qualms, well, it was awful. Although, it has to be said that my Susannah can, at times, ah, jump to conclusions. She had, of course, just assumed the worst from the little that I'd told her. Of course I had no interest in Querida in that way. She was a sweet girl, but she was far to orderly. Undeniably, my family had fallen in love with her neatness, punctuality, perfection, almost, but it was to a point where it was . . . irritating? Susannah . . . wow. She had that free spirit that few people have these days. She cared. Her nature was so beautiful, as was her loyalty. The fact that her eyes, beyond comparison, were the most beautiful, most sparkling green eyes that I'd ever seen in my life, well, that was certainly a plus. And her smile . . . it brightened up the darkest hour. Dios, there are too many magical qualities to list them all. All things about her were flawless. I felt like I was undeserving of such perfection.
Wow. I was deep in this love, wasn't I?
I'd fallen hard.
I sat on her window seat, breathing evenly, staring that her fair face framed angelically by dark waves of hair, when a howl shattered the almost restful silence of my thoughts.
I flinched in shock, as a shower of blue light appeared right beside Susannah's bed. Damn!
Susannah burst up, her eyes wide and scared. I stood up and rushed over to her to let her know that I was here. I knew that this ghost wasn't Paul, this cry had been the cry of a child.
A small boy of eight stood in front of Susannah, bawling to the heavens.
'Spikey's dead! You got him killed! He's gone!' he wailed, balled fists rubbing his eyes furiously. 'Gone! And now I'm back here! You're a YUCKY MEDIATOR!'
Susannah looked at him very sympathetically. Which, knowing her, was something quite extraordinary, considering her track record. Mind you, this boy was only young, so I guess she had compassion for him because of it.
'Tim,' she soothed, and put her hands on his shoulders. He fell, crying, into her open arms. His face was shining with tears, and he was shaking severely. I stood, observing how Susannah was handling his condition.
'Shhhh,' she hushed him. 'Come on, I know it sucks. I'm as scared as you are, dude. But I'm going to make it all better, okay –'
'YOU CAN'T! SPIKE IS DEAD! HE CAN'T COME BACK!'
Susannah sighed. 'I know that, Timmy. Shhhh.' The small boy hiccuped, and sniffed loudly. Susannah ran her hand through his mousy brown hair affectionately.
'But do you know how he died?' he whispered to her.
Susannah nodded glumly. 'Yes.'
Timothy sniffed again. 'It was horrible. He . . . yuck. That's just gross. And sick. Do you know who did it?'
Again, Susannah nodded. 'Yeah. And you know what? That guy who did it, he's going to pay for it.'
'Is he a crazy person?' Timothy asked in a hushed voice.
Both of them were conveniently ignoring my presence.
Susannah smiled slightly, and gave me a sideways glance. 'He's a psycho, all right. And he's going to really be sorry that he ever hurt your cat.'
Timothy's eyes welled up dangerously again, but Susannah gave him a firm hug again. I smiled proudly. She was like a mother. So beautiful. Timothy, he trusted her. Like she would make everything better. I knew how this felt, because of Adrianna. Whenever she held onto me, it was like she trusted me completely with her life. It was one of the best feelings in the world, to be a brother to something so small, and precious.
Timothy was clearly traumatized. I did not understand exactly why. From what I could gather, Spike had been his cat – obviously – and . . . well, that's all I knew.
But it's okay, he answered my question.
'It's just that . . . I was kept back for him, and now he's dead,' he said in a terrified whisper into Susannah's ear. Susannah looked up at me with a tiny smile. 'It's okay,' she replied to him. 'We'll make it better.'
Timothy hugged her tighter. 'Thankyou . . . '
'What is your name?' I asked him.
'Tim,' he said.
'Yes, I know that,' I said kindly, 'Your last name.'
'Oh,' he grimaced. 'Doherty. And don't go with all the jokes. I've heard them all. "Toe-dirty," and . . . and "no-shirty," and –'
'Timothy,' I stopped him, smiling. 'I have no intention to tease you.'
'Good,' he warned with a heavy pout, his eyes still glassy. 'Because I kick real hard, bud.'
~*~
Suze's POV
Jesse took me aside.
'Where's he going to stay, Susannah?' he asked with an anxious frown.
I yawned. Come on, I was TIRED. It was like, almost two. I'd been asleep for the grand total of, I dunno, forty minutes? It had been one of the longest nights of my life. (A/N: Got that right. How many chapters has this night gone on again?) Mum still must have been filming. This sucked. Well, actually, I take that back. I'm sorry. My life had taken a complete turn. Jesse, oh God, he was back, and he was MINE. And that little declaration of undying love had been pretty neat, too. In fact, it put a lot of things in perspective. Who care about Paul? What harm could he do, really? I mean, I didn't think he had the guts to actually hurt my mum, or whatever. And even my step-brothers didn't seem like real targets. And Andy . . . to Paul, that was like, "Andy who?"
But yeah.
I could handle it.
Now that Jesse was back.
I smiled secretively, and brushed my fingers over the Egyptian pendant thingie just to make sure that it was still there. It was comforting beneath my fingers. But back to the present . . . Timmy. What was I going to do? I mean, now that his cat had gone, and he'd been brought back, what was his reason for staying on earth? God, not revenge on Paul, please. That would be weird. Like, Timmy going on a poking spree, all, "Hey, you killed my pussy-cat! Take that, mister!"
Poke, poke.
Then Paul would probably blow him up.
Oh, PLEASE NOT REVENGE.
He's only a KID!
I stopped. He didn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't just wander around aimlessly. He was only what, nine? Nah, I'd made up my mind.
'He's gonna stay here,' I said to Jesse calmly.
He stared at me.
And then snorted.
'What?' I demanded indignantly.
'Susannah, I don't think that you could handle taking care of a child. You are not a mother. If I am right in what I'm thinking, that you are quite fond of him, I must say that it will be a lot harder than you think, to keep him safe from Paul. Keeping him here will only make him a target of Paul. Even worse, Paul will use him to get to you if he knows that you've developed an emotional attachment with the boy. It would be unwise for you to do so, Susannah. I speak in your best interests, but primarily, Timothy's.'
My mouth fell open in outrage. 'I don't have to be a mother to him, Jesse. God, I don't need to change diapers every five seconds. He's just . . . alone now. I'm not letting him go around on his own.' I yawned again in spite of the argument. 'And Paul won't touch him.'
'You do not know that, Susannah.'
'I . . . '
He was right. In fact, everything he'd said had been the truth, basically. But I didn't care. Tim, the poor little guy, his cat was dead, and . . . well, his cat was dead.
'He's staying,' I said firmly, crossing my arms. Timothy was looking at us curiously from the corner of the room, where he sat, practicing making my copies of "Vogue" float.
Fast learner, too.
'Susannah,' Jesse snapped, but at that moment, my magazine was rocketed at his head. 'Ow!' he scowled, and turned to Timmy, who was grinning broadly.
'Sorry,' the kid shrugged. But of course he didn't mean it.
I giggled, and ran my hand over where the flying publication had attacked Jesse. His eyebrows rose up curiously, but I pulled him into a gentle, warm kiss. We stood there, intimately, just lightly kissing, when a copy of "Dolly" slid in between mine and Jesse's face, blocking him from my view. It took me about three seconds to realize that I was actually kissing a picture of Orlando Bloom, and not Jesse.
'You're gross,' Timothy commented from the corner.
I spun around, miffed. 'Oi, that was mean.'
He beamed at me, showing a missing tooth in his bottom row. Oh, he was just so cute.
Puppy cute, mind. Jesse, he was cute in an entirely different way.
I grabbed the magazine and tossed it on my bed. Jesse looked annoyed too, with me though.
Probably because I was "so" stubborn.
'Okay, Tim,' I turned to him, sighing. 'Here's the deal. You're allowed to stay here, okay?'
He brightened considerably. 'Really?' he squeaked. But then, his smile froze slightly. 'Hang on . . . ' he said slowly. 'You guys won't be snogging all the time, right?'
I blushed, and Jesse gave me a smug smile. Like, "get used to it. He's going to piss you off no end."
Well, I could take Paul. Tim would be child's play.
Literally.
'No, we won't,' I said. 'Definitely not.'
He relaxed. 'I'm glad. Because you could hear the smoochy noises.'
I rolled my eyes, but smiled knowingly. Why did the little guy have to be so sweet?
~*~
'Suze, what are you doing at school? You should be resting.'
CeeCee had run up the hall as I was walking to Calculus. My head was pounding dully, much to my chagrin, and I still felt a little fragile. Not how I liked to be, trust me. Fragile is NOT a good thing.
I shrugged at her. 'I'm fine. It was just a little scratch.'
But from the look CeeCee was giving me, she was dubious. Hell, she looked doubtful in a SCARED way. Whah?
I blinked at her. 'Uh, CeeCee? Did I lose you?'
CeeCee stared at me, her forehead creasing ever more. I was taken aback. Huh? Did she . . . Nah.
Hang on . . .
*Flashback*
'Is cause for blood loss identified?'
'No . . . she has no marks upon her body except her neck, but the wound is too small for her to have lost so much. Her friend wasn't giving any details, either.'
. . . F-f-friend?
*End*
I went dead still. 'CeeCee, was it . . . was it you who found me the other day? When, you know, I was unconscious?'
CeeCee's eyes darted away. 'Maybe.'
Frustrated, I groaned. 'Cee . . . was . . . Paul still there? That guy? The one who asked you about me and Jesse last month? Was he – '
'So what if he was?' she yelped, turning away.
Oh, God.
'Did he say anything . . . weird?' I asked. If he said anything about Tad, by God, I would – well, let's just say he and Spike would have a lot in common.
CeeCee crossed her arms. 'Maybe.'
Oh.
My.
God.
A bubbling rage simmered within me. I slammed my locker shut, forgetting about class and everything, and marched straight up the hall.
'Suze! Wait!' CeeCee ran up to me. I kept on walking. I was going to KILL HIM! Well – shit! It was times like this I regretted that he was a ghost. It meant I couldn't rip his head off and make the damage permanent.
SCREW PAUL!!!!
'Suze, look. What he said, I can't remember,' CeeCee giggled unpersuasively. 'Really. I'm sure –'
'What did he say?' I demanded heatedly, as people parted to let me pass.
'He . . . well, he was going on about – look, he's crazy, who cares what –'
'Tell me!'
'Vampires!' she snapped. 'It's stupid. Vampires and demons. As if –'
Huh? Demons?
DEMONS?! On top of everything ELSE?!?!
I groaned in aggravation, disrupting everyone in the hall. They stared momentarily, sniggered slightly, but continued chatting. I still kept marching on to Father Dom's office. Something HAD to be done!
'Suze, come on. It's not true, right?' she asked. 'He's a nut case, isn't he?'
I stopped walking, so that my hair swished forward and whipped my face. Oh God. This was what I wanted to avoid all my life. Questions. CeeCee couldn't believe everything she heard from Paul. She didn't want to. And now she wanted to make sure from me that it WAS all bull. She was on the verge of insanity here. I knew what she wanted to here, but I couldn't just lie, right?
I mean, VAMPIRES. And . . . DEMONS? What the hell?!
'Yeah, Cee,' I said dryly, 'He's a nut. Forget what he said. He was on his ghostly crack.'
CeeCee pursed her lips. 'Simon, stop it.'
I shook my head, and kept walking. Paul, he was going to tell my friends everything. No, I wouldn't let him. I fought me own battles – with occasional exceptions of a Mr J. De Silva – and Adam and CeeCee weren't to know everything about me like they. The way they'd both found out had been accidental. But Paul . . . now I knew. He was going to expose everything.
Oh, shit!
I HAD to find a way to exorcise him! I didn't care what Jesse said. There had to be a way, some way to make him leave. He couldn't just make me live like this, in fear that everything I loved and knew, would just crumble around me. My secrets revealed . . .
NO.
'Oi, the nerd wants his essay back.'
Dopey's voice stopped me in my tracks. I ran round to the other side of the lockers, and saw that Dopey and Scott and a throng of other jocks were jeering at this scrawny little ninth grader, who was trying to grab a paper from Dopey's beefy hand. He jumped high, but Dopey, being freakishly tall, held it out of his reach.
My already boiling blood hit the temp of no return.
I burst into the mob of stupid guys, and kicked Dopey in the back of the kneecaps. He grunted in shock as he fell forward, the paper fluttering out of his hands. The kid caught it, and he shot me a grateful but terrified look, and scarpered. Dopey scrambled up, furious.
I glared at him, as his mates went all with the mockery. To my darling step- brother, I hissed, 'If I catch you doing that again, I'm going straight to Father Dom.'
He looked at me as if I was a nut. 'I'm SO scared, Suze. Really.'
'Yeah?' I said. 'Well, as your Vice President, Brad, I have a very powerful voice. Combine said voice with the principal's of this quaint little school, we can have you kicked of the wrestling team like that,' I snapped my fingers.
Dopey's eyes widened. 'No way,' he retorted in panic, 'You're bullshitting.'
'Wanna take me up on that?' I snarled. His brows practically met, he was so angry.
'You're a bitch,' he growled, walking past and shoving me in the shoulder. Scott threw me an ugly look. I smiled cheerfully at him, waggling my fingers.
Well, that served to be quite a good de-stresser.
Should kick his butt more often.
I sighed, and dragged my hand through my hair. CeeCee had gone to class by then. I was late. Most people were out of the hall, but Dopey's gang were typically taking their sweet time. I ran back to my locker, grabbed my books, and ran to Calculus. I mean, I could have just bummed it off and spent a period gibbering to Father Dom about Paul's threats, but that wouldn't suit at all. He'd get worried, and he'd probably tell me to do something drastic, and really, I didn't know what I wanted to do about the whole thing.
You know what the worst bit was?
If you asked me to exorcise him, right here and now . . .
I'd probably say no.
~*~
I was sitting in calculus, feeling very guilty. Mr Osbourne was drawling on about like terms and shit, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy thinking about the wretched thing that I was.
What was going ON with me?
I stared at my textbook, but not seeing it, you know? Staring past it. I could feel that Egyptian pendant around my bitten neck. Those two things seemed to clash, for some reason. A vampire bite and a symbol of love. They weren't opposite things, but I dunno . . . The vampire bite was like . . .hunger, wasn't it? Craving for blood? Desire, just like lust?
Love and lust. Everything in my life boiled down to those two things. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Light and darkness . . .
Jesse and Paul.
Mr Osbourne's monotonous brogue almost put me right to sleep, in a total non-lullaby way, but then there was a knock at the door. I was jerked out of my somnolent state, and my eyes snapped to the door. Rolling his eyes, portly Mr Osbourne grumbled. 'Come in . . . '
I blinked in wonder as a tall but squalid looking guy stumbled in, clutching the biggest bouquet of roses I'd ever seen in my life. Funny, they were red. Blood red . . . but they'd been cleverly spray-painted black for dramatic affect. Wow. Who was the lucky girl?
'These,' the guy muttered clearly, 'Are for a Susannah Simon? Is she here?'
My face flared up horrible. Oh my God, no . . . How embarrassing. All eyes turned to me. I blushed, and swallowed. 'Uh, yeah . . . '
The guy's eyes fell on me. He dumped the bouquet on my desk. Were these from Jesse? Aw, so SWEET! But . . . it was weird . . . 'Funny situation this was,' the guy went on, 'Some little kid – Jack, I think – came into the florist, scared to death. Told me the name, address of the school, everything. Paid himself. Hands were shaking like a cell phone on "vibrate". He looked like he'd seen a ghost,' he laughed.
'You don't say,' I said, staring in bewilderment at the roses. I could see thorns peaking out from under the black and red cellophane. Each petal of each blossomed bud was blood red, perfect . . . but with a dark shade on it from the speckled back spray-paint. What was all this?
A little kid?
Scared to death?
Seen . . . a ghost?
All the blood that had flown to my cheeks drained all of a sudden.
This wasn't Jesse.
'The kid, he gave me this to deliver with these,' the guy concluded. 'I'll just go now.' He left, whistling "Day that I die" by Good Charlotte. Joy. Everyone was still staring at me. Mr Osbourne looked most offended at the interruption in his class.
My blood turned to ice in my veins as the man thrust a brown envelope at me. With cold fingers, I took it from him. My name was scrawled across the front in neat, sinuous cursive. But not Suze. Not even Susannah. Or EVEN Querida?
"Susie . . . "
As soon as the word reached my gaze, I dreaded what was coming. My hands began to shake. Still, all eyes were on me.
I tore the brown envelope's flap off slowly and deliberately. My heart had stopped, I think. Literally, at a standstill. The paper sounded horrible as it was ripped steadily. I tried swallowing, but that wasn't possible anymore. My through was drier than the desert.
I slid out the paper. It was smooth, and white. I could see the black script from the outside. It looked like calligraphy, or something. He was edging closer and closer to my heart . . .
I opened the letter, and with a screaming warning, my world stopped functioning.
I let out a silent scream, pushed myself away from the flowers on my desk, and ran.
Ran.
Footsteps, loud and fast.
No . . .
No, how could I have been so STUPID!
Oh my God!
He hadn't.
This was a joke. He was messing with my mind.
IT HADN'T HAPPENED!
I screamed again, as I saw a black rose on the floor in the hallway. NO! This wasn't real! He couldn't be gone! WHY HADN'T I NOTICED?!?!
I was caught in a web of horror. A spider's web. A predator. Who went after anything he could get.
All around me, I saw the black roses. Millions. But they weren't spray- painted.
They were all dead.
I couldn't breathe . . .
I hadn't even noticed! I'd been so busy; I'd just . . .
No!
NO!!!!!
The black handwriting had been burnt in my memory. Stark black words on chalk white paper.
...
Daddy's burning.
In hell.
...
**************************************************************************** **********
Paul is edging closer to Suze's heart.
Now review . . .
Candace – Your story rocks, babe.
Luna – you need help . . . This spork thing is worrying me now. **************************************************************************** *******
Jesse's POV.
I didn't know how to feel. Paul Slater had made another attempt on Susannah's life. I . . . I wanted to kill him, but I knew that wasn't an option. I wanted to exorcise him, but even that was out of the question. And this attack on the cat, my God. It was sadistic, heinous. To think, that could have been my Susannah! It was a horrible thought indeed. I was speculating when he could have had the opportunity to do such a thing. I would have thought that there would be no time, yet seemingly, Susannah's and my, er, expressions of love, had been distracting.
But Paul, he'd gone too far . . .
That message, the one printed in the blood of the cat, it was terrifying for Susannah. She reacted very uncharacteristically. It was not like her to break down like she did, be so terrified that she could not move and barely breathe even. It wasn't like her.
How do you know what she's like, Jesse? You've been in Spain all of this time. The time where she needed you most . . .
I stared longingly at my Susannah. She was now asleep, although, I couldn't say she was restful. No, her forehead was creased in anxiety, and she was very tense all over, beneath the thin bed-covers. They draped over her body gently, yet were pulled taunt when she twisted to face me, still grimacing in her dreams. Her hand, it clutched something firmly in her hand, so furiously, her whole hand was shaking.
Oh . . . a glimmer of a smile came to me. It was my Shaman brand. The one that I'd given to her. She had no idea what that meant to me. No idea in the world.
She had no idea what she meant to me, ether. But I place both of those things in entirely different categories.
Not that Susannah is a "thing." Never a mere 'thing."
And who was this "Thaddeus Beaumont" boy? The name was reminiscent to me, like a whispered memory from the past. Beaumont . . . I frowned in my thought. When was that name mentioned? The name Thaddeus, for some reason, wasn't as familiar as the name "Beaumont" was. Where had I heard that name?
It didn't entertain me not to understand some of these things. You could almost call me "obsessive" when I wanted to know answers. It was horrible to be ignorant of something. To not know.
I was sidetracked from my thoughts when I heard Susannah sigh in a distraught manner. In her sleep, but nevertheless. What were these dreams that she was having? Could they have anything to do with Paul?
Oh God. I do realize what is happening. I blame him for everything, don't I?
I groaned to myself, watching Susannah intently. Every twitch of her lips, every movement of her eyes, every curl of her fingertips . . . She was so beautiful. How could innocence like this be real? Beauty so immaculate be possible? The Lord had created this perfect angel. That was why it hurt so much to see her live in this endless fear. This torment that Paul Slater subjected her to.
I had no desire to sleep. Never. Not while there was a chance that he would return to finish the things that he wanted to do. I knew Paul too well. And he knew me even better. It felt so surreal. This boy that I had grown up with, laughed with, been supported by . . . he was a murderer. I knew how he thought, his motives, but I could pinpoint the moment where his whole attitude to the world changed.
Who knew?
The feeling of killing, it had been the worst experience of my life. Pulling the trigger of a weapon that I knew would destroy a life. Take it away. You have no idea what it is like to do this. It . . . it feels like you are taking away something of yourself as well. Your integrity, honour. I felt almost hollow, knowing that I was indeed, a murderer.
Just like him.
But the fact that Susannah had been dragged into this chaotic war of vengeance was the part that killed me the most. Knowing that more was at take than my own life.
So much more.
It was as if, the moment that I had met her, I suddenly had a powerful reason to keep myself alive. Do not misconstrue me, I have no death wish. There has never been a time in my life where I have just wanted to die to stop any pain that I may have been feeling. I have always had the love of my family to live for, the great life ahead of me.
But Susannah, well, it seemed like there would be no real life ahead of me without her in it.
She was my life now.
I was ashamed of myself for the way that this Querida Andres situation had been handled. Susannah, mi Dios, she'd thought that I hadn't loved her! There was not a second that I didn't love her. To think that my imprudence had caused her these qualms, well, it was awful. Although, it has to be said that my Susannah can, at times, ah, jump to conclusions. She had, of course, just assumed the worst from the little that I'd told her. Of course I had no interest in Querida in that way. She was a sweet girl, but she was far to orderly. Undeniably, my family had fallen in love with her neatness, punctuality, perfection, almost, but it was to a point where it was . . . irritating? Susannah . . . wow. She had that free spirit that few people have these days. She cared. Her nature was so beautiful, as was her loyalty. The fact that her eyes, beyond comparison, were the most beautiful, most sparkling green eyes that I'd ever seen in my life, well, that was certainly a plus. And her smile . . . it brightened up the darkest hour. Dios, there are too many magical qualities to list them all. All things about her were flawless. I felt like I was undeserving of such perfection.
Wow. I was deep in this love, wasn't I?
I'd fallen hard.
I sat on her window seat, breathing evenly, staring that her fair face framed angelically by dark waves of hair, when a howl shattered the almost restful silence of my thoughts.
I flinched in shock, as a shower of blue light appeared right beside Susannah's bed. Damn!
Susannah burst up, her eyes wide and scared. I stood up and rushed over to her to let her know that I was here. I knew that this ghost wasn't Paul, this cry had been the cry of a child.
A small boy of eight stood in front of Susannah, bawling to the heavens.
'Spikey's dead! You got him killed! He's gone!' he wailed, balled fists rubbing his eyes furiously. 'Gone! And now I'm back here! You're a YUCKY MEDIATOR!'
Susannah looked at him very sympathetically. Which, knowing her, was something quite extraordinary, considering her track record. Mind you, this boy was only young, so I guess she had compassion for him because of it.
'Tim,' she soothed, and put her hands on his shoulders. He fell, crying, into her open arms. His face was shining with tears, and he was shaking severely. I stood, observing how Susannah was handling his condition.
'Shhhh,' she hushed him. 'Come on, I know it sucks. I'm as scared as you are, dude. But I'm going to make it all better, okay –'
'YOU CAN'T! SPIKE IS DEAD! HE CAN'T COME BACK!'
Susannah sighed. 'I know that, Timmy. Shhhh.' The small boy hiccuped, and sniffed loudly. Susannah ran her hand through his mousy brown hair affectionately.
'But do you know how he died?' he whispered to her.
Susannah nodded glumly. 'Yes.'
Timothy sniffed again. 'It was horrible. He . . . yuck. That's just gross. And sick. Do you know who did it?'
Again, Susannah nodded. 'Yeah. And you know what? That guy who did it, he's going to pay for it.'
'Is he a crazy person?' Timothy asked in a hushed voice.
Both of them were conveniently ignoring my presence.
Susannah smiled slightly, and gave me a sideways glance. 'He's a psycho, all right. And he's going to really be sorry that he ever hurt your cat.'
Timothy's eyes welled up dangerously again, but Susannah gave him a firm hug again. I smiled proudly. She was like a mother. So beautiful. Timothy, he trusted her. Like she would make everything better. I knew how this felt, because of Adrianna. Whenever she held onto me, it was like she trusted me completely with her life. It was one of the best feelings in the world, to be a brother to something so small, and precious.
Timothy was clearly traumatized. I did not understand exactly why. From what I could gather, Spike had been his cat – obviously – and . . . well, that's all I knew.
But it's okay, he answered my question.
'It's just that . . . I was kept back for him, and now he's dead,' he said in a terrified whisper into Susannah's ear. Susannah looked up at me with a tiny smile. 'It's okay,' she replied to him. 'We'll make it better.'
Timothy hugged her tighter. 'Thankyou . . . '
'What is your name?' I asked him.
'Tim,' he said.
'Yes, I know that,' I said kindly, 'Your last name.'
'Oh,' he grimaced. 'Doherty. And don't go with all the jokes. I've heard them all. "Toe-dirty," and . . . and "no-shirty," and –'
'Timothy,' I stopped him, smiling. 'I have no intention to tease you.'
'Good,' he warned with a heavy pout, his eyes still glassy. 'Because I kick real hard, bud.'
~*~
Suze's POV
Jesse took me aside.
'Where's he going to stay, Susannah?' he asked with an anxious frown.
I yawned. Come on, I was TIRED. It was like, almost two. I'd been asleep for the grand total of, I dunno, forty minutes? It had been one of the longest nights of my life. (A/N: Got that right. How many chapters has this night gone on again?) Mum still must have been filming. This sucked. Well, actually, I take that back. I'm sorry. My life had taken a complete turn. Jesse, oh God, he was back, and he was MINE. And that little declaration of undying love had been pretty neat, too. In fact, it put a lot of things in perspective. Who care about Paul? What harm could he do, really? I mean, I didn't think he had the guts to actually hurt my mum, or whatever. And even my step-brothers didn't seem like real targets. And Andy . . . to Paul, that was like, "Andy who?"
But yeah.
I could handle it.
Now that Jesse was back.
I smiled secretively, and brushed my fingers over the Egyptian pendant thingie just to make sure that it was still there. It was comforting beneath my fingers. But back to the present . . . Timmy. What was I going to do? I mean, now that his cat had gone, and he'd been brought back, what was his reason for staying on earth? God, not revenge on Paul, please. That would be weird. Like, Timmy going on a poking spree, all, "Hey, you killed my pussy-cat! Take that, mister!"
Poke, poke.
Then Paul would probably blow him up.
Oh, PLEASE NOT REVENGE.
He's only a KID!
I stopped. He didn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't just wander around aimlessly. He was only what, nine? Nah, I'd made up my mind.
'He's gonna stay here,' I said to Jesse calmly.
He stared at me.
And then snorted.
'What?' I demanded indignantly.
'Susannah, I don't think that you could handle taking care of a child. You are not a mother. If I am right in what I'm thinking, that you are quite fond of him, I must say that it will be a lot harder than you think, to keep him safe from Paul. Keeping him here will only make him a target of Paul. Even worse, Paul will use him to get to you if he knows that you've developed an emotional attachment with the boy. It would be unwise for you to do so, Susannah. I speak in your best interests, but primarily, Timothy's.'
My mouth fell open in outrage. 'I don't have to be a mother to him, Jesse. God, I don't need to change diapers every five seconds. He's just . . . alone now. I'm not letting him go around on his own.' I yawned again in spite of the argument. 'And Paul won't touch him.'
'You do not know that, Susannah.'
'I . . . '
He was right. In fact, everything he'd said had been the truth, basically. But I didn't care. Tim, the poor little guy, his cat was dead, and . . . well, his cat was dead.
'He's staying,' I said firmly, crossing my arms. Timothy was looking at us curiously from the corner of the room, where he sat, practicing making my copies of "Vogue" float.
Fast learner, too.
'Susannah,' Jesse snapped, but at that moment, my magazine was rocketed at his head. 'Ow!' he scowled, and turned to Timmy, who was grinning broadly.
'Sorry,' the kid shrugged. But of course he didn't mean it.
I giggled, and ran my hand over where the flying publication had attacked Jesse. His eyebrows rose up curiously, but I pulled him into a gentle, warm kiss. We stood there, intimately, just lightly kissing, when a copy of "Dolly" slid in between mine and Jesse's face, blocking him from my view. It took me about three seconds to realize that I was actually kissing a picture of Orlando Bloom, and not Jesse.
'You're gross,' Timothy commented from the corner.
I spun around, miffed. 'Oi, that was mean.'
He beamed at me, showing a missing tooth in his bottom row. Oh, he was just so cute.
Puppy cute, mind. Jesse, he was cute in an entirely different way.
I grabbed the magazine and tossed it on my bed. Jesse looked annoyed too, with me though.
Probably because I was "so" stubborn.
'Okay, Tim,' I turned to him, sighing. 'Here's the deal. You're allowed to stay here, okay?'
He brightened considerably. 'Really?' he squeaked. But then, his smile froze slightly. 'Hang on . . . ' he said slowly. 'You guys won't be snogging all the time, right?'
I blushed, and Jesse gave me a smug smile. Like, "get used to it. He's going to piss you off no end."
Well, I could take Paul. Tim would be child's play.
Literally.
'No, we won't,' I said. 'Definitely not.'
He relaxed. 'I'm glad. Because you could hear the smoochy noises.'
I rolled my eyes, but smiled knowingly. Why did the little guy have to be so sweet?
~*~
'Suze, what are you doing at school? You should be resting.'
CeeCee had run up the hall as I was walking to Calculus. My head was pounding dully, much to my chagrin, and I still felt a little fragile. Not how I liked to be, trust me. Fragile is NOT a good thing.
I shrugged at her. 'I'm fine. It was just a little scratch.'
But from the look CeeCee was giving me, she was dubious. Hell, she looked doubtful in a SCARED way. Whah?
I blinked at her. 'Uh, CeeCee? Did I lose you?'
CeeCee stared at me, her forehead creasing ever more. I was taken aback. Huh? Did she . . . Nah.
Hang on . . .
*Flashback*
'Is cause for blood loss identified?'
'No . . . she has no marks upon her body except her neck, but the wound is too small for her to have lost so much. Her friend wasn't giving any details, either.'
. . . F-f-friend?
*End*
I went dead still. 'CeeCee, was it . . . was it you who found me the other day? When, you know, I was unconscious?'
CeeCee's eyes darted away. 'Maybe.'
Frustrated, I groaned. 'Cee . . . was . . . Paul still there? That guy? The one who asked you about me and Jesse last month? Was he – '
'So what if he was?' she yelped, turning away.
Oh, God.
'Did he say anything . . . weird?' I asked. If he said anything about Tad, by God, I would – well, let's just say he and Spike would have a lot in common.
CeeCee crossed her arms. 'Maybe.'
Oh.
My.
God.
A bubbling rage simmered within me. I slammed my locker shut, forgetting about class and everything, and marched straight up the hall.
'Suze! Wait!' CeeCee ran up to me. I kept on walking. I was going to KILL HIM! Well – shit! It was times like this I regretted that he was a ghost. It meant I couldn't rip his head off and make the damage permanent.
SCREW PAUL!!!!
'Suze, look. What he said, I can't remember,' CeeCee giggled unpersuasively. 'Really. I'm sure –'
'What did he say?' I demanded heatedly, as people parted to let me pass.
'He . . . well, he was going on about – look, he's crazy, who cares what –'
'Tell me!'
'Vampires!' she snapped. 'It's stupid. Vampires and demons. As if –'
Huh? Demons?
DEMONS?! On top of everything ELSE?!?!
I groaned in aggravation, disrupting everyone in the hall. They stared momentarily, sniggered slightly, but continued chatting. I still kept marching on to Father Dom's office. Something HAD to be done!
'Suze, come on. It's not true, right?' she asked. 'He's a nut case, isn't he?'
I stopped walking, so that my hair swished forward and whipped my face. Oh God. This was what I wanted to avoid all my life. Questions. CeeCee couldn't believe everything she heard from Paul. She didn't want to. And now she wanted to make sure from me that it WAS all bull. She was on the verge of insanity here. I knew what she wanted to here, but I couldn't just lie, right?
I mean, VAMPIRES. And . . . DEMONS? What the hell?!
'Yeah, Cee,' I said dryly, 'He's a nut. Forget what he said. He was on his ghostly crack.'
CeeCee pursed her lips. 'Simon, stop it.'
I shook my head, and kept walking. Paul, he was going to tell my friends everything. No, I wouldn't let him. I fought me own battles – with occasional exceptions of a Mr J. De Silva – and Adam and CeeCee weren't to know everything about me like they. The way they'd both found out had been accidental. But Paul . . . now I knew. He was going to expose everything.
Oh, shit!
I HAD to find a way to exorcise him! I didn't care what Jesse said. There had to be a way, some way to make him leave. He couldn't just make me live like this, in fear that everything I loved and knew, would just crumble around me. My secrets revealed . . .
NO.
'Oi, the nerd wants his essay back.'
Dopey's voice stopped me in my tracks. I ran round to the other side of the lockers, and saw that Dopey and Scott and a throng of other jocks were jeering at this scrawny little ninth grader, who was trying to grab a paper from Dopey's beefy hand. He jumped high, but Dopey, being freakishly tall, held it out of his reach.
My already boiling blood hit the temp of no return.
I burst into the mob of stupid guys, and kicked Dopey in the back of the kneecaps. He grunted in shock as he fell forward, the paper fluttering out of his hands. The kid caught it, and he shot me a grateful but terrified look, and scarpered. Dopey scrambled up, furious.
I glared at him, as his mates went all with the mockery. To my darling step- brother, I hissed, 'If I catch you doing that again, I'm going straight to Father Dom.'
He looked at me as if I was a nut. 'I'm SO scared, Suze. Really.'
'Yeah?' I said. 'Well, as your Vice President, Brad, I have a very powerful voice. Combine said voice with the principal's of this quaint little school, we can have you kicked of the wrestling team like that,' I snapped my fingers.
Dopey's eyes widened. 'No way,' he retorted in panic, 'You're bullshitting.'
'Wanna take me up on that?' I snarled. His brows practically met, he was so angry.
'You're a bitch,' he growled, walking past and shoving me in the shoulder. Scott threw me an ugly look. I smiled cheerfully at him, waggling my fingers.
Well, that served to be quite a good de-stresser.
Should kick his butt more often.
I sighed, and dragged my hand through my hair. CeeCee had gone to class by then. I was late. Most people were out of the hall, but Dopey's gang were typically taking their sweet time. I ran back to my locker, grabbed my books, and ran to Calculus. I mean, I could have just bummed it off and spent a period gibbering to Father Dom about Paul's threats, but that wouldn't suit at all. He'd get worried, and he'd probably tell me to do something drastic, and really, I didn't know what I wanted to do about the whole thing.
You know what the worst bit was?
If you asked me to exorcise him, right here and now . . .
I'd probably say no.
~*~
I was sitting in calculus, feeling very guilty. Mr Osbourne was drawling on about like terms and shit, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy thinking about the wretched thing that I was.
What was going ON with me?
I stared at my textbook, but not seeing it, you know? Staring past it. I could feel that Egyptian pendant around my bitten neck. Those two things seemed to clash, for some reason. A vampire bite and a symbol of love. They weren't opposite things, but I dunno . . . The vampire bite was like . . .hunger, wasn't it? Craving for blood? Desire, just like lust?
Love and lust. Everything in my life boiled down to those two things. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Light and darkness . . .
Jesse and Paul.
Mr Osbourne's monotonous brogue almost put me right to sleep, in a total non-lullaby way, but then there was a knock at the door. I was jerked out of my somnolent state, and my eyes snapped to the door. Rolling his eyes, portly Mr Osbourne grumbled. 'Come in . . . '
I blinked in wonder as a tall but squalid looking guy stumbled in, clutching the biggest bouquet of roses I'd ever seen in my life. Funny, they were red. Blood red . . . but they'd been cleverly spray-painted black for dramatic affect. Wow. Who was the lucky girl?
'These,' the guy muttered clearly, 'Are for a Susannah Simon? Is she here?'
My face flared up horrible. Oh my God, no . . . How embarrassing. All eyes turned to me. I blushed, and swallowed. 'Uh, yeah . . . '
The guy's eyes fell on me. He dumped the bouquet on my desk. Were these from Jesse? Aw, so SWEET! But . . . it was weird . . . 'Funny situation this was,' the guy went on, 'Some little kid – Jack, I think – came into the florist, scared to death. Told me the name, address of the school, everything. Paid himself. Hands were shaking like a cell phone on "vibrate". He looked like he'd seen a ghost,' he laughed.
'You don't say,' I said, staring in bewilderment at the roses. I could see thorns peaking out from under the black and red cellophane. Each petal of each blossomed bud was blood red, perfect . . . but with a dark shade on it from the speckled back spray-paint. What was all this?
A little kid?
Scared to death?
Seen . . . a ghost?
All the blood that had flown to my cheeks drained all of a sudden.
This wasn't Jesse.
'The kid, he gave me this to deliver with these,' the guy concluded. 'I'll just go now.' He left, whistling "Day that I die" by Good Charlotte. Joy. Everyone was still staring at me. Mr Osbourne looked most offended at the interruption in his class.
My blood turned to ice in my veins as the man thrust a brown envelope at me. With cold fingers, I took it from him. My name was scrawled across the front in neat, sinuous cursive. But not Suze. Not even Susannah. Or EVEN Querida?
"Susie . . . "
As soon as the word reached my gaze, I dreaded what was coming. My hands began to shake. Still, all eyes were on me.
I tore the brown envelope's flap off slowly and deliberately. My heart had stopped, I think. Literally, at a standstill. The paper sounded horrible as it was ripped steadily. I tried swallowing, but that wasn't possible anymore. My through was drier than the desert.
I slid out the paper. It was smooth, and white. I could see the black script from the outside. It looked like calligraphy, or something. He was edging closer and closer to my heart . . .
I opened the letter, and with a screaming warning, my world stopped functioning.
I let out a silent scream, pushed myself away from the flowers on my desk, and ran.
Ran.
Footsteps, loud and fast.
No . . .
No, how could I have been so STUPID!
Oh my God!
He hadn't.
This was a joke. He was messing with my mind.
IT HADN'T HAPPENED!
I screamed again, as I saw a black rose on the floor in the hallway. NO! This wasn't real! He couldn't be gone! WHY HADN'T I NOTICED?!?!
I was caught in a web of horror. A spider's web. A predator. Who went after anything he could get.
All around me, I saw the black roses. Millions. But they weren't spray- painted.
They were all dead.
I couldn't breathe . . .
I hadn't even noticed! I'd been so busy; I'd just . . .
No!
NO!!!!!
The black handwriting had been burnt in my memory. Stark black words on chalk white paper.
...
Daddy's burning.
In hell.
...
**************************************************************************** **********
Paul is edging closer to Suze's heart.
Now review . . .