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I ran.
Ran, ran, ran . . .
Trying – to hide . . . from everything. From the roses. They were everywhere! Wilting, withering, dead, decaying . . . all around me!
They – they were everywhere!
Thorns, black falling petals . . . millions of them, no . . .
DAD!
I ran faster and faster. My heart was threatening to break my chest. My head was whirling so fast, the blood pumping so frigging hard! My breath was painful and quick . . . but it was getting harder to gulp down the air . . .
I ran, ran . . . I fell against the wall, my clammy palms flat against the plaster. I gasped for breath. I jammed my eyes closed, escaping.
He's messing, Suze . . . Dad, he's fine. So he hasn't dropped in for a while . . . that is perfectly normal, right? He's been distracted with the new tenants in New York. Ha, yeah, of course! Calm down, Suze.
But how would he know about Dad? How could he?
. . . HOW?!
Oh my God!
I started trembling so violently. I opened my eyes with a strangled gasp. My knees, they gave way, and I fell down against the wall, hands covering my mouth.
Dad. He usually turned up at the worst times.
Just to annoy me.
That's why he was still hanging around.
To annoy me.
Yeah . . . Annoy me.
He – he was always there . . . even when he didn't come when I called him, he had always been there! Around, still here! Existing.
And I hadn't noticed that he was gone . . .
Black. Black everywhere. Roses, petals, stems –
Thorns, that pricked.
Even the most tempting rose has thorns.
Oh, what had I DONE?!
'Dad!' I yelled. My voice echoed uselessly in the empty corridor. It seemed too loud, but too quiet at the same time. Like no matter how hard I screamed, he wouldn't come . . .
He never did, but this time, I knew . . .
I could feel it. In my shivering body, in my choked up throat –
In my chilled heart.
Dad . . . he was gone.
'No,' I whispered oh so quietly, my hands shaking against my chin. 'No, no, no . . . '
'Yes.'
My head flew up, and around. No, don't be here!
But the corridor was empty.
Thank God for –
Suddenly, an ocean of the roses came flooding from nowhere! I yelled, and bolted out the front gate of the school, running for my life. Literally. I kept going, running as fast as I could possibly, humanly go. Everything flashed past me, dewy grass, foggy roads, overcast skies, colourless flowers.
Flashes. Never a whole picture.
My hair was slicing my face like a whip. I had to get away from them all! The roses, the blackness, the deadness . . .
Death.
He'd sent them.
The roses, I mean. It was . . . it was sick. Grotesque, just like the attack on Spike . . .
And I knew it wasn't going to stop. Not until he broke me.
I'm pretty resilient, but there's only so much a girl can take!
I was still running. Would I ever be far enough away? And what was I running from? Illusions? Were they even real? Or was it just a vile mirage?
WAS IT JUST A DREAM THAT DAD WAS GONE? WAS I DREAMING?!
Please, let me be dreaming! PLEASE!
I had run as far as the cemetery. I climbed swiftly over the gate, landing on my feet with a little less coordination than usual. I felt so dizzy . . . like none of this was really happening. God, please, don't let any of this really be happening.
I ran past all the graves, quickly and silently. Was Paul's grave in this cemetery? So I could spit on it? Or was he buried in Seattle? The dirt I was running over was unturned, muddy and gritty. The damp sand – now grimy mud – was tarnishing my once white shoes. Spoiling them.
My breath was still shallow and quick.
Why wasn't Dad's grave here? Why did we have to cremate him? Why could he have a grave like everyone else, so everyone knew that I had a father who loved me? Why did he have to get stuck on some crummy plaque back in the New York Burial Ground? WHY? Why wasn't he here with me?!
Again, I halted sharply, leaning heavily on a large, rectangular marble headstone. It was cold beneath my fingers. Hell, everything was cold. A frosty wind swathed me chillingly. I shut my eyes again. I was shaking like hell.
How could he do this? How could he affect me like this? Was it just the things he did and said? Or did he have some power over me that I didn't know of? Oh, God, it hurt . . . The fear, I mean. Knowing that in the end, nothing could be done. That in the end, he would win . . . that he'd kill me.
I looked around hesitantly, cold air filtering through my nose and drying my oesophagus completely. I felt like there was a blockage in my sinuses, but it could have just been due to the heavy fog that was now upon me, and the whole cemetery.
So like the Shadowland . . .
Stop it, Suze! God!
I looked down on top of the marble grave, and screamed.
Another black, dead rose . . .
'Stop it!' I screamed shrilly, holding my head in despair, 'Stop chasing me!'
I stumbled away, and my eyes fell on a mausoleum near the center of the graveyard. It was the biggest in the graveyard, but it had a DOOR. That was all I cared about. I'd hide in there . . . No one would find me . . . yeah, good plan, Suze. Good.
I dodged all the graves, and accidentally stood on a few in my urgency. The mausoleum loomed closer and closer with each stride. Air was so shallow in my lungs now, it hurt to breathe. The coldness of the fog was taking its toll. And my heart was beating faster than my head was pounding, which was really saying something, because GOD was my head dancing rapidly.
But finally, I barged at the door of the mausoleum, and it broke open. Well, it kind of wasn't even closed, so I didn't break it, actually. God, Father Dom would have my head on a platter if I did . . .
Inside, I fell to my hands and knees on the dusty ground, panting. Everything in the crypt . . . whoa. It was very metallic; there were four metal pillars all around the area and the walls seemed to be coated with sheets of metal also. I didn't know why. Yet, the stone grave itself, above ground, was stone.
Heavy stone.
Very carefully, I stood up, brushing my capris off anxiously. It was considerably warmer in here, but a lot stuffier. The air was thick and dusty. Everything seemed grey in here, with a tint of beige everywhere, somehow. No light got in here, except for the narrow bar that stretched across the floor, from the open door. With a squeak, I jumped over and slammed it shut, shoving the padlock in very heavily, and then turning the little knob to shut it. Why'd they have to make locks so complex these days? Honestly.
'Ha,' I said smugly, turning back around slowly, 'Let's see you get through that, P –'
'Wasn't that hard.'
I screamed blue murder. Dark, leather-clad Paul stood RIGHT over me, leering down at me. I backed right up against the door, and furiously rattled the bolt of the lock, but it did not come undone magically. All of a sudden, I felt extremely vulnerable.
'No,' I whimpered. Paul, he just stared, his eyes dark, and his smile even darker . . .
I shrank back. No . . . this wasn't FAIR!
'What did you do to my Dad?' I stuttered, my tone quavering.
He bowed his head, but still leered at me with a malicious thin-lipped smile.
A muscle in my neck was having a spaz attack. 'What did you DO?' I repeated, my voice stronger, and angrier.
He wasn't even blinking. Just grinning . . . like that.
I swallowed hard. 'Answer me, or –'
In a brusque movement, he shoved me against the wall, each of my wrists in his hands. He jammed them both beside my head. 'Aaah, Suze . . .'
I let out a very embarrassing little moan. He tickled my neck with his ghostly breath. He didn't deserve breath. Oxygen was for the living. He wasn't converting it into carbon dioxide like the rest of us, but that wasn't the point. He'd lived his time, he couldn't keep acting like he was still alive. He didn't deserve to.
I turned my head sharply to the left. Images flashed through my head . . . Spike axed to the wall . . . Bloody messages . . . Black calligraphy . . . Roses . . .
Roses everywhere.
Paul was a lunatic. He was past insanity. A heartless, sick, twisted killer.
He gently released one of my hands, and trailed a finger down a muscle in my neck, you know that one that appears when you turn your neck? Yeah, that one. He left an icy burning sensation along my skin. It was horrible.
'Get – off me,' I snarled through gritted teeth. His ghostly form – that was pinning me against the mausoleum door – was far too warm to be plausible. Why? Ghosts were supposed to be all spine-tingles and chills. Why did he feel so warm against me like that?
'Come on, Suze, aren't you having fun?' he said, his voice saturated with callous humour. And with that, he seized me around the waist and – literally – flipped me over his head, slamming me on the lid of the elevated grave in the center of the crypt. I cried out, but he climbed over me, and clamped a hand firmly over my mouth. I tried to get up, but it was too hard. He was now on his knees, sitting over my lower waist. He wasn't just keeping me still with his weight, but with . . . with something else, as well. Something that was painfully new to me.
I couldn't speak.
'Okay, I get it,' he smiled down at me, his lips crooked, 'You're obviously not enjoying all of this as much as I am. Pity, it's so much fun,' he leaned down towards my face, so he was right above me. '. . . torturing you.'
His fingers were hurting my jaw. I shut my eyes, and scowled horridly – and silently. There was only a very small space between the top of his index finger and my nostrils, for me to get air.
I wasn't getting enough.
WHY COULDN'T I MOVE?
'Look at me,' he said softly.
I squinted my eyelids closed even more.
His hand crushed my jaw – I squirmed around in urgency. I still could not verbally protest . . . I could barely move.
I flicked my head around, and my eyes snapped open. I glared up at him, my eyebrow twitching in hatred and dread. Dusty air entered my lungs in brief amounts, and my throat was getting very raw.
'Suze, Suze, Suze,' he chided teasingly. 'Don't look at me like that, it's not going to get you anywhere.' But I could see the brutality stirring behind his eyes. This was the little mercy he was displaying me. I doubted it would last long . . .
With his hand, he squeezed my lips so that they resembled a fish's. It was disgusting. I could hear the wet noises of my mouth's movement.
'Let me speak,' came my distorted request.
Paul inclined his head in mirth, his eyes glinting evilly. 'Oh yeah, where are my manners?' He jammed his hands on my shoulders, and ran them slowly down my arms until they reached my elbows. He held them in a secure, tight grip.
'Talk then, Susie. What do you have to say?' he said subtly, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. The air was so thick . . . and hot . . .
Yet again, I swallowed. 'You, Paul, are a sadist.'
He laughed at that one. 'Oh, you noticed. Yeah, I'm working at it.'
I writhed awkwardly. 'What you did to the cat . . . that was sickening.'
'Mmm, I thought you'd like that one,' he breathed at me. I shook my head at him. 'Like it? Oh, cat blood totally fits in with my decor, Paul, really. No, it was disgusting, and was further proof that you deserve to be dead –'
SLAP.
His eyes had lost the toying glint. They were lethal again.
'Don't you DARE stay that,' he spat at me, his raised hand shaking threateningly. 'You have no damned idea about anything, so just shut the hell up!'
I wisely ingested my retort.
'Where's my dad?' I demanded.
A hard smile crossed his lips. 'I wasn't lying, Suze,' he said to me, 'He's where I said. In hell. Or the nearest equivalent. It helps to have a little brother that you can boss around, you know. Well, scare to death, more likely.'
I just stared at him. This guy, oh my God. He had nothing there. No compassion, no love, no humanity at all! It was revolting. And my dad.
He was really gone.
I almost cried, but I didn't . . .
Then, with a coil of his hand, and this weird swirl of red light, a black rose materialized into his hand. My breath was cut short. 'Stop it,' I said, scared.
His grin broadened. His hand slid over one of mine, and picked it up. He opened my palm, much to my resistance, but I couldn't hold him off without him breaking my fingers. Then, he pushed the rose's stem into my hand, and closed it tightly with his own.
I felt the many thorns pierce my skin. I smothered a gasp of pain, and bit down hard on my tongue. Ow . . .
Paul relaxed his hand, and the rose fell from mine, the petals falling off and withering on the spot. He showed me my hand. There were many little punctured in my skin, where little dribbles of thick red liquid trailed out. This . . . ew, it was even more macabre. 'Look, Shifter blood,' he said. 'But yours has been diluted, Suze. From your blood transfusion. You have other blood in you now. Your power is there still, no doubt, but not your purity.' He held my injured hand to his mouth, and kissed it. Ew!
'Mmm,' he smiled, 'I should have been a vampire, you know . . .'
My nose flared furiously. 'You are going to get a big kick up the ass someday. You're not going to see it coming,' I sneered at him quietly.
He glared, but then chuckled darkly, laying my hand on my chest. 'You're probably right,' he ran a finger down my cheek, to which I flinched, 'But in the meantime? I'll have my fun with you . . . '
My eyes widened. Huh? What was that? What did that mean? What the HELL was THAT supposed to mean?
Both his hands came to either side of my face. But they were gentle. There was a very unique softness in his touch. Even his pissed off facial expression had diminished ever so slightly. Again, I started shaking. I hate shaking. It's almost as bad as crying. It shows that you're scared. Or cold. But mainly scared.
His lips parted a tiny bit, and his eyes became very . . . sensuous. Whoa, back off poochie . . .
'Damn,' he muttered, shaking his head vaguely. 'Why'd they have to make you so beautiful?'
Say WHAHH?
Okay, that was kind of when I was most freaked. Now he was REALLY of his nutter. This obviously declared him incurably, criminally insane. So, with as much brawn as I could muster, I pushed him up by his stomach with my hands, and then kicked my feet under there too, cannoning him over me, to the ground. He landed with a land thud, but it was only audible to me – well, I presumed. But the time it took for him to scramble up was the time it took for me to be on my feet, in my most intimidating fighting stance.
When he was up, he stared at me curiously. Then he sniggered. 'Suze . . . you're not going to try fighting me again, right? I mean, come on . . . you know that you're going to lose.'
'I'll take my chances,' I shouted down to him, brushing my loose hair back behind my ears.
He lunged at my feet – remember? I was standing on top of that grave thingy – but I jumped, and totally kicked him in the fact. He growled, and stumbled back. I did a classic twisty back flip, right onto his shoulders. He crumbled down again. I kicked him violently in the stomach as he was laying on his side.
'This is for Spike – and I didn't even like the cat!' I wheezed, kicking harder and harder, 'This is for Timothy – and this . . . this is for DAD –'
On the word "Dad," he rolled on his back, and did this very interesting move like a backwards spin top, which resulted in him standing on his feet. It was pretty cool, but I guess I had marveled at it too long, because he elbowed me into the wall. I smashed against the metal, but rebounded, and charged myself into him. He emitted an "oomph!" and fell sideways, over the grave. I punched him in the chest – ow! I just felt my wrist crack! – but I doubt it did much. Then I punched him from under his nose, breaking it sufficiently.
Well, for a ghost.
'SHIT!' he roared, his hands flinging to his nose. 'Ow . . . oh, shit, Suze! What the – '
He kind of shut up when I repeated the offense, only under his jaw. He grunted, and to my chagrin, I saw his nose snap back into place. Already? Damn!
I lunged at him, but he was ready for me this time. As my fist was about to collide with his head, he caught it in the cup of his hand, threw it away, and seized me by the shoulders, leaning me back against the grave. I let out a low groan, and shoved him back, but he succeeded to kick me in the side. God, he was so fast! Why couldn't I have dexterity like that? WHY? Did I pass that queue when they were handing out shifter skills? No, I had to get double sanity, though.
'I wish that Jesse didn't kill you,' I sneered at him, as he punched and I blocked.
'And why is that?'
'So I could kill you myself,' I shouted, as my kick's aim was true; my foot hit him square on the chest and he slipped back. 'Ha,' I mocked, but my celebration was too soon. Now he was getting pissed.
'You know, you're such an idiot, Suze,' he growled, swiping at my head.
I ducked. 'Nah, my teachers beat you to telling me that,' I replied, kneeing him in the – ironic, huh? – knee.
He staggered, but recovered instantaneously. 'No, really. All this wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me, so long ago. I offered you the world, Suze, and –'
'The world is not enough,' I said dryly, 'In a non 007 way, I mean.'
He laughed darkly. 'You have no idea what a mistake you made when you refused my offer. There is so much that you could do. Stuff that Jesse has no idea about. He's just another shifter, but I can see that you'd go so – '
'Duck.'
'Where – AH!' he yelled, as I pummeled him in the face. It was pretty funny.
I laughed for a second. 'Paul, you're sad. You are. I don't think I've met anyone who's even half of the loser that you are. You're a sick little boy who's playing a game that he's gonna lose, because he cheats and lies and doesn't have any team mates.' I placed my hands on my hips casually. 'Sorry, Paul, but you're low. Real low. Beneath me. Six feet beneath, to be exact,' I added nastily.
He countered this little comment with a severe whack to my head. I went spinning into one of the pillars, and subsided to the floor. He stormed over in a dark rage, seized me my the neck and slammed me against the pillar, my feet dangling several inches over the ground. I spluttered – he was strangling me, and I couldn't, for a second, breathe.
'P-kch–Paul–agh–don't– ' I choked out barely, kicking my feet uselessly, my hands were slapping his, but he wouldn't let go. His eyes were flashing in fury.
Seriously, now THIS was scary, if everything before hadn't been. Everything was forgotten, just the realization that – once again – he had the ability to kill me, that very second.
Not cool!
I still tried struggling, but his hand became tighter, his face became angrier, and his arm became tenser. He was shaking, he was trying to hard.
My eyes were just about rolling back up in head point, when he just dropped me.
I fell to the ground in a heap, coughing energetically.
Paul was staring at me coldly. 'I want to kill you now,' he growled, his eyes so murderous it cut, 'But I can wait . . . just a few more days . . . and everything will be different.'
I massaged my neck, my mouth open wide as I gulped down oxygen – that I had lacked hitherto.
'I'll wait for the right . . . ' his sentence faded, 'What the hell is that?'
I glared, 'what?'
'That . . . ' he stared at my neck. Oh God, this wasn't about the "hickey thing" was it? That was OLD. I mean, come –
Paul snatched at something around his own neck. It was . . .
Holy crap.
'Where'd you get that?' I breathed.
'Same place as Jesse got his, if that is even his,' he snapped. In his hand, he clutched a glinting silver rendition of the Egyptian shifter pendant.
. . . Paul had one of those Shifter necklaces? What did that mean? Jesse said that he got it from his mentor guy. Did that mean that he learnt all the evil things that Paul knew? That Jesse was capable of what Paul could do, as well?
Oh, God . . . Could this get any more complicated?
Actually, don't answer that. I realized I just jinxed the whole thing.
'I'm gonna kill you soon, Suze,' he said hauntingly to me. 'Soon . . . And no Daddy to help you anymore.'
Oh God . . . Memories hit hard at home. Dad . . . The famous Peter Simon. He was gone.
'Get out,' I breathed.
Paul smiled at me. 'Oh, I intend to get out, Suze. I also intend to kill you. You're gonna be mine, love. But like I said, there's a time and a place for everything. Your murder will come then, and this will come NOW.'
He was so fast, I didn't see him coming. Simply with his hand, he gave the lid of the raised coffin an almighty shove, and it went sliding across the room with an almighty crash. I jumped, and while I was still shocked, he lunged over, seized me around the waist, and threw me INTO THE GRAVE.
I screamed blue murder as I landed on something very hard, but it crumbled beneath me.
'Paul! God, don't!' I yelled and tried to get out, but he held me down, grinning like a madman. He was so – so strong! 'LET ME GO!' I screamed at him, thrashing. His hands held my shoulders tightly. His eyes flashed dangerously, with dark pleasure.
'Oooh, this looks cosy,' he remarked with a spine-chilling laugh. 'Let's see if our little friend brings out the necrophiliac in you, Suze?'
'NOOOO! DON'T! LET GO OF –'
He complied rather quickly. Only, the face that he only did so to seize the cover of the coffin, well, that lost him brownie points.
'Be seeing you,' he smirked, blowing me a sardonic kiss.
And he slammed the lid down.
Light was cut off from my vision.
I lay, panting. No . . . this wasn't happening. But, it was. I was trapped in a grave, in a mausoleum that nobody ever visited! Oh God, I could be stuck here for ever! Panting, quicker and faster . . . how long would the oxygen last?! Oh no, God, please, don't let me be BURIED ALIVE!
'Help!' I howled, shouting vulgar profanities to Paul. My voice was horribly loud, and close, and confined. Everything was hot, and stank terribly . . . 'HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE!'
It was no use . . . but I couldn't give up! I NEVER gave up! I pounded on the roof of the coffin desperately, my gasping sharply. It hurt to breathe now, like this air was impure. Oh God, I was going to die – in a grave, with . . .
My voice was terminated as my hand strayed a little to the left . . . it was . . .
EW!!!
LEMME OUTA HERE, GOD DAMN IT! NO, NOT A *SKELETON!!!!*
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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My attempt to thank you wonderful gorgeous people. Please review? Everyone means a lot to me, and I want to hear what you think of this.
Climax is coming soon . . . about 2 or 3 chapters away. Get ready, gonna be big. Oh, and the identity of this "demon" will be revealed.
Cheers!
MystAngel.
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I ran.
Ran, ran, ran . . .
Trying – to hide . . . from everything. From the roses. They were everywhere! Wilting, withering, dead, decaying . . . all around me!
They – they were everywhere!
Thorns, black falling petals . . . millions of them, no . . .
DAD!
I ran faster and faster. My heart was threatening to break my chest. My head was whirling so fast, the blood pumping so frigging hard! My breath was painful and quick . . . but it was getting harder to gulp down the air . . .
I ran, ran . . . I fell against the wall, my clammy palms flat against the plaster. I gasped for breath. I jammed my eyes closed, escaping.
He's messing, Suze . . . Dad, he's fine. So he hasn't dropped in for a while . . . that is perfectly normal, right? He's been distracted with the new tenants in New York. Ha, yeah, of course! Calm down, Suze.
But how would he know about Dad? How could he?
. . . HOW?!
Oh my God!
I started trembling so violently. I opened my eyes with a strangled gasp. My knees, they gave way, and I fell down against the wall, hands covering my mouth.
Dad. He usually turned up at the worst times.
Just to annoy me.
That's why he was still hanging around.
To annoy me.
Yeah . . . Annoy me.
He – he was always there . . . even when he didn't come when I called him, he had always been there! Around, still here! Existing.
And I hadn't noticed that he was gone . . .
Black. Black everywhere. Roses, petals, stems –
Thorns, that pricked.
Even the most tempting rose has thorns.
Oh, what had I DONE?!
'Dad!' I yelled. My voice echoed uselessly in the empty corridor. It seemed too loud, but too quiet at the same time. Like no matter how hard I screamed, he wouldn't come . . .
He never did, but this time, I knew . . .
I could feel it. In my shivering body, in my choked up throat –
In my chilled heart.
Dad . . . he was gone.
'No,' I whispered oh so quietly, my hands shaking against my chin. 'No, no, no . . . '
'Yes.'
My head flew up, and around. No, don't be here!
But the corridor was empty.
Thank God for –
Suddenly, an ocean of the roses came flooding from nowhere! I yelled, and bolted out the front gate of the school, running for my life. Literally. I kept going, running as fast as I could possibly, humanly go. Everything flashed past me, dewy grass, foggy roads, overcast skies, colourless flowers.
Flashes. Never a whole picture.
My hair was slicing my face like a whip. I had to get away from them all! The roses, the blackness, the deadness . . .
Death.
He'd sent them.
The roses, I mean. It was . . . it was sick. Grotesque, just like the attack on Spike . . .
And I knew it wasn't going to stop. Not until he broke me.
I'm pretty resilient, but there's only so much a girl can take!
I was still running. Would I ever be far enough away? And what was I running from? Illusions? Were they even real? Or was it just a vile mirage?
WAS IT JUST A DREAM THAT DAD WAS GONE? WAS I DREAMING?!
Please, let me be dreaming! PLEASE!
I had run as far as the cemetery. I climbed swiftly over the gate, landing on my feet with a little less coordination than usual. I felt so dizzy . . . like none of this was really happening. God, please, don't let any of this really be happening.
I ran past all the graves, quickly and silently. Was Paul's grave in this cemetery? So I could spit on it? Or was he buried in Seattle? The dirt I was running over was unturned, muddy and gritty. The damp sand – now grimy mud – was tarnishing my once white shoes. Spoiling them.
My breath was still shallow and quick.
Why wasn't Dad's grave here? Why did we have to cremate him? Why could he have a grave like everyone else, so everyone knew that I had a father who loved me? Why did he have to get stuck on some crummy plaque back in the New York Burial Ground? WHY? Why wasn't he here with me?!
Again, I halted sharply, leaning heavily on a large, rectangular marble headstone. It was cold beneath my fingers. Hell, everything was cold. A frosty wind swathed me chillingly. I shut my eyes again. I was shaking like hell.
How could he do this? How could he affect me like this? Was it just the things he did and said? Or did he have some power over me that I didn't know of? Oh, God, it hurt . . . The fear, I mean. Knowing that in the end, nothing could be done. That in the end, he would win . . . that he'd kill me.
I looked around hesitantly, cold air filtering through my nose and drying my oesophagus completely. I felt like there was a blockage in my sinuses, but it could have just been due to the heavy fog that was now upon me, and the whole cemetery.
So like the Shadowland . . .
Stop it, Suze! God!
I looked down on top of the marble grave, and screamed.
Another black, dead rose . . .
'Stop it!' I screamed shrilly, holding my head in despair, 'Stop chasing me!'
I stumbled away, and my eyes fell on a mausoleum near the center of the graveyard. It was the biggest in the graveyard, but it had a DOOR. That was all I cared about. I'd hide in there . . . No one would find me . . . yeah, good plan, Suze. Good.
I dodged all the graves, and accidentally stood on a few in my urgency. The mausoleum loomed closer and closer with each stride. Air was so shallow in my lungs now, it hurt to breathe. The coldness of the fog was taking its toll. And my heart was beating faster than my head was pounding, which was really saying something, because GOD was my head dancing rapidly.
But finally, I barged at the door of the mausoleum, and it broke open. Well, it kind of wasn't even closed, so I didn't break it, actually. God, Father Dom would have my head on a platter if I did . . .
Inside, I fell to my hands and knees on the dusty ground, panting. Everything in the crypt . . . whoa. It was very metallic; there were four metal pillars all around the area and the walls seemed to be coated with sheets of metal also. I didn't know why. Yet, the stone grave itself, above ground, was stone.
Heavy stone.
Very carefully, I stood up, brushing my capris off anxiously. It was considerably warmer in here, but a lot stuffier. The air was thick and dusty. Everything seemed grey in here, with a tint of beige everywhere, somehow. No light got in here, except for the narrow bar that stretched across the floor, from the open door. With a squeak, I jumped over and slammed it shut, shoving the padlock in very heavily, and then turning the little knob to shut it. Why'd they have to make locks so complex these days? Honestly.
'Ha,' I said smugly, turning back around slowly, 'Let's see you get through that, P –'
'Wasn't that hard.'
I screamed blue murder. Dark, leather-clad Paul stood RIGHT over me, leering down at me. I backed right up against the door, and furiously rattled the bolt of the lock, but it did not come undone magically. All of a sudden, I felt extremely vulnerable.
'No,' I whimpered. Paul, he just stared, his eyes dark, and his smile even darker . . .
I shrank back. No . . . this wasn't FAIR!
'What did you do to my Dad?' I stuttered, my tone quavering.
He bowed his head, but still leered at me with a malicious thin-lipped smile.
A muscle in my neck was having a spaz attack. 'What did you DO?' I repeated, my voice stronger, and angrier.
He wasn't even blinking. Just grinning . . . like that.
I swallowed hard. 'Answer me, or –'
In a brusque movement, he shoved me against the wall, each of my wrists in his hands. He jammed them both beside my head. 'Aaah, Suze . . .'
I let out a very embarrassing little moan. He tickled my neck with his ghostly breath. He didn't deserve breath. Oxygen was for the living. He wasn't converting it into carbon dioxide like the rest of us, but that wasn't the point. He'd lived his time, he couldn't keep acting like he was still alive. He didn't deserve to.
I turned my head sharply to the left. Images flashed through my head . . . Spike axed to the wall . . . Bloody messages . . . Black calligraphy . . . Roses . . .
Roses everywhere.
Paul was a lunatic. He was past insanity. A heartless, sick, twisted killer.
He gently released one of my hands, and trailed a finger down a muscle in my neck, you know that one that appears when you turn your neck? Yeah, that one. He left an icy burning sensation along my skin. It was horrible.
'Get – off me,' I snarled through gritted teeth. His ghostly form – that was pinning me against the mausoleum door – was far too warm to be plausible. Why? Ghosts were supposed to be all spine-tingles and chills. Why did he feel so warm against me like that?
'Come on, Suze, aren't you having fun?' he said, his voice saturated with callous humour. And with that, he seized me around the waist and – literally – flipped me over his head, slamming me on the lid of the elevated grave in the center of the crypt. I cried out, but he climbed over me, and clamped a hand firmly over my mouth. I tried to get up, but it was too hard. He was now on his knees, sitting over my lower waist. He wasn't just keeping me still with his weight, but with . . . with something else, as well. Something that was painfully new to me.
I couldn't speak.
'Okay, I get it,' he smiled down at me, his lips crooked, 'You're obviously not enjoying all of this as much as I am. Pity, it's so much fun,' he leaned down towards my face, so he was right above me. '. . . torturing you.'
His fingers were hurting my jaw. I shut my eyes, and scowled horridly – and silently. There was only a very small space between the top of his index finger and my nostrils, for me to get air.
I wasn't getting enough.
WHY COULDN'T I MOVE?
'Look at me,' he said softly.
I squinted my eyelids closed even more.
His hand crushed my jaw – I squirmed around in urgency. I still could not verbally protest . . . I could barely move.
I flicked my head around, and my eyes snapped open. I glared up at him, my eyebrow twitching in hatred and dread. Dusty air entered my lungs in brief amounts, and my throat was getting very raw.
'Suze, Suze, Suze,' he chided teasingly. 'Don't look at me like that, it's not going to get you anywhere.' But I could see the brutality stirring behind his eyes. This was the little mercy he was displaying me. I doubted it would last long . . .
With his hand, he squeezed my lips so that they resembled a fish's. It was disgusting. I could hear the wet noises of my mouth's movement.
'Let me speak,' came my distorted request.
Paul inclined his head in mirth, his eyes glinting evilly. 'Oh yeah, where are my manners?' He jammed his hands on my shoulders, and ran them slowly down my arms until they reached my elbows. He held them in a secure, tight grip.
'Talk then, Susie. What do you have to say?' he said subtly, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. The air was so thick . . . and hot . . .
Yet again, I swallowed. 'You, Paul, are a sadist.'
He laughed at that one. 'Oh, you noticed. Yeah, I'm working at it.'
I writhed awkwardly. 'What you did to the cat . . . that was sickening.'
'Mmm, I thought you'd like that one,' he breathed at me. I shook my head at him. 'Like it? Oh, cat blood totally fits in with my decor, Paul, really. No, it was disgusting, and was further proof that you deserve to be dead –'
SLAP.
His eyes had lost the toying glint. They were lethal again.
'Don't you DARE stay that,' he spat at me, his raised hand shaking threateningly. 'You have no damned idea about anything, so just shut the hell up!'
I wisely ingested my retort.
'Where's my dad?' I demanded.
A hard smile crossed his lips. 'I wasn't lying, Suze,' he said to me, 'He's where I said. In hell. Or the nearest equivalent. It helps to have a little brother that you can boss around, you know. Well, scare to death, more likely.'
I just stared at him. This guy, oh my God. He had nothing there. No compassion, no love, no humanity at all! It was revolting. And my dad.
He was really gone.
I almost cried, but I didn't . . .
Then, with a coil of his hand, and this weird swirl of red light, a black rose materialized into his hand. My breath was cut short. 'Stop it,' I said, scared.
His grin broadened. His hand slid over one of mine, and picked it up. He opened my palm, much to my resistance, but I couldn't hold him off without him breaking my fingers. Then, he pushed the rose's stem into my hand, and closed it tightly with his own.
I felt the many thorns pierce my skin. I smothered a gasp of pain, and bit down hard on my tongue. Ow . . .
Paul relaxed his hand, and the rose fell from mine, the petals falling off and withering on the spot. He showed me my hand. There were many little punctured in my skin, where little dribbles of thick red liquid trailed out. This . . . ew, it was even more macabre. 'Look, Shifter blood,' he said. 'But yours has been diluted, Suze. From your blood transfusion. You have other blood in you now. Your power is there still, no doubt, but not your purity.' He held my injured hand to his mouth, and kissed it. Ew!
'Mmm,' he smiled, 'I should have been a vampire, you know . . .'
My nose flared furiously. 'You are going to get a big kick up the ass someday. You're not going to see it coming,' I sneered at him quietly.
He glared, but then chuckled darkly, laying my hand on my chest. 'You're probably right,' he ran a finger down my cheek, to which I flinched, 'But in the meantime? I'll have my fun with you . . . '
My eyes widened. Huh? What was that? What did that mean? What the HELL was THAT supposed to mean?
Both his hands came to either side of my face. But they were gentle. There was a very unique softness in his touch. Even his pissed off facial expression had diminished ever so slightly. Again, I started shaking. I hate shaking. It's almost as bad as crying. It shows that you're scared. Or cold. But mainly scared.
His lips parted a tiny bit, and his eyes became very . . . sensuous. Whoa, back off poochie . . .
'Damn,' he muttered, shaking his head vaguely. 'Why'd they have to make you so beautiful?'
Say WHAHH?
Okay, that was kind of when I was most freaked. Now he was REALLY of his nutter. This obviously declared him incurably, criminally insane. So, with as much brawn as I could muster, I pushed him up by his stomach with my hands, and then kicked my feet under there too, cannoning him over me, to the ground. He landed with a land thud, but it was only audible to me – well, I presumed. But the time it took for him to scramble up was the time it took for me to be on my feet, in my most intimidating fighting stance.
When he was up, he stared at me curiously. Then he sniggered. 'Suze . . . you're not going to try fighting me again, right? I mean, come on . . . you know that you're going to lose.'
'I'll take my chances,' I shouted down to him, brushing my loose hair back behind my ears.
He lunged at my feet – remember? I was standing on top of that grave thingy – but I jumped, and totally kicked him in the fact. He growled, and stumbled back. I did a classic twisty back flip, right onto his shoulders. He crumbled down again. I kicked him violently in the stomach as he was laying on his side.
'This is for Spike – and I didn't even like the cat!' I wheezed, kicking harder and harder, 'This is for Timothy – and this . . . this is for DAD –'
On the word "Dad," he rolled on his back, and did this very interesting move like a backwards spin top, which resulted in him standing on his feet. It was pretty cool, but I guess I had marveled at it too long, because he elbowed me into the wall. I smashed against the metal, but rebounded, and charged myself into him. He emitted an "oomph!" and fell sideways, over the grave. I punched him in the chest – ow! I just felt my wrist crack! – but I doubt it did much. Then I punched him from under his nose, breaking it sufficiently.
Well, for a ghost.
'SHIT!' he roared, his hands flinging to his nose. 'Ow . . . oh, shit, Suze! What the – '
He kind of shut up when I repeated the offense, only under his jaw. He grunted, and to my chagrin, I saw his nose snap back into place. Already? Damn!
I lunged at him, but he was ready for me this time. As my fist was about to collide with his head, he caught it in the cup of his hand, threw it away, and seized me by the shoulders, leaning me back against the grave. I let out a low groan, and shoved him back, but he succeeded to kick me in the side. God, he was so fast! Why couldn't I have dexterity like that? WHY? Did I pass that queue when they were handing out shifter skills? No, I had to get double sanity, though.
'I wish that Jesse didn't kill you,' I sneered at him, as he punched and I blocked.
'And why is that?'
'So I could kill you myself,' I shouted, as my kick's aim was true; my foot hit him square on the chest and he slipped back. 'Ha,' I mocked, but my celebration was too soon. Now he was getting pissed.
'You know, you're such an idiot, Suze,' he growled, swiping at my head.
I ducked. 'Nah, my teachers beat you to telling me that,' I replied, kneeing him in the – ironic, huh? – knee.
He staggered, but recovered instantaneously. 'No, really. All this wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me, so long ago. I offered you the world, Suze, and –'
'The world is not enough,' I said dryly, 'In a non 007 way, I mean.'
He laughed darkly. 'You have no idea what a mistake you made when you refused my offer. There is so much that you could do. Stuff that Jesse has no idea about. He's just another shifter, but I can see that you'd go so – '
'Duck.'
'Where – AH!' he yelled, as I pummeled him in the face. It was pretty funny.
I laughed for a second. 'Paul, you're sad. You are. I don't think I've met anyone who's even half of the loser that you are. You're a sick little boy who's playing a game that he's gonna lose, because he cheats and lies and doesn't have any team mates.' I placed my hands on my hips casually. 'Sorry, Paul, but you're low. Real low. Beneath me. Six feet beneath, to be exact,' I added nastily.
He countered this little comment with a severe whack to my head. I went spinning into one of the pillars, and subsided to the floor. He stormed over in a dark rage, seized me my the neck and slammed me against the pillar, my feet dangling several inches over the ground. I spluttered – he was strangling me, and I couldn't, for a second, breathe.
'P-kch–Paul–agh–don't– ' I choked out barely, kicking my feet uselessly, my hands were slapping his, but he wouldn't let go. His eyes were flashing in fury.
Seriously, now THIS was scary, if everything before hadn't been. Everything was forgotten, just the realization that – once again – he had the ability to kill me, that very second.
Not cool!
I still tried struggling, but his hand became tighter, his face became angrier, and his arm became tenser. He was shaking, he was trying to hard.
My eyes were just about rolling back up in head point, when he just dropped me.
I fell to the ground in a heap, coughing energetically.
Paul was staring at me coldly. 'I want to kill you now,' he growled, his eyes so murderous it cut, 'But I can wait . . . just a few more days . . . and everything will be different.'
I massaged my neck, my mouth open wide as I gulped down oxygen – that I had lacked hitherto.
'I'll wait for the right . . . ' his sentence faded, 'What the hell is that?'
I glared, 'what?'
'That . . . ' he stared at my neck. Oh God, this wasn't about the "hickey thing" was it? That was OLD. I mean, come –
Paul snatched at something around his own neck. It was . . .
Holy crap.
'Where'd you get that?' I breathed.
'Same place as Jesse got his, if that is even his,' he snapped. In his hand, he clutched a glinting silver rendition of the Egyptian shifter pendant.
. . . Paul had one of those Shifter necklaces? What did that mean? Jesse said that he got it from his mentor guy. Did that mean that he learnt all the evil things that Paul knew? That Jesse was capable of what Paul could do, as well?
Oh, God . . . Could this get any more complicated?
Actually, don't answer that. I realized I just jinxed the whole thing.
'I'm gonna kill you soon, Suze,' he said hauntingly to me. 'Soon . . . And no Daddy to help you anymore.'
Oh God . . . Memories hit hard at home. Dad . . . The famous Peter Simon. He was gone.
'Get out,' I breathed.
Paul smiled at me. 'Oh, I intend to get out, Suze. I also intend to kill you. You're gonna be mine, love. But like I said, there's a time and a place for everything. Your murder will come then, and this will come NOW.'
He was so fast, I didn't see him coming. Simply with his hand, he gave the lid of the raised coffin an almighty shove, and it went sliding across the room with an almighty crash. I jumped, and while I was still shocked, he lunged over, seized me around the waist, and threw me INTO THE GRAVE.
I screamed blue murder as I landed on something very hard, but it crumbled beneath me.
'Paul! God, don't!' I yelled and tried to get out, but he held me down, grinning like a madman. He was so – so strong! 'LET ME GO!' I screamed at him, thrashing. His hands held my shoulders tightly. His eyes flashed dangerously, with dark pleasure.
'Oooh, this looks cosy,' he remarked with a spine-chilling laugh. 'Let's see if our little friend brings out the necrophiliac in you, Suze?'
'NOOOO! DON'T! LET GO OF –'
He complied rather quickly. Only, the face that he only did so to seize the cover of the coffin, well, that lost him brownie points.
'Be seeing you,' he smirked, blowing me a sardonic kiss.
And he slammed the lid down.
Light was cut off from my vision.
I lay, panting. No . . . this wasn't happening. But, it was. I was trapped in a grave, in a mausoleum that nobody ever visited! Oh God, I could be stuck here for ever! Panting, quicker and faster . . . how long would the oxygen last?! Oh no, God, please, don't let me be BURIED ALIVE!
'Help!' I howled, shouting vulgar profanities to Paul. My voice was horribly loud, and close, and confined. Everything was hot, and stank terribly . . . 'HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE!'
It was no use . . . but I couldn't give up! I NEVER gave up! I pounded on the roof of the coffin desperately, my gasping sharply. It hurt to breathe now, like this air was impure. Oh God, I was going to die – in a grave, with . . .
My voice was terminated as my hand strayed a little to the left . . . it was . . .
EW!!!
LEMME OUTA HERE, GOD DAMN IT! NO, NOT A *SKELETON!!!!*
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!
**************************************************************************** *
My attempt to thank you wonderful gorgeous people. Please review? Everyone means a lot to me, and I want to hear what you think of this.
Climax is coming soon . . . about 2 or 3 chapters away. Get ready, gonna be big. Oh, and the identity of this "demon" will be revealed.
Cheers!
MystAngel.