WARNING! ALERT! Reread the end of previous chapter! Has been CHANGED!
If you have already done so, happy reading. This chapter is a little longer than I expected . . . don't be mad . . .
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Oh my God . . . This wasn't happening to me . . . I thought Paul wanted to kill me? Well, yeah, but later, didn't he say? As in, not now? Well, what was the DEAL? I was going to die from lack of oxygen in here! What, as a ghost, oxygen slipped his mind? Well, Paul-I'm-a-prissy-ghost-I-don't-need- air-because-I'm-so-cool-after-being-my-brains-blown-out-which-was-so-a-good- look-for-me-Slater is a dumbass, wasn't he? Just goes to show, kids, never get shot in the head, okay? It does things to your frigging BRAIN.
'Help!' I screamed, hammering my fists on the inside of the coffin. Oh God, oh God . . . I couldn't breathe! Everything was so dark no, and the air was all carbon dioxide, and it stank, and there was a SKELETON LYING NEXT TO ME!
And what the HELL is a necrophiliac?!?!
(A/N: Look that up too. Oh Gosh, I'm a sicko, aren't I? Go on . . . just say it to my face. "Lolly, you need –"
Cheese!)
Now I was scared. No one knew I was here! I would just DIE here, and no one would know where to look! There'd be a new corpse lying next to one that was so, majorly old. And whiffy, let me tell you . . . I wonder if I'll ever get the stench out of my hair . . .
I WONDER IF I'LL GET OUT OF HERE AT ALL.
'HELP!' I tried one last time, in a futile attempt to stay conscious. I couldn't breathe. I tried, but – but I couldn't. The air, it was like it wasn't there anymore. I couldn't see anything, I could smell something, but even that was fading now, because I couldn't smell anymore without oxygen . . . It was so damn dark, and everything . . . looked . . . so . . . hopeless – now . . .
My head fell to the side.
~*~
'Susannah! Susannah! Oh, dear Lord, do wake up!'
Someone was shaking me frenetically. I blinked hazily, and made several realizations in a grand total of three seconds.
I wasn't dead.
Clean, fresh air was flowing through my lungs.
It wasn't dark anymore.
I was still in the mausoleum.
Something STANK.
Oh my God, it was ME NOW!
Aw yeah, and there was Father Dom.
'Hi Father Dom,' I said, waving.
He nearly had a heart attack in his relief. His snowy hair was looking even more chaotic than the mausoleum I was in. And trust me, the mausoleum was messed up, after that little mêlée with our darling chum, Mr Slater.
Whose family jewels were going to have a dusk appointment with my knee.
Bastard!
The pillars were all dented, there was rock and dust everywhere, the door had been broken open, and a little of the roof had caved in. I don't know how that last thing happened. Perhaps Paul was just letting off steam?
Or not.
I sat up. Yeah, that's right, I was lying down. Beside the coffin, but still. I was out of that damned thing! I realized that I was breathing heavily. Hell, at least I was bloody breathing now. I clutched my chest, and stared at the floor. Again, I'd almost died . . . The hand that was on my chest found the Shifter necklace.
Paul had one too. It had been silver.
Father Dom was looking at me anxiously, his hands confused in whether to support me, or not touch me. Poor old guy. It must suck to be a priest.
I slowed my breathing to an even pace, my eyes shut.
'How . . . how'd you even find me?' I asked him. 'I mean, looking for me in coffin in mausoleum? That was pretty random, Padre.'
He shrugged slightly, and settled on extending his hand to help me stand. Hey, that rhymes. But then, so does death and breath. So what's the big deal?
God, I hate poetry . . .
I accepted his hand, and pulled myself up, my head incredibly light. I leant on the edge of the raised, open coffin. But I didn't look in.
'Well, actually, er, Sister Ernestine witnessed you leaving school grounds. She, er, came directly to me to report it, rather than go and fetch you herself, I believe,' he said sadly.
'Oh God. The nun has no soul,' I said in awe.
Father Dom looked down at me in outrage. 'Susannah! Don't say such things! Sister Ernestine is a little . . . brazen, in her worst moments, but is a dedicated worker of the Lord, and respects the rules of our Mission with great –'
'Yeah, whatever,' I said, rolling my eyes when he wasn't looking. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. What? I had an itchy nose, so sue me? 'But yeah, she told you I'd run away, and so you just go digging up graves? Phooey for you, but that's not all, right?'
'No, it's not.' Father Dom twiddled his fingers unnervingly, and frowned significantly at me. 'Er, I went to your classroom to see if you had returned, but they said that you had – very distraught, they mentioned – run from the classroom subsequent to being sent, what was it, dead roses?'
'Yeah,' I said in a low voice, 'That's it.'
'Yes,' he continued. 'Mr Osbourne showed me a certain letter that had been delivered with these flowers. Oh dear, dead roses, such a terrible omen –'
I coughed expectantly.
Father D reddened. 'I . . . sorry,' he apologized in a mumble, 'But, after reading the note, I too ran out, looking for you. I saw that there were these black roses everywhere, but Susannah, only the ones that were delivered to your class were real.'
I stared.
'Uh . . . huh?'
He readjusted his collar. 'Well, the roses that I saw throughout the hallway – I presume you saw them too – were merely ghost phantasms. Only powerful ghosts can make their victims see things that they do not want to see. I'm supposing that . . . oh dear, uh . . . Paul, isn't it?'
I nodded briefly.
'Yes, Paul. You said that he used to be a shifter, am I correct?'
Again, I nodded.
'Well, Paul's ability to make you see these things may have something to do with him being a shifter in his life,' Father Dom explained, opening his hands expressively. It really annoys me when people talk with their hands. Like, you know, "I'm going to kill you" is sometimes accompanied by a swift finger across the throat? And on "what's going on?" people hold out their hands and hunch their shoulders and – sorry . . . bad Suze. 'Yet,' Father Dom went on, balling one of his fists for emphasis – oh, great – 'Not even the most powerful ghosts can do this. There has to be a certain darkness in the spirit for them to invoke these powers of illusion.'
'Oh, so he got rid of all his light bulbs then?' I said innocently.
Father Dom scowled at me. 'For a start, that wasn't even funny,' he snapped. I snorted. Yay me . . . 'And this is not the time to attempt jokes.'
'Hey, I can be funny. Look, why didn't the ghost go to the party?'
'Susannah, this is not the time – '
'Coz he had no "body" to go with,' I smiled.
Hang on . . .
'But then . . . there might be a mediator there . . . which would make it that he did have a body . . . even if it was just not there to everyone else . . . but it's still classed as a body . . . And – oh god, I realize that I just totally butchered my own joke. And isn't it supposed to be the skeleton that went to the party with nobody? I mean, no body?' I frowned in my thought, then remembered –
'I WAS LYING IN A GRAVE WITH A SKELETON!' I cried out, throwing myself as far away from the grave as I could. 'EWW! EW, I NEED A SHOWER AND INTENSIVE THERAPY! EWWWW! EW –'
'Susannah!' Father Dom shouted at me, his temper flaring.
I went still. Father Dom *had* a temper? Um, join in when I say "huh?"
He looked around, embarrassed, 'I apologize for that, you just . . . '
'Make you so pissed off,' I finished for him glumly, hanging my head. 'Thanks.'
'No – ' he held his head in frustration, massaged in between his eyes as if he was in pain, and then regarded me again. 'Susannah, I do wish that you would tell me everything that is happening with this Paul ghost. He does seem to be quite a –'
'Anus? Jerk off? Dickhead?' I suggested.
Father Dom's eyes went wider. 'Susannah, refrain from your vulgarism, I pray. I was going to go with "threat," but you have certainly made your disdain clear. I, uh, well . . . much as it pains me to say . . . I do believe that everyone deserves a chance to realize what is holding them back on this earth, in their own time . . . but this Paul fellow, he does seem to be quite, well, dangerous.'
'Nuh,' I groaned at him. 'You think?' I held up my hand. 'I prick myself with rose thorns, Padre, really I do. I'm suicidal, you see. Not.'
Father Dom shifted his weight to his left foot. 'Fair enough, Susannah. No need to be like that.'
'Like what?' I demanded.
'Sarcastic,' he said shortly, brushing down the front of his black robes. Why he was looking so priestly today, I had no idea. You know, with the new collar and all, and the – now dusty – new priest clothes? Oh well.
I sighed. Aaah, air . . . at last. Hang on . . .
'How long was I in there for?' I said slowly.
Father Dom looked around awkwardly. 'Well, it remains to be seen –'
'How long?' I asked firmly, my hands on my hips.
He held his chin with his hand. 'Uh, well, approximately half an hour,' he mumbled.
My mouth fell open.
'Holy shit,' I said in astonishment, 'I was in there without air?'
Now he was looking really uncomfortable. 'Yes, Susannah. As a mediator, you have a higher chance of surviving than all other, ah, humans. And yes, I did have to revive you.'
'Whoa, hold the phone!' I exclaimed, holding my hands out vertically flat in front of me, 'Revived me? H-how exactly d-did you revive me?'
Please don't be . . . oooh, God no . . .
'Well,' Father Dom – actually – blushed. 'CPR, of course, Susannah.'
EWW!!!!!!!!! He put his sixty year old lips on mine!!! Who knew where those lips had been?! I mean, it was kind of a blessing that he was a priest and they couldn't have been anywhere too gross, but STILL!
EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!
'WHOA!' I shouted, running away from him, 'Father Dom, I really don't think it should have come to that!' I gathered all of the saliva in my mouth and spat furiously on the floor. Ew! Oh God, EW!
'Susannah, that – that's disrespectful!' he spluttered in rage, 'stop that!'
It was a decent ten seconds before I did stop. I scrubbed my lips with my knuckles aggressively. I dunno, I think I would have been more appreciative if he'd let me die.
Okay, getting a little dramatic there . . .
Jeez, something REALLY stank.
I sniffed my shoulders. Oh GOD, it was me! I needed a bath desperately –
'Anyway,' he said jadedly, clearly pissed off that I was making such a big thing of it, 'As I was saying before, I do believe that it is definitely the time to exorcise this Paul spirit, because he obviously has the opportunity to move on, but will not.'
'Uh, one problem,' I smiled nervously.
'Yes, I am quite certain that – ' he stopped, and stared at me. 'Problem? What problem do you mean, Susannah?'
I slid my hands in my pockets and walked around, shoulders slumped. 'Father D, can a ghost be immune to exorcisms?'
Father Dom blinked, and looked at the roof, staring at where the ceiling had collapsed in. 'Er, I recall reading somewhere that . . . yes, and tremendous amounts of evil can protect a soul from exorcism. And also of course, demons have the power to protect ghosts as well.'
My blood went icy. 'Come again?'
'Demons . . . I know, a very far-fetched story, but I'm willing to believe that if these vampires that you say exist are really real, then demons might well be also,' he said quite fast, brushing a little wisp of white hair from his eyes.
'No, Padre, I think that you're right,' I shook my head, and pointing at him softly. I put my finger to my lips and thought back. '. . . Paul's got some demon after him. Jesse told me something about it when we went riding on – you don't need to know that, ah ha . . . and Cee said he said something to her – '
'CeeCee Webb?' the priest said with incredulity, his wrinkly face going blank with awe, 'the school paper's editor?'
'Yeah, A grade student, blondest of all blondes – meaning white - social reject like me,' I slanted my shoulders, and leaned against the wall. 'Why? What's wrong?'
'Paul, this boy, he appeared to her?' Father Dom said, still bewildered.
'Stranger things have happened,' I nodded, smiling half-heartedly.
'Oh dear,' Father Dom said. 'This Paul fellow, I . . . I think that he is possibly the most powerful ghost that we have ever faced, Susannah. Appearing to the living is most complex. It takes skill, concentration, and power. It's a very –'
'Um, I got that,' I grumbled, pouting. I sighed again. My bottom lip was sticking out. 'Okay, so, Jesse has told me that Paul is resistant to being exorcised. Now that's what I call a big biggie.'
'A big . . . '
Father Dom shook his head at me. 'Your use of our English language astonishes me. But yes, it does complicate things a great deal. Susannah, can you get in contact with Jesse? Is he back at your house? I'm guessing that he's visiting from Spain, via dematerialization?'
'Something like that. I'll check back at my house just OH MY GOD!' I finished with a scream, and jumped away from the wall. How had I missed it?
Staring at me from the opposite wall of the room was another one.
Another message.
In charcoal.
'Susannah, what –'
I pointed vividly. 'There. Look what he wrote!'
Father Dom looked confused. 'What does that mean? "Innocence doesn't last forever. Unless you're dead." Susannah, that doesn't make sense.'
I was staring at it. My mind was swiveling so fast it spun. Innocence? Who was innocent? Was it me? Was he talking about me? Most likely. God, why did he think that I was innocent? I wasn't innocent, hell no. I'm a badass. Blah. I'm a teenage punk, so watch your back. Hehehe, rah, me scary and –
Hang . . . Teenage. What if he meant, like, "childhood" or something, instead of innocence? Childhood? But . . .
'Timothy!' I shouted, and ran for the door.
'Susannah, please, tell me what is happening –'
'No time, he's going for him!' I yelled back, as I zigzagged between the many gravestones. The fog had cleared a bit, but everything was still cold. The grass seemed less verdant than it ever did. But at least I could see no more black roses.
Black . . . black calligraphy . . .
'Oh God,' I said, and staggered in my running. I slipped and fell, sprawled over a granite grave. I just – well, it just . . .
Dad. He was gone. I guess I couldn't deal as well as I thought I could. I mean, as a ghost, he was unreliable when I needed him, but he'd always been there, hadn't he? Just, knowing that he was in the background, checking that Andy had been good enough for my mum. I didn't tell you about the very first time that he visited me in Carmel, did I? Well, yeah. It was just after I'd found out that anger-management-Paul was destined to haunt my room. Well, dad had showed up . . .
I closed my eyes, and thought back . . .
*Flashback*
'Great,' I muttered, digging my hand into my suitcase, and ripping out my clothes. 'Just bloody spiffing. Now to add to my problems as a mediator, one of those ghosts chooses to go all screwy and thus, I have acquired a room mate. Apparently, of the aggressive, overpowering, horny kind.' I stopped, my face warped in an expression of the deepest self disgust. 'Oh, my God . . . Did I just say that? Oh, I did. Someone kill me?!' I threw my many tops into one of the beautiful drawers that Andy had made me. They were finished with this glossy lacquer, and were oak. Very nice.
I sighed. This would be my home for . . . well, I didn't know how long. Supposing, of course, that Paul didn't get pissed off with me, and decapitate me while I was sleeping. Wouldn't that be a hoot?
But seriously, why did the bad guy have to be so . . . hot?
No, not hot. I meant to say H-H-HOT!
. . . I have a problem, don't I? Yes, I do. Great. Another thing to add to my list of, oh, I dunno, insanity?
I quit my unpacking, and collapsed on my bed. My head was hurting. Why did this all have to suck so much? Why couldn't Paul be . . . you know, sane? Nice? Alive? I mean, someone that good-looking didn't deserve to be dead. He was like, a god.
No, stop laughing at me! I'm serious! If it wasn't for the fact that he was possibly a psychopath – which was a slight turn off – Paul was MAJOR hot stuff. I mean, that hair was totally cute, all curly and brown . . . kinda like mine, but, well, shorter. Duh. And the outfit, it was so street wear! Totally stellar, man! But it was what was beneath the outfit that I hoped to discover . . . because from the looks of things, a pretty buff set of washboard abs dwelt beneath that thin designer material. And from the fell of things, too. Remember? He had me pinned against the wall.
Oh God. Why was I tihnking like this? He wanted me dead, didn't he? He was like, grrr, argh, I'm a killer. It was written all over him. Well, not that I knew. I told you, I haven't seen "what lies beneath" yet.
AND YOU NEVER WILL, SUZE! STAY FOCUSED!
Oh, damn. This was going to be more difficult than I thought. I groaned. But he's so cute . . .
STOP IT!
All right, already!
My God. I'm arguing with myself. Paul, this is all YOUR FAULT!!!
Pouting, I inspected my nails. Oh, poop. Look at them. They were horrible! Plane anxiety, that's what. I refuse to go on a plane again! I mean, when we took off, I CHEWED MY NAILS. I don't chew my nails! Ever! So what was the deal?!
My life sucks.
I really wished I had someone to talk to, you know? But oh well.
It's safe to say, the hand on my shoulder scared the living shit out of me.
I swore obscenely after rolling off the bed as fast as lightning. I mean, as hot as Paul was, he couldn't just – just, well – go touching, right?
Yeah, Paul. Don't touch this.
'Hey, precious. Don't swear.'
I peeked over the top of the bed, and saw who was standing there. My normal brain functions returned to me, and I released the big gulp of air I'd been holding.
'Hi Dad,' I smiled, rolling my eyes. But then I got peeved. I mean, seriously! Just because he was dead, he SO didn't get special privileges! 'Hey, you can't just do that,' I snapped at him, sulking even more. I crossed my arms after I was sitting on my bed again. 'It's rude.'
'Mmm,' he considered, 'But it's so fun . . . '
I ditched a cushion at him, but it went straight through him. He blinked, looking very disturbed for a second, but then shrugged it off and stuck out his tongue. 'Ha. Beat ya.'
I gave him my cutest "pissed off" face. 'What do you want?'
He looked highly affronted. 'I have to have a reason for coming to visit my little pumpkin?'
I flushed red. 'Dad, don't call me that!'
He beamed at me playfully. 'Why? Too old?'
'Yeah,' I snapped. 'I'm way old now. I'm not six anymore, if you noticed.'
He didn't answer, only stared at me wistfully. 'Oh, Suze,' he said, looking all, you know, soppy. 'You've grown up so fast, sweetie. Too fast, even.'
'And the jollity award goes to . . . ' I muttered.
He shook his head at me, not smiling. 'Come here,' he said slowly, holding his arms open.
'Aw, Dad,' I groaned.
'What?' he demanded. 'You're too old for a hug? Get your tooshie here, young lady.'
I rolled my eyes dramatically, and slumped over to him, slipping my arms around his shoulders.
He breathed into my hair. 'No matter how old you are, Suze, you'll always be my special little baby. You're growing into a beautiful young woman, and I'm so proud of you . . . ' He hugged my tightly.
Everything bad just melded all of a sudden . . . everything would be fine.
I had Dad.
~*~
Young girl, don't cry
I'll be right here when your world starts to fall
Young girl, it's all right
Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly
- Christina Aguliera
~*~
As mortifying as it was, it was really nice to be held my someone who loved me so much. Even if it was just fatherly love.
Throwing all embarrassment to the wind, I smiled sweetly into his shoulder. 'I love you too, dad.'
He let go of me slowly, and held me in front of him. 'Suze, you're going to be something really special when you get older.'
'What? Not another cryptic ghost message,' I pursed my lips. I'm so sick of those –'
'No, this isn't a cryptic ghost message,' he smiled knowingly. 'This is just something I know. As your father.'
I blinked at him. 'Uh . . . thanks.'
He chuckled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes. 'Good luck, kiddo,' he said, leant forward, and kissed my lightly on my forehead.
I loved him so much, under all his irresponsibility.
'Dad, I –' I began, but he'd dematerialized, with the word "pumpkin."
He was gone.
*End of flashback.*
Yeah, that's right. He was gone . . .
Gone forever.
~*~
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
- Evanescence
~*~
I picked myself up from the stone grave, sniffling a little. It was so hard. He really was gone. Now I felt like I'd really lost my father. Because I had.
I'd lost him to Paul.
Paul Eat-me Slater.
He was going to hell . . .
But still. It was so scary. So illogical. After everything that he'd done, said . . . Everything . . . I still knew that I didn't have the courage to exorcise him.
I knew it deep in the caverns of my heart. There was something there that wouldn't let me do it. Grrr, damn heart . . .
Well, at least I had one.
Looking around, I saw that the gravestones stretched on for ages. So many. So many people, dead. Gone forever, to those without the mediator ability.
But even then, not everyone came back as a ghost.
Had I been lucky?
Had – Crap! I'd forgotten about Timothy! I –
'Suze? Uh, Suze?'
I stopped, and turned. The little tike himself was standing beside a gravestone.
The poor thing was shaking.
'Oh, thank God!' I praised, and swept him into a tight hug. 'I was scared that Paul – you know, that guy who killed Spike – that he would come after you.'
'But Suze, he did,' Timothy whined.
I went cold.
'He did?'
'Yeah. And he told me that he's going to give you to someone!'
Huh?
'What do you mean, Timmy?' I asked in confusion.
'I don't know . . . ' The little guy was starting to tear. 'He said that he was going to give you to someone, because the bad person was after him, and they wanted you. He said the person was after "shitters."'
I blinked.
Then I cracked up.
Come on! It was just so cute! He was being so serious, and then that! Maybe I was just laughing in the grief as well. I don't know. I really don't know . . .
Timothy glared at me. 'It's not funny, Suze! He chased me, and he almost hurt me.'
I stopped laughing.
'Hurt you?' I asked, twitching strangely. Paul . . . he was trying to attack Timothy now? He sent my Dad to hell – and – and . . . and now he tried to attack TIMOTHY?!
This was too much.
I started to panic. My Dad, he was bad enough. He was the only father I had. Andy was . . . well, Andy. But Dad . . .
And now after Dad, Paul was GOING AFTER TIMOTHY.
This wasn't on. No, not on . . .
'Father Dom!' I yelled out loud. 'Father Dom, get here!'
From the mausoleum, Father D came running. 'Sorry, I was just inspecting the damage. It will cost a lot to repair, Susannah. You really couldn't have taken your struggle with Paul elsewhere, couldn't – oh hello now,' he smiled, catching sight of Timothy in my arms.
I rolled my eyes. 'Father D, I need you to take Timmy here to the Rectory. Paul, he's after him.'
Father Dom went pale. 'Good Lord,' he said solemnly, swallowing hard. 'He's after a child . . . '
'Hey,' snapped Tim. 'Speak for yourself.'
We both stared for him.
I mean . . . weird.
Father Dom was about as far away from a child as you could get.
You know, with the wrinkles, and . . . and the wrinkles? But yeah.
The priest before me nodded, and took Timothy from me. 'Don't worry, Susannah,' he said, 'I will keep him safe. Oh!' he cried, making Timothy jump. 'I just remembered, Susannah. An old man I am . . . Jesse contacted me this morning, he said something that his uncle was sick and he needed to go back.'
B-b-back? Now?!
My mouth kinda fell open.
'You're kidding,' I said with a dry smile.
'I'm afraid I'm not, er, kidding,' he replied.
'Jesse,' murmured Timmy. 'He's that Chinese guy from before, isn't he?'
I shot Tim a weird look. 'Chinese?'
Tim looked oblivious. 'What? He wasn't American,' he said defensively.
Oh God. This kid had a lot to learn about culture.
'Jesse is Latino,' I said kindly. 'It means he's Spanish, but Californian at the same time.'
'Spanish? Like, the people of the Spanish soap operas that my mum used to watch all the time?' he asked hopefully, his eyes bright.
'Uh, yeah,' I said slowly.
'Susannah,' Father Dom drew my attention back to him, 'What are you going to do about Paul? Oh, I do wish that you would tell me more about him. It would help a lot more.'
Tell him more? About what? Huh?
'What's to tell? I don't like him or anything,' I gushed, 'I don't like him a bit. Just because he was the first guy to eve kiss me, that doesn't mean that I have a soft spot for him. If I could exorcise him I SO would, no soft spots here, no liking Paul. Paul is bad, but still has really great abs – not that I know! I've never known –'
'Cool . . . she talks fast,' Timmy grinned. 'Like my sister when she's really guilty about something. Are you guilty, Suze?'
I gulped. 'Me guilt? Nope, I'm so guilt free, I could – um . . . what's a good thing to do when you're guilt free? I need to finish my pun,' I babbled on –
'Susannah!' snapped Father Dom, holding onto Timmy tighter. 'Go back to class. It's bad enough that you spend so much time in my office talking about mediating without you being chased by a crazed ghostly killer.'
'What? Well, it's just as bad as algebra –'
'How?'
'Uh . . . both inspire a terror in my heart?' I suggested.
He smiled faintly. 'That, I guess I can understand.'
Oh! Oh, a thought!
'Padre,' I said quickly, 'Uh, that Red Lady, has she visited you?' I asked apprehensively.
'No, I'm afraid not.'
'Oh. Well, maybe if you –'
'Susannah, I believe that you should be in class now.'
'I hate grown-up talk.'
'Shut up, Timothy. Father D, I'm really not missing much, just a bunch of random letters that have the nerve to think that they can replace numbers in the affections of mathematicians everywhere –'
'Go.'
'Oh, all right. Don't get your habit all twisted,' I huffed, walking back towards the Mission. Well, to the showers, in any case.
Because dude, I reeked.
****************************************************************************
Uh . . . I don't know why that was so long. Okay, things are going to get a lot better next chapter, let me tell you . . . trust me, you'll like it . . .
Enter Querida Andres.
And Jesse/Suze fluff, I think.
. . . But you're not getting it until you review! So blah! REVIEW OR NO CHAPTER!!!
Muahahaha!
Sorry . . . I just really love reviews.
Please, comment on anything in the chapter that you like. Ask questions, uh, flames (actually, maybe not . . . ) criticize, anything. Just review! Okay, love you all SO much!
Regards, MystAngel.
REVIEW!!!!!
If you have already done so, happy reading. This chapter is a little longer than I expected . . . don't be mad . . .
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Oh my God . . . This wasn't happening to me . . . I thought Paul wanted to kill me? Well, yeah, but later, didn't he say? As in, not now? Well, what was the DEAL? I was going to die from lack of oxygen in here! What, as a ghost, oxygen slipped his mind? Well, Paul-I'm-a-prissy-ghost-I-don't-need- air-because-I'm-so-cool-after-being-my-brains-blown-out-which-was-so-a-good- look-for-me-Slater is a dumbass, wasn't he? Just goes to show, kids, never get shot in the head, okay? It does things to your frigging BRAIN.
'Help!' I screamed, hammering my fists on the inside of the coffin. Oh God, oh God . . . I couldn't breathe! Everything was so dark no, and the air was all carbon dioxide, and it stank, and there was a SKELETON LYING NEXT TO ME!
And what the HELL is a necrophiliac?!?!
(A/N: Look that up too. Oh Gosh, I'm a sicko, aren't I? Go on . . . just say it to my face. "Lolly, you need –"
Cheese!)
Now I was scared. No one knew I was here! I would just DIE here, and no one would know where to look! There'd be a new corpse lying next to one that was so, majorly old. And whiffy, let me tell you . . . I wonder if I'll ever get the stench out of my hair . . .
I WONDER IF I'LL GET OUT OF HERE AT ALL.
'HELP!' I tried one last time, in a futile attempt to stay conscious. I couldn't breathe. I tried, but – but I couldn't. The air, it was like it wasn't there anymore. I couldn't see anything, I could smell something, but even that was fading now, because I couldn't smell anymore without oxygen . . . It was so damn dark, and everything . . . looked . . . so . . . hopeless – now . . .
My head fell to the side.
~*~
'Susannah! Susannah! Oh, dear Lord, do wake up!'
Someone was shaking me frenetically. I blinked hazily, and made several realizations in a grand total of three seconds.
I wasn't dead.
Clean, fresh air was flowing through my lungs.
It wasn't dark anymore.
I was still in the mausoleum.
Something STANK.
Oh my God, it was ME NOW!
Aw yeah, and there was Father Dom.
'Hi Father Dom,' I said, waving.
He nearly had a heart attack in his relief. His snowy hair was looking even more chaotic than the mausoleum I was in. And trust me, the mausoleum was messed up, after that little mêlée with our darling chum, Mr Slater.
Whose family jewels were going to have a dusk appointment with my knee.
Bastard!
The pillars were all dented, there was rock and dust everywhere, the door had been broken open, and a little of the roof had caved in. I don't know how that last thing happened. Perhaps Paul was just letting off steam?
Or not.
I sat up. Yeah, that's right, I was lying down. Beside the coffin, but still. I was out of that damned thing! I realized that I was breathing heavily. Hell, at least I was bloody breathing now. I clutched my chest, and stared at the floor. Again, I'd almost died . . . The hand that was on my chest found the Shifter necklace.
Paul had one too. It had been silver.
Father Dom was looking at me anxiously, his hands confused in whether to support me, or not touch me. Poor old guy. It must suck to be a priest.
I slowed my breathing to an even pace, my eyes shut.
'How . . . how'd you even find me?' I asked him. 'I mean, looking for me in coffin in mausoleum? That was pretty random, Padre.'
He shrugged slightly, and settled on extending his hand to help me stand. Hey, that rhymes. But then, so does death and breath. So what's the big deal?
God, I hate poetry . . .
I accepted his hand, and pulled myself up, my head incredibly light. I leant on the edge of the raised, open coffin. But I didn't look in.
'Well, actually, er, Sister Ernestine witnessed you leaving school grounds. She, er, came directly to me to report it, rather than go and fetch you herself, I believe,' he said sadly.
'Oh God. The nun has no soul,' I said in awe.
Father Dom looked down at me in outrage. 'Susannah! Don't say such things! Sister Ernestine is a little . . . brazen, in her worst moments, but is a dedicated worker of the Lord, and respects the rules of our Mission with great –'
'Yeah, whatever,' I said, rolling my eyes when he wasn't looking. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. What? I had an itchy nose, so sue me? 'But yeah, she told you I'd run away, and so you just go digging up graves? Phooey for you, but that's not all, right?'
'No, it's not.' Father Dom twiddled his fingers unnervingly, and frowned significantly at me. 'Er, I went to your classroom to see if you had returned, but they said that you had – very distraught, they mentioned – run from the classroom subsequent to being sent, what was it, dead roses?'
'Yeah,' I said in a low voice, 'That's it.'
'Yes,' he continued. 'Mr Osbourne showed me a certain letter that had been delivered with these flowers. Oh dear, dead roses, such a terrible omen –'
I coughed expectantly.
Father D reddened. 'I . . . sorry,' he apologized in a mumble, 'But, after reading the note, I too ran out, looking for you. I saw that there were these black roses everywhere, but Susannah, only the ones that were delivered to your class were real.'
I stared.
'Uh . . . huh?'
He readjusted his collar. 'Well, the roses that I saw throughout the hallway – I presume you saw them too – were merely ghost phantasms. Only powerful ghosts can make their victims see things that they do not want to see. I'm supposing that . . . oh dear, uh . . . Paul, isn't it?'
I nodded briefly.
'Yes, Paul. You said that he used to be a shifter, am I correct?'
Again, I nodded.
'Well, Paul's ability to make you see these things may have something to do with him being a shifter in his life,' Father Dom explained, opening his hands expressively. It really annoys me when people talk with their hands. Like, you know, "I'm going to kill you" is sometimes accompanied by a swift finger across the throat? And on "what's going on?" people hold out their hands and hunch their shoulders and – sorry . . . bad Suze. 'Yet,' Father Dom went on, balling one of his fists for emphasis – oh, great – 'Not even the most powerful ghosts can do this. There has to be a certain darkness in the spirit for them to invoke these powers of illusion.'
'Oh, so he got rid of all his light bulbs then?' I said innocently.
Father Dom scowled at me. 'For a start, that wasn't even funny,' he snapped. I snorted. Yay me . . . 'And this is not the time to attempt jokes.'
'Hey, I can be funny. Look, why didn't the ghost go to the party?'
'Susannah, this is not the time – '
'Coz he had no "body" to go with,' I smiled.
Hang on . . .
'But then . . . there might be a mediator there . . . which would make it that he did have a body . . . even if it was just not there to everyone else . . . but it's still classed as a body . . . And – oh god, I realize that I just totally butchered my own joke. And isn't it supposed to be the skeleton that went to the party with nobody? I mean, no body?' I frowned in my thought, then remembered –
'I WAS LYING IN A GRAVE WITH A SKELETON!' I cried out, throwing myself as far away from the grave as I could. 'EWW! EW, I NEED A SHOWER AND INTENSIVE THERAPY! EWWWW! EW –'
'Susannah!' Father Dom shouted at me, his temper flaring.
I went still. Father Dom *had* a temper? Um, join in when I say "huh?"
He looked around, embarrassed, 'I apologize for that, you just . . . '
'Make you so pissed off,' I finished for him glumly, hanging my head. 'Thanks.'
'No – ' he held his head in frustration, massaged in between his eyes as if he was in pain, and then regarded me again. 'Susannah, I do wish that you would tell me everything that is happening with this Paul ghost. He does seem to be quite a –'
'Anus? Jerk off? Dickhead?' I suggested.
Father Dom's eyes went wider. 'Susannah, refrain from your vulgarism, I pray. I was going to go with "threat," but you have certainly made your disdain clear. I, uh, well . . . much as it pains me to say . . . I do believe that everyone deserves a chance to realize what is holding them back on this earth, in their own time . . . but this Paul fellow, he does seem to be quite, well, dangerous.'
'Nuh,' I groaned at him. 'You think?' I held up my hand. 'I prick myself with rose thorns, Padre, really I do. I'm suicidal, you see. Not.'
Father Dom shifted his weight to his left foot. 'Fair enough, Susannah. No need to be like that.'
'Like what?' I demanded.
'Sarcastic,' he said shortly, brushing down the front of his black robes. Why he was looking so priestly today, I had no idea. You know, with the new collar and all, and the – now dusty – new priest clothes? Oh well.
I sighed. Aaah, air . . . at last. Hang on . . .
'How long was I in there for?' I said slowly.
Father Dom looked around awkwardly. 'Well, it remains to be seen –'
'How long?' I asked firmly, my hands on my hips.
He held his chin with his hand. 'Uh, well, approximately half an hour,' he mumbled.
My mouth fell open.
'Holy shit,' I said in astonishment, 'I was in there without air?'
Now he was looking really uncomfortable. 'Yes, Susannah. As a mediator, you have a higher chance of surviving than all other, ah, humans. And yes, I did have to revive you.'
'Whoa, hold the phone!' I exclaimed, holding my hands out vertically flat in front of me, 'Revived me? H-how exactly d-did you revive me?'
Please don't be . . . oooh, God no . . .
'Well,' Father Dom – actually – blushed. 'CPR, of course, Susannah.'
EWW!!!!!!!!! He put his sixty year old lips on mine!!! Who knew where those lips had been?! I mean, it was kind of a blessing that he was a priest and they couldn't have been anywhere too gross, but STILL!
EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!
'WHOA!' I shouted, running away from him, 'Father Dom, I really don't think it should have come to that!' I gathered all of the saliva in my mouth and spat furiously on the floor. Ew! Oh God, EW!
'Susannah, that – that's disrespectful!' he spluttered in rage, 'stop that!'
It was a decent ten seconds before I did stop. I scrubbed my lips with my knuckles aggressively. I dunno, I think I would have been more appreciative if he'd let me die.
Okay, getting a little dramatic there . . .
Jeez, something REALLY stank.
I sniffed my shoulders. Oh GOD, it was me! I needed a bath desperately –
'Anyway,' he said jadedly, clearly pissed off that I was making such a big thing of it, 'As I was saying before, I do believe that it is definitely the time to exorcise this Paul spirit, because he obviously has the opportunity to move on, but will not.'
'Uh, one problem,' I smiled nervously.
'Yes, I am quite certain that – ' he stopped, and stared at me. 'Problem? What problem do you mean, Susannah?'
I slid my hands in my pockets and walked around, shoulders slumped. 'Father D, can a ghost be immune to exorcisms?'
Father Dom blinked, and looked at the roof, staring at where the ceiling had collapsed in. 'Er, I recall reading somewhere that . . . yes, and tremendous amounts of evil can protect a soul from exorcism. And also of course, demons have the power to protect ghosts as well.'
My blood went icy. 'Come again?'
'Demons . . . I know, a very far-fetched story, but I'm willing to believe that if these vampires that you say exist are really real, then demons might well be also,' he said quite fast, brushing a little wisp of white hair from his eyes.
'No, Padre, I think that you're right,' I shook my head, and pointing at him softly. I put my finger to my lips and thought back. '. . . Paul's got some demon after him. Jesse told me something about it when we went riding on – you don't need to know that, ah ha . . . and Cee said he said something to her – '
'CeeCee Webb?' the priest said with incredulity, his wrinkly face going blank with awe, 'the school paper's editor?'
'Yeah, A grade student, blondest of all blondes – meaning white - social reject like me,' I slanted my shoulders, and leaned against the wall. 'Why? What's wrong?'
'Paul, this boy, he appeared to her?' Father Dom said, still bewildered.
'Stranger things have happened,' I nodded, smiling half-heartedly.
'Oh dear,' Father Dom said. 'This Paul fellow, I . . . I think that he is possibly the most powerful ghost that we have ever faced, Susannah. Appearing to the living is most complex. It takes skill, concentration, and power. It's a very –'
'Um, I got that,' I grumbled, pouting. I sighed again. My bottom lip was sticking out. 'Okay, so, Jesse has told me that Paul is resistant to being exorcised. Now that's what I call a big biggie.'
'A big . . . '
Father Dom shook his head at me. 'Your use of our English language astonishes me. But yes, it does complicate things a great deal. Susannah, can you get in contact with Jesse? Is he back at your house? I'm guessing that he's visiting from Spain, via dematerialization?'
'Something like that. I'll check back at my house just OH MY GOD!' I finished with a scream, and jumped away from the wall. How had I missed it?
Staring at me from the opposite wall of the room was another one.
Another message.
In charcoal.
'Susannah, what –'
I pointed vividly. 'There. Look what he wrote!'
Father Dom looked confused. 'What does that mean? "Innocence doesn't last forever. Unless you're dead." Susannah, that doesn't make sense.'
I was staring at it. My mind was swiveling so fast it spun. Innocence? Who was innocent? Was it me? Was he talking about me? Most likely. God, why did he think that I was innocent? I wasn't innocent, hell no. I'm a badass. Blah. I'm a teenage punk, so watch your back. Hehehe, rah, me scary and –
Hang . . . Teenage. What if he meant, like, "childhood" or something, instead of innocence? Childhood? But . . .
'Timothy!' I shouted, and ran for the door.
'Susannah, please, tell me what is happening –'
'No time, he's going for him!' I yelled back, as I zigzagged between the many gravestones. The fog had cleared a bit, but everything was still cold. The grass seemed less verdant than it ever did. But at least I could see no more black roses.
Black . . . black calligraphy . . .
'Oh God,' I said, and staggered in my running. I slipped and fell, sprawled over a granite grave. I just – well, it just . . .
Dad. He was gone. I guess I couldn't deal as well as I thought I could. I mean, as a ghost, he was unreliable when I needed him, but he'd always been there, hadn't he? Just, knowing that he was in the background, checking that Andy had been good enough for my mum. I didn't tell you about the very first time that he visited me in Carmel, did I? Well, yeah. It was just after I'd found out that anger-management-Paul was destined to haunt my room. Well, dad had showed up . . .
I closed my eyes, and thought back . . .
*Flashback*
'Great,' I muttered, digging my hand into my suitcase, and ripping out my clothes. 'Just bloody spiffing. Now to add to my problems as a mediator, one of those ghosts chooses to go all screwy and thus, I have acquired a room mate. Apparently, of the aggressive, overpowering, horny kind.' I stopped, my face warped in an expression of the deepest self disgust. 'Oh, my God . . . Did I just say that? Oh, I did. Someone kill me?!' I threw my many tops into one of the beautiful drawers that Andy had made me. They were finished with this glossy lacquer, and were oak. Very nice.
I sighed. This would be my home for . . . well, I didn't know how long. Supposing, of course, that Paul didn't get pissed off with me, and decapitate me while I was sleeping. Wouldn't that be a hoot?
But seriously, why did the bad guy have to be so . . . hot?
No, not hot. I meant to say H-H-HOT!
. . . I have a problem, don't I? Yes, I do. Great. Another thing to add to my list of, oh, I dunno, insanity?
I quit my unpacking, and collapsed on my bed. My head was hurting. Why did this all have to suck so much? Why couldn't Paul be . . . you know, sane? Nice? Alive? I mean, someone that good-looking didn't deserve to be dead. He was like, a god.
No, stop laughing at me! I'm serious! If it wasn't for the fact that he was possibly a psychopath – which was a slight turn off – Paul was MAJOR hot stuff. I mean, that hair was totally cute, all curly and brown . . . kinda like mine, but, well, shorter. Duh. And the outfit, it was so street wear! Totally stellar, man! But it was what was beneath the outfit that I hoped to discover . . . because from the looks of things, a pretty buff set of washboard abs dwelt beneath that thin designer material. And from the fell of things, too. Remember? He had me pinned against the wall.
Oh God. Why was I tihnking like this? He wanted me dead, didn't he? He was like, grrr, argh, I'm a killer. It was written all over him. Well, not that I knew. I told you, I haven't seen "what lies beneath" yet.
AND YOU NEVER WILL, SUZE! STAY FOCUSED!
Oh, damn. This was going to be more difficult than I thought. I groaned. But he's so cute . . .
STOP IT!
All right, already!
My God. I'm arguing with myself. Paul, this is all YOUR FAULT!!!
Pouting, I inspected my nails. Oh, poop. Look at them. They were horrible! Plane anxiety, that's what. I refuse to go on a plane again! I mean, when we took off, I CHEWED MY NAILS. I don't chew my nails! Ever! So what was the deal?!
My life sucks.
I really wished I had someone to talk to, you know? But oh well.
It's safe to say, the hand on my shoulder scared the living shit out of me.
I swore obscenely after rolling off the bed as fast as lightning. I mean, as hot as Paul was, he couldn't just – just, well – go touching, right?
Yeah, Paul. Don't touch this.
'Hey, precious. Don't swear.'
I peeked over the top of the bed, and saw who was standing there. My normal brain functions returned to me, and I released the big gulp of air I'd been holding.
'Hi Dad,' I smiled, rolling my eyes. But then I got peeved. I mean, seriously! Just because he was dead, he SO didn't get special privileges! 'Hey, you can't just do that,' I snapped at him, sulking even more. I crossed my arms after I was sitting on my bed again. 'It's rude.'
'Mmm,' he considered, 'But it's so fun . . . '
I ditched a cushion at him, but it went straight through him. He blinked, looking very disturbed for a second, but then shrugged it off and stuck out his tongue. 'Ha. Beat ya.'
I gave him my cutest "pissed off" face. 'What do you want?'
He looked highly affronted. 'I have to have a reason for coming to visit my little pumpkin?'
I flushed red. 'Dad, don't call me that!'
He beamed at me playfully. 'Why? Too old?'
'Yeah,' I snapped. 'I'm way old now. I'm not six anymore, if you noticed.'
He didn't answer, only stared at me wistfully. 'Oh, Suze,' he said, looking all, you know, soppy. 'You've grown up so fast, sweetie. Too fast, even.'
'And the jollity award goes to . . . ' I muttered.
He shook his head at me, not smiling. 'Come here,' he said slowly, holding his arms open.
'Aw, Dad,' I groaned.
'What?' he demanded. 'You're too old for a hug? Get your tooshie here, young lady.'
I rolled my eyes dramatically, and slumped over to him, slipping my arms around his shoulders.
He breathed into my hair. 'No matter how old you are, Suze, you'll always be my special little baby. You're growing into a beautiful young woman, and I'm so proud of you . . . ' He hugged my tightly.
Everything bad just melded all of a sudden . . . everything would be fine.
I had Dad.
~*~
Young girl, don't cry
I'll be right here when your world starts to fall
Young girl, it's all right
Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly
- Christina Aguliera
~*~
As mortifying as it was, it was really nice to be held my someone who loved me so much. Even if it was just fatherly love.
Throwing all embarrassment to the wind, I smiled sweetly into his shoulder. 'I love you too, dad.'
He let go of me slowly, and held me in front of him. 'Suze, you're going to be something really special when you get older.'
'What? Not another cryptic ghost message,' I pursed my lips. I'm so sick of those –'
'No, this isn't a cryptic ghost message,' he smiled knowingly. 'This is just something I know. As your father.'
I blinked at him. 'Uh . . . thanks.'
He chuckled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes. 'Good luck, kiddo,' he said, leant forward, and kissed my lightly on my forehead.
I loved him so much, under all his irresponsibility.
'Dad, I –' I began, but he'd dematerialized, with the word "pumpkin."
He was gone.
*End of flashback.*
Yeah, that's right. He was gone . . .
Gone forever.
~*~
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
- Evanescence
~*~
I picked myself up from the stone grave, sniffling a little. It was so hard. He really was gone. Now I felt like I'd really lost my father. Because I had.
I'd lost him to Paul.
Paul Eat-me Slater.
He was going to hell . . .
But still. It was so scary. So illogical. After everything that he'd done, said . . . Everything . . . I still knew that I didn't have the courage to exorcise him.
I knew it deep in the caverns of my heart. There was something there that wouldn't let me do it. Grrr, damn heart . . .
Well, at least I had one.
Looking around, I saw that the gravestones stretched on for ages. So many. So many people, dead. Gone forever, to those without the mediator ability.
But even then, not everyone came back as a ghost.
Had I been lucky?
Had – Crap! I'd forgotten about Timothy! I –
'Suze? Uh, Suze?'
I stopped, and turned. The little tike himself was standing beside a gravestone.
The poor thing was shaking.
'Oh, thank God!' I praised, and swept him into a tight hug. 'I was scared that Paul – you know, that guy who killed Spike – that he would come after you.'
'But Suze, he did,' Timothy whined.
I went cold.
'He did?'
'Yeah. And he told me that he's going to give you to someone!'
Huh?
'What do you mean, Timmy?' I asked in confusion.
'I don't know . . . ' The little guy was starting to tear. 'He said that he was going to give you to someone, because the bad person was after him, and they wanted you. He said the person was after "shitters."'
I blinked.
Then I cracked up.
Come on! It was just so cute! He was being so serious, and then that! Maybe I was just laughing in the grief as well. I don't know. I really don't know . . .
Timothy glared at me. 'It's not funny, Suze! He chased me, and he almost hurt me.'
I stopped laughing.
'Hurt you?' I asked, twitching strangely. Paul . . . he was trying to attack Timothy now? He sent my Dad to hell – and – and . . . and now he tried to attack TIMOTHY?!
This was too much.
I started to panic. My Dad, he was bad enough. He was the only father I had. Andy was . . . well, Andy. But Dad . . .
And now after Dad, Paul was GOING AFTER TIMOTHY.
This wasn't on. No, not on . . .
'Father Dom!' I yelled out loud. 'Father Dom, get here!'
From the mausoleum, Father D came running. 'Sorry, I was just inspecting the damage. It will cost a lot to repair, Susannah. You really couldn't have taken your struggle with Paul elsewhere, couldn't – oh hello now,' he smiled, catching sight of Timothy in my arms.
I rolled my eyes. 'Father D, I need you to take Timmy here to the Rectory. Paul, he's after him.'
Father Dom went pale. 'Good Lord,' he said solemnly, swallowing hard. 'He's after a child . . . '
'Hey,' snapped Tim. 'Speak for yourself.'
We both stared for him.
I mean . . . weird.
Father Dom was about as far away from a child as you could get.
You know, with the wrinkles, and . . . and the wrinkles? But yeah.
The priest before me nodded, and took Timothy from me. 'Don't worry, Susannah,' he said, 'I will keep him safe. Oh!' he cried, making Timothy jump. 'I just remembered, Susannah. An old man I am . . . Jesse contacted me this morning, he said something that his uncle was sick and he needed to go back.'
B-b-back? Now?!
My mouth kinda fell open.
'You're kidding,' I said with a dry smile.
'I'm afraid I'm not, er, kidding,' he replied.
'Jesse,' murmured Timmy. 'He's that Chinese guy from before, isn't he?'
I shot Tim a weird look. 'Chinese?'
Tim looked oblivious. 'What? He wasn't American,' he said defensively.
Oh God. This kid had a lot to learn about culture.
'Jesse is Latino,' I said kindly. 'It means he's Spanish, but Californian at the same time.'
'Spanish? Like, the people of the Spanish soap operas that my mum used to watch all the time?' he asked hopefully, his eyes bright.
'Uh, yeah,' I said slowly.
'Susannah,' Father Dom drew my attention back to him, 'What are you going to do about Paul? Oh, I do wish that you would tell me more about him. It would help a lot more.'
Tell him more? About what? Huh?
'What's to tell? I don't like him or anything,' I gushed, 'I don't like him a bit. Just because he was the first guy to eve kiss me, that doesn't mean that I have a soft spot for him. If I could exorcise him I SO would, no soft spots here, no liking Paul. Paul is bad, but still has really great abs – not that I know! I've never known –'
'Cool . . . she talks fast,' Timmy grinned. 'Like my sister when she's really guilty about something. Are you guilty, Suze?'
I gulped. 'Me guilt? Nope, I'm so guilt free, I could – um . . . what's a good thing to do when you're guilt free? I need to finish my pun,' I babbled on –
'Susannah!' snapped Father Dom, holding onto Timmy tighter. 'Go back to class. It's bad enough that you spend so much time in my office talking about mediating without you being chased by a crazed ghostly killer.'
'What? Well, it's just as bad as algebra –'
'How?'
'Uh . . . both inspire a terror in my heart?' I suggested.
He smiled faintly. 'That, I guess I can understand.'
Oh! Oh, a thought!
'Padre,' I said quickly, 'Uh, that Red Lady, has she visited you?' I asked apprehensively.
'No, I'm afraid not.'
'Oh. Well, maybe if you –'
'Susannah, I believe that you should be in class now.'
'I hate grown-up talk.'
'Shut up, Timothy. Father D, I'm really not missing much, just a bunch of random letters that have the nerve to think that they can replace numbers in the affections of mathematicians everywhere –'
'Go.'
'Oh, all right. Don't get your habit all twisted,' I huffed, walking back towards the Mission. Well, to the showers, in any case.
Because dude, I reeked.
****************************************************************************
Uh . . . I don't know why that was so long. Okay, things are going to get a lot better next chapter, let me tell you . . . trust me, you'll like it . . .
Enter Querida Andres.
And Jesse/Suze fluff, I think.
. . . But you're not getting it until you review! So blah! REVIEW OR NO CHAPTER!!!
Muahahaha!
Sorry . . . I just really love reviews.
Please, comment on anything in the chapter that you like. Ask questions, uh, flames (actually, maybe not . . . ) criticize, anything. Just review! Okay, love you all SO much!
Regards, MystAngel.
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