Horror Vacui

A/N: Uh...No comment. I'm a horrible person for making you all wait months for me to update. End of story.

My sincere apologies.

SORRY!

Um... Did I mention I was sorry?'Cause I am!

Disclaimer: Mediator books belong to Meg Cabot, fabulous creator of Twilight and all those other jazzy books. I only own half of the plot (since everyone seems to be doing the time travel thing, even Meg!) but I do own Derek, Kay, Anet and the Salazars (not that they're important).

Chapter 6: Nice to Make Your Acquaintance

Damn it!

(A/N: Sorry, gals, you might have to re-read some of the last chapter to remember what's going on.)

What is it with this nineteenth century bread and me? Is it like programmed to activate my gag reflexes or something!

Because I swear that was what I did after hearing Diego's pretentious voice. Gag uncontrollably on the bread Anet made, that is.

They all stared at me as I attempted to swallow discreetly. Kay looked at me in mild dismay and Derek cast me a sympathetic glance, helpfully offering me a cup of water.

How did Diego and Maria react? Oh, they were very nice about it actually.

Diego granted me a sneer and a lovely look of disgust, which I saw quite clearly over the cup's rim. Maria (her arm strung around Diego's waist, carelessly—talk about disgusting) gazed at me with an identical look on her perfectly ugly Look-at-Me-I'm-Pretty! face and, leaning towards Diego, muttered in a stage whisper, "What a buey mudo."

(A/N: 'Dumb ox.' Ouch!)

Hey! I held up a hand, about to demand what the hell she had just called me, but Kay didn't let me.

"Er, actually, Señor Diego, 'bout that inf—"

"Come," Diego interrupted, with a big cheesy smile plastered on his face, his pencil thin mustache twitching upward, "let us speak in the back, in privacy. ?" Kay glanced at his cousin who looked confused. Seems like Derek is just as baffled as I am. Why would Kay talk to Diego? Doesn't he know that Felix Diego is an evil slave owner who has no honor and would willingly kill an innocent attractive rancher in order to marry a conceited girl?

Apparently not, since Kay just went, "Uh, sure thing, then," and walked towards the kitchen with Diego moving to follow.

Before Diego left, he untangled Maria from him and purred, "Oh, yes, Maria, mi flor, wait here till I come back. If you don't wish to wait, I'll meet you at the Salazar's place. Perhaps you can find yourself anice vestido, si? Adiós."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I think people talk in different languages around me just because I'm not welcomed.

Maria looked somewhat forlorn at being abandoned in a tacky inn before Diego mentioned the Salazars, whoever they were. She had also ignored both Derek's presence and my own (unless you count the comment in Spanish that I assumed was pure evil) till this point in time. Suddenly perking up (and ignoring my warningglare that was aimed at her), she turned to me, eyes alight and teeth bared in what was supposed to be a kind smile. It looked painful.

"Hello, are you new in Carmel? I haven't seen you around here before. I think I would have remembered your...looks." Her voice was sickly sweet, syrupy, and had a Spanish accent, just how I remember it being when she had taunted me about Jesse being exorcised on the rooftop years in the future.

I could clearly tell that Maria was sizing up my 5'6" frame, from my feet, covered in a pair of old-fashioned shoes, borrowed from Anet, to my frizzy and untidy hair (erm, what can I say? One of my very few bad hair days! God, what did these people do without hair straighteners?) She made it no secret that what she saw amused her; a revolting sneer sprouted across her Spanish face.

Don't even go there, girlfriend. I can kick-box! Hi-yah!

Even if Maria gives the false appearance of kindness, some things never change.

Like her snobby attitude, for example.

I answered with a brief, "Yup. Just got here."

"And what is your name, miss?" She coaxed, speaking slowly as if I were retarded. She must've figured I surely was since I didn't jump at the chance to speak to her.

"It's Susannah." I said shortly.

To which she replied unexcitedly, "You just moved here? Oh, how…thrilling, Susannah. My name is Maria de Silva. My uncle and my father are both quite rich and we de Silva's are decedents from a royal Spanish bloodline."

Oh? No! Really?

I have a sincere feeling that she tries to throw that last sentence—the 'I'm Spanish royalty so kiss up to my magnificent wealth and beauty'—into each conversation she has with strangers. In a not very subtle way either.

Although the only thing I wanted to do was wipe that annoying smile off her face, flip my tangled hair (or the bird) at her and then strut away confidently, I didn't. Because that wouldn't be very tactful, now would it?

And what am I, if not tactful?

So, deciding to go along with her if not just for a moment, I raised then lowered my eyebrows in acknowledgement, muttered, "How…nice," mocking her sugary voice,and glowered at Derek who must be used to Maria's freakish arrogance since he was staring into the contents of his cup, absentmindedly. But even so I could see him trying not to smirk at my annoyance.

The git.

"Listen, Maria. I have to-"

Go, was what I was about to say, since she was bugging the brains out of me, but Maria's shoulders slumped unattractively, and she whined in this shrill and totally unpleasant voice that fully shredded my ear drums, "Oh, no, Susannah! Come and accompany me to the Salazar's home. They're this lovely Hispanic family and Mrs. Salazar does superb work with thread and needle." She took ahold of my wrist with her bony fingers and guided me towards the door. She reeked of orange blossoms. "You'd like her, I'm sure. She has six daughters. Or had, at least."

"Um, Maria?" My eyes began to moisten because of the pungent scent wafting off her dress and skin. What had the crazy girl done? Vigorously rubbed the orange blossom perfume into her hair and skin and then swallowed the rest of it?

"Yes, Susannah?"

"Could you, like, not touch me? You smell really…terrible." She let go of my wrist, immediately, her eyes narrowing in umbrage. Derek, who had tagged along after me like a lost puppy, snorted, but quickly turned it into a coughing fit upon seeing Maria's badgered look.

"It's orange blossoms." She said defensively, lifting her head up, haughtily. "I suppose it is a refined aroma."

I ignored what I assumed was a blow to my 'unrefined' character. But no way was I gonna let her get away easy on this. Because seriously. Every second that passed she began to smell more like ammonia than blossoms.

"Right, you just keep telling yourself that. So, what precisely do you mean by 'had' regarding that lady and where exactly are you trying to tow me?"

"Oh, well," Maria exited the inn and I trailed behind her feeling stupid for even being curious about the Salazar woman and even stupider for following a person who doubtlessly can't even find her way home at night. Andlet's see…and why else do I hate her? Oh yeah,she's gonna try to KILL MY BOYFRIEND.

"Poor Mrs. Salazar suffered tragically months ago. All of her daughters died, four from a nasty bout of flu and the other two were grief-stricken afterwards so they passed away too. Their ages ranged from 8 to 20. I'm going to visit Mrs. Salazar; she's selling all of her daughters clothing to pay for their funerals. You're welcome to join me."

Oooh, dead girls' clothes. Goodie.

I think I'm correct in assuming that Maria isn't very popular here in Carmel, seeing as I had just insulted her taste in perfume and in response she invited me to go shopping for dresses that itch and weigh more than Dopey. Oh yeah, and the dresses belonged to girls who had just died. Great way to find friends.How sad (not to mention sick) is that?

Or maybe it's a pity invite. You know, since I'm new and all. I'm probably the only girl in Carmel-by-the-Sea-1849 who hasn't learned how to eschew her yet.

Yeah, that's probably it.

I accepted her invite reluctantly, deciding it would be a good way to get reacquainted with Carmel (Derek came too, claiming that it was so he could point out important stuff to me, which he didn't even do). I was also hoping to learn more aboutMaria and Jesse's relationship and also her relationship with Diego, which seemed to be flourishing.

Which is something I found odd (and another reason why I resented Maria even more). That Felix and Maria were openly exhibiting PDA right in the inn Jesse was staying at. Call me crazy, but doesn't that seem a tad bit bold to you?

Or is it just me?

Five minutes into the walk guess who started talking about their bonnets? Let me give you a hint: it wasn't Derek.

Oh, boy.


Mrs. Salazar's house was huge. There were many beautiful glass windows and the whole house was made of dark sturdy wood, maybe mahogany. It was two stores tall and there was a balcony shaped like a horseshoe. The russet-colored house was set at the outskirts of Carmel, where viridian grassy plains dominated over dusty roads. A garden of various herbs and flowers were planted near the door, which had an intricate design carved into it. The house was absolutely gorgeous.

Maria smirked triumphantly, noticing my amazed gaze, which I quickly changed to one of polite interest. She ushered Derek and I inside, saying smugly, "It is a kingly house, isn't it? My father's house looks something like this, except it's bigger and we don't have a ridiculous garden."

Way to ruin a moment.

Inside the spectacular home was a pleasant old lady who greeted us (I assumed she was Mrs. Salazar, since despite her content smile, she was wearing a black dress and her eyes revealed her sadness and loss). Maria hugged Mrs. Salazar "comfortingly" and kissed her on the cheek while Derek kissed her glovedhand, complimented her on how well she and Mr. Salazar were coping and I simply gave her a smile. I guess I need to work on nineteenth century introductions.

Mrs. Salazar showed us to her oldest daughter's room, which was where she had placed all of her girls' clothes. The interior of the house was as nice as the exterior but I was a bit preoccupied, praying to God—who, as of late, seems to ignore my pleas—that I wouldn't come across one of the dead Salazar girls.

To my surprise and to Maria's as well, since she made a hissing noise between her teeth (was it a gasp? I really couldn't tell you), the room was full of girls, chattering and arguing. A large grandfather clock that told me it wasthree o'clock ticked away in a corner but could hardly be heard over the voices of girls. Dresses were strewn everywhere.

Can I just say that it was almost as bad as Christmas clearance sales at the mall?

Almost.

Maria scowled childishly like the big baby she was, and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the girls, probably upset that she wouldn't be getting first picks anymore. Derek on the other hand grinned roguishly while gazing around the room, whistled once, and then called, "Alita, my dove! I though you'd be here. How are you?"

A girl who appeared my age carrying a few dresses in her arms spun around puzzled, trying tosingle out who had called her name. She had light brown wavy hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate. Just like Jesse.

Recognizing Derek, she let out a small shout and ran towards him. Well, ran over to him as fast as her light greenlayered dress allowed her to. Which wasn't very fast. She looked like she was power walking actually. And not even that fast. But whatever.

So, this is the legendary Alita, then. Huh. Jesse's hotter.

(A/N: That probably sounds wrong, but it's the truth! I can't tell a lie!)

Maria shuffled farther away from the happy pair who was currently hugging; Alita's handful of dresses caught between their bodies. Maria grumbled something about idiotic cousins as she investigated the many other dresses with other girls, some as young as Jack, some older than me. Two girls emerged from out of the fray looking at Maria and then at Anita and Derek, mildly creeped out.

The two Hispanic girls exchanged significant glances, eyebrows rose slightly in an amused gesture that I immediately recognized as one of Jesse's trademark looks.

The older of the two girls whose hair was hidden behind a baby blue bonnet that matched her dress shook her bonnet-donned head in Alita's direction and announced, "Mother would not be pleased to hear about this," to her younger sis.

The younger one, carrying dresses that were probably her sibling's choices, wrinkled her nose sadly. "No, and neither would Jesse be very happy. But that's why we won't be telling them." Seeing her sister's doubtful look she added, "Right, Isabel?"

Isabel shot her sister a look that I read as 'As if,' in 21st century lingo but in 19th century talk may be labeled as ' Ah, how mistaken you are, my dear fool.' But before she could respond verbally, her little sister questioned, "Who are you, miss?"

Since I was eavesdropping on their conversation (pretending to examine various items of clothing, that must be considered the height of fashion in the late 1840s), I couldn't tell whom they were talking to. That is until a little hand patted my arm softly and an equally soft voice said curiously, "Hello, miss. Have you recently moved here? I haven't seen you before." Then I realized that the "miss" was me.

"Uhh…" I fumbled awkwardly, gripping an ugly vomit green lace garment in my hands.

I had a feeling that eavesdropping has always been a vice, even in the eighteen hundreds. And I didn't want to make, you know, a bad first impression on two of Jesse's sisters. Three, counting Alita, but she seemed too preoccupied with Derek to notice that her kid sisters were talking to a freak garbed in pink. Aka me.

So I was at a loss for words. Obviously.

If this had been the era of Progress and Technology instead of the era of Eureka-I-found-gold! and someone had suddenly strolled up to me asking who I was and where I came from, I would totally have gotten all hostile, like Demi totally would if someone told her she could do better than Ashton and woulda said, "Excuse me, that is none of your business," and walk away huffily.

But seeing as I'm not Demi and this isn't the 21st century all I did was say meekly, "Um, yes, as a matter of fact I am. I'm Susannah. How'd you know anyway?" I asked the younger girl.

The thirteen year old looked proud. "Oh, I could just tell. For one thing you look unfamiliar and you seem to be alone. And judging by your response, I'd say you have a different accent than those who live here. You don't speak Spanish, do you?"

I shook my head.

"I thought so."

Isabel rolled her eyes (something I thought that these nineteenth century folk weren't even allowed to do) at her sister and said not without some exasperation, "Oh, you can just ignore Neva, Susannah. She gets quite annoying and bothersome when she's inwhat I callher 'intellectual mode'."

I snorted at Isabel's comment, about to explainthat I know what she meant since I also have a geeky smarty-pants little sibling who'll try to clone guppies in the bathtub if we let him. But then I realized something. An odd something it was to, let me tell ya. I don't know why I didn't figure it out sooner. I must've been too overwhelmed and exhausted from time travel (is there such a thing as back-in-time jetlag?) to notice.

Whatever it was, what I finally realized was that "annoying and bothersome" Paul had the ability to change the past and could make it so Jesse hadn't died, meaning that I would never meet him at all.

You are probably rolling your eyes just like Isabel, going slowly, "No duh, Suze. You can do that, too," and I totally know that. I do. But knowing Paul, he will draw it out. All the taunting me and stuff.

He's already started, as you well know. 'Member that little threatening talk he had with Jesse at the inn? That 'I'm an atheist, sir' mumbo jumbo. What the hell was that about?

I wouldn't put it past him to do it again, either. Paul with his teasing. He can't help it. It's a habit of his already. Tormenting Jesse and me, I mean. He's perfected that skill countless times before. What with exorcising Jesse and that bouquet of roses signed, "love" and that oh-I-could've-sworn-you-left-it-on-my-bed-the-other-day act.

Paul could seriously teach a course on crushing people's hopes and dreams. He could call it 'Ruining Lives (Particularly the Lives of Ghosts and Fellow Mediators or as I Like to Say, "Shifters") 101.'

Except you can't actually fit that on a plaque, can you? You could use that really tiny size 10font but still.

Never mind.

Shaking me out of these distressing and wacky thoughts, Doc's twin, I mean, Neva, went, "Have you met our other sister? Here, I'll introduce you," and dragged me over to Alita and Derek who had just finished swapping spit.

Honestly, I thought girls were considered easy and skanky if they went around kissing boys in public.

Maybe that's why Jesse wouldn't approve of Alita and Derek, like Neva had stated earlier.

Also a good reason why we've never made it past 2nd base.

After making acquaintances with 3/5s of Jesse's sisters I told them that Derek and Maria were showing me around, curious of how they'd respond to the Maria thing.

They didn't disappoint.

"Maria de Silva, you mean?"I nodded, innocently at this question.

"You don't like her, do you?" Neva asked immediately, her geekiness vanishing.

Alita elbowed her and hissed something at her in Spanish. Most likely a scolding. I know one when I hear it, even in another language. Though Sleepy, my oldest stepbrother sleeps 24/7 he can scold people (namely me) like there's no tomorrow, 'specially when you borrow a certain person's car and forget to fill it with gas or put the keys back in their rightful place. Not that I've ever done that.

"Not really, she seems a bit pompous," I answered mildly. Mild because Maria was really just a skanky, prissy, bitchy, ferret-faced, pompous murderer.

In my opinion at least.

My feelings toward Maria must be unanimous since the three girls gave me warm smiles. Derek looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, it's not really gentlemanly of me to say anything slanderous of a lady," Derek began. "But—"

"Maria's a fool," Isabel informed me, hotly. Looking around the room to make sure that Maria wasn't within hearing distance (she wasn't- Maria, it seemed, had disappeared), she added, "Sadly, she's our cousin and soon she'll be our sister-in-law. We didn't know much about her until a few months ago when her father and ours arranged for Maria to marry our brother, Hector. And Maria's father owns a good portion of Salinas and our father really approved the marriage so of course our brother couldn't refuse. The arrangements have been made for January 8th."

Acting like all of this was new information to me (I had only not known about that marriage date- Jan 8th? So soon!), I feigned a look of shock and disgust—it was pretty disgusting, once you think about it, though. Marrying your own cousin. Especially if it's Maria. Ahh! I'm in hell! —and said, "Oh, wow. Derek hadn't told me that."

Derek looked at me, the first time in twenty minutes he had looked at anybody but Alita, and grinned. "Oh, I hadn't? I just didn't feel like ruining your hopeful dreams about Hector, that's all."

Lucky for me Alita had begun to speak right after Derek so nobody had a chance to ask me what he had meant by that last part. I had an idea that Isabel was particularly protective of her big bro and wouldn't appreciate any of my romantic feelings towards Jesse.

"Yes," Alita said, "Good have mercy for Jesse, our poor brother. Maria should simply stay with that filthy slave runner of hers, if the rumors are true. They deserve each other. She'll only disgrace Jesse if she marries him. Maria is hardly good enough to be apart of Jesse's future."

Isabel muttered, "Nobody's good enough for our Jesse," confirming my suspicion.

Then, Neva, who had seen the grandfather clock I had noticed earlier, told us all that it was almost five o'clock and if they were late for supper again Father would give each of them two lashings with his belt. "Yes, even you, Alita," she added when Alita wrinkled her nose.

Whoa. Maybe if Mr. And Mrs. Slater had disciplined Paul better when he was a child (given him a few lashings) he wouldn't be running around now threatening hot girls to spend time with him or else he'd off their hot ghostly boyfriends.

Just maybe.

So I made my farewells with the three ladies who went to go pay for their clothes and offer their condolences to Mrs. Salazar. Before he left, Derek realized that Maria was gone.

"You won't have trouble getting back to the inn, will you? Alita asked me to escort her and her sisters back to the ranch. You know how to get back, right?"

No, not really. But no way would I admit that, even to Derek, who I consider my friend. "Uh, sure, I don't need a chaperone." Coughing meaningfully I added, "Unlike you."

He grinned cheerfully. "I'll take that as a compliment, thanks. See you back at the inn then, Susannah. Tell Kay I'll be back soon. Adiós." And then he and the de Silva sisters were gone.

The people who had been here earlier had gradually departed and only a few gowns and a middle aged woman with a whining child remained. Okay then. Time for me to hit the road.

Figuratively speaking of course.


Outside it was cold and dark. Past dusk. The sky had already shifted from blue to that rainbow stage of pink, orange, red and lavender all mixed together. As I walked away from the fancy house the sky was darkening bit by bit to gray and within half an hour it would be pitch black.

Seeing as it's winter and there are no streetlights on or even invented here I thought it would be a very good idea to hurry down the dirt road that I assumed lead to the Farr From Home Inn. You never know what's lurking in the darkness, after all. Especially if there's no streetlights or electricity to help you know.

And there might like be a street curfew or something. I could get shot for breaking the light's out after dark law. That wouldn't be very fun.

After you get used to it though, the no lights on at night, only having the stars to light the way, and none of the traffic noises disturbing the chirping of crickets or hooting of owls, it's actually very peaceful and nice. The night, I mean.

At least until you hear a quick scuffling noise and something huge crashes right on top of you, hurling you to the ground.

Then it's not so nice.


A/N: Well, what do you think? Sorry it took me ages! But I've finished rereading Twilight and it has inspired me to finish up this chapter, which has been lying half done in my computers files. Also my computer has only recently permitted me to access the Internet. Whatever, Dell Computer. Anymore of this funny stuff and I swear I'm switching to Macintosh Apples. I swear.

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