Sorry about this, but I've never been good at writing these sorts of chapters (ones that take place in school), because of this, I've decided to do this chapter in two parts, just so that I can partly maintain my target of posting a chapter once a month. I promise that I'll try to get part two of this up as quickly as I possibly can.

Further apologies once again to whoever has enough patience to put up with this.

Chapter 3 – part one

Natalie knew that there are things in this world that cannot be explained. That there are creatures that live in the shadows, things that science could not explain, only deny. Her parents had told her this since she was a little girl and had duly taught her varying methods of combat; they had told her of her families' history and how once they had fought along side a spirit sent by the Creature itself to protect mankind.

Then her Grandparents told her of the spirits betrayal of them. How he had returned from Hell only to murder millions of innocent people.

"And though we all do sin Natalie, that does not make us bad people, but he no longer cared and slaughtered hundreds upon thousands of innocent people, even his mate."

Natalie knew that it wasn't uncommon for some demons to kill their mates after… certain events had transpired, but she also knew that many of them 'mated' for life. The Ghost Rider was theorised to be included with these as it was his hosts that formed relationships and attachments to others but never the Rider, not after the murder of its 'wife' anyway.

But she had also been taught that there were those among the demon populous that were harmless and this stretched out into other apparitions.

"We only hunt those that kill the innocent, those that wreak destruction across this plain. All others, we shall protect."

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Caelan wasn't quiet sure what to make of the school as he stood outside the entrance. It was certainly… big, very big. He briefly wondered about whether or not he really wanted to enter the large building, crammed with hormonal teenagers around his age. Then he shook his head and took a deep breath.

Why are you even doing this? You've been through this several times before so why bother worrying? Caelan thought with a shrug as he began the seemingly endless journey to the front door.

As he walked across the tarmac pavement up to the entrance, he glanced nervously around himself. Normal, everyday teenagers, some of which were his own age, surrounded him. They chatted among themselves and none of them paid him any mind as they talked to their friends.

After pushing the glass double doors open he crossed the small distance to reception where a woman with naturally blonde hair, as shown by the roots, now dyed a light pinkish-purple, sat typing away at a computer whilst talking to the parent of a sick student.

"It's perfectly fine Miss Levans. I hope Jim gets well soon." The receptionist, whose nametag told Caelan that her name was Ms Kale caught sight of him and smiled, "Alright Miss Levans, bye now." Ms Kale looked up at Caelan, intertwined her fingers and said, "Morning, what can I do for you?"

"Um, my name's Caelan Abrahams. My mum said that you'd give me my timetable." He explained shyly.

The receptionist nodded and reached down for something then passed him a piece of paper, "That's your time table and if you give me a minute I'll get you an organiser and a map of the school."

"Thank you."

Caelan put one of his hands into his left pocket and fiddled with a chain hidden within the denim. It was a present from his father, given to him when he was about seven or eight. Forged from his fathers' flame, it was near indestructible, an everlasting symbol of the love and care his father had for him, immune to the sands of time. The chain itself was silver – or at least something similar, in truth he wasn't entirely sure – and ended in what Caelan mused was either his family crest or the symbol of the spirit of justice and vengeance. He was leaning more towards his father's symbol due to… events some several thousand years previously.

"Excuse me?" The receptionist said, calling him out of his musing.

He shook his head, "Sorry about that."

She held out a piece of paper to him, thick black lines and annotations illustrating the walls of the building and each individual floor. M26, C13, H21 he read as he skimmed over the rooms and their names.

"Thank you." Caelan smiled shyly at her.

She smiled back and said, "Your first class is with Mrs Evans in M12."

"Thank you." Caelan said and walked briskly through the corridor to M12.

Stopped. Looked at his map. And walked back the way he'd came.

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Mrs Evans was a religious studies teacher in her mid forties with already greying hair. Lessons with her weren't exactly enthralling as she favoured slide shows and sheets upon sheets of paper over learning techniques such as role play or group work. However, this didn't bother most of her students, as Mrs Evans was a popular, well-liked tutor. Although on Friday's during the days' final lesson it could become somewhat tiresome.

Today was a crisp, fresh Monday morning. Most of the large windows in the main building of the school were open so as to let the dry, fresh air in – the air conditioning had been broken the day before and the caretaker was off ill. The light that shone in through the windows created a glare across the tables that shone into most people's eyes but after years of this, it no longer bothered them.

Mrs Evans had just begun telling the students what topics they would be learning that year when, a boy, who was tall, tall and thin, with tanned skin, piercing blue eyes and mahogany hair poked his head into the room and asked,

"Is this Mrs Evan's class?"

The nervousness in his voice was barely concealed and so audible through out the entire room.

Mrs Evans simply nodded and beckoned the boy in. "And you are?"

"Caelan Abrahams." was the answer.

Mrs Evans inspected him briefly before instructing him to take the seat at the desk next to Natalie's. As he passed her, Natalie felt something deep within the darkest and most primitive part of her brain spark, come alive without warming, and a sudden, almost uncontrollable feel of utter wrongness over took her.