Disclaimer: You know the drill!
A/N: Sorry this took so long people! I've had a little writer's block, so this chapter came out shorter than I wanted, but I guess I'll have to live with it. A massive thank you to TheMortition! I'm sure Esther would love to marry you if you existed in her universe! Although, I think San Valentino and our newly resurrected Lorcan might have a few things to say about that.
I hated myself for being so naively stupid. I mean, I've done some pretty stupid shit before, but I think the events that happened only about twenty minutes ago topped them all off. It was a pretty good job that Lorcan hadn't been raised in the same era as me, or things would be twice as awkward for us both. I don't know what I felt back then, but all I know is that it was powerful. Too powerful. And powerful emotions like that scare me to be honest with you. I can feel my throat tightening and feel incapable of saying anything, even after twenty minutes of running the scenario over and over in my head.
Lorcan is beautifully oblivious to the awkwardness and I like it that way. It was better to leave him to his own thoughts of how to get his head around the new world than bring up the awkward thing that almost happened between us. On pure impulse, I take hold of his hand, smiling a little to myself; I feel his fingers link with my own, and a jellybean pink blush shoots across my face.
I can hear the sound of the vampoari talking, even from here, and pull my hand away quick as lightning, as if an electrical voltage has shot from his hand, to my hand, and up my arm. He jumps like he's been hit by lightning too and stares at me, a mixture of bewilderment and hurt painted across his stubbly face. The two of us stop walking and stare at each other, guilt making my throat get even dryer, so dry it hurts to swallow, and beads of perspiration begin to form on my forehead. A cold sweat, oh joy, cold sweats make me even more uncomfortable than most other forms of sweat. I feel it trickling down the back of my neck, down my bad, underneath my expensive dress and shiver.
"You haven't do anything wrong!" I say quickly as he opens his mouth. "It's just…I don't want people to get the wrong idea." Droplets of water are still drip, drip dripping off the ends of my hair, splashing almost silently against the forest floor below us. My hair is still wet, but his much shorter is already beginning to dry. I pick up a lock and swing it round the other side of my shoulder, so it's in front of my face, dripping more water down my cleavage. Luckily he doesn't notice this.
"What idea?" He asks, his voice totally innocent again, almost shy, totally adorable.
"We're friends…" I say, my smile kind-maybe a little patronizing, which I hate. He seems to detect that and gives me a severely unimpressed look. "Okay! Sorry, didn't mean to be all patronizing!" I say quickly, backtracking so he isn't hurt. "But…If we hold hands, it looks like we're…Involved. Like, in a relationship, boyfriend and girlfriend terms." His facial features soften and he cocks his head to the side, as if trying to figure out everything, but he does it quickly because he nods his face calm. "Something could happen, maybe…" I mumble, blushing even more. Lorcan's face breaks into a smile, glinting almost as brightly as his earrings, which are captivating when the moonlight hits them.
"I'll keep that in mind," He says, and I feel my jellybean pink face drop into crimson, as the blood surges back again. He looks like he wants to take hold of my hand again, but he doesn't-knowing what I've said, and I silently thank him for it. He's such a contrast to other boys, a lovely contrast, and I figure although women weren't perceived as equals in ancient times, men had to treat them with at least a certain amount of respect.
After shooting me a quick, beautiful grin, he walks forwards, his pace even quicker than usual and walks through the large amount of greenery at the edge of the forest, only to stop dead. A car. A new, gigantic, smack in the face for him. His eyes are shiny, like he's in a state of euphoric high, and his mouth is wide open, gawping at the car like he's in Heaven or some similar place. His entire body's gone still; muscles frozen in place, the vampoari are looking at him. Half-curious, half-amused.
"You're little friends' reactions are nothin' short of adorable Esther," Valentino is the first to speak. "He'll certainly keep me entertained." I felt myself bristle and my fists balled, my raven like eyes turning into a mirror image of the bird they remind people of, and I glower.
"You will not so much as breathe in his direction, or I'll nail you in a coffin quicker than you can bite me!" All the vampoari stare at me, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. Not in fear, but I've just realised something totally shocking. I've been in Carcey Vale for under a month, and already I've found out I can raise dead people, have to look after a boy older than me, from ancient times, and work for a bunch of bloodthirsty creatures. Ho-ly fuck! This is like some insane dream, I shouldn't be doing this. I should be worrying about GCSE's and dating, not vampoari-creatures and making sure my new friend/responsibility doesn't accidentally-on-purposely kill someone for giving him a judgemental look.
Part of me is now beginning I could be more normal, but the rest of me isn't. Part of me loves the excitement, the adventure, the sense of intrigue, my powers; it's all like some amazing series. And I'm the lead! I suddenly feel important, and that feeling is frightening, but also wonderful. I love-hate this feeling both at the same time. It's the oddest sensation I've ever felt, but one of the best-worst too! But the edginess of the overly bitchy Crispin and his odd, veiled, anonymous companion is still making my skin prickle. Should I bring him up?
I have no idea how long I've been thinking when San Valentino grabs hold of my windpipe, slamming my into one of the trees, his face stony with rage. I can feel the air sucking out of my lungs as he puts his mouth very close to my ear. I can feel my body shaking. "Do not, ever, talk to me like that again young madam." He hisses, fangs inches away from my skin, and I swallow back my pride, nodding meekly.
"Valentino!" Beauté hisses, her face flushed with anger, making her look almost human. "Let. Her. Go. She was just doing what she was told," she puts her hands on her hips, and her own fangs are bared, snarling almost silently. "The boy is her responsibility! She can talk to you like that about him and that only." Valentino sucks his fangs back in, sulkily, and backs away from me.
"Um…Ma'am?" I asked, trying to keep a lid on my temper. Beauté looks up at me, nodding, a look of interest on her face. "Something really…Well, weird happened on the way back here."
"What?" She asks urgently.
"I met this vampoari woman in a black widow type outfit, and a flamboyant guy named Crispin who called me a 'bitch', on for the vampoari to tell me that they were sorry and disappear." For the first time I'd seen it, Beauté Nacré's face showed signs of worry, not quiet fear, but close enough-as if the name and descriptions meant something to her. The 'pearly beauty' shares a meaningful look with Decha who nods, as if he too knows what's going on, and even the sulking San Valentino acknowledges something big is happening. Something bad.
"Can you please explain what's going on?" I ask hurriedly. "I may not be too experienced in your world yet, but I know bad things might happen when people act like this. All funny looks and meaningful stares." Another quick exchange of glances between the vampoari, giving me a chance to check on how Lorcan's doing. The teenage warrior is rooted to the spot, staring at the car like it's his Christmas present; I touch his arm briefly, and he jolts awake, eyes hazy like he's been in a dream. I smile reassuringly at him, feeling Cindy's glowering eyes on me. Someone's jealous.
After a few looks, it's 'the power' aka Decha who decides I should know why they've all gone so quiet. "Crispin Michaels, the flamboyant little faggot you met in the woods, is a necromancer who works for a particularly cruel vampoari named 'Serse Ripper'. 'Serse' translates into 'heart' in Polish, so he is literally the heart ripper." I swallowed, staring, eyes wide with horror. "He works with an as equally cruel, but perhaps more conceited vampoari named Ingrid Westerhousen," he pronounced the 'w' as a 'v' and I guessed Ingrid must be German. "He has a considerable sized following of about 8 others. The one you saw with Crispin is Yvetta, she isn't too old."
"Yes," I agree. "I only read her as peaking 150 at the most, she isn't too powerful, and I think she guessed I sensed it, which is why she backed off. If Serce Ripper or Ingrid had been sent, they probably would've pressed."
"Exactly," Decha nods at me. "Maybe Serse was just being arrogant, but the point is, Yvetta made Crispin her human servant when she herself had only been one of us for about 70 years. But after all that time on earth, Crispin's powers haven't improved by any factor." He sniffs, obviously unimpressed by the bitchy boys none improving abilities. "He's grown lazy, and it very much shows. He no longer practices, yet he expects to be extremely powerful, arrogant little shit." He hisses, fangs shooting out.
Beauté Nacré places one delicately manicured hand on his shoulder and pats it gently. "Getting angry at the idiot child does not do anything for us," she sighs, clearly bored. "Let us leave this place before Monsieur Grady realises of our presence and comes out to find us."
"I thought we were allowed on here?" I ask her, feeling extremely worried now.
"Only as long as Marcella was raising the experiment," I hated her for calling Lorcan an 'experiment' but didn't voice my opinions; I'd already angered one vampoari tonight. Beauté Nacré might as well eat my internal organs if I insulted her. "Now we are trespassing, so, we must leave." And with that, she somehow manages to look stepping into the Pimp Mobile, look elegant. This time she gets in the front, next to the unseen driver, alongside Decha (who politely bows at me. True gentleman), and San Valentino (who flashes a fangy grin. Smug little asshole.).
Lorcan stares at me with wonder and amazement. "Come on," I say. "It won't bite." Cindy looks eager to step forward and talk to him, but knows he can't understand her; so she just stares like a love-struck puppy. Lorcan, however, is oblivious to this and just walks past her, getting into the back. I walk past her, flashing her a quick, sickeningly sugary smile, and get in, sitting next to him. Marcella sits opposite us, looking ill, but still warm and gentle as ever.
"Your hair is wet," she notes, gesturing at me.
"We went swimming," is all I can say to respond. "I can't swim to save my life, and Lorcan offered to teach me. Simple I guess." Marcella smiles warmly at us, leaning into the seat as Cindy sits next to her, glowering. "Do you need to rest?" I ask her.
"Yes, Niña," she sighs, almost painfully. "The illness grows faster every day, I do not have much time to teach you all I know, we will have to work extra hard." I nod at her, aware that 'extra hard' means I'm going to be under a mountain of stress and pressure, but I think I can manage it, if I try my hardest. As I think this, Marcella gently lies back against the seat, closes her eyes, and I can tell she's falling asleep. A much earned rest for the powerful voodoo woman.
Lorcan is staring directly ahead at Cindy, who's making lovesick eyes at him, although the young warriors face shows all the signs of confusion and bewilderment, before turning to me. "Why is that girl dressed so awfully? She looks ridiculous." I have to suppress a laugh at his insulting of Cindy, which makes him look even more confused.
"The fashionally retarded think it looks good," I explain. "Cynthia is one of those people."
"Cynthia…" Lorcan try's out her name too. "Do you know what Cynthia means?"
"No, sorry," is all I can say. "Hopefully it means 'jealous deceitful cow'." Lorcan stares at me, looking twice as confused as before, as if to say 'why's that?' "Tell you later," I promise, smiling at him; he smiles back, earrings jangling as he leans back into the velvet material behind him, enjoying the soft sensation on his deeply weathered skin.
"Who makes this?" He asks, his voice almost a whisper. "It's amazing!" He looks like he's in heaven, or the closest thing to it. "There was nothing like this when I was first alive! It's wonderful!" If this is his response to velvet, I wonder what he'll think of stuff like television. But one thing at a time. I can only cope with so much hyperactivity in one day. I shake my head and shrug.
"Can't give you an answer there sorry," Lorcan simply shrugs at my answer and proceeds to stare out the Pimp Mobiles blacked out window, taking in his new environment. Every once in a while, his eyes would go wide and he'd look like a kid at Christmas, but he remained silent. Simply staring out of the window, into the night.
The journey was taking longer than I'd originally anticipated. We'd been on the road for at least an hour; I'd asked Decha myself and he'd told me. It made me wonder where Marcella lived, but the car kept stopping, so I figured we had places to go. Those places' identities however, I was unsure of.
Marcella has finally awoken from a long rest and is staring between the two of us, a soft smile on her lips, but I can't place where it'd originated from. Maybe she finds our relationship 'cute' or something like that. I pray she doesn't think something had happened during our swimming trip; that will just make another relationship of mine awkward. Besides, I have questions to ask about the 'heart ripper' and his subordinate, Miss Westerhousen, and what their agenda with us (more specifically me) was.
"So um…" I clear my throat and immediately feel Marcella, Lorcan and Cindy looking at me. I am beginning to despise my translation powers; it means everyone knows what I'm saying, and I can't have any privacy from any of them. Life's a bitch, big time. "Is there anything else on Serse that I should know? Seeing as I'm kind of the prize everyone's fighting over…"
Marcella laughs weakly but her face goes earnest in a split second. "The polish Heart Ripper works for a powerful being…" She pauses to cough weakly, leaning back against her seat as if she's trying to let it consume her. "A hag." The pause clearly means I should be shocked but I have no clue what a hag is. "Old, powerful, vicious little beings…" She says the words like a bitter taste. "Only one left. A being called Moroven du Sang Contaminé , it means 'of dirty blood' in French. Over a million years old. Born somewhere in what is now France-explaining the name. And she has a whole array of cronies." Another weak cough. "From a witch shapeshifter to a child rapist vampoari." I feel my skin break into a fresh rash of goosebumps.
"Interesting crowd he hangs around with…" Is all I can bring myself to mutter? A witch shapeshifter and a paedophile vampire? GREAT… "Will I have to fight them?" I ask cautiously. Of course I get the negative answer.
"Probably," Marcella sighs, propping herself up with several pillows she must have bought with her. "If you continue to refuse their invitation; Serse will see no other option but to take you by force. Which means a fight will happen, and many people will die." I feel another weight slamming down on my shoulders, pressing itself down suffocating, as if the more of my bones and will it breaks, the better.
I glance nervously at Lorcan, wondering what the young warriors response will be if a war broke out between us and Serse Ripper. I have a horrible niggle the young warrior's response will be that of violence. Especially because Serse is showing so much interest in me, it'll be a giant miracle if he doesn't go directly for me, and if he dares, Lorcan will live up to his promise. He'll fight to the end for me. Most women find bollocks like this 'romantic' or 'heart-warming' but I find it a guilt trip that will never fade. Having some die for you isn't glamorous or romantic; it's an everlasting guilt that you should be the dead one. Not them.
"Do not worry about the boy," Marcella ushers, making me look at her and away from Lorcan. "I understand your fears, but they are unnecessary. I will ensure the boy doesn't harm anyone or himself whilst you attend school to get your education."
"Won't he attend school?" I ask her, feeling confused on why Lorcan isn't going to get an education. "He'll need to learn about the world, it's changed so much, school's the only place that-"
"No." Marcella interrupts me and I stare at her, wide-eyed. "He is not going to be able to convey to society. He is from such an alien time to now; he'd only get himself in trouble. Last time I checked with your generation, earrings for boys weren't too in fashion, and if another boy made a comment about them…I'm sure you've guessed his reaction would be that to beat the commenter senseless." All I can do is nod. "So he'll stay at home with me, I'll teach him how to speak English, and about the world, whilst you get your education."
The car draws to a hault and she looks at me again, as if telling me I can get out. "What is his name, niña?" She asks as I lean across Lorcan to open the door.
"Lorcan," I say, and yours truly looks at me, obviously interested now that his names been mentioned. "I don't have a surname." I shoot him a shy, somewhat nervous smile. "I just need to tell Marcella your name, nothing too scary or bad." I step over him, careful not to stand on him, and open the Pimp Mobile's door, stepping onto a rash of grey gravel stones, leading up a driveway to a house. Wow. It's extremely impressive.
Marcella's house is as large as an American sorority or fraternity type place. Made out of some expensive looking stone, I can't place the type of. Maybe granite, maybe lime, I can't be certain. All I know is it must've cost an arm and a leg to build this place. There is a nice porch made of new white wood that goes well, with several hanging flower baskets littering it, lilies sticking out of them. I wonder if Marcella had had kids who'd lived here, explaining the largeness of the house.
I look back into the car and hold my hand out to Lorcan who takes it, stepping out of the car, looking at the house with a mesmerised gleam in his eyes. I stare at Marcella, who simply hands me a pair of keys, which I proceed to gawp at dumbly. "Aren't you coming with us?" I ask her, voice weak with confusion.
"I need to go to your house and collect your things," she replies weakly. "Well, the vampoari will collect them, but I'll be the one to explain the situation to your parents. I have several spare rooms, chose one of your liking. And it'd be best if Lorcan stayed in your room tonight."
"What…" I gawp at her, clearly exasperated and horrified. Sure, I've accepted babysitter duty, but letting a male SLEEP IN MY BED? No. I am definitely not comfortable with that. "He…He can't."
"I'm afraid it's the only way he can settle in, and there is no way he would sleep in my bed."
"But…" And that's when I get stuck; I have no actual reason to argue against her idea. Sure I'd be incredibly uncomfortable, but that's no real reason to say no. "That just isn't normal!" Is the only thing I can bring myself to use as an argument. And it's a spectacularly awful one at that. "It'll make things awkward!"
"Awkwardness is simply something we need to come," Marcella replies simply. You make it sound so simple, my mind hisses bitterly, but I try and ignore it. Combined with the events that happened at the lake earlier this evening, or maybe morning, I have no clue of the time-things might just go into overdrive. I have no clue what signals that might set off for either of us. But I have no real argument, no actual, definitive reason for him not to sleep in my bed, so I have to agree.
"If he touches me somewhere I don't like though, he's on the floor." I add, causing Marcella to laugh-a warm, gentle sound that immediately makes me like her even more. She's like a sweet old grandmother.
"I hope you have a peaceful night's sleep, niña," is all she replies with. "If anything happened to do with Serse Ripper, or his friends, call Fangs Out-the club our undead friends run, it's on speed dial on my phone." I nod, to show I understand. "My son, Paolo, might pop by in the morning. He knows you are due to arrive, and he won't disturb you. He might have his son, Fernando, with him."
"Okay," I say with a small smile. "I promise I'll be polite as possible. Is it okay if I use your phone to ring my friend, Violet? She might be worried about me."
"Of course," Marcella smiles back, and then shuts the car door as the Pimp Mobile heads off into the night.
Lorcan and I stare briefly at each other. "Well…" I say with an awkward smile. "Let's go in, shall we?" Part of me is dying to have a shower, but I decide to do that in the morning, if he's still asleep. I don't want something even more awkward to happen. Lorcan simply nods, and we make our way across the gravel, and up the steps, facing the front door.
Part of me doesn't want to unlock the door, part of me wants to run back home, demand to stay, but it isn't my choice. Not anymore.
Ah! Awkwardness! How do I live without you every second of the day?