Disclaimer: I do not own Demonata or any of the original ideas, characters or setups, Darren Shan does. I do however own any original concepts which are featured in this fanfic, so please do not steal-or ask if you wish to borrow! Sharing is something I'm all into, as long as I've been asked first.
A/N: JEEZ-US CHRIST, people! I am so sorry I have been gone for so fucking long but guess what? I've had yet more ISA's (science tests based around practical's), history assessments, a H-U-G-E English controlled assessment on comparing the literary texts Macbeth and Frankenstein, and a textiles project based around doing lots of sewing. Didn't help that the creativity pool dried up and I almost did what the brilliant Ryan Murphy does-having an idea, then having another I find more 'fun' or 'interesting' and switching. But I got a grip, and this morning before school, inspiration struck! From about 6 AM to 8: 10, I wrote four thousand words and then added an extra two thousand after doing all of my various homework's, coursework and excess school shizzle. Zom-B is making such a more relevant point now, and several concepts you'll see in this will be important. I might do a Zom-B fanfic later on, when most of the exam chaos has calmed down, but I am not making promises to you wonderful people that I cannot keep. My mock exams are in April, and once they are up, I will hopefully be a lot more reliable! I am so sorry about this people-but I have finally been a competent woman!
Part of me felt like I was playing some crazy Resident Evil style game; only if I died in this universe, a 'YOU ARE DEAD. Do you want to continue?', with the little 'Yes' and 'No' buttons below this question, won't flash up on the screen. Because there was no screen. Because it wasn't a game. That is real life-or the insanity I'm calling life currently.
My mind jumped back to thoughts of my family: mum, dad, Evie. I couldn't help but wonder what they were doing, how they were feeling, what life at home had become now that I've been whisked away into another world; having people like Bill-E and Lorcan with me provides a limited comfort, but I still need my family. I couldn't help but remember all the times I'd threatened to run away after an argument with my mum-dad never bothered telling me off; I'd scream at her, tell her I wasn't coming back, swear I meant it that time and storm out. I'd usually sulk down at the small park near our house, letting my anger simmer away and wait until the stupid comments I'd made began to fade away, letting myself feel guilty for telling everyone in the household that I 'hated them' and 'wished them dead'. Part of me wanted to back out by then, tell everyone I wanted to go home, be normal again. Funny, isn't it? The irony of how you want to have cool powers, right up until you actually get them. Then, all of a sudden, they don't seem to fun anymore…
Bill-E was nattering like mad to the person leading the expedition-a Commander Miriam Prentice; I'd been somewhat surprised when I found out the highly dangerous group was being headed by a woman, and Lorcan had practically had a heart attack when he met her, but luckily he hadn't made any comments. Not like she would've understood them anyway. The language barrier was still there, and I knew Marcella would need to sort that one out soon if Lorcan was ever going to adapt to the modern world. The Commander herself was everything else I traditionally tagged onto the army; she had cut short black hair-a boyish cut, which I remembered several boys at my school back in Newcastle had frequented having-with naturally tanned, yet heavily weather-beaten skin, and an ugly, albeit faded white scar running diagonally from her chin to just below her left eye. She had slightly watery blue eyes and was dressed in a grey-green pair of trousers with a matching jacket and black boots. Her fellow soldiers dressed similarly.
Oddly enough, the Commander seemed to enjoy Bill-E's chattering and constant array of questions, seeming to have taken him under her wing. Her four soldiers: Benita, Shelley, Cedrick and Mack, whom she'd only introduced on first names, walked alongside her armed with their machine, hand and various other forms of guns strapped onto their backs and thighs, waiting in silence. We'd come across several zombies during the walk around the school, but they'd been shot dead before I'd even properly got a look at them. I wasn't exactly complaining, but part of me wanted to know what I was facing; just so I didn't approach one, thinking they were a human, only to be bit.
Benita had offered Lorcan a gun when they'd first met but I declined for him; Lorcan handling a gun was the last thing I wanted to be worrying about-most of the worry coming from the fact I had a horrible feeling he'd most likely end up shooting himself in the leg or something. Marcella had assigned him a Celtic sword, which she'd apparently 'borrowed' from an ancient history museum somewhere in Puerto Rico, and he seemed to have immediately gotten a confidence boost. He had an almost swagger to his walk, like he felt so much more at ease with something he associated with his own time. That didn't stop him from insisting on walking behind me, so he could 'keep an eye on me'.
Not like I was exactly arguing with him about being allowed the independence of walking alone; sure, I felt confident to an extent because Benita had given me one of her own Browning Hi-Powers and even gone to the liberty of giving me a quick lesson in how to load, aim and shoot it, but I needed to rely on magic more than a simple hand gun. Bill-E, Lorcan and I had been assigned the standard soldier uniform and I was pretty glad about this for once. Something about Shelley, the annoyingly pretty, tall, curvaceous soldier with auburn coloured curls and big, doey brown eyes, with freckles and all; made me somewhat pleased that we weren't having a fashion contest, because I knew she'd beat me. The pure silver necklace, with the small genuine diamond linked on the end, told me she was one rich soldier girl. Much richer than Benita with her chunky, larger frame, tanned skin-the name kind of hinted she might have Hispanic heritage-which was similarly beaten like the Commander's and uncontrollable tangle of chocolate brown hair, with her plane gold band on her ring finger. The ring Shelley was lacking I noted.
When we'd first been introduced to Commander Prentice's squadron of soldiers, Benita had taken the rather sweet priority of showing me a collection of photos of her husband-Howard or 'Howie' as she'd affectionately referred to him as, her three young sons-Eddie, aged four, Ollie, aged three, and Devon, aged one, and daughter-Roxanne, aged two months. She'd told me she was only twenty-seven herself and that had surprised me. Twenty-seven, a soldier working for a 'universal jumping, time traveling, world protecting agency' and she had a stock broker husband, three young sons and infant daughter. Took some strong stuff to be so brave, especially when you had a family at home, waiting for you, praying for your safety.
Cedrick, one of the male soldiers, was also married; and he too was young, even younger than Benita, at just twenty-four. He reminded me a little of that Harry Potter character with the same name, and he'd told me that himself-the way people often made the joking comparison; with similarly chiselled features, dark brown hair, grey eyes and a tough, burly figure with a height of 6'4". Part of me expected to find out he had a wife called Cho Chang, but even that was close enough. His wife, Hyori Yoona, was from South Korea and an aspiring K-Pop artist. He too had shown me a photograph, and she was appropriately beautiful for someone as attractive as Cedrick; if I'd have been older, and Lorcan and Hyori Yoona had been in the picture, I would've definitely been interested in him. The photo was of Yoona, as she was referred to, at their engagement party. She had beautiful, soft features, with a thin face outlined with a waterfall of straight, maple brown coloured hair which ended just above her chest; and she was dressed in a shiny, fuchsia coloured dress with a grin which spoke of pure, unchallenged happiness. I wondered if I'd ever get engaged and figured it was unlikely. Something about me worried that Lorcan would die before we could get married, if we were still together. I told that part of me to shut its gob before I smacked myself for it.
As for Lorcan, he seemed to stare at every little detail within the school building with a look of astonishment and fascination-he'd never been in a school, so this was all like one big new world to him. If he started attending he'd soon join the rest of us in the 'Hate It' section.
The school itself was in absolute ruin, and I could understand why from the second we stepped inside it; the zombies had only attacked about twenty minutes prior to our arrival, but the stench and carnage of death had been left behind in a full, hellish scale of some huge nightmare. The dead, dying and infected lay on the ground all around us. The walls were washed in a thick, sticky coating of blood which would take about eight bottles of bleach to wash off; and the floor wasn't in much of a better condition. Every step we took was a cautious one, due to blood, guts and junk being sprawled about in a sprawl I'd never seen before with any school. Even the messiest, most disorganized were never this atrociously messed up. And the second I entered the building, I could tell this was a rough school.
Having attended a pretty rough school, full of people who smoked at break and had sex in the private nature area at the back of the field, I could sense one a mile off. Even by the outside look, I could tell this was rough. But part of that comforted me-it made me feel more relaxed, and I'd embraced it like an old friend. Thinking about old friends, I hoped Violet would be there for my return. Seeing her was probably going to be like Christmas, my birthday and every school holiday I could ever imagine being rolled into one huge ball of wonderfulness, sparkles, unicorns and flying little pink bunnies. Lorcan just seemed content knowing he'd be able to pick a fight and not have me hold him back for once-and I had no intentions of stopping him for once.
I had one of my much smaller, colder hands pressed into his, partially because I wanted to make sure he was still behind me, and partially because I felt a little on edge. Even though Benita and Cedrick had informed me that their corporation, Life Trust, had allies known as psychics in this universe; I didn't feel totally at ease, the way they clearly were. I couldn't help but think about psychics know; I remembered the time when Violet and I had attended a country fair and been into one of those psychic tents. It'd smelt heavily of gin and mould, and I'd known the second I stepped inside that the old woman wearing a purple headscarf and matching shawl was a definite fake. The crystal ball was the final touch to the sheer fakery which shone off the big fake aurora which the entire damn place seemed to be heavily saturated in. Looking back, I'd considered maybe my own magic had sensed the fakery in her own claims of being a magically capable being, and I figured that was pretty true. At least, I'm sure Violet, Lorcan and Bill-E would agree with me.
Bill-E was mid-conversation when I first realised there was something more than a little odd about this place, not including the zombies-they had a category of their own on the oddness spectrum. In fact, it was the lacking of bloodthirsty, homicidal, psychotic zombies which caught my attention. After the initial attacks, in which they flooded in their masses-complete with snapping jaws, animalistic growling and wide, inhuman stares, they'd just…Faded into the background. It was slightly unnerving seeing how relaxed the stances of Benita, Cedrick, Mack and Shelley, and even the Commander herself hadn't seemed as tense and alert as she had earlier. There was either something incredibly right, or incredibly wrong with the situation, and at that moment I couldn't distinguish the two.
Things only began to get surreal when two teenagers rounded the corner, wearing no protective gear, and seemingly in mid-conversation. At first glance, they seemed to be just friends, but once you got closer you could tell they were siblings-a brother and a sister. The girl was the taller of the pair, standing about an inch taller than me at 5'8", with a slim, flat chested figure similar to my own; her skin had a tan to it, although I could tell it was out of a bottle because her neck area seemed to be paler than her face. Oddly enough, she was one of those rare people to suit fake tan-probably because she wouldn't need to use a shovel to scrape it off-unlike some of the girls I'd known. Her hair was straight, long and light brown, going well with her darker, almond coloured eyes. She was dressed in a slightly odd, red and white cheerleading uniform which made me do a double take. Her brother was significantly smaller at 5'5", with a similarly slender figure, and paler skin with a slightly pinkish tinge to it, and I figured that must be his sister's natural skin tone. His hair was darker than her's, borderlining black it was so dark, but his eyes were the same almond and outlined with a pair of black glasses. He too was dressed oddly-with a traditional, old-fashioned school uniform on, something which made my eyes widen.
"Quinn, Ned," the Commander addressed them as we approached, before turning back to us. "People, this is Quinn and Edward, or Ned, Perrin-they're brother and sister who work closely with Beranabus and his Disciples." She explained, with the soldiers and the rest of us nodding, whilst the Perrin siblings just grinned slightly. "Guys," she addressed them. "This is Billy Spleen and Esther Blake." I was surprised that she added me in that introduction, but Ned and Quinn looked pretty relaxed. I said 'hello' and Bill-E just grinned at the naturally pretty Quinn.
"All of the zombies in the school and surrounding area have been dispatched Commander." It was Quinn who answered; her accent was English, but slightly further south than mine, and her voice was high pitched and surprisingly soft. Something had made me assumed she'd be loud. "Rick and Debbie have collected the assigned ally and we're on our way back now." It seemed slightly surreal to hear someone who only looked about seventeen years old talking in such a formal, adult manner, but part of me figured Quinn could've been a lot older than she looked. "Any remaining issues are being tended to by Dr Bellari and his allies," she added. "He said he wanted to speak to you though, about something. He's in the gym section of the school; just take a left at the end of this corridor and go straight ahead. This place may be designed by a maze but we've finally gotten adjusted to the layout."
The Commander nodded and thanked the Perrin siblings, before continuing on her way, with us following. I noticed Ned shot us one last glance as they walked down the corridor, smiling to himself as he did so, before vanishing out of sight when we turned the corridor that Quinn had told us to turn down.
A new corridor brought a revival of carnage, gore and general mayhem. "The attack must have started in near to here." Lorcan finally spoke up, after just walking in his own silence, enjoying the new surroundings and showing great interest whenever one of the soldiers fired his or her gun at a hungering zombie. "Judging by the blood spread, it started at the place in the building that strangely dressed girl mentioned in your new language, and spread out from there onwards." I was about to ask how he knew something like that, but then I realised how during his original lifetime there was probably a lot more blood spilt than in present day. Even with the wars fought in Iraq, Afghanistan and the World Wars; the blood wasn't strewn so messily and people weren't as used to the blood.
"Did you get taught that?" I asked him.
Lorcan smiled at me slightly, as if he'd almost forgotten I could understand what he was saying, because he was so used to not understanding modern day English. "Somewhat." He replied. "But most of it I had to teach myself or Ronan taught it to me, or I'd teach him. We worked like that. As a team. It was almost like we could read each other's minds, we were so in sync."
I couldn't help but smile at that, gently fiddling with a strand of pale blonde hair; twisting my hair around one of my fingers is a comfort mechanism I've been using since I was only four years old, but even now I couldn't help use it just to reassure myself that I felt even more comfortable, despite being in the presence of two people I both liked, and trusted. "I would've made an awful twin." I told him, knowing this would be a fact. "I'd find it hard to constantly be in the presence of someone else and, like you said, have that somewhat in sync feeling with them. Having Evie around when I was ten was hard enough. Then again, we do have a ten year age gap, so we're not exactly going to be the closest of siblings. She's irritating, but I miss her."
He nodded in response, clearly thinking of his own younger brother and I opened my mouth to profusely apologize, but he stopped me before I spoke. "Don't." He told me, smiling somewhat, although it was subdued and sad. "Like I said about Ronan, you didn't kill him, so you don't need to be sorry. I wish I could've killed Connla myself, but the demons finished me off before I got the chance…" He sighed. "Oddly enough it didn't hurt. It was over in a couple of seconds, after several horrible stings of pain…"
"You don't have to!" I interrupted him quickly, putting one of my slightly shaking hands on his warm, still freshly bruised arm. "I don't want you to relive a harsh memory, believe me. Vengeance is something that everyone wants but…I don't really think it's always what you want. My dad used to tell me that if you let it consume you, your life becomes driven by it, and then, when you finally get it, suddenly your life has no meaning anymore because the one thing you've been desperately striving for has been ripped out from under your feet. And life…Doesn't seem so fun anymore."
"Your father sounds wise." Was the response he gave me and I let myself drift into thought after he replied with that. Was dad really that wise? He'd made a deal with a vampoari, more specifically San Valentino, so he could marry mum; had two daughters, knowing I'd be forced to marry the man he'd practically sold his soul to in order to get my beautiful mother to love him. Maybe he'd thought moving to Carcey Vale would throw the vampoari off the scent? Or that he'd get bored and give up? That he'd be able to talk Valentino out of it? And then I remember. I remember the phone call.
I was thirteen when the fateful phone call had been issued to my household. Mum was away on yet another of the trips her law school forced her to take every couple of months, so dad was looking after both me and Evie, although he seemed agitated and nervous, constantly staring at the phone like it was going to jump up and savage him. Evie spent most of her time burbling the standard toddler sentences of nonsense, collapsing back onto sofa cushions and laughing at whatever kids cartoon was played on the TV, not having a care in the world. Not needing to have one.
Most of my time had been spent hanging out at the local park, spending most of my time swinging back and forth on one of the creaking swings, my long legs extended in front of me, pale blonde hair flying out around my head, ignoring the stares I got from any other kid who entered the park. No-one even really bothered bullying or cat-calling me; they just ignored me, excepted the fact I seemed happier in my own company, and just continued their own conversations, spending most of their time giggling and taking out their phones to take stupid selfies, pouting like duck and flipping the finger at the camera. With the older, more buffered, beautiful girls it made them look like a parody of unattractive; but most of their photos were just group shots full of genuine smiles and hugging. When the younger girls tried to copy these actions, they just looked like idiots.
It was the night before mum got home when the phone went and dad shot to it before I'd even left the dining room to pick it up. Usually I get them phone whenever it rings during dinner; it has a habit of ringing when mum and dad are mid conversation, so I usually end up going off and picking up the phone, then bringing it back into the dining room if it's for one of them. Even with mum's absence dad had been talking to me whilst Evie swirled her spaghetti round her bowl, slurping it loudly off the edge of her spoon, spreading tomato sauce all around her face whilst she grinned impishly. Dad had been asking me the usual questions regarding how school was doing, what I wanted to pick for my options, and I'd told him I planned on taking History, Business, German and Art. I'm decent at art, but I was convinced to take it by Mrs McConnell because I work well with things like clay and pottery.
When the phone had finally rung though, dad had shot up and told me it was probably for him, rushing out the room and picking it up. The following conversation had been composed of my father angrily shouting in Italian, and now I understood why. I knew dad could speak Italian because he'd spent several summers there during his younger years, painting and studying the vast majority of art galleries the place had to offer. Dad was also fluent in French, and had promised to take me to the Louvre when I was sixteen, so I could take photos for my art coursework. I'd never heard dad sound so furious before, and even Evie stopped giggling, staring towards the door, clearly confused-like me. Dad never got angry on the phone, it was always mum who did the yelling at people-usually her clients-or her friends whenever they were bitching about an ex-husband or son's girlfriend or whatever. But dad was doing the yelling now and it made me freeze, staring across the table at Evie, who looked just as amazed.
He sounded like he wanted to chuck the phone at the wall, or crush it beneath his feet, or flat out murder whoever he was yelling at. My name was never brought up, but now something told me it was about my engagement to San Valentino and dad was trying to protect me from everything he'd unintentionally brought upon himself, his wife and this family. The final note of dad's was an ice cold hiss, and then the phone was slammed down back on the hook, and I was surprised the phone didn't break right there and then.
Dad's return was an awkward one, and I immediately felt worried when he walked into the room. His skin was ashen and he looked like he wanted to throw up his cuts all over the laminate floor, stroking his dark hair gently with one shaking hand, rubbing his eyes like he wanted to cry and his breathing was heavy. He noticed Evie and I's horrified expressions and explained that one of his 'work friends' had done something incredibly stupid and selfish and that him and mum needed to discuss something. Evie had immediately cheered up and calmed down upon hearing that, continuing with her dinner, and even I'd managed to push back worries-smiling at dad and continuing to tell him about my options. He'd been pleased that I was taking art-knowing that possibly one of his children could carry on his legacy.
That explained the argument they'd had the following day when I'd gone to bed. I hadn't heard any of it, it was all hushed and full of hissing tones and ice cold insults, but now I know. Mum had found out about me. And my impending marriage to a vampire creature who wasn't taking no for an answer by any standard. Life's fucking stupid like that.
"Esther?" Bill-E was shaking my shoulder when I finally came out of my trance like state, swaying me where I stood and I shook my head, hair spilling outwards in all directions. "You okay?" He asked me, looking sweetly worried about my condition and I smiled at him, blinking and nodding. "We're at the gym," he added, gesturing towards the set of double doors at the end of the hallway. They were streaked with blood, but it wasn't making my stomach churn as much as it had when I'd first been presented with the messy spray.
The Commander and her troops had entered, leaving just Bill-E, Lorcan and me standing in the hallway. Lorcan just grinned when I looked at him, as if he was used to my zoning out and I figured he was by this point. One of his hands was playing with the large array of earrings hanging from his right lobe and I realised that was probably his comfort mechanism-the way hair twisting is mine. Old habits never die hard, I told myself as I walked towards the double doors. "It's gonna be messy, isn't it?" I looked at Bill-E as I spoke and he nodded.
"It's always messy." He sounded matter of fact and strangely adult, something I'd not been used to hearing him being. Bill-E talks in a mature way, but I wasn't used to him sounding so matter of fact and brutally honest; he'd usually had a joking, laughing manner, all cynical nature and sarcasm whenever he was making a joke. "I've gotten used to this sort of thing by now…" He admitted, "Everyone sort of does in the end."
Bill-E pushed the door open, exposing the horrible shock of the inside room; I felt my gag reflex immediately kick into action and I choked, swallowing back the rising bile before it could rush up my throat and pour out of my mouth and spill onto the floor, my hand naturally clamped itself over my mouth and I coughed, shuddering violently. Standing back up straight, clenching my fists and coughing again, taking yet another shuddering breath, I stared at the room before me.
Dante Alighieri himself couldn't have imagined the hellish nature of the room which had been called the school's gym. Blood, guts, severed limbs; even brains were sprawled across the floor, and I realised it was an amazement in itself how Ned and Quinn had looked so neatly pressed and not smeared and stained with gallons of blood. Then again, magic works in mysterious ways, and I figured a quick 'human washing machine' spell wouldn't be too hard for them to generate. The formerly white walls and neatly polished laminated floor were soaked with the blood of innocent people. The people who died in that gym weren't soldiers, Disciples or those who were magically capable; they were ordinary, innocent pupils, teachers, cleaners and whoever else was in the school that day that had nothing to do with any form of war or fight. Innocent people often die in wars, but I'd never seen carnage up close and personal, or at such a devastating, bloody, downright vile level. Even Lorcan looked slightly amazed at the carnage; I realised even during a time when demons and magic were the social normality that blood spill was never that unnecessarily gory. It was like whoever orchestrated the attack was making a show-and they were enjoying it. More than even the demons he fought. This was a hunt, like some sick game of sport. And it made my stomach churn violently.
Dotted about the room were small groups, pairings or singular people leaning over the bodies, noting things down and engaging in small, private conversations-the psychics who'd been mentioned by both the Commander and Marcella herself. I remembered Marcella telling me that the psychics were like the mages, magicians, necromancers, witches and so forth of our universe. Their abilities, more commonly referred to as 'gifts', often began simply as things such as telepathy, precognition and fortune telling, but commonly extended into much more powerful forces like pyrokinesis, telekinesis and sometimes even resurrection and the ability to control others minds. She'd also told me about how once Lindsay, or Linzer, was safe and sound in our universe, she'd begin teaching us both, and I couldn't wait. I figured someone else at the carnival might be teaching Lorcan how to speak English, possibly even one of Marcella's relatives; but something deep inside told me she herself wanted to take on the challenge. Prove that, despite her illness, she was nowhere near useless. You didn't need to show me that though-she was definitely one tough necromancer who wasn't going down despite her illness.
Whilst I was lost in my thought train, a girl walked over to us. She was younger than what I'd imagine these psychic people to be, at least…The ones who'd be helping us out. She even looked my age, maybe a couple of months older, but something about her stood out undoubtedly. Like Shelley, the beautiful soldier, the girl was astoundingly attractive enough to make me feel jealous; Bill-E was staring at her, and I understood why, Lorcan eyed her up and down when he saw her but didn't stare. Girls weren't exactly on his mind much now-the thrill of a possible fight was clearly still fresh in his memory.
It was the eyes which I realised drew most people in; her eyes. They were a beautiful honey gold, and the best comparison I could make was akin to the likes of those vampires in that critically shunned book about some girl falling in love with a vampire-'Moonlight' or something. Her complexion had a light, natural tan to it, but her cheeks and lips were tickled pink, accented by her smile. Her hair was the one most enviable natural hair textures I'd ever laid eyes on (alongside that of Elle Quinn and Scarlett Pearse-a girl in my former Art class); it ran down, hovering just below her breasts, a rich, beautiful chocolate brown which complemented her slight natural tan and outfit composed of a white strappy t-shirt, black shawl with white roses and blue denim skirt above the knee with black boots meeting the kneecaps-hippyish but fitting somehow. Her figure was small, only standing at 5'4", and curvaceous-arguably chunky if you wanted to take a hit to her self-esteem. Glittering diamond nose stud and a pure silver one just above the lip. She held out a manicured hand towards me first, after greeting the Commander and her soldiers politely.
"Esther Blake." She said my name as if she was greeting an old friend. "What a nice coincidence. I'm Tia Bellari." The surname's Italian, I could tell that immediately, and it explained her natural tan and elegant beauty. I took her hand and to my surprise, my grip was the stronger of the two. She had a silver charm bracelet on her right wrist, with a woven wool one just above it.
"Nice to meet you." Was my response her, hoping the jealous wasn't too blatant in my voice, but I wasn't ashamed of it as much as I normally would be. Any girl would be jealous of someone like her. "Are you a mind reader?"
Normally, someone would've laughed at that comment but the girl didn't laugh, she just smiled and provided an answer. "Yes." It was a statement, not a jokey reply and I realised that was the catch that accompanied her; she lacked any sense of humour. "Currently I'm trying to salvage someone." She told me, before shaking Bill-E's hand, then Lorcan's. Both of them clearly had a stronger grip than her, and when she took Lorcan's hand, I even saw her wince slightly, but she covered it quickly before he noticed. "Come with me." She told us, walking back towards the messier carnage and the three of us complied without arguing, just following her, wondering what she wanted to show us. As she walked, strands of her beautiful hair blew away from her ears and I noticed one thing; not the fact she had long, flowery earrings, but that there were slight burn marks at the tops of her ears, marring the flesh slightly. But I didn't mention it and just followed; Bill-E noticed it too, and he shot me a concerned look but I shook my head in response. Tia seemed pleasant enough, but we weren't friends yet, and asking questions wasn't right yet.
There was something that looked like a corpse in front of us, but Tia Bellari wasn't seeing things that way; from what I could see, the body had formerly been a boy. The stance, build and body shape made that clear; he was amazingly tall for a Year 10, easily six foot, with paler skin than Tia, Bill-E and Lorcan's, possibly even paler than me. He had a blood caked crop of blonde hair, but there was an awful split in his skill, spilling brains out onto the floor and I knew looking at where the face had once been really would end up with me vomiting all over the already filthy floor.
"Isn't he dead?" Bill-E asked, gesturing to the corpse, showing no signs of needing to vomit. I simply clamped one hand over my mouth and partially covered my nose as well, trying to block out the sickening stench of decay, copper and death which throbbed inside the room.
Tia waved her hand in the air as if to say '50/50'. "Partially." She explained to us. "But he'll come back."
"Impossible…" Bill-E started to say but she interrupted him before he could finish the sentence.
"Psychics can make something called a 'blood bond'." She told him, but she looked at me and Lorcan; causing me to cast Lorcan a glance telling him I'd try my best to explain everything later on. "It's where a normal human being consumes a psychic's blood-and the psychic can choose to make something called a blood bond." She looked at me, and I nodded through my sick feeling to explain I understood. "If they make it, the human's life force is bound to theirs. As long as the psychic remains alive, the human can keep being bought back regardless of whatever injury they receive…"
"But if the psychic dies their bonded partner goes too?" Bill-E cut in that time, and she nodded before concluding her explanation.
"The person often receives powers of their own." She explained. "The psychic blood adds a little bit of magic to their own and they'll often develop mainly psychical powers-elemental control, kinetic blasts, telekinesis, flight, super strength and speed. Your standard comic book things." She smiled slightly, more to herself than us, and shook her head-but still not laughing. "The psychic often deliberately chooses who they want to bond with; and if you're incredibly sneaky…You choose a crush or something. Most people just choose friends, or even non-psychic relatives. My dad, Dr Marcus Bellari, told me to make one when my aunt had the vision of the zombie apocalypse…" She sighed slightly, picking at her beautiful nails. "So I made one with someone who worked in our family fortune telling shop. My dad's a doctor, but my aunt set up the shop when we moved here. Being someone who naturally saves lives, he commanded me-being the eldest-to make a bond. It was sort of an accident how it happened, but I was running out of time…" She sighed. "So I couldn't be choosy. He's alright really…" She gestured to the boy on the floor. "He had a troubled home life and became violent, angry and a delinquent because it got him the attention his mother never gave him."
"What's his name?" Bill-E asked her, and I realised that all my blood seemed to be rushing to my head, and I realised I was going to faint yet again, gently tapping Lorcan on the arm. He turned towards me and his eyes widened when he saw what must've been my ashen face.
"Esther?" He asked, but all I could really hear was Tia's voice.
"He was born Anthony Kraven." She continued, facing towards Bill-E, clearly explaining everything to him with gusto and much interest. "But he called himself Kray…" Her voice began to fade away into blackness as my eyes finally rolled back into my skull and the world blackened out around me as I sagged to the floor, smacking my head against the laminate. Pain briefly flared up in my skull-but the blackness consumed me before anything else could've been felt.
A/N: So! Esther's fainted on the floor of a blood splattered gym in front of our beloved Lorcan, wonderful Bill-E, and strange, captivating psychic girl Tia Bellari. The psychics and 'Blood Bond' concept are original ideas, so if you want to borrow or take inspiration, please contact me first or…Well…Who's going to look a little bit of a thief? I have no issue letting people borrow my ideas as long as they give a little bit of credit! I don't want a fucking statue in my memory, but just a little bit of credit for my own mad mind. Thanks for reading! R & R please!