Disclaimer: I do not own any of Darren Shan's working, including Demonata or Zom-B. I do, however, own any original concepts which can be found within this story and therefor own them. Believe me, I think we all know my writing is nowhere near amazing enough to equal Darren Shan's!
A/N: As part of my apology present to my incredible, wonderful, beautifully patient readers, I managed to write this over a period of about two-three days. You guys really deserve all of this, because you've waited on my stupid arse for so long and you've understood things about my awful updating rate! To be honest, I myself was completely horrified about how long it took to write the chapter preceding this, but the writer's block really seemed to hit me and I just couldn't shake it off! most of all, I have to thank everyone who's ever read, reviewed and followed this story-your support is what keeps me going most the time to be honest! You've all been so phenomenally kind about my stupid writing, and I'm surprised this has gotten so much positive feedback! It was actually based off this short story I planned on writing about two best friends named Esther and Tasha, but the plot never got properly developed, and Esther was adopted into this fanfic instead. I'm not sure what I would have done with Tasha, but I do wish to write s sequel to this story, meaning Tasha will probably show up during the sequel! I think everything would become crowded if she showed up in this story, so I'll leave her be for now.
Hair straighteners and tea.
My emotional composure was being kept by my hair straighteners and a cup of tea.
Bill-E and Lorcan were nowhere to be seen, so I was simply being forced to sit on Marcela's white, worn out sofa, sinking back into its soft, comforting material, my legs crossed in front of me like I was sitting down on the carpet back in primary school, with only my own jumble of thoughts for company. It reminded me of school in that sense too really. Being isolated from everyone else with only my jumble of thoughts, with not even the understanding Ezra Pace, there to talk to. My phone was upstairs in the spare bedroom, which was slowly being converted into my room I'd noticed judging by the fact some of my personal belongings were scattered about the room carefully, showing I was moving into the house slowly but surely. It was better than staying at the Circus of Blood, so I wasn't complaining. The only place better than here was home. With mum, dad and Evie, somewhere safe and surrounded by my family; but I doubted I'd be seeing them for quite some time.
The realisation I might not see my family until I'd entered my twenties was something that made my eyes begin to water. I guess you only really appreciate people when they're gone, for good or sometimes just in a metaphorical basis, but the tight clenching in my chest made my vision begin to blur and my lips purse into an uncomfortable shape of nervousness. I just wanted to go home. Have a cuddle with my mum-regardless of all the times I'd gotten irritated when she'd tried to wrap her arms around me before, worrying about the babyishness attributed to such a 'childlike' thing-well fuck it, I was a child, and I needed a cuddle from my mum, regardless of what anyone thought. I wanted to hear dad's old CDs playing in the car as he tried to summon up another 'master piece' (one that got recognition without the help of my nine hundred year old fiancé), or even listen to Evie's giggles and be forced to lie on our battered leather sofa, watching yet another episode of Peppa Pig with her.
Only the mundane process of running the hair straighteners my mum had bought me for my thirteenth birthday prevented the tears from bursting past the peripheral vision of my eyes and slipping down my cheeks like transparent pearls, staining my skin gently in a near invisible marking, only noticeable when the light would gently hit my skin. The warm, sometimes burning, sensation of newly straightened hair falling against my fair complexion was the only source of comfort I'd managed to fathom in the silent near atmosphere of Marcela's living room-with only the repetitive ticking of the large, golden cuckoo clock positioned upon the white, marble texture of her mantel piece, breaking the tranquil silence-with the brush gently following afterwards, fixing the straightened nature through my usually wavy texture hair in a repetitive-therapeutically repetitive-process.
A note, written out in Marcela's small, neat print, had been left on the bedside table next to the bed with its white, cotton sheets which I'd entangled myself in upon being placed down upon it following my fainting spell. Lorcan had been given his own room; meaning when I'd awoken there hadn't been a warm, heavier indent upon the other side of the bed, giving me more room, and less of a feeling of awkwardness, but had also given me a sense of coldness, and even loneliness. Marcela had finally decided to begin teaching Lorcan to master the English language that day, explaining why they were out. Bill-E had apparently gone home after dropping me off, due to his grandparents being fairly neurotic, meaning I didn't have much to look forwards towards. It'd only struck me that the realisation of my own loneliness hit me when I had nothing to do. Gaining friends had meant loneliness hurt even more than when I'd only had Ezra for a limited period of time, and if I'd been completely fucking ungrateful, I would have commented making friends was a bad thing. Luckily even I'm not that arrogant. I guess I only get arrogant when I'm confronting my fiancé.
Sighing gently as I switched off, unplugged and put down my hair straighteners, I came to a halt in front of the mirror after pacing around the front room, trying to entertain myself in a way I was certain wouldn't work, and I was proven right. Walking around a living room composed entirely of pale colours-mostly whites, creams and light greys-was even less interesting than when I'd turned on the television and hopped from channel to channel for a couple of minutes. I still hadn't been allowed to see my counterpart, Lindsay, who I figured was unfortunate enough to be staying at the circus seeing as I was at Marcela's, so I literally had nothing to do. Daytime television was even more boring and droning than I'd remembered, so I'd simply switched it off after attempting to watch Jeremy Kyle and Real Housewives, but not getting the enjoyment I'd formerly gotten during my lonelier days. By default I might have even still been considered a friend to Grubbs Grady if he wasn't mortally offended by my vanishing act, so the fact I was stuck in a house with nothing much to do made school seem appealing now.
Standing in front of the golden framed mirror, with ornate swirling patterns carefully etched into the corners specifically, I frowned in that childishly, pulling a strange pouting face, my brow furrowing, causing deep creases to form in the usually smooth skin of my forehead. I was even tempted to take a stupid selfie of myself pulling a face to provide some entertainment before rolling my eyes and shaking my head. Stupid, I mentally chastised myself, but I smiled slightly at my immaturity and walked back towards the sofa to sit down, pondering whether I should go back up to my new room and retrieve my phone to text Violet, or even see if Ezra had replied, but a knock on the door interrupted my thought process.
For once acting like a normal teenage girl-concerned with my appearance-I looked downwards at my outfit, inspecting it carefully in a critical fashion. If Lorcan had returned from his English classes, which I was aware Marcela was instructing away from the house and the thought of me answering the door looking stupid was painfully embarrassing. Even if it was just some postman delivering mail, answering the door and wearing my Kermit the Frog pyjama top and faded plaid sweatpants would be majorly embarrassing considering the fact I'd just spent time straightening my hair, gently applying makeup, and even contemplating wearing nail polish. I loved my comfortable Kermit attire, but answering the door in it, especially seeing as it was past noon, would be embarrassing by anyone's childish standards.
I looked positively Barbie liked compared to my formerly tomboyish attire, bar the skirt I'd picked out for my first day of school; I'd picked a white, linen dress with thin spaghetti straps which pooled loosely above the knees, expanding in a shapeless way which complemented my legs by making them look thinner, which was emphasised by the dark brown leather belt I'd positioned above my waist, emphasising my chest instead of my hips. As I walked towards the door I picked up my navy denim jacket, wanting to detract attention away from my chest in case it was a postman or something, and slipped it across my shoulders, but not fastening the brass buttons so I could easily slip it off my shoulders after answering the door and return to my bored status positioned upon the sofa.
Unclipping the latch off the front door, which was white and matched the general pale colour scheme of the rest of Marcela's homes interior, I paused before opening the door. What if it were San Valentino? In contrast to traditional vampire mythology, he'd proven he didn't need to be invited in judging by how he'd snuck the dress into my room back when my life was dwindling towards the insane chaos it had now become immersed in. I wished those days could be reversed and I could continue living in the average, middle-class, suburban world I'd formerly inhabited. It now seemed like mundane bliss. A usual irony of life: the second things get more interesting, they have a horrid habit of becoming interesting in the worst possible way, but bitching about such things would only waste my time.
Pulling the door open, by twisting my hand on the golden knob and yanking the door towards me in my own direction, I was greeted with a familiar face, although one I hadn't seen in quite a while. Grubbs Grady, ginger haired giant, and the first person who'd befriended me when I'd begun school (a place which seemed so fucking distant now) was standing on Marcela's miraculously clean porch, looking somewhat awkward with his incredible height, dressed in a black hooded top with white drawstrings and white trim around the edges, covering whatever top he was wearing underneath, with navy coloured jeans that were fading around the edges and navy coloured sneakers. He looked unsure of himself and somewhat nervous, but my own feelings matched his, so I didn't want to attempt chastising.
"Hey, Esther," he began the conversation, looking somewhat unsure. "I got a call from your mum a couple of days ago, explaining that you'd dropped out of school due to stress about moving and were staying with a family friend, she even gave me the address so…I decided to come and see you, I was wondering if you'd like to hang out with me and the others some time." He gabbled, although I knew if I'd attempted starting the conversation, I'd be just as awkward. "I'd heard you'd been hanging out with Billy a little." He chuckled slightly, a genuine laugh which I could tell he meant, and shook his head. "So I was wondering if you and he would care to come out with me and my friends tonight, to see a film." He explained. "Frank's dad's a taxi driver, so you won't have to worry about transport! It isn't a date or anything if that's what you're thinking," he added quickly. "I haven't been put up to this by one of the others who's wanting to make a move on you, Billy mentioned you'd started seeing someone-a godson of the woman you're staying with-but I was wondering if you'd like to come out with us."
"I'm so sorry!" I began to say, and I saw his face fall a little, as if he thought I was rejecting the idea of hanging out with him, which I completely understood. The fact I'd stopped attending school, was staying with a family friend, had even managed to get a boyfriend, it was plausible that I'd completely rejected the gang he hung out with for a new crowd he naturally assumed I'd met through Lorcan. If only he knew. I made a mental note to thank Bill-E in private tonight about the fact he'd covered for me regarding details about how I'd met Lorcan, who I sadly knew I couldn't invite out tonight because his English skills would be nowhere near good enough to mean he could converse with Grubbs and my other sort-of-friends, never mind his social skills in general considering how long he'd been away from this world. "Not like that!" I added quickly, gently putting my hands upon his shoulders and smiling. "I meant I'm sorry I hadn't got in contact sooner! I really wanted to but…so much has happened, I didn't have the time, as lame as that pathetic little excuse sounds!" I sighed and shook my head. "I'd love to go out with you and the others tonight! To be honest, I thought today was going to be boring anyways, so it'd be nice to get out the house and just do something a little more interesting." A good sort of interesting, my mind chided but I ignored my inner thoughts. "What film is it?" I added.
"Day of the Dead," Grubbs chuckled and I joined in, but I felt my stomach clench a little at the thought of zombies. "It's being hosted at this old as Hell cinema, where they serve beer to people regardless of age, so naturally you can tell why a bunch of boys would be interested, but I think Loch's gonna be able to get some alcohol too." He added. "He was saying we could go and do something stupid like host a séance in one of the nearby graveyards afterwards, if you'd like to come." He shook his head, smiling but he still looked a little nervous I'd rejected the idea and begin giving him a lecture. I doubted I would. Like any normal teenager, the idea of breaking the rules my parents had set was intriguing-even though I no longer lived with them-so the thought of holding a séance in a graveyard after drinking was admittedly a fun sounding experience to even someone like me-who usually tried to be responsible. "Not like anyone would try and get you pissed and…do something…" He added awkwardly. We both knew what he was referring to date rape but I knew talking about that would be beyond idiotic.
"I'd love to!" I smiled at him, pushing a loose strand of hair out of my face. "Hanging out with you, Bill-E, Mary, Loch, Frank, Leon, the others! It'd be great! We should do it more often!" I added hurriedly. "I still feel awful about not getting in contact with you! I have your number and!" I shook my head, slapping my hand against my forehead. "Ugh! I don't know what came over me! I've just been so busy and…" I shook my head, trailing off. It was impossible to explain what had been going on in my life, Grubbs didn't know me anywhere near as well as Violet did and would definitely deem me insane, so trailing off worked in my favour because he spoke for me.
"No problem!" He smiled. "Um…" He looked down towards his wrist which had a watched strapped to it. "I'll see you at about half seven," he told me with a grin. "I'd wear something darker seeing as we're going into a graveyard-don't want to get caught and accused of burial desecration or arrested for underaged drinking in the graveyard, which would get Loch in a shitload of trouble." He shook his head again. "And, um, don't tell Reni?" He added, referencing his close friends' sister. The thought surprised me. I'd naturally assumed Reni was tagging along with us, like usual, but then the 'responsible sister' image I'd seen her portray hit me and I knew she'd object to the idea of us getting potentially hammered in a graveyard whilst connecting with the spirit world.
"I'm guessing she isn't coming."
Grubbs shook his head, running a hand through his short clipped hair. "Nope! She'd kill Loch for providing us alcohol, and I can't really blame her but…I kinda want to have some fun, so I'd prefer it if you wouldn't tell her." He looked at me anxiously.
"Don't worry!" I shook my head. "Promise I ain't telling anyone! I mean, I think Marcela-my current guardian-would kill me for doing such a thing, so I know where you and Loch are coming from." I told him, smiling in a broadly stupid, overly happy fashion that there were no hard feelings between us despite my admittedly shitty behaviour as a so-called 'friend' of his, and prayed I could make up things with him by spending more time with him, talking about various things and just having fun like 'normal' kids, for his sake more than my own. "So, who is coming?"
"Me, you, Bill-E, Loch, Frank, Mary, Robbie, Leon, Charlie, Nina and you can invite anyone you want!" He grinned back at me. "Potentially not an entire army of people, but one or two wouldn't be an inconvenience to Frank's dad."
"Oh don't worry!" I gabbled quickly shaking my head. "Most of my friends are pretty busy anyways," I said, shrugging slightly and maintaining the façade of normality, by pretending the new friends he thought I'd made weren't going to be available so I wouldn't have to lie further. I disliked lying to Grubbs, but the truth would be even worse admittedly, never mind trying to explain it. "But if any of them are available, I'll invite them if they're into old films, drinking and ghosts!" We both laughed then and Grubbs nodded, taking a couple steps back from the porch.
"Well," he shrugged. "I need to go and pick up the shopping for old Dervish-part of an exchange, he cooks the food, I collect it," he sighed, smiling slightly to himself and I smiled back. "I'll see you at about half seven. If we're late it's because the likes of Nina and Mary will take forever getting ready! Then again, you'll probably get that! See you at half seven, Esther!"
I nodded, moving to shut the door before speaking up, "See you at half seven then, Grubbs!" I grinned at him for one last time before pushing the door forwards and it slammed shut. Forgetting about reattaching the latch across the door, I slipped the denim jacket off my shoulders and wondered if I should have begun planning my outfit precisely then so I didn't waste everyone's time faffing with it a couple of seconds before I was supposed to be out the door whilst walking back into the front room, deciding I'd see if there was anything worth watching on TV. Just as I sat back down on Marcela's cosy sofa however, leaning across to the glass coffee table and to pick the remote up again and turn the TV on, there was another knock on the door.
Realising I'd left the front door unlocked; I jumped to my feet and raced towards the door. I thought it was just Grubbs, that he'd forgotten something trivial and mundane about the fact we were going out tonight, but as I wrenched the front door open, I was left gawping like a shocked fish at the figure standing there.
Strawberry blonde, silken, naturally straight hair framed a square jawed face with a large pair of chestnut brown eyes staring directly into my own much darker eyes; her hair was hung down to almost her waist-a sign she hadn't had it cut recently, but Violet had always preferred having incredibly long hair-and although I knew she wouldn't have noticed, she'd lost some weight since I'd last seen her. Violet always believed her square jaw made her unattractive and 'mannish', but I believed she'd always been the prettier one if you compared us facially. Her face was beautiful with her almond shaped eyes, slender nose and heart shaped lips, regardless of how much she weighed, but I knew Violet was incapable of seeing that within herself. She was dressed modestly, like usual, in a navy, knee-length pleated skirt, with a loose deep grey cardigan, white dress shirt and beige flats.
"Omigod!" The words came out in a rushed jumble as I practically threw myself at her shorter figure, with Violet being just 5'3", wrapping my arms around her broad shoulders and pulling her shorter figure closer to mine, my arms mainly brushing against the smooth, glossy texture of her beautiful strawberry blonde hair. "Violet!" I was aware of how stupidly high pitched my voice sounded-my voice was always a couple of octaves higher than Violet's own-but for once I wasn't really caring. Violet had never been as cruel as I could be, meaning I understood how she'd gotten a couple of friends and kept them, unlike me. Then again, I'd never been cruel to the brief friends I'd made but then…I was over analysing a situation again.
"Esther!" Violet sounded a lot less retarded than I had, but she always seemed to manage sounding a lot less stupid than me. It was then, over her shoulder, that I noticed the familiar leather suitcase which undoubtedly was filled with Violet's personal items which she'd brought with her for her visit. "It's great to see you!" She sounded ecstatic, similar to my own tone, and her grip was tighter around me because she was naturally stronger, being heavier than I was. "It's so good to see you!"
"You too!" I couldn't help but giggle in my own joy of knowing that my best friend, my main confident, was here, by my side, making me feel like I finally had an ally in the insanity filled mess I now knew to be called my life. But I wouldn't be selfish enough to force Violet into my world. She was an innocent person who had no right to be victimized by the likes of San Valentino, the still hidden Serse Ripper, the bastard Connla and any other sick motherfucker who was planning on targeting me any time in the future. If Violet died, I knew part of me would go with her; and if I had anything to do with her death, or even if I could have prevented it, I knew I'd have no other choice but to die myself. I refused to allow Violet to get hurt. "I've missed you so much!"
I felt tears begin to reform in my eyes as we just stood in the doorway, hugging like if we let go, we'd both disappear, never to see each other again. Rubbing my eyes tightly as we pulled away from one another, shaking my head as I grinned broadly in disbelief, and managed to speak the words which had needed to have been spoken for what felt like an eternity. "We need to talk…"
After discussing the absolutely insane turn my life had taken with Violet in the living room, over a good cup of tea whilst sitting opposite each other, cross legged on the sofa, as I slowly tried to explain the ludicrous turn of events which had bombarded my life over the short space of time which had passed in a way that wouldn't confuse either of us too much, I'd felt like a horrible clenching feeling around my throat was finally letting go of its formerly unbreakable grip; it felt so bizarre to be sitting up in my new bedroom, with a huge array of makeup strewn across the bed, and a similar amount of clothing items positioned on the bed.
During our conversation I'd left out the segments about the weird dreams-not wanting to creep her out further, seeing as there was no real need to freak her out by telling her about the disturbing nightmares I'd been subjected to, especially because they hadn't caused me any physical harm-but I felt slightly bad about the fact I hadn't mentioned them now. Seeing as she'd believed me about all of the insane, nonsensical features of my newfound 'job' as a necromancer, I didn't get why leaving out the dreams had been something I'd believed to be necessary, but I'd worried that it'd just be an information overload.
It felt surreal now, acting like average teenage girls, planning out outfits for an outing with friends; none the less an outing involving a movie, alcohol consumption and a séance. If there wasn't anything more teenage film clichéd, I couldn't name anything else on the spot-okay, maybe truth or dare beat it on the clichéd film level, or driving out somewhere and doing something stupid, but truth or dare was something that had never interested me growing up, and until I was seventeen, I couldn't even learn how to drive, so that blew the driving theory out of the water. Then again, I doubted if I could even afford a car. I mean sure, my dad was a somewhat famous artist, but the prophet made off his one majorly successful painting had been spent a long time ago, and most of mum's income was supporting the household, so I doubted getting me a car was their highest priority. I supposed if I got really desperate I'd be able to nag San Valentino into buying me a car in exchange for shutting me up; but that would be the very last of my options if it came down to it.
Somehow, being surrounded by piles of clothing, makeup (not like I was wearing much because of my allergies, but mascara, lip gloss and eyeliner didn't do any damage-it was only the likes of blusher and foundation that made my skin flare out, meaning fake tan was well out of the question) and hair accessories, made me forget the other details of my life-that I could apparently raise the dead, either resurrecting them or bringing back zombies; my engagement to a dangerous supernatural creature; my counterpart who I still hadn't met; and even my annoying habit of fainting around blood which I really needed to get sorted out. In fact, the biggest problem I was facing at that particular moment in time was trying to convince Violet not to wear one of her Carrie White esque outfits.
I knew the chance of me understanding Violet's painful shyness about dress was impossible because physically, and even personality wise, we differed massively; but I didn't want her to have the potential of being teased by the likes of Loch because of her modest dress sense. If he'd have said something, I knew I would end up opening my big mouth and insulting him back, which could potentially end with the night being ruined, but he was smarter than that, I'd give him credit. He'd just make cruel jokes behind-well, as loosely as you could define behind-Violet's back to ensure he couldn't get confronted over it. The worst types of bastards can commonly be the smartest. I'd seen Loch's nicer side when I'd been hanging around him, but I got a sense Bill-E didn't like him as much as I originally had based on how he seemed to become awkward whenever I'd mentioned him. Something told me Bill-E was Loch's prime victim, but I'd never seen things first hand and hadn't dared ask Grubbs about it because I didn't want to put him in an awkward position, so that was merely a guess on my behalf.
"Come on!" I sighed for what felt like the millionth time that evening. "Don't bother wearing this!" I held up one of Violet's usual shapeless dresses and chucked it towards the other end of the room. "You're gorgeous, but these clothes make you look like an old woman!" I regretted saying that the minute it was out, but Violet's skin was thicker than that where I was concerned. She just rolled her eyes.
"Old woman clothes are more floral thank you!" She snorted, pretending to be mortal offended, but the smirk playing at the edges of her lips gave her away. "Seriously though," she shook her head. "Just let me wear something I feel comfortable in!"
"Vi, you'll never stop wearing such boring clothes unless you try wearing something that complements you! If you don't take a chance, you'll never reap the rewards-"
"Or suffer the failure-" She interjected but I interrupted her and continued speaking anyways, desperate to convince her to agree with me.
"I know you'll have bought all those nice clothes your mum bought for you!" I grinned, making Violet groan, confirming my suspicions. Violet's mother had brought her a long stream of beautiful, brightly coloured clothing pieces which would ignite her natural beauty perfectly, but Violet's own insecurities and worries made her unable to see how much they'd suit her if she just gave them a chance. The unimpressed look on her usually smiling face said it all, but I ignored it and persisted. "Look, I'll make you a deal!" I told her, raising my hands up in mock defeat.
"Fine, oh great and powerful fashionista!" She rolled her eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'll hear you out, I guess…"
"Wear some of the pretty clothes your mum brought you just this once and if, if, people complement you, you better wear them more often! But if they act indifferent, you can wear your usual getup. 'Kay?" I raised my eyebrows, watching several emotions play across her face as she considered her options, and much to my delight, she relented.
"Okay! I'll give it a go I suppose." She sighed. "Come on then! Let me see what stupid outfit you've decided to torture me with!" She looked incredibly annoyed at me, but we both knew it wouldn't last, and I could only hope my plan would work in both our favours. Violet was beautiful, she just didn't let herself express it. She gestured loosely towards a pile of clothing profoundly brighter than the other pieces of attire which were dotted around the bedroom, draped over various furnishing items and strewn over the bed clothes, which I quickly descended upon and began carefully sorting through the pile until I found something I thought would look particularly flattering and complementary and tossed it towards her.
The dress wasn't something overly formal or extravagant, but it was pleasant enough to complement her and show off her chest and curves in a way my flat figure would have made look atrocious. It was a deep, rich shade of purple with an identical coloured belt to slide across the upper chest area, patterned with vibrant pink shapes that formed horses-kind of kitschy and a little fifties style, but it'd complement Violet's strawberry blonde hair and naturally flushed cheeks perfectly when combined with the pink lip gloss I'd figured she'd chosen to wear, even being capable of making her beige coloured sensible brogues look complementary. The bright colouring would complement them much better than the navy coloured skirt and pale blue blouse she'd been faffing around with-darker colours would not have gone with those shoes. Violet knew that too, but she'd feign ignorance because of her own worries, something she'd never admit. Luckily, Violet didn't look too horrified at the dress I'd chosen.
"Fine!" She sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, but we both knew she'd put it on. "Can I still wear the brogues?" She asked, giving me a look which strongly said if I said 'no', she'd refuse to wear the dress altogether.
"Fine," I pouted, but I didn't have the strength to argue and didn't really want to, so I allowed her to wear her brogues instead of trying to force her into a pair of shoes a pink closer to the horses patterned on Violet's dress and simply walked over to the collection of clothes I'd laid out, pulling the white dress over my head and placing it into the hamper Marcela had placed in my room. I had no real issues about getting changed in front of Violet, we'd done the embarrassing thing of running around the beach half-dressed when we were kids anyways, so there was nothing we hadn't seen before anyways. We just stood with our backs to each other whilst changing in silence, with the air only being filled with the sound of clothes rustling and zips being undone as we put on our different outfits.
I pulled the black, lace bodysuit up my legs, the floral pattern stretching so it became visible on my body, and I thanked myself mentally that I owned a black strapless bra which could be placed underneath the floral bodysuit-which would have left practically nothing to the imagination without it. Luckily, the low lighting of the cinema, as well as the darkness found in the cemetery we were supposed to be holding the apparent séance in, meant my bra wouldn't be a main focus of anyone. Especially seeing as I'd picked my black leather bomber jacket and my darkest pair of blue jeans out to complement the top, I doubted my fashion sense would be the main focus of any of the others in the car; but seeing as they'd never met Violet, she would be more predictably scrutinised simply because they didn't know her, which was why I'd put so much effort into ensuring that Violet looked good so no-one attempted to give her shit about it-with the boy I felt unsure about simply known as Loch Gossel being the highest ranking person on my list.
After spending several minutes faffing around in front of the mirror creating two separate braids on either side of my head, I crossed them across my scalp and secured them in place with a couple of kirby grips, causing a makeshift headband to form. It was a style I'd used a couple of times before-often as a rushed way of pinning my hair out of my face for school-but it admittedly looked a lot better when it wasn't rushed. Turning around again so I was facing Violet, I found her to be sitting on the bed.
She'd curled her hair so it fell around her strong jawed face in professional looking soft waves; Violet's hair was her prized feature, so it made sense that she spent a lot of time styling and crafting it. I often played around with my hair, but Violet had a lot more patience than I did most the time, so generally her hairstyles turned out looking a lot more professional and prettier than mine. Then again, her hair was admittedly nicer. It was richer in colour, silkier in texture, and a lot longer, so she had a lot more potential with it.
"You sure this séance thing is a good idea?" The sceptical look on her face gave away her own dubious feelings. "I mean, you're a necromancer right? You're affiliated with the dead? What if something goes wrong and a vengeful spirit shows up? Or even worse, a zombie gets raised?"
I paused then, looking at her and considering the fact behind Violet's theory. Marcela hadn't mentioned that necromancer passed over into the realms of a clairvoyant, but she had some definite fact about the zombie raising theory. What if something went really wrong in the heat of the moment and the poor soul buried in the grave next to us decided to go for a walk? I'd never even glimpsed a zombie! Sure, Lorcan had been raised, but he'd been raised full intact-alive and kicking! Marcela hadn't actually displayed her zombie raising ability to me yet, although we knew it existed. But I'd never actually raised anything period, so the idea of me raising a zombie because I freaked out sounded a little far-fetched.
"I've never managed to raise one!" I reassured Violet. "I haven't even tried! I mean, I've never even seen a real life zombie before! Not even during the whole mission to the alternate universe expedition which was like a bad episode of Primeval or something!"
"Seriously?" Even Violet looked surprised now. "Your new guardian hasn't shown you one?"
I shrugged, although I felt just as surprised as Violet looked. "A lot of stuff's come up! I mean, you think not seeing a zombie's weird, I haven't even met my counterpart-Lindsay something-yet, so I doubt raising a zombie is at the top of Marcela's priority list!" I shook my head, but smiled at her. "Look, just don't worry! I promise you that if anything weird happens, the chance of me being involved is ninety-nine percent up against just one. If anything does happen connected to me though, I apologise in advance!" I rolled my eyes before grinning at her, and she returned my grin, which ignited her face into a picture of what I could only think to be your traditional fairytale princess sort of beauty-although maybe not Brother's Grimm. "But like that's ever going to happen!"
Famous last words, eh Esther?