Contrary to what her rather chaotic exterior might suggest, Chloe Elizabeth Price was really a woman of habits and rituals. And if there was a most sacred ritual to her, one upon which rested the fate of her whole day, it was the wake n'bake. That is why, when she woke up that morning, even before she opened her eyes, she reached for her ashtray, only for her hand to hit a cushioned wall by her side.
What?
Instinctively, she felt with her other hand and discovered another wall by her other side. Funny, it felt like she'd been sleeping inside a cushioned box, or a… coffin?
The fuck?
She opened her eyes, and blinked several times to clear out the blur. The first thing she saw was a dark acoustic ceiling above her. Not her bedroom ceiling at all. She raised her head to inspect herself and her surroundings, hissing with pain at how stiff her neck felt. So she'd been sleeping in a coffin. In a room that was definitely not hers. In a dress. A dress!
What the fuck happened last night? Did I get so drunk I broke into a funeral home for the hell of it and fell asleep in a coffin? Dude, I should stop hanging out with those Portland goths, they're too fucking hardcore!
Groaning, she struggled to sit up and stretch, every bone in her body cracking one at a time as she moved, as if she had been laying still for a month. And dude, did she have the mother of all hangovers! She'd never felt so weak in her whole life, her head felt like in a vise so she could barely think straight, her throat felt like sandpaper and she was so hungry she could eat a car-sized burger… even though the very thought of eating a burger was enough to make her feel nauseous. She buried her face in her palms and sighed deeply.
Okay, Chloe, I know you're tired, and soon you'll treat yourself to a monster breakfast, burn a nice one and sleep it off in your own bed, but first you still need to figure out where the fuck you are, how you landed here, and how to get the fuck out.
She took a look around. The room was large, rectangular, bare concrete walls, white tiled floor. No windows. Felt like a basement.
Gives me the creeps!
It was furnished with steel cabinets and shelving units, a desk, a couple chairs, a couch and a coffee table. Oh, and there was a second coffin next to hers, closed.
A squat? Nah, that couch and table look too expensive. Oh shit, is it some psycho dude's lair?
A sudden sense of dread started overtaking her, until she noticed, in the back of the room, a blurry human figure pacing around. Chloe focused on it and her vision cleared to reveal a brunette girl speaking on the phone. Relieved, she studied her features: petite, skinny, pasty skin, freckles, black nail polish, dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt.
So I have hooked up with a goth chick last night! Mmh, pretty cute too, definitely my type…
It took her another second for her ears to work again to hear what the girl was saying:
"I know I screwed up pretty bad, Tori, I tried to call her but she wouldn't answer… Could you tell her I called to say sorry? God I hope she's… yeah, I guess she's hurt, just hope not too much. Shit I've acted like a real bitch, ain't I? I don't know what got into my head, I've been under a lot of pressure lately, I got a lot of work to do with Lacroix, and classes, I haven't slept as much as I needed to for days, as I told Kate I'm surviving on coffee and nerves alone. On top of that I'm worried about Kate having to testify soon against Nathan and Jeffershit, I know it's gonna be a tough time to for her, so when I heard her mother say it was all her fault and she should be removed from Blackwell, well I… I went crazy. It's not an excuse, I know, but that's how it is, I never meant to be so mean to her, and oh dog you have no idea how mad at myself I am right now… I hope so… yeah, you're probably right, I should take it easy, get some rest… nah, sorry but I'm on an op tonight… yes, again, but it's important work… tomorrow? I don't know if… kay, tomorrow night, it's a date! Bye-bye Tori, sweet dreams!"
"Uh, hello?" Chloe called as the girl hanged up.
The girl gasped at the sound of her voice and swiftly turned to face her, her blue eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
"Chloe?" she asked with a choked voice. "Chloe, is that…? Oh God oh God oh God!"
And to the punk's astonishment, she rushed to her at the speed of light and soon had her locked in a bear hug so tight she could swear she heard her bones crack again.
"You're back!" the girl cried.
"Woah! Down, girl!" Chloe exclaimed with a snicker of surprise, "dunno what I did to you, but now you're all over me!"
"I'm just," the other girl said, pulling off a bit so she could see her face. Her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears. "I'm just—I'm so glad you're here!"
"You sound high, but thanks for the morning grope. Now, would you mind telling me where the fuck we are, why I was sleeping in a coffin and who you are?"
"Who I am?" the girl stepped back in shock, but then her features softened and she smiled warmly. "C'mon Captain, I know it's been a while, but don't you recognize me?"
It took Chloe a moment of careful examination of the girl's face. Yes, she knew those freckles. And those big, pleading wet doe eyes… sudden realization hit her like a freight train.
"Max?"
The girl giggled: "Surprised?"
"Holy shit, you have no idea! Fucking shit Max, you've changed! Wha… I… five fucking years without even a text, and when we finally do meet again, I don't have any memory of it! How did we meet last night? How did we end up in that basement? And where is it, exactly? And why did I sleep in a coffin? And why the fuck am I wearing a dress?"
"Okay, Chlo, slow down, slow down. I'm sure you have, like, a gazillion questions, and I'll answer them, but first, maybe you want something to drink?"
That question brought Chloe's attention back to the miserable condition of her dry throat and throbbing head: "Hell yeah, I'm thirsty as fuck! And hungry too! Thungry? We should make that a word."
"Hell yeah," Max laughed, "we'll definitely make that a word! Stay here, I'll be back in a sec! Oh, if you want to change, your clothes are in the bag, on the couch."
And on these words, Max walked to another room, behind a clear vinyl curtain. Chloe struggled out of the coffin and, like a zombie, dragged herself to the couch where she opened the bag. She let out a loud sigh of satisfaction: torn jeans, black boots, a black bra, a sleeveless, loose top with a skull motif, a beanie and a black jacket. Her favorite outfit, which she hurriedly put on, too eager was she to discard that fucking dress. Then she let herself fall on the couch, put her feet up on the table, and waited. She could hear the sound of a microwave oven coming from the other room, and Max humming a tune gaily. Funny how she could hear it all so loud, as if her friend and the oven were right beside her on the couch. Then the oven beeped, and soon after Max was back with two steaming mugs.
"What?" Chloe asked when she saw her friend standing still in the middle of the room, staring at her.
"Nothing," Max said. "Just… I just realized you didn't look like that at all, five years ago."
Chloe laughed: "Same for you, Maxi-pad! Never thought you'd go for the vampire look! Black nails? Really?"
"What's wrong with my nails? I think it looks cool!"
"Better than not having a style at all, I guess. Wait, is that my necklace you're wearing?"
"Oh, yes, sorry. Guess it can return to its rightful owner now!"
The girl put the mugs on the table and swiftly removed the bullet necklace which she handed to Chloe.
"Ah, come here, old buddy!" she exclaimed as she put it on.
"Here," Max said as she offered her a mug. "Drink up, Buttercup!"
Then she sat next to her, toasted to their reunion with sparkles in her eyes, and took one big gulp. Chloe looked at her mug with hesitation. The hot liquid was thick, dark red, and it smelled like shit.
"The fuck is that? The Max Caulfield Hangover Special?"
"You can call it that way. It's full of vitamins and electrolytes and everything else you need to get back in the game, trust me."
Chloe examined the drink again. She really, really didn't feel like drinking this, but she was so thungry she could drink piss. So she took a small sip and grimaced: "Dude, it tastes like ass!"
Yet, she somehow felt the irresistible compulsion to keep drinking, no matter how awful the taste, and soon she had downed it and was starting to feel its effect. It was awesome! The liquid was like a warm healing spell, radiating from her belly to every part of her body, removing any pain or fatigue to replace it with pure energy. She felt like she could conquer the world!
"Dude, thish ish betsher tzhan coke!"
She froze. A lisp? She'd never had a lisp! It felt like there was something in her mouth… she reached and felt her teeth, and quickly found that her two upper canines were much longer than they were supposed to be.
"What?" she started, feeling upset.
"Okay, calm down," Max cut her off. "I know this can be scary, but I can explain everything, you just need to keep cool, okay? You can pull your teeth back, if you focus on it you'll feel like there's a muscle in your mouth."
Chloe did as she was told, and indeed a part of her palate felt like a muscle that she could flex. She felt her canines retract to a normal size.
"Better," she sighed, somewhat relieved. "Now, I think it's time for an explanation, Max."
Her friend finished her mug, and slowly put it down on the table. Then she took a deep breath, and turned to meet her eyes. She looked dead serious.
Shit, I don't like that kind of look.
"Chloe," Max started very softly, choosing her every words carefully and struggling to control her emotions. What is the last thing you remember?"
"I… I'm not… sure…"
"Don't EVER tell me what to do! I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!"
"You're going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs-"
"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?"
"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"
BANG!
Chloe jerked, overwhelmed by a sudden panic, and frantically put a hand under her top to check her belly, her chest.
"He shot me!" she gasped. "I remember, Nathan… he had a gun! He shot me and I passed out! But there's… there's nothing! Was I dreaming?"
"Chill out, Chlo," Max murmured while laying a comforting hand on her arm. "Listen, it happened, but you're safe here, okay?"
"It happened? Where is he, now?"
"He's locked up, don't worry about him. But… listen, I gotta tell you exactly how it happened, and it's gonna be very hard for you to hear, but you have to trust me, okay?"
Chloe nodded, speechless at the intensity her friend was displaying now. Max now grabbed Chloe's hand with her own two hands and squeezed tightly, struggling to find her words:
"Chlo… today we're… November 2nd. Which means this happened three weeks ago."
"What? So I was in a coma?"
Max shook her head, a pained look in her eyes. "No, you were not. Listen… I was there, when it happened. In the bathroom, I mean. I was chasing a butterfly and ended up in the far corner when Nathan showed up, and then you. I saw everything, but I…"
She swallowed hard, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I didn't do anything because I was so, so scared! I was like paralyzed, and I couldn't do anything but watch him shoot you! You wouldn't believe how many times I've played this scene in my head, thinking that I could have, like, triggered the fire alarm, or screamed, anything, to keep it from happening! But I didn't. And he shot you, and then he ran away, and finally, then, I found the guts to run to you, I wanted to help you, the poor punk girl who got shot, and that's when I recognized you. Chloe, my best friend whom I'd ghosted like an idiot for five fucking years! And I didn't even get to say goodbye, because when I came near you, you were already gone!"
Max broke down, and for a moment Chloe couldn't do or say anything except stay there, sitting, holding her crying friend's hand, processing what she'd just been told. She felt as though her heart had stopped. "What do you mean by 'gone'?" she asked feebly.
"Chlo… you died that day. You died and were buried at Arcadia Bay Cemetery."
"Okay… Max, are you fucking high, right now? Cause I don't feel very dead, you know."
"I know. For three weeks after that, I've been desperate, Joyce, and David, and… and everyone at Blackwell, they've all been supporting me, but I couldn't live with myself after what happened. After I saw you die and did nothing to keep it from happening. So in the end… I decided to dig you up and bring you back."
"Rrright… you brought me back, because of course it's a pretty mundane thing, bringing a dead girl back, right?"
"I know how crazy that sounds, but I swear, it's the truth, and there's a pretty good explanation."
"It better be a fucking good explanation!"
Max paused, closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, then opened her eyes again and let it out: "I could bring you back because I'm a vampire, and since I used my blood to do that, that makes you a vampire too."
There was a long, awkward pause. And then Chloe burst out laughing.
"Chloe?" Max asked, her eyebrows knit in confusion.
But the blue-haired girl just kept laughing louder and louder, until tears started to flow from her eyes, and she stood up and started pacing around the room.
"A vampire!" she yelled out in-between guffaws. "Now that's a good one, Maxi-pad! Must admit though, you tried real hard to pull it off! The coffins, the creepy basement, even your mopey repentant best friend number almost had me crying, I'm impressed!"
"It's not a joke," Max replied, hurt.
"Yeah right, c'mon, quit fooling around!"
"It's not a joke! Chloe, I swear! I know it sounds incredible, but you have to believe me! Think about it, where do you think those fangs came from? Your gunshot wound is gone without a trace, how do you explain that? And don't you feel different, altogether? Don't you feel colder, your skin paler? Have you noticed how everything seems to sound a lot louder, and how everything you see appears sharper and more colorful, like you've suddenly switched to Hyper-HDMI?"
"Max, just stop already!" Chloe had stopped laughing now, and she sounded furious. "I can't believe it, do you know how long I've been waiting for you to come back to me, to just even send me a little text? Five years, Max. Five! Fucking! Years! The day my own dad was buried, you just up and vanished, in a single shitty week I lost my dad and my best friend, my other half, my everything, and all this time you didn't even bother texting me!"
"Chloe…" Max started weakly, but her heart felt like it was in her throat and it became harder to breathe.
"And then you came back to study at Blackwell, I figured you'd moved on with your life but I thought you'd at least offer to go get a coffee or something, for old times' sake, but no, jack shit! Like I was dead to you! And now, this? A fucking twisted prank? Really, Max? Did you and that sick fuck Prescott pull that out together? Why? What did you think you'd accomplish? Did you become one of those Vortex Club bitches and think you'd have a good laugh at the expense of Blackwell's resident dropout who just so happens to be your ex-best friend? Or are you really that fucked up you thought I'd fall in your arms and cry and be eternally grateful because you came back and 'resurrected me' or whatever? You thought I was that dumb?"
She paused, waiting for her friend's answer, but Max couldn't say anything as she lay curled up on the couch, trembling and weeping and struggling to breathe. "Yeah, right," Chloe sneered, "simulating a panic attack now, class act! Whatever, I'm outta here."
With one final glance at the miserable figure she once called her best friend, Chloe started to storm off the room. She was almost at the vinyl curtain when-
"Chloe, wait!"
The fear of losing her again having given Max the strength to pull out of her panicked state, she leapt off the couch and raced to her.
"Please," she pleaded while gently grabbing her arm.
"Get off me," Chloe replied sternly as she shook her arm free.
"Chlo, please…"
"I said, get OFF me!" Chloe roared, and then something strange happened: it was as though she had screamed so loud it swept Max off her feet, and the petite brunette was flung backward to hit her head on the couch and fall down on the floor like a ragdoll.
Since she was a child, Chloe had always had a protective instinct that triggered whenever Max appeared to be hurt, and that instinct was ingrained deep enough within her to bypass her current state of fury and make her run to kneel by her side.
"Shit, Max, I didn't want to do that, are you okay?" she asked with frightened concern.
To her greatest relief, Max groaned and sat up, nursing the back of her head. "Aouch! I get you're mad at me, but you didn't have to hit me this hard, that hurt!"
"But I… I didn't even touch you! I screamed and it was like…"
"Yeah, I know, you hit me with a psychokinetic blast."
There was a pause.
"A what?" Chloe asked, bewildered.
"Psychokinesis," Max explained, "that's the ability to move things without touching them."
"Yeah, I know what psychokinesis means, but… c'mon, I can't do that!"
"Yes, you can, that's one of the many things a vampire can do. Look."
Slowly, Max stood up, reached for her mug on the table, out of her reach, and Chloe then witnessed the impossible: the mug levitated and smoothly moved to rest in the brunette's hand.
"H-How… how did you do that?"
Max giggled at her friend's open mouth: "It's pretty easy, really. Come on, try it: first, reach for your mug."
Chloe complied and raised her hand toward her own mug that was still on the table.
"Now," Max instructed, "focus on it. Feel the porcelain on your palm. Are you there?"
Chloe nodded. Incredibly enough, she actually felt it!
"Good. Finally, pull back your hand slightly, as if you had it in your hand already and wanted to draw it closer."
She did the move. And the mug just flew off the table in her direction as if it was thrown at her, she grabbed it with a gasp.
"I did it!"
Max laughed. "Yes, you did! A bit rough, but with a little practice, you'll get better at it."
Holy shit I did this.
I moved something with my mind.
I did this.
HOLY SHIT IS THIS REAL?
"How is that even possible?" she yelped.
"Told you," Max said with a smirk and a wink, "we're vampires, children of the night. That's just a sneak peak of what we can do."
"I… I-I…"
"Okay, let me show you something else. Wait."
The brunette took her phone and turned on the flashlight feature.
"Fuck!" Chloe hissed as she shut her eyes, blinded. "What kind of flashlight is that, it's brighter than the fucking sun!"
"No it's not," Max explained calmly, "it's just your eyes that are way more sensitive. Here the room looks bright enough to you, but the lighting is at its lowest setting, a normal human could barely see in it. Any brighter than that, you need sunglasses. Now, can you raise your hand like this and look at the wall behind you?"
The punk girl complied and looked at the wall as Max directed the light on her hand, so its shadow would appear on the wall. Only…
"Holy shit mother of all fucks…" Chloe whispered upon contemplating the sheer impossibility that was happening right before her eyes. The light from Max's phone shone on the wall as if there was nothing in front of it.
"Creepy, right?" Max said. "As vampires, we don't cast shadows or have reflections in the mirrors, and we also don't appear on camera. Something about the way we don't reflect light like other humans, Lacroix said."
"Who's Lacroix?" Chloe asked absent-mindedly, still fascinated by her lack of shadow.
"My photography teacher. And my, uh, vampire mentor. He's the one who turned me. We're supposed to be meeting him later tonight, he's dying to meet you."
"Vampire mentor… alright, Max I agree that all of that, you showed me, it's weird, but I'm still not convinced. I mean, there's got to be a better explanation than vampires, right?"
"What kind of explanation are you thinking about?"
"I don't know, something less... fantasy… for example, if we're vampires, aren't we supposed to drink blood or some shit?"
"Why, yes, we are. What do you think was in that mug?"
Chloe froze in horror at this, and stared at her mug. There was still some of that thick, dark red substance sticking on the inside. Yes, without a doubt, it was blood.
"Oh, fucking gross, Max!" she yelled. "And you made me drink that without telling me?"
"Would you have drunk it if I'd told you? Sorry for not telling, but you needed that, Chlo. Didn't you feel much better after drinking it?"
"Well… yeah, I did… but it tasted like fuck!"
"I know, sorry. It was pig blood, that's why it tasted so bad. We're supposed to drink human blood you know, it tastes a lot better."
"Wait, you've had human blood already?"
"Of course."
"Max, wait a sec… does that mean you… killed people?"
"What? Course not! We don't need to kill people to feed on them, we go to clubs, draw a willing victim to a dark corner, take a couple gulps, dude kinda passes out, by the time they come back to reality wondering what just happened, we're already off to find someone else, no harm done."
"You speak like a real… vampire…"
The young punk suddenly felt dizzy, the whole room spinning around her out of control, and she felt the need to hold on to the couch to keep from collapsing. She was barely aware of Max supporting her and helping her sit down and holding her in her arms, speaking to her with concern, as it hit her and overwhelmed all her senses.
I have fangs. I can move things with my mind. I don't have a shadow. It's real.
Vampires are real.
I'm a vampire.
I'm dead!
"Holy shit, Max, I'm dead! I'm really dead I'm like a walking dead!"
"Shh, no, Chloe, listen to me: yes, you died, and I can imagine it must be traumatic, but right now, you're alive, you hear me? You're breathing, your heart is beating, your brain works just like it did before. You were brought back for real, not as a zombie or anything like that. You're the real, living Chloe Price. You just have a… different diet. And you can do some super cool stuff. Consider this an upgrade!"
"Except that now I burn in the sun, right?"
"Nope! Good news is, this is totally fiction. The sun doesn't do anything to us. Except that we have to wear shades because it's way too bright for us. And we can't use our most awesome powers during the day. Other than that, we can go out and sunbath on the beach like everyone else."
"But what about my mom? And everyone else? Do they know?"
Max sighed: "This isn't gonna be easy and I don't know how to deal with it yet. Only I and Lacroix know you're back. To everyone else, including Joyce, you're still dead and buried."
"And I guess we can't tell anyone to maintain the masquerade, so I'll have to stay in this basement forever?"
"We've discussed this with Lacroix already. There's no rule against you revealing yourself, actually, except that, we don't want Joyce to have a stroke, do we? And having to explain to the whole town how you came back will be a pain in the ass. In time, we can tell Joyce that you're a vampire. As Lacroix said, you can't keep such a thing from your parents forever, which means that even I will have to tell my folks… great… but we'll have to be careful to bring that up slowly. As for the town, well, we're gonna have to make up a convincing story, we can't just tell everyone we're vampires or we're gonna have the CIA and NSA and everybody else on us in no time. So I figured we could use this bunker as a lair, until we can pull that off."
"Our own little pirate fort, right? But I guess you still get to live your life as a student the day and vampire the night, while I get to be your secret vampire friend hidden from the world?"
"Something like that, yeah. Sorry, I know it's not the best for you, but it's temporary."
There was a moment of silence during which Chloe appeared lost in thoughts, then she shrugged and said: "Guess it's better than rotting away in a pine box, right?"
Then she fell silent and sullen again.
"Chloe? How do you feel?"
"I'm alright," she said, shaking her head then burying it in her palms. She rubbed her face then looked up and sighed deeply. "It's just… gonna take me a while to process all this shit. If I'd known when I woke up this morning… I mean, when I woke up three weeks ago, that I'd get killed and come back to life as an… imaginary creature that turns out not to be so imaginary after all, well I… nah, nothing could have prepared me for that, I guess. Shit, I really need to blaze right now, did you bring in my weed stash by any chance?"
"Em, no, sorry. I don't even know where it is."
"Nevermind. Let's just… talk about something else. Have fun. Did you mention us having other awesome powers? Show me!"
"Show you? Well, I, uh… just began learning them, let's see… oh, yeah, check this out, it's scary cool. I call it the flicker."
Chloe looked at Max in expectation, and suddenly, Max was no longer there, as though she had simply ceased to exist. Perplexed, the blue-haired girl kept staring at the empty couch when-
"Booh!"
She jumped out of her skin and screamed in fright as she turned to face a laughing Max who had somehow appeared behind her.
"Scared ya, you big scary punk!"
"You fucking idiot, I almost had a heart attack! What the fuck was that?"
"Some kind of teleportation. Just focus on a spot you want to go to and you'll flicker there."
"Like, if I think about the girls' bathroom at Blackwell I can…"
"Err, no. It only works if you can see where you want to go, so you can't flicker through a wall or to a place several miles away."
"Oh," Chloe said with audible disappointment.
Then she decided to give it a try, focusing on the wall at the far end of the room.
Bring me there! She thought. And the next thing she knew, her face hit hard concrete and she fell down, groaning in pain.
"Shit, Chlo, you alright?" Max asked as she appeared by her side.
"Aouch!" Chloe groaned in reproof. "You didn't tell me it fucking hurts!"
"Sorry, I should have told you that it needs some… calibration, I'd say. I hit a couple walls myself before I got it right."
"Do you have something less painful?" the punk asked as she got up and nursed her nose.
"Yeah, look, you're gonna like it."
And on these words, the brunette put her hands on the wall. And then a foot. And then the other. In an instant here she was, crawling up the wall and on the ceiling.
"Awesomesauce! Way to go, Spider-Max!" Chloe howled, grinning from ear to ear.
I like it better when you smile, Max thought.
"Wanna join me up there?"
"How?"
"Just do it, you'll stick to the wall by yourself."
And so did Chloe, and soon the two friends were side by side, sticking to the ceiling like spiders.
"Now look," Max continued, enjoying being the center of Chloe's admiration too much to stop now. And she let go of her hands and ended up hanging upside down, her feet still glued to the ceiling. This made Chloe laugh heartily.
"Wow! Okay, let me…"
And Chloe followed suit, impressed at how easy it felt. But unlike Max, Chloe had not tucked her shirt in her jeans, and as she hung upside down it pulled down all the way to her armpits, offering Max a very pleasant view on her bare belly and her bra that made her feel strangely hot around the ears.
"Shit," Chloe groaned as she struggled with her top and fell back down, Max following shortly after. "Hope you enjoyed the view, Maximus," she added with a wink.
"Can't complain," Max said noncommittally, even though underneath, she was boiling.
Damn, she's hot!
She's your childhood friend!
I know, but she's still hot!
Aren't you supposed to be dating Victoria?
Victoria's hot too, in a different way. If I could have them both…
Get your mind off the gutter! Bad Max, bad!
"Uh, Earth to Max?"
"Yeah!" Max snapped back to reality.
"You still do those weird 'phasing out' things?" Chloe chortled. "Guess some things haven't changed."
"And some have changed…"
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. So, do you want me to show you how to turn to mist?"
Chloe cocked an eyebrow: "Turn to mist? For real?"
"I'm dead cereal. I'm still learning to use it though, it's not that it's very difficult, I just don't like the sensation. I mean, suddenly your body is made of millions of droplets of water, that makes you feel kinda scattered, you know?"
"But there's a great potential for pranks with that kind of power! Dude, if Rachel was there, she would love the hell out of this!"
"Rachel?"
"Yeah, she's my best friend. I mean, she became my best friend after you left. And before she left. Looks like a pattern, like I'm doomed to see my best friends abandon me, right? Anyway, she disappeared about six months ago without telling anyone, probably fucked off to California, but I'm sure I can find her. Maybe with these new powers we can, like, smell her or something. She's awesome, I'm sure you two will get on like a house on fire! The three of us, we'll be like…"
"Chloe? You're talking about Rachel Amber, aren't you?"
"Yeah, why?" Chloe asked, puzzled, then worried upon seeing her friend's ghastly look. "Max, is there a problem? You can't blame me for making new friends, I mean it's not like you-"
"No, Chloe, it's not that at all, it's… oh God, was she really this close to you?"
"Yeah, she was my angel. After my dad died and you moved, I felt abandoned. Rachel saved my life."
"Man, I had no idea…"
"Well, you never made much effort to find out. I was 16, we were best friends."
"Chloe…"
Max stepped in close to her and pulled her into a hug.
"Hey, what's that for?" Chloe asked, half amused and half worried. "Is it an apology hug or something?"
Max pulled away to look her in the eyes, keeping her hands on her friend's arms. Her jaw was trembling. "Chloe, I need to tell you something… about Rachel…"
"What about Rachel?" the punk asked, feeling increasingly nervous.
"You… you may want to sit down."
"What?"
Then it hit her. And the world stopped.
"No…" she whispered, feeling tears trickle at the corner of her eyes. "No…"
"I'm so, so sorry Chloe…"
"Chloe, slow down, we're gonna have an accident…" Max said meekly, trying to talk some sense in her out-of-control friend without infuriating her more than she already was. It failed.
"I don't give a fuck about having an accident!" Chloe roared as she kept driving aggressively, looking straight ahead at the drenched road, her teeth clenched, her eyes so wet with tears she could barely see. The hail was drumming on the windshield and roof in a mad beat.
Not Rachel, she kept telling herself. Not Rachel, not her…
Max had told her. But she had to see it to believe it.
The weather was getting worse and worse as they approached the cemetery. From a downpour when they left the lair, it had escalated to a full-blown hailstorm with winds strong enough to make the truck drift. But Chloe kept going, oblivious to the danger.
Finally they parked near the cemetery gate and rushed inside, Chloe frantically looking for the headstone amidst Mother Nature's reckless onslaught while Max was following two steps behind, trying and failing to calm her down.
Then Chloe found it.
In Loving Memory
RACHEL DAWN AMBER
July 22nd, 1994 – May, 2013
The Corners Of The World Our Mere Prologue
For a moment the tempest held back and the world seemed to stand still as she stood there, motionless, breathless, incapable of comprehending the truth that lay before her eyes. Max stood beside her, not daring to touch her or say anything.
"Rachel?" she asked feebly.
Then she fell to her knees in front of the headstone and embraced it in her arms.
"Rachel, no, no, no! Please, not her!" she cried, and Max couldn't bear seeing her friend suffer, not knowing what to do to help her. Maybe there was nothing she could do.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Chloe shrieked, a shriek so loud and so raw it pierced Max's heart, a pure cry of agony. Then the hail returned, redoubling in intensity as Chloe was reduced to a sobbing mess, clinging to the stone as if it was Rachel's own body she was holding in her arms. A body she couldn't let go of, a body she would've given anything to bring back to life, and at this moment Max understood just how much Rachel meant to her childhood friend. Chloe loved her.
"Rachel, why? We were supposed to go to LA together! You promised we'd leave this shithole together! Why, why, why?"
Softly, Max knelt behind her friend and took her in her arms, resting her head on her heaving back, giving whatever comfort she could.
"I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm so sorry…" she wept.
"I loved her so much…" Chloe moaned, and Max chased away the pang of jealousy she felt all of a sudden and hugged even tighter, focusing entirely on being there for her friend in her time of need, for the first time in five years.
"How can she be dead? What kind of world is this, allowing me to live without her?"
Max tried her best not to pay attention to these words, no matter how much these hurt. She said nothing, and kept hugging, ignoring the storm around them that drenched them to the bone, just hoping Chloe felt at least a little safe and comforted in her arms.
How long did they remain this way, they didn't know. Eventually, though, Chloe calmed down as the storm receded, and now they were standing still, side by side, still contemplating the headstone in meditating silence. The wind was gone, and everything around them was silent and still, save for a thin snow that had started falling lazily on the graves. Max's photographer instinct kicked into gear, and she couldn't help but notice what a beautiful picture it would make. No, now was not the time.
"Max?" Chloe asked coldly, breaking the silence so abruptly Max startled.
"Yes?"
"You said you brought me back… using your blood. Think you could bring her back too?"
Max sighed sadly: "I'm sorry, Chlo… we can only bring back people who've been dead for less than a month. Afterward, the body's too… deteriorated. I'm really sorry, I would if I could, but she's been… gone… for six months now."
Chloe nodded solemnly in disappointed understanding.
"How?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"How did this happen? How did she die?"
"Chloe… are you sure-"
"Yes," the punk cut her off sternly, anger seething in her voice. "I'm sure. Tell me the truth. The whole truth."
So Max told her everything, starting with how Nathan was arrested after shooting her. His confession. Mark Jefferson's arrest, the discovery of the Dark Room, the binders with photos of all his victims, including Max's friend Kate. And Rachel Amber. The discovery of her grave in the junkyard.
"Nathan said she was overdosed with the drug they used to knock their victims unconscious," she concluded.
"Who did this? Who injected her with the lethal dose?"
"No-one knows. Nathan and Jeffershit – I mean, Jefferson – they keep blaming each other."
Chloe snickered bitterly: "Jeffershit sounds fine, considering what you told me… what with them now?"
"Jeffershit's locked up, at Oregon State Penitentiary. Sean Prescott's making sure he takes all the blame, and even without that… they identified 22 victims, including at least six Blackwell students, and they suspect there's even more, back from when he was working in Seattle… that's life sentence material, if he's lucky enough to dodge the injection."
Chloe nodded: "Good. Piece of shit deserves to spend the rest of his life as a human fuck toy. What about Prescunt?"
"That's… more complicated. Right now he's at Arcadia Bay Hospital, locked up in the psych ward. His dad… he's trying to make him look like a victim of Jeffershit."
"Now that can't happen."
Max looked at her friend quizzically, but before she could ask anything, Chloe resumed: "If we don't know who killed her, then they both killed her, and they both deserve to be punished for that."
She turned to look at Max in the eyes. Her gaze was so intense and determined, it scared the brunette a little.
"I want justice for Rachel," the punk said. "You with me?"
"Yes."
"Promise you won't bail on me for five more years?"
"Chloe… I was an asshole for not keeping in touch, but I never forgot about you. And I didn't bring you back to repeat the same mistakes. You can count on me." Then she raised her hand, fist closed with only the pinky finger raised and added: "Pinkie swear."
Chloe snickered, then returned the pinkie swear and added: "That's an oath, Caulfield. Don't you forget that!"
Max smiled: "Never."
They remained there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes, their pinky fingers intertwined, and Max realized that in spite of the tragedy they were facing, she had never felt this happy in a long time. Just her, and Chloe, reunited again, it felt like the universe had put her exactly where she was supposed to be.
Then Max abruptly broke contact and tensed.
"What's wrong?" Chloe asked.
Max raised a hand to order her to be quiet and listened carefully.
"We're not alone," she finally stated, and on these words she flickered to another row of headstones, then to another, until she was at the entrance of the ruined chapel in the back of the cemetery. Chloe flickered next to her.
"Hey, I can do this without kissing walls!" she declared in triumph, but Max was in no mood for this. Still tensed, she cautiously progressed inside the derelict building with cat steps, sniffing the air with persistence.
"Max, can you tell me what the fuck you're doing?"
"I heard a noise," the brunette explained. "Coming from around here. And the smell..."
"I don't see or smell anything, dunno what got you so worked up."
"But listen, right now you can hear running steps, running away from here! Can't you hear it?"
Chloe listened attentively and said: "Yeah, okay, I can hear. So what? Probably an animal, or a squatter, or some dumb kid out for a good scare that we spooked away. Surely nothing. Come on, let's move, I've had enough of those headstones and ruins and shit. How about we go somewhere to celebrate our reunion properly?"
Max calmed down, and forced herself to forget about it. Surely this was nothing, a squatter or an animal, right? But she'd smelled something. With the storm and the snow, it was too wet to pick up a trail, yet inside the chapel she'd caught a whiff. A faint, yet oddly familiar whiff. It smelled like…
Warren and Brooke? Nah, you're tripping, Max! You just had too much emotion and you need to relax. You need to party with your best friend!
"We're still supposed to visit Lacroix tonight, should we go there?"
"And spend the evening with an old hipster? Oh, great…"
"We can still go somewhere else afterward, if you want. You'll like him, Chlo, he's cool. And he's got a wine cellar like you wouldn't believe…"
"Okay, that's a deal. To Lacroix's place we go!"
And on they went, cheerfully, Max putting the chapel incident in a quiet corner of her mind. The snow had stopped falling and the temperature seemed to have risen a bit to a nice, chill November night. They were near the gate when Chloe said:
"Wait, Lacroix, that sounds French?"
"He is French."
Chloe burst out laughing: "Wait, so your vampire lord is a cheese-eating surrender monkey?"
Max turned paler at these words, suddenly realizing what kind of mess she was getting into: introducing her teacher to Chloe and her notoriously rude, inappropriate humor.
"Uh, Chlo, can you please promise me something? Promise you'll behave?"
"C'mon, Max, you know me!"
"Yeah, that's why I'm worried."
"Dork!" Chloe laughed as she lightly punched her in the shoulder and they kept playfully shoving each other all the way to the truck.
"Warren, wait!" Brooke called out, struggling to keep up with her boyfriend as he strode with intent along the graves of the cemetery. "This is nuts, what do you think you'll find in here?"
"Trust my instinct, Bee," he said as he used his phone's flashlight to inspect each headstone he walked by. "I'm sure we'll find something here."
"And what do you think we'll find? A dug up grave?"
Warren stopped and turned around to face his girlfriend, illuminating their faces with his phone.
"Precisely," he said. "Look, Bee, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out: so far Max was depressed, grieving Chloe, and suddenly she turns goth, grows an interest in necromancy, and writes 'Soon' on pictures of herself and Chloe. It's not hard to guess she's dying to be reunited with her."
"So do you think she'll… try to kill herself again?"
"I don't think so… I sure hope not! That could've been a possibility without the necromancy part, but now I…"
"You don't believe she'll try to dig Chloe up and use black magic to resurrect her, do you?"
"I think that's exactly what she's planning to do."
"Do you hear yourself, Warren? This is insane! It cannot work, magic is fiction!"
"I know! But maybe she doesn't. Maybe she's so desperate she'll try anything if it has the slightest chance to bring Chloe back."
"Seriously, Warren? Come on, this is Max we're talking about, we know her, she's not the kind of person to-"
"That's the thing, Bee: we don't know her. We thought we did, but the Max we knew didn't have eating disorders; the Max we knew would never have gotten in a fight with Logan like she did; the Max we knew would never have gone wild at a party like she did; the Max we knew would never have had the courage to rip Kate's mom a new one, and she would certainly never have lashed out at Kate like she did. I don't know what happened to her, but she's changed, and there's no telling what she'd be capable of now. And with all she's been through, it's possible she's changing because she's going through some severe delusional depression or something! So we need to check it out. If Chloe's grave's been disturbed, then we'll have evidence. If not… we're gonna have to keep watch until we catch her in the act. And then think about how we can help her."
Then he turned back and started walking again, Brooke following suit.
"But how does that fit with the rest? With Lacroix and all?" she asked.
"I don't know yet. Maybe it's all related, maybe Lacroix is some kind of voodoo guru or something like that who's convinced her she can do it, or maybe there's no relation at all. But I need to make sure… look, there it is!"
They stopped in front of Chloe's headstone. Warren immediately knelt down to inspect the soil.
"Doesn't look disturbed to me," Brooke commented.
"There's no grass. Look, the earth's naked here, like it's been upturned."
"Not too obvious, though."
"I know… maybe we could, like, dig and see if the coffin's empty."
"Warren, that's fucking gross! And I'm pretty sure it's a crime."
Warren sighed. After they'd found the pictures in Max's room, he had started to devise this insane theory of his, and then he'd convinced Brooke to go to the cemetery that very night to find out. They'd had dinner at Two Whales and then driven up there, all along Warren had been nervously expecting an open, empty grave. But this… it could have been tampered with. Or not. He didn't know what to do next.
"So, should we come back tomorrow night, or wait here and see if Max shows up?" Brooke asked.
The boy opened his mouth to reply, but right at this moment, gallons of water fell from the sky onto the shoulders of the two teens.
"Shit!" he groaned as he ducked his head and instinctively took Brooke in her arms and looked right and left, frantically searching for a shelter from the downpour.
"Over there!" Brooke called as she pointed out to a ruined chapel.
The couple ran for cover. The chapel was in a terrible condition, most of its roof collapsed, but still they managed to find a relatively sheltered spot in a corner. Just in time, for by the time they reached their hideout, the rain had turned to hail and the wind was blowing furiously against the stone wall.
"The fuck's that?" Brooke asked. "There was no rain announced for tonight. And certainly not a hailstorm! It came out of fucking nowhere!"
Then she shivered.
"Cold?" Warren asked.
"Freezing."
"Here, come over."
And he pulled her closer to him, hugging her tightly. This didn't do much to warm her up, since he was as cold and drenched as she was, but still, here in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, her nose in his neck, breathing in his cheap perfume, she felt… nice. He turned his head a bit to look at her, and grinned.
"Not a very good place for a date, is it?" he chuckled.
"It'll do," she whispered with a smile. "Now, will you shut up and kiss me?"
Taken by surprise, Warren froze for a moment, not knowing what to do, then he decided to comply. Trembling, he turned his head further so their lips almost touched, when-
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
A primal wail of pain coming from outside startled them.
"What was that?" Brooke asked.
"I dunno… I'll check it out."
Cautiously, trying to ignore the hail that fell on his head and shoulders with redoubled intensity, the boy left their shelter and, hugging the wall, moved toward the threshold of the chapel to take a peak outside. Far from them, he could distinguish a couple of human figures that seemed to be kneeling, hugging, by a headstone. He couldn't make out what they were telling each other, but one of them seemed to be crying and the other to be trying to comfort her. Her, for the voices, from what he could hear through the storm, appeared to be female. Intrigued, he couldn't move and remained this way, staring at them.
Brooke eventually lost patience and joined him, though she couldn't see anything more really. How long they remained there, watching the odd couple, they didn't know, but eventually the storm abated, replaced by a thin, lazy snow, and the two girls in the distance stood up. They turned, and in the dim light of the fixtures by the path, Warren and Brooke recognized Max's features. The other one was taller, dressed in a black jacket, and her electric blue hair was visible underneath her beanie.
That hair.
That face.
Holy shit!
"This isn't real," he muttered, struggling to breathe, his body and senses overcome with stupefaction and terror. He was barely aware of the words he was whispering, barely aware of his girlfriend's presence, completely absorbed by this thing he was witnessing, this impossible thing. "This can't be happening…"
Brooke had a hand around his arm, and in her agitation, she squeezed him so hard it brought him back to reality. He turned to look at her.
"But this is happening," she retorted in a trembling murmur. "Fuck me with broken bottles, this is fucking happening…"
For several minutes they remained there, awestruck, gazing at this incredible spectacle without daring to move or breathe. The sound of the two girls' voices came to them from far away, they seemed to be engaged in an emotional discussion, but from where they were and in their present state of nerves, they couldn't make out a thing they said.
"I'm gonna shit myself if we stay there," Brooke said. "Let's back off, I got enough for tonight, need to process this."
Warren nodded and, struggling to take his eyes off Max and her friend, he started to follow Brooke to a narrow opening on the back wall of the chapel where there once was a back door, the wooden door having long been burned away. This seemed like a safer way for a stealthy retreat than the front entrance where they could be seen. But in his agitation, Warren tripped and fell to his knees in a puddle, the splash echoing loudly against the stone walls.
"Fuck," Brooke said, "they must've heard that! Quick, let's go!"
And she grabbed his hand to abruptly help him back up and together, they ran off the back entrance and, crouching, trying to run as fast and as silently as they could, they went for the perimeter fence. Luckily the cemetery was rather hilly, providing them with plenty of hiding spots should Max and her friend decide to run after them. They didn't actually bother to stop and check if that was the case, in fact the only moment they allowed themselves to stop and catch their breath was once they had climbed the fence and returned to their car, panting like crazy.
"What's wrong, lovebirds?" Becky the Two Whales night waitress asked as she served them coffee. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"You have no idea," Brooke replied as she shot her a glare that meant 'don't ask'.
"Kay, then…" Becky said sheepishly as she finished serving them and left them alone.
Brooke grabbed her mug in a trembling hand and took a sip, the hot liquid soothing her as it poured down her throat and sent warmth through to her limbs.
"Was it an hallucination?" Warren asked, looking just as confused and miserable as she was.
"It was not," she said sternly.
"Then… how?"
She sighed: "I don't know. I don't know how we're gonna solve that mystery, I don't know how it fits in... everything else, I really have no clue. This is a new development that's gonna serious complicate our case, but it's real and if we want to get to the bottom of it all, we need to take this into account: Chloe Price is alive, and Max has been hiding that from us."