Our Deathly Love

I won't lie I knew I was dreaming, but even so Chloe's voice which interrupted such a sweet dream was highly unwanted. Couldn't she have given me a few more minutes with this lovely dream?

Of course waiting was not a word in Chloe's vocabulary. So sighing I rolled over only to glare at Mimi's pink clock, which showed a very un-chipper six a.m. I was not surprised by the fact that Mimi yet again was not in our room. She was never here. Not that I was complaining, less time with that pink-clad crazy was always a blessing. I had to wonder what she was doing at the moment, although who instead of what would also make perfect since with the way she acted.

I swear I was not being judgmental; I was just speaking the truth. In the past seven days, Mimi has failed to come to our room to sleep at night four times! Each time, when we would finally see her it would be obvious from her apparel, and state, that she had been out drinking and doing god knows what!

I could not help but grunt at my thoughts which seemed to be more like Chloe's own thoughts on the subject than my own. Truthfully I did not care what or who Mimi was sneaking off to sleep with, as long as it did not involve me directly, that is.

I tried to close my eyes and go back to sleep. Six a.m. was too damn early to be woken up. I could not help but groan in displeasure as I realized that I would not be able to get back to sleep with the sounds Chloe was making as she ransacked my closet.

Rolling over I noticed that Chloe and I were the only ones in the room. That was normal though. I was always the last person to get up and out in the mornings, at least in my dorm room that is. Rose being an early riser only because she had to wake up exactly at five a.m. just to get to her early-morning seminary classes that she had to go to diligently every single morning!

Frankly I was not sure how she did it. Rose was not exactly normal though, I must admit, even if her personality was charming, or at least I found it charming, she was a bit odd.

She was very strong in her beliefs, and yet liked very odd things. I mean the girl was a total gothlolita, and yet at the same time she was a devout Mormon who would hear nothing against her religion. She was also the biggest band geek that I had ever seen, she could play piano, clarinet, and of course violin. As I came to find out she was in love with classical music and could name and most likely play anything you would throw at her just from hearing the first few notes.

I had to respect her for that. At least she did not listen to horrid music, even with no words it was better then the crap I would be forced to hear when Mimi was actually here. Really, I have only known about this 'Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana' for a week and I was so confused, and horrified. Her music was horrible, and I just did not understand it....

The show when I was confronted with it made little since at all. When Mimi first explained the concept of the show to me I asked her if she had Dissociative Identity Disorder, which would make a lot of since. Mimi had only laughed at me as if I was stupid, which led me to ask her why she paid double for the exact same music, and to call someone by two different names and buy into that merchandise was stupid in itself and that I in fact should be laughing at her for her stupidity.

She had no comment to my statement, except for a glare, and Rose to burst out laughing along with me.

I was brought back to reality with the sound of a crash in my closet. Standing up I looked over at Chloe who was picking up what looked like a few pairs of Mimi's high-heels that had crashed off of her shoe rack and onto the floor.

"Chloe, what are you doing in my room, messing around with my closet at six in the morning, on a Sunday to boot?" I asked as I tried unsuccessfully to pull some of the tangles in my hair out with my fingers.

"That is right Emelia Marie Badica, it is Sunday, and I'll have you know that you will not be sleeping in on Our Lords, most holiest of days! What would your mother think if she knew that you were not going to be going to Mass today? Hum... I'm waiting..." Chloe replied tapping her white heel against my floor.

I wondered if I should have told her that I was Pagan? Perhaps that would have saved me from being dragged out of bed at six a.m. Although it could have backfired. Pagans and Catholics are not known to live in a happy wonderland of rainbows and butterflies.

In fact I think that Chloe would become more hostile towards me, and possibly even more annoying about pushing God in my face if I told her what I really thought.

So I did what most 'smart' people would do, I lied.

"Of course I am going to Mass.... Um, I just wanted to know why you were in my closet." I replied sheepishly, hoping that my lie would be believed.

"Sorry, I thought you would try to skip out like Arya and Mimi did this morning, also I thought you would be more inclined to go if I had your outfit picked out for you, but I can't seem to find anything that would be appropriate for church." Chloe replied sighing deeply as she ran her hand through her thin blond hair.

Looking at Chloe I took notice of her light yellow sun dress, that was accented with white. She also had on a pair of white kitten heels, and a small flowery shawl.

For some reason Chloe looked particularly tired, and stressed. Her face was pinched up into a sad expression that I found hard to understand.

"Chloe, are you okay?" I asked hesitantly. Something was up, I could tell.

"Yes- I mean... No- I-I I'm not sure, Arya and I got into another fight this morning, not to mention that I feel as though.... I just.... He, is confusing me, I just want someone to tell me what to do." Chloe replied suddenly crying out.

I was shocked. I really had expected her to put on a brave face and say everything was 'okay'. That would be the 'Chloe' thing to do. Crying was not something I expected out of her.

Now that I had asked, even if I had expected her to not confide in me, I needed to answer. I tried to pick apart her statement. Part of it was about Arya, and I was sure some of it had to do with her missing being home. Which was understandable I even pained to go back home.

Yet, the rest made little since. Although it could be about Tristan, I knew that if I picked at that part she would kill me. If I even insinuated that she was crying over Tristan she would rip me apart, and most likely never confide in me again.

So carefully as though I was defusing a bomb I got out of bed, walking quietly over to her now sobbing form, I gave her a soft reassuring hug. I hated touching people, and I hated hugs, but any normal person would hug their 'crying' friend.

"What happened with Arya, maybe it would help if you told me what she said?" I asked gingerly.

Sniffling Chloe wiped her eyes. I could only watch as the tears disappeared and anger suddenly bubbled in her eyes. Anger directed towards me. This shocked me. I had just given her a freaking hug for god's sake.

"Nothing, what's happened, has happened. I will be waiting downstairs in twenty minutes, and if you are not ready to go, I will drag you to the car. I need to go to confession before Mass, and with the way you act you should go as well." Chloe replied growling at me before stomping out of the room.

What the bloody hell was that? I had given the girl a hug, and she practically bites my head off? She could be so moody some times. Really, I had to wonder if she was Bi-Polar, because crap like that just isn't normal.

Rolling my eyes I sighed deeply, turning to my closet I pulled out a simple grey dress as usual. It was cute, having a grey rose pattern at the waist, but besides that, it was plain. I had no problem with that though; I assumed if I were to put on some glittery gaudy dress (If I even owned one, which I do not!), Chloe would have just another reason to be angry with me.

Not even bothering to go to the bathroom, I closed my bedroom door and changed in my room. After I had slipped the dress on I ran my thick round hairbrush through my hair a few times before pulling a few of my more annoying strands away with a couple of bobby-pins.

I nodded to myself in content as I slipped on a pair of matching grey flats. Biting my bottom lip, my fingers lingered on my key necklace. I suppose to Chloe it would be sacrilegious to wear such a pagan artifact to Catholic-Mass. Although everything about going to Mass would be sacrilegious in my book.

Okay, so my religious views were iffy at best. I was not quite sure what was true and what was false. Passer-on’s did not disclose afterlife information. Angels and Demons had little proved facts to back up their otherworldly presence. I myself had witnessed and felt the presence of Hecate; yet, even so I also have prayed for things and have gotten some results. It was odd, not knowing whom I truly followed. In all essence I was pagan. Yet, truly I had no real objections to going to Mass. In fact I had an odd feeling as if what I was doing was the right thing. That made little since to me though, less than a week before I had held a pagan ritual, and now I was dressing up and going to church? I had to realize the hypocrisy in these actions. Either way, whichever way if any were true, I was not going to any ‘good’ afterlife. I could not even decide where I stood on such fundamental topic.

All around me people seemed to have the answers. Everyone in the house, had their own way of thinking, it seemed that little questioned such things as I did.

Chloe, Tristan, and Gabrial were all Catholic. Rose, Sammy, and Tenebe were Mormon. Mikey was Jewish. Jasper was Baptist. Vincent and Arya are both Atheist (From what I could tell). Hell, even Mimi was Non-denominational! Yet I had no clue where I truly stood my beliefs.

I wonder if that made me a bad person, or if I was actually smarter than the rest of the group. I was wondering if questioning my beliefs was a good idea. Yet, truly if I did not test them, then I would never find the ‘right’ religion.

In all actuality, I had to admit, that I would never truly know which religion was the ‘right’ religion. I did know though, that religion in general was mostly for the heart. I would choose a religion that would make me happy, and keep me occupied, as well as gave me the stimulus that I needed. I think that is how I differed from everyone, They follow what religion their parents have followed. I on the other hand, would end up following the religion that best suited my life and how I lived it. An odd notion, actually, most people would change to fit into their religion, where as I think I would most likely just find a religion that required little change. Rational idea, or laziness, which ever you wish to call it, that was what I believed.

Thinking that over in my head I came to an understanding of what I was going to do. I smiled lightly as I brought the cool key up to my lips. After giving it a quick kiss for good luck, I put it back around my neck and let it fall, showing outside of my dress.

It would comfort me, and as long as no one knew what it stood for, I would not insult anyone.

I closed my eyes briefly taking in a deep breath before allowing my nerves to slowly rise out of their overwhelming position in my throat, and settle in my stomach. Odd sounding but non the less true, I was scared of doing something stupid.

I was scared of embarrassing myself in front of everyone. I had to push those thoughts aside though and march myself to the bathroom.

I took a deep breath. The air that filled my lungs tasted sour, and hurt as I held it in my lungs, and forced myself to look at my own reflection in the mirror. Perhaps I was being dramatic, but I always found it dissatisfying to look at my own reflection. I was never quiet sure why though.

Today, I looked better than usual. I looked presentable, my blackish-brown hair seemed to want to agree with me today. My eyes which still held their doll like blue, now showed flecks of purple and gold. Which I guess in a way was pretty. Shrugging my shoulders I looked indifferently to myself.

As I brushed my teeth, I thought idly about my plans for today; which consisted of going to church with Chloe, mailing the letters I had written to my mother, and going to meet Pandora.

I was not sure which activity I thought of with the most reproach. Although last night I had felt the need to write down everything for my mother; now I was not so sure. I had never really opened up to her in such a since before. I was just not the type to do so. The letter which was resting in the front flap of my messenger bag, burned into me a since of unknowing.

I had no clue how my mother would react to such a letter. I was concerned about whether giving her the letter was a good idea at all. Yet, at the same time I knew that I needed to let go of this burden that had a way of swinging over my head like a pendulum. Which is why I had to make myself rather literally put the letter in our mailbox.

If I had not forced myself to get the letter and place it in our white square mailbox, I would have never done so. The letter in question would have sat rotting in my bag until something happened to it; whether it would have been getting thrown away, or someone else whom I did not want to read the letter finding it. Either way I knew that I had to let go, so taking a deep breath I forced the letter to leave my hands and drop into my mailbox. As the mailbox’s door closed it gave a scratchy creaking sound as the only indication of its age.

When I reentered my house, Chloe was already downstairs waiting for me, a small frown upon her face as she looked angrily at the old grandfather clock placed delicately in the foyer.

“Emmy, we are running late.” Chloe replied shaking her head sadly as she tapped yet again her pointed heel upon the hardwood floor. Letting out a deep breath I nodded, before mumbling something about breakfast, leaving her for a moment in the foyer, before I returned a few seconds later with an apple in hand.

Nodding slightly to Chloe we both left the house; little was said between us as she drove us to the back parking lot of the castle. A section that I had no knowledge of. The entire drive Chloe seemed abnormally tense. Her fingers that usually would have been digging into her waist were now rigid upon the steering wheel of her small dark-blue car, one that had been delivered only days before. Her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes narrowed as she drove, never once speaking to me.

In a way I have come to know how Chloe acts. I was currently under the assumption that she was not actually mad at me but at herself, and other things, that were beyond her control this was just her way of dealing with her feelings.

It was not hard to tell that Chloe was a control freak. She breathed in order, and compliance, everything had a place, and others were expected to fall into such a state as her assumption of perfection. When this did not happen, she would throw what I would easily describe as glorified temper-tantrums, where even the innocent would be treated as the guilty.

The girl was nothing more than an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist, with a high since of entitlement. I really truly wanted to be friends with Chloe, but I had a feeling that with the way she acted that would be a hard thing to do. I don’t think Chloe really wanted friends I think she wanted subordinates.

Although Chloe hated Mimi and all she stood for, they were so alike that it made me sick. This week had proved that, and shown the entire house how alike and reproachable both of them could be.

Although both presented themselves differently, they were at the core the same. Both of them were girls who wanted to be in control, who wanted to be seen as superior, and loved, or feared by all. I think deep-deep down both had a small bit of what could bloom into amiability and heart filled love for other people, but both were too preoccupied with winning and being the best.

Chloe and Mimi had shown dislike for each other, judging the other one for how they looked or whom they hanged out with. Yet, by Tuesday when they both found out that they were both running to be Student-Body-President, the dislike turned to hatred.

The week had become unbearable under each of their tyrannies, both wanting to get each of our votes, turns out to run for Student-Body-President, you must be the president of your household first.

Which meant that last week, our home was under constant fire from each of them. The decision on whom to pick would have been simple, had Chloe not acted so rude, and offensive to everyone. Chloe did do the most for the house anyways, so it would only make since that we would have voted for her loyally, well not counting Tristan or Mimi, but the rest of us would have helped.

Their attitudes gave us reason though to secretly meet. Everyone but Chloe and Mimi was a part of the meeting. The conclusion had been simple, no one would vote for either girl, we instead formed a plan, that voted instead Rose to be the House-President.

When the votes were read yesterday night, Chloe and Mimi had gone into a fit of rage like no other. Mimi even going as so far as to hide Rose’s violin bow. It took Rose, Vincent, and I twenty minutes of digging through the trash to find the remnants of what had been part of her most prized possession.

Rose would not be able to play her violin for the next week while we waited for the new one to come in. The bow itself was Goblin-made, so there was no way for us to create a new one magically.

Mimi had chosen well not to spend the night at the house, because Rose had planned to Hex Mimi big time. Rose had let it slip that her Grimoire, held a spell for Frog-Lips which would be funny to watch; I had of course heard of the spell, it was one that I had told Phillipe about, although he would not be able to use it. The spell in question causes the Hexed person, in this case Mimi, to through up live slimy frogs every time she would open her mouth. It was an old Hex, one that had been around for centuries, but it was a classic!

Sighing deeply I unbuckled my seat belt. A grimace held firm upon my face as I realized Chloe was not going to wait for me to get out. She was half way to the chapel before I even got out of the car!

Running to catch up, I was panting before I finally reached Chloe. Grasping her shoulder tightly I spun her around, forcing her to stop and look at me.

“That’s it Chloe, I have had it! I am trying to be your friend, but with the way you are treating me and everyone else I am not so sure I want to do that anymore. You praise and preach that you are a good Christian and that the Catholic religion is so wonderful, and you are a prime example. Yet, look at yourself, you are so full of hatred, evil thoughts, and bitter words, that you are setting a horrible example. I am sure God would be displeased with the way you are acting. I understand things are difficult, but I want to know right now if you are always so snake-like, or what is causing it, and how I can help Chloe, because if you are going to be this vile all the time I don’t think I want to be friends with such a person.” I suddenly burst out as I violently shook Chloe. I know I might have seemed crazy, or improper but really to hell with it!

I was getting down right sick of having to listen to Chloe and her little melodrama. I understood that the world seemed to be out to get her. I mean if I had a leu for every time Chloe said something that was down right bitter or offensive I would be able to buy the Romanian House of Parliament, which was the second largest building on earth, next to the Pentagon.

I know it sounds harsh, but she needed a reality check, and I seemed to be the only one willing to give it to her, god help me.

“I-I-I am doing the best that I can.” Chloe suddenly cried out, anger swirling into annoyance, swirling into pure unadulterated grief.

“No Chloe, You are not doing the best you can, you are fighting every step of the way, which could result in a change of feeling in you. You want so badly for things to be as they were before you came here; you want to go back and not have to deal with other people whom don’t hold the same beliefs or values as you, and hide under your little rug of perfection. Chloe, I am sorry, but that’s not ever going to happen. Even if you do leave the school you will always encounter people who are not like you and if you don’t learn how to deal with it now you will never become a real person.” I gushed out suddenly realizing that this tidal wave of words had an unequivocal truth about them that not only applied to Chloe but to myself as well. I was slightly proud of myself, who knew I could be so deep?

I watched as Chloe stared at me her eyes seemed hollow and empty as she absorbed what I was trying to tell her. I was not sure if my words would speak to her, I was not sure if she would even try to grasp what I was telling her. Yet, at the same time I was satisfied with the things that I had said, simply because they needed to be said to her. I knew in my heart that I could not leave the conversation at that, I think although I meant to help her, I was hurting her as well. That was why I felt that I needed to then add a bit more to the open ended silence that had ensued after I had spoken my last two-cents.

“Chloe we both know that you want to help and be the best that you can. You just aren’t there yet. If it makes you feel any better, nether am I, almost everyone here holds the same prejudices and discontent that we both do. That is why we are here in the first place; I think I am getting that now. It will be hard, but why can’t everyone get along, if they are deserving of respect, why can’t we just give it to them? Perhaps, that will be what I will pray about today, what about you?” I asked softly as I took a bold move in grasping not her shoulder but her hand, a small smile upon my face as we walked slowly together into the chapel.

As we did walk I am happy to reply that Chloe did open up to me. She told me what I had been suspecting all along, that she was afraid of being here, with all of her memories of her childhood and past problems with other Courts, just as I had had. She also gave up something that I had known, yet she had not willingly shared with me, she was in love with Tristan, and at the same time was angry with him, for all of the wrongs he had committed. She was scared and annoyed with Arya, and although she deeply wanted her to do as Tristan did, she knew that she had to be the one person to stick up for Arya and her choices even though it was killing her. Chloe admitted that this mornings anger fit had been over the fact that Arya had renounced god, and that she was now angry and scared not only for Arya in person but for her soul.

This all helped me realize that Chloe behind her mask was a real person with real problems and even realer fears.

Releasing Chloe's hand as we entered the chapel, I kept close behind her as we entered the almost empty room. It had been as it was when Tristan and I were here earlier in the week, the same pews, alters, and such, but now there were more people occupying the room.

I noticed that three or four nuns were very busy at work getting things ready for the Mass that would be occurring in less than an hour. In the left hand front corner of the room the first three rows were tightly packed with whom I could not help but assume were other Angels like Chloe.

I had expected Chloe to go up to them, yet instead of doing that she walked, with me in tow, to the front of the alter dipping her fingers into the bowl of holy water before her she kneeled down quickly her eyes absorbing the cross in front of her with desperate need her fingers making a cross of their own as she did so.

Getting up quickly she looked at me waiting I assumed to see what I would in fact do.

Should I say that I was a little bit unsure?

I was scared, scared of nothing. This should be nothing, I should be able to just copy what Chloe had done like a good little actress and be done with it, but I couldn't. As I looked at the water my mind swam with the possibilities of endless damnation that could occur if on chance Chloe was right and Her God was real. If I was to do this as if it meant nothing would it not be reason enough to be damned to hell?

Biting my lips I let out the breath that I had left in my lungs just a little too long. Walking forward I pushed my fears behind me, it was just a little water wasn't it? Water can't harm you right? Right? Oh, I hope I was right.

Very carefully I copied as Chloe had done; I did so far more quicker than she had, but it had the same feel to it.

Stepping up from the ground I quickly brushed myself off and walked closer to Chloe waiting to see what we would need to do next.

"What now?" I asked unsure of what was to come.

"Confession, naturally." Chloe replied, nodding to me as she walked back down the isle and walked back to these odd boxes that I faintly remembered my mother use to step into when I was younger.

I watched shocked as Chloe opened the door and stepped in; it was a closet type thing. I had no clue that I would be forced to get into such a thing when I agreed to come.

"Wait Chloe!" I suddenly sputtered out, I needed reassurance, I needed guidance, I needed to find a way out of this, because as soon as she was done, I would be expected to go in there.

"Yes Emelia?" Chloe asked sweetly, although I could tell she was slightly annoyed she wanted to go into that closet-type-thing for some weird reason.

"I can't do it, I'm-I'm claustrophobic!" I suddenly cried out worry sketched deeply upon my face.

"So? You would be safe, God is always with you, even in small places." Chloe replied beaming at me as she walked in the Confessional closing the door behind her. She had no clue that, that was exactly what I was worried about.

Taking a deep breath as Chloe was gone inside the box, I tried my best to prepare myself for what was to come. The entire time though I could not help but think that this was just an even smaller version of a dark closet! God I have it! I could not help but feel that I was scared of the silliest of things. Being afraid of the dark, small places, heck even monsters was a stupid and childish thing! It was odd knowing people could do things that I could not. I mean I understood that people all had their strong points, some more than others, but still this should be simple. I should be able to walk in that stupid box and complete what Chloe expected of me.

I should not have to have a stupid rinky-dink nightlight or have an obsession with keeping my Grimoire on me at all times. I should not need such a security blanket! I was not a little girl. Even as I thought this, my fingers reflexively reached into my clutch purse stroking the leathery spine of my book.

Just knowing that I had that book with me gave me a type of comfort that could only be associated with a child and a baby blanket, or Cecelia and her Eeyore doll. It was very childish, and yet, at that point I really did not care.
I needed security; I truly, really needed it. Having that book with me gave me comfort because it represented on a deeper level my power, my family, and my dreams. That book was the single most important possession I had. As hard as it is for me to say it, I loved that book more than the picture I had of my father and I. It just-it just, made things better, you know?

When I was unable to go to my mother with problems I had, I always went to the book. Pages upon pages of information, facts, statistics, spells, things that I could apply breathed life to the text. I can’t imagine how Witches whom don’t have a Grimoire live.

My panic attack, took up most of my time that I could have spent waiting for Chloe. By time she was finished, I had forced my fears and sickness down my throat, like bile. Although I was still petrified of going into that coffin of sorts, (Yes that is what it feels like to me.) I knew that I could do it.

Chloe’s smile as she exited the Confessional did little to settle my heart, but it did give me hope that perhaps she at least had settled her own heart, in a since. Biting my lip a copperish taste entered my mouth; licking my bottom lip I then applied a small amount of pressure to my now bleeding mouth. I really needed to stop the little habit of mine it was rather repulsive. I bit my lip like others bite their nails, but at this moment I couldn’t be troubled with actually stopping.

Taking my signature deep breath I shuffled uneasily into the wooden box. If I had not been terrified of it, I would most likely have found it quite beautiful. The wood was exquisite, made by the best of craftsman; the carvings on the inside matched that of the outside. The Carpenter had paid explicit attention to the work at hand; Angels, clouds, the Gates of Heaven and even Hell were depicted upon the wood.

I almost wanted to snort though at how unrealistic to normal Angel’s the ones on the Confessional were. Most Angel’s I have met in person are not worth the attention this artist spent.

Even the small wooden seat that I was expected to sit on was decorated accordingly. Grudgingly I took my seat upon the stool that was carved out of the Confessional’s wall, as Chloe closed the door.

Taking a slow breath I realized that the room was not dark at all, as the door closed a rather harsh and bright light flickered on above illuminating the carvings and making it that much more astounding. I had to wonder if the priest’s side was as decorated as mine. The small Confessional bench faced a small black tented window that was open about three or four inches at the bottom of the ledge, on the other side I could see a flash of white material that seemed very priest-like in the hole provided. This seemed to signal to me that a priest was actually present.

Looking down at my hand I tried to make out the words that I had written in a black sharpie that I had found in my purse. Okay, so I had kind of cheated by listening to what Chloe was saying to the priest. It could not be helped though; I had to know what I needed to say, didn’t I? Plus, I really wanted to know what an Angel would or would not confess to. On one level I had wanted to know what Chloe, as a person would confess to as well. Perhaps Carla and Rae were right, I was nosey, really though is that unrepentant, more so after the Arya spying, the Tristan spell, the Friday Club thing, oh and let’s not forget the Jasper Picture-Reading incident, (although that one was unintentional).

I had been moderately surprised at what Chloe had admitted though; the girl had spoken a mile-a-second, stating every little vile thought, impression, and desire. If thoroughness counted Chloe was definitely going to Heaven.

Half of the things that she said though, made little since to me; she was very confused, she had been taught that Fallens as well as all others besides Angels were bad, that you were not to be kind or have accepting thoughts towards them. Yet, as a Christian she was expected to be nice, caring, and understanding to all. This made any interaction at all with any person destined to be a sin.

Other Races were to be tolerated or ignored completely. Interaction with any kind except under extreme necessity is reproachable. Chloe as an Angel was expected to tolerate Arya because of her peoples’ alliance with the Angels. Chloe was supposed to be tolerant of Arya and kind only to an extent of keeping peace, not to be her friend. Yet, at the same time Chloe wanted to be very close with those that she was not supposed to care about. In her mind Chloe felt that she was sinful for merely having wants outside of the excepted prejudices.

In Chloe’s mind the only way that she could make having friends and caring about other Races acceptable, was if she converted them, taking one sin and trading it out for a virtue.

That alone made Chloe’s fight this morning make much more since. In her mind she could not be friends with someone who was not saved, or on their way to being saved, or she would be damned on more than one account.

Chloe did not pray for many just the select few; that included Arya, Tristan, and surprisingly me. Apparently my disguise as a knowledgeable Catholic was easily thrown aside by Chloe. She had admitted to the priest that she knew that I was a…

Oh, how did she put it? Oh- Ya, an unworthy heretic but she had quickly saved herself by adding that, I had a willingness for change, and a kind heart.

Hum… Lovely phrasing, but at least she was trying right? Tristan’s prayer was a little less kind. Mostly she hoped that the priest would help her come up with something she could to do help her through this obvious trial from god, on the standing of her holiness.

The regression in the matter of moments from her admitting her love for Tristan was astounding. This I could tell, as well as the priest, that she was trying to find a reason not to be in love with him, and a reason why she was not.

At Chloe mentioning Tristan’s name the priest had taken a less sympathetic and emotionless role. He had told Chloe that her thoughts against others were unjust and very unholy. He even went as so far as to tell her that it was God’s job to put judgment and punishment on others and not hers.

I had recognized the priest’s voice as to be the one Tristan had been talking to originally in the Chapel. Odd, because I knew for a fact that, that certain priest was in fact an Angel himself. Obviously not connected to C.A.T. from his off standing views of the organization. But still, most Angels acted like Chloe, or at least from what I had seen, yet he was different.

Perhaps, just because of that I felt better talking to this man, even if he did not know who I was. Blinking, I forced down the lump in my throat as I quickly read what I had written upon my hand.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” I sputtered out trying my best to read the lines, as a good actress should. Yet, at the same time this did not feel like acting; it felt deeper than that. For some reason saying those words got me choked up.

“How long has it been since your last Confessional?” He asked his voice coming out like whispers upon a tide, that rolled me up and just as quickly spit me out, the supple comfort leaving with his, should have been easily answered, question.

I was not sure what to say to that. I had never been in a Confessional before. Should I have said so? Should I have lied? Neither fit the situation.

“Truthfully, I can not remember Father.” I replied shakingly uncertain of my answer.

“It is understandable with youth these days. One must remember even if preoccupied to take time out for God, but by all means state what is bothering you child.” He said, I could, tell even without seeing him, that he was shaking his head in disappointment.

I was quiet for a moment, what did I have to say? I suppose I had committed a lot of sins more so in the past week, but what in my 16 years was the most important to confess too?

“I-I am unsure of my faith, and am not sure what is wrong and what is right any more.” I replied shakingly. The words that I had spoken most likely gave clue to exactly who I was.

“That is a large problem now isn’t it?” He asked his voice calm and hinted with kindness that I had not expected to receive from my admission.

“Yes, but I am just not sure what to believe. Religion can be so two faced.” I sheepishly replied. My eyes widening after I realized what I had just said.

“Indeed, at times it can be, but you must remember it is not the Religion being two faced, it is the followers that are not being true to what is right.” He stated his voice seemed far away as if he was pondering the question nearly as much as I was.

“The Religion is only as true as its followers are, and how do I know that this is real? How does anyone know? I’m just so confused!” I suddenly burst out, not whispering or trying to keep my voice down anymore, I just wanted answers!

“Confusion is normal, almost all have a break with faith at some point in their lives. People are people, but God is not, he does not have such flaws and detestables as we are plagued with. God is ever standing; his word is absolute and justified to the highest degree. Proof is all around you, God has made everything and everyone, and the bible tells us that we must not ask for any more proof than what is given, if you can believe in God and the truth, with the daily miracles that are produced every second of the day than you are a true follower. One must remember it is not our place to question the word of God, but to follow it like a lamb. If you look within your heart you will find the answers that you desperately seek.” The priest replied his voice seemed to be pleading with me to see reason into what I had just said.

I was quiet for a moment. I was truthfully speechless. I held no thoughts, frankly this confession had only made my confusion much, much, much worse!

“Is that all?” He asked his voice seeming to be picking away at the shield that I had mentally put around myself. Shuttering slightly I nodded, only to remember that he could not see me. Or at least I did not think he could see me.

Rolling my tongue over my dry and cracked lips I forced out the words that I knew where a lie yet at the same time seemed the easiest to say, “yes, that is all Father.”

“If that is so, than I think it would be best if you recite the Act of Contrition after you leave, I think five Hail Mary’s will do.” The priest stated his voice fading off towards the end.

Standing up I reached for the door handle only to be stopped by his voice again.
“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good” The priest added in his voice expectant of something I was supposed to say. Looking down at my hand I recited the other words that were messily scribbled down upon it. “For His mercy endures forever.” I rushed out before swinging the Confessional door open and basically jumping out.

Okay, so perhaps jumping out wasn’t the best idea, but I had felt the need to get out as fast as possible! In my defense I would like to say that the carpenter who had made this Confessional had not thought about the fact that others could trip so easily over the ledge. So, maybe I did ‘slip’ and maybe this did cause me to not only fall myself, but to take down a rather brutish Gabrial as well.

Would it be sinful to say, after just leaving Confessional, that I had felt bliss from hurting someone else? Even if so, that was how I felt. Dare I say, I even felt a little bit smug to see the pain he exhibited while clutching the back of his head. I could not help myself from slightly smiling as I saw his stupid blond locks hit the floor, in a rather risky fashion.

Gabrial’s body in turn had blocked any harm that I would have received. Hum, I think the word I was thinking of was perhaps, ‘Karma?’ After only giving myself seconds to assess my damage, and also checking to see if anyone else was watching, I quickly stood back up. It was simple; fluidness rang in such an action that brushing myself off and walking away, leaving Gabrial stunned on the floor, seemed of little importance, or value.

I wanted to believe that if it were anyone else that I had knocked on the floor I would have helped him or her back up. Sadly, I had doubt in such a thought, I would admit if the person had a bothersome look about them, or was a race that I did not agree with, I would find it difficult not to just exit the scene as quickly as possible.

As I walked away from the shocked, floor-bound Gabrial I had expected him to cause something, or possibly say something that I would not enjoy. Yet, he did not. For some reason, he allowed me to walk away, nothing said, and nothing done to intensify the situation. A very odd action for him to exhibit, but needless to say I was pleased by the outcome.

Walking back out into the main Chapel room, I found out exactly why no one was around when I ran into Gabrial. It seemed as if the nuns had disappeared. The rest of the room which was made up of maybe twelve or so Angels stood in a circle around the staircase that lead to the first floor. I found this odd, and could not help but wonder what exactly was going on.

Each blond head’s back greeted me as I approached from behind. As I got closer it became apparent to me that something was entirely wrong, angry whispers turned into bitter voices as I came closer. Although it was hard to see through the semi-circle that had been formed, I could tell that someone was having an argument.

Disbelief and shock filled my body all at the same moment, I had no doubt at the sound of a new voice what was happening. His voice although elevated to a level of anger and annoyance was still the same thick, husky sound. Pushing my way through the sea of blonds I was astounded that my ears had in fact been correct, the voice had belonged to none other than Fredrick.

Shoving my way to the center of the lynch-mob group, I was given dirty looks and sized up only seconds after my appearance. By the looks that I was receiving it was clear that I was thought of as no better than Fredrick. Maybe I would have shirked away after receiving those looks, had it not been for the fact that Phillipe stood clutching Fredrick’s hand. That made my mind even more determined to stop what ever was beginning to form in this mob’s mind.

Looking at the fuming faces it was easy to tell that Campton was leading this gang of irate Angels. His voice, which rang out in his best attempt to seem authoritative, still sounded like honey drizzled in tar.

“Vampires, are not welcome in such a holy place, you would do well to remember that.” Campton seethed out his voice dripping with distain. Looking around I noticed Chloe standing insecurely on the sidelines of Campton. A minion in the seed of a lynch mob. I had to wonder if those words of acceptance and forgiveness would just be thoughts in the presence of others.

“I don’t think that You, have the authority to tell Him, to leave. In fact, I think it is none of your business or any of you guys’ business as to who worships here, it is a public place set up by the school.” I stated stepping forward. This was not right; even I had to admit that.

No one deserved to be turned out just because of something like this. Plus, Campton was a toad. He stood on the grounds of lies and hatred to make a point. This made little since to me, he showed little goodness in his heart, even though he forced himself, like Chloe, off as a Christian he showed little good qualities.

“Ha, I am being told off by another Spawn of Satan, Necromancers are just as unjust and unholy as Vampires. All we are missing is a Demon to make this group of disgusting sin complete! Who are you to enter a holy place such as this?” Campton practically spat at me. His voice quickly became booming with the sound of pure hatred and abhorrence.

“We are the sinners? How rich is that you sorry excuse for an Angel. It is sad when you can find Demons whom are more hospitable than Angels. That really says something doesn’t it?” I growled out, this was really pissing me off. Perhaps Necromancers were not known for having the nicest reputation when it comes to Holy aspects. Vampires also were not know for too much faith, yet Phillipe was not evil. This was nothing but cruel and wrong.

“How dare you, do you know who I am?! I am the son of Balthazar the Elder and Supreme Leader of the Children of the Angels of Time! I am holy upon all rights, and have a connection with God himself! God will smite you for such words against me!” Campton screamed out, anger and rage finally taking him over.

“Campton, calm yourself. Emelia has a point! In the bible is says to love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who insult you and persecute you! We are not following that rule, and she has a valid point; It is not our place to judge, but Gods’ place. Perhaps we should be not angry but happy that Fredrick decided to come here, repentance is something that needs to be taken into accord, is it not?” Chloe stated shakily breaking into the fight that was insuring. I watched as her eyes widened as Campton’s hand came only inches from her face. He had meant to slap her for arguing with him, only not hitting her face because Fredrick had in a split second reached forward and pushed Campton heavily to the ground.

Chloe and I watched, mouths agape, as Campton hit the floor with a thud. His anger boiling to a max as his followers helped him up from the ground. I suppose a bigger fight would have ensued had it not been for the quick interference of the priest who calmed things down to an uncomfortable yet nonviolent level.

That though did not stop Campton from uttering a threatening bible verse under his breath to me as he passed, “thou shall not suffer a Witch to live.” The words even though expectant were hurtful still the same. Campton had said nothing to Chloe or Fredrick, but had singled me out for his anger. The words were scary to me, those same words had been used for centuries to offer reason to heinous murders caused by insane Witch-Hunts.

Worry had consumed me as I sat in my pew. Panic present in my mind, my body was tense, shivers of displeasure traveled up my spine from my lower back. The quivers continued beating into a small part at the back of my head, causing a headache to occur.

When I became worried this would often happen, making this event not a surprise but still equally annoying all the same. The Mass seemed to go rather quickly to me, the annoyance in my head, and the feeling of uneasiness making paying attention rather impossible. I had too much on my plate at the moment, it seemed if right now everything that I had some how managed to push away had found itself present in my head.

Making a new enemy was not something I wanted to do. Hell, all I wanted was to pass my classes and make it out of this school alive, perhaps even go on a few dates with Jasper, I wasn’t asking for a lot.

Yet still, my mind swam over the fact that I was in trouble. I had more enemies than I could count and the list was still growing. Although I was making friends, it seemed to me that it would have been so much easier if I had stayed to myself and been alone. Being by myself was just another security blanket that I loved. I could not help it, I worked better by myself, I had always operated this way, now that things were changing I found it rather hard to adapt.

The pain of my situation hit me and made the small breakfast that I had eaten bash and move in my stomach. I felt as though each worry made me sicker. Putting a hand over my mouth I felt as though I would be sick. Quickly I whispered to Chloe that I would need to leave, I also told her not to wait for me. I could find a way home myself.

Running from the Chapel I received dirty looks and smirks from others, perhaps they thought my sickness was divinely received? Even if it was I knew that if I threw up in church I would be even more screwed than I already was, so I tailed ass out of the room.

I only reached outside with seconds to spare. My lungs burned as bile pushed its way up my throat. Dropping to my knees I allowed the vomit to leave my body, retching I allowed my body to purge itself as my emotions and thoughts calmed down to a reasonable level.

Throwing up was not something pleasant, or something I did often, but even I had to admit it took care of things. It was not that I had purposefully done so, yet at the same time I could not help but be happy at the outcome. As the bile left my throat so did the worries and troubles. Not permanently, but still it was noticeably enough, that I enjoyed not having to deal with it anymore.

I must make it clear it was not my intent to puke in the first place, at times my emotions took control of me and I was left to their desires. I had to wonder if part of my sickness had not only to do with my worry but the power that rested in my body.

As Tristan had said, I held a large amount of power at a normal level, but it would only make since that when frightened or worried my body would react, creating even more power for me to use at my disposal. Or at least that is how it seemed to me.

When things would go bad when I was younger, I would always find a surge of energy, and along with that a serge of power. Although if worried enough, and if dwelled on enough, I would surly find myself not only filled with mental pain, but physical pain as well.

Hell, the week after I had first realized my energy after meeting Vincent, I had been puking non-stop, my mother had announced it as stomach-flu but I had sensed at the time that it was something even viler.

It was not hard to grow weary of having power as I did. There were many rules, and things that I could or couldn't do, or the consequences would be as they were now.

I doubted Rose had such problems!

Not that I doubted that she had great magic, but at the same time I found it hard to believe that more notable races of Witches had such problems with their powers.

Sure mine could be far more useful at times, but it came at such a cost. Rose's would not threaten her life, or health.

Yet, I had to be constantly careful. Rose controlled her magic, my magic controlled me.

I had to keep myself at a level headed state, I had to stay emotionless, the key was to keep my magic at a very stable level. Stability was life!

If my magic level became to low I would be threatened with death, or pain that no one would wish for. Necromancers who over exert themselves find this likely to happen. Using more magic then they held within their bodies led to the energy then being sucked from their life-force. Killing them of course.

Yet, at the same time, if I allowed myself to bottle up too much energy or magic that grew whether too fast or over a period of time I would become sick, as now, and then go crazy as Tundry had if left uncared for.

Even using great magic with a limit could be harmful; helping Tristan had proved that I had little control over my own magic. That scared me; I could not shut it off, as I should have been able to. Even after my fight I was radiating energy making any magical receptors active with my approach.

It sounds confusing when stated like that but I guess it could be easily noted as like flipping the switch to an automatic light, and forgetting to turn it off. Ya'know, the kind that turns on in the presence of movement of any kind?

That is why I use my magic accordingly, on small things. I suppose now though that because I spend so much time with Jasper, I could use larger energy, as my power would grow, he would be constantly sucking some of it away, keeping me level. That's why Ghosts are so useful to Necromancers, they have the potential to help us achieve greater success.

But, there was no Ghost, to help me right now. I could tell that I needed to work off a little bit of my energy or I would only get worse. So sighing I picked myself off the ground, wiping my mouth before going back inside the Chapel, walking into the nearest bathroom and cleaning myself up.

After I was satisfied with my appearance I quietly left the Chapel, walking back into the school. My stomach felt sore as I continued to walk. I knew that I needed to stop and express some amount of energy, or I would most likely be sick again.

Looking around me, I realized that I had no clue where I was in the castle, I assumed that I was still on the first floor, but as to where I was I had no clue! This may have seemed bad, but it bothered me very little. The hallway seemed unoccupied enough, so checking the doors, I looked for one that was not occupied or locked.

After searching for a moment I finally found one that suited my needs. Although the lights were off, the room was lit with the light that was streaming through the windows. The room was dusty, giving into the fact that no one had been in the room for quite a while.

The room was simple enough; it was a plain white color. The room was decorated with a chalkboard, a teacher’s desk up front, and about twenty-four single person desks. Walking forward I closed the door silently behind me, not daring to make a sound to give reason for someone to find me.

I did not really want an audience I needed privacy. I wanted to just relax, let off energy and get some well-needed advice. Pulling out my Grimoire I flipped the pages, stopping as I found what I had been looking for.

In front of me on the delicate pages of my old book laid the picture of a woman, she was not much older than me in the picture. The sketches well done and efficient enough for what I needed to do. After placing the book, with the page open, on the table, I reached into my purse and grabbed my sewing-needle. Taking it out of my purse I pricked one of my fingers, watching as a single drop of blood bubbled to the surface of my fingertips. Pursing my lips, I ignored the small stinging sensation.

Tipping my finger over, I allowed the small drop of blood to fall off my finger and landed splotchy upon her face. I watched as the blood pricket soaked into the page absorbing it as though hungry. Closing my eyes I allowed myself to calm down, letting my breath steady as I forced my magic out of my body.

Even though I knew what I was doing, I was still surprised by her presence. Standing in front of me was Clarrissa in all of her glory. This may sound odd, I needed advice, and instead of calling my father I called Clarrissa instead.

I would have to admit that I called upon her more than my father. Although clearly I loved him, the conversations were odd, he often told me things that I did not want to hear. Although I suppose that I disliked calling upon him often was that he often had things to parent me about upon my behavior and the things I kept from my mother. No doubt he was smiling knowing that in the end he won, the letter was in the mail, and soon mother would know as much as he did.

I had to wonder what my mother would think when she found out that I could call father out at any time, yet, had not done so for her. I was scared at the time to tell her about seeing him, only because it would give wind to what had occurred. I had to wonder what part of the letter would bother her more, the fact of me not telling her what had been happening, or not sharing my ability to call father back for her.

I have to admit that I have been feeling more powerful since I arrived at the school. I think that being around so many magical people has given me more power. It would make sense. Usually it took much longer to call someone out, unless I was in extreme danger. Which at the moment I was not.

I think, I called her out because I knew no matter what I said she would not judge me. She has been through much that I have. Her life was like my mother’s, although she is my father’s great-grandmother.

She worked hard all her life, raising children and dedicating herself to bettering the Grimoire for her future heirs. I have called her out five or so times before, the first few done with extreme caution; even as to bind her to a circle, just to make sure things went smoothly. It was a needed precaution, I had admired her work in my book, yet at the same time it was undeniable that she had a fascination for the more unpleasant type of Witchcraft, the sort that led to those awful scary bedtime stories as a child.

Although she died at a middle-age, when I summoned her she always appeared quite young, I would say around perhaps 16-or-18, of course that was when she had her picture added into the book for future summoning. Something I really needed to get on by the way.

Looking over I smiled briefly at her, my smile not fully encompassing my face. Her face was just as I remember. It was easy to see where I got my physical features. We had the same large blue eyes, as expected, the same curly blackish-brown hair, and overall body composition. Unlike me, her nose was far pointier, her ears were smaller, and she had prominent frown lines.

“You summoned?” Clarrissa asked, her lips pulled into a rather nerve wracking smirk. Obviously she found something about this situation rather humorous.

“Oh, God, what’s with the seriousness, Clarrissa, really, now?” I replied rolling my eyes at her mock earnestness.

“Hey, you are not supposed to question your elders, Little-Missy!” Clarrissa replied an elder touch filling her face as she wagged a finger at me. I bit back a laugh as I reminded myself that although she may look my age she was in fact my elder.

“Sorry, your appearance….” I replied shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly.

“I thought that appearing so would please you? Most, Breathers do not enjoy seeing me as old as I truly am, skeletons should not talk, I suppose. “ Clarrissa stated laughing at the odd look I was giving her.

“Um… No, perhaps your age is fine for now?” I asked uncertain.

“So be it. Although I must say though, that keeping you in check has been rather tiring, even for the dead. Would it be too much to ask of you to keep out of trouble?” Clarrissa asked her voice keen and sharp.

My brow furrowed as I thought about what she had said. Quietness ensued between us as both of us tried to think of what to say to her outburst.

Nodding to her comment I pulled myself upon one of the desks. Allowing myself to relax. I swung my feet off the front of the desk loudly clapping them together as I sucked on my pinpricked finger.

Clarrissa on the other hand was pacing. She loved to pace back and forth. I had noticed that from the first time I had summoned her.

I was her heir so I needed to show respect to her, but I had a feeling that she looked down upon me at the moment for not taking control of the situation.

I was a Necromancer, and not just that but the holder of the Grimoire, I should be in full control. Clarrissa as a ‘Passer-On’ should be at my full command. In a way I think she wanted me to be harsh. Odd sounding I know, but I felt the need to make myself more in control and make the conversation less casual. As the Summoner I should be given high respect.

“I want you to explain yourself, Clarrissa, why are you aware of things that I had done?” I asked forcing annoyance on my face. I hated having to do it, but I knew this was what she expected and wanted. I needed to at least seem like I was in control or we would be going nowhere with this conversation.

“I am not sure I want to tell you.” She stated a smirk firm upon her face, to her this was a game, she was testing me to see if I had what it took to be a real Necromancer, or if I just had the Power not the control. She did this each time we would meet.

“Fine, have it your way, I’m sure I have a banishing spell on me, one of the rather painful ‘Straight to Hell’ kind that you, so happened to, have invented for my use.” I growled out forcing unreal anger and threats upon my breath as though naturally done so.

“Wow, hardly into the conversation and you have started the violence threats, quite an improvement since last time, power is everything after all. For trying so hard, I think I will let you into a little secret, if you must know I am keeping an eye on you. It gives me something to do.” Clarrissa replied shrugging. My blood boiled at what she said, although I had passed the ‘test’, I was still being treated as a child.

“What do you mean you have been ‘watching me?’” I asked anger filling my face.

“Well, I have been told to do so.” Clarrissa said shrugging again as she paced the room one more.

“By who?” I asked true annoyance written upon my face.

“Ahh, wouldn’t you like to know! Unfortunately I am not allowed to mention whom. But I will say that your spells won’t be nearly as bad as what will happen when the person who sent me found out, so I truly will not tell you.” Clarrissa stated shaking her head as she padded across the room yet again.

"Fine, have it your way, but I order you to tell me exactly what you have seen and done." I added shaking my head anger boiling in my blood.

“Ha, getting testy now aren’t you little-one, you make an old woman proud. I must admit although not Necromancers you do surround yourself with quite the verity of sexy young men. I must admit I have such a school-girl crush on that Fallen you have taken under that wing of yours! Very hot, and let me tell you being invisible has so many delightful perks. The boy ‘Tristan’ I think, enjoys taking such a late shower, midnight every night. Oh, if I was 100 or so years younger and not Dead-Dead, I would so take a go at that.” Clarrissa said in a gushy sort of way. That reminded me to give Tristan a pendant that would keep her away. He did not need the Dead-Dead, forming an attachment to him, Clarrissa or not.

I could not help but realize that Tristan drawled in all the Crazy girls, first Chloe, Angie, Tundry *who I could tell had a large crush on him*, Mimi had showed some interest and now... Clarrissa, the boy was a chick magnet, what can I say?

Was I the only girl that was not all Hot&Heavy for Tristan-Anthony-Stone? That was the million dollar question, now wasn’t it?

“That does not answer my question Clarrissa, what else have you seen? And what else have you caused?” I asked accusing her of tampering with things that were none of her business.

“You have little faith in me Emelia-Darling, really now! I have only been keeping you safe, I have been with you since you first stepped out of your mother’s car. Intervening only when a time presented itself. I must say that you got yourself in trouble quite a bit.” Clarrissa replied laughing at the look upon my face.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked shaking my head in disapproval, that meant that Clarrissa had been there when I was with Jasper, although we had not kissed yet, our dancing time had been private and not for her to see.

“Who do you think saved your snot-nosed ass when you decided to go play freaking Froger with Tundry’s vines?” Clarrissa stated a smirk upon her face, which quickly changed to a frown as a loud sound ripped trough the room.

Turning abruptly I was face to face with three teen guys. I would not have thought much of them had it not been for their very familiar Necromancer eyes.