Our Deathly Love

I self-consciously touched my neck feeling the small line that had been scarred from the mirror. It was little more than a white line, which did not really show up against my skin, but I knew exactly where it is, exactly how long it is, and exactly how long it took to stop the bleeding.

That was the only thing; besides my memories, that was left from that night. Although I am scared of that night more than anything... I can't help the feeling of loving it as well. I learned so many things that night, which have shaped me to be who I am now. I found out where I belong in the Witch community: I was a Necromancer; I could control Ghosts as well as help them move on.

Ghosts are like people. Totally not what people make them out to be as, white sheet-like creatures. They can eat; they can sleep, and can do any thing Humans can. What makes them so different is that they do not age. Well, until you help them work out their problems, that is. Once that is worked out they can age as they please or just move on to be a Passer-on. My father is a Passer-on. Passer-ons are not Ghosts. They may act like Ghosts but they aren't; they live in a different reality, what most call Heaven, or Hell if their lives were led badly. Or at least that is what people assume, because Passer-on’s aren’t giving any details about the afterlife if there even is one.

The only way to call a Passer-on is to draw the blood of a Necromancer, which explains why my father was able to come out and help. Because of my blood that was being spilt by the Vampire, I got to see my father again.

See, although it may sound great to just keep Passer-ons out all the time, it's not. The longer the Passer-on is out, the weaker the Necromancer becomes. Many great Witches have died because of their own foolishness, or selfishness.

The other thing I learned that night that has served me well in the last seven years was not to trust those that I am not fully sure of. People are looking out for themselves and I need to be aware of that, and the only person that I can truly 100 percent trust, is myself.

So I know as I clutch my bags and get out of my mother's old car that this trip, this school, won't be as easy or happy as my mother and Pandora make it out to be; in fact, it might as well be hell.

I clutch my bag tightly as I get on the bus. I notice right away there are 15 students already on the bus. The bus was property of the school’s. This bus was one of the seven to maybe ten, I don't remember which, sent out to collect students. It was a mix between one of those crappy bright yellow school buses and a Greyhound. It had an underhand storage compartment for our trunks. The inside was big, yellow, and had those crappy cracked leather bench seats that are freezing in the winter and; like now, smelting in the summer.

I picked a seat in the middle of the bus although some people tried to wave me over. I blatantly ignored them. As I sat down in my seat, I scooted over to the window on the smooth seats, ignoring that stupid red line that politely tells you to keep the window over its bright red Sharpie-made mark. I made sure to pull it all the way down, smirking at the mark as if to say, "Make me." Childish I know but equally gratifying all the same.

The sunlight streamed in the bus, its hot, dry, yellow rays drenched the bus in light. I heard a few hisses from the back of the bus. The hisses explained why the window was tinted.

"Stupid Vamps," I muttered bitterly to myself, ignoring them. I took off my extra shirt leaving my purple panda undershirt the only thing to protect my arms. I wanted to soak up as much of the sunlight as I could so I laid down in the seat crossing my legs and laying them out in the isle. My flair jeans shaped me perfectly; I had on a pair of canvas sneakers, my favorite pair tied tightly on my feet. My hair was left curling in my face, tickling my cheecks with their long curls. I turned my iPod on, sighing as I did; knowing it was going to be a very long day, four hours on the bus, going to different airports and bus stops picking up the brats that would be my classmates, then an hour long drive to the castle. Yes, you heard me right: castle. Okay, I'm a Witch and I'm going to a castle but no I do not know Harry Potter. Plus, face it: I would so own Harry Potter. Hello I can control and summon legions of the undead! Avada Kedavra that!

I rolled over to my side so I could grab my shoulder bag; I shuffled through the pens and sharpies (not quills, how could anyone get any work done with those incredibly over-dramatic feathers?) Finally satisfied I grabbed my favorite book, Impulse by Ellen Hopkins. I inhaled the worn out pages that smelled like fresh cut grass and leaves, mainly because I had left the book up in the tree that I often read in.

I soaked up the sun from the window taking in a deep breath. I listened to No Doubt, as it streamed through my earphones, relaxing and ignoring all of the stifle talk around me.

I was totally fine with the way things were at the moment. I would have lain there all day, if it hadn't been for this jerk that decided to get all touchy.

I wrenched up into a sitting position when a guy with medium-brown hair and bright green eyes flicked his nasty long fingers across my stomach, licking his lips.

"What the heck do you think you are doing Oliver?" A girl with radiantly curly white-blonde hair said, getting up out of her seat and striding over to us. She was wearing a white-sleeved blouse over a yellow camisole that went into her white jeans that had patchworks of pink, yellow, and ice blue on it, as well as a matching headband. She was a model, you could just tell. She tapped her fingers repeatedly at her waist, while her crystal blue eyes scanned the situation.

"Well, Chloe, not that it's any of your business but I was introducing myself to this lovely thing," he said, flashing me his best smile.

"Not interested!" I replied glaring as I smacked his hands away. He glared and stomped angrily away until a girl with white hair pulled back into a braid held out one of her long legs where he promptly tripped and landed face first in the isle.

There was a rupture of laughter as Chloe and the white haired girl moved to sit next to me. As the girl with the white hair came closer I noticed she had bright brown eyes, and was wearing track shorts and a sport bra under a button up blue shirt that was only buttoned half way up. The girl extended her arm to me; I reluctantly took it. “Hi, I'm Arya. That's Chloe," she said jabbing her thumb at Chloe who was pulling a fuzzy off of her white socks.

"Um... I'm Emelia," I said grabbing my book unsure what to do next, when suddenly Arya erupted.

"Oh my gosh, I love Impulse!" she said, sitting in the seat in front of me, although at this point she was mostly in the isle.

"I think your both crazy! Ellen Hopkin's books are so depressing!" Chloe said as she shook her head disapprovingly.

"Oh Chloe, you just don't understand she isamazing!" Arya said wide-eyed at Chloe.

"The Bible is much better, so is Sara Dressen! Now she is a real writer!" Chloe added brightly. Arya nodded her head in agreement.

"Sara Dressen is boss, but come on the Bible's a bit biased for you Clo. You are an Angel. That's like me saying I love the Three Little Pigs for the wolf!" Arya mused,

"Or Little Red Riding Hood!" I added brightly, before I could stop myself.

"Exactly! See, Em's gets it! Oh, and I hope calling you Em's is all right. Your name is just ungodly long!"

"Watch the 'G' word Arya!" Chloe replied jumping in.

"My nickname is Emmy, but Em's is fine," I said, wondering why they were talking to me. Before you get me wrong, I was not feeling that I was not worthy of talking to them; I just wanted to know why they had to bother me. Half of me was enthralled by this conversation but half of me, was rather annoyed.

"So Ems, see any cute boys on the bus yet?" Arya asked, flashing her eyes in a predatory motion. It rather reminded me of a wolf stalking its prey.

"Gosh Arya, you look like you want to eat them, not date them," Chloe giggled softly, flipping her hair. I bumped in my seat as the bus stopped outside an airport.

Arya giggled, "We're picking up the Americans on this stop!"

"How do you know?" Chloe said raising her eyebrows.

"Well I may happen to have this!" Arya smirked pulling out a sheet of paper. " It has the stops, and who we will be picking up on it!" Arya said, her eyes scanning the crowd now surrounding the bus, who were loading their trunks into the undercarriage. I had to wonder to what means Arya had taken to get such a map.

"Quick question: how can we all speak the same language?" I said, suddenly curious, not to mention completely off topic.

"I think there is a spell put around everyone who signed the permission slip... At least that's what I think it is," Chloe said, watching Arya, whose eyes were scanning hungrily the small crowd.

"Clo; Em, what will we ever do with so many cute boys?" Arya asked as she smiled radiantly.

I wanted to tell her that I wanted nothing to do with guys. Frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with her, or Chloe for that matter. I was not use to such friendliness, and bluntly I did not have much else to say. You would think I would because I never really got the chance to talk before, but suddenly I was speechless and realized it was much easier to be alone then having friends.

Truthfully, all the idle chitchat was tiring. So I just did the easy thing and nodded to what they said and responded in a 'Yes', 'No' 'I never really thought about it' fashion’, as I watched the teens load on the bus.

They all pretty much looked alike, your average run-of-the-mill teens. Except for some oddly colored hair, eyes, and sometimes-even skin. Not to mention most had out-dated clothes, but pretty normal besides the fact, if you asked me.

Most of the conversations seemed pretty normal too. Mostly nice things and chitchat, all well and balanced not as much as a frown on the bus... Well except the sulking and rejected Oliver who kept glaring at us, but still pretty calm nonetheless. Well until the Americans got on; then all hell broke loose.

The first person to walk onto the bus was a boy; he had ash grey eyes with bits of honey and red in them. He had a sheepish expression upon his face like he was dreading this as much as I was; he stared out of his blackish-brown mop of a thing he called hair. He seemed to grow more and more content at how we looked until his eyes met Chloe, then he looked a mix of things ranging from apologetic, depressed, and at last angry.

Chloe flicked her eyes at him, giving him a cold stare, never even breaking the deep conversation she was having with Arya about running.

The boy froze; a plead seemed to be in his eyes as Chloe brushed him off. The boy, looking agitated, slinked into the first seat on the bus, not uttering a word. I was confident they knew each other, although the looks on their faces screamed they wished they didn't. Perhaps he was an old boyfriend, an old friend, or, even worse, an old rival. I knew the truth would not be out for a while so I slammed the thought to the back of my brain. I was good at those types of things; pushing unwanted things away; it was one of the things that made my life bearable.

But besides the look that he happened to have he was to be the least troubling, rude, or annoying person to get on.

The next big problem to occur was when a boy with blue-hair walked by hastily and rather clumsily with his band instrument. He knocked Arya's purse over, spilling out its contents of five pill bottles, a pack of sugar free gum, a pack of Tic-Tacs and a tube of Very-Cherry lip gloss, which went spiraling to the floor. The jerk kept walking, muttering a sorry as he went by.

A very mortified Arya whipped out of her seat in a hurry to grab the pill bottles. I guess it should bother me or make me suspicious why she was taking so many pills but I, unlike most people, have learned that some secrets were best kept.

A boy with black hair and sharp, happy blue eyes abruptly stopped to help Arya pick up the contents of her purse, causing the plastic Barbie behind him to walk right into him, knocking her bright pink bedazzled iPhone right out of her acrylic nailed fingers mid-text.

"What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks do you think your doing, fag?! This was a 400 dollar freaking phone!" she screamed, waving wildly at her phone, which Arya smirking kicked farther down the isle. The girl angrily snatched up the phone turning her back on Arya, which, by queen-bee books, was the most extreme diss you could give.

"Calm down Mimi, you wouldn't want to get frown lines on your fake little face because if your freaking out about a 400 dollar phone, you obviously can't afford Botox. So shut that little yippy, fake, collagen-induced, dollar store lip gloss mouth of yours up and go to the back of the bus, like the little wanna-be you are!" the boy smirked raising his eyebrows as Mimi stepped forward as though she was going to hit him square across the face. Chloe, taking the mother with the fighting children role, stepped in.

"Now Mimi, it was just a phone. Get over it. I don't think Pandora would like us in her office before school has even started. So both of you calm down and sit down," she said, giving Mimi her very best Ice-Queen glare. Then she pulled the boy down into the seat next to her, as if grabbing the hand of a complete stranger was normal morning protocol for her.

Chloe promptly ignored Mimi after this point, not even turning to watch as Mimi stomped angrily away. Although, apparently, forgive and forget was not in Arya's handbook because as soon as Chloe was not looking her way she flipped Mimi off with a smirk of victory.

Chloe was talking eagerly to the boy who now that I was closer I could see was a few years younger then us. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater, although it was unbearably hot on the bus. He seemed cool and collected. I paid close attention to what he was saying as he talked with a bright smile on his face.

His name was Mikey Boulevard. He was 15, and, surprisingly, a clothing designer. He had a few clothing lines out and unsurprisingly was flaming gay.

I looked at Chloe at that revelation sure that would bother her. She was a strict Roman-Catholic, she had mentioned so right off the back, but instead of repulsion like I was suspecting; she held a small smile and patted his hand in an understanding way as if he was a child who believed in the Tooth Faerie, not a 15-year-old gay kid. I don't think he appreciated the sympathy, but he kept his mouth closed.

He did, though, pull his hand away from hers and went to watching the isle as the last of the students boarded the bus, and uncomfortable silence followed. So I put my headphones in and looked out my window in a trance.

I watched as the crowds moved, how life moved outside the window at the busy airport. I watched in particular as a little girl, dressed up in a purple dress and black tights, rode piggyback on her cheerful-looking father's back. He was smiling so brightly and talking to the girl as they walked, acting like the weight of the girl was very little. Sadness filled me as I saw them walking, him smiling, her happily bouncing along. I remember a time when I could do that with my father. I wonder, if he was still alive, if we would have outings, and go places. Would I be thankful for the time we had together, or by this time would I be grateful to get away and be unsatisfied with what I have, taking for granted his love?

I lost track of the girl when Arya pulled out my headphones rather roughly.

"Earth to Emmy, this Cutie wants to sit next to you!" Arya gushed, pointing to a boy who was standing in the isle next to my seat. He had a serious look upon his face. His nose was crinkled up as thought he hadn't enjoyed the comment; his brown eyes, which were rimmed with a woodsy green, stared at me; he looked embarrassed. I nodded slowly, not sure what to do as I peered out through my long lashes. I said hi, catching that his name was Jasper, an oddly formal name for this time.

Witches were constantly giving formal names to their kids, although I was not sure he was a Witch. He seemed extremely formal, too formal for this time. Although his eyes, which were Witch-eyes, made him positively not a Vampire. I'm guessing my constant glances told him I was confused so he nicely put me out of my misery.

"I'm a Ghost. Boooooo." he said, rolling his hypnotic eyes and ruffling his unruly black hair. I nodded silently to myself, answering my suspicions, to as why he really wanted to sit next to me. To him I must be a beacon of light. Like the freaking Energizer-Bunny, for Christ’s-sake!

"You're really cute when you hold conversations in your head," he replied, giving me a shy smile as he pulled out a clipboard, and a pencil from his bag. I stared wide-eyed at him wondering if he really said what I think he just said...

"Um, thanks," I added uncomfortably. "Wait-unless your trying to impose I'm off my rocker and, if you are, so help me!" I rambled on angrily, giving him a glare. He just gave me a small smile as though he was enjoying this. Of course he was enjoying my stupidity; who wouldn't?

"You're quite silly, you know that?" he added, not answering my question. He smiled, nodding contently with his comment and started to draw. He seemed to zone off, like whatever he was drawing was the most important thing in the world to him. So I felt it was necessary to save the rest of my pride and to leave him be. I laid my head against the back of the black leather seat, and put my headphones in. Blissfully entranced in the music, I fell into a deep sleep.