Do As I Say

Chapter One

Cree Mournjay had never shed a tear in her life. She had never quivered, never sobbed or sighed. It was as if she didn't feel any emotion at all. But then again, why would she? She was perfectly fine just the way she was. She didn't need gold or jewels or food or a hot bath. She was decently mutual when it came to life.

Of course, that didn't mean she was happy.

Cree awoke to the stray cat that slept on her feet at night yowling. The small, portable television was blinking, going from a fuzzy news lady to the usual irritating static. She lurched forward, arms stretching towards the telly. Her long, elegant fingers groped for the antenna, fixing it so it pointed exactly southwest of her rickety bed.

The black, mangy cat quit its whining the moment the static flickered and stopped. With the static at rest, she could feel the unnerving silence that blanketed this part of Finn's Drop return to her pathetic house. Eyes drooping, she turned the volume up, anything to escape this quiet. The news lady's voice came through in bursts, the connection still not perfect.

Cree moved forward, sliding her behind over the creaky and moth-eaten mattress, her eyes trained on the lady's cool mask. "Another tragic report has been sent in from the locals here at Finn's Drop," The lady had a tight tweed vest on, which covered her newly-ironed blouse underneath. She spoke in a phony accent and her eyes kept shifting off camera. Clearly, she was a replacement for the usual reporter.

"A shocking armed robbery has just recently happened at the city's most prestigious bank," Cree had two thoughts about the lady's "shocking news". One: how was it so shocking if the city was completely overruled by criminals? No one could or would stop them. The Ghouls didn't care as long as they stayed in the Mortal region and away from the Eastern area. And two: "prestigious"? Seriously? If a bank is the only one in the city and for cities all around and doesn't have any competition, how would this make the bank prestigious?

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she smacked the brown box's side twice. The telly snapped off and the stray cat yowled, only quieter than before, as if the feline were only slightly disappointed in the shutting off of the only noisy thing for miles.

She had barely hit the nearly-broken boards of the floor when she heard a frail voice call out from the room next to hers.

"Cree?" A raspy voice called out in the dank silence.

Cree tugged on her faded yet trustworthy black boots and clumped over to the opposite room.

A lantern sat beside the queen-sized bed on a lopsided end table, its flame dancing in its stained and smudged glass case. She could barely see anything in the small dank room, but she didn't need to. Cree had memorized where everything was in this room from all her midnights spent stumbling in here, responding to her grandmother's hushed cries.

"Hey, Gran," Cree murmured, her hand resting on her grandmother's blisteringly hot forehead.

"Cree, dear, I don't feel so well," Whispered the grandmother.

"It's just a fever, Gran, it'll pass." She said dryly.

She licked her dry lips as her Gran shifted under the thin blankets.

The old and weary woman smiled, "Nothing fazes you, Cree, just like your mama."

Cree didn't choke down a wounded sob, didn't as much as flinch. She had trained herself to believe that mourning someone who you had barely known was a waste of the time she had for scavenging.

"And that's what killed her."

"Gran," Her eyes widened for a split second; the most facial expression she'd used all week. Gran had never talked down on either of Cree's deceased parents.

"Now you listen to me," With a sudden surge, Gran grabbed a fistful of Cree's shirt and brought her up close to her wrinkled face. Her breath was hot, quick and fevered. Cree's amber eyes widened as Gran didn't stumble over one of her words, "You must not tell anyone when you start hearing them. You're different, Cree, and the Ghoul's don't like different, especially not with Mortals. Harness it to change Finn's Drop, but don't you dare use it with a child's stupidity."

Cree stared stupidly. She didn't understand what on earth her simple, kindly grandmother was spitting about. Was she going mad? But Gran looked so...so sure in what she was saying that Cree couldn't help but fall into a wide-eyed hush while she rambled.

"Remember," Gran hissed, her breaths coming in more frantically. "Bugs be scared, and scream when shoved. Sing backwards and seeds will sow. Sing forwards and seeds will rot. Careful of the empty spaces, for it is never enough." And with that Gran fell back, fingers releasing its clutch. Her eyes stayed open, watchful. Cree sat on the edge of the bed, still hovering where her face had been just moments before.

She sat, unblinking, for the minutes to come. What had just happened? Her grandmother's words spun in her mind, whispering in her ears. After a long while the words slipped into a corner of her mind and rested; a snake coiled and ready to attack again at any moment.

"Right, Gran," Cree murmured. Absentmindedly, she placed a quivering hand on her Gran's roasting forehead. "You're heating up again." She swallowed and stood, bed whining at her for leaving. She sighed and slunk over to the barrel of water. As she dipped a ratty rag into the lukewarm water she decided firmly that she wouldn't think about the words her Gran had just poisoned her with any longer. Cree had much more vital things to be taking care of than wasting her time brooding about the cryptic warnings.

She returned to the bed and placed the sopping wet cloth on her Gran's forehead. Gran's eyes had fluttered shut and the normal, relaxed expression she always wore, even when she was ill, returned.

"Cree?" Gran whispered dryly, "I don't feel so well."

Cree left the room.