NECROMANTIC

twenty five.

Somehow, despite all those horrifying things he'd just told me, Marcus still had an appetite, and he ate the majority of the food. He encouraged me to eat, too, but I was struggling not to curl up into a little ball enough as it was, without having the ability to take a fork and knife and eat a fucking pancake.

When he was done, he waved a hand, smiling brightly to signal over a waitress – Olivia. She came to the table with a cheery smile – and slightly frightful eyes, glancing nervously at me. "All done?"

"All done!" Marcus beamed back at her. "And ready for the bill, please."

"Of course." Olivia nodded, pulling out one of those little card machine that you tap the food into and a receipt pops out, handing it over to us once it was printed. "Cash or card?"

"Cash." Marcus informed her, digging a twenty and a ten out of his pocket and holding it out to her. "And keep the change-" he leant forward, squinting, acting as though he needed to read her nametag in order to know her name. "Olivia." He said, sitting back down, and smiling even brighter than before.

Olivia's eyes widened as she looked at the notes – the change left over must've amounted to at least over five dollars, which apparently, for here, was a decent tip. "Thank you, sir!" she glanced at me and smiled nervously. "And madam. Have a nice day!"

"Will do." Marcus said, pushing himself up to his feet. "And, you too, Olivia." He winked, and she giggled, walking away.

Marcus looked after her for a moment, before turning back to me and raising an eyebrow. "Ready to go?"

I was still staring after the waitress, my eyes wide, my head a mess. I was scared, frustrated, confused... and I wondered what it was exactly Olivia Connors could do.

I mean... she looked so normal.

That raised all sorts of interesting questions about my own normalcy and whether it was believable, and I was falling down a rabbit hole of twisted thoughts, until Marcus snapped his fingers in front of my face, making me jump and turn to face him. "Go where?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere, until her shift ends."

My eyes widened even further. "What- her- until her shift ends?"

Marcus frowned, furrowing his brows. "Well... yeah. We can't exactly spring the whole thing on her when she's working. It'd cause all kinds of distress, for everyone involved. Not to mention also being kinda rude."

I shook my head, slowly. "You don't even know when her shift ends-"

"In an hour's time." He said curtly. "God, Sarah, don't you think I did my research?"

Research... by research he apparently meant hanging round outside IHOP for god knows how long, or how many days a week, to get Olivia's shift patterns down to memory. Which was all kinds of fucked up and creepy and wrong.

But given the fact there was what seemed like a bunch of religious fanatics out there who had my personal details, thought I was an abomination and wanted me dead, it probably wasn't the most fucked up or creepiest thing that was happening.

Marcus sighed, and clucked his tongue, raising an eyebrow at me once more.

"Fine." I said sharply, standing – and having to clap both of my hands to the table in front of me to keep me from tumbling to the ground, on legs that felt like they were gonna buckle and were far too shaky to be of any use. Nausea hit me hard, and I closed my eyes, leaning forward slightly.

"You... you ok?" Marcus asked, after a moment, sounding more curious than concerned.

"In general? No. Right now? Also no." I said, when I was finally sure I could open my mouth without last night's popcorn making a reappearance. I took a deep breath, and straightened up, moving my hands from the table and wrapping them around myself. I took a moment longer to adjust to being stood up, before nodding, and following after Marcus.