Chapter Three
Marie
The halls were already empty as she made her way to sixth hour art. She still couldn’t believe what was happening. Her “dad” was still creating half-breeds like herself, and the queen of the Dark World wanted to see her. There was so much to process, and more to come.
“Umm? Young lady, do you want to explain why you’re late for class?” Her teacher asked as she walked through the doorway; the smell of paint hitting her nostrils.
“I’m sorry, I got side-tracked,” she said; somewhat telling the truth. “Five o’clock detention,” he said. “What?!” She screamed out, louder than she had intended. The other students remained unfazed-as if nothing was happening.
The teacher stepped closer, his face just inches from hers. She concentrated as much power-from her mind, body, and soul-and channeled it from her eyes, to her teacher’s.
“I do not have detention. I was the first student here. You have just forgotten this confrontation. When I sit down, you will no longer be hypnotized,” she said in a steady, calm voice filled with power and authority.
One last look at him, and she took a seat in the back. “Okay class, today we will be taking notes on important terms and people in the history of art,” her teacher began. With a sigh, Marie pulled out her IPod from her pocket and cranked up the volume. Just one more class and school would be over.
The last class of the day was Spanish, which went by faster than she had expected. Afterwards, she looked for Daniel, and when she couldn’t find him, she decided to go see Oliver.
He lived just five blocks behind her street, in a Victorian house just like the rest of the town. The town was somewhat abandoned. Most of the houses were empty, and had been for many years, so were a lot of the other buildings, but Marie didn’t mind the eerie silence, it was calming at times.
She jumped up the porch effortlessly and rang the doorbell. The door opened on the third ring. “Hey Ash,” Mrs. Cherrywood said, greeting her by the name Oliver always used.
“Hey, is Oliver here?” She asked, already knowing the answer. “He’s upstairs,” she said, brushing away her tears. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were wrinkled, and her eyes were red from crying.
Swiftly, she climbed up the stairs; Oliver’s door was the second one on the left. “Hey,” she said to her best friend that was being consumed by the covers.
“Ash,” he said, a smile over-taking his grave features.
