the beautiful grave (book II)

the return

WARNING: This chapter contains slight sexual content and strong language.
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frost

He sat on one of the courtyard arches, watching the willow tree ever so intently standing there, all proud and tall as the wind barely touched it.

     His hair ruffled in the breeze as his cigarette blew out. He hadn't smoked for more than ten years, but he'd taken it back up again when he discovered that stupid patch of soil keeping the tree alive hadn't moved. For nine days, nothing had changed.

     Well, except his mood. At first, he'd been excited to think a body could rise out the earth and not turn into a vampire... but then hope faded. It had been over a week and nobody had climbed out.

     Around him, students hurried to their next class, peeking at him as they passed. Their looks were fleeting, but their mouths kept going.

     "... single now, thank God."

     "She hadn't deserved him in the first place."

     Letting his growl come free, he turned to the girls and bared his teeth, causing them all to shrink back and scamper away. For awhile now, it seemed girls couldn't get enough of badmouthing his Lily. They blamed her for so much she hadn't done.

     They didn't know of the sacrifice she'd made for each and every one of them. They didn't have the slight idea that she died in the hope they remained safe.

     She was the reason he sat there on the arches, watching, waiting, wishing.

     For her to come back to this life, to come back from the dead.

     It sounded terribly unrealistic, right? It's not actually, when you live in a world made up of the supernatural, then it doesn't seem impossible. In fact, it seemed like the most ordinary thing out of them all.

     Frost grunted as he noticed Violet Bridges and Marisol Casa heading his way. There were engrossed in something a human boy was telling them, but Violet tuned out once she caught his eye. Suddenly, what they'd been laughing at didn't seem all that funny anymore. He frowned as they approached, the human walking along with them still. His eyes betrayed his confident swagger.

     "Hi, Frost." He greeted him, pulling at the straps of his backpack.

     "Fuck off."

     "Okay." The boy shot off, not looking back as he rounded the corner. He was probably having a panic attack or something. Humans were so fearful of his kind; he didn't understand it most of the time. They made vampires out to be bloodthirsty demons when, in truth, they could go years without blood if they wanted to.

     Violet glared at him as Marisol shuffled on her feet, she'd been strangely nervous around him recently. Maybe it was because he was tempted to snap her neck.

     Stupid bitch, he thought, eyeing her closely. He noticed the pink rim around her eyes, a clear affect from crying. He wasn't the only one unable to sleep at night, it seemed.

     "Trevor was only trying to make polite conversation with you, Frost." Violet's nasal sour voice broke through his reverie.

     "I don't care." He put out his cigarette and sat more comfortably on his stone seat.

     He thought back to Trevor. The young boy had spark in him, yet he'd only used it in his fight against Lady and her revenants. After that, he'd hidden in the shadows.