Eighteen troubled teenagers wake up one morning to an even more troubling discovery. They are all vampires...
Given the chance to correct their Scrooge like behaviors, they must accept the guidance of a keeper. Assigned to each of the eighteen, Dek...
The stale dust muddled air mingles with the growing aroma of spices wafting through the theatre room vents. As the concoction hits my nose, my senses are assaulted by it's rich potency. I haven't been graced by the presence of such a delicacy in months. Since the passing of my mom, when everything went to shambles.
The allegations to her death were immediately shackled to me. Pushed over the banister of the grand stair case. The anger simmers in my veins threatening to bubble over.
I'm not an angry person.
I'm not an emotional person.
I'm not a person.
I'm not.
I'M.
NOT.
An audible crack eminates throughout the room. I feel a rush of lukewarm liquid seep into my knee high socks. Before I've registered what just happen, a chilly pair of hands guide my from my chair.
Nerve endings in my forearms tingle all the way to my elbows. I tune into the sensation as I'm guided though the halls in a blur. Nobs turn and handles click bringing us to our final destination.
Looking up, my eyes reach Jett's. His unflinching gaze pressures me to open up to him. Instead I take count of the lines and angles that create the ensemble that is his face.
Jett
The vacancy in her eyes is more than I can possibly bare at the moment. While Odin, Quinn, and I had a hushed conversation about "Flynn," she spaced out. The second the spices began to drift throughout the house she was out like a light. Then, as if intentional, she flaired to life with unmanageable anger. Snapping her pen beneath her slender fingers.
How do I bring back the depth to those empty eyes?
A panic slithers it's way up my throat. Begging me to hold still so that I can be caught in it's vise. Sparing a glance a my forearms all I find there are my dragons.
Bravery.
Jett, it's time for you to put on a brave face.
For her.
For Alma.
Within seconds a bottle of herb scented soap is in my possession. Giving Alma her portion of soap, I wait for her to begin washing her hands. Nothing happens. Her limp hands drip a mixture of black ink and soap onto the floor.
Come on Jett, she needs your help. Man the fates up and do it. It's safe to say, I think Dekka set a new trend.
Each of my hands gently grasp her forearms, guiding her to the sink. I fiddle with the water temperature as she begins to slip from her stupor.
Maybe all it takes is going through the motions? Muscle memory has to be good for something, right?
Changing positions, I stand elbow to elbow with her at the sink. My fingers gently slide around her hands. Guiding her through the motions. The warm water prys the ink from the surface of her skin. Lathering more soap on the palms of her hands, I catch her staring at me.
Alma
My feelings settle down, balancing themselves out, before receding under my skin where they belong.
Reality takes shape around me once more. I hear the gurgle of warm water flow from a sink. I feel warm water flow over the folds of my hands like a gentle caress. I feel his elbow next to mine as he washes his hands with me. He's here, helping me. For that alone I smile at him.
"Uh... Thank you." The words slip from my lips sounding meek.
"For a moment there I thought you went all artist on me." He swallows a very un needed swallow as he turns and smiles at me. "I wasn't looking forward to some competition."
An attempt at my type of humor? Huh, maybe I'm not as insufferable as Dekka thinks I am.
Hunting for something to draw with, my eyes scope out a cup filled with makeup brushes and felt tip eyeliner pens. Plucking a black pen from its resting place I turn to face Jett.
"Oh, the competition is still present." I can't help but notice the smile filling my voice.
Before I know it, I'm on my toes drawing Chinese characters along his jaw. Steeling the eyeliner from me he positions it in his hands before leaning down to my height.
Steady fingers lift my jaw skyward as he lowers the pen to my eyelids.
"Close." He whispers. The action sends his chilly breath across my face. Causing a chain reaction of shivers down my spine.
Trusting Jett with my eyesight, it takes will power not to squirm under the movements of the pen. Just as I think my fidgety self will mess up his handiwork, the eyeliner drops back into the cup with a resounding click.
The eyes in the mirror are that of a stranger. Expertly drawn wings paint my eyelids given them doe eyes look topped of with a fringe of doll like lashes. Stepping closer to him I meet his eyes.
"Exceptional job, yet unfortunately you still have competition."
Laughter erupts from his parted lips, cut off by the clashing of metal against metal. Seconds after the avalanche, the cursing starts...
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