It was dark in the chamber, the air cold and thick. Black stones leaked vines onto the ceiling, the floor, the walls. A dripping could be heard. Blood or water? You couldn't tell – no matter how long or hard you listened. 

Jake picked his way over the moss, his lungs frozen in his chest. But that didn't stop him. At this point, he felt that nothing could. In front of him, Max still had possession of the knife. Jake thought about trying to take it from him, but his hands were shaking too hard. Whether it was from the cold or the fear, he didn't know. As the two of them headed down the steps, he tried his best not to trip. His numb legs really weren't helping.

"What is this place?" he breathed out into the dark. He even expected the dark to breathe back. But nothing – no one – answered. Max ploughed toward the coffin at the bottom of the steps. Unlike the rest of the chamber, it was small and humble. Like a wallflower at a party. For some reason, Jake felt like he'd seen it before, somewhere. He took a step closer and around him, the world sharpened. On the lid of the coffin, it was just plain wood. No writing, no dates. No name. From beside him, Max gasped.

"I can't believe it". Shouldn't I be the one saying that? Jake thought. He refused to acknowledge what sat in front of him. The truth. It was starting to get all too real. Every horror movie he'd seen, every Halloween party he'd attended was nothing compared to this.

"After all this time," Max breathed, moving forward and giving the lid of the coffin a heavy shove. Jake grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing?!" His grip tightened.

"What does it look like?" said Max, his murderous calm having vanished. He shook him off and began pushing the coffin lid off of its base. Something inside Jake broke. He couldn't let him open the coffin, no matter what happened. Before he could use his brain, he snagged the sleeve of Max's coat, yanked him backwards so hard that he hit the chamber wall. With a grunt, he righted himself. The knife shimmered.

"You"—

"I can't let you open that coffin. I just can't". Max lunged. They met halfway, slamming punches into each other's jaws and kicking each other's legs out from under them. The knife wavered in-between.

"I should've killed you when we first met. Like my parents told me. Would have saved myself the trouble!" Max yelled, smashing his fist into Jake's stomach. He doubled over but straightened up just in time to bat the knife away. Max took the opportunity to push him backwards, so he smacked into the coffin lid. A moment later, it crashed onto the floor. A breath hitched, and it was then that he saw her. The girl from his dream, the girl with Lilly's face. In the flesh. Her cheeks, pinched and pale, were shadowed by the blackness of her hair. Her fringe covered one of her eyes and the one that he could see was closed. In the coffin, she'd been presented on a black velvet cushion, dressed in an outfit to match. Her bare feet were covered in dirt. Jake let himself breathe a gasp he hadn't realised he'd been holding. She was there, right in front of him. She was beautiful. She was— A sharp pain tore through him, and he gasped as Max shoved him to the floor, the knife he'd just nicked him with raised high above his head. Jake pulled himself up onto his elbows and checked his side. It didn't look too bad.

"You ass!" he shouted, mainly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Max ignored him, stepping up to the coffin and leaning over its occupant. He brought the knife closer.

"Stop! What are you doing?!" Jake tried desperately to stop him but found that his legs were no longer on team 'standing up'. All he could do was watch as Max held the knife higher and higher and higher still until it appeared as if it was floating.

"Alexa Frostbite," he breathed. "The Abomination. Your rest will finally become eternal."

"Stop, please," he winced from the stone. But Max wasn't listening. Jake felt his world starting to unravel.

"Stop" he repeated. Again, Max didn't listen. He just stood, looming over the coffin like a ghost.

"Stop!" Jake said. His breath felt ragged and as he looked down, he realised the knife wound was worse than he'd first thought.

"Crap". Then Max brought the knife down.

"ALEXA!"

...

...

Crack.

...

...

Crack.

From inside the coffin, a veil of ice seemed to break. The ground shook, tearing apart the stone steps and shaking the vines overhead until they dropped. Jake was thrown forward, hitting his head on the base of the coffin. Dizzily, he looked up. His vision was a little hazy, but even he knew he didn't have enough imagination to fabricate this. Not whatever he was seeing. And what he was seeing, he couldn't quite understand. Alexa Frostbite was standing upright in her coffin, black hair swinging around her shoulders, her red eye open and blazing. She looked every inch a Goddess in the darkness. For a split second, she looked as if she had two heads, but Jake suspected that was the double vision he was experiencing. Alexa reached for Max's throat and held him aloft. She growled.

"Halver," she hissed. Her voice was filled with fire.

"You tried to kill me!" Max struggled in her grip, the knife he'd once prided clattering onto the stone beneath. Jake found that he felt no sympathy.

"You tried to kill me!" Alexa screamed again. Her grip on his throat tightened and his face started to turn an ugly shade of purple. His thrashing began to slow. Blearily, Jake peered up until he met Alexa's gaze. A link seemed to snap into place, and he felt drawn to her somehow. Like they were both tied to each other by an eternal piece of string. A tether.

"Alexa," he whispered. "Put him down". She looked at Max as his eyes began to close.

"Please". With a final grunt, Alexa threw him against the far wall. Jake tried not to feel too much satisfaction as he saw Max slump onto the broken stones. Unconscious. Then he glanced at her, at the dream girl, at Lilly. Were they sisters or something? Or had he dreamt her up too? Either way she must have something to do with his mum's kidnapping, she had to. Something in this godforsaken mess his life had turned into had to make sense. Shakily, Alexa stepped out of the coffin. As her legs hit the floor, she crumpled. Jake also tried to stand; his legs weren't in the mood either. They crawled towards each other. Her hand shakily reached out for his, then drew back. His eyes began to glaze.

"You were dead," he began.

"No," corrected Alexa. "I am dead. I have been for quite some time actually".

"This isn't possible". His whole body was rioting. He almost laughed. He was just realising that now.

"You are bleeding," Alexa observed. She was staring at him in a way that made him feel like he was being studied. Like he was the strange one. To her, he probably was.

"Uh, yeah," he muttered. He'd almost forgotten about getting stabbed.

"Let me help you," she said. Jake raised an eyebrow at the dead girl lying on the floor.

"You don't seem to be having much luck yourself". What am I saying? Why I am saying anything at all?

"You make a compelling point," she said, struggling once again to stand. Then her eye widened.

"You were with that Halver boy. Did you come here to kill me as well— No," she stopped herself. "No, you are different".

"Why is that?" Jake breathed heavily. The blood flow from his cut intensified.

"Because..." she trailed off. Her face lengthened, and he became lost in her eye.

"Because what?" he asked.

Yes Jake, groaned his voice of reason, find another excuse to talk to the dead girl with a temper. He was almost tempted to ask it where it had been and why it hadn't stopped him from helping to open a coffin and waking up a corpse. Alexa turned her head towards him, red eye shinning.

"Because you are my salvation," she said.

"Right..." Jake slurred and a moment later, he passed out.

Something red was hovering above him. At first he thought it was some strange type of bug, or perhaps a flying blood clot from his concussion. But then the red disappeared, and everything lashed into focus. Looking around, Jake saw that he was lying on a crumpled four-poster bed. Then he remembered: the knife, Max losing it...Alexa. It was her that he couldn't get out of his head. As he began to sit up, he winced and glanced at the ragged cloth that was badly wrapped around his torso. His shirt was still on at least, but it was rolled up to his chest. He quickly smoothed it down. The four-poster he found himself in was just as mouldy and moth-eaten as the rest of the house. The bed clothes were almost as black as the dust that covered them. From outside the room, he could see sunlight and because half the roof was missing, he had to shield his face to stop himself going blind.

"Ow," he mumbled and pulled himself up. His head was pounding as if his mind had become a DJ Booth. He slid into a standing position, his feet meeting the floorboards with a crack. Then he stopped. It was all real. Alexa was real. His mum was gone. This...whatever this was, wasn't going to end. He rubbed his eyes, bracing himself on a nearby chest of drawers. Real. Beneath the ruin of the cloth on top of the drawers, he saw a small book – a sketchbook – sitting amongst the ashes. It was a leather-bound thing, with that musty smell you could only find in an old house. Just another reminder that this was real. Slowly, Jake picked it up, as if he expected it to bite him.

In this house? I wouldn't be surprised, the voice chuckled from inside his head.

Shut up, Jake told it and turned over the cover. On the yellowed pages were beautiful sketches. Most depicted far off cities or flowers. These were the ones that burst with water colours and emotion. But the others, the ones that showed little village houses and the manor from the outside, were done in black charcoal. They looked...lonely.

"Ah, you are awake!" Jake's hands flew upwards and he tried his best to catch the book and set it back down on the chest of drawers. He suspected he looked more like someone playing an intense round of pass the hot potato. Alexa Frostbite was standing in the doorway – or rather what was left of it – her arms full of branches.

"I thought that maybe you had died of shock," she carried on, unfazed. Even though she breezed past him, he could tell she was slightly upset at finding him rooting through her drawings. He almost cursed. To her, those sketches had probably been like her diary.

Well done, the voice said glibly. He didn't bother to dignify it with an answer.

"I will have a fire lit in just a moment. Feel free to make yourself comfortable as you were already sifting through my private sketchbook," she said. Jake swallowed and found that his mouth was dry.

"Sorry," he told her. "Your drawings are nice".

"Your disregard for other people's property is 'nice' also" she snapped back, throwing the wood onto what could only be the hearth. Jake felt the tips of his ears turning red.

"Hey, I woke you up. I saved your life". He stopped, felt the wound on his side. Lowered his head and whispered,

"Thank you for...you know, for not killing me back there. And for patching me up". He winced. "Well, mostly".

"Killing you?" Alexa sputtered. "Why in Halves' name would I want to do that? You are human. Insignificant."

"Yeah, well you're out of a freaking Anne Rice novel, what does that make you?"

"Anne Rice? I do not understand. You are speaking English – badly I might add – but I can not comprehend a word you are saying," she said, and he swore he could hear her add a light 'humph' on the end. Perfect. She was the last person he needed right now. He sighed.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot," he began.

"Ah, an apology. So, they do have manners where you come from. I was beginning to wonder". Jake snorted.

"And nearly choking someone to death, that's your version of 'manners'? I'm freaking out okay? I'm entitled to be a little ticked off," he yelled, then winced. Blood started to seep through his shirt.

"There you go again with your primitive language. Honestly. And those clothes! Dearie me, I was only asleep for a decade or thereabouts and look what has happened!" She laughed and sat primly on top of the bed. Jake bit his lip. Should he tell her?

"Alexa," he started. She held up her hand.

"Miss Frostbite," she interrupted.

"Alexa" he said again. He smirked at the way she glared and the way her cheeks turned silver instead of red. That was definitely new.

"Out with it then, human," she ordered. He turned around, so he couldn't see the look in her eye. He didn't want to see it, not after the pain he'd seen, the anger he'd seen. All of that pain.

"You know you said it's only been a decade?"

"Yes. I am neither deaf nor stupid. Go on," said Alexa.

"It's been a bit longer than that," he replied. She scoffed, but as he turned to face her, her bottom lip quivered.

"You tell lies," she snapped, if a little hopefully. "It has only been ten years. Are you impertinent as well as nosy?" He rolled his eyes, suddenly happy that he had two of them.

"Look at me, Alexa. Look at how I'm dressed". He sighed, pointed to the window. "Look out there".

"I do not take orders from a human," she told him, but seconds later she was up and rushing to the glass. And he could swear he heard the sound of her heartstrings snapping. Every single one.

"No," she whispered. As she pressed her face to the window, it became painfully obvious that she didn't breathe as no condensation formed on the glass. Jake doubled over, trying to stop bile rising in his throat.

"No, it cannot be," she whispered again. Her red eye widened. Glad not to be only person who'd had their reality shattered, Jake slumped back onto the four-poster to re-examine his knife wound. Knife wound. Jake lost his smile. His eyes roamed toward Alexa, who was still fixated on the world outside her window.

"Are you okay over there?" he asked. He didn't care, obviously, but he had to say something. Waking up to find yourself in a different time, in a place where you're on your own... He couldn't imagine what was racing through her mind.

"Yes. Yes, of course". Alexa coughed. Her voice cracked at the last word.

"Uh-huh". Jake nodded and carefully lifted up the bandage. Alexa stared at him, her eye searching and scanning him.

"If the year is not 1718, then what – prey tell – is it?" she asked.

"2008," he responded, never looking up from the dried blood on his chest. "Welcome to the future".

"Oh, Halve help me," Alexa whispered, sagging against the window. "Oh mercy. Mercy please. Human, tell me you are lying. Tell me these are lies!" The sharpness in her voice intensified and Jake found himself looking at the girl he'd seen on the bridge. The one full of pain, full of anguish. The one who'd been betrayed. If she was real, then what he'd seen was real too. Her life – or whatever it was – had fallen apart. Right in front of him.

"I'm so sorry," he said and this time, he really meant it. Alexa met his gaze head on.

"So am I," she said, so quietly that he couldn't be sure whether she'd spoken at all.

They sat in silence, neither willing to be the one who spoke first. Jake kept lifting his shirt to check his bandage and wondered why Alexa's cheeks turned silver as he did so.

"Do you have to keep doing that?" she asked him. She was standing with her back to the window, as if trying to deny the future. He didn't blame her. If he'd woken up that far into the future, he probably would've freaked out too.

"Well, I kinda got stabbed by my best mate. Huh, I guess I need to find some better friends," he muttered and poked the angry red line across his skin. He grinned as he heard Alexa squeak and turn away.

"I thought you liked blood. You know, being a Vampire and all that. I'm surprised you didn't bite me," he commented. If Alexa could've gone any paler, she would've. She swerved, hair flying through the air like a javelin.

"What did you just refer to me as? A Vampyre? Do I look like a Vampyre to you?"

"Well," he began.

"No. I am not a Vampyre. And the correct term is Vaskel. But even Vaskels do not turn into bats and shapeshift. That is purely human superstition". She let out a huff, absently wiping the ashes off the nearby furniture.

"A Vaskel?" Jake asked, surprised.

"Yes. That is what most Unnaturals and Supernaturals call them. Some humans do as well. They look like you humans, but they are demonic. Beings of ember and flame. Ruthless," she finished. Her voice had quietened to a dim hiss and that pain had returned to her face again.

"Okay. So, what are you then? If you're not a Vampire or a Vaskel or whatever," he said.

"I am simply everything" she told him. He blinked. He blinked again. She made a noise that sounded like she wanted to strangle him.

"I am a Halfblood," she said. Jake sat back and tried to give her one of his lazy smiles. It was the only thing he could do to stop himself from falling.

"That was going to be my next guess," he told her. She folded her arms and huffed again. It wasn't long before the silence returned. Eventually she shattered it.

"You woke me up". Alexa was staring at him from across the room. She'd lowered her arms and there was an almost breathless air around her. Not that she breathed.

"I guess I did," Jake said. He hadn't realised how true it was what with all the getting stabbed and the passing out. But now that he thought about it, now that she'd said it, he had woken her up. He'd screamed her name.

"You woke me up," she repeated.

"Yep," he nodded, starting to feel a little concerned. He tried to look away; her stare was more piercing than his French teacher's.

"Thank you..."

"Jake. Jake Green".

"Well, thank you Mr. Green," said the dead girl in front of him.

"You're welcome".

"Besides", he carried on. "I would've felt bad letting someone like you die". Alexa walked up to him, her eye narrowing until it became a sharpened slit.

"You poor soul. I told I was dead, not that I was pathetic". Jake fell silent, partly in awe. He almost felt sorry for the suitors she might've had back in the 1700's or whatever era she reigned from.

"So, although it was wonderful to meet you and feel insulted by you, I am afraid that I need to be off now. As do you," she said and strode over to the doorway.

"Alexa, wait!" he called after her. She paused, mid-step.

"I know this sounds crazy, but I need your help. This...someone told me to come here, to find you. You see, my mum's been taken". That made her turn around.

"Your mother? By whom?" she inquired. Oddly, she seemed as if she cared.

"That's just it. I don't know," he continued. "But they left this note. It said..." he struggled for the words. His head spun and he grimaced. Clutched at his skull. Why couldn't he remember?

"I...I can't tell you what it is. I'll have to show you"—

"What makes you think I am going to help you? I am not some undead dog you can summon and take advantage of!" she exclaimed.

"I never said you were!" he shouted back.

"I just...I need you to help me find her. I need someone. I saw you, dreamt about you. You were on a bridge. You were in so much pain," he stopped. She was staring at him, her red eye bulging so wide that he was certain it was about to pop out of her socket. As he looked closer, he saw that her whole body was shaking.

"That is my pain, Jake. Mine," she hissed. "I saw you too. In that dreamless sleep, I finally dreamt. And I saw you. You...oh no. You are his pawn".

"Who's pawn?"

"My brother's. James's pawn". She gasped, leaning heavily on the doorframe. It barely creaked beneath her weight.

"Do you think James took my mother?" he asked, very quietly.

"I cannot be sure. You will have to show me this note of yours," she concluded and started to pace.

"I knew it. I just knew he was going to start playing this game again! Dragging more lives through the mud just as he dragged mine!"

"Alexa..." Jake stood up and stretched his arm out to catch her. She pulled away.

"If you guys lived that long ago, don't you think someone would've...I don't know staked him or something?" She let out a bitter bark of laughter.

"Staked? You humans are all the same. Stakes cannot hurt us anymore than knives or muskets can. And no, I can feel that he is still here. I know he is, and I am going to kill him," she whispered. White veins pulsed on her wrists and Jake drew back. Definitely not as normal as he was expecting.

"Alexa, you can't just kill people. There're rules about that now, things have changed," he tried, but she was having none of it.

"I do not abide by human laws. Besides, your people slaughter each other in meaningless wars all the time. Why should one death be any different?"

"Because he's your brother," he said. She scoffed, moving her hand towards her fringe and pulling it back. Jake let out a gasp.

"Would a brother do this?" The skin beneath her hair was blackened and scarred, with a huge gaping hole where her other eye should've been. Her eyeless socket stared emptily into nothing.

"Tell me, Jake Green," she demanded, her voice rattling the more she spoke. "Would a brother do this?" Jake found that he couldn't speak, couldn't tear his own eyes away. He just stood there, frozen, until Alexa let her fringe drop. The pain instantly evaporated.

"There. You have seen it. Now go. Run. Screaming, preferably," she said. Bitterness drowned her every word.

"Why would I run? Knife wound remember? Also," he added. "It doesn't matter about what you look like. Most people never realise that until it's too late". Alexa stared at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. She squinted and it was a long time before she spoke.

"What kind of a human are you?" she asked. Jake thought for a moment.

"Is that your version of saying you like me?" he smirked. She turned silver and looked away. If they were going to go out in public, he knew they'd have to do something about that.

"See here, Jake. I am certain that your mother's absence is my brother's doing," she began again. "If you want me to help you, then you will have to help me too. It seems our paths are intertwined. Unfortunately".

"Lucky me," he muttered. He found himself smiling when she gave him another one of her glares. She was so easy to fluster it was almost hypnotic. She was hypnotic. His face darkened. Her brother had done this, or so she claimed. What if it turned out her hocus pocus wasn't real? He couldn't afford to waste time when his mother could be... He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all too much. Way, way too much.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," he interrupted. Alexa looked momentarily shocked.

"What? You spend so long craving my help that finally when I do offer it you no longer want it? Are all you humans this paradoxical?" He ignored her. Halfblood or not, he couldn't afford to trust her. He just wanted his mother back. His life back. All he'd ever wanted was a life. He even wanted to do his mocks. He wanted to go out with his mates – ones that wouldn't try to kill him. He wanted normality.

Normality is a luxury we can no longer afford, said the voice. Its tone was softer, but he could sense how happy it must be feeling underneath.

Easy for you to say, he shot back. He was so engrossed that he didn't notice Alexa sitting down next to him on the bed.

"Jake," she started. She sat away from him, didn't touch him. She barely even looked at him. Her skin, tallow as the smouldered beams of the roof, sagged, while her chest was frozen stiff. It was as if a figure from a long-forgotten painting had crawled out of the oils. Unreal. Too real.

"If everything you have told me is true, then my parents died three-hundred years ago," she said. "I know I have been asleep for a long time, but it feels like it was yesterday to me. And I know the pain you are feeling, I do. But if you do not want to help me kill my brother, then what use are you?" Jake sighed. He knew the pain she felt, he could see it every time he looked at her and, for some reason, he hated her for it. He hated the way she somehow made him feel guilty.

"I am not a killer. I'm human. So go. Go find him and take your revenge and see how you feel. Then come back so I can tell you I was right," he said sharply. Alexa sighed.

"Please, human". Her voice faded to a hiss. "He took everything from me that night. So do not sit there and tell me that you would not do the same. He took my parents. He stole what little life I had. Revenge is not what I live for, but it is the only thing left for me now". She moved forward to stand, but he turned his head a fraction. Glanced at her from out of the very corner of his eye.

"Alexa".

"Yes?" She waited.

"If I promise to go with you, I won't help you kill your brother. But I will help you find him. If you can convince me that he has my mum. Then I'll go". She thought for a moment, her fingers scrunching the fabric of her dress. He bet she'd never had to work a day in her life back then. She'd never had to do mocks or cope with English Lit. She'd never know what it was like to lose the normal life he'd lost. But she could help him get it back. That's what kept him from leaving, what kept him from running to call the police.

"Alright," she said at last. "Do we have an accord?" She stood and watched him intently.

"It's a deal," he said.

They never bothered to shake hands.