The breeze felt nice against my simpering skin. Yet, the sudden feeling of being watched crept up short but statuesque legs; generously patting my buttocks.

Keeping with the theme of where I came from, I always planted an acceptable length of sharpness within this faded jean jacket – I know it's not the mid-eighties, but, I utterly could care less of what passes as fashion (if it's comfortable, and a suitable – non-blinding color) And, as the most important, if I happen to like it, then – damn-it, I like it.

That speeds me back to a reminisce of an incident that had happened on one of the first excursions I joined a 'job' with Nikki. It's an occasion that stands alone as one the only times I've ever been insulted by the undead. It was a bit discouraging.

**

"This is honestly the worse idea we've managed come up with at the spur of the moment..." I pleaded of sincere precaution "... we should definitely go back... there's too many places our eyes can't watch at all times!"

Nikki feistily shushed me.

It was absolutely rude; being shushed like a scolded child – as Nikki, and Grady turned the newly up rooted headstone of Milly Todd (I had been an attendee earlier that day).

We were all asked to attend, but I was the only to graciously show-up. Nik was sleeping off a night of shacking any guy she fancied, along with Grady, who I'm sure wasn't too far off on his own tag and release. Grady was her stepbrother and one of the town's main squeezes. Seriously, this guy could disperse gas from his anus and still anybody with working genitals would swoon; till legs were in dangling pendulum-like in the air.

Of course, she could have been on one her numerous rants of 'killings,' or 'voyages,' and it could have blown straight off my head. Once you hear a grand 'one' story – with some minor changes to each happening – you've practically heard an anthology worth of them. At some point, ya just nod your head in agreement, and carry on.

I had forgotten when Milly had finally been put six-foot down a cut-out of earth, but, sure enough as I had the slightest apprehension that I had been mistaken about her, the freshly plowed ground began writhing, and wiggling.

**

I remember hoping that it was a tremendously grotesque worm.

**

Slender fingers forced out of the dark soil; followed rapidly by a forearm, a glimmering diamond bracelet was impossible to ignore as it caught sight of the moon; even in death, she couldn't help but try being even more glamorous than those around her. Wasn't enough the town square had been renamed after her.

Her sheepish shoulder came next, then, the all-out-ghost-like head plooped out. Showcasing a tremendously gaudy amount of contoured make-up; powdered now with grits of mother earth. Full torso now was up sided.

I wanna say that she was buried in her prom gown as she was gorily attacked, before she could properly wear it out. It was bit of a slutty number for burial – at least for me. I suppose if your tata's cost more than a semi-used car then you should show 'em off, even as the deceased.

Finally, standing to her full erect self (she was a bit of an amazon; of course, everyone had a bit of that look posing next to me) her hand accurately positioned to her side. Her slander came almost immediately – and aimed directly at me.

"What the hell is that...the eighties have declared a no to your effort."

I grimaced in response; I wasn't the only standing here... why is it me that she must blow chunks of criticisms toward.

"Hey..." I cliché-ly retorted.

That's all I had at that precise moment. Besides. I hadn't had much time to gather any further grievances as she launched forward as a fangier resemblance of a flying squirrel. Plotting right on top of me, she hissed like a mangy-rapid-horny cat would.

Flitting a serpent-like tongue against my collar bone. Humming an unnecessary tone as she wriggled against me. I was completely unimpressed – 'Ahh... hell... no! I sang back in protest; piercing an always reliant fingernail deep into the imperial purple shadowed right eye. She broke our embrace, whishing off me. I flipped onto my stomach to catch her direction, and saw that Nikki and Grady had their share of un-deadly counters. Nothing surer than of when one appears, multiple shall rise; usually happens around this time of moon shade anyways (not entirely full, but enough to wash its essence across everything.)

Nikki was as usual, bad ass when faced with this type of adversary. Flipping; kicking; punching – a modern day, Kung-Fu fighter.

Grady held his own as well as expected. I mean, he – himself – is a bit of a supernatural being; I'm just going by what I was told and, unfortunately had seen.

Walking in on someone floating while yet somehow still undisturbed with pleasuring themselves is inexplicably awkward on all counts.

Being 'the one's' half-sibling must've been incredibly challenging – at least to me it would've been. Nikki has her quirks; an exceptional power, but not being the initial authority had to prove a disaster for their parents.

I digress.

I lifted myself off the mildewed grass; brushing off what I could of the debris; following Milly into the dark still cursing the making of dirt – yep, I'm that type of un-armed girl.

Yes, I heard the frantic protesting yells from Nikki; and the simultaneously spewing echoes of Grady swearing every curse known to 'kick my arse...' if I kept on my immediate path.

What could I say – I was tired of never being the 'arse-kicker.'

Wafting at an alarming speed; she was next to impossible to catch. There was this one shiny stone sticking up uncharacteristically on the frothing ground. I whipped that joker up; hurling it with all I had towards the back of her awfully glittery gown – down she blew.

Bopping once or twice (I think) on the well-kept grass; shoe spiraling up towards the mossy trees. I gurgled a promptly "thank you..." under my breath, stopping to catch what little air I had left. Tilting my head back in relief as I stood fully. I felt a sense of self-acknowledgment pacing the steps back towards the dynamic duo (kind of on the same lines as when you are on a deafening health cleanse, and you have some-how managed to not indulge in the entirety of a dazzling triple chocolate cake). I suppose I was experiencing a bit of gratification within myself.

The radiance plastered upon my smiling face faded instantly, with the usually collected demeaner of Nik's piercing disapproval.

At this point, I can look back, and admit I had pings of guilt but, after all the death crusades – plus, not to mention Todd's random insult – I think I more than earned that pin stripe. "She's all yours..." I spoke, while properly curtseying.

**

Whipping back to the wind now bowing its' own curtsey through my hair; I had the sudden sinking rationalization that that night may have been the beginnings of our unraveling bond. Sure, it may have been a tad 'rude' with a teaspoon of smugness, but, for once – I wanted to be the one to save the day; to save my own self. I've never accepted the fact of leaning towards another to fight my battles – even when the 'battles' are of supernatural, or even worse of times of the demonic regions.

I was forcefully taught well by trial-and-error knowledge, that I am my own heroin, as well as, never relying on someone else for providing your own self-preservation. A damsel in distress was never going to be a part of my biography.

As I continually interrogated my own forgotten memories, I unexpectedly suspected that Nik wasn't a fan of anyone not playing the 'victim' card. From all the novelist stories scrabbled into my brain, Nik had always – always – been the fighter; the warrior; the 'one.' I honestly believe she hated the fact that I never actually needed her to swoop in and save me; she just happened to take it upon herself to jump into whatever situation presented itself and do it anyways; and I – never one for confrontation – kept it all ticking away under my tongue.

I may be overly working myself up. Isn't it funny how random, and unpredicted memories bolt into your train of thought?