CHAPTER 4 || Execution

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As I was walking through the crowded hallways on my way to the cafeteria (I had actually remembered its location this time, unlike the incident with the gymnasium), I began to notice things I hadn't paid attention to before. Abnormal, unusual, seemingly impossible things – for example, the fashionista surrounded by her posse of friends as they all carefully did their makeup were using their powers to make the drawing stick levitate in order to apply eyeliner. It was fascinating to see them apply makeup so flawlessly, their cosmetics tools floating in the air around them.

I made my way through the busy corridors feeling like I was in a strange action movie. On my trip to the cafeteria, I had watched two guys baring their elongated teeth at each other as they battled for a beautiful girl – the maiden had seemed lost like she didn't know what was happening or what to do. I had watched a group of geeks giving one another a series of pointed stares and meaningful hand gestures – I then realized that they were communicating telepathically.

I stepped through the doors of the cafeteria, my gaze skimming over the impressive number of students seated at their tables and happily conversing with one another. I spotted Amelie waiting in line and approached her, feeling out of place in this sophisticated canteen – it seemed more like a dining hall than an ordinary school's cafeteria.

"Hi, Elora," said Amelie, her forest green eyes brightening when she saw me. She turned to the lunch lady currently serving food to other students in the waiting line. "They're serving lasagna today," she told me enthusiastically. "The kitchen staff here are amazing and the food is always great, but the lasagna tastes magical."

When it was our turn to order, Amelie and I both took the lasagna meal (it came with a side of salad). I also paid for an extra fruit punch, based on Amelie's preferences – she said that the school's fruit punch was her favourite. With trays in our hands, we made our way over to the table located in the far corner of the canteen, where Kace and Blake were already seated.

The necromancer was buried under the shadow of his hood, randomly swiping across the screen of his iPod – judging by the bulky headphones taking up all the space inside his hood, as well as the clashing of drums audible from said headphones, I presumed that he was listening to music. Meanwhile, Blake was clearly busy multitasking – he was chewing on his bacon sandwich, tapping away on his smartphone and sipping from his can of Coca-Cola, all at once. I was impressed by his ability to perform so many actions simultaneously.

On the other hand, Amelie was eating her lunch absentmindedly while staring off into the distance, her eyes glazed over – it seemed that she was daydreaming.

"Where's Luke?" I asked to break the silence. I recalled the strange way in which he'd acted after I'd become conscious in the infirmary.

Blake raised his eyes from the screen of his cellphone to answer my question. "He's... you know..."

I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to elaborate. "No, I don't know..."

"He's doing, uh, vampy stuff." He scratched his head awkwardly and averted his eyes from mine.

Vampy stuff. "Oh."

I took a bite of my lunch and had to restrain myself from moaning out loud. The lasagna did, in fact, taste magical. It took all of my willpower to prevent myself from completely devouring the meal like a pig in front of my newly acquired friends.

My dad used to cook for me, back when he only had to deal with a single job. Ever since he'd started working more, he became constantly busy, which is why I'd decided to learn how to cook for myself. He'd made lasagna only a few times, and it was alright – definitely not restaurant-worthy, but it was decent. The lasagna I was currently eating was bringing back good memories.

I grinned to myself as I remembered the awesome father-daughter moments we used to have. To me, my dad was more of a combination of a mother and a father. Being a single dad, he'd had to take on both responsibilities – yet another reason why I respected him to no end.

Suddenly, Blake's head snapped up, causing us to frown at him in confusion. "What's up?" Said Amelie, awakening from her strange dreamlike trance.

He scanned the cafeteria with his eyes, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. "Trixie, she's here. I can smell her."

Excitement had begun to creep into Amelie's eyes. "Beatrix? Where is she?"

"The hallways," replied Blake. I was totally weirded out when I realized that he was sniffing the air. "She's nearing the cafeteria."

"Who's Beatrix?" I asked, feeling clueless.

Amelie glanced at me and smiled. "She's an old friend of ours. It's been ages since we've last seen her!"

The doors to the cafeteria swung open, and in strutted a tall girl with beautiful burgundy hair held up in a high ponytail which swung from side to side with every step. Her cat-eye makeup was done impeccably, her full lips painted in a dark shade of lipstick matching her hair colour.

"Blake!" She yelled excitedly before breaking into a run and throwing herself into his arms.

"Trixie!" Blake yelled in return, not hesitating to tighten the hug. Then, all of a sudden, he stepped back and narrowed his gaze at her. "We thought you'd disappeared off the face of the Earth!" He exclaimed. "You dumbfuck, why didn't you reply to our calls and messages?"

Beatrix rolled her rich chocolate brown eyes. "It's only been two months, Blake. Besides, you know that Mason doesn't approve of cellphones. He hates all things related to modern technology."

"That Alpha of yours is getting pretty damn annoying," muttered Blake.

The dark-haired girl grinned when she saw Amelie. "Hi, Lee!"

"Hi, Beatrix," replied the fairy in a small voice.

Beatrix glanced at me, finally seeming to notice my presence. "I don't remember seeing you the last time I was here," she mused, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Are you new?"

I nodded. "I arrived today."

"She got knocked out in volleyball," Kace said randomly, his voice flat and bored. "Your first day sucks, Elora."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suddenly dubious about this statement. "Hey, how do you know that?" He only shrugged, so I suspected that he'd acquired the information from either his real friends or his phantasmic buddies.

"Knocked out? In volleyball?" Beatrix laughed, but not in a mocking or satirical way. "I swear the kids in this school make everything so violent."

"I know right?" I said, exasperated but grateful that there was someone who could relate to me. "They practically tried to kill each other!"

"Don't worry," said the girl with the wine-coloured hair. "I once got a shuttlecock in my eye when we were playing badminton in PE. I feel your pain.

"Ouch," I cringed as I reconstructed the scenario in my mind. "That sounds painful."

Beatrix jumped into a conversation with her two apparently close friends. She didn't talk much to Kace, but she definitely didn't refrain from making sarcastic remarks on his silent, faraway behaviour that matched the 'emo kid' stereotype.

As she spoke fervently, the rhinestones on her manicured nails glinting as she illustrated her words with wild hand gestures, I took the time to carefully analyze her – personality and appearance-wise. This was something I enjoyed doing with every new stranger I met. In a way, 'figuring' someone out gave me a sense of security and stability.

Beatrix had very sharp and angular features, accentuated by a metallic piercing in her dramatically arched eyebrow. She wore heavy eyeliner that encircled her deep mahogany-coloured eyes in such a way that it reminded me of a raccoon, and her lashes were naturally long and cast remarkable shadows over her tanned cheeks. Her long legs were exposed in a pair of tight, dark red skinny jeans with rips and tears of considerable sizes, and her admirable cleavage was partly covered up by a black tank top with an interesting graphic design – a skeletal hand with the middle finger raised. Her feet were clad in tall black platform boots with laces, her neck enclosed in a spiky Gothic choker. Her worn-out leather jacket hung on the backrest of the chair she occupied, so she sat with her caramel-skinned arms revealed and exposing the large array of bracelets circling her wrists which held the names of numerous different death metal bands.

As for personality, I could tell that Beatrix was born a leader. She walked with confidence and assertiveness in her stride and looked like she could silence anybody with a single glare. When she spoke, her voice was strong and not riddled with stutters. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, a trait I found respectable in a person.

Of course, these were all predictions based on what I could see. They were all superficial, and I knew for a fact that there's a lot more to a person than what they show on the exterior.

Another thing I liked to do was compare the different appearances and personalities with other people whom I'd already met. In comparison to Beatrix, Amelie was more soft-spoken and quiet. She talked very little and liked making her sentences vague and somewhat similar to riddles. Her style of clothing contrasted greatly against Beatrix's edgy attire; while the fairy dressed in pastel dresses and cute flats, Beatrix was clad in dark shades, killer heels, and countless accessories.

Blake, on the other hand, resembled more the typical teenage guy. He sported an easygoing smile – vastly different from Beatrix's devious grin – and liked talking, similarly to Beatrix, but quite the opposite of Amelie and Kace.

Speaking of Kace, the silent, reserved boy had certain similarities with the red-haired girl. For one, their facial features both seemed of foreign heritage – I was terrible at discerning different origins, so I could never be certain. Judging by Kace's surname, Moretti, I guessed he was Italian. I already knew that Blake had Korean roots and that Amelie was French. Beatrix, though, seemed to have Hispanic features. It was hard to tell, though – like I said, I was never good with different nationalities and origins.

Second, they both had similar music tastes. Kace and Beatrix had an obsession with metal music, although the latter leaned more towards Gothic rock and death metal.

As for Luke... well, I hadn't quite 'figured' him out yet. All I knew was that he was British, he was a vampire and he was impossibly good-looking.

I was pulled back to reality when Beatrix turned to face me and said, "So, new girl – what do I call you?"

I plastered on my best meeting-new-people smile – since I was socially awkward, I usually had to take time forging the perfect smile that made me appear friendly and not weird or borderline creepy.

"My name's Elora Hawksworth," I told her.

Instead of shaking my hand, she offered her fist for me to bump. "Nice to meet you, Elora. I'm Beatrix Stavros, you can call me Trix."

I later found the answer to my question about this girl's heritage: her father was Greek, and her mother was Spanish. The four of us – Beatrix, Amelie, Blake and I – talked for a while about small, meaningless things, with the occasional monotonous comment from Kace. During this time, I couldn't help but wonder about Luke's whereabouts. Luckily for me, my curiosity was satiated when someone dropped into the seat next to me. "Hello," said Luke, a playful smile on his deathly pale face.

The hairs on my arms instantly stood up, a trail of goosebumps making their appearance in the area where Luke's skin came into contact with mine. My muscles tensed, something they did whenever he was near me. It felt like some kind of reflex.

Luke's eyes had returned to normal – they were all cobalt now, any trace of crimson completely washed away. He held a plastic cup in his hand which contained a dark red substance I believed to be blood. It wasn't a far-fetched assumption.

A nasty look crossed his face when his eyes landed on Beatrix. "What is she doing here?" He said, his mouth twisted into a scowl.

The friendly expression vanished from Beatrix's visage, and her eyes noticeably darkened. "It's great to see you too, Lucian."

I raised my eyebrows at their odd behaviour. "What's up with you guys?"

Luke rolled his eyes before switching his attention back to the swirling liquid in his cup. "Beatrix annoys me," he said simply.

"I could say the same about you," snapped Beatrix, glowering at him. When she met my curious eyes again, her expression softened and she sighed in defeat. "To cut it short, Luke and I have bumped into one another a couple of times, and I can't say that they were pleasant encounters."

"Also, you know that whole 'vampires-vs-werewolves' thing?" Blake piped up. "Apparently it applies to these two."

I glanced at Beatrix. "You're a werewolf?"

"In the flesh," she replied. "Or rather, in the fur." She grinned to herself at her little joke.

"Wait... so do vampires actually hate werewolves and vice versa? You know, like in the movies?"

"No," said Amelie in an obvious tone.

Beatrix had a wicked glint in her eyes. "Maybe we do," she said, sending a meaningful look towards Luke. The vampire caught her message and smirked before speaking again.

They leaned forward dramatically and put on their best theatrical show.

"Werewolf," Luke hissed ominously.

"Vampire," growled Beatrix in response.

Twilight much?

I watched them in amusement, a small smile pulling at my lips. We all burst into fits of laughter, and even Kace managed to crack a smile. "You guys don't really hate each other, do you?" I asked them. "I mean, 'hate' is a strong word."

Beatrix shrugged. "I despise him," she said offhandedly.

"I can't stand her," added Luke in the same manner.

I couldn't help but grin at this. These newly acquired friends of mine seemed really cool to hang out with, and I was glad that I wasn't such a loner on my first day at school.

A loud metallic bang echoed around the cafeteria, making me wince at the painful noise. I heard Blake groan exasperatedly. "Oh no, they're at it again."

Beatrix rolled her eyes. "By the fucking angels, they can never grow a pair and act mature for once, can they?"

In the centre of the cafeteria, two stocky guys were facing off with each other, eyes dark and stormy, teeth bared like savage animals. They seemed to be not much over the age of fourteen, yet were as tall and muscular as the seniors of this school. One had spiky jet black hair while the other had sandy blonde hair. Their eyes were both a deep midnight black, their pupils so dilated they almost occupied the entire iris.

"Who are they?" I asked quietly.

"Jake and Zac, just your ordinary testosterone-filled werewolves," answered Blake. "Fights between werewolves are regular occurrences here, whether or not they're from the same pack." Just as he said this, the dark-haired boy launched himself at the other guy with an animalistic snarl.

I watched in fascination as the two boys tangled with one another in a vicious brawl. Their bodies began to blur, clothes began to tear until there were no more humans at the scene – instead, two magnificent wolves stood in their place. One was a beautiful shade of black while the other had a gorgeous coat of white. Both had razor-sharp teeth and long, jagged claws. As much as I was admiring the scene playing out before me, I had also started to worry. "Uh, isn't this dangerous?"

Blake rolled his eyes at me. "No shit, Sherlock."

"It's only a matter of time before the teachers arrive," said Kace, seeming unamused by the supernatural fight taking place in the cafeteria as he entertained himself by listening to the heavy music pounding into his ears. He seemed unperturbed by what was happening.

Indeed, the teachers arrived not long after Kace's words. Two men and one woman, all dressed in professional work attire, burst through the doors to take care of the mess. The wolves were instantly sedated, and their bodies blurred again before changing back to human form. Their clothes lay in tatters around them, and the two boys were now butt-naked. While this image was disturbing, I was still in awe at Jake and Zac's physiques. Both appeared to have been carved from stone by Michelangelo himself.

The unconscious boys were taken to the infirmary by the teachers, and as soon as the fight was taken care of, students resumed their chatter, and noise filled the room once again.

After the incident with the werewolves, I had another question in mind that had been bugging me for quite some time. "Why is this school named after Darcey Blackwater?" Based on what Kace had told me about Waverly's death, Darcey Blackwater was a spirit gone mad.

"Ooh, I love this story," said Amelie, a twinkle of excitement in her viridescent eyes.

"Basically, Darcey Blackwater was the product of something illegal," stated Blake.

"Illegal?"

Beatrix nodded, adjusting the multiple piercings in her ears. "His mother was a vampire, and his father was an angel. Back then, which was several centuries ago, a relationship between a vampire – also called a 'cursed soul from Below' – and an angel – otherwise known as a 'flawless saviour from Above' – was strictly prohibited. The penalty for such a relationship was something much worse than death, which was the sad fate that awaited Darcey Blackwater. Darcey's parents broke the rules and gave birth to him – for his whole life, he was tormented and mocked for his parentage. As you know, kids can be cruel people.

"The bullying got worse, though, and followed him even after school was finished. The people of his town tormented him until he could no longer take it. They killed his sister in front of him and hung his parents on a tree for him to watch. Darcey's sister was the offspring of his mother and another vampire, so she wasn't 'illegal' as he was. However, Darcey wasn't a monster back then – he loved his sister, and killing her before his own eyes was brutal and sadistic."

"His story doesn't end there, though," continued Blake, the flames in his eyes growing higher. "Ultimately, Darcey was executed. The authorities claimed that they hadn't done it earlier because Darcey's parents had never caused any trouble in the past, even after they'd broken the rules. However, everyone knows that they only killed Darcey at the end because they wanted to torture him in the worst possible way, and an early death would defeat such a purpose."

"They tied a noose around his neck and hung him from the same branch where his own parents were killed, from the exact same tree," Luke said calmly. "They then brought his body back down after he was dead to slit his throat and let the blood seep into the ground."

"The spirit of Darcey Blackwater roamed the halls of this newly built high school for the next century until he finally went mad. During his journey to insanity, he murdered dozens of students in gruesome ways," said Blake. "He was damaged."

"Have you heard of the Circle?" Beatrix asked me, and I shook my head in response. "It's a prison built specifically for ghosts, but not just any regular ghosts – ghosts gone crazy, vengeful, or those who've become poltergeists."

"Where... where is this Circle?" I asked.

She shrugged. "No one really knows. It's in some parallel universe or another dimension, or something of the sort. They say it's the place where your nightmares come to life and your fears materialize at every turn. The Circle doesn't need solid walls to hold in spirits – it twists your mind until you consume yourself in your very own fear and insanity."

"It messes with your mind," Amelie said softly. She had been listening to the tale of Darcey Blackwater with intrigue, and from what I could tell, she was the type of person who enjoyed thriller movies. "It makes you kill yourself without even knowing it – your psyche is the key to your demise."

Your psyche is the key to your demise.

"Darcey Blackwater was sent to the Circle as soon as it was detected that he'd lost his mind," continued Beatrix. "They say you can still hear his screams through the thin barrier between our worlds."

I was wide-eyed. "Wow, that's intense."

"In a way, Darcey wasn't really the bad guy in this story," Luke spoke up. "He was only broken beyond repair."

"He's a hero to us," said Blake. "He's quite a famous figure in the supernatural world. This school was built with one goal in mind: to reunite the different species of creatures that once lived in a divided society. Back when Darcey was still alive, the supernatural world was segregated, and the different tribes or clans would only ever speak to each other for business-related things."

"I guess, in a way, he represents everything we've come to be, the changes we've made and the good things we've brought to our once corrupt world," said Amelie.

"Our world is still corrupt," I added.

Luke's eyes darted to mine. "Yeah, it is."

"What about the school's logo?" I suddenly asked. "Why is it an anchor with a noose?"

"When Darcey Blackwater was still alive, he formed a small group of people with the intention of rebelling against the laws," said Beatrix. "He called it the Blackwater Foundation, and its emblem was an anchor. It was that same group of people who came up with the idea to build this school.

"As for the noose, it symbolizes the hanging of the Blackwater family. Darcey and his family were hung on the same oak tree that still stands at the entrance of the school."

I looked out the window and spotted the tree of which Beatrix spoke. It was a tall, majestic tree, and stood before the school like a guardian. I found myself staring at the tree for just a moment, trying to picture the history behind it. And, for just a second, I thought I saw two bodies hanging from the tree. At the bottom of the tree was the flickering image of a body laid crumpled on the leaves, throat sliced open and blood soaking in the dirt.

At that moment, Amelie spoke again, her voice quiet and somewhat sinister.

"Darcey Blackwater High was built on the grounds where his blood was spilt."

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[A/N] From Radiohead's 'Creep':

"I don't care if it hurts

I want to have control

I want a perfect body

I want a perfect soul."