"The Ritual Chapter 2" by Victoria G. ´Vix´ Olmstead

The next morning Georgie woke up in her bed. She opened her eyes and thought sarcastically ‘oh, what a glorious morning’. She had faint memories that didn’t make sense and a splitting headache. The memories didn’t quite add up so Georgie concluded it must have been a dream. Georgie climbed slowly out of bed and walked lazily into the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and thought ‘Ugh, why do I look like this? Why do I live like this?’ Georgie stared at her reflection for a moment entranced by the way her black hair with whitish blonde highlights fell around her ghostly white face. Her face was rounded but fairly thin accented by her amazing dark grey eyes and bright red lips. Her eyes always seemed to have wisdom beyond her years. Georgie continued to glare at her reflection. She looked over her pajama clad body. She was thin but surprisingly muscular. Her skin was pale as if she’d never seen the sun. She, for some reason, liked it that way. She wasn’t one for the day time. She preferred the night because it was always darker and cooler.

As she looked at her reflection, she noticed an odd scratch on her neck. She decided it was probably from the walk back after sunset. She must not have noticed it last night. ‘Peculiar scratch’ she thought as she bandaged it. She picked out her clothes and got dressed. She dressed in her favorite black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. She put on her favorite spiked choker and spiked leather cuff.

She began to walk down the stairs to take something for her annoyingly odd headache, but for some reason she felt as if she were being watched. She closed the curtains and sat in complete darkness. She still couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. She knew no one was looking through her windows because the curtains were closed and as far as she knew there wasn’t anyone in the house with her.

All of the sudden, she heard a noise behind her. She turned around quickly and saw him. Him, the man from her dream. Still he was dressed in black. She stuttered with slight fear, “Wh—who are ya—you?”

“Georgie, we’ve been through this line of questioning already.”

“What are you talking about? No we haven’t.” she stated simply.

His face was blank with confusion for a moment. Immediately he understood what was going on. “Malik!” he screamed angrily. Georgie’s face showed nothing except bewilderment.

The man asked calmly, “Do you remember another last night?”

Georgie didn’t comprehend. She demanded, “What on Earth are you talking about? Last night? Another what exactly? Why must you be so vague? Who are you?”

The man looked Georgie over. She was paler than last night but still extremely attractive. His eyes fell on the bandage on her neck. He was surprised. The man tried to hold his tone calm, but he wasn’t being very successful “What happened to your neck? Do you remember?”

Georgie’s hand moved to the bandage. “My neck?” she asked in a semi confused manor, “Oh, my neck. It was cut sometime after sunset last night.”

“Are you sure? Think very hard. Try to remember correctly. Be absolutely sure.”

Georgie thought very hard and replied, “I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but then again I can only remember sunset so I just assume it happened coming home from watching the sunset. Wait, why won’t you tell me who you are? How do you know me?”

“I know you because you are my key, my mission. It is my job to know you. After your mother died when you were six, I was to watch, not to interfere, to be sure you mother and father hadn’t taught you the skills of a hunter. Is THAT blunt enough for you?” he answered hastily.

“Your key? Why must I hear only lies from you? Last night, you ran upstairs with no care for your own safety to protect me. After that you’d think you’d tell me the truth. Wait I met you last night after sunset. I remember. I remember a conversation, a hug, an insult, noises upstairs, and a blonde man with deformed,” Georgie grimaced as if it was gross just saying it. “Deformed teeth. Then I remember nothingness. After that there was nothing until I woke up this morning with a splitting headache and no clue.”

“That blonde man was Malik. He is another of my kind who believes I will not do my job when the time comes. So he’s going to attempt to take over. I can’t allow that.”

“Exactly, what job might you not do? Why would you not be able to fulfill your job?”

“Believe me,” he stated respectfully,” you don’t want to know the full points of my job. It has details that I’m not extremely pleased about I will complete it when the time comes.”

“Okay,” Georgie replied, “but will you at least tell me one thing? Just one?”

“Depends on what you want to know.”

“Will you tell me who you are? Just a name. I’d like to know you name what to call my mystery man?”

“Haven’t we already been through this? You need not know who I am, you need not contact me. You may call me anything you like for I cannot tell my name.”

“Please, a name, first middle, any one of them?” Georgie begged.

“Georgie, I must go. I’m forced to deal with Malik and his treachery. G’night.”

“Night? It’s not night yet. It’s only noon.” As sure as Georgie was about this, she forced herself to glance at where the wall clock was, to become one hundred percent sure.

The man walked to the window and opened the curtains. Oddly enough, it was black outside, completely dark. Georgie’s clock still read noon. ‘How can this be,’ she thought, ‘it’s only noon yet it is dark.’

“Your clock is broken, goodnight.” He stated as she slipped out the door. It closed tightly behind him.

Somehow on the wind she thought she heard him say, “My name was taken when I became this. I still know it but very few others do. Many call me Zebre.”

She couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still there, still standing beside her, in front of her. She remembered his grin before he kissed her on the cheek. She smiled. She wished he’d tell her his full name. for some reason she was uncomfortable and she couldn’t stop thinking about a guy whose real name she didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure she knew his nickname. She’d only heard that on the wind. It was probably just her imagination. ’Why did he always seem to leave in the middle of their conversations?’