The Discarded

Chapter 27

Friday October 31st 2014

The cafeteria was a monument to Samhain's tapestry of midnight. While devils, vampires, werewolves, zombies, and movie icons dotted the tables, they were isolated islands in a sea of older, truer legends. The Umbrae Lunae had their own myths, tales of darkness passed down through thousands of years of savage history. Abominations and horrors of unholy power, goddesses that commanded nations and ruled lands with names no human could speak. Dead gods and terrors swallowing worlds and genocide gleefully played across dimensions.

Few and far between were the voids of sorrow. Students in black, pendants of the dead marking their throats. This was the time of the corpse, the one day when the veil thinned enough for the lost to visit their kin. Love or hate, either could drive the dead into the world of flesh. Spirits pushed from the realms of the dead, reaching for the blood they had lost, the family denied them by death's hand.
The dedicated devoted today to the lost, talking to them in whispers, telling tales of the year and how much they love them, drowning themselves in memories of the ones that had passed on. Seats were left open with plates set aside for the dead, pictures laid down as place settings. Conversations swirled around the kids in black. Uncaring, the sorrowed were lost to their friends. Consumed by a realm where life was only a phase and blood a bond that disappeared into misty times ruled by gods.

Laughing with the harem and her boyfriend, Anastasia shone. She'd gone into the realm where only the rich walk. The dress was an iridescent shimmering blue, sapphire bright in the light that graced its threads. Silver brocade flowed down shoulders and along the sides, patterns of flame that glittered and danced with every move she made. Running up to her neck, the heavy fabric hid her curves.

For once the world could see how beautiful she was without being lost in flesh. A singular tongue of flame, her hair waterfalled down one shoulder, burning against a field of blue. Thicker than his arm, outshining the dress, it danced with the cruelty of a world on fire. Now everyone could see what Cesare had always known—that she wasn't just sexy, but a beautifully elegant woman.

The cafeteria went still on catching sight of the group of girls that pushed their way into the room. Their short skirts rode high on the thigh, showing off artfully torn stockings. Scarlet corsets cinched tight, revealed vast expanses of pale flesh. Bleached blonde hair flowed down their backs while fake fangs dropped from scarlet lips. But it was what hung between their breasts that drew the eye. Crosses, complete with a Jesus dipped in fake blood, trails of red spider webbing across pale cleavage.

They sneered as they passed in front of Cesare's table, identical green eyes glaring at him with a personal kind of hate. Claiming the table he'd always thought of as Alexandra's, they were swarmed by students. Mostly guys hoping to get lucky, but a fair number of girls looking for the latest gossip. The exile was over. With this public break from Alexandra and all she stood for, they'd buy back the acceptance of the students.

Cesare waited in class as the others filed in. The group of slut vampires took their normal seats, trading satisfied smirks when Alexandra failed to show.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Cesare was already cramming books into his bag. He was finished and ready to leave before the others had started to stand. Stalking up to Elizabeth's desk, his duffel bag settled across his back.

"Where's Alexandra?" The question silenced the class behind him, freezing them in place.

"She called out sick." Her voice was professional, but her eyes showed concern ... for him, not Alexandra.

"I'm feeling sick. Can I be excused for the rest of the day?" Cesare asked.

Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly. "I'll notify your other teachers."