"Ms. Tanner, I need an answer. So, I'll ask for the seventh time." My guidance counselor sighs, pinching the bridge of her tan nose. "What is your future career choice?!"
For the seventh time in twenty minutes I shrug.
"Why are you my making my job harder? Come on, just give me a major, any major. Even one you're not interested in. I just need to put something to down on this form." My counselor exclaims, waving around a piece of paper.
I don't even bother with a shrug this time, and just stare down at my shoes. A future? She wants me to pick a major, and a desk job for the rest of my life right this very minute?
What future can a necromancer have? A mortician? A grave digger? Or worse do I call myself a psychic, and contact strangers' dead loved ones for the rest of my life? I never put much thought into my future because a person who sees ghosts can't have one.
I can't even focus on college tours knowing werewolves are running out in the world. How many fanged werewolves are in my grade alone? There's already two that I know about. What are they going to do to me now that I know about them? Maul me?
"Ms. Tanner, you're nearly a straight A student, but without any extracurriculars or sports you're no one's first choice. Socialize. Participate." My counselor insists, rubbing her temples. Not reacting I try not to stress about how many people in this school can eat me. I can't be bothered by something as measly as this guidance councilor meeting.
"Just go to class, Ms. Tanner." She dismisses with a heavy sigh. Seeing werewolves run around my head I somehow walk out of the office in a daze without walking into a wall.
Later
"Can we sit here?"
Looking up from my book I find Elijah standing over me with an annoyed Finn reluctantly looming behind him. Stomach dropping I give a very hesitant nod.
The shade of my favorite tree is suddenly crowded by the two brunettes dropping on the grass next to me. I pull my book closer to my face in a weak effort to hide, which obviously doesn't work.
"Is this all you do during the one hour we don't have classes? Sit on the grass in silence, fre-"
"Don't say it, Finn." Elijah warns. With an annoyed huff, Finn reluctantly clamps his mouth shut. On my left Finn rocks back and forth like a dormant volcano ready to burst.
"So, cutting straight to the point. Now that you've discovered us, our pack needs to meet you, and swear you to secrecy, Daisy." Taken off guard, my hardcover painfully lands on my face, crushing my nose. So still from shock I don't even manage an ow, or wince at the throbbing pain.
"Can I please laugh? That was hilarious." I hear Finn's voice shaking with repressed laughter.
"Of course not, Finn. It's not funny." Elijah scolds. Sunlight rushes at my brown eyes as Elijah pulls the seven hundred page novel off my freckled face.
"You okay? That looked like it hurt." No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. Head spiraling with questions, I manage a nod. Werewolves. Giant carnivorous predators with fangs, and claws want to meet me face to snout?
Stumbling to my feet, I hurriedly gather up my things. Death, I need to speak to Death. The reaper will know what to do.
"Where are you going?" Elijah asks, getting to his feet to give me worried filled eyes.
"You scared her off." Finn comments unhelpfully. He may be right, which is scarier. I have had literal nightmares stalk me. I was being haunted by ghosts since I can remember. But being surrounded by the deadliest four legged carnivores in the world strikes fear into the heart of this necromancer. Well, that I know of.
"Daisy-"
"I-I'll be right b-back." I manage before running off.
Later
"D-Death?" I pant, falling against my bedroom door. "Death?"
"Why are you home before day time television programs end?" Death drops one of my books. The grim reaper lounges across my bed, her grey head hanging off the edge.
"Werewolves. Elijah said werewolves." I pant, my heart pounding painfully uneven.
"Okay, take a breath. Seriously, breathe." Death advises, the air around me freezing over as she pops next to me. Gulping a huge lump in my throat, I try to keep follow her advice and struggle to steady my breathing.
"Now try again at grasping the English language, Daisy." Death gently takes hold of my shoulders, my skin going cold at her touch. I revel in the frigidness, it's numbing cold so familiar, it's comforting.
"... Elijah, said I have to be go in front of his entire pack, and be sworn to secrecy." My voice shakes as I explain. Just saying it out loud scares me. Death's brown brows jump to her grey hairline, her grey eyes widening. Somehow I surprised Death.
"Are they going to attack me till I promise I won't ever speak again?" I whisper with a trembling bottom lip. Will Elijah's pack bite my face off? Or brand me like a cow with a moon symbol? Or sacrifice me to their moon gods?
"Breathe in, Daisy. Breath in." Death orders, ironically mimicking breathing by sucking in a big breath through her nose. Following her example, I take a big breath, feeling my lungs expand.
"Now breathe out."' She blows out a cold steady stream of air through her mouth that stings my cheeks like a breeze during a snow storm. Releasing the breath I was holding in one big shaky burst, I feel a little more steady.
"Again," Death starts, "breathe in. Breath out." She finishes, taking another big breath. We take seven more deep breaths till I've calmed down a little.
"They're not going to hurt you. Unless you make them mad with defiance." I tremble at Death's words.
"I've reaped my share of werewolves. They're a traditional species, whose been around since the first humanoid. Alphas, betas, packs. They have bylaws they've lived by for centuries. My educated guess is you'll probably go through a ceremony." Death explains.
"What kind of ceremony?" I whisper, every worse scenario playing out in my mind.
"Definitely not a blood ceremony. They're not monsters. They're just as human as you. You'll meet a munch of old wolves, sign some papers, and disclose some information."
"Like the information that I see dead people?" I barely manage to say, the words hardly audible. Like always my best friend, Death, hears me. The mute girl necromancer with no friends.
"They walk on all fours. You just happen to communicate with spirits. They can't judge a fellow paranormal, that would be so hypocritical." Death assures me, taking hold of my hand, her cold fingers comforting me.
"Does Elijah judge you?" She asks knowingly.
"No." Just the mention of his name makes my stomach do nervous flips. The terror is subsiding. I can do this if Elijah is there next to me.
"I've never seen you like this before, Daisy. Whenever it comes to this guy you're not at all chronically oppressed like you always are. This guy," her grey eyes scan my freckle face, my cheeks still flush from stress, my brown eyes bright with fear, and my worried frown still in place. "He makes you reacts. He makes you feel."
"He makes you live, Daisy."
A/N: Honestly I'm more emotionally invested in DeadDaisies than Elies
