Amaranth

Chapter Two

      The demon laughed as the prince vainly scrambled for his sword. He waited for the prince to reach his weapon, then dramatically snapped his fingers. Inhuman moans and screeches filled the air and the castle servants shuffled forward, their dead blue-gray flesh falling from the decomposing muscles and bones. Runic symbols swirled across surfaces and weaved between cracks and crevasses and holes of the rotting bodies.

      "Monster," growled the prince.

      "Human," sneered the demon. "Even when they are like this, you will not kill them, will you." It wasn't a question. He yawned, then turned his gaze to the shadows beyond where the prince stood. "How boring. Do something interesting, won't you?"

      The prince turned slowly, ready to see another decomposing face that he knew, but what emerged from the darkness caused his hand to go limp, his sword clattering to the ground.

      "My friend," he whispered. "My faithful knight..." The creature snarled. His sad human eyes begged for help, for forgiveness, for understanding. Then he lunged at the prince, who fell to the ground under the beast's enormous weight. Claws dripping venom slashed at helpless prince, who finally--

     Mara jumped as her phone buzzed for the third time that evening. Furious, she checked the caller i.d. only to confirm that it was the same unknown number that had called twice before. She gave up and turned the phone off. Shifting into a more comfortable position, she found her place in the book...and nearly fell out of her chair as something pounded on the front door.

     Muttering curses and imagining the most painful ways a bookmark could inflict damage on a person, Mara stomped to the door and stretched up on her toes to peek through the peephole. The person on the other side started whaling on the door again. That spiky black hair was starting to get on Mara's nerves...

     "What do you want?"

     Twyla looked like she'd run a marathon. Sweat beaded her face and her cheeks were flushed. She was breathing so hard she could barely speak, but she matched Mara glare for glare. Then she bent over and rested her hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

     "Why...didn't you answer...your phone?" she demanded between gulps of air. Mara felt herself getting angrier. Twyla's behavior at the shop had been bad enough, but this was far beyond that.

     "You are insane, you know that?!" She got right in Twyla's face, which was a lot easier than usual since she was still bent over. "For your information, I was reading, Twyla. I don't answer my phone if I don't know the number, and I do not enjoy being stalked or yelled at for no reason! What's your deal?!" she finished. "At school you act like your grouchy, surly self. You don't talk to anyone except for the Fenton's, and that's just another thing I don't get since they are much cooler than you. At the shop you didn't care about selling anything. You talked about "clutches," and you just wanted me out. Why?" Her eyes narrowed as she puzzled her way through the mystery that was Twyla Katafiotu.

     "It's not as a big a deal as you're making it out to be--" Twyla began.

     "Bull," Mara cut her off. "Now, here you are on my doorstep, about to pass out because you've been running who-knows-how-far after somehow getting my phone number and my address. Did I mention that's creepy? Because it is, Twyla. It really is." She leaned in again. "Nobody likes a stalker."

     Twyla wasn't bent over or gasping for breath anymore, but her shoulders were slumped and she didn't look angry anymore. She looked tired, and not just because she'd been running. Since Twyla always looked angry and walked straight with her head held high, it was as though a completely different person was standing on Mara's step.