BITE ME

Chapter 2- Mortal World

"Oh, no! F*ck!" Mathena screamed in frustration as she awoke with a jolt and wondered if what had occurred was just a dream or a figment of her overloaded imagination, or had it really happened? Xeon Morningstar was supposed to kiss her on the dark chamber’s balcony! Damn! She thought how even in dreams, she was that unlucky. Or was it too much to dream about someone willing to risk her touch? After all, she had this sort of ability. When she touched someone, either that someone would die or heal, ironic really, but she knew she was cursed to eternity.

Bloody hell!

Yes, it was a secret. She has been a curse since forever. She could heal someone by touch, or kill a broken, horrible person too, depending on her mood. She did her own research about this phenomenon, and she concluded that those dying people could be healed with her touch and when she touched them, she could see the color of their souls. Some were white and bright, and some were gray and very dark. Yes, it was all about the good and the bad.

Long before, when she was five years old, she remembered touching her uncle Ray's hands when the old guy was dying on his deathbed. He was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and was given a month to live, but when she touched him, he recovered immediately, and when the doctor did another checkup, his lungs were as clean and as fresh as a newborn baby. Maybe it was a miracle, but she knew better.

Since then, she has been experimenting, and when she was ten years old, she touched someone's soul. It was so dark and so frightening, she accidentally touched him, and right there and then, he died. Of course, the police thought it was just a mere accident, but she knew better because she felt something when she took the dark soul. She felt alive and so strong, even so, powerful, like she could lift the world. It felt like she had a dozen Redbulls and a bucket of coffee at the same time. And she ended up awake for a week, unable to take a rest or sleep. It was like her energy level was at its maximum, but what bothered her most was how delightful it felt. She didn't even feel guilty, sad, remorseful or anything, and she didn't like it, so she has never touched anyone since then and always wore gloves. Her friends and classmates called her a weirdo for it. But it was for the best. She didn't want to take any more souls. It felt wrong yet so right at the same time. And she has been afraid since then.

And now, dreaming about her visiting the underworld makes it all the more strange. Not that summoning someone was not, but she was supposed to trade her soul for normalcy, right? She was to trade her soul to Xeon and take her curse in exchange for her soul. One moment, she was there at his side, enjoying the scenery, looking at his wonderful Ryan Reynold-like eyes with a vengeance at how Green Lantern sucks, and because of that! f**k Canada! Her idol was still the most handsome man ever, well… not anymore, Xeon Morningstar was.

Anyway, one way to find out was to go to the mansion attic, her secret place, and see if she really made the salt-circle-thingy and summoned a demon from the underworld or if she had drifted to their realm. Weird, she wasn't scared nor guilty. In fact, she felt the opposite. She was eager to find out if Xeon hottie Morningstar was a figment of her imagination or reality. She preferred the latter though. A girl can dream, right?

So, she hurriedly donned her morning attic attire of white tennis skirt and shirt and rushed down the great oak staircase, only to draw up short at the sight of her older brother entering the hall. "Hey, nerdy, what's up?" Her brother Leonard grumbled.

She watched him carelessly knock his horse-riding cowboy hat against his thigh at a gracious pace to irritate her even more. "Milady? How is your mundane morning."

"Shut the hell out, Leonard," It was on the tip of her tongue to chide him, for he was usually her bully, but she knew her brother loved her just the same as she loved him. Leonard paused for a moment, his eyes drawn to the rich medieval trappings of the great hall and the massive, luxurious chandelier as she stood silently watching him. She knew his thoughts, for she had stood many times gazing in awe just as he was doing. It was an impressive living room with high, modern-like ceilings that boasted a cavernous fireplace large enough to roast a boar, sixteenth-century suits of armor, both French and English, and a myriad of well-dusted Spanish tapestries. Weird combination, but try telling that to her mother.

Yes, her mother likes to impress, and if the massive living room was not impressive enough, the silver sconces would. They were designed like ancient rush-light torches of animal fat, empty now but highly polished, and were fastened to its stone walls at six-foot intervals. Plus, there were many ugly medieval paintings that they didn't understand, but their mother was so proud of them.

"Will you stop gaping at it, Leonard?"

"It was weird, you know," her brother grumbled, looking at the oddity of the highly polished torches. "Why did mother add it there anyway? It looked creepy enough to me."

"I know I feel the same, she said it's about bad luck and curses," she agreed and raised a brow watching his getup, "...where are you going anyway?"

"To my babies… Blackie is sick again," Leonard replied, as she watched him stop below the painting of their long-dead great-great-great grandfather. She smiled, thinking about the old man who looked exactly like Leonard. However, their grandfather was fascinated by the ruins of an ancient castle situated on a gentle rise of newly purchased land, and had its great hall rebuilt to its former grandeur according to his own vision. He was then, caught up in his handiwork, and inspired by dubious legends of King Arthur, the old man had expanded his fancy into a four-towered edifice of soft gray stone. The result was perhaps a bit unusual for its time. Nevertheless, a massive grand castle that all subsequent generations of her father would have protected with his life.

Yes, they were rich. Her father was a billionaire, who owned a hotel chain all over Europe. Her mother, an elite fashionista, had her own fashion brand and was fairly famous in her own right. Mathena's only sibling, Leonard, was also on top of his career at the age of twenty-five. He was fascinated by horses and was a famous equestrian. Well, as for her, she was the youngest, fresh graduate of her own choice, of course, Information Technology. She was, as his brother called her, weird, nerdy, a loner, and naive. That was it. She was nothing but ordinary. With her chestnut eyes, brown curly hair, and pale complexion, she looked ordinary, but looks can be deceiving because she was far from ordinary. She was something else, and she was the only one who knew about it, and maybe, Xeon f*****g Morningstar if the man really existed.

Mentally shaking her head, she asked her brother, just to annoy him,

"Why don’t you sell Blackie?"

He frowned, and she raised her brows, wondering what he was thinking. She tugged at his coat sleeve and teased, "Or brother dear, let me help you," She paused, wondering yet again if Leonard forgave her for killing his baby horse last summer. It was not an accident. She touched the pony and knew the horse was dying and was begging her to free her from pain, so she did what she thought was best. She held the head of the horse and it died. It was heartbreaking to put it mildly, because Leonard thought she killed it. But how could she explain to her brother that she could understand the pony and that it begged her to be free from the pain? He would consider her crazy.

It was one of her other abilities, she could talk to any creatures great or small. Maybe she was really cursed to be alone for her entire life because no one in their right mind would accept her for what she truly was. It was also the reason that she had never had a friend or boyfriend. She was afraid of rejection. She knew she was unique, she was different, and there was nothing she could do about it, but recently she found some article on the internet about summoning a demon and trading her soul for anything, and she did, foolishly.

Leonard grumbled, "f*****g no! Don't you come near Blackie, or I swear, I'm going to cut your hair." The look of dismay in Mathena’s brown eyes quickly turned to excitement. So that was it. She felt her blood quicken, and her eyes sparkled. "Fine!" Mathena smiled, not doubting for an instant that Leonard would lose his young heart to his dashing horses, "Where are you heading, anyway?" He smiled ironically at his sister, guessing that she had been spinning her weird fancy book reading in her attic again. It amused him, for Mathena was about as subtle as a fired cannon.

"None of your business," she frowned at him, remembering that she was supposed to be in the attic and wishing he'd shown a little more enthusiasm, but Leonard was always a jerk, and she wasn't surprised. After all, he resembled their father so closely it was uncanny, save for his dark green eyes. Only she had inherited her father’s brown chestnut eyes and dark brows, in startling contrast to her fair complexion and honey-colored curly hair, which she inherited from her mother, "Bye, stinky horse," first things first, she thought, lifting her heavy books, dashing down the stairs and spinning around the heavy open doubled-door out to the grand, majestic garden and to her secret treehouse, going up the ladder to the windowed attic.

Excited, Mathena arrived at her attic in record time. There, she saw the salt circle-thingy she carelessly maneuvered, with a set of dark candles, an old Latin manuscript she found in the library, "Hmmm, what happened here exactly?" She mused to herself, then carefully pacing around the creaky floor. She knew she had done the ritual thingy here but ended up sleeping in her room. "Weird."

With renewed enthusiasm, Mathena then gingerly spread the single sheet of paper before her on the old, abandoned dressing table. "Should I summon someone again?" She read the Latin manuscript silently. "Worth a try," she whispered under her breath. She removed her tennis skirt, wore the old satin white gown, lit the candle, spread some salt in the circle again, and there she stood in the middle as she started her magical ritual, and yes, she didn't even know what it was supposed to do, but she was too desperate enough to try again, "Ecce ego servus tuus, voco te ut accedas et aperias ostium tuum ut tradam animam meam." Here I am your servant, I am summoning you to come forward and thy portal so I can trade my soul.

Nothing, she still stood there, waiting, grumbling the Latin words in her mouth, too desperate now..."Please please!'

She read it again and again, more slowly this time, less desperate, and then in a blink, it went dark. "f**k!"