Chapter 1

            It was just a normal day, if somewhat less than satisfactory, when It decided to show up.

            There weren’t many things that could freak me out this late in the game, but I still found it disorienting when They popped up unexpectedly. This one had an especially nasty look on It’s face, beautiful yet artistically incorrect; as if someone had hit It repetitively, broken several bones and bruised the skin, before time had stopped, leaving the face frozen like that for eternity. The characteristic face of one of Them " until it changed into the face of my best friend, pinched and freckly with high cheekbones and dark brown eyes, just to taunt me. It didn’t become visible to the rest of the people walking around the mall, which meant It knew I could see It " even so I took a page out of the surrounding pedestrian’s books and ignored It.

            Supposedly today was resolved to fulfilling it’s 24-hour goal of pissing me off, because It fell into step next to me, giving me a smile too alike to Reese’s own for my own comfort. I sternly reminded myself that Reese hardly smiled that widely, and she would never be caught dead with one for that long, so there was no way the thing walking beside me was her. These assurances still didn’t stop my nerves from jangling a ringing cacophony of nausea and irritation; so I swallowed my pride and allowed myself a peek into Its Veneer. Yup. Same half-dead, half-supermodel look, same broken face, same nasty smirk.

            Feeling safe in the knowledge that It was, in fact, one of Them, and not my friend acting insanely strange, I turned my music up loud enough not just to draw the glares of anger and disgust from the more peaceful, conservative shoppers around me, but to make my mind numb of anything but the slamming drums and screeching guitars. Yes, I was relieved my friend hadn’t suddenly been possessed with the spirit of good humor, but at the same time this wasn’t what I needed right now.

            I mean, who wants to be stalked by a doppelganger?

            In annoyance my finger impulsively turned the music up a scratch higher. Most of Them hated creative energy of any sort " music, writing, art, word puzzles, math puzzles, etc., for it reduced Their power of influence " nothing irked Them more than a person firmly in control of their own mind. My personal stalker was no exception; with a scowl It dropped Its disguise and floated It’s usual three-and-a-quarter inches off the ground, drifting off to find some more susceptible prey. Prey that would mistake It for their friend, follow It, get hopelessly lost. Lose something important. Be convinced to do something they would never do otherwise. Mess up their lives and relationships in ways they always could before, but never did. Despair, hate themselves. Hate others. Go driving recklessly, get drunk, get high.

            Die.

            Watching It leave, I smiled a little at the insignificant victory, and muttered, “Try a fake mustache next time,” rather annoyed by the chilled blood that still slugged through my veins. You’d think I would be used to seeing monsters no one else could, having had the curse since the day I was born. You’d even think I would have some kick-a*s moves for driving these monstrosities off, pounding them to a pulp whenever they got closer than I liked. You might even go so far as to think that after seventeen years I would have found some way to permanently erase them from at least my life, if not the planet’s existence.

            But winning small was the only way to win that I knew.

            Though I had been successful with driving It away, I didn’t bother to turn down the music " a good song was coming up, one worthy of the loud volume I had pumped it to. Humming the opening cords under my breath, I continued down the shopping mall, looking for the store I had come here for in the first place. A gaggle of giggling girls passed, snorting a bit at my unstylish appearance. What, fingerless gloves weren’t fashionable anymore? Well, at least the “In” list still included long black hair streaked with bolts of blue. No? Well, I’ll be.

            Please.

            Smiling at them, I gave them a little finger-wiggle before flashing them the “hungry” look I had perfected in my mirror at five years old " the one that got the bullies on the playground crying. Faces white, they scuttled away from yours truly the freak, their voices higher-pitched than usual as they talked of the current vampire romance novel.

            “Was that really all that necessary? Mo,” asked a sweetly lilting voice next to me. Looking up, a dim open shop greeted me, hard rock music playing softly in the background (man, don’t I always tell those guys to crank up the volume?). I realized I had arrived at my destination. Smiling as something within me cried out, home, home, home, I shifted my attention to the small, curly-headed girl the voice had come from and said, “Yes, Felicia, it was.” She pouted a little and I ruffled her curls, noticing she had not yet outgrown the frilly pink complex she had developed a couple of months back. Disney Princess was the phrase that came to mind, though she glared at me when I thought it, which only made my smirk wider.

            A figure loomed above me, as tall and broad-shouldered as a man though I knew differently, and after a moment’s hesitation came out from the darkly lit shop she had been hidden in. Revealing a wide, face-splitting smile out of place paired with her imposing stature, she purred, “Imogene!” Her loose blonde hair that was long enough to touch her waist she had pinned up in a funky bun, and I nodded up at her hovering figure.

            “Echo, hey,” I greeted, my eyes registering the darkness as I went inside, simultaneously taking off my headphones and turning my music off. Knowing the cute girl and the hulking, 29-year-old mass of shopkeeper that had greeted me were following, I continued, “How’s business?”

            “Oh, well, you know.” Echo flapped one of her hands vaguely to encompass the entire shop behind her while finishing, “it lives.” Her gesture towards the shop made me focus on it’s strange interior " dark green walls, purple tiger rugs and racks upon racks of black clothing, chains, belts, arm gloves, boots, etc taking up the main space. Coming to the rack near the cash register, I fingered a gold chain that had caught my eye. If you looked close enough, it was not a chain at all, really, but a bunch of words intertwined together that read ‘crawling cats come clearly through the clover’. Raising my eyebrow at the phrase, I let it drop as I asked calmly “What happened to not mixing the shop with real business?” Echo shrugged uncomfortably.

            “I saw you coming,” announced Felicia, her nine-year-old need to be in the spotlight saving Echo from a pointed silence. She had hopped up onto the store counter, next to the old-fashioned cash register half her size, for easier access into my personal space. Her narrow green eyes became suddenly round, her pupils dilating as she made her voice low and spooky. With a bland stare she leaned forward and repeated, “I saw you with my Sight.”

            A chill erupted down my spine despite myself, and I broke the spell by laughing loudly. “You’re getting good at that, kid.” I ruffled her hair again, and she scowled, though I know she was pleased at my praise. “Stop touching my hair,” she said huffily as she hopped back down. “I do know what you’re here for.”

            “I’m always here for the same thing.” I remarked mildly, scanning the shop, my eyes considering on an elaborate naked half-cat woman statue tucked in the corner, before glancing to a boring door that plainly read Staff Only Bathroom. Striding to it purposefully, I found Echo there patiently waiting for Felicia and I to stop chatting, and as we came forward she gave a slight grin and opened to door. “After you.”

            Felicia, who hadn’t waited for the invitation, plowed right past me, her amber curls bouncing. Rolling my eyes in response to her triumphant look, I followed the small girl and tossed over my shoulder, “’After you’ is so not appropriate for a Goth clothing shop, not to mention the secret entrance for a creepy tunnel. More like...”

            “The darkness awaits you,” snickered Felicia from somewhere in front of me, already at the end of the passage the false bathroom door had concealed. Annoyed that she had taken my phrase, probably snatched it from my mind, the little snot, I regained composure and said a little sarcastically, “Yes, that.”

            “Hmm,” said Echo, seriously contemplating it, before the tunnel turned sharply and I was greeted abruptly by a dead end.

Author's Note

Chapter one. The entire story is first person, told by my main character, Imogene Rush. Hence, "Mo".
Enjoy.
(c) Neko Green 2010