When the limousine pulls up, everyone stares.
I guess they aren't used to seeing someone like me. I don't blame them. Escador slides out from his seat and holds the door open for me, putting on a show.
Escador must be in his sixties. He was once a very attractive man, with a thin face, high cheekbones and an arching forehead. His head is near-bald, and his face is clean-shave. He stands a head taller than myself, and when he wraps me in his famous hug my head just misses his chin. I suppose Escador still is attractive, like an elderly Tom Cruise attractive.
His papery lips touch my cheek, and he whispers a prayer of luck into my ear, although knows I will not need it. I watch the limousine pull away from the curb, but even then the glances from my fellow students do not shift from me.
I ignore their stares. I just head towards the direction that I assume is the office. My skirt sways just above mid-thigh, showing off my long, pale legs. I have nice legs, and don't mind showing them off. No teachers dare to ask me to hitch my skirt down.
I wear my school uniform differently than my peers. My skirt is above regulation height, and my socks sit just below my knee. My shirt is tucked into the waist of my skirt, showing of my flat mid-drift. My school shoes are cut low, showing the tops of my feet. My shoe laces are almost plastered to the top of my shoes because I haven't undone them once, just slipped them on.
My hair is worn out, but braided at the front, creating a sort of headband. I don't often put my hair up, because I feel slightly unsecured about my neck, the most sensitive part of my immortal body, being exposed to the world.
The school is large - a lot bigger than some of the ones I've been to. It has two main buildings, and four smaller ones. The office is located at the front of the school, and so I walk along the immediate path in the direction of the front of the school.
Students and teachers swarm in and out of buildings. School is like the human version of a hive, in my opinion. Constantly moving, constantly humming.
I get a few glances as I head towards the front office, and some people actually do a double-take as I pass them. As I turn the corner, I am confronted by a boy who can't be much older (physically, of course) than myself.
His hair is an ashen shade of blonde, cut short at the back, with a long fringe. Half of his face is hidden behind his hair. He looks like a porcelain emo - the blonde version.
He walks headlong into me, scattering the contents of the folder he was holding.
"Oh s***! I'm sorry!"
The building is empty. I didn't even realise I was alone until now. Nobody witnessed out run-in. Porcelain Boy glances up, facing me. His eyes widen as recognition spills over his features.
Strange. He does seem familiar...
Papers float around us, and Porcelain Boy snaps out of his trances, and snatches them from the air.
"I'm really sorry. I was in a hurry," he says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic. His eyes widen at the sound of my own, hypnotic voice.
"It's okay. I would've been looking where I was going." I bend down to retrieve the papers from the ground. I amazed at what I see.
Artworks. Drawings, sketches of demons. Porcelain Boy must have a deranged mind; some of these are so realistic.
I scan the papers with my eyes, taking in the detail of the drawings. Porcelain Boy gathers the sketches into a pile and slides them back into his battered folder.
"Yeah, that's one of mine." I hand the drawing up to him. His cheeks colour slightly, then fade away. I push myself to my feet. I like this kid; he has skill with a pencil.
"I'm Ebony Escador," I declare, offering my hand. Porcelain Boy seems hesitant to touch it at first, as if I have some sort of disease.
Disease? Just imagine...
He then grasps it firmly, returning my smile with enthusiasm. "I'm Cole. Cole Hunter. You're new, right?"
I nod. "Yeah, just arrived."
He scans me, taking in my hair, my eyes, my uniform. Recognition floods back onto his face.
"Have I run into you before?"
I try to pick it, but I just can't. I feel as if I know him, as if...
"No, I don't think so. It isn't really possible; I moved here from Malibu."
Lying is as natural as breathing to me.
Cole. That's an interesting name, but it doesn't sound familiar. I scan his face, his eyes, which I now see are a stunning shade of electric blue. Well, the one eye that isn't hidden behind his incredibly long fringe.
There is a pause as we both study each other briefly. I am the one to break the silence.
"You're a pretty talented artist. What were those drawings of?" Cole's cheeks colour, and he slips a piece of paper out of his folder.
"They're demons. Shadow Demons. I had a dream about them once."
My heartbeat shudders as I skip a beat. Shadow Demons? What, like me? Is that what I am?
"Interesting. You had a dream about them? When?" My voice remains cool, and I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. Cole frowns.
"Last night, and the night before." Pause. "It's sort of a repetitive dream..."
"Which is why you can draw them so realistically," I finish. Cole frowns.
"Yeah. I guess so."
I study the image he pulled from his folder. It is shaped like a human, but some of it's features are blurry, and savage-looking. It is shaded in pencil, but I guess the dark, metallic-grey is what the demon would actually look like.
But this demon can't be me. This one has wings. Long, black, angelic wings, sprouting from it's back.
There are different angles at which the demon is drawn. Some have it's back to me, and others are seen from the front or the side. But the thing that puts me off the most is the fact that there is not just one Shadow Demon in the picture, but two. A male, and a female.
What does this mean?
I look up at Cole. His eyes gaze into mine. He shocks me when he speaks.
"You're eyes are a very interesting colour, Ebony."
I laugh as my heartbeat escalates. There's something about Cole that I'm missing.
"Yeah, they are pretty weird, huh?"
Cole frowns. I look towards the floor, developing an interest in my shoe laces.
Never in my entire life have I felt this way about a human. He knows me. I'm sure of it. The pictures, my eyes.
If you're wondering what is so shocking about him seeing the colour of my eyes, it is because I can see in ultraviolet, and my eyes are laced with ultraviolet. That's what makes them indigo.
Humans see my eyes as blue. Dark blue. I even asked Escador, and he said he sees them as blue.
Cole sees my eyes as indigo.
"I have to go and sign in now. Bye, Cole." The name feels strange on my tongue.
"Yeah, sure." Pause as he glances at me one more time. "I guess I'll see you around, Ebony."
He walks away. I don't turn around to watch him go. I just stand there, still shocked by what just happened. The pictures, my eyes. He registered all of this.
He knows. I know he does.
When all of this is over, I think I'm going to have to kill Cole Hunter.