Black and white

b} Chapter One


The smooth olive complexion of his forehead crinkles up like leather, into a fixation of worry.
“But you can’t leave!” he stutters, “I love you!”

“Love!” I spit, “what of it!”

He frowns angrily. “Lamilia! PLEASE, it's a big thing for me. I hate it. You hear that! I HATE that I love you - it makes me feel trapped...and ... I'm afraid... I've never felt like this before...I think... I think I'm in love with you...”

I raise my eyebrows, “So? What’s that supposed to mean, that I should stay to keep your feeble heart beating?”
I sigh, observing my nails and saying almost to myself, “Then again, you’re only human.”

He slams his hand down on the table. “Why’d you act like you’re so much more- like nobody's worthy of you!”

“That’s because nobody is, silly.” I grin.
Toying is so much fun. But this guy is proving hard to shake off. And I’m getting bored.

He looks down at his untouched sandwich, "Have you forgotten those nights we spent together in spring? You were so different then."

ohhh, Sly.
“Look I’m sure there’s a hundred other girls out there, that’ll want to be with you, why on earth are you bothering with me, eh?”

“Don’t you see? I want no one else! I can’t love anyone BUT you. I’m well and truly whipped.”

“Sucker.” I chuckle.

He continues to rant, “I love you for everything you are, even though you’re far from being an angel.”

“Finally you understand something.”

He ignores me, “Your beautiful dark hair, your pale skin,“ he touches my cheek, “ your snake-like eyes… I just can’t get enough of you! I NEED you, please understand, Lamilia.”

I put a hand on his shoulder and cock my head to one side. “Of course I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” I smile my sweetest.

“Then why-“

“How many other men have said the same? Hmmm, let me see-“

“What do you mean?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

I lean forward and kiss him, gently, on his soft blonde hair. The smell of his cologne hits me. Ugh.
“You’re like all the others honey. Nothing to me.”
I get up to leave, “You don’t mind paying the bill, do you?”

He stares at me, stricken. A tear rolls down the bridge of his nose.

“Cheers babe,” I wink and open the Starbucks door. “Enjoy life.” I coo and step into the street.

As darkness falls, I enter my almost empty flat. It’s dull and boring but practical. It's no different from my others, really. I used to doll them up a bit, make it roomy and all that, but since the time I had ten in one month, lets just say I gave up.
I must say I regret being kind to that guy. Man, that’s really not like me. Normally, I just disappear and leave them to grieve for the girl with the snake eyes. Or I kill them. Depends.
It’s true though, they are snake-like. Not the same but similar enough, I guess. My eyes, though, are the eyes of a child belonging to Satan – a daemon. Well hell, that’s me all right! Thing is, people only notice once they’ve formed an attachment to me, which I guess is pretty lucky since it’s something I’d get rep’ for…  I tell them it’s a birth deformity, the idiots. I mean as if I could have any kind of deformity. I'm a Goddamned work of art and when I say 'God-damned', I mean it literally.

My phone bleeps.
Please think it over? Talk things through?
I text back…
Tough luck Babes xx
I lob the phone out the window.

A few minuets later, I’ve packed my designer bag with everything I need, which includes, shall we say, very little. Before zipping it up I hesitate, taking a moment to think, then proceed to produce the soul source of vanity and selfishness- the mirror.
It’s not just any mirror though.
I look into its clear, pearl-like glass, gazing at my own perfection.
“Father?”
I wait.
“Daughter.” Comes the raspy reply, as the reflection evolves into a sea of fire.
“My next assignment?”

Before my seventeenth birthday I have to complete three hundred and sixty tasks for the Dark Lord, my father. I started as soon as I was capable of killing. As I got older, they got harder and harder and I witnessed and carried out horrific crimes. All trace of innocence is drained from me. But what choice did I have? I was born for this, made for it. What's in it for me? Plenty, as long as all three hundred and sixty are completed. If they're not, I’m just like any other mortal and completely powerless. I don't want that. Who would want that if they knew what they COULD have? I could almost burst with excitement thinking about it. But that's stupid of course. I'm evil, I’m not going to 'burst with excitement thinking about it' like some six year old waiting for their birthday.
'Pttf'

Anyway, the tasks consist of carrying out actions that prove your loyalty to darkness. And, honestly, you don't want me to go into it. It’s pretty gruesome. What's more, I'm pushed for time and it can't be rushed and messy because 'daddy' doesn't like you leaving loose ends. Talk about making life harder.
The new task takes me to South London but I have no idea what I’m up for. I know I’m being transferred to a school there but that’s, like, my only guidance as to what the heck I’m meant to be doing. Again, thanks DADDY. My guess is it's some pupil there that’s messed up big time.

England turns out to be cold (not what I’d bargained for in my skirt and skimpy vest) but the air smells fresh in a damp sort of way and the landscape is lush and green. My eyes feed on the newness of it all.
On the train I see the guy opposite me eye me up. Smiling, I ask him if he has any spare change I can borrow to buy a drink. As if I’d travel without money, ha! I’m such a bullshitter.

He blushes, "Erm, sure. Go for it." His accent makes me stop. Cute.
He hands me a few pounds.

"Oh, you're SUCH a gentleman."

He grins back, "I know."
Cheeky.

I get a coffee dusted with chocolate and return to carriage B. The guy looks up.
"You, boy. Are my man."

Without asking, I move his bag and take the seat beside him, sipping my hot drink. It burns my tongue. "I'm Lamilia, B.T.W."

"Jake. You American?"

"Well, yes. That I would be."

"Cool," He then gestures to the window, "came for a change of weather I’m guessing?" He jokes.

I laugh, or at least pretend to. English humour...

I flirt, mildly, with Jake, to keep myself entertained. I mean, it’s not like he’s dead gorgeous or anything. He seems to take it seriously though, offering compliments hear and there. Get a grip dude.
If I’m honest I think we could be friends, he’s a good laugh. Well, if I actually did the whole friends thing.

“So Jake,” I put my pink-nailed hand over his and grin, “This is my stop next. I guess its goodbye from me.”

"Really?" He looks disappointed, "Well, I can help you with your bags if you like?"

“I’m good, thanks.” I smile and swing my minuscule prada handbag onto my shoulder. "See you around."

I step off the train and onto the ugly concrete platform, with ease, as the other passengers struggle with their luggage. One, rather large lady in an unflattering red and pink nit jumper, trips on the yellow line so that her hefty bags clunk to the ground and hit the child that clutches her hand, in the leg. Wailing, the child's face crumples up in pain. The large lady curses, regains balance, before whisking the kid out the way and perching him on a bench. I laugh, openly. She throws me a dirty look.

I'd been waiting in the station's cafe for well over an hour, happily reading the paper and too engrossed to notice when my lift finally arrived until he cleared his throat.

"Afternoon, Lamilia."

I looked up from over the top of inky page. A middle-aged man of around forty eight, with big eyebrows framing dull grey eyes, smiles at me. He tilts his hat at me in recognition. He is smartly dressed and cleanly shaven. I take an instant liking to him. Almost as soon as I see him I feel a light pulling on the right side of my chest. It's not unpleasant and i've felt it before. Many times. It's the connection between my people, how you know when your in the presence of another.

"Howdy." I grin from ear to ear, as I always do when meeting someone superior. "I've been looking forward to meeting you guys soooo much."

"Of course you have and I'd love to stay and buy you a cake but..." he looks around cautiously, "...We can't talk here."

I nod, eagerly.

"You ready to go then, sweetheart?"

I grab my bag, "Right away sir!"

"You're a good'n." He says, patting me on the shoulder.

I sit in the back of his black vintage car. The windows are tinted. So I gawk at my surroundings without much thought as to who can see me. We park up in a lay-by and the car screeches, violently, to a halt.

"Here Poppet.Get a look these goodies." He passes back a, rather lumpy, navy blue backpack.

I take it from him, pausing to give him a look of gratitude and then suddenly the car is cruising off again.
We’re not in London now, or at least, the landscape is rural so my guess would be we’re on the outskirts.
I focus on the bag in my arms. Big eyed with awe at the treats that wait to burst out.
In the main section is a beautifully embroidered cushion, a delicate glass sculpture rapped in crispy tissue paper and within a cardboard box are the most breath-taking heels I have ever laid eyes on. They are dangerously red in a disgraceful sort of way, but shiny and smooth like silk, their heels strike down from an immense height, each with a touch of floral femininity, flicking and flowing down in fruity colouring on a slither of ribbon. I remove my sandals and slip on their curvy bodies around my feet. They fit perfectly. The inside is soft and pillowy. It feels like my feet are resting in clouds. I’m not kidding.
In the front pouch I find a wad of cash and a new mobile. The famous blackberry XOXO, which I don’t even thinks due to be released for another year.
"Jeez, this is cool!"

He shrugs, nonchalantly.
"Sure is, Sweetcakes."
I wince at the name but smile none the less. "How long till we get to destination then?"

"Ten to fifteen minutes I'd guess."

"Seriously? That soon? We're still in the countryside."

"Who's to say you're staying in London, eh?"

"Well, I’ve never had to deal with this kind of disadvantage before!" I snap before whipping my hand to my mouth.

"We do things differently here." He's says in monotone.

"Look, I’m really sorry. Truly. Jet lags got me snappy I guess."

"I was kidding, sunflower!" He laughs at me in the wing mirror and then his face goes serious again. "But take my word for it 'it's very different."

I nod. {{i}i}Doubt it.

But when we did reach my home to be, I found he was right.

The drive was lined with tall, bushy beach trees- an expance of half a mile. The road or drive if you like, though I count it too big for that, lead to a mansion. A Mansion. My God. The wonder that rushed through me threw me off guard. Major FML.

"Holy shit!"

"You like it then?"

"God yes!"
I fumble with the handle in my rush to get out and see it in its full glory.
"Whoa!"

I lean into the car and grab my bag, pull it onto my shoulder and slam the door behind me. 
“How long am I staying?”

“Long enough.”

I change my weight from left to right foot and sigh with impatiance, "Can we go in now?"

He nods, cuts the engine and follows me up the grand marble stairs that leed to the mansion's magnificent door. I use the brass knocker probably harder than needed and a butler answers, stepping aside to let us in with a slight bow of the head.

Taking in this whole new concept is overwelming so I follow the butler in a dream. I can hear a soft breeze of Beethoven gently floating to my ears and echoing off the high walls. A chanderlier tinkles above me, heavy with diamonds. We come to a stretch of hall way, fixed with black-framed paintings and as my sandles pad along the red carpet I begin to feel self concience of my outfit.
 
I still can't beleive this is going to be my home. All my own. Just me in this big house- well thats an understatement actually. I wonder if i'll get lonley- not that i've ever been lonley before. Me, lonely? Never. It's just that it's so big, but then i guess i'll have staff. Or will I? Surley, they can't expect me to keep everything in order all by myself, can they? But then why would they suddenly give me such a privilage?

At the end of the hall, two corridors fork off majesticly in opposite directions. The butler motions to the right one and the three of us proceed past at least seven different closed doors all with a number written in golden lettering directly above where you might have put a post box. Finally we stop outside a red door marked twenty eight.

"Lamilia, sweetheart," the superior man smiles at me, "this is your suite. Welcome to high grange manor. I'll be your mentor for the next few months."

"Ohmigod! Thank you so much! I look forward to getting to know you!"

He squeezes my shoulder with fondness, "You can call me Spencer."

"Right." I nod enthusiastically.

Looking at the butler he says, "See that she's shown around won't you?"

"Yes sir."

Spencer disappears around the corner and the butler hands me a key which I slot into the door's lock and twist to open. Immediatly in front of the me is a brightly lit staircase. As I walk down, I see two red quilted double beds, a huge flat screen TV, a laptop (which sits on a wooden desk) and a fluffy looking sofa. Beyond are big open windows that cover a whole wall, through the windows I can see a balcony with garden chairs and a table. On the table is a extravagantly decorated fruit cocktail, but before I indulge I force myself to continue exploring, during which i find another three doors- one empty walk in wardrobe, a Bathroom complete with jucussi, jet shower and many other treats and the last door holds yet another walk in wardrobe. This wardrobe, however, is filled with beautiful designer clothes. I let my eyes wonder over the glossy styles. My heart pumps faster when I see a flitty red dress of silk and satin. Perfect with my new shoes. The butler, who'd been waiting at the top of the stairs, stands watching me in an ammused manor.

I scowl, "Get lost." I tell him.

He steps forward, "But madame, don't you want-"

"Didn't you here me? Get lost already!"

"You'll be the one lost if you don't have your map." He smirks, holding out a sheet of laminated paper.

I stride over, up the stairs and snatch it from his hands, "Thankyou." I snap.

"Enjoy your evening, dinners at seven and held in the South room but the Master Johnson wants you to dine with him at seven fifthteen in office six." He bows, before turning and walking out.

whatever.

After he's left, I return to the wardrobe, taking my time to smooth my hands over the soft material. I undress and disgarde my clothes on the floor in an unwanted heap. Before long, I'm posing and prancing without modesty in front of a mirror, the dress swishing just above my knees. It's tight but that only enhances my figure. With my back to my reflection I peer over my shoulder to appreciate the triangular jutting of the neckline, which leaves my back naked and sexy. I smile, then twist round to retreave my heels from the rucksack. I can't help but marvel at myself. Yes, I know- i'm up myself. I'm not going to deny it. You'll just have to deal with it.
I pull out my red lipstick to complete the look. Freakin' gorgeous.

The cocktail is refreshing, though I drink it too fast which gives me hiccups. I sit on a green metal chair, a garden of brightly coloured flowers 20 metres below me. I feel on top of the world. Right now, I rule the whole damn thing.

After sitting in silent thought for well over twenty minuets, my lack of sleep catches up with me and I trot inside, closing the glass doors behind me. Walking over to the nearest double bed I do an ungraceful and wary bellyflop onto it's bouncy mattress. Slightly drunk, I giggle at my clumpy fall and roll over into a ball, my knees drawn up to my chest. I sleep for an hour or so, still in my complete outfit- shoes and all.

When I wake up i'm groggy and stiff. The clock by my pilliowed head reads ten to seven. Shit.

In the bathroom I splash my face with cold water and do a quick makeover, flattening down my bed-head. Five to seven.
I grab the map and look for office six. Better take it with me.

After i've re-locked my suite I head through the winding corridors, following the map. I come to a wide staircase much like the first one and speed  to the bottom.

With seconds to spare, I clear my throat and knock on the door. Even outside the room I begin to feel a pull at my right chest. This guys the big fish.

The face that greets me appears to be open and welcoming. Scratches of age criss-cross his face but a steel gaze that tells me his age doesn't alter his willpower keeps me on edge.

"Take seat." He gestures to a leather swivel chair. "Enjoying the venue?"

"Very much so!"

"Glad to hear, you've come at a good time- we've just been re-verbished. "

"It's beautiful."

"Yes." He hands me a sheet of paper and pen. "If you could just fill this out, that would be great."

"Of course." I lean on the table between us and fill out the questions one by one.


                Student application form
Name:                                            Lamilia Jacobs
Age:                                              16
DOB:                                              19th July 1994
Place of birth:                                  Unknown (America?)
Catagory:                                        Viper
Number of completed assignments:  349
Number of failed assignments:          2
Current mission number:                  351
Last location:                                  New York
Terms:
In taking a place at 'High Grange Acadmey' you are expected to take responsibilty over your assigned jobs, remain in harmony with other attendies and parcipitate in the group activities requested.
I agree to terms, signed:  ...................

*Passports, new identites, weaponry and any other needs will be provided with conformation from superiors.*


After reading the terms, I stop, leaving my pen poised over the page and then looking up at Master Johnson I ask, "Acadmey?"

"Yes. High Grange is an undercover Acadmey. Not a school but it does have-" he adjusted himself on his seat, "-let me see; lessons, accomadation, teachers, other athorities and set rules. What makes it different from a common boarding school is that the pupils and most staff, of course, aren't actually human," he chuckled, "we also fund most of your lifestyle and rewards come in something much more that gold stars."

"But.."

"You thought it was you alone? No. We've currently got eight-hundred attendies, which may not seem like much but they come and go everyday. All types of teenage daemons like yourself."

"I see, and what does that mean for me?"

“You follow orders and your terms. Respect. Listen. Learn. Obey.”

I nodded slowly, thinking. “So, what is my task?”

He smiled, “Ah, yes. Your task.” He chuckled, “you’ll find out in time. Now, English laws demand that every child under the age of seventeen has to attend school or be educated in some way and although you will be pushed to the limit in your training here at High Grange, the authorities have blurred knoledge about us and therefore it still applies to you. You will be attending Springton High, a well thought of school in the center of London. Forty-five minuets by bus. Here's the details."

I took the envlope and breifly scanned the contense; bus pass, passport


                                                Chapter not completed





                                                chapter not completed