Princess of the Damned

Serephena

The war between immortals and humans had been raging since before I was even a thought. The bloodshed and death culminating underground while the unknowing society lived on in apparent peace. Unknown to the public, immortals lived among them in disguise, thriving as the war came to its peak. The reason being, a teenage girl, daughter of the late queen of the damned world, me, Tiffany Marie Scott.

-----

“Tiff, get up!” these were the first words I heard on the last day before winter break courtesy of my mother, Linda Scott. “Now!”

Mornings are the worst part of the day, especially for someone of my social status. According to the queen of my high school, Miranda Grey, I am worse than the dirt under her shoes and all her so called friends, secretly dubbed ‘The Dolls’, gladly agree. You see, The Dolls and their pets, the entire jock nation, take unusual care in reminding me every day of how unwanted I am.

“Tiffany you’re going to be late again, get up!” my mother pounded on my bedroom door once again.

Sadly the grogginess finally faded as I climbed out of bed and shuffled to my mirror. I flicked my lamp on to get my mom off my back and stared at myself in the mirror.

“Good morning,” I grumbled to my reflection. Yeah, great morning in fact, how about another lovely day of ridicule because you like rock music and wear black. Oh well.

Although one might think I hate school because of The Dolls I actually find peace in showing up every day in my favorite dark outfits. It pleases me that every time Miranda sets her perfect crystal blue eyes on me she gets angry because I have not dropped off the face of the earth to please her.

Today I decided to go with one of my darker outfits. I pulled on a fishnet shirt, a tighter black baby t-shirt over top with my favorite symbol- the skull and cross swords also known as the Jolly Roger. I then pulled on my favorite black khakis with my prided belt chain and studded belt. Make up wise I added heavy eyeliner to my gray eyes and pulled my dark brown hair away from my face with a sparkly skull pin, letting my bangs fall over my eyes.

“Couldn’t be more perfect,” I grabbed my bag, more or less ready for another long day at school.

-----

“It’s about time you decided to show up,” my boss, and snarky older step-brother, Benjamin Mason, called from the kitchens of the restaurant I work at.

Conveniently my step-father, before he died that is, owned this little Italian place and handed it over to my mother after he snuffed it. Since my mother is not smart enough to add two and two together let alone run a business, she handed it over to my twenty-two year old step-brother Ben, fresh out of his last year of business school. I was then forced into a waitress job the second I turned eighteen and now I cam mix margaritas better than I can get my Algebra homework done.

As usual I flipped him off and grabbed my waiting apron. Almost instantly the customers swarmed to the bar as soon as I opened up shop.

“It pays to be on time,” Ben smirked as he walked past, his arms full of steaming entrees.

I fought the temptation to stick my foot out as he past and rested my arms on the bar in front of me, “Fuck you, Ben, I had a long enough day without your bitching.”

He flashed a perfect white smile at me over his shoulder, the amusement clear in his dark blue eyes. The eyes my mother seemed to love more than me. You see, my mother and I are complete polar opposites. She’s short, blonde and quite frankly, a pain in the ass. I, however, am dark, tall and smart. Ben thinks he’s superior to us because he owns this place, which happens to be one of the best Italian restaurants in this part of the city, might I add.

To make matters even worse, Miranda and her groupies strutted through the front door, all taking a seat in front of me at the bar. I could feel her sizing me up as I stood in front of her, my arms crossed over my chest. She pursed her overly plumped, glittering lips and leaned forward on the bar.

“Why don’t you stop staring at me and fix my friends a couple drinks,” she said in her fake, nasally voice.

I raised my eyebrows at her and didn’t move, “Sorry, but I’m not permitted to serve alcohol to minors.”

To my immense satisfaction her jaw dropped and her little groupies all stared at her, waiting for her to shoot me down. For those glorious five seconds before she recomposed herself I basked in the glory of telling off the most popular girl in school.

“You obviously don’t know the value of my family name then. I’ll have you know my father owns the entire empire that is Grey and Duke Law. Now I don’t care how much you think you can turn me away with such attitude… and hideous fashion, but I can get this place shut down with the snap of a finger. Now get me and my friends some drinks.”

I let Miranda’s audience giggle and titter for a moment, pretending they were getting to me before I leaned my elbows on the bar and glared her in the face. “I don’t give a fuck who your father is. According to law I am not allowed to serve or sell alcohol to anyone under the age of twenty-one. Now if you have a problem with that you can take it up with the NYPD after they arrest your fake ass.”

Just as I thought I had won the argument my beloved step- brother decided to make an appearance. He flashed another perfect smile at Miranda before draping his arm around my shoulders, resting his free hand on the counter.

“Baby sister, do we have a problem?”

Miranda let out a high-pitched giggle before I could answer him, her eyes in Ben. “Oh no, not at all. We’re just swapping stories. We go to school together.”

Ben squeezed my shoulder, his smile only reaching his eyes. I could tell he was not convinced and returned my gaze to a still giggling Miranda.

“Have a good night, then,” he nodded, brushing his ebony bangs from his face and moving back into the kitchen.

The very moment Ben was gone Miranda’s tone instantly changed. Her flirty, bubbly nature melted away and she got to her feet, her stylish high-heeled boots clicking on the floor. She turned her cold gaze on me with that familiar, disgusted look.

“That gorgeous god of a man is your brother?” she asked with a pained expression.

I crossed my arms over my chest again and tapped my foot in obvious irritation, “He’s my step-brother, no blood relation.”

A look of relief spread across Miranda’s face and I could feel the vomit churning in the pit of my stomach as I watched her pull out a pen and jot down her number on a coaster. She licked her lip and slid it across the bar.

“Have him call me,” she whispered before moving to the door.

I scoffed and moved to one of the candles flickering on the end of the counter. Miranda glanced at me before she left the restaurant and I grinned, dropping the coaster in the candle and waved with a forced smile.

She gaped at me for a split second before pursing her lips in anger and stomping from the restaurant, her fawning followers right behind her. I shook my head at them and returned to my work, knowing I was going to hear it from Ben later.

-----

The snow began to fall only a few minutes into my journey home after work, the cold getting into every exposed pore and stitch of my jacket. To make matters worse I could have sworn someone was following me for at least the past three blocks I had walked from the restaurant. Ben may be a charming guy but when it comes to being a caring brother you would not be able to get him to even give his younger step-sister a ride home.

Anyway, this guy following me kept a good distance so I could not see his face, but I knew he was on my tail. Paranoia is one of the many flaws in my nature. From people looking at me to who’s standing outside my bedroom door, I worry about it all. It may not be persistent, but its always pushed to the back of my mind. Unlike now, however, this guy just picked up his pace following me closer down one of the shortcuts to my home.

“Excuse me, miss!” he called, his voice muffled by the wind.

I had begun jogging to get away and clearly he was not about to let me. Stupid me slowed down letting him catch up and he held out a gloved hand, my clip in his palm.

“You dropped this,” he smiled.

I took the clip and looked up into his face. He was gorgeous, almost unnaturally perfect. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, perfect against his pale skin. He had shaggy black hair, falling perfectly in his eyes, not to mention his dazzling smile, a slight hint of a five o’clock shadow along his jaw.

“T-Thanks,” I stuttered, unsure if it was the biting cold or his presence making my teeth chatter.

“My name is William, by the way,” he added.

I forced a smile despite my lips being frozen and waited for some spark of conversation. He’s waiting for you to introduce yourself, stupid. Woops, my bad.

“Oh, I’m Tiffany, sorry.”

William chuckled and shifted, his eyes moving over my shoulder, “You look frozen. If you would like I will make you some coffee at my place, it’s just around the corner.”

No matter how much I wanted to I was kind of creeped out by the whole situation and forced myself to deny his request. Instead I insisted I had to get home. He seemed to understand and let me move past him before I felt his hand grab my arm. Before I knew it I was being pulled into a musty, rundown room off the alley. William pressed his hand over my mouth before I could scream and he leaned close to my face.

“You become what you were destined to be tonight, my princess. After tonight you will be the true peace bearer of your race.”

The last thing I felt before I fainted was a sharp pain on my throat and his cold hands resting on my shoulders just before I went limp.