Chapter 1. My Parents Are SO Dead

"Listen to me, Perri. This is the fifth school you're going to and you will not leave it until you've graduated, you hear me?" my father's gravelly tones grate across the static-riddled line; I always thought my father's voice is like two rough rocks rubbing against each other. "Don't disappoint your mother and I again, you hear me?"

"Yes, Daddy," I say absently, trailing my fingers across the cold, black, wrought-iron grills. "I heard you."

"Let me talk to her, honey," I can hear Mom's voice say in the background.

"No, you'll just go weepy again," Daddy says, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. "You know she'll have to go through this sooner or later."

"But I never thought now!" Mom exclaims in defence. "Just let me talk to her, Gerard!"

"Oh, alright," he grumbles and there are the soft thumps of the cell phone being passed to another hand before my mother's soft, breathy voice comes on.

"Perri darling?" she says.

"Yes, Mom?" I say, not at all paying attention as I step back and tilt my head back to admire the masonry of the two pillars on either side of the gate; How did they manage to get rock so black and smooth until it is almost like staring into a still pool of water at night?

"Listen to me, darling," she says, proving Daddy right as her voice begins to take on the watery, gulping quality which always comes before she turns on the waterworks. "Whatever happens, don't be scared. I know exactly how you feel. Everything will work out in the end. Don't be scared, okay, dear?"

"She has the nerves of steel, to go strolling into a gang fight like that," I hear Daddy grunt in the background.

I sigh. "I didn't do that on purpose! I was- Oh, forget it. Yes, Mom. I won't be scared. Boarding school is still school, right? Anyway. How do I get in exactly?"

I look down either side of the dusty dirt road I was on. The shiny black rock wall stretches as far I can see on either side. No, this is the only way in. My gaze lingers at the spikes at the top of the walls, three metres up. They sure take security seriously around here.

"That, well," Mom seems to hesitate. "Oh, dear. I do hope they've changed the greeter."

"Probably not," Daddy chuckles. "I like the old guy. Has a sense of humour."

"You just like laughing at the reactions of the poor freshmen," she retorts. "And you even join in sometimes!"

"Uh, Mom?" I try to capture her attention once more, but it is too late.

My mother has a short attention span, though that will be putting it lightly. She had once decided to cook dinner - she hardly ever cooks and no wonder - before she decided to go shopping and the whole house nearly burned down. True enough, I hear the dial tone begin to play dulcetly in my ear. I sigh and snap my snazzy little cell phone shut and shove into my jeans pocket. Guess I'm on my own then. I examine the four-metre-by-four-metre marble proclamation of the school's name: Hildegard Endrita Lani Leigh Private High School (North America). The abbreviated term will read HELL Private High School. I snort, wondering if it is a sign of torture to come. I peer closer. I don't see any intercom or some form communication to the inside of what seems like an impenetrable prison. I walk closer, putting my head between the grills to get a closer look into the school. A tree-lined avenue leads the way deeper into the school and the strange thing is how it seems to get darker and darker as the avenue goes deeper into school grounds. Suddenly, a face pops up, barely five centimetres away from my nose. It is a hideous face; it has a blind blue eye covered by a milky film and the other is a deep, dark brown, staring at me with piercing intensity. Scars mar the face, dragging one side of the mouth down, and matted, stringy grey hair hangs in the face.

I open my mouth. Instead of screaming like any other normal kid will do, one of my infamous, huge sneeze erupts instead. I sneeze in the ghoulish face. Oh, my dear sweet lord. Is there no end to the trouble I'll get into? I stammer an apology, back-pedalling quickly. I think I got some snot on him. Shit. The gates begin to grind open as the man - yes, it's a human - wipes his face, disgruntled. I stand there by my luggage, blinking rapidly, as the gates groan and groan like an old man who has just returned from a five-minute jog-on-the-spot. Then it shudders to a halt and the gates stand wide open. The man straightens, eyeing me. I study him in return. I realise with a start that the scars and blinded eye and everything hideous about the face had disappeared. In fact, what stands before me now is a completely normal man. He must have been wearing a mask. Okay, scratch that. A man who wears a mask to scare new students can't be normal. He is also wearing an elegant silk – what I like to call – a penguin suit. You know the kind with the two flaps at the end? Yeah, exactly that.

"Periwinkle Green?" his voice has a certain strange quality to it.

It is as if he is somewhere far, far away and I can barely hear him. It is not as if he is talking very softly. He just seems very far away. I swear I can even hear an echo in it. What the hell? I shake my head. Maybe my ears are still affected from the flight before or something, though I am pretty sure the gum I had been chewing popped them hours ago.

"Um, yeah. I mean, yes!" I stammer nervously.

"Come along then," he says, gesturing for me to come in.

I grab my suitcase, sling my carry-all across my torso and have my duffel bag on my left shoulder. Then I scurry after him. I barely step across the threshold before the gates begin to close again. I glance back at them. They must be automated or something. There is definitely something ominous about the way the gates swing shut, resounding with a sonorous clang. I shudder and push the dark thought to the back of my mind. I follow the man down the middle of the avenue, dirt crunching beneath my feet. Only mine, I notice instantly, because he is barely making any noise at all. The trees seem to press in against us, so thickly they are growing, great mighty oaks with knotty trunks and sweeping branches. There are no lights whatsoever lining this avenue and it really gets darker as we walk on. I am just about to comment on the lack of light when the avenue quite abruptly. Just like that, the school campus is shoved into my sight. I gawp. It's ginormous, stretching as far as I can see. Great stone buildings sprawl across the grounds and luxurious green lawns roll out before the grand buildings. More of these great oaks grow in certain clusters on the ground, creating a sort of shadowy, dark effect on the whole place because it seems as if it is early evening here instead of mid-afternoon.

I look up and am startled to see that dark clouds have rolled in to cover the sun in the few minutes we took to walk in. I look around the campus, rooted to the spot. Students are all over, but I can't hear the usual chatter and noise such an assembly of teenagers are bound to raise. Instead, I hear quiet murmurings and polite laughter. Very curious. Then I notice with a strange sort of jolt to my stomach that all of them - yes, all of them - are devastatingly gorgeous. Supernaturally so. Even the biggest, most monstrously muscular guy emanates some sort of strange beauty and grace. My eyes follow a group of obvious jock-types across the lawn. They are all movie-star perfect. They join a group of tough-looking, athletic girls. All of them are blonde and disturbingly beautiful. Suddenly, as if they seem to sense my gaze, the group of them turns to face me. They stare at me. Then all of them bow to me, lowering their eyes in obvious respect.

"This way," the man says and I revert my gaze to see him walking to the left of the campus, leading the way towards a chapel.

I look back at the group, deeply disturbed to see the guys still bowing to me. They couldn't be bowing to the man because he is already several metres away by that time. As we walk on, I am even more unnerved to see more of the jock-type guys and girls bowing to me, some even with a dramatic flourish. What the effing hell?! I am about to open my mouth to ask the man something when I am, once more, distracted from my original intended action. The man had stopped in front of another guy. This new guy makes my jaw drop and thoughts about how some of the guys I have seen previously to be the hottest beings I have ever seen fly out of the window. The perfection, flawlessness and beauty of this guy can't be simply described in words. If I can show you a picture, I would because words simply fail to describe him. I can only tell you mundane details; he has hair the colour of the darkest night, with hints of blue and purple under light, and his eyes are the most intriguing amber. I didn't know eyes can be that colour. I am still reeling from the fact that my new school has so many perfect people, including the most perfect one of them all, when he speaks and I am speechless and gaping once more.

"Is she the new student?" he asks the man, his voice unlike any melody man has written.

I feel an indescribable desire wash through me, tingling at the base of my stomach and urging to go forth to touch him. I have never felt like this for any guy before. Never. He looks at me and I feel myself blushing, completely out of my control. A slight sneer curls his upper lip.

"A bit pudgy isn't she?" he says and I feel his words like a physical slap to my face.

It also has the effect of waking me up from the lustful haze that had overtaken my mind. I shrug off the coat of desire and narrow my eyes. He did not just call me fat.

"She's half troll," the man replies, shrugging.

"What?!" I just about shriek at him.

"Her parents haven't told her, I suppose," Mr. I'm-so-gorgeous-so-I-can-put-down-anybody-who-isn't sighs, ignoring me completely.

"Told me what?" I demand as the man shakes his head. "Hey, what the hell is going on here?"

"Hell," Big-Fat-Ego muses, slowly turning to face me. "How appropriate, Miss Green. Welcome to Hell High, where all your nightmares come true."

"And you're walking proof of it," I snap at him, even though my heart is racing a mile a minute when our eyes locked and my face is flushed and hot with desire.

He smiles and my heart beats harder, so hard I feel as if I'm having a heart attack. "Lying is useless on me. I can read your mind. You desire me. More intensely than you can ever know."

My eyes widen and my mouth fall open, but I can't say anything. Simply because it is true. It is just freaky the part when he says he can read my mind. Whose leg does he think he's pulling?

"I have to take her to her dorm mistress, Master Cad-fail," the man says, bowing slightly.

"What?" I say once more.

"It's spelled C-A-D-F-A-E-L," Stupid-head sighs. "It's certainly not Stupid-head. And just so you know, it isn't Big-Fat-Ego either."

My jaw falls lower if it is possible. He smirks at me.

"Yes, I can really read your thoughts," he says.

"Stop messing with my head!" I demand, flinging my duffel bag at him as a strange prickly hotness spread to all over my body. "Come on, man. Take me away from this asswipe."

The man obliges, with an expressionless face, as he continues to walk towards the chapel.

"Yes, Perri," Cadfael or Cat-shit or whatever calls after me mockingly. "We will certainly see each other again. Worry not!"

I feel the skin on my back crawl. He can't really read my mind... can he? No, it is impossible! How can he? How did he know then, my more suspicious half argues, that you are wondering rather pathetically when you're going to see him again? He must have guessed. He is extremely full of himself after all. I decide to push him out of my mind, though believe me when I say it's certainly a task. I single-mindedly follow the man. As we pass the chapel, I frown because I realise that it is not a chapel at all. It certainly looks like a chapel, with all the stained glass and everything, but there isn't a cross in front of it. Instead, there is a golden lock engraved across the grand double doors. It is extremely realistic. I notice two girls standing on either side of the doors, looking as if they are standing guard. They are also, expectedly, beautiful. One has silky dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail and eyes the colour of cut glass. The other has cropped short brown hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. Yet they also look unmistakeably similar. They look extremely tough and strong, as if they can snap your thigh bone into half with a carefully-aimed kick. They eye me as I pass. I smile, but they simply stare back. I quickly look away, perturbed.

The man leads me along a path through a grove of smaller trees, passing some more jocks who bow to me. It is really getting on my nerves. There is something really, really, really, really wrong with this school and I have a gnawing feeling I am not about to like it very much. We stop in front of a cream-coloured building with the name Aisling carved across the brown front door. There are a couple of other buildings clustered around here, with other names carved across the front door and painted other pastel colours. There are more girls than guys hanging around here, sitting on the stone benches or lying on the grass. They all turn to look at me curiously.

"This is your dorm," the man says, deadpan. "Go right in. I expect Miss Lilith to be waiting for you."

Then he turns and walks back the way we came, woodenly and not moving anything but his legs. I turn back to the dorm and start up the stairs, trying not to be distracted by the stares of the ethereally beautiful girls. I push open the door and into utter chaos. There are normal teenager girl stuff strewn all over the place, as well as smashed vases and shattered glass-covered pictures. I stare. A group of girls are walking down the stairs, chatting as if they barely notice the state of destruction of the place. They certainly notice me though and smile with unexpected warmth.

"She's dealing with Taranis, but she should be here soon," one of them, a redhead, says. "Oh and welcome to Hell High!"

"Um, thanks," I say and they are gone.

I shuffle deeper into the house, placing my suitcase and carry-all delicately in a spot where there is relatively less debris. I look around. The wooden side table is shattered into splinters and the flower pot which was on it is also in pieces. Dirt is everywhere and the poor plant is ripped into tiny, little shreds. I shake my head, wondering who had the wild party last night. Then a young woman in her late twenties comes hurrying down those stairs, wiping her hands on the apron around her tiny waist. She looks flustered with strands of honey-coloured hair escaping from her loose bun, and decidedly pretty in a completely natural way.

"You must be Periwinkle!" she says breathlessly, reminding me of my mother. "I'm so sorry for the state of the dorm! Taranis has had a temper tantrum again."

She walks over a door by what had been the side table and opens it. "Go on in!"

"Um, thanks," I say uncertainly as I pick up my things and walk in.

Her small office is impeccably neat and I feel at ease at once. One wall is completely covered with bookshelf after bookshelf of books and the other with a huge tack-board, holding every note and a gigantic calendar. There is incense burning in one corner, a musty, soothing smell and strangely enough a huge stone bowl filled with water on the top right-hand of the desk stacked with neat piles of paper. Lilith motions me to take a seat in the comfortable-looking, leather seats before the desk as she takes off her apron and hangs it on a coat-rack by the door. She takes her seat behind the desk and steeples her fingers on her desk before her.

"Now, let's get down to business," she says cheerfully. "I'm Lilith Talon. Call me Lilith. I'm your dorm mistress, meaning I'm in charge of your welfare as well as the other students in this dorm. I'm a certified counsellor so you may come to me with any problem you have! So, Periwinkle-"

"Um, can you please call me Perri? I hate being called Periwinkle," I say, fighting the urge to raise my hand.

"Alright then, Perri it is," she flashes a dazzling, ad-worthy smile at me. "So, I'm under the impression that your parents haven't told you yet?"

"Well," I say slowly with a flash of annoyance. "I won't know what they haven't told me if they haven't told me yet, right?"

"Yes, I'll expect so," she says with a laugh that sounds like delicate glasses tinkling against each other, standing. "I believe an explanation is in order."

She stands before the wide window behind her desk and spreads her arms apart. "Hildegard Endrita Lani Leigh Private High School of the Arts, or more commonly referred to as Hell High, is a school for magical creatures. Creatures humans have always dismissed as the stuff of children's stories. Vampires, werewolves, faeries, witches, trolls, so on and so forth. Our young study here. Here is also where the Gateway to Hell is and this the Amazons guard with their life. Your parents are also magical creatures, and so are you."

I just stare at her, not moving. I don't think I am even breathing, because while she is talking, she is lowering her arms. As she lowers her arms, the wings on her back become more apparent. They are like butterfly wings, colourful and delicate and I can see the light from outside right through it. I am reeling from this even more than I am when I first saw Cadfael. Obviously discovering that the woman before you is a faerie is much more startling than seeing the most perfect male specimen on earth. A faerie is standing before me. A faerie is standing before me. I think I'm going to barf. Lilith tucks her hair behind her ears to reveal ears with pointed tips, tapering up to a rather distinguished point. I swallow hard. Maybe I shouldn't have been so greedy as to get that third packet of peanuts on the plane. I am definitely regretting it now. Magical creatures... Magical creatures are real. Oh. My. God. My parents are magical creatures. Oh. My. Fucking. God. I'm going to puke. I swear I'm going to puke. I take a long, deep breath. Well, I know what I'm going to do first.

"Can I call my parents?" I ask, taking out my cell phone.

"Oh, no. Human electronics don't work here," she says. "But feel free to use the scrying bowl. I'm sure your parents have one too."

I am about to say that they don't and I would know because I've lived with them in that house for the past sixteen years when I remember the hideous grey bowl they have displayed in the foyer. The one they absolutely refuse to get rid off and is impossible for me to lift, even up by a centimetre. That is a scrying bowl, whatever a scrying bowl is. Well, damn. They really have been lying to me all my life. Oh, there is going to be hell to pay, I'll make sure of it. I stand. Lilith raises a hand above the bowl, which seems to have been filled with water in the short millisecond I have looked away from it, and says in her clear, bright tone, "The troll king's residence." It took a while before I really comprehended what she had said, but before I can make any sense of it, my parents appear on the rippling, crystal-clear surface of the water, looking utterly anxious and chagrined. Oh, so they do know the hell I am going to raise.

"Honey?" Mom ventures cautiously, peering up at me with worried baby-blue eyes.

"You guys..." I take a deep breath as she winces in preparation, "are SO dead! What the hell is going on here?! How can you guys do this to me?!"

"Well, she isn't scared, you can be reassured now," Daddy says wryly.

"Daddy," I say warningly, not caring if I sounded like a whiny, rich, bratty kid, because truthfully, that is what I have always been. "What are you guys then? What the hell am I?"

"I'm a troll," he admits proudly and in a strange little shiver, my father grows horns – long and curving from above his eyes – and wrinkled, tougher skin that sagged under his chin.

He grows thicker, stockier, and shorter. He raises his hands and I see a band of hard bone over his knuckles, a sort of natural weapon I suppose. He grins at me and reveals teeth as big and hideously arranged as tombstones in an old, overgrown graveyard. I blanch. My father is a troll.

"Oh my god," I moan, shaking my head and holding a hand to my forehead. "Please don't tell me you're a troll too, Mom. I certainly don't want to look like that."

"Hey!" Daddy growls defensively. "I happen to be considered very handsome."

"Then I'm afraid of what you term ugly," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"I happen to think your father's very handsome!" Mom tells me brightly and primly. "And I'm not a troll. I'm half-witch, half-human."

"Let me guess," I sigh, holding my head in my hands. "Grandma's the witch, right?"

Grandpa had always been muttering his breath cantankerously about what a witch his wife had been. I had always thought that he just didn't know that the word "bitch" is an acceptable word to be used in front of minors now, not that he really meant what he said: that Grandma is a witch. I should have guessed really. Even no amount of Botox or plastic surgery can enable Grandma to retain her youth so perfectly while her husband continues to descend into the throes of dementia. Isn't it really sad though? To see your husband age and die before you when you know when you're going to live much, much longer? No wonder Grandma always looks so melancholic and sad when she's around Grandpa. I just thought it was because she's depressed she's still married to such an old-looking guy. It just shows how shallow I am.

"Yes," Mom says, distracting me from my thoughts. "This means you also have witch blood in you, Perri! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Right," I say, lifting my head to give her the look she knows all too well. "I'm not going to transform into something like Daddy, am I?"

"You might," Daddy says, eager to cut in with some information on his species. "But we'll only know when you reach maturity."

"Maturity," I repeat with bleakly. "When's that?"

"When you're eighteen," he says. "Don't worry, it's still a few years more and we'll be with you all the way."

"Yes, just like how you've been lying to me all the way?" I say sharply, the pointed edge meant with all my heart.

My parents flinch simultaneously.

"We're sorry-" Mom starts to say, tears already brimming at the edge of her eyes.

"Save it," I interject. "Just one last question. Why do jocks keep bowing to me?"

"They must be trolls as well," Daddy says, attempting to look as if he is not about to cry himself. (I sigh inwardly, knowing that I could have been a bit more lenient on them.) "Honey, you know it's not as if we meant to lie to you all this time... It's just we wanted you to enjoy the human part of your life before you enter our world. We just want you to live your life to the fullest."

I rub my palms over my face. "Fine, Dad. Just tell me what being trolls have to do with bowing to me."

"I'm the King of the trolls," he says. "And as my daughter..."

"I'm a Princess," I finish his sentence, groaning. "Oh, just fantastic! I'm a Princess of a species of hideous monsters! That's just great! Any more things you'd like to tell me? Oh, like maybe I'm actually a boy or something? Huh?"

"Honey-" Daddy try again, a pained grimace on his face.

"No, Daddy. I'm not about to listen to anything you guys have to say at the moment," I rise to my feet and look fiercely at Lilith, who had been sitting at her desk looking through some papers and politely pretending she has not been listening all along. "How do you turn this thing off?"

"Darling!" Mom cry out. "We love you."

I press my lips together tightly as Lilith looks at me and at the bowl then back at me again. I repeat my request. Reluctantly, after biding my parents a respectful good-bye, she terminates the link between her scrying bowl and theirs.

"Shall I take you to your room now?" she asks, looking troubled.

"Wait," I say. "Just... what kind of monster am I rooming with?"

She looks uncomfortable. "Well... it was hard to find you a room on such short notice. It was only because your parents were so desperate that we had no choice..."

I raise my eyebrows.

"She's part-werewolf and part-witch. Witches are very temperamental to begin with... and werewolves are very hot-tempered so..."

"What's her name?" I blanch. "It doesn't happen to be... Taranis or something like that, right?"

"Why, yes!" she looks exceedingly surprised. "How did you know?"

"Oh my god," I swallow hard.

"Well, let me bring you to your room then," Lilith walks past me and opens the door to reveal a hallway completely different from the one I saw before. "Ah, I see that Marshall has cleared everything up."

I make for the table I was sure I left my stuff, only to discover that they were gone. I blink in surprise.

"Oh, Marshall must have sent that up for you," Lilith says carelessly as she gestures for me to follow her up the stairs.

"Who's this Marshall guy?" I ask as I follow her up the lushly-carpeted, broad, wooden stairs.

"The school servant," she reply as if he is not really someone worth mentioning at all.

The banister is smooth and varnished beneath my hand and I stare at the wall to the left, where there are thousands of pictures: candid shots, formal pictures and artistic pictures of the girls who must have lived here before. There certainly are many of them. I wonder just how big this other world is and just how they manage to stay hidden away from human detection. What exactly am I anyway? I mean, I feel perfectly human. There are not any horns bursting from my forehead and I don't seem to have any witch powers. It is not as if I feel any different than how I am feeling that day, when the two policemen tackled me to the ground and manhandled me into their car. In fact, if anything, I feel perfectly... helpless. I know what is going on. I am completely conscious of it, but there is just nothing I can do about it. I cannot possibly stop myself from being whatever I am, part-troll, quarter-witch and quarter-human, and I cannot stop my parents from being what they are. I will still love them anyway. I just hope my quarter-human triumphs over my troll part and I don't sprout horns.

The stairs we are climbing are not very long, but the floors seem to literally zoom past us. I already counted at least seven floors already, but I am not panting like I should be. It must be some kind of magic thing. After all, the building only looks three stories high outside. Lilith stops when she comes to the tenth floor, which must be the last floor because I can see the way the ceiling slants downwards. She turns to the right and I see four off-white doors. The very last one has been completely blown off its hinges. I gulp. I have a very bad feeling that is my room. I am right. Lilith stops in the doorway, looking at me apologetically. I am feeling very apologetic for myself indeed. The girl who awaits me in the room, however, is completely not I expected. She is standing in the middle, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as she fumes, glaring at me with overt hatred. She is petite and dainty - perfectly gorgeous of course - with bouncy, dark curls and big blue doe-like eyes. She looks like a china doll. This little thing is capable of temper tantrums of such catastrophic proportions?

"Taranis, this is Perri," Lilith introduces with a smile. "She's the room-mate I was talking about-"

"The troll princess?" she interrupts and her voice is so much like a little girl's, I find it hard to believe she is actually a monster. "You're the troll princess?"

"I'd rather not be, if I could have it my way," I retort stiffly, frowning.

She stares at me. Lilith clears her throat nervously.

"Um, Perri. I quite forgot to mention. Taranis's father is the werewolf alpha male, which means that he's sort of their king."

I stare at her, not getting where she is coming from.

"Werewolves and trolls have been enemies for as long as we can remember," Taranis says with a smirk. "You don't even know that?"

"Hey, as far as I am concern, I'm human and I don't care if you're a werewolf princess or whatever, don't you dare make this harder to cope with than it already is!" I snap, hating the snide tone she had used. "I mean, seriously, I only found out that my father's this monster and my mother's half-witch not five minutes ago. So yes, I don't know a thing or two, it's something called natural, Taranis."

Both Taranis and Lilith stare at me. I cross my arms defiantly. I don't care if Taranis is about to unleash her powers on me. Even better, maybe if she does and injured me grievously, my parents will come and get me away from this weird world of monsters. I brace myself. To my surprise and Lilith's obvious because she is wearing a grimace on her face, Taranis bursts into laughter. I stare at her as she bends over double, clutching her sides, as she laughs and laughs. Lilith and I exchange dumbfounded looks. We can only wait until she has finished laughing her fill.

"I like her!" Taranis sputters after she is done with her laughing fit. "I thought she is going to be some stuck-up Daddy's Little Girl. But she's funny! Nothing like I had expected at all."

"That's great!" Lilith looks relieved and elated. "I'll just leave the two of you to... chat and Taranis dear, can you please fix the door? Welcome to Hell High, Perri!"

Then she is gone in a blink. I scowl after her. Gee, thanks for leaving me with a temper-tantrum-prone werewolf/witch/princess girl. Then suddenly, there is a door in my face. I stumble backwards, turning around to see Taranis smiling broadly.

"You... fixed the door?" I ask.

"Yup!" she says cheerfully, turning around to point at the bed closest to the window. "Okay, so that's my bed. I really hate it when people touch my stuff, so even if it's messy and crosses over the line into your side of the room or whatever, don't touch it. And..."

I tune her out as I look around the room. It is fairly large, much larger than I expect. There are two fair-sized wardrobes against the wall occupied by an elegant, ostentatious vanity, which has the full works, even tassels. One of the wardrobes is open and I can see clothes stuffed into it messily and carelessly. A long desk, built for two, is right next to door and piled high with books and papers. I think there is even a light layer of dust over them. Over Taranis's bed, there are posters of... I think they are bands, werewolf bands or something. The bedside table between our beds has an alarm clock, purse, lamp and more books and papers balanced precariously on it. My luggage is at the foot of my bed, thanks to the mysterious Marshall. Taranis sits down on her bed, her legs crossed Indian-style. I sit down my bed cautiously, feeling as if I expect something uncanny to appear from my bed too.

"So," I say, looking at her. "When did you find out you're... a werewolf?"

"I've known all my life," she says, looking surprised. "You don't think that all of us were raised as humans to begin with, do you? Oh no! I've known what I am for as long as I can remember. That's another thing I hate about trolls. They're so wishy-washy. I mean, your parents should have exposed to you our world the moment you were born. To pretend to be a human... it must have been horrible."

"I already told you," I say patiently. "I'm human as far as I'm concerned. I don't really know what it means to be troll or witch or whatever."

She frowns, obviously confounded.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," I say. "So why are trolls and werewolves enemies?"

"It's all because of some ancient feud," Taranis waves her hand airily. "I think it was over food or something. I'm not exactly sure. Or was it over living space? Can't be sure. Doesn't matter anyway. Trolls are still gigantic, clumsy, stinky oafs. You should tell them to take a bath every now and then. No offence meant to you."

I laugh. Taranis is completely what I had not expected.

"You know what, I think we're going to be good friends," I say with a sly smirk. "Imagine all the havoc we can cause..."

"My thoughts exactly, my dear troll princess," she says with a devilish giggle as we share a conspiring look.

AN: I made a very slight alteration in this chapter, pertaining to the age trolls reach maturity. It's eighteen now, not twenty. Please review, people. This story is one of my favourites. (: I just want to know if people enjoy reading it as much as I like writing it. Or if you know how I can improve my writing in any way, feel free to share! Thanks for reading! (: