"Fifi?", I hear a soft voice say and I snap back.

Looking at her she seemed worried. How couldn't she be? I think I stood there for a good minute or two just staring in front of me. Scratching my head I began to think about what to do next. I tried taking another step but it felt like there was a 100 kg stone weighing it down, it felt gruelling. Nevertheless I continued trying. One step after the other I began to pick up speed and when I got to the front porch I was running at that point. Swinging the door open revealed what I feared would be there.

"There you are.", said Mrs Welsh while sitting on the green chair in the living room.

I was so used to seeing Steve sitting in that chair it felt weird to me seeing someone else sitting in it, especially her. She got up. Took her notebook. I took a deep breath. Fifi, we're leaving, just say it. Just say it so I don't have to stand there like a fool again. She fixed her glasses on that slim nose of hers, like she was the smartest person on earth. All of a sudden I realised how careless I have become. My hair was longer than usual, it would always cut it short to make sure it wouldn't get in the way or become messy after a long drive back, I always kept my bag somewhat packed, I was always prepared. So I just stood there, totally dumbfounded. 

"The judge scheduled a visitation with you and your mother."

"What?"

"She's doing better. I'll be here to pick you up in december..."

Steve and Lyana smiled at me as Mrs Welsh continued talking but it all felt like a blur at that point. I expected everything and anything, but not this. She's doing better? My mom? Last time I heard she apparently had a relapse and almost died again. When even was that? How long has it been? Six months? Maybe ten? At that point I wasn't sure if she was even my mother anymore. I didn't see her in that long and now she was doing better?

I glanced at the front door, Nathalie was just standing there staring at me. So was Philip, leaning on the archway to the kitchen. Everyone was, they were waiting for me to react, to say something, anything. Fifi, you'll see your mom, say something! I could basically hear thoes words from them.

The only thing I could mutter was: "Cool."

Soon there after I walked upstairs and closed the bedroom door behind me. The silence in the somewhat empty room was deafening. Over the days the papers started to pile up on my desk and my clothes scattered across the floor.

I slowly sat down on the cold wooden floor, my back pressed against the door. Everything that night felt like so much but also like nothing at all. I just wished I had some superpower that would allow me to stop time for a brief moment. Let me breath, let me think straight for a second. But I couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to take a break it seemed like I was forced to press on.

The next morning I threw on some clothes and immediately as I walked downstairs the atmosphere felt... suffocating. Walking in the kitchen revealed even more of the sudden tension. Lyana was cleaning the kitchen like her live depended on it as Steve was sitting at the breakfast table looking at her scrubing away at the cabinets, not even paying attention to the newspaper in his hands.

"Can you believe she called my kitchen dirty?", she called out.

Steve nodded and smiled as he noticed me: "Yes, honey. I was there."

"Dirty! That woman is getting on my last nerve! I'm telling you, if Fifi-", Lyana cut herself off as she noticed me.

The silence between us said enough. I didn't want to even know where she was going with that. I just quickly tried to change the topic: "Where's Philip?"

She awkwardly smiled, clearly realising she slipped up. Thankfully Steve took over before this could get anymore awkward. "He's in the backyard with Rudoslav."

Rudoslav. Glad to hear he was still alive, although he probably didn't remember much from last night.

"Cool.", I mumbled.

Another moment of silence which just made me wondered how bad the visit from Mrs Welsh could have gone to make them so tense.

Suddenly Lyana spoke: "Good to hear you're getting along with Nathalie. Maybe you could hang out with her some more."

Right. They saw Nathalie last night shortly before she left. Lyana's comment seemed useless at first but it did give me an idea, one that could get me out of there. "Do you guys know where she lives?"

Lyana and Steve looked at each other. She quickly smiled, probably trying to resist asking why I wanted to know: "Straight north from here. You couldn't miss her home even if you tried."

"Great! I'm gonna go there... now!"

"Now?", I could hear her reluctance but it was too late for that, I was already halfway to the front door.

I walked out and immediately noticed Rudoslav's bike laying on the grass. I guessed he wouldn't mind if I borrowed it for a couple of hours. Should have hooked it up to something if he didn't want it to get taken. I hopped on and quickly rode off. Like Lyana said I went straight north from Philip's house. The stone road ended after a few minutes and I rode on a dirt path through some woods. After another couple of minutes I began to get nervous that I might have gotten lost or something but as a stone road began to the right I noticed a stone sigh. "The North residence". Bingo.

I swirled and as I arrived I came to the realisation that her house wasn't a house, it was more of a mansion. It was bigger than our school, which doesn't say much but I don't have a better comparison. The white walls just made the light blue accents pop. I jumped off of Rudoslav's bike and placed it on the stone stairs leading to the front entrance. The massive blue door made me feel like an ant. Ringing the doorbell just made me unsure if anyone would even hear it in that palace.

After a few seconds someone opened it. It was a butler looking old man.

"Um... is Nathalie home?", I smiled, trying my best to pretend like I belonged there.

He looked at me for a moment before stepping back and holding the door open for me. As I walked inside it was like stepping into another world. A massive entrance room with two grand staircases that connected with a silver chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. The light from the windows above bounced off the small diamonds hanging from it. Lighting the room like a small disco ball. A maid was taking out some barely dead flowers out of a vase. The butler immediately offered taking my jacket, which I declined. He smiled at me, almost like he knew me.

"Would you like me to take you to her?"

Before I could say anything else a brief, but commanding voice gained my full attention: "Fifi? What are you doing here?"

Nathalie quickly walked down the stairs, although clearly in a rush in my head I still couldn't stop myself from comparing her to a princess at that moment. She certainly carried herself like one.

I just smiled and whistled: "I knew you were rich, but I didn't know you were that rich!"

My voice echoed through the grand room as she stopped in front of me. A suspicious yet curious look on her face.

"Lady Nathalie, your father would like to speak to you."

"Lady Nathalie? How classy are you people?", I laughed, leaning my arm on her shoulder.

They both looked at me.

"Wait, are you actually a lady?"

She didn't answer me, just looked over to her butler and stated: "Henry, would you mind taking Fifi to my room?"

"Not at all."

Before I could even follow him footsteps came down the hall, which seemed to stop everyone in their tracks, almost like the mere presence of the shoe tapping froze time. The low, almost threating voice echoed through the halls: "That won't be necessary."

Nathalie immediately took a step away from me, making me almost lose balance as my arm fell from her shoulder. The middle aged man walking up to us almost made me flinch, not because of how he looked, but from how he carried himself. Unlike Nathalie his stance wasn't conifident, it was assertive, just taking a glance at him you would immediately recognise he was the man of the house.

"Father."

Oh, that was her father? Now that I looked at it they both looked pretty similar. Same grey eyes, blond hair, everything. His eyes glanced over at me before staring back at Nathalie. How she could even breath when he looked at her with that suffocating glare was a mystery to me.

"Who's this... guest?"

He glared at me like I was some intruder, well at least he didn't know that. She nervously smiled and noted: "Fifi. She's a friend from school. I'm helping her work on a news story for the paper."

There was a moment of silence between them, like she waited for him to say something, like she was afraid to accidentally interrupt him. She started playing a little with her fingers as her father said: "The city girl... Henry, take our guest to my study. Nathalie, come with me."

Nathalie looked over at me, as she was about to walk away with her father she whispered: "I'll be right back."

As he turned around to leave he glared at me once again, it felt like he was looking right into my soul. Henry didn't make me stand there for long. Immediately as they walked away he walked me to Mr North's study. As expected it was big and full of bookshelves. In the middle of the room were two white couches and a coffee table. The massive glass windows at the end of the room engulfed the study in bright sunlight.

As I was considering if I wanted to sit on the clean white couch the door opened once again, at first I thought that it might have been Nathalie and that she had the quickest chat with a father possible. But it was the maid from before, she gave me a friendly smile and walked over to a bookshelf. She took out some books and carefully placed them on the coffee table.

"I'm guessing you're the rebel girl Nathalie was talking about."

I didn't know what I should have been more suprised from, the fact Nathalie called me a rebel or that she apparently talked about me. In responds I just shrugged, not really sure how to be polite, or how to behave in that place.

"She prepared these books for you. If you need anything else I'm out in the hall.", she smiled and, after I thanked her, quickly left.

I looked over at the pile of books left on the coffee table. There were five of them and pretty thick too. I decided not to sit on the clean couches and instead sat down on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

The book on the top barely moved when I tried to take it off the pile, I really had to flex my muscles to take it off and open it. Inside it, it somehow looked even older than on the outside. The text was really small, written in a barely readable font, the yellowish colour of the pages didn't help. 

Suddenly the double door swung opened and Nathlie stormed in, clearly unhappy about me being there, on the floor nonetheless.

"Did you came here to chill too?", her voice snapped in frustration. 

I gestured to the book in front of me. She sighed, all of a sudden the anger that was once present on her face had disappeared, only leaving a tired expression behind.

She rubbed her forehead and sighed: "Sorry, I'm just... you could have asked."

"I also don't want to be at the Evermores right now.", I began trying to read again.

She stayed silent, but I could feel her looking at me. She didn't know why I didn't want to be there, but she also didn't ask. She just sat down next to me on the floor and had a look at the book on the coffee table.

"I tried reading it before but...", she quickly took out a pair of silver glasses and put them on before finishing: "...even I struggled a bit."

I just stared at her for a moment as she tried reading the page, she noticed and looked at me again.

"You wear glasses?", I asked.

"Has your view of me suddenly changed?", she mocked.

"I don’t know. This might be a deal breaker for me."

She just rolled her eyes, but also smiled to herself as she looked back at the book. That girl was easily entertained. She flipped through the book and stopped at a page with a smiliar symbol.

"My father said this is one of many symbols that revolve around withcraft.", Nathalie explained.

There was one small word written above the symbol: Undead.