Chapter 4: Bastards of Young
Rosalie held on for dear life as Carrie neared the entrance to Angelus Rosedale Cemetery on her KTM. As Carrie had suspected the main entrance was blocked off with security cars and a crowd of heartless reporters and paparazzi who wanted entrance into the cemetery to witness Blake White's funeral. Carrie rode right past the entrance and headed for the back of the cemetery.
The back of the cemetery didn't have the iron barred fence that most of the cemetery was surrounded by and instead had a chain link fence. Carrie parked her purple, black, and silver KTM behind a tree with a nice thick trunk and grabbed a few fallen branches to put on top of her bike in order to camouflage it. The witch looked at her hidden bike and nodded at her handiwork before motioning for Rosalie to follow her. Carrie snuck along the fence until she began to peel back one section of the chain link fence that had already been cut by someone. Carrie grinned at Rosalie radiantly as she silently made her way through the fence and onto the cemetery grounds.
Eyes wide, Rosalie took a deep breath and also made her way through the fence. From what Rosalie could see, Rosedale Cemetery was a mixture of ancient headstones and modern ones. There were maples, oaks and birch decorating the perimeter as well as tropical palm trees. Rosalie spotted elaborate grave markers: a stone angel praying above one grave, a life-size stone woman crying on a headstone which read: 'Albert Kercheval, 1829-1893', and a tiny angel seated on a grave.
Carrie was wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt with the pattern of purple roses and thorns on it. Her usual pentagram necklace dangled from her neck as she moved confidently through the headstones, heading for where Blake White was to be buried. "Celebrities segregated in life, united in death." Carrie muttered to herself softly.
There was a private crypt for someone named 'Joseph Maier', and a pyramid shaped crypt with the words 'Shatto' on it above its small entrance door. The cemetery had a spooky, ancient feel even though one could see skyscrapers in the distance. Rosalie almost stepped on a flat grave marker, which read: 'Wife and Mother, Mary L. Chinn, 1903-1952'. Below the name was a tiny round portrait of the woman.
As she silently followed Carrie through the graves and headstones, Rosalie couldn't get over how easily they had made it past security and into the cemetery. Carrie pulled Rosalie behind a tree suddenly and they peeked out from behind the tree to see a small crowd of people dressed in black several meters ahead of them. They were surrounding an open grave. The casket was nowhere to be seen and the girls figured that it had already been lowered inside of the grave. A priest was present making a speech while some of the cemetery workers began to shovel dirt into the hole.
Carrie whipped out a pair of binoculars and began to eye the gathered crowd, or as she liked to think of them: 'the suspects'.
The Goth witch noticed Blake's band mate Devon Decayn and Blake's girlfriend Sadie Skellington first. Devon was dressed all in black with a short leather jacket, t-shirt, leather pants and boots. There were dark circles under his dry eyes. Carrie also noted that he wore an emotionless expression on his face - stoic, unfeeling, neutral. This caused Carrie to frown thoughtfully as she turned her attention to Sadie.
Sadie was dressed in a black, knee-length dress. She was also wearing a pair of fishnet stockings and high-heeled shoes. She had on a stylish, black fascinator on the side of her head that had a veil. The female rockstar was crying softly when her crying suddenly upped in volume and she turned to fling herself onto Devon's chest. She then began to cry onto Devon's chest and clutched at his t-shirt.
Devon continued to wear his stoic expression and hesitated before slowly raising his hand and putting it on her back. A few moments later he was wrapping both of his arms around Sadie's trembling back to comfort her and hugged her close.
"Tsk." Carrie tsked to herself. "Well, would you look at that. Blake's only been dead for a few days and Sadie is already on the prowl. And Devon doesn't seem to mind?he's already comforting Blake's girlfriend over his death. What a smooth operator. Take a look for yourself." Carrie said as she handed Rosalie the binoculars.
Rosalie put the binoculars to her eyes and saw Devon hugging Sadie while she cried dramatically onto his chest. Devon's expression seemed aloof and his eyes were dry. Rosalie's jaw dropped. Devon was supposed to be Blake's best friend! His cool demeanor surprised Rosalie greatly.
Sadie suddenly wrapped her arms around Devon and buried her face more deeply onto Devon's chest. Come on Devon?push her away. Rosalie thought but instead Devon began to pat Sadie's head. Don't betray Blake like this?
There was something fishy about this scene, but Rosalie couldn't quite put her finger on it. Presently Devon - Blake's best friend and Sadie - Blake's girlfriend - were hugging each other but?if one of them had killed Blake the real question was: why? What did they have to gain? The blood drained from Rosalie's face as she thought: Each other?
Rosalie noticed an elderly yet still handsome man in his late 60s next. The man was incredibly well dressed in a black, pinstriped suit and a cravat with a sparkling diamond pin in it. Small diamond stud earrings could be seen glittering in his ears. A black Stetson sat on his head. The man tucked a strand of his chin-length white hair behind his ear and stroked his neatly trimmed beard. Rosalie figured he was some rich celebrity, perhaps an actor. Stetson was dabbing at his sharp, gray eyes with a handkerchief as he cried openly. His sadness appeared to be sincere. He was grieving over Blake's death. Rosalie would have thought this man was Blake's father if it weren't for the fact that she knew that Blake's mother and father were already dead.
"Carrie?who is that elder gentleman with the white hair, diamond earrings and cowboy hat?" Rosalie asked as she handed Carrie the binoculars.
Carrie took the binoculars and peered through them at the old man dressed in the expensive designer suit and recognized him easily. "Ah, that's Mr. William Wraythe -CEO of Wraythe Records and Blake's legal guardian. Mr. Wraythe was best friends with Blake's father. Blake's parents were celebrities, you know. His father, Atlas White, was an actor and his mother, Pearl White, a singer. Mr. Wraythe was their boss as well as their friend. He later became Blake's boss and mentor. From what I heard though Mr. Wraythe considered Blake like a son and I think Blake felt that Mr. Wraythe was like a second father to him." Carrie stroked her chin in thought. "I don't see what Mr. Wraythe would gain from Blake's death?although Michael Jackson sold more of his songs on iTunes after he died than when he was alive."
"He didn't do it." Came a voice so chilling it seemed to freeze the air around Rosalie and Carrie causing the two girls to shiver.
Rosalie spun towards the sound of the voice and spotted Blake standing next to Carrie. "Ack!" Rosalie muttered a curse as she jumped. Rosalie slapped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming: 'Blake!'
Carrie noticed Rosalie's odd behavior and how she had turned pale. The gloomy girl was also looking at the space just next to Carrie intently as if someone were standing next to her.
Little tingles of excitement went up and down the witch's arms. Blake White was probably standing right next to her. "He's here, isn't he? Blake White. He's standing right next to me, isn't he?" Carrie's dark brown eyes sparkled.
Rosalie nodded, eyes wide and fearful.
"Wicked." Carrie grinned. "Well, what is he saying, girl?" The Goth prodded impatiently.
Rosalie removed her trembling hands from her mouth. "He said Mr. Wraythe didn't do it."
Carrie hummed thoughtfully and shrugged. "Well, we'll see if Blake is right. Everyone here at Blake's funeral is a murder suspect. For all we know Mr. Wraythe could have killed Blake. He's equally guilty until proven innocent, in my opinion."
Angry fires blazed in Blake's lavender colored eyes. He was pissed that Carrie thought Mr. Wraythe could have possibly killed him. Mr. Wraythe was like a second father to him. If he trusted anyone it was Mr. Wraythe!
Out of the corner of his eye, Blake noticed his so-called 'best friend' Devon getting cozy wit
h his girlfriend Sadie?
He was angrier at Devon than Sadie though. He didn't really feel anything for Sadie to begin with. Sure she was cute, good in bed, and the lead singer of a rival heavy metal band - The Necromancers. She had approached Blake first. Blake hadn't thought there was anything really special about her and thought of Sadie as he did most of the girls in the music industry - as a slutty, gold digger. Blake didn't have any interest in anyone but himself.
This had led to some strange rumors that Blake might be gay, however, and even emotionally involved with one of his fellow band mates. Per his manager's suggestion, Blake had decided to go out with Sadie to put these distasteful rumors to rest. It had been a purely strategic relationship with both Blake and Sadie benefiting from the arrangement. If he truly cared about Sadie he would have been feeling jealous or heartbroken, but he felt nothing about Sadie's shameless behavior. He just felt cold inside.
Blake had never had much interest in women anyways. They all seemed 'the same' to him. They were simply uninteresting. He was more concerned with himself. Women were a dime a dozen. All of them had been ready to throw themselves at Blake because of his good looks, money, and fame. And they would leave him as soon as a bigger fish came along?
Devon wasn't crying and didn't look particularly sad - just bored! Blake's eyes widened when Devon let out a yawn! Now that hurt?!
"Devon, you jerk?" A fierce, angry aura flared up around Blake.
Epp! Rosalie watched the angry ghost in fear and could see his powerful, blazing aura. She could guess why Blake was angry and figured it had something to do with the hugging couple. Rosalie shook her head at Sadie. That girl was acting so shameless!
Carrie handed Rosalie back the binoculars, and the medium spotted the blonde-haired bass guitarist Joey Bones next. He was dressed in a black suit and had a pair of black wayfarers on his face. He was sniffling and looked as though he was holding back his tears which Rosalie thought was strange. If Joey was feeling sad why didn't he just let himself go and cry at his friend's funeral? Why was he holding his emotions back to appear unaffected? That didn't make much sense unless perhaps?he was feeling guilty?
Standing next to Joey, was Erotic Corpses' drummer - Vincent Sangre, who was trying to comfort the young man it seemed with a hand on Joey's shoulder. But even this behavior seemed slightly cold and Vincent didn't appear to be crying or affected by the funeral proceedings. Vincent was dressed in a black suit, had a red cravat on and had his signature round yellow sunglasses on his face. His long, red hair had been tied back into a tight ponytail with a black bow.
"What do you know about the blonde bass guitarist?" Rosalie asked Carrie softly.
Before Carrie could respond Blake did and the witch could tell by Rosalie's expression that Blake was speaking. "He's my band mate, Joey Bones. He wouldn't hurt a fly. And he's an idiot. He could never plan something as complex as a murder." Blake explained to Rosalie with a snort. "The guy burst into tears while watching Titanic?I can't believe he's not crying right now actually?"
Blake had just called Joey an idiot but there had been unmistakable affection in Blake's voice. Rosalie also noticed how Blake's expression softened as he continued to look at the other young man.
"Hey! What's he saying?" Carrie asked with a pout, feeling left out.
"Blake told me that his band mate, Joey Bones, wouldn't hurt a fly." Rosalie explained.
"Pfft." Carrie snorted. "I could have told you that. Joey has a reputation for being the softhearted one of the band. The one with the red hair is Vincent Sangre - he's Erotic Corpses' drummer. Joey looks innocent enough but I don't know much about Vincent?"
"He's a pervert." Blake put in.
Rosalie blushed.
Carrie gave Rosalie a curious look upon seeing her blush. "What did he say?"
"That?Vincent is a pervert." Rosalie said in an awkward manner.
Carrie began to laugh. "Ah, well, I did hear the rumors that Vincent is a womanizer."
Blake shook his head. "It's worse than that?Vincent seduces women and treats them like playthings. Once he gets bored of them he tosses them aside. He never goes out with a girl for more than one month." Blake revealed.
Rosalie gasped. "That's awful. How cruel." Rosalie quickly told Carrie what Blake had told her. Carrie's expression turned oddly disappointed at the news.
Rosalie's glasses slid down her nose for a moment and her eyes widened as she caught sight of several transparent figures approaching her from the nearby graves. ACK! Rosalie froze in shock and horror. This is why she was always so careful not to make eye contact with ghosts because once they realized that Rosalie could see them they would follow her and torment her - sometimes for days before they'd finally give up and leave Rosalie alone when she didn't respond or react to their presence.
Rosalie recognized a few famous dead celebrities but this didn't make things any better. One of the ghosts looked similar to the ghost of her Aunt Freya in that it was crying black tears and the wounds it had died from seemed to be oozing black goo. This particular ghost also appeared to be less 'human' than the other ones. It opened his mouth abnormally wide and screamed in Rosalie's direction. She flinched. Her body was beginning to tremble?those ghosts that cried black tears were dangerous though she didn't really know why.
Blake suddenly noticed Rosalie's distressed state and looked up to see the large group of ghosts being attracted by Rosalie's presence. He raised an eyebrow at this phenomenon. But he supposed that a person who would see ghosts wasn't a common occurrence. And though Blake hadn't told Rosalie this - she seemed to be shinning more brightly than anyone else. Blake stepped up next to Rosalie and glared at the other ghosts using his intimidating presence to say 'Back off, this is my medium'. The other ghosts paused once they noticed Blake's powerful presence and they began to turn around and float away. The ghost that was crying black tears wasn't as easily persuaded to leave however and continued his way towards Rosalie.
Stubborn jerk. Blake thought as he stalked towards the strange ghost and raised his fist. If that's the way he wants it - fine! "HAH!" Blake threw a punch at the ghost's face and was surprised when it connected and sent the ghost flying backwards. Blake looked down at his fist in awe. Apparently, his touch could affect other ghosts. Blake smiled, that was convenient at least.
Rosalie let out a sigh of relief once Blake had managed to scare the ghosts away. She quickly straightened her glasses so that she wouldn't be seeing any more ghosts. But even if she did she knew that Blake would probably scare them away for her. Even in death, his mere presence was special.
Rosalie's attention was drawn next to-
"Cheers!" A young rockstar with spiked-up orange hair, and dark eyes had just popped the cork on a bottle of expensive champagne. The young man looked like a demon that had escaped from hell with his white makeup and black accents that reminded Carrie of KISS. The rockstar was wearing a black leather jacket with orange accents, and orange leather pants. He had several piercings in his ears, a nose piercing and a lip piercing. Satanic symbols hung from chains around his neck. There was a kind of wild, crazy look in his eyes. The rockstar cackled happily as he began to pour two glasses of champagne, which he handed to his two nearby companions.
One of his fellow band mates silently took the champagne glass, and put a straw in it before taking a sip. This man was wearing a skull mask, which Rosalie thought was completely inappropriate given the setting. This quiet, stoic man was tall, had wild, black, shoulder-length hair, was wearing a silver chain mail shirt with long sleeves, silver, faux leather pants and knee boots that had lots of straps and buckles. He looked like some kind of modern-day knight.
The other band mate was younger than the other two men, probably a high school student, Rosalie realized with surprise, but he appeared no less wild than his band mates. His face had also been painted white with black accents. The young man had short, two-inch long, spiked-up, neon green hair and wide chocolate brown eyes. He was shirt
less at a funeral, which Rosalie also thought was extremely inappropriate since you could see his pierced nipples and bellybutton piercing. He was wearing a pair of tight leather pants. He stuck his tongue into the champagne glass and Rosalie saw his tongue piercing.
Rosalie couldn't believe what she was seeing as the orange-haired rockstar and high school boy with the nipple piercings laughed happily and openly. "Huh? What's going on?? Who are they?" Rosalie asked, completely bewildered by their openly hateful behavior. They looked like escaped demons from hell. Rosalie shuddered.
Blake and Carrie followed Rosalie's line of sight and both spoke at the same time: "The Necromancers."
"They're Erotic Corpses' rivals." Carrie began to explain, miffing off Blake. "Their lead singer is Sadie Skellington - the girl you've seen before and who is crying onto Devon's chest right now. Their lead guitarist is Damion Hellsing, the one with the crazy eyes. Their bass guitarist is the masochistic looking boy, Morg Di Morte and their drummer is the creepy, quiet one, Gol Gotha."
Blake snorted. "They're not our rivals. They're not nearly as popular as Erotic Corpses. They'll never be as popular as us?" Blake growled.
Rosalie told Carrie what Blake said.
The witch raised an eyebrow. "Yea, but now that you're dead perhaps The Necromancers have a chance to rise in the rock music charts on Billboard. Erotic Corpses has suffered a huge blow with losing their lead singer."
Blake's jaw dropped. He looked at Damion's smiling, cackling face. "That jerk?did he kill me? And now he's openly celebrating at my funeral? I'm going to kick his butt!"
Carrie tapped her chin thoughtfully. "The Necromancers would have a lot to gain with your death, Blake - less competition, more money, more fame, more everything. And if Damion really did consider you both rivals - which he continually stated in interviews - it would make sense that he'd want to 'defeat' you. The Necromancers used to be number one until Erotic Corpses came along and stole the top spot in the rock music charts. That must have created some resentment?"
Rosalie noticed suddenly that Gol was staring in their direction. Rosalie shivered. It felt like Gol could see straight through her. "Hide!" Rosalie pushed Carrie and motioned for Blake to hide behind a tree.
"Whoa, what is it, Rosalie?" Carrie asked.
"What the hell, beggar girl?" Blake growled.
"That guy?Gol. I think he saw us." Rosalie explained, worriedly as she began to chew on her lower lip.
"So?" Carrie peeked out from behind the tree and looked at Gol. "He's not looking over here anymore and it doesn't look like he's going to tell his friends about us so it looks like we're off Scott Free?"
Rosalie tentatively peeked around the tree and saw that Carrie was right but?her bad feeling didn't go away. There was something about Gol that set her nerves on fire. She knew that he had seen or at least sensed their presence. It was like he had eyes in the back of his head.
A girl with a bob of short black hair and thick red highlights, and who was wearing stylish rocker clothes consisting of a bra top and black miniskirt, approached Damion, smiling and flung her arm around his shoulders. Damion began to laugh along with the girl and handed her a glass of champagne. They clinked their glasses together. Morg joined in and everyone noticed that Morg was now in nothing but his boxers! And it was cold out!
Rosalie watched as Damion got pissed off at Morg and tried to punch him. Morg ducked and Damion began to chase him through the gravestones. "Put some clothes on you masochistic pervert!"
"Who's that girl with the black and red hair?she looks awfully happy." Rosalie murmured.
"Tch." Blake made a disgusted noise. "That's Stylist Leila. I recently fired that useless girl and it looks like Damion has hired her to be the band's new stylist. That idiot?serves him right. She's an awful stylist. She was always trying to stick me in clothes that had polyester in them so that I'd end up sweating my butt off on stage. I also have extremely sensitive skin and can only wear 100% cotton items. Most synthetic materials make me break out into hives. I'll start coughing and sneezing?that woman almost killed me when she tried to put me into this synthetic fur coat."
Once again, Rosalie told Carrie what Blake had said.
"Hmmm, so you fired her?" Carrie sounded thoughtful as she looked at Leila's ecstatic expression. "And it seems like you weren't very nice to her either, Mr. Arrogant. If you treat people like that it's no wonder they hate you, wish you dead, and even end up celebrating with champagne at your funeral! Yep, that's what you get for being an jerk."
Blake blinked. Say what? "What was that, witch? You trying to pick a fight with me?!" Blake cracked his knuckles and took a swing at Carrie.
"Carrie! Look out!" Rosalie warned.
But Blake's fist simply passed right through Carrie! Carrie began to laugh. "What? Did he just try to punch me? He's not very smart is he? He's dead. The dead cannot affect the living unless?" Here Carrie suddenly bit her lower lip. "It would probably be better if he didn't know about that?"
Blake was fuming. Smarty-pants Goth girl?freak?witch?
Rosalie was looking back and forth between Blake and Carrie worriedly as she wrung her hands together.
Then Rosalie noticed someone else who looked extremely happy that Blake was dead - Blake's driver, Harper.
Harper had turned his face away from the funeral group and ironically towards Rosalie and the others, so that they could see the huge grin spreading across Harper's face.
"Wow. He sure looks happy?" Rosalie stated getting Carrie and Blake's attention.
Carrie and Blake turned their attention to Harper and both noticed the wide, creepy grin on his face. He looked like Christmas had just come early and he'd gotten a huge, expensive present.
Blake looked at Harper in disbelief. "You want to know how much money I pay that useless jerk? Two hundred thousand dollars a year! And he has the nerve to smile at my funeral! Pfft." Blake made a noise of disgust. "All he ever had to do was drive me places and drive me into the ghetto when I went looking for?entertainment. I occasionally needed a getaway vehicle but it's not like he was ever in any danger. I was there after all. Tch, Henry you coward."
"Wasn't his name Harper?" Rosalie asked before repeating everything that Blake had just said to Carrie.
A knowing look came upon Carrie's face. "Yet another person who would have liked to see you dead?and who got their wish. You didn't even know his name. How sad."
"Oh shut up, witch." Blake snarled. "I was pretty sure it was Henry?dammit?he looks like a Henry." Frowning, Blake caught sight of another familiar face - the manager of Erotic Corpses: Brody Beck.
Brody was an ex-professional surfer and even though he had a job as prestigious as being Erotic Corpses' manager he was always dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, some board shorts and thong sandals. He still wore his blonde hair long and shaggy about his shoulders. Even now, at Blake's funeral, Brody was dressed in a black Hawaiian shirt with white flowers on it, a pair of black shorts and black sandals. He had his usual aviator sunglasses on his face and was smoking a cigar as he calmly watched the proceedings.
Brody was like a cool older brother figure to the members of Erotic Corpses. Blake considered Brody and him to be pretty close since the man had gotten Blake out of a lot of sticky situations including overzealous fan girls, and people that Blake had picked fights with. But?Brody didn't appear to be crying. In fact, with that fancy Cuban cigar in his mouth one might say he was celebrating if one didn't know that Brody was always smoking Cubans.
Rosalie suddenly got the feeling that she was being watched. She turned around and thought she caught sight of someone hiding behind a tree several feet away from their own hiding spot. A dark, mysterious, shadowy figure dressed all in black and with a full facemask on their face.
"T-T-There's s-s-someone behind that tree?" Rosalie revealed, pointing a trembling finger towards the tree. "Hiding?I think it's the murderer?"
Carrie and Blake looked at the tree curiously.
r /> "I'll go. You girls stay here." Blake said as he started off for the tree.
The witch didn't see or hear Blake though, and so started off towards the tree too, but Rosalie reached out and grabbed Carrie's wrist, stopping her. "No?Blake said he'd go check it out first."
Carrie shrugged. "Okay?that makes sense. Having an invisible ally can come in handy."
Blake approached the tree and simply passed right through it to come face-to-face with Yoshida-sensei! His martial arts sensei who had helped him to train since the age of twelve, so that one day Blake could find his parents' murderer and get his bloody revenge!
"Yoshida-sensei!" Blake called out, feeling relieved, and happy. But Blake was surprised that his sensei was completely dressed like a ninja in head-to-toe black with a matching facemask that only revealed Yoshida-sensei's unmistakable wise, sharp eyes.
Yoshida's dark eyes weren't looking at Blake though - but straight through him - beyond and to Blake's funeral. There were angry fires blazing in Ren Yoshida's dark eyes. Blake watched in awe as Yoshida took out a gleaming, star-shaped shuriken and eyed the people around his grave suspiciously.
An aura of killing intent flared around Yoshida as he seemed to be debating something. It appeared as if he had an idea of who Blake's killer was but was unsure and so wasn't making his move yet.
Blake was taken aback that Yoshida-sensei had gone out of his way to go to Blake's funeral. He was always giving Yoshida-sensei a real hard time during his lessons. He regretted that now?
Yoshida-sensei had been against Blake's penchant of looking for and getting into fights. Yoshida had tried to explain to Blake over and over again that he wasn't teaching Blake martial arts so that he could go around beating people up.
Those martial arts skills were to be used so that Blake could defend himself. And to protect those he cared about. Blake had even been trained by Yoshida-sensei on how to defend himself against a gun?
But Blake had been shot.
This could only mean that he had been killed by someone he trusted. Blake realized as he eyed the people at his funeral. Blake decided that perhaps Carrie was right and someone at his funeral was the killer. He'd never tell her that though.
Yoshida raised his hand as if he intended to throw the shuriken but then he caught sight of Rosalie and Carrie and paused. He looked at them thoughtfully and suddenly tucked his shuriken away. He then slunk into the shadows of the cemetery and disappeared.
"Yoshida-sensei?" Blake had been affected by Yoshida-sensei's appearance, the fact that he wanted to kill Blake's murderer, and how he was unable to even speak or argue with Yoshida-sensei anymore. "Crap?"
Blake returned to the girls, and Rosalie gave the ghost an expectant look. "That was my martial arts instructor - Yoshida-sensei. He?already left."
Rosalie told Carrie what Blake had said and eyed the singer curiously since his expression looked haggard all of a sudden.
"A martial arts instructor? Skilled in the ways of killing people, no doubt?" Carrie piped up.
Blake instantly grew angry. "What the hell was that, Wicca witch?! Yoshida-sensei didn't kill me?besides, he's a weapons master. He would never touch a gun. It would be dishonorable. If he had wanted to kill me he would have done it with his weapon of choice - the samurai sword. Besides, he was here to kill my murderer. I think he suspects someone at my funeral. He was even planning on kill them, but when he saw you girls he apparently changed his mind maybe because the two of you would have been blamed for it."
Rosalie quickly told Carrie what was going on, but the witch didn't look too convinced. "A weapons master? What better way to cover his tracks than to use a gun then? No one would have suspected him?"
"Yoshida-sensei had no reason to kill me!" Blake burst out angrily.
Rosalie repeated Blake's words.
"Oh? Are you so sure? Did you treat your 'sensei' as nicely as you seemed to treat everyone else? Did you ever argue about something? Disagree on something?" Carrie slyly suggested.
Blake felt a stab of guilt at Carrie's words. He had indeed treated Yoshida-sensei disrespectfully on multiple occasions. He had always been arguing with his sensei about Blake's late night thrill seeking for one thing. Had Yoshida-sensei decided Blake was a risk to the people around him and had decided to kill Blake for that reason? Suddenly, Blake wasn't so sure that Yoshida-sensei hadn't been the one who killed him?
Carrie gave Rosalie an expectant look, anticipating Blake's response, but Rosalie shook her head not wanting to comment on Blake's troubled expression.
Carrie smiled knowingly. "You see? Everyone is a suspect until proven innocent. In order for Blake to cross over, his unfinished business needs to be taken care of. In other words, finding his murderer. To do that we'll need to get close to investigate these people." Carrie began.
"I don't want your help." Blake spat at the Goth girl.
Rosalie repeated Blake's words with a blush.
"Huh? You ungrateful jerk?" Carrie snarled in his general direction. "I'm trying to help you!"
"Well, I don't need your help." Blake crossed his arms over his muscular chest. "I can't get over the fact that you think Mr. Wraythe is a suspect. That's why I'll get Rosalie to help me discover who my murderer is. And then I'll freakin kill the son of a gun and get my revenge!" Vengeful fires burned brightly in Blake's lavender colored eyes.
Rosalie paled at Blake's words: I'll freakin kill the son of a gun and get my revenge. Blake wanted her help?with murder. Rosalie began to tremble. She didn't think she could handle something like this.
"Rosalie, what's wrong?" Carrie asked, noticing Rosalie's freaked out expression
Rosalie gulped. "Blake wants me to help him discover who his murderer is so that he can kill them and get revenge?"
"Kill them? He's dead. Does he want you to kill his murderer for him?" Carrie asked, giving Rosalie a skeptical look.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Rosalie moaned raising a hand in front of her mouth as her stomach began to feel queasy.
Blake was looking confident now. "You'll just need to get hired by Wraythe Records so that you can spy on everyone and find out who killed me. Then I'll know whose butt to kick! I don't care that I'm dead?I'll find a way to get my revenge! I'll kill the jerk who shot me!"
Rosalie frowned. Get hired by Wraythe Records? Spy on people she had nothing to do with and help Blake get revenge - which may end up with someone else dying? No way! No way! No way! Rosalie put her head in her hands. Rosalie had finally gotten herself a job! She was saving money for her father! Her father was her number one concern and priority! Rosalie had no interest in something as pointless as revenge.
Rosalie shook her head. "No. I'm sorry Blake, but?I won't help you. I just managed to get myself a job. And I'm saving money for?" Rosalie bit her lower lip and decided Blake didn't need to know about her tragic life story. "I'm sorry. But Carrie can help you?" She suggested.
Blake looked at Carrie and shook his head. He didn't trust Carrie but he trusted Rosalie. It had to be Rosalie. "No. It has to be you." Blake said firmly.
"Well, I'm sorry, Blake, but?I won't help you." Rosalie reiterated and turned to leave.
She did not look back. This wasn't even any of her business?she had nothing to do with Blake White and his revenge. Revenge was so not her thing.
She was Rosalie Galloway, a poor American girl. She had nothing to do with the glamorous world of celebrities and rockstars. Rosalie was a normal, well, ordinary girl. Things like ghosts, murder and revenge didn't have anything to do with her.
Rosalie didn't want to hurt anyone?
Rosalie left the cemetery without looking back. On the bus ride home she thought about how she had probably seen the last of Blake White and couldn't explain the strange pang in her chest at the thought. She felt a little guilty about it, but?it couldn't be helped. Rosalie couldn't help Blake White get his bloody revenge - she was a nurse for Pete's sake! Rosalie had no interest in helping Blake w
ith his revenge and killing a fellow human being. She was a nurse and to her the most precious thing was life. She would never help Blake kill someone.
That night, Rosalie worked at 7-Eleven from eleven o'clock PM to seven o'clock AM, and then returned to her apartment. When she returned to her apartment, she dressed in her cat pj's, and fell into a restless sleep that had her tossing and turning throughout most of the morning. She had set her alarm to wake her up at three o'clock PM so that she'd have at least eight hours of sleep. Her alarm went off and the radio turned on. Ironically, Erotic Corpses' Zombie Awakening was playing and Blake White's voice filled the room: "I'm alive! Yea! Yea! I'm back from hell!"
Rosalie didn't feel like getting up just yet and so lay in her bed with her eyes closed, listening to Blake's soothing singing voice for a few more moments. How could a man's voice that was singing punk rock be strangely soothing? She wondered to herself. And then the singing seemed to grow in volume until it felt like Blake was singing right there in her tiny bedroom. A tiny smile formed on Rosalie's face.
But?Blake White was dead.
Her smile turned into a frown, and she restlessly turned on her side and opened her eyes to see:
Blake White was lying on the bed next to her - close enough that even with her nearsightedness she was able to see his face, which was about an inch away from her own - clearly. Rosalie did what any sensible young woman would do upon finding a ghost in her bed - she screamed.
"Ahhh!" Rosalie screamed, abruptly sitting up.
Blake sat up too and tried to shove his index fingers into his ears. "What the hell? Dang it, shut up! Why are you screaming? It's just me. It's me, Blake!"
Rosalie gave Blake a disbelieving stare and continued to scream. "I know it's you - that's why I'm screaming."
"If you know it's me then you shouldn't be screaming!" Blake shot back in a frustrated tone and gave her a surprisingly hurt look. "You should have no reason to be afraid."
Rosalie blinked. "You're a ghost! Of course, I'm afraid!" I've always just ignored the ghosts I can see. I've never even talked to one of them! This is so bizarre?
Rosalie and Blake glared at each other heatedly.
Blake suddenly looked Rosalie over and tsked. He took in her bedhead - her wild mop of black curly hair, her tired-looking, ice-blue eyes, and the light blue pj's with the pattern of little cats and fish bones on them. "Your hair is a mess?and are those pj's? What girl your age wears pj's? You should be wearing one of those sexy, silk negligees from Victoria's Secret."
Rosalie fumbled to get her glasses from the bedside table and quickly put them on so that she could glare at Blake more clearly. She had turned bright red. "Y-Y-You shouldn't even be in here! This is my room! A lady's room! You?pervert! Get out!" Rosalie picked up a pillow and threw it at Blake.
It passed right through him. Blake yawned and raised an eyebrow at Rosalie. "Is that all you got?"
"Arghhhh!" Rosalie tugged on her hair, out of frustration.
Blake watched the quirky Rosalie with his chin in hand and thought she was really fun to tease.
Rosalie looked at the time on her alarm clock. It read 3:35 PM. "Ahhh! I'm going to be late?!" Rosalie exclaimed suddenly and hopped out of bed. She went to her dresser and pulled out a black t-shirt with a white, angry looking cat on it that read: 'White and Fluffy', a pair of jeans, and clean underwear. She entered the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
Rosalie quickly shed her clothes off and stepped into the shower. She began to shampoo and condition her hair with frantic motions, and then squirted some oatmeal body wash onto a loofa before beginning to scrub her body. However-
"You dress so nerdy - no guy would believe you were hiding a body that looked like that. You actually have a nice body." Blake stated, as he unabashedly looked Rosalie's naked body up and down with a critical eye.
Rosalie slowly turned her face to see Blake White standing in her bathroom and blatantly staring at her naked body! How the hell did he?? Rosalie wrapped her arms around her chest and screamed. "Ahhh! Get out! Get out! You pervert!" Rosalie sunk to her knees and tears sprung to her eyes. "Don't touch me!"
Blake yawned and raised an eyebrow at Rosalie's over-reaction. "Are you a complete idiot? How could I touch you?I'm a ghost. I was murdered, remember?" Blake picked his ear in an obstinate gesture.
Rosalie looked up and sniffled. That's right?she kept forgetting. Blake was dead?a ghost?that could pass through walls. That's how he got in the bathroom! "Please just?leave." Rosalie said, her voice quavering.
Blake shook his head and gave Rosalie a sly look. "Not uh. Not until you promise you'll help me get my revenge." Blake crossed his arms over his rock-hard chest and gave Rosalie an expectant stare.
Rosalie frowned. That was a promise she just couldn't make. Why couldn't Blake just leave her alone? "I'm sorry, I just?can't. I can't?" Rosalie began to tremble.
Blake began to feel bad - which was surprising. He didn't really care about anyone other than himself. "Tch. Well, I'll continue to haunt you until you change your mind, beggar girl. I'm going to drive you nuts! Count on it! I've grown tired of looking at your repulsive body anyways, so I'll just go wait in your room?" Blake declared as he stomped out of the bathroom and right through the bathroom door.
Rosalie's life flashed before her eyes. Blake White was going to haunt her until she agreed to help him. Oh no! Rosalie clutched her head in despair. My life is cursed. Rosalie quickly finished her shower, got dressed, washed her face, brushed her teeth and tried to tame her wild hair. She was unsuccessful and so pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail.
Rosalie took a deep breath and left the bathroom. Blake was seated on her bed and looked at her expectantly as she walked out of the bathroom. Rosalie decided to ignore him and made her way out of her bedroom and to the kitchen. She put a pan of water on the stove to boil so that she could use her coffee press to make a cup of coffee. Her coffee maker had blown a fuse and Rosalie didn't have the money to buy a new one.
Blake followed Rosalie curiously into the kitchen. He looked at the pot of water on the stove and quirked his head. "Are you going to make tea? Coffee?" Blake asked.
Rosalie ignored him and took out her coffee jar before scooping out two scoops of coffee, which she put into her Bodum.
Blake nodded to himself. "Ah, you're going to make coffee with a coffee press? You don't have a coffee maker? I have a Lamborghini Coffee Maker. It cost $1,750 dollars. It makes the best coffee, espresso, cappuccino?it even has a gear shift type handle." Blake boasted and his eyes seemed to shine as he thought about his coffee maker.
Lamborghini? Rosalie wondered. Like the Italian sports car? Rosalie had to admit she was curious about Blake's coffee maker but she stubbornly kept her mouth shut and ignored him. She turned the burner off once the water was boiled and poured the water into her coffee press. She went to her fridge, opened it, took out a loaf of bread, and took out two slices of toast from the bread bag.
The sound of the refrigerator door opening brought Rosalie's five black cats running into the kitchen. "Hello my darlings." Rosalie greeted them warmly.
Blake watched interestedly as the cats appeared out of their hiding places from around Rosalie's small living room and ran for the kitchen. One?two?three?four?five cats total. Blake counted and his eyes widened.
Rosalie took down a pan, turned the flame on again and used the pan to toast her bread while her coffee brewed. Once her toast was toasted Rosalie put it on a plate and turned around to press her coffee.
"That was so ghetto." Blake stated.
The cats had taken up positions to watch Rosalie make her breakfast and Blake saw that one was seated on top of the refrigerator, another was perched in one of the shelves that was above the stove, one was sitting right by the stove and the other two were around somewhere. The three that Blake could see were staring in his direction. Blake shook his head. They couldn't be staring at him, right?
"You sure have
a lot of cats?" Blake began and watched as the cat named Lucky, hopped up onto the counter - grabbed Rosalie's toast with its maw and ran off. "Ah, Rosalie, look out! Your toast-!" Blake tried to warn her.
Too late. "Lucky?" Rosalie let out a resigned sigh. Lucky always did that. She had finished making the coffee and pressing it, and so poured herself a cup before sitting at the counter to have her breakfast.
Blake frowned at her pathetic, meager breakfast. "Aren't you going to put anything in your coffee? Milk? Sugar? Cinnamon? Chocolate? Girls don't usually drink their coffee black. And aren't you going to make another piece of toast? Lucky stole that last one. Shouldn't you make some eggs or have some cereal too? You can't possibly be thinking of just having toast?beggar girl.
"I always have scrambled eggs, pancakes, toast with jam and butter, bacon, sausages, freshly squeezed orange juice?obviously I never made the juice myself. I usually had Manager Brody do it." Blake rambled on.
Rosalie continued to ignore Blake and washed her plate and cup. She fed her cats and got ready to leave. It was getting colder out as winter approached, and so she put on a jacket that had patches sewn in places where she had to fix it.
"Goodbye my kitties, I'll be back tonight after work?well, I guess I should say I'll be back in the morning." Rosalie explained before grabbing her purse, apartment keys and leaving the apartment.
"Hey! Wait up!" Blake called after Rosalie as he phased through her front door and took off after Rosalie. He was surprised when she didn't take the elevator. "Hey! Why aren't you taking the elevator?"
Rosalie did not respond. She walked down the stairs and exited the apartment building once she reached the first floor. She speed walked her way to the bus stop and silently waited for the bus to arrive.
Blake walked up and stood besides her. "I see how it is?you're ignoring me. Are you that pissed off that I saw you naked? Geesh, what a prude?" Blake let out a frustrated little huff.
Rosalie flinched but otherwise did not respond.
Blake scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Alright, I'm sorry?I won't peek on your naked body again?it's not like I wanted to see you naked anyways, beggar girl?"
Rosalie's eye twitched but she continued to remain silent. She wouldn't grace him with a response.
The bus arrived and Rosalie got on it. Blake followed after her and sat down besides her. Some guy almost sat down next to Rosalie where Blake was, but the rockstar ghost glared daggers at the guy - who got an unexplainable chill running down his spine and ran to sit somewhere else.
Rosalie sighed.
"Oh, come on, beggar girl, say something already. It's not like you can't hear me?" Blake was saying as he watched Rosalie's face closely. Absolutely no response. Blake's expression fell. "Hey?you can still hear and see me, right? I'm right here?Rosalie?can you see me? Can you hear me?" Blake waved a hand in front of Rosalie's face. "I exist dammit! I'm not?I'm not?" Blake faltered.
The bus stopped at a stop and Rosalie got out. Blake followed her down the sidewalk with his head hanging dejectedly. The singer raised an eyebrow when Rosalie abruptly turned down an alleyway and Blake floated after her hurriedly. Rosalie spun around and glared at Blake. "I see you. I hear you. You exist Blake White. You can't expect me to talk to you in front of other people though. They'll think I'm crazy and have me committed to an insane asylum."
Blake inexplicably felt like hugging Rosalie. She could see him! Hear him! Phew. "Ah, I guess you're right." Blake gave Rosalie a sheepish grin with a hand behind his head.
"Now, I'm already late, so don't get in my way, rockstar ghost." Rosalie declared as she stomped out of the alleyway with Blake following swiftly behind her. She speed walked down the street, and soon arrived at a building which had a sign hanging out front that read: Animal Rescue Center. There were also several tropical plants planted just outside of the building. Blake looked at the animal rescue center curiously. He thought Rosalie worked at the 7-Eleven.
Rosalie entered the building and was immediately greeted by a vet dressed in a white lab coat. "Ah, Rosalie, you're finally here. We were waiting for you. The other volunteers from Stray Cat Alliance have already arrived." The woman explained.
"Sorry I'm late." Rosalie apologized.
"It's okay, follow me?" The vet said. "We have twenty stray cats to do today."
Rosalie nodded and followed the veterinarian into a vet room. In the room were several other vets and volunteers, an operating table, and shelves were visible stocked with various medical equipment and supplies. An orange and white striped cat that had already been put under anesthesia lay on the table.
Blake followed Rosalie into the vet room and looked at the male cat curiously. He swallowed thickly. "Hey Rosalie?what are they going to do to that poor cat?"
Rosalie began to put on a pair of rubber gloves. "Is this the first cat we're going to neuter, today?" Rosalie asked aloud.
"That's right?" One of the volunteers gave Rosalie a strange look, like duh.
"They're going to castrate that poor cat?" Blake said, shaking his head and giving the male cat a sympathetic look.
"Hopefully this will increase its chances of getting adopted and lower the number of stray cats on the street." Rosalie said aloud.
The vets and volunteers nodded and smiled. Rosalie was one of the volunteers and members of Stray Cat Alliance - a nonprofit organization that informed people about spay and neuter programs in their area. Recently, Stray Cat Alliance started a program in South Los Angeles called 'I spayed L.A.' to trap, neuter, and return stray cats.
"Let us begin the procedure?" The female veterinarian said.
The team began the procedure and Blake left the room since he didn't want to distract Rosalie. Rosalie assisted the veterinarians to spay and neuter all twenty cats with the help of the other volunteers.
The singer waited for Rosalie in the waiting room and several hours passed. Once the operations were finished Rosalie was allowed to leave. "Thanks for helping out again Rosalie!" "Thanks Rosalie, you were a really big help today!" "Thanks Rosalie, see you next week!" The vets and volunteers said to Rosalie as she left the vet room and made her way into the waiting room where Blake was seated.
Rosalie smiled at them and nodded shyly.
"So how much do you get paid for this gig?" Blake asked as he followed Rosalie out of the Animal Rescue Center.
"Nothing. I'm a volunteer here." Rosalie explained in a low voice as she made her way to the bus stop.
Blake gawked at Rosalie. "You did all that work for free? No shit." His tone of voice showed his disbelief.
"I love animals." Rosalie explained softly. "More than people?they're much easier to get along with. They understand me. Animals are pure-hearted. They always forgive. They're loyal. They never do anything evil unless it's something their instincts are telling them they have to do in order to survive."
Blake began to feel jealous for some reason. "Pfft. What's so great about animals? It's not like they can sing you rock songs - like me." Blake puffed his chest up with pride.
"Birds can sing." Rosalie found herself teasing Blake. "And I assure you that God has made birds that have even more beautiful voices than your own, Blake White. Don't be so full of yourself. The world is a very big place."
Blake pouted. The singer was allergic to cats and dogs, and so had never had any pets. But now that he was dead their fur didn't seem to bother him and send him into a sneezing fit.
Even though Rosalie had said that - she didn't really mean it. Blake's voice was?amazing. It could move one to tears. But Rosalie decided he didn't need to know she felt that way. Rosalie hid a smile behind her hand. The medium stopped in front of the bus stop and got on the next bus that arrived a few minutes later.
"Now where are we going?" Blake asked, but Rosalie irritatingly remained silent!
The bus stopped at a stop that was close by to Good Samaritan Hospital next. Rosalie got off of the bus and took a deep breath. She was ther
e to visit her father and had to avoid Dr. Cole at all cost. She had her .45 with her this time around, safely stowed away in her purse.
She was still alone with no one to depend on except herself. Well, there was Blake White, floating next to her, but he was dead. She sighed. It wasn't like he could help her if she needed it. Not anymore?
Rosalie remembered the night Blake had saved her from those evil jerks. She was supposed to be Blake's 'slave' after that since she owed him one. But then?someone had shot Blake in the head and she had gotten out of that deal. She realized that she still owed him one though, and really should be helping him find his murderer, but?she didn't want to hurt anyone. Rosalie bit her lower lip, feeling torn.
Rosalie clutched her purse tightly to her side and entered Good Samaritan Hospital through the automatic sliding doors. Rosalie was terrified of coming to the hospital because she might run into Dr. Cole, but?she had to visit her poor, lonely father, who was dying of cancer. A deep breath to steel herself, Rosalie made her way into the hospital lobby.
Blake shrugged and followed behind her - curious about why the gloomy girl was here and wondering if she had more volunteer work to do. Rosalie made her way to the elevator and pressed the elevator button. A few seconds later, the elevator arrived and Rosalie began to ride it to the 6th floor. There was a blonde-haired, little girl with wide blue eyes on the elevator with a slightly transparent body. Rosalie gasped and pressed her back against the elevator wall. A ghost girl. Rosalie tried not to look at the bruises on her throat, tried not to think about what had happened to that poor abused little girl. The little girl's face turned to regard Rosalie and she took a step towards the medium. Rosalie paled but then Blake moved to stand protectively next to her and the ghost girl stopped moving. The little girl just stood there, eerily silent and stared at Rosalie with hungry eyes.
The elevator arrived at the 6th floor and Rosalie let out a breath of relief as she exited the elevator and did not look back. Rosalie began to make her way down the hall with Blake floating behind her. Rosalie didn't look through the open hospital doors because she didn't want to see any more ghosts?ghosts of people who had died in this hospital. Some of the ghosts were from decades ago, others were more recent. Hospitals were breeding grounds for ghosts though and usually a place Rosalie would have rather avoided. Blake noticed the receptionist make a phone call upon seeing Rosalie arrive and gave her a suspicious look since she didn't say anything to Rosalie as she walked past.
Rosalie made her way to room 607 and opened the door. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. A single bed was in the room that had a single window, and lying in the bed was a 50-something year old man with black hair like Rosalie's that had streaks of gray, gray, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and a thin mustache.
The man was sitting up in bed and looking out the window at the maple trees that now had bright orange leaves. Fall was upon them and the weather was getting steadily colder and colder. There was a bit of frost on the windows already.
It was a relatively nice hospital room and Blake knew it was probably costly to be a live-in patient there. "Hello Dad." Rosalie said softly as she greeted her father.
Dad? Blake thought with a pang in his chest, remembering his own father.
Edgar turned his head to look at Rosalie and smiled as soon as he caught sight of her. "Rosalie, honey?how are you?" Edgar noticed that Rosalie was no longer wearing her nurse's outfit but didn't say anything about it.
Rosalie approached the bed and took a seat next to the bed so she could reach out and hold her father's hand. "I'm good, Dad?really good?"
"Well, that's good then?" Edgar smiled and nodded. The two remained silent and just kept each other company for well over an hour.
Blake was surprised at how quiet the two of them were being. The silence was driving him a bit nuts. He didn't do quiet. He was a punk rockstar. The louder the better. "Doesn't your father have a radio he can listen to?" Blake suggested.
"Dad, mind if we put on the radio?" Rosalie asked.
Edgar shook his head. "No."
Rosalie spotted an alarm clock on the bedside table and turned on the radio. She flipped through the stations until-
"Stop." Blake said.
Erotic Corpses was playing on that station. Rosalie cringed. She didn't think her father could handle punk rock music in his weak state. "I can change it if this kind of music bothers you, Dad."
Edgar surprisingly shook his head, a glint in his gray eyes, "No, I like it. It's?lively."
Blake puffed out his chest with pride. Yea, I'm so the man. "Well, at least someone has good taste around here." Blake chided Rosalie and then he began to sing along with his own voice.
Edgar began to move his head to the beat of the song and then his eyes began to tear up. Rosalie immediately became concerned. "Dad! What's wrong?"
"No, it's nothing?it's just that I heard on the news that this young man died. Isn't this Blake White that we're listening to? Such a shame?so young?so talented?to commit suicide. Such a tragedy." Edgar shook his head sadly.
Rosalie frowned grimly. "Dad?he didn't commit suicide. He was murdered."
Edgar's eyes widened and he gave his daughter a searching look. "How do you know that, Rosalie?"
"Ah?a friend of mine told me. He's absolutely sure of it." Rosalie explained evasively.
"I see." Edgar sank back onto his pillow suddenly feeling short of breath. "That's horrible. What kind of person would kill someone so young and talented?that person is a horrible person, Rosalie."
Rosalie began to chew on her lower lip. "But?even if he or she is a horrible person it wouldn't be right for someone to get revenge upon him or her for Blake's sake, right Dad?"
Edgar hummed thoughtfully. "Revenge? Perhaps not, but Blake White deserves justice. His murderer must be found and brought to trial - let the law decide his or her punishment. Only then can Blake's soul truly rest in peace."
"Justice?" Rosalie echoed.
A nurse entered the room at that moment. "Ah, I'm sorry I need to run some tests on your father, Rosalie." The nurse had a strained look on her face as if she was just trying to be polite but what she really wanted to do was to glare at Rosalie.
"Oh, hi Nurse Marlene." Rosalie greeted her father's nurse whom she recognized. Nurse Marlene had been one of Rosalie's coworkers until Rosalie had been fired. She was a pretty brunette with a smattering of cute freckles across her face. Rosalie nodded and stood up from her chair. "No worries, I understand. I'll be going then. Bye Dad. Feel better."
Edgar smiled and nodded. "Thank you, honey." He had a sad, wistful look on his face.
Blake followed Rosalie out of the hospital room with his hands behind his head. "You have a cool father, Rosalie."
"You think so?" She asked softly. "I think so too." Rosalie smiled. However-
Rosalie had been looking at Blake, who was on her left, and so didn't see the hand that suddenly emerged from a door on her right. This hand covered Rosalie's mouth and pulled her into a room - the door of which was swiftly closed.
"What the hell?" Blake burst out and looked at the closed door. "Crap!" Blake began to panic before he remembered that he could pass through walls. "Oh, right."
Blake quickly stepped through the door and inside of the hospital room. The blinds had been lowered and it was pitch black inside of the room, but Blake could make out two figures in front of him:
Rosalie and a mysterious man who had a hold of her. The man still had one hand over Rosalie's mouth and his other hand was wrapped firmly around her waist. Rosalie's back was against the man's chest. Rosalie was struggling in the man's powerful grasp and she stepped on his foot using all her strength.
The man grunted in pain and loosened his hold upon Rosalie long enough for her to escape. Rosalie quickly got away and reached into her shoulder bag to pull out her gun. Rosalie walked backwards and flipped on the light switch to reveal that her own suspicions had been correct about the ident
ity of her mysterious assailant. It was Dr. Cole.
As soon as the lights came on, Blake saw that Rosalie had somehow gotten her hands on a gun and had it pointed at a man who was obviously a doctor at the hospital. The doctor was tall and handsome with slicked back black hair, dark blue eyes, pale skin, a long white lab coat and shinny, leather Ferragamos.
What the hell? Blake didn't know what the hell was going on. Who the hell was this guy and why had he just attacked Rosalie?
"Dr. Cole?" Rosalie greeted, her voice trembling.
"Hello Rosalie." Dr. Cole purred in a voice as smooth as black silk. "I see you remembered to bring your little toy this time. Pity." Dr. Cole put his hands out in a helpless gesture. "And here I was hoping we could have a little fun."
Rosalie held the gun pointed at Dr. Cole, her hand shaking. "Stay back?don't come any closer or I'll?I'll shoot!"
Dr. Cole raised an eyebrow at Rosalie. "Will you now? Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie. I know you. And apparently, I know you better than you know yourself. You're a nurse. The most important thing to a nurse is - life. You could never take someone's life, Rosalie. You won't hurt me." Dr. Cole declared as he took a step closer to Rosalie. "You know, you're full of openings." Dr. Cole looked over Rosalie's stance - how she was fully facing him, gun raised in one hand. "Tsk." He shook his head at her. "A knife or gun is just a useless piece of metal if you don't know how to use it properly."
Blake frowned at Dr. Cole's insightful words. Is he a martial artist too? Crap?every rich jerk in California thinks he should be a martial artist these days and is blowing their money on lessons.
Dr. Cole suddenly kicked out with his right foot and sent Rosalie's gun flying out of her hand.
"Look out, Rosalie!" Blake tried to warn her but his warning came too late.
"Ah!" Rosalie cried as Dr. Cole's foot hit her wrist painfully and caused her to drop the gun. Dr. Cole approached Rosalie with swift strides. Rosalie looked up at Dr. Cole fearfully - frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Shit! Run Rosalie! Get out of this room!" Blake yelled at her. "You idiot!"
Dr. Cole's hand shot out and wrapped itself around Rosalie's throat. The heart surgeon smiled evilly - he had a trapped a scared little rabbit. "You've been a very naughty girl, Rosalie. No one can escape me?you belong to me. Didn't I already tell you - your heart will be mine. Be mine, and I too will be yours. Today, I'm going to make love to you, Rosalie. I'll make you love me." Dr. Cole fondled Rosalie's hair with his free hand.
Blake was beginning to get the picture now. This Dr. Cole character was some kind of sick pervert and he knew martial arts. Crap! Rosalie had to get the hell out of there! "Rosalie! What are you doing? Fight back! Push him! Scream! Bite him! Scratch him! Come on! Fight!" Blake shouted at her.
But Rosalie was completely paralyzed with fear and her body was trembling. Her ice-blue eyes began to fill up with tears. I'm sorry Blake. She thought. She was so pathetic. Please don't watch this?
"Dang it. Do something!" Blake insisted as he tried to shove Rosalie from behind.
And then the strangest thing happened as he tried to push on Rosalie's back with his right hand. Instead of his hand passing through Rosalie like it should have - it went inside of Rosalie's body and got stuck inside. "What the?" Blake exclaimed as he tried to pull his hand out.
Dr. Cole began to lift up Rosalie's t-shirt and Blake's eyes flared with anger. "Freakin pervert!"
SLAP! Rosalie slapped Dr. Cole hard across the face. The doctor looked at Rosalie in shock as he stumbled backwards, and the medium was looking equally shocked. What had just happened?
"You just hit me." Dr. Cole said slowly.
Rosalie paled, "I didn't?"
"You don't want to make me angry, Rosalie." Dr. Cold said in a dangerous tone as he approached Rosalie with menacing steps. He began to raise his hand-
Rosalie threw her arms over her head to protect herself. "I'm sorry!"
"Freakin jerk, don't you dare touch her!" Blake yelled and tried to stride forward - through Rosalie.
Punch. Block. Dr. Cole looked at his caught fist in a mixture of shock and surprise. He had just flung a swift punch at Rosalie, who had actually caught his fist in her right hand. Her grip tightened on Dr. Cole's hand so that he couldn't take his hand back. "Impossible?" Dr. Cole muttered to himself.
Rosalie had her head bowed but when she looked up, Dr. Cole noticed that her eyes were no longer ice-blue but a pale lavender color.
Blake had just completely possessed Rosalie's body.
There was no longer fear in Rosalie's eyes but a burning, angry fire. "You'd actually hit a defenseless, weak girl like Rosalie - you sick, cowardly jerk!" Blake shoved Dr. Cole back causing him to stumble again.
Dr. Cole gave Rosalie a confused and wary look. "Rosalie?"
Blake cracked his knuckles and his head from side-to-side. "It's a nice feeling being in a body again?even if it is a weak woman's body this will be good enough to kick your butt." Blake moved forward and threw a punch at Dr. Cole.
Dr. Cole blocked and looked at 'Rosalie' in surprise. "Has someone been taking martial arts lessons?"
"Guilty." Blake said as he began to throw a series of lightning punches Dr. Cole's way.
Dr. Cole raised his own fists to deflect and block, and tried to fling a few punches of his own. "I guess I don't need to hold back then." The heart surgeon declared with a smirk before sending a roundhouse kick at Rosalie's head.
Blake leapt backwards and moved his head from side-to-side to avoid the attack.
Dr. Cole got into a right hand stance and then a left hand stance, his feet shuffling back and forth before he approached Blake and kicked out again.
Blake blocked the kick with his wrist. Another kick came at Blake - this one seemed to happen in slow motion to Blake who caught Dr. Cole's leg and using the doctor's temporarily vulnerable position sent his elbow crashing into Dr. Cole's face.
BAM! Dr. Cole staggered backwards and rubbed his chin. "You've been studying Muay Thai? Isn't that a bit much for a cowardly, weak girl like you, Rosalie?"
"I think you've been underestimating me. Not all women are weak, jerk. I'll prove it to you right now as I kick your butt!" Blake grinned.
Frustrated, Dr. Cole sent a series of spinning roundhouse kicks Blake's way.
Blake easily avoided the kicks and moved in close to punch Dr. Cole. Dr. Cole's reflexes were faster than Blake anticipated and Dr. Cole dodged his head back and forth and avoided getting punched. But Dr. Cole didn't see the kick coming.
BAM! Dr. Cole was kicked across the face and Blake started forward - leapt up into the air and rammed his knee into Dr. Cole's chest - knocking the wind out of the doctor.
Dr. Cole blinked at 'Rosalie' in disbelief. That gloomy girl had just fractured one of his ribs. What the hell was going on?!
Blake got into a Muay Thai stance and prepared to attack again. However-
There was a sudden knock at the door.
"Dr. Cole? Are you in there? We need you in the ER, stat." Came a nurse's frantic sounding voice.
Blake lowered his fists, and gave Dr. Cole a cocky look. "Looks like you've learned your lesson, doc. If you know what's good for you you'll stay far away from me. Next time, I'll kill you and I won't need a gun to do it. I'll use this weak body - my hands, elbows and knees to send your perverted butt to hell."
Dr. Cole removed his hands from his torso, eyebrow raised. "Touch?, Rosalie. Touch?." Dr. Cole repeated grimly as he walked past Rosalie and to the door. The doctor opened the door, exited, and didn't look back.