Chapter 8.2Mature

The wave of people trickled into a large hall, with long rows of tables and a smaller table at the other end of the room, perpendicular to all the others.

Ibby and Beth were ushered to the table at the end of the room. The chair in the centre of the table was left empty. Everyone took their places but no one sat. Beth did the same, though confused about it. She also noticed there was a small table set for two at the other end of the hall, by the door.

Evil strode in and took his place, between Isabella and an empty seat. As he sat, so did everyone else. Breakfast began and talk floated around the room.

The table was laid out like a buffet, so that you could take whatever you liked. Beth was cautious about trying something that looked like meat but was coated in something. It tasted like chicken though and she got some more.

Beth was sat next to Isabella, though there was another empty seat beside her.

“Storm, you can come and sit, you know?” Evil said, seemingly to no one in particular.

“I’d rather not, my lord,” said a male voice from the shadows where the candles didn’t reach.

“Storm, I’m perfectly safe here.”

After a moment, someone sat down in the seat beside Beth. She cast her eyes over him. His hair was a shocking white and his eyes were somewhere between purple and red. She instantly recognised him as an albino. He wore a pair of leather trousers and a black shirt. His wings were white, like his hair. She saw the weapons all over him, marking him out as a warrior. Somehow though, he didn’t scare her.

He began to eat in silence.

After a while, he said, “My lord?”

“Hm?” Evil responded, turning to him.

“Permission to light up?”

Evil rolled his eyes. “If you must.”

The man, Storm, nodded his thanks. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. He put it between his lips and clicked his fingers, the end instantly beginning to burn. He took a long drag and held the cigarette between two fingers as he continued to eat.

As Beth looked him over, she couldn’t help but admit to herself that he was good-looking. He was muscular, more so than Robert, but not to the point that it looked weird. His white hair matched his skin but his paleness didn’t affect the fact that he was attractive.

Storm looked up at her, meeting her eyes with his light purple ones.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as he took another drag of his cigarette.

Beth blushed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he grinned.

As the smell of the smoke from his cigarette reached her nose, Beth was expecting the foulness that usually came from the thin nails of lung cancer. Instead, it was a very sweet smell, though not sickly.

The End

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