Death, for some people, is something to be afraid of. They are the power-hungry people who don’t trust anyone to take over their position. Or idiot teenagers.

Some people welcome death, see it as a friend, a friend who comes to take them away from the pain of the living. They are the old, or the pain filled, or the depressed.

Death, Uncle Mortmain or Uncle Mort, is kind to all those who deserve it. My name is Cassiandra Morteau, and Death is my uncle.

“Cassi, wake up! You have to go to school!” my uncle yells up from the kitchen.

“I don’t wanna go to school!” I mumble into the pillow.

“I heard that! Get your butt ready, and I will drop you off.”

I groan and curse at him, then reluctantly pulled off my covers and got dressed. For my first day at a new school, I wore something that was comfortable, but flattering to my figure. I put on my cowboy boots and walked downstairs. On a plate, was a biscuit and two pieces of bacon.

“Look who’s awake. Sleeping Beauty. I heard your snores two floors below you.” my cousin chuckled.

Josh is seventeen, and my aunt’s son. Both of our parents died, so our uncle took us in. We had always seen each other twice a year, and now we see each other every day. We tend to move around a lot, but since family comes before a job, even an eternal job, Uncle Mort said that we were staying in one place until Josh graduates. He is a senior, it is the middle of December. A couple days before Christmas break.

“Yeah well, cuz, you need to seriously stop talking in your sleep. I don’t need to hear about how hot Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift are.” I replied, eating my bacon. My uncle chuckles, but doesn’t step in.

Josh blushes bright red, and it matches his bright red-orange hair. He has ginger hair, I have almost maroon hair: Dark red, straight, and streaked with hunter green. Uncle Mort has brown hair, but it is pretty obvious we are still related. We all have the same ice-blue eyes.

When we finish breakfast, I grab a set of keys hanging from a hook. I twirl it around my finger and watch Josh’s eyes follow it like it was food. I walked out to the connecting garage and went over to the black Ducati sitting in the corner. We had four vehicles. One was driven by me, one by Josh, one by Uncle Mort, and one is the family car. We get new cars in every town that we go to.

I put on the soft gray leather jacket hanging on the handle-bar. I hear scuttling in the corner and turn see the culprit. A big, gray dormouse was nibbling on a piece of cheese next to a closed mousetrap.

“Aren’t you smart. Got the cheese, but kept a leg, huh?” I said to it.

It squeaked, then ran off, stuffing the cheese into its mouth. I sighed and got on the bike. I turned to key in the ignition and the Ducati roared to life. I swung my leg over it, and opened the garage door with a handy button in between the handles.

I got to school with fifteen minutes to spare, and took my keys out. Josh was pulling up beside me, and smirked when he got out. “You got a few admirers.”

I turned and smirked at the horde of boys staring at me. And my bike. “I think they like my bike.” I flicked fingers away from my bike as one boy got too close for my comfort.

“Maybe, but a few are definitely staring at you. Their girlfriends don’t look too happy about it either.” he replied, his voice as smooth as molasses.

I shrug, there are always boys, and girls, staring at me. I learned to ignore them after Anaheim. We walk in side-by-side. Proud, straight-backed, awe-inspiring. One teacher manages to spit coffee all over some poor girl as he flirts with her. He would be someone to watch closely.

We went to the office and got our schedules. The office lady tried to strike up a conversation. I toned her out after her and Josh started talking about the “God Particle”. Science was never my thing. Josh nudged me and we left. I didn’t bother to go to my locker. I had nothing to go get.

“Remember, try not to kill anyone. Uncle wouldn’t be happy.” he whispers as we get to our first period, the only one we share: Art.

“I promise, but only if you promise to as well.”

We agreed and went inside. The teacher was the perv I saw outside. He looked up from his drawing, and was about to yell, but then he saw us. He put on a nice face, and directed us to our seats. Josh was paired off with a kid named Jack. Jack stood up to shake Josh’s hand, but only succeeded in bumping the table with his knee.

He was tall, and had to be like, six foot, five inches. He towered over my cousin, and Josh looked over shocked. Tallest person we had ever seen was seven feet, Jack came very close.

I was put with a hottie. He obviously did the class just for the credit, but he was a fairly good painter. He had out watercolors, and had a good eye for color. Josh in front of me cleared his throat and turned around. He waggled his eyebrows and I blushed.

He was staring at you outside. he mouthed.

I shrugged, and went over to the art supply closet to get paints and a canvas. There was only watercolor left, so I shrugged again and grabbed all I could get. I sat back down, and started mixing colors. I saw no assignment on the board, and everyone was doing something different, so I put my paintbrush on the canvas.

“You might not want to do anything yet,” the boy next to me whispered. “You have to paint something important from your childhood.”

I smiled at him, and mouthed, Thank you. He smiled and went back to working on his painting. Me being the nosy person I am, I looked at his. It was a vase, green with silver and blue spindly lines decorating it. I heard him snort, then blushed and turned to my non-existent painting.

Josh… What should I paint? There are not very many school-appropriate things to paint that were in my life. I thought. One of the good things about being related to a practical deity, is you get some cool powers.

I don’t know, make something up I guess. he replied.

Okay, thanks so much for the help. Another thing, emotions are very powerful in thoughts, so sarcasm was obviously evident. It also makes it impossible to lie.

No problem coz. he replied cheerfully.

I shrugged and the boy next to me looked over like I was crazy. I smiled sweetly at him, and turned to the color palette. I started mixing colors, and felt eyes on me. I knew it was the boy. I picked up a paint with my brush that was redder than blood, and put it on the canvas.

By the end of the period, I had a completely finished painting of the aura’s of my entire close family. Various shades of reds, greens, and blues. There were only four different ones. A purple, a silver, a gold, and nothing. The auras were all surrounding a shadow of someone in the family, and everyone but me had a visible aura. The gold belongs to Josh, gold to Uncle Mort, and the purple belonged to Uncle Mort’s wife. She died when I was eight, and it destroyed Uncle Mort.

I put my paint palette away, and walked up to the front of the classroom with my painting in hand. I saw Josh’s hand pop out, and we high-fived. His was done too, but he was waiting for me to be done so we could turn them both in at the same time. He fell in behind me, and we dropped the artworks off, and I lifted my lip in a snarl at the teacher as he watched me approach.

Not the good teacher way, the creepy, perverted, watching-her-boobs-and-hips-sway as she comes up kind of way. Like I said, someone to watch.