First, there was a traumatizing boat ride involving purple hallucinations, improper touching, students falling overboard, and renegade franken-pirate-minipets (besides, ninjas are way better). Then there was getting washed up on some foggy uninhabited beach, getting stranded on said beach with no faculty or Trick-or-Treater or anyone in a position of authority within sight. Then there was the fog-induced madness and the auditory and visual hallucinations that came with it, visions of her classmates dying, of hearing them cry out, of smelling all that blood, all that wasted blood, it was only understandable that Maritess never wanted to leave the safety of her dorm room ever again.

Aside from the classes she needed to attend as well as the two weeks worth of detention the staff had given her, the winged vampire had pretty much stayed within the confines of her room. With her minipets to keep her company, and the occassional text message sent out, Maritess had no contact with the outside world. And she liked it that way.

Of course, she needed to deal with her minipets getting cabin fever. Trixie especially did not like staying put for too long, it needed to roam! To grab! To explore! But Tess had learned that the closet she'd rarely put to use was now serving its purpose in keeping the mytrix out of her hair. Was it a cruel thing to do? Perhaps. But after what happened to her on the boat and on the island, Maritess was in no magnanimous mood. She wanted to be a little selfish for a while longer and promised the purple tentacle she'd make it up to it eventually.

Unfortunately, this meant Maritess was falling into her old habits of avoiding everything, of being a passive observer and simply reacting to her environment. She was forgetting why she was here in the school in the first place! Namely to find her legs and to learn how to assert herself. Well, too bad, Tess, you're going to be stuck in a rut forever and you'll graduate from the academy legless because you're such a spineless, weak, underachieving- A well-timed knock on the door interrupted her self-deprecating inner monologue.

Years of having manners beaten into her had her immediately asking, "Who is it?" instead of sharply telling the intruder to go away.

There came no audible response. Only the distinct sound of knuckles rapping impatiently against wood.

Maritess heaved a sigh and reluctantly left the comforting sanctuary of her bar and her blanket to answer the door. And found no one on the other side. She quirked a brow, wondering if this was just some sort of prank the other students were playing on her as a means of coping. If it was, Tess didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her annoyed. But something told her to look down.

So she did.

Lying on the floor was a letter. Frowning, Maritess lowered herself to retrieve the envelope from the ground and bring it inside to read in privacy. Once more she hung upside from the bar, opening the envelope with some help from her scissor-bird, and let out a very, very loud squeak. She knew this handwriting. It was her mother's!!!! Oh Jack, Oh Jack, Oh Jack, why did her mother send her a letter? And how was it delivered here to her room? Weren't these things usually left in the lobby for the students to pick up on their own? Tess couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she began reading,

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Dear Maritess,

Bitterheart, it's been almost a year since you were enrolled in that Academy instead of my own alma matter or your father's. As proud as we are that such a prestigious school ever accepted you, we haven't heard word of your success in locating your better half. And it is your better half because it never talks back to us!

Your father and I have been receiving worrying news of your behavior. TWO detentions in one year? Such a thing is unheard of, bitterheart! Why, I can't even recall you ever being verbally disciplined by your instructors! It is obvious you've fallen into some bad company and they are ruining your reputation and your life! I thought sending you those Mytrax crystals would keep you preoccupied long enough to stay out of trouble and in the good graces of your teachers. Obviously I gave you too much credit.

Since you haven't so much as found a scrap's worth of clues regarding your better half's whereabouts, your father and I have decided to take matters into our own hands. In a manner of speaking, we all know parents are discouraged from personally appearing on school grounds (a ridiculous condition in my and your father's opinion and if it weren't for you losing your legs in the first place you wouldn't be in such a restrictive location) so we sent you something special in your monthly scare package.

Several somethings, actually, but I'm sure you'll find out for yourself soon enough.

Blood-kisses,
Mama

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Maritess shot out of her room like a bat out of hell. (A rather appropriate imagery given her wings.) She zoomed for the lobby where she all but strangled the receptionist gnome while demanding for the scare packages. Tess had to make sure no one opened it if her guess was right. She had to BURN the damn thing before it was too late.

She was told, in between gurgles for air, that they didn't get any scare package other than the usual ones. And for once, Maritess was grateful for the terrible, terrible postal system of her little backwater town. She flew back to her room at a distinctly slower pace, humming a relieved little tune, and feeling like she escaped turning-undead. Until, that is, crimson eyes fell upon her previously unused bed.

Lying atop the undisturbed covers was a box. A box she was absolutely certain had not been there before she left. Again there was the knocking sound. Except this time, it didn't come from her door. It came from inside the box.

Wait, don't panic yet, Tess. You can still be rid of it! You haven't opened it yet! She slowly reached for the rectangular object, but just before she could get a hold of it, the lid opened and a manicured hand adorned with matronly jewelry suddenly grabbed her wrist. "Oh candlejack," she whispered, then winced as the grip on her wrist tightened.

The hand let her go and proceeded to tap against the box. It took Tess a moment to recognize it was tapping morse code. "P-please slow down, I-I'm a little rusty."

The hand drooped slightly, as if sighing in annoyance and disappointment. It (she?) began to motion towards the bookbat and the penstrictor and Tess flew over to hand both writing instruments to the appendage. Who began to write with a fancy flourish, introducing herself as Esmerelda and how she will now be something akin to a-

"My parents sent me a nanny!?!"

More fancy scribbling.

"My mistake, my parents sent me several chaperones?!"

She looked up from the bookbat and saw there were more boxes on the bed. When did? How did? What are they? Tess only knew one thing: She had to get rid of them. ASAP.