Quortorth: Chapter 1

(A/N I'm back with this story in the sequel! Read prologue first, it makes it make sense.)

Chapter 1,
Connor O'Brian and His Escape

Connor O'Brian wiped his fawn colored bangs from his forehead as he watched the town outside his bedroom window.

Outside his window, there was a large fountain, spewing foggy brown water. The grass was as dead as the undead. He watched his neighbors pass by.

Old miss Gurdy and her cat Stuffings. Miss Gurdy had an old wrinkled body, and long finger nails-about a good two inches long. Her body was shaded an odd greenish-brown color. Her finger nails stained with blood. Her cat, Stuffings, had a just as evil looking face as the day before. The Persian cat's tongue reached out and lapped his small pink tongue at his jet black fur tainted with the red of blood. Miss Gurdy waved at him from his window with a smile as she urged her cat on from their yard.

Dark Floy. A four legged bug that always had a top hat on. He looked like a glorified spider.

Quindle Ramos, a vampire. Her right eye was a deep brown, while the second was a piercing blue. She was a very beautiful demon. Long and luscious purple hair, plump pink lips, always topped with blood. Her clothes were just as revealing as her mouth was. She had had a thing for Connor since he was 13, and he was now 15. One of her eyes drifted to the left, while the other shifted to the right.

There was stories that would spread around the small 'town'-hell. It was said, the eyes belonged to her long lost lovers, and she had socked her own eyes and would place her deceased mortal lover's eye into her socket. It was never confirmed.

Connor sighed let his feet carry him from the window, to the twin sized bed, in the brick walled bedroom. He noticed the stray photo he was viewing recently bounce off his bed.

He hurried down to grab it, then climbed back up to get comfortable and view the picture once more. He outlined the blonde's gentle face with his finger. This was his mother.

She had long blonde hair, that was curled. In the picture, anyway. He had gotten her hair and eyes. Her emerald eyes. His hair was just a little darker than hers. But, he had gotten his father's facial structure. Nose, forehead, but his chin was a mixture of his mother's and his father's. It was slightly in a gentle curve, but had a small firmness to it. He didn't know if it was because of how old he was, or if it was just how it was gonna look.

He didn't know who his father was, this was the only picture Holtz had given him when he was growing up. In one of his generous days, Connor asked who the lady and the baby were. The angry old man had told the 6 year old that it was Connor and his mother.

Since then, he would find time to view the picture with an intensity that scared even him. When Connor had arrived in Hell, his memory had been drained of all memories.

He blew his neck long hair off his forehead again. It seemed in Hell, the temperature was always above 90 degrees, and he constantly found himself sweating. Connor was surprised he hadn't died of a heat stroke yet.

"Holtz," Connor started as he came into the kitchen, to see the old man sipping some kind of soup. What is that stringy stuff? Never mind, he didn't want to know. The old man looked up."I'm going into town. I need to pick up a new pair of pants."

Holtz scowled,"What's wrong with the pair you have now?" He questioned, a little angered by being disturbed by the adolescent.

"They're ripped from our last session." Connor said looking down at the cottony pants he was wearing.

Holtz sighed in annoyance,"Be back before the humans run through, want to get our session done during that."

Connor nodded and began to walk out the door.

Once he got into town, he went to his favorite merchant. He was a werewolf, too."Hi." He said and smiled at the man.

Wesley Whyndom-Price smiled at the teen."Hello Connor."

"How was The Land?" Connor asked. Wesley traveled back and forth from Hell and Earth, bringing back supplies and other utensils to be sold.

"Magnificent! I visited with a good chum of mine. Angelus, a werewolf, like you and me." Wesley said with a smile, his thick British accent flowing with the words.

Connor frowned at the familiarity of the name, but shrugged it off as maybe hearing Wesley use it before.

"I feel so sorry for him. His son went missing when he was just a tyke of 6 years. His wife though, she has been a nervous wreck. She actually cried on my shoulder," Connor was listening on with sympathy."She has always been like a sister to me, but went I went to says hi, she just broke down. Wish I'd met their son, what a fine young man he'd be. Denim, cotton, or silk?" Wesley spoke.

Connor was caught off guard by the question,"Excuse me?"

Wesley let out a hearty laugh,"Denim, silk, or cotton?"

Connor shook his head,"Silk, please."

Wesley nodded,"Let me head in back and grab you those black pairs you insist on." Before Wesley made it to the back, his phone rang. He held up his finger to Connor, who nodded and shoved his hands in his pocket as he waited.

"No! The shipment will be out by- No sir, I did not mean to raise my- yes sir.- As you wish.- I shall be there in two hours." Wesley ended the phone call, as he headed in back to fetch the pants. He offered a small smile toward Connor, as he handed him the pants.

"Leaving again?" Connor asked sadly.

"You can come, if you'd like." Wesley offered.

Connor smiled and nodded vigorously.

After all, who was he to refuse?