The Beauty in Ugly
Smashword Edition, License Notes
If you have not purchased this copy of The Beauty in Ugly, then please return it and purchase a copy. The author works hard to produce these works. Thank you. 
This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, incidents, or otherwise are the sole work of imagination. If a resemblance to a person should occur, living or dead, then it is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This work should not be reproduced or transmitted through any means without the permission of Stephanie Campbell.
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The Beauty in Ugly
Stephanie Campbell
Copyright  Stephanie Campbell 2011
Published at Smashwords.
The Beauty in Ugly
By Stephanie Campbell
The party was boiling hot, and London McKay wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. His t-shirt stuck to his skin and he noted how the girls stared at him as he walked by. He did not smile at them, but he was pleased by the attention. It felt good to be here, to be anywhere but home. All that mattered was that he was out for the first time in two weeks.
"London?" a voice said from behind him. "London, hi."
He turned around and grimaced when he saw who it was that had spoken to him. It was his ex-biology lab partner and the girl who asked him out at least once a week. She was stick thin and bony, though he supposed that her wide blue eyes and her auburn hair cut in a short bob could have been considered attractive. It was just that when he was with her, he didn't feel right. The fact that half the school called her Squeal because of her high-pitched voice didn't help matters either.
As he stared at her, contemplating saying hi or just walking away, Squeal stepped forward and pressed her hand on the inside of his arm. He tried to escape, but his back was against the wall. A part of him wondered whether she was about to lose her head and kiss him.
"Squeal, what are you—"
"I just wondered if you were, you know, okay?"
He was silent for a beat. Why wouldn't he be okay? He was always okay. Maybe she was out to get him. 
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, shoving her back. Her eyes widened in hurt. "Why the hell wouldn't I be okay? Who have you been talking to, Squeal? What, have you been talking to my mother?"
Squeal's eyes filled with tears, but she did not walk away. Instead she just stared at him with a hurt expression that made his stomach squirm with guilt. She's out to get you. You turned her down, so now she's digging around in your life. He gritted his teeth and fought down the urge to shove her again. She was a girl. He could get beat up over shoving her, even if she deserved it. But he had to do something.
"Leave me the hell alone, Squeal," he said, stepping in closer and whispering sinisterly in her ear. "I mean it. I don't know what you're doing or what you're trying to prove, but I'm on to you. I know that you're out to get me."
"Out…to get you?" Squeal stared at him. "I don't understand. All I've ever done is like you."
"Yeah, right. I can see it so clearly." He glared at her. "You're mad because I wouldn't take you to prom, so you're trying to dig around in my life and destroy me."
Squeal just stared at him, silent and shaking. A hand dropped on his shoulder and he leapt skyward. He wouldn't have been surprised if some of Squeal's little friends were behind him, ready to do something to him. Yet when he turned to look at who had grabbed him, the only people that he saw were his best friends, Francis and Cole. 
When he swiveled around again to question Squeal, he saw that she had disappeared. He looked around the room for her, feeling his hair stand up on end and his stomach bubble in anxiety, but he did not see her. He guessed that she had gone away to skulk, as well as to plot. He gritted his teeth. Tonight he was going to have to make sure that he jammed his door shut with his chair, just in case she decided to come in to get him. It wasn't like he could lock the door, after his mother took away his key.
As he searched the room, desperate, Cole knocked him from his thoughts by wrapping an arm around his shoulder blade and steering him toward the backyard. "What did you do to Squeal? Were you playing a prank or something? I've never seen somebody go pale so fast."
He frowned. "I was just letting her know that I don't appreciate her following me all the time. I want it to end. Now."
"She's kind of cute, for a stalker," Cole said. "Maybe you should ease up on her a little bit."
Beside him, Francis, thin and wiry and ever the shadow, nodded his head in agreement. That was when his blood ran cold. Oh God. These two are working with Squeal. He pulled away and stared at them with massive eyes. Cole was a big guy. He was six foot seven and weighed at least two hundred pounds. There was no way that he could take him. Francis was small but fast, so he was dangerous as well. He couldn't believe that his friends would betray him like this, and for a stalker girl who was the enemy. London narrowed his eyes.
"London," Cole said, sounding nervous now, "are you okay? You're acting funny tonight. You just got really tense."
Once again, Francis nodded in agreement.
I can't let them know that I'm aware that they're against me. He ran a hand through his hair, nervous. I have to make them think that everything is okay. He forced a smile on his face and nodded, feeling a nervous trickle of sweat dribble down his face and neck. His mouth was dry. This party had been a bad idea. This whole place was filled with enemies.
"I think I'd better get you a drink," Cole said, turning toward the keg in the backyard by a giant tree. Cole went rigid. "Oh, wait. You can't drink, can you?"
In his entire life, London had never drunk anything at a party. But Cole knew that. They had been best friends since preschool. There was no doubt in London's mind then that Cole was trying to poison him. He gritted his teeth, his eyes darting back and forth as he looked for more enemies that could be heading his way. He half wanted to climb up the tree and hide among the leaves, but that would give away his position and Cole would attack. 
Yet it was too dangerous to stay here. Who knew what Cole would do next? London had a peanut allergy. Maybe Cole would try to exterminate him by dumping particles in his coke and then watch him twitch and die. He narrowed his eyes at Cole and then at Francis, his faithful sidekick. Smart. They were very smart. 
"I'm going to go get a soda," he said. One that you can't touch. 
Cole stared at him. "Are you sure that you're okay? The look that you just gave me frightens the hell out of me."
London forced a smile on his face, and Cole stepped back, exchanging worried glances with Francis who shrugged. Turning, London walked to the kitchen and pushed his way through alcohol guzzling partiers. He had just reached the refrigerator when he heard the sound of an angel's voice in his ear. That was when he saw her for the first time. 
She was the most beautiful creature that he had ever laid eyes on, and she was aflame with glowing red energy. It was like she wore a veil of crimson that only he could see. It had been a long time since that had happened, a long time since he had followed somebody because he could see the fact that they were different. But now that red energy was back. He was special again, and this girl was special too.
He stepped forward, coke forgotten, and approached the red draped beauty. Her hair was strawberry blonde and flipped out at the sides, an old seventies style haircut that made her appear even more fun and beautiful. Her bright green eyes shimmered like the leaves of the trees outside in the backyard. The red halo around her, so intense, practically scalded his irises. He wanted her. He wanted her now. The fact that she was surrounded by red meant that he was destined to have her.
As the beauty moved to walk by him, he grabbed her arm and felt electricity burn his senses. The urge to possess her got stronger and so intense that it bubbled inside of him. He smiled at the beauty, and she smiled back, though he felt her arm tremble in his hand. 
"Hello, my name is London," he said. "Please let me get you drink."
****
The beauty's name was Janette Haring, and she was a college student at a different university. She studied philosophy and history, and her favorite color was red. Now, his beautiful angel was also drunk and feeling very susceptible to his prowess, judging by the fact that she had her fingers on his leg. When she leaned in close, as she had been doing a lot lately, he could swear that he was staring straight at a fiery goddess. And suddenly he knew.
He wasn't speaking to a human girl. This was all a test. Her name wasn't Janette. This was Athena, and she was a goddess. A true goddess who had chosen him. He cupped her cheek, stared her in the eye, and smiled. She grinned sloppily back at him.
"You are Athena," he said, studying her reaction.
She giggled. "That's new, but yeah, I'll take it."
I knew it. I just knew it. A smile crossed his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, to be able to see the gods emblazoned in red. Some people didn't believe in gods, but he did. And now he had his proof. He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth, desperate to know what Athena tasted like. It was of strawberries and the lingering aftertaste of alcohol. This did not surprise him. It was only natural that a goddess would taste sweet and would be the flavor of a fruit as red and as sultry as she was.
When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead against her own. "So, my Athena, why don't we go find a place where we can be alone?"
A place where I can have you. 
"Okay, whatever. It's been awhile." She shrugged. "I noticed that there was a shed out front, and since I saw earlier that the upstairs bedrooms are locked, that might be our best bet now."
"Athena, you are as knowledgeable as you are beautiful."
"Okay, you can stop with the Athena stuff now," she said, laughing and shaking her head. "You're already getting to be with me."
Suddenly, he understood. He had said her true name loudly, too loudly for somebody that wanted to keep her identity a secret. His eyes widened and his stomach bubbled with guilt. He could have ruined everything. Athena was married. They had to keep their secret rendezvous just that—a secret. He bowed before her and then gathered her in his arms, breathing into her ear.
"I am so sorry, Janette," he said. "I forgot that you must keep your identity a secret."
She laughed again. "Yeah, okay, lover boy. Let's just go. Not just guys get horny."
Nodding, he seized her hand and began to pull her out of the kitchen. People stared and some smirked, but he didn't care. Tonight he was going to possess the glowing red goddess Athena, the one that most men only got to read about. He was blessed. 
On the way toward the door, however, he met his enemy, Squeal. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked at Athena with a wide-eyed and open mouthed expression. That appeased him. His enemy did not like the fact that he was going with Athena, which meant that his goddess was on his side. He squeezed Athena's hand, and she squeezed back. When London tried to move by Squeal, though, she stopped him and pushed her hand against his chest with massive, fearful eyes.
"Don't go," she said, though she appeared to be talking to Athena more than him, which confused him. "Just don't."
The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he began to panic. He stole a worried look at the goddess at his side, and judging by her furrowed brows, she was angry—likely at him for letting some commoner get in the way of their rendezvous.  
Just when he thought that Squeal had ruined his chances with his goddess, Athena stepped forward and then ran her hand seductively over his arm. A chill danced down his spine as he turned and smiled at Athena. Amazing, he thought, wide-eyed. She was an amazing creature, more beautiful than any that he had ever seen. She did not care that Squeal was there.
"You'll regret this," Squeal said, though she once again appeared to be talking to Janette. "I'm not saying to not go. Just not now. Not tonight."
"He was mine first," Janette said, smirking at her. "Why don't you go play with somebody who isn't taken?"
The color drained from Squeal's face. London was pleased. Leave it to a goddess to knock some sense into the betrayers of the human world. 
"That wasn't what I was thinking." Squeal's fists balled. "I am not jealous. I'm trying to help you."
"Uh-huh," Athena said, running her hand down London's thigh. "That's what they all say. You're barking up the wrong tree."
Shaking her head, Squeal turned and, knocking into people, headed into the backyard, a furious, stomping madman. London stole a look at his glowing red goddess and wondered what to do. She answered the question by seizing his hand and pulling him out the front door. Excitement filled his body as Athena led him toward a small wooden shed peeking out of the side of the house. The door was ajar and revealed that it was filled with gardening supplies like shears and fertilizer. 
The moment that they were inside, Athena threw herself at him, a glowing ball of fire. Her hands touched his shirt, his chest, all of him. He felt as if she was giving him that red energy and filling him with burning fire, unrelenting. He moaned against her lips and felt the need to possess her fill him further. As he ran his hands up her hard, smooth, muscular back, she dug around in his pants and fumbled with his zipper. When she finally got it down, she attempted to pull down his pants by his pockets, but instead she only managed to spill their contents all over the floor.
The first thing that landed was his bottle of pills with the white sticker on the front that said his name, London McKay. He stared at the bottle and froze as Janette bent to pick it up. The goddess didn't need to know about his problems, especially now that he realized that the pills were the work of the government to keep people like him, the ones with special powers, a secret. He didn't intend to take them again—didn't even know why he had had them in his pocket, really. 
"Zyprexa," Janette said, as she examined the bottle. His heart pounded. "This is an anti-psychotic, isn't it?"
She turned and stared at him, wide-eyed. He did not respond.
"That girl back there, maybe she…" Janette's hand shook the bottle. "Maybe she was right. London, did you take your pills? I don't care if you have problems. We all do. But if…"
Once again, he was silent. The glowing red around her flashed even brighter. It was like she was consuming the whole shed with her aura. Panic filled him as he tried to think coherently. Janette—Athena—changed before his very eyes. She wasn't on his side. Of course she wasn't. Red was the color of anger. Maybe it meant that she was the enemy, the one that he was supposed to kill. 
She reached forward and grasped his shoulder, and he watched, horrified, as her hand became bloodied and clawed. When he turned to look at her beautiful face, he saw that it was no longer frail and lovely. She was covered in greasy grey flecks of flesh that wafted off of her face and her skin shrunk around a broken skull. Her hair had tufts missing from it and a dry, flecking scalp covered in crusty scabs shown where the patches were. When she opened her mouth, she revealed the fact that she was missing teeth and had a swollen, grey, dry tongue. Her breath smelled horrible, like a dog's that had been lapping at polluted pond water. Her eyes were grey and unseeing. Empty. Like two cold marbles.
"You." London shook. His mouth twisted in anger at the thought of her betrayal. "I thought that you were Athena. You lied to me."
She gripped his arm so hard it hurt and offered the pills to him. The demon pills, the ones that she had created. "Take them. Take them, please."
An angry roar erupted from his throat. "How dare you? How dare you betray me?"
With a flying leap, he tackled her to the ground and straddled her skinny, festering, dead body. He wrapped his arms around her thin throat and felt her strain to breathe beneath his pressing fingers. She looked up at him, panicked. She drew back her hand and slapped him across the face with her deadly claw, and the place where she had hit him burned.
"I should have known you were out to get me," he said, his heart leaping. "I should have known that you weren't a goddess. Red. The color of blood."
She made a gagging noise underneath him and her eyes bulged from her head, threatening to pop out. That was when there was a loud bang in front of him and he looked up and saw glowing white light. Heaven. Was he seeing heaven? That was when that light was accompanied by a blur of dark brown and then pain as he landed on the floor with a grunt. Janette gasped at his side and choked. Kill her. Possess her. He had to. Everything in his being told him that.  
With a scream of rage, he leapt to his feet and attempted to straddle Janette again, but two strong arms fasted around his waist and held him back. He heard heavy panting in his ear, and when he looked down, he realized that the dying, decaying corpse was no more. Instead Janette lay on the ground at his feet, arms spread open wide, her face pale. 
"What is wrong with you?" Janette asked, tears pouring down his face.
"You're a monster," he said. "I saw you. You're hiding yourself."
"No, she's not. Look around you, man. Look."
That was when he realized who held him at his waist. Cole. It was Cole. The traitor. Or was he? Confusion and nausea filled him as he looked at the shed's threshold and saw Squeal with Francis at her side. He let out a half gasp, half cry as Squeal helped Janette to her feet and Janette backed away until her butt hit the far wall. There were bruises, fingerprints, on her neck that had already begun to swell. 
Real…What's real? He buried his face in his hands and tried to calm himself. Tears of frustration threatened to fall. There was the sound of something small being shaken, almost like a baby's rattle, and when he opened his eyes, an orange bottle filled his vision. It was Squeal, offering the pills to him. He looked at all his friends' faces, horrified, as his heart pounded and his mouth grew dry. He stole a frightened glance at Janette. Real or not, he realized that he never wanted to see her become a monster again. He took the bottle from Squeal and popped pills into his mouth.
###
About the author:
Stephanie Campbell is a novelist in Ogden, Utah, where she lives with her family and too many dogs. Her interests include history, traveling, classic movies, and biographies. She published her first book at seventeen and has continued to write with the goal of being a career novelist. She is the author of the novels Poachers, Dragon Night, Tasting Silver, Keeping Freedom, Late but not Never, Case Closed, Icy Tales of Draga, E is for Eternity, Specimen X, and P.S. I Killed My Mother, all of which are being published or have been published by traditional publishing houses.