SOS: The School of Supernaturals

Even though there was no reason for the Tweet to be false, I was still kind of surprised to see that it was true. I guess I had some sort of paranoia that the Tweeter had somehow detected my reading of the Tweet and decided to make it false, just for a laugh.

See? This is what happens on a bad day. I get paranoid. I was surprised I hadn’t started accusing the entire island of conspiring against me.

It occurred to me as I started to walk up the lengthy driveway path that I may be underdressed. I’d changed once I’d got back in from school; my safe flared jeans, nondescript white V-neck t-shirt and safe black jacket had gone. Instead, I was wearing dark-rinse skinny jeans, the same low-top pair of black Converse from school, a tapestry T-shirt and my motorcycle khaki jacket. I’d grabbed a big set of matching bracelets that had been on my bed post as I’d gone past; black and white pearls with a various assortment of gold charms on them and a black, studded peace necklace. My hair was in an extremely messy bun and I had my sleek, black reading glasses on (when you have my eyes, you have more than one pair of glasses). I’d been thinking about my encounter with Natalia. Suddenly, my peace necklace was very ironic.

I found myself in front of the big white house, the door already open. I stepped inside and found myself greeted by a load of drunken and dancing teenagers.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

I weaved my way expertly through the crowd, trying not to touch anybody. This was weird. Why would a vampire host a party?

I was contemplating whether or not I’d get involved if this was some sort of illegal feed-fest, when I heard somebody call my name over the loud and (crappy) music.

My eyes widened slightly as I spotted Mark Gold pushing through the crowd to reach me.

I was even more surprised at what he was wearing, materialistic as it sounds.

He looked so... Rich. No, seriously. From his clean blue-rinse jeans, to his white-and-navy stripy shirt and V-neck navy jumper, right down to his expensive-looking shoes. His face was glowing, too. Mark Gold looked... Nothing like the guy I had met in the SOS canteen earlier. At all.

He looked much more like one of the It Guys who played sport, where nice as long as they knew you existed (or if not, they didn’t notice when they jabbed their shoulders into yours in the hallway) and had cheerleaders drooling over him constantly.

I eyed Mark up suspiciously. His jumper clung in all the right places. He may play sport. He was nice, but that was (evidently) because he’d noticed me...

Weirder things were known to have happened.

I’d been born, hadn’t I?

“Ray!” Mark grinned happily at me. “You came! I was worried you wouldn’t make it!”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I wasn’t invited. What, am I supposed to automatically become telepathic?” Oh, wow, I was feeling sarky.

Mark laughed.

“Of course you were invited. Everybody was.” Mark’s smile faltered. “Dean invited everyone.”

“Ah.” I nodded my head. “That would explain it.”

“How did you know where to come?” Mark asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

They looked unusually soft. He was either gay, or really into how he looked. Yes, I know that sounds homophobic, but hybrid or not, I am a teenager. We flippantly make such comments.

Let’s face it; I’m hardly one to have phobias or be judgemental, considering my genetic code, am I?

“Twitter.” I allowed myself to smile proudly. “It was a shot in the dark and I was bored, but I needed something to do.” I paused. “Anything to get out of the house.” I muttered darkly, remembering the news.

I eyed a shot of tequila darkly, in the hand of a stranger beside me. Before I had time to contemplate my actions, I had snatched the glass and downed its contents.

I shook my head slightly. Strong stuff. In a good way.

“Is everything okay?” Mark asked me, sounding concerned.

“Fine.” I muttered dryly. To be honest, I didn’t know why I’d mentioned leaving the house to Mark. It wasn’t like we were good friends or anything; not like David and I.

I sighed.

David.

And that stupid-slut-skank-face-whore.

Me? Bitter? That’s absurd...

Mark looked at me for a moment.

“No, you’re not.” Mark said firmly, grabbing my forearm and steering me into another room. I gaped, finding myself unable to protest, though I found myself – shamefully – otherwise occupied.

Okay, now let’s get something straight. As you already know, I am not your girly-girl.

DEFINITELY not the whole “Oh my God, he looked at me!” type. I don’t do romantic optimism. I do realism, to the point where it is classified to the optimists and supposed realists (also known as “closet optimists”) as pessimism. The proof being David.

Oh, great, another problem.

I started to look around, my eyes narrowed in my search for more tequila, Mark still pulling me.

Ah, yes. Back to that.

Right. Now, I’m a realist. I was also, however, extremely aware of my presumed-popular, rich, handsome and fairly nice male friend who was leading me through a strange house, with strange people, to a completely foreign and unknown destination.

But I could still feel his strength underneath the sleeve of my jacket.

Guys tend to not maintain physical contact with me. Which, on the island, is understandable. I’m not just new to the school, but you can tell I’m a hybrid. Or at least not normal (even by supernatural standards). It’s understandable. With Mark, I’d be especially understanding. He saw me in full-on vamp-fury earlier. Of course he’d want to keep his distance.

Yet here he was.

Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to start thinking of Mark in that way or anything. I’m the romantic realist, remember? That wasn’t going to change at any point in my life, no matter what (the only thing that wouldn’t change, by the looks of it...); but you had to give Mark his due. Kid got guts.

I suddenly realized that I was outside and heading towards the back of the garden. Mark’s grip wasn’t as strong anymore and his hand was wrapped around my wrist. Although his pace had only slowed down slightly, he nodded politely to people he knew as we walked past; which seemed to be everyone.

We made our way past aisles of pretty roses, which I doubted would survive the night. As we reached the bottom of the garden, I saw the small, pebbled path leading further down the garden. Mark and I continued to walk on it, finally reaching a secluded and hidden corner of the garden, decorated as if it were a natural rock garden.

It was pretty.

I eyed Mark suspiciously. What was his game?

“Sit.” Mark commanded. I sat in the corner, my back against the cool gray stones. It was like a sort of alcove. Mark leant on the wall next to me and watched me expectantly.

“Now, what’s wrong?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I told you-”

“No.” Mark interrupted. “You didn’t. You just brushed it off, like it was nothing. Well, your feelings aren’t nothing. And obviously you want to talk about it, but you’re too busy taking other people’s feelings into account that you’re not saying anything. Well, you don’t need to. So spit it out, Ray.”

I stared at Mark blankly for a moment.

“You got all of that from one tequila shot?”

Mark smiled wryly.

“Yeah.” Mark crossed his arms. “Now. What’s bothering you?”

There was a small pause.

“Why do you care?” I suddenly blurted out. I shook my head as Mark opened his mouth, knowing that he’d misunderstood the meaning of my question. “I mean, why do you care that I want to talk about it but can’t? It isn’t your problem. You shouldn’t make it so.” I smiled. “I mean, it’s appreciated, but...” I stood up. “It really is nothing to do with you.”

Yeah, so I hadn’t denied Mark’s psycho-analysis (if that was what it was). I don’t know why. Maybe because Mark looked so serious in the dark moonlight. He didn’t look like he was taking any crap.

Or maybe it was simply because I was tired of hiding it.

I’m a weakling, I know.

“You’re a friend.” Mark smiled. “Friends listen, right? It’s what they do.”

I contemplated this for a moment, not being able to comment. David was my only true friend; and even then, though he listened, I always had to lie. For example; Yeah, this vampire Origin called Dean freaked out today because he realized I was inside his head, which was weird, and he knows I’m a supernatural hybrid and now he hates my guts, even though he stopped me from having a giant supernatural bitch-fight slapdown with a training witch didn’t sound anything like what I would have told David; which probably would have been; Yeah, some random Pop Kid got all asshole-ish today because I pissed him off a little. Oh, and some cheerleader tried to start something with me because I got bitchy. See? Nothing of the like.

I looked at Mark curiously. Maybe he could be that friend...

“It’s not really in with the party mood.” I settled on replying, curiously and slowly.

Mark shrugged, smiling.

“The party mood is overrated anyway.”

I smiled back.

I thought back to Mark’s question earlier, about myself. The one I’d managed to dodge.

“It’s complicated.” I sighed, sitting back down.

Mark shifted slightly, making himself comfortable.

“I will attempt to keep up.”

I crossed my arms and watched Mark speculatively.

“How do I know you won’t become horrified and flee, screaming?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Has that happened before?” Mark asked. I shook my head. “Then that’s your own insecurity.” Mark looked at me seriously. “Ray, I’m not going anywhere.”

I looked at Mark.

What had been my thoughts when I’d first met him? When he’d first spoken to me, I’d thought he was addressing somebody else. I’d thought he was hot. Nice.

Maybe it was my own insecurity.

Well, worst first.

“I’m a hybrid.” I said quickly, my eyes gliding from my surroundings to Mark’s face. Mark’s still face.

“I thought so.” Mark replied quietly. “Of what kind?”

I laughed bitterly.

“Not anything you’ve heard of.”

“Try me.” Mark challenged, a friendly smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

I looked at Mark right in the eye. There was no way of getting out of this one.

“I’m a quarter wizard, a quarter vampire and half Quileute.” I watched as Mark’s pretty gray eyes widened in surprise, his jaw dropping slightly. I met his shocked gaze stonily. “But the power of my genes make me predominantly vampire, despite the odds.”

Mark stared at me, unable of speech, apparently.

An immeasurable amount of time passed.

“That explains a lot.”

After a moment to take this in, I burst into laughter, Mark eventually joining me.

“Your parents really didn’t think this one through, did they?” Mark laughed. “No offence.”

I stopped laughing and stared at Mark in astonishment.

“Oh my God, you are officially my new best friend.” I said in a daze.

Mark grinned at me.

“So, Hybrid Ray,” Mark said teasingly. “What else have you got to tell me?”

*

“The thing I don’t get...” Mark sighed, resting his chin on his hand, the arm of which was leaning on his propped up knee. “Is how the hell David has managed to get himself a placement here at SOS. What, is this some kind of programme to try and introduce us to the humans?”

“Hey. We are human.” I replied, stung. “We’re probably more humane than most people out there; especially those damned rednecks.”

“Anybody can be more humane than a redneck.” Mark grinned at me. “Let’s be honest. Are you sure David hasn’t got any abilities or anything? Maybe there’s something special about his family? Ooh, what if it’s hereditary?”

I snorted.

“I think I’d know.” I told Mark. “His dad owns Barnes & Noble. As in, the bookstore. His family is pretty in the limelight. I think something like wouldn’t be able to be kept under wraps for too long.”

“Yeah, but how often do you see the owner himself?” Mark pointed out. “And come on, he’d have the money – and possibly personal resources, shall we call it – to cover himself. Not to mention the connections we have with the outside world. He’d go to the best and the best know about us...” Mark grinned at me. “... Special individuals.”

I snorted. Special was one way of describing it.

“I’ve known the guy since I was in elementary school. Or weren’t you listening?” I pointed out. “The guy can’t be supernatural. It doesn’t take a genius to work out my parents aren’t normal, and David was never bothered by them-”

“- which proves my point further-”

“- so he’s obviously not as street smart as I like to think.” I paused. “Supernatural smart. Whatever.”

“You can’t cancel out the possibility that maybe Mr Reed isn’t absolutely insane.” Mark said, looking at me pointedly. “Sherlock Holmes, remember?”

"Yeah, yeah, I know; when you eliminate all of the impossible, blah blah blah..." I muttered. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose with forefinger and thumb. This was tiring to discuss. “I just really don’t think I can deal with all of this right now.”

Mark looked at me questioningly.

“The baby, you mean?” He asked.

“There’s that.” I admitted. “But there’s everything else, too. I’ve lived here for a while now, but moving to SOS feels like a big change. Like it’s truly hitting home how... Different, I – we – are from everybody else.” I paused, the thoughts coming to me as I spoke. “It’s like... I can remember my life before, before I found out any of this stuff, before I even found out about my parents. In a way, it feels like I sacrificed a normal life for one I’m not even sure if I’m happy with.” I bit my lip, but carefully, so as to not draw blood. The host of the party was a vampire; I didn’t want to push my luck. I was already gate-crashing. “Like a real... I don’t know, something with David. Everything I say to the guy is a lie! And now he’s coming here and it’s just... I don’t know. I just feel so conflicted in my own head. And that is taking out the multiple personality disorders.” I smiled wryly at Mark as he laughed at my joke. Hey, I have a dark sense of humour (it comes with the territory. Ooh, another pun).

Mark paused for a moment, then sat next to me, rubbing my shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, Ray.” Mark said comfortingly, his voice soothing. I felt myself instantly relax. I found my head resting against his shoulder with his arm around me suddenly, and found I didn’t really mind. He was a good guy and I knew he wasn’t picking up the wrong signals. “You need a proper hug?” Mark asked, grinning with his arms open.

I laughed and nodded, trying to hide a sudden rush of emotions. I bit my lip, chiding myself mentally as water came to my eyes. It was stupid. I don’t cry. Now shouldn’t be an exception.

“Now, how about we go and party?” Mark asked me, smiling, when we finally pulled away.

“I don’t think I’m very welcome.” I said truthfully.

“Everyone is allowed to bring a plus one.” Mark said firmly, grasping my arm and pulling me along, despite my dragging feet. I made childish sounds of rebellion, along the lines of “mehh!”. “As from now, you’re mine.”

“You’re ignoring the fact that that’s blatant manipulation. Your plus one can only be someone the host knows, because of the island having only a restricted amount of teenagers around.” It was true. Whilst Syros was open to the entire supernatural populace – and some galactic (every vampire has a relative on Mars. They tend to be the really Stoker types) -, the teenage population was fairly low. New families were arriving all the time – bringing new genetics, too – but they were arriving with their kids being younger and younger. They didn’t want their children to feel a sense of loss, leaving the human world behind. Like I had. Did? “It’s like you’re all betrothed or something.”

Mark snorted, but said nothing.

We went back into the house, which was playing hypnotic rock music. I recognized Time Is Running Out by Muse, the song soon ending. How ironic. A band linked to Goth being played at a vampire party. And not the Halloween kind.

“Oh my God, Mark, where have you been, I’ve been-” Mark and I skidded to a halt as a preppy blonde in a slutty, tight black leather skirt and a low-cut, tight red top in ridiculously high heels and plastered hooker make-up appeared in front of us. Lo and behold, who should it be? But, of course, Natalia. This party just got better and better. How had she managed to score an invite to an Origin party? Then again, how had everybody else? The entire teenage populace of Syros seemed to be here, all of which were definitely not Origins. “What are you doing here?” Natalie asked me, her voice annoyingly high and nasal. You didn’t need a vampire’s temper – or a shifter’s – to want to punch this one.

“Natalia, can you please not do this?” Mark sighed, looking tired.

“I want you out.” Natalie snapped at me, but cleverly did not take a step towards me. Yeah. Yeah, step back, bitch. You know it’s on!

But Mark was looking at me in a very tired and pleading way and he sort of resembled a cute (non-supernatural) puppy. And he had been so nice.

Damn him.

“Hey, I’m here for your own benefit, not entirely mine.” I replied, raising my hands in a peaceful stance. Natalie blanched and I quickly put them down. Oh, yeah. I’d sort of burnt her flames like that earlier. Whoops.

“What are you talking about, you crazy bitch?” Natalia hissed.

“Was that really necessary?” I snapped, before recomposing my face. My sickly sweet voice returned. “And I’m here to help, really. You know what they say; blondes have fun, but brunettes remember it the next day. What you did... Who you did...” I smiled, sure to show all of my teeth.

Natalie gaped at me, while Mark stared at me, stunned.

And it’s like BAM! Natalie – 0. Little Ray – 100.

“Come on, Ray.” Mark managed to cough out, hiding his face. “Let’s get you something to drink. You could use a little sweetener.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take her.” Natalia said, her expression sultry. She looked at me. What, Blondie? Scared? “She has claws. It’s good practice for me to sharpen mine.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it, I really couldn’t. It was obvious that that was intended as a last word, but come on, seriously?

“You go.” I told Mark, still laughing. “I’ll be fine.”

“Uh...” Mark looked, terrified, between Natalia and I. Then again, could I blame him? Not really. He had seen me go full-on Psycho Crazy Bitch earlier, not to mention everything else that he now knew.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.” I told him, forcing my laughter to temporarily subside.

“Anyway, Eric is looking for you.” Natalie told him flippantly. “Go. I’m not going to bite her head off.”

“You? Bite my head off?” I muttered to myself, but didn’t press it any further when Mark shot me an exasperated look.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes, in the kitchen, okay?” Mark told us both, maintaining firm eye contact. Guy means business. “No funny business. Both of you.”

“Define funny business...”

“Ray.” Mark replied condescendingly. “Play nice.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Then I sighed again, told him it was going to be fine and pushed him into the swaying crowd.

Now, I genuinely believed that Natalia would do one of two things. Number one; she would desert me in the crowd and leave me to my own devices. This didn’t seem so bad and honestly, I saw it as an adventure. Exploration of a dead person’s habitat (remind me to explain to you how I can be half-dead sometime). Number two; she would slip something into my drink, or do something else equally nasty. I wouldn’t put it past her. This didn’t actually pose much of a serious threat to me, as my liver would neutralize anything nasty instantly, but it was a surefire way to get me pissed off.

Natalia wordlessly motioned with her fingers for me to follow her and I kept up easily in the thick crowd, following her siren-red clothing and crimped blonde hair; needless to say, my fantastic eyesight helped.

“Here.” We stopped and Natalia threw me a water bottle, which I deftly caught. It was sealed, and my senses didn’t detect anything unusual. I took a tentative sip, suspiciously eyeing Natalia the entire time.

“Have you ever even been to an authentic Origin home before?” Natalia snorted at me, giving me the Manhattan Once-Over.

I opened my mouth to tell her that I lived in one, but said something different instead.

“As opposed to a fake one, you mean?” I asked, cocking my head to one side and temporarily adopting her voice. Sure, I wanted to hit myself for sounding so accurate, but the look on her face was worth it.

Natalia made a noise of disgust and walked on, stopping and looking back at me when I didn’t follow. Falling back into step with her, I smiled smugly into my water.

Only to bump right into her uptight little back.

I was just about to yell at her for the sake of it; but I didn’t. Why, you ask? Because there was a crowd. One that we’d just got sucked into.

Peering over the heads of my fellow party-goers, I saw one girl and two guys. One was shaking violently, glaring at the other, whilst the girl frantically attempted to calm them down.

“Oh, please, that’s not even a kid’s entertainment.” I scoffed; but didn’t bother moving away. I could feel more bodies pressing into me. The crowd was thickening and I was stuck in the middle. Tempting as it was to backhand them all out of the way, I didn’t. I didn’t have the energy.

“Frenchie, calm down!” The girl was screaming to the shaking guy.

“Frenchie?” I repeated. “What kind of an evil parent names their child Frenchie?”

I was ignored.

“Everybody back off, okay?” I heard some guy shout. With a start, I realized it was Mark. He was standing at the front, trying to herd everybody back. “Let’s give them some space, guys, come on!”

“FRENCHIE!” The girl screamed.

Frenchie burst into flames.

“Well, this just got more interesting.” I murmured to myself.

After watching the general commotion this caused, I deduced several things;

One; Frenchie was an Elemental.
Two; He was of the fiery kind, in every sense.
Three; He was pissed, so hadn’t been able to stop the reaction.
Four; He didn’t particularly want to stop the reaction.
Five; He had possibly seen/heard/experienced some sort of love triangle-type thing with the other guy and girl.
Six; The girl was a lying bullshitter.
Seven; Frenchie was unstable.

Mark was caught up in the commotion. I’d lost Natalia and people were moving crazily, hustling and talking loudly, but still relatively calm. Just panicked.

“Ray!” Mark yelled over to me. “Find Dean!”

Now, I’m sorry, but what kind of a thing to say was that? I was the girl who had crashed Dean’s party. So far, I hadn’t felt any repercussions of it, so it was safe to assume that Dean wasn’t even aware of the fact I was in the building/at his home. Why would I, why would I want to go and find the guy whose party I’d invited myself to, after nearly attempting to rip his throat out earlier and alert him of my presence? Why? Unless I was some sort of masochist?

Mark must have sensed my disbelief – or seen the look of utter confusion on my face – because he managed to throw me a frantic plea over the heads of the crowd, before entirely disappearing.

“They’re trying to break into the Vault Room for a duel!” Some random guy told me, shaking my arms. I glowered at him, narrowing my eyes as he extended the same treatment to every other guest he could get his hands on. What kind of friends did Dean have?

But, oddly, I could kind of understand where the guy was coming from. Providing it wasn’t just mob hype, it was pretty exciting stuff.

An Origin’s Vault Room was exactly what it said on the tin; a room, entirely a vault. Origin Vaults tended to be considered as one of the most secretive and prestigious hearts of an Origin’s family home and scarce people had the privilege of going into one and leaving with its secrets. It was unheard of. The Vault rooms had ancestral artefacts, documentation and such things of the like stored there. Each Origin family held important historical keys of the supernatural past in their Vaults, which was why they were so protected.

It was highly unlikely that they could break into Dean’s family vault.

Then again, vampires weren’t known for their love of the sun. And Frenchie was a fire elemental, which held a distinct similarity to the shining star...

The doors of the Vaults were protected with ancient magic, magic casted by the original Founding Mothers and Fathers of the Origin families, the families that made our slightly hierarchal society today. Each family was granted a door, in simple terms, that was meant to protect the Vault. It made branches of families harder to protect and was another complication for modern Origins (though hybrids were still relatively unheard of. Scientific studies were still underway to see which species could interbreed without breaking some sort of genetic code. Luckily, nobody thought it possible yet. Exempt my parents and I, the living proof it – sadly – did work). It could be done, but only with the blessings of one of the Assembly members, usually one of the highest ranking – but politics is never something to discuss at a party, right?!

“Wait, who’s the other guy?” I called to the dude that had shaken me, but he’d disappeared, leaving a trail of dazed and increasingly freaked out people behind him. If someone powerful was fighting Frenchie, with some sort of drawing energy from something like the Sun, it could potentially break through the Vault, if impulsive enough. Some Origin families tended to not protect their Vaults, instead putting their faith in more modern means of security. I didn’t know Dean’s family. But if Dean had been throwing a party, he would have protected his Vault, right? Or would he have left it slightly unprotected, so as to show his friends his history in that elitist manner of his?

I groaned as I realized that Mark was right; I did need to find Dean. Though I was probably the wrong person for the job and other people were looking, it’d be easier for me with my mixed senses to find him, especially in a vampiric household. It’d be as if it were my own home.

I set off by going back the way I’d came. Another reason to hate my parents for conceiving me; I got stuck with jobs like this. I didn’t particularly care if a tapestry rug depicting Dean’s birth got burnt – I’d find it funny to see Dean’s reaction and ancient, magical things tended to burn in a really cool way – but it seemed like Mark was taking responsibility, and if he was taking the rap, I didn’t want him having to deal with Dean in a ruined Vault room after trashing his lineage.

Me and my nobility.

I tried to concentrate, attempting to make eye contact with people in the crowd, searching for thoughts of Dean. No such luck.

“Why not go straight to the main man?” I asked myself quietly. Centering myself, I closed my eyes and focused entirely on Dean; the sound of his voice earlier, his face, the sound of his thoughts in his head...

It took me a few moments. It gave me a killer headache, too.

The third floor, second staircase, fourth left, second room.

I was there in seconds.

I didn’t bother knocking.

I blazed in, finding Dean bent over a girl on the bed. His ass was in the air and the first thing I saw. How lovely for me – not.

“Hate to break up the party,” I said dryly. “But we’ve got a little bit of a situation downstairs that you might be- holy shit!” I yelled, stumbling back for a second.

Because Dean had turned to look at me. And when he had, it wasn’t pretty.

His eyes were black, entirely, his veins protruding around his eyes and lips. His fangs were extracted, blood dripping from them. He hissed at me with venom. But that wasn’t the frightening thing. No, no, it was the bloodlust. The kind of bloodlust that you just didn’t see in a controlled, sane Origin’s eyes.

And what sickened me worse, is that I understood.

I closed the door quickly and tried to breathe through my mouth. The smell of blood was tantalizing and mixed with Dean’s vampire scent, it was even more delicious. Vampires could drink the blood of other vampires, but it was an acquired taste, in a way. People pretended it didn’t happen and wasn’t an attraction, but it was. Human folklore and popular culture was wrong. When a vampire drank the blood of a being, it did not tarnish the being to other vampires. Most hickeys were an excuse for dinner, for goodness sake! No, vampire musk had the same effect as cologne, or perfume, on a being. Some people didn’t react to it. But most did. And God only knows how reactive I am.

“What are you doing here?”

My head snapped up. Standing in front of me and drying his hands on a white towel, Dean stood before me; exiting the room opposite me.

He was meant to be in the room behind me.

Sucking on a girl’s neck with the insanity of bloodlust reigning over the kingdom of his mind.

“What?” Dean asked, seeing my face, which must have been pretty amazing to see, all things considered. “Did I invite you?”

“You’re in the room behind me.” I said slowly, my breathing suddenly heavier than before. “You’re in the room behind me, sucking the life out of a girl, with foggy irises.”

Dean looked at me like I was something on his shoe.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, disgust on his face. “Have you been taking something?”

I shook my head once and silently. Looking into his eyes, I remembered what had happened earlier; how he’d seen me in his head.

I projected the image of what I’d just seen and before I could react, Dean had pushed us both into the room.

But it was empty.

The girl lay, seemingly asleep, on the bed. Blood flowed onto the red sheets, her face milky and calm. Soft wind whispered through the window, the thin, white drapes flickering slowly into the room.

“That window wasn’t open before.” Dean said, his oddly blank. I swallowed, fighting the urge to gag. The room smelt terrible! Mixed with the smell of the girl’s blood was another scent, a lingering one, a foul, dirty smell that left a bitter aftertaste in the back of my throat. The girl’s blood was tarred by the scent and I suddenly wasn’t so thirsty anymore. Dean blinked. “I have to save that girl.” His voice was void of any emotion, as was his face. Neither of us moved towards the bed.

“No.” I found myself saying. Wasn’t there something I had to say? The smell was clouding my judgement. I took a deep breath through my nose and held it. “No, you need to be downstairs. There’s some sort of ruckus going on down there, there’s a couple of unbalanced fire-‘mentals trying to break into your Vault.”

Dean’s face of blankness shattered, pure horror and fury settling onto his features instead. He said nothing, but his mind spluttered, desperate to ask questions.

“It’s no big deal, you’ll just have to go and make them orderly before they hurt themselves on your security.” I told him offhandedly, tentatively sniffing the air again. I gagged and covered my mouth. That made a boys’ locker room smell like freshly baked bread. It smelt like a rotting corpse – no, rotting corpses didn’t smell like that. Not even that bad. Yeah, it was that nasty.

“My security.” Dean murmured furiously, running down the stairs in our inhuman speed. I followed him, not wanting to be left alone with the bleeding girl. Her blood had already started to clot. I should have stayed behind, but honestly? That smell and those lingering curtains were kinda freaking me out.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, standing beside Dean in no time at all. “Calm down, it’s your Vault, it’s probably impenetrable.”

Dean stopped, his face inches from mine.

“Look into my head and find out how impenetrable it is!” He hissed. I narrowed my eyes. That wasn’t necessary, was it?

So I looked into his eyes.

Bloodlust – Father – Vault – Danger – Protect – VAULT!

Once again, Dean backed away, hissing and covering his eyes. Only this time, he wasn’t the only one affected. I gasped for breath as our eyes broke away and shouted, placing the palms of my hands on my temples and doubling over. The pain! It felt like an electrical charge had fried right through my brain, only it was on loop.

I forced myself up and staggered again, as I met Dean’s eyes for a millisecond.

Then a flicker of pictures flashed through my mind, each one bringing more pain. Dean grunted as he forced himself to look at me and I stumbled into a wall, my arms rendered useless beside me.

A dark, black, basement room. Elegant furniture, minimal lighting, everything neat and tidy and organized. A door. Behind the door there was...

I screamed.

Dean had his hand over my mouth before it had even escaped my lips.

I squirmed underneath him. I could take him, but my body was shaking violently. Oh, the eyes, those eyes...!

“Listen to me, listen to me!” Dean was yelling. I kept my eyes closed, thrashing my head. “Hey! Hey! It’s over, okay, it’s stopped – hey! Look at me! Open your eyes! Open your eyes!”

I shook my head, water leaking through my eyelids and onto Dean’s hand.

“Open your eyes.” Dean said firmly, no sympathy in his voice. “It’s not going to help. But you can. That Vault isn’t protected.”

“Then what the Hell are you doing not protecting it and showing me that... That...” There were no words. “... Stuff instead!” I shouted. Dean backed off and I faced the wall, opening my eyes to the wall. I glimpsed at Dean through the mirror on my left and just as quickly looked away. I didn’t want to go back there again.

“I can’t go near the Vault, my parents would kill me!”

“YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD!” I shouted, banging my fist on the wall. Some of it crumbled under the impact. “And don’t even think about telling me I’m paying for that, you asshole! You can pay for my fucking well therapy!” I shouted. My terror hadn’t quite turned into anger, but it was easier to pretend and quicken the process.

“I can’t do this alone.” Dean told me. “What I just showed you-”

“- you didn’t show me anything!”

“ – it’s real, it’s down there. If I go down there, I jeopardize my entire family!”

“Who does that? Who... Who keeps that?” I asked, facing Dean, my eyes blazing. I felt my temperature rise and I knew my eyes meeting his weren’t a problem anymore. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms and neck rise and not because it was cold, or scary.

“You know how many families do.” Dean told me, angry, reasoning and calm all at the same time.

“Not like that!” I spluttered. “Get them out of there. All of them, get them out of this house, now! Why the hell did you even throw this party if you had that sort of a problem?”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Dean roared. “Help me get them out!”

“Fine!” I snapped. “Get out of here.”

Dean stared at me and opened his mouth to protest, but I glowered, my body suddenly shaking again.

“Leave. NOW.” I shouted, creating a roar of my own. I didn’t check to see if he listened.

Shedding my jacket, and shoes, I placed both of my hands on the wall and breathed. I started to sweat almost instantly as I let my emotions take over, moisture dripping down my face. My legs felt as if a million Oompa Loompas were hacking at my muscles with pick-axes, my stomach felt so, so very sore, my arms were on fire and my face was going to split in two.

I felt the heat of my body rise, causing spasms in my legs that almost caused me to crumple to the floor. I heard a sickening cracking noise through the pain and I felt bone tear through the skin at the back of my neck.

Within five minutes, the house was empty of party guests. The students who had been hammering senselessly at the Vault door ran, the crowd screamed and fled and anybody unaware dumbly followed suit.

It was at the very Vault itself, the door slightly ajar, that I felt my body cool down, my hackles rest. My fur stabbed through my flesh as it disappeared and then I was back; a sweaty, crumpled, gasping mess on the cold, stone floor. I couldn’t feel the soothing feel of cotton on my skin and looked down, only to see a black haze where my eyesight should be.

I was suddenly cold. So cold.

The Vault door was slightly open. It’s black door, menacing and graceful at the same time, looked down at me in disdain.

There would be a cloak in there.

Shivering, I was, freezing. I couldn’t stand. I pulled myself towards the door with my fingernails, ignoring the pain, blinded by the haze. My hand would just have to go slightly past the threshold. I’d feel warm... A cloak...

Just as the shadow of the threshold fell on the tips of my fingers, the haze disappeared and a redness appeared.

I felt torn.

I felt rage, pure rage, hot, filling, rage shake the very core of my body. Yet I felt cold, too, so cold.

The fury told me to go into the room and fight.
The cold told me to shrink back and run.

My fingers inched closer.

But then I was being hauled back, dragged back by the base of my neck. I heard noises, inhuman screams and shrieks and whimpering and crying and it took me a moment to realize it was me. I saw a pair of hands throw something over my naked body from behind me; I was sitting in a way that only the small of my back could be seen, but from the door’s perspective, you could see most. I felt myself being dragged away, with an effort, by white hands.

Naturally, I screamed. I screamed and fought until eventually, I fell slack to a set of bright blue eyes.