Bloodlines

The blue SUV came to a clean stop—which was surprising considering the massive road rage the driver suffered from. But in a crowded parking lot with too many pedestrians to hit—and not enough space to gun it—there was only one way to handle their situation: drive like a normal dad.

“First day of school,” The dark-haired driver sighed pointedly. His heavily lidded eyes watched the two girls in his back seat.

“Dad,” The redhead groaned, “Don’t do this.”

“My baby is starting her second half of high school. I have the parental right to do whatever I want, Eliza. Don’t you agree, Dan?” He quipped with a snarky grin to the graying blonde man in the passenger seat.

“I’m not your baby; I’m the oldest of two.” Eliza muttered, smiling despite herself. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

“I’m going to throw up.” The stern-faced blonde seated next to Eliza finally spoke up; her English accent seemed so out of place. “Can we go now?”

“Sentiment is Janey’s kryptonite.” Eliza reached out for the blonde, “Run before we infect you. God help us.”

Jane swatted the hand away, rolled her nearly black eyes. “I’m going in.” She responded shortly before exiting the car.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Eliza commented as they all watched Jane storm off into the crowd of students.

“My daughter isn’t very happy with me at the moment.” Dan pursed his lips, “If she hadn’t failed all her A-Levels and dropped out of school we wouldn’t be in this situation. She only has herself to blame.”

Eliza pressed her lips together, giving her father a look before vacating the car as well.

“Have a good day, Liza.” Her father called as he lowered the window. Eliza bowed her head, trying to ignore him as she stepped up on the concrete.

“Tell Janey I won’t be here when your father picks you up.” Dan’s command caused Eliza to turn her head, no longer giving any attention to what was in front of her. Seconds later she found herself colliding into a hard, leather-clad body. The shock caused her knees to buckle, and warm, callused hands caught her by the elbows. A biker helmet went crashing to the floor.

“Sorry,” The boy breathed, “I didn’t see you there.” His almond-shaped brown eyes seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Why don’t we both take fifty percent of the blame.” Eliza suggested with an easy smile.

“I can live with that.” He released her with a nod and a sly grin of his own. “Scott.”

“No, but good try,” Eliza rebutted, “I’m a girl and that is most definitely a boy’s name.”

Scott furrowed his dark brows, “I know. It’s my name.”

Eliza pursed her lips, her green eyes gleamed, almost embarrassed, “Sarcasm. You should read up on it.”

“Right,” Scott let out an uncomfortable laugh, “You would think I would catch up a bit faster. My best friend lives and breathes that stuff.”

“Hmm,” Eliza began to back away, “I guess I’ll see you around, Scott.”

They were both left with an awkward feeling, hoping they most certainly did not meet again. But, something else was causing the hairs up Scott’s spine prickle—like a predator was lurking about. It had been months since he’d felt this way and he hadn’t missed the crushing, constant feeling of fear in the slightest.

Scott hunched over, snatching up his helmet. A blue SUV was stationary behind him. The tinted windows hid their identity to most, but Scott could see them clearly. Without recognizing them, he hurried off, not wanting to be late on his first day. He wasn’t going to get mixed up in any of that this year. It was a new year, a new Scott. No drama, supernatural or otherwise.

Scott hurried off. The two men in the SUV watched the dark-haired teen race off into the double set of metal doors.

“Remember when they used to be men? Real men. Not these hormonal teenagers who can barely shave. Doesn’t the resident Alpha have any sense of tradition?” Dan begrudged. “People have no regard for tradition anymore, Arnold.” He lazily glanced at the blank-faced driver. “I think we’ll have to do something about that.”

Arnold shifted the car into drive. Now that the parking lot was mostly empty, he sped out, leaving the faint smell of burnt rubber in their wake.



Eliza scurried into the crowded English classroom. There was no teacher at the desk so she wasn’t worried about being marked tardy. She was, however, concerned with where she was going to sit; there weren’t very many open seats. She appreciated their lack of interest in her; the last thing she needed was the cliché high school new girl scene where everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her like they couldn’t believe someone existed in other parts of the world and moved to their city.

There were two visibly empty seats from Eliza’s view. The one closest to the door on the corner, and one directly in front of Scott, the biker boy she ran into that morning. Not wanting a repeat of their awkward encounter, she slipped into the corner seat just as a pretty brunette came through the door, slightly out of breath. Eliza noticed she shared her own disdain of residing near Scott because she sat there with a heavy presence and a visible grimace. Once the brunette sat down, Eliza’s attention went to her phone.

In fact, everyone’s did. With a cacophony of buzzes and alert tones, students pulled out their cell phones.

A longhaired brunette with a soft complexion rattled off the message aloud in a small, but authoritative voice. Her attention then fell to the chalkboard that Eliza had thought were things of myth, like unicorns and werewolves. In neat, cursive writing the name ‘Ms. Blake’ appeared in white chalk.

Someone entered the room, interrupting Ms. Blake’s introduction and inquiring for Scott McCall. Scott stood up, grabbing his things, and exited the room with the teacher. She returned a few moments later without him and delved right back into her monologue.

Something about Heart of Darkness was scribbled underneath Ms. Blake’s name, but Eliza’s attention fell towards the wall of windows to her left. And she wasn’t the only one to notice a wall of black coming their way. A shorthaired brunette boy with large brown doe eyes and a pointed nose stopped his whispered conversation with a strawberry blonde as something dove its body into the window, leaving a smear of crimson.

Ms. Blake stopped her lecture mid-sentence and made her way to the window, as if she needed a closer look to concur that hundreds of ravens were on a suicide mission. Eliza stood up abruptly as the first wave hit the glass full-force. She froze as the glass shattered as the next wave (and continuing waves) of ravens entered the classroom, attacking students and Ms. Blake.

The students hit the ground, huddling under desks or in their companions’ arms. Nobody tried to shove Eliza out of the way of the attack because no one knew who she was. She put up her arms to cover her face in self-defense, but nothing ever came her way. Razor sharp beaks and glass shards were pelting all the kids around her, but Eliza stood in the thick of it, completely unscathed.

Eventually it ended. The ravens either fell to the ground dead, or flew off. The students picked themselves up from the destruction and surveyed the remains of the classroom. Ms. Blake looked on the verge of an emotional breakdown. It was her first day after all.

The brown-eyed boy picked up the strawberry blonde carefully, concern written over his face. His eyes took a journey around the room to assess the damage. He caught sight of an unharmed redhead on the other side of the room that he didn’t recognize. She was checking her arms and face for open wounds.

Eliza looked up in hopes that she wasn’t the only one virtually unharmed. Instead, she found the doe-eyed boy staring directly at her. He was gaping at Eliza in a manner that suggested he was a bit too blown away by her uninjured presence. However, if someone had asked him why he was rudely gazing at the redhead, it wouldn’t have been because she was walking away from this event without a scratch. It had much to do with her eyes glowing an unnatural color of gold that he’d only ever seen Scott’s undergo.

And once that faded away, her eyes were a dull green color that couldn’t possibly have created gold by any trick of light.

Before the doe-eyed boy could interrogate Eliza, she had snatched her backpack and slipped from the room, no one being the wiser.