Vincent sat up in bed, wiping a palm across his sweaty forehead, his breathes heavy and eyes wide. It was that same dream. Did it have something to do with his werewolf being?

  Even more bizarre was that he had healed up. Besides the anxiety and cold sweat from his crazy dream, he felt fine. Refreshed, even.

  It was just as Shay Grave had said. A good night’s rest had helped.

  But this recurring dream that Lucian had told him about was worrisome. The thought of that beast stalking him in his own dream made him shiver. How was he supposed to overcome something like that? And, what if it caught it in his dream. He leaned against his hand, smiling like an idiot as he let out a crazy cackle. “I’m going nuts, that’s what.”

  He had to figure out what to do about, if anything. And since everything was a mess, and he was too much of a coward to face his parents after the night before, he had rushed out of the house without lunch, so he was a bit curious when Isabel invited him to join her for lunch after their regur morning csses. While he had forgotten his own lunch as he rushed out of his house like a pathetic coward, he couldn’t say no to her, right? So he’d just have to sit and watch her eat and smile broadly.

  Besides it wasn’t like he could turn her down as she was his first friend. He could have always purchased his own lunch from the cafeteria, but he had no money, either, as his parents were the supply on that front. Sigh.

  As he moved down the hallway, hands in pockets and head held low and sulking, he saw Isabel approach him with a bag that looked much too big for her.

  “You hungry?” she asked, lifting the bad with a big smile as if presenting something special to him.

  He didn’t know what to make of this, so he just nodded, and she grabbed his hand and pulled him in a direction.

  Moments ter, he and Isabel sat against some lockers watching students walk by. Vincent stared down at a pstic food container with rice and curry in it that Isabel had given him.

  “You made all this yourself?” he asked, blinking with amazement, his stomach making an audible growl of anticipation.

  “Mm-hmm,” she said with a big nod. “I hope you enjoy it.”

  He took the pstic spoon in a shaking hand, his mouth open like an idiot, and licked his lips. His stomach lurched for him to feed. But he had to admire it for a moment.

  On one side of the portioned perfection was some white rice, and on the other side was the hearty and thick curry with pieces of carrots and potatoes and chicken that looked like they had been simmered to savoriness. He gulped, taking in the scent of garlic and butter and all the wonderful spices she had combined in the delectable dish.

  “You’re a life saver, Issy,” he said, spping and rubbing his hands together with a little nod of thanks. Then, he dug in with delectable fury. It was the most delicious, appetizing thing he ever had. He was so focused on eating that he hadn’t noticed Isabel tilting her head at him, those dark eyes with glowing red rings staring at him with curiosity.

  “So,” she said. “How is it?”

  He gulped down a rather rge bite, feeling a bit of pain from not chewing but also pure pleasure at having a meal instead of starving for the day. He wanted to cry – was that a tear of joy hanging from his eye? – “It’s great!”

  “I’m gd,” she said, closing her eyes with a broad smile.

  He scarfed like there was no tomorrow, getting close to finishing it off when she pulled out two jugs of orange juice.

  “Here,” she said, handing him one.

  He didn’t waste time, and ripped of the cap, kicking the bottle back and downing it in several rge gulps, letting out a thirst-quenching noise and wiping his mouth clean. It was so fresh, so pure, so good that part of him felt bad drinking it so fast, but it was like liquid nectar. Part of him felt bad for devouring the food and drink so quickly, but he was so hungry, so thirsty that he couldn’t help himself.

  He hadn’t noticed before, but her orange drink was different than his. It had a red hue and a thickness to it that orange juice usually didn’t have.

  As he peered at the thick reddish, orange liquid, he had a sinking feeling that he knew what made it red and thick. “W-what is that?”

  “Oh, this?” she said, shaking it up a bit, the thick red liquid and orange juice blending in an odd manner that made him think of cooking oil and water. “This is bloody orange juice.”

  “Blood-y? orange juice?” he said, his mind taking a moment to connect the dots. “Is that like a different version of blood orange juice?”

  “No,” she said, chuckling and shaking the bottle some more as she stared at it in an admiring fashion. “It’s synthetic blood made with a particur type of orange juice that mixes well.” She opened the cap, and took several rge gulps, then leaned back and closed her eyes, letting out a gratifying sigh with a fsh of fang as she licked a little dribble trying to escape the side of her mouth.

  Vincent gulped, rubbing the side of his neck as he imagined a monster sneaking into his bedroom and sinking its fangs into his neck, slowly sucking him dry of his lifeblood like the vampires of myth. It made him shiver.

  “What’s it like?” he asked. “Being a vampire. You know, like drinking blood?”

  “I don’t know,” Isabel said, looking up at the ceiling, hand across her forehead. “Like living. It may seem strange to you, not knowing all this growing up, but it’s not any stranger to me than a human being eating meat.”

  “Hmm,” Vincent said, realizing the logic in that. Still, he was curious. “But you can walk in the sun, right? Aren’t vampires supposed to be, like, allergic to it?”

  She giggled. “No, not allergic. More like a weakness. It burns most vampires.”

  “But not your type,” he said, “Uh, Dawn Vampires?”

  “Nope.”

  “How does that work?”

  She looked thoughtful. “That’s a long story that will take some time to expin.”

  “Well,” he said, looking at the clock, seeing that they only had a little bit longer before the lunch hour was done. “What about food. Is blood the only thing you can have?”

  “No,” she said. “Synthetic blood alone doesn’t sustain life. I also have to eat food and drink water and sleep and all that, just less. At least Dawn and Crimson Vampires, not Prevalents or elven vampires.”

  “Elven vampires?” Vincent said, blinking. “How many vampires are there.”

  “That’s about it.” She swished the bottle of bloody orange juice around then downed the rest in a quick gulp.

  “Have you ever,” Vincent said, feeling cautious. “Drank human blood?”

  She fastened the lid back on. “Nope. Never. I stay away from actual blood as it can be highly addictive, and I have enough to worry about.” She seemed to be thinking about things as she gnced at her hand with a sad smile. “And synthetic blood has been engineered to near perfection in terms of providing what vampires need to sustain their life force. So, why take the chance?”

  “I don’t know,” Vincent said, gncing at a group of students walking by, wondering what kind of beings they were. Also wondering how they could get away with all their magical and supernatural feats in the middle of the day, like jumping off the roof, and not have passersby stop and wander and wonder. “Alcohol’s a risk, so is eating sugar and junk food.” He paused, going red for a bit. “Even sex… we do them because they feel good, right?”

  “Um,” she said, eyeing him with raised eyebrow. “So you’ve had personal experience with these sorts of risks, then?” She had a pyful smile on her face.

  “No, no,” he said, waving his hands in protest. “I’m simply saying some things in moderation are worth the risk, right?”

  “Moderation…?” She said, raised eyebrow maintained. “…Right.” And with that, it was settled, at least with her.

  “Also,” he said, changing the subject. “What do you have to worry about?” And with that, it was settled, at least with him.

  “A lot,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, shoving the orange juice bottle and empty food containers in her backpack.

  “Care to eborate?”

  “Nope,” she said, standing up and stretching.

  For a moment, Vincent could have sworn that she was upset, agitated, even. But he wasn’t able to quite pinpoint it, just felt it, sensed it, smelled it even. It was weird feeling, but he sure wasn’t going to push it. He was curious about his earlier thought, though.

  “How do we all get away with all this stuff here, in broad daylight, around human beings. And, are all the students here supernatural beings?” He had to know, as he had no idea about it. Granted, even though the school was quite rge, there weren’t a lot of students to fill it, like a typical high school of this size.

  “With magic, of course,” she said with a wry smile and chuckle. From the look he gave her, she waved off her joke, realizing she shouldn’t have been joking with the clueless newbie, even if that look he gave her was super adorable, like a lost child at the swimming pool, thinking his parents had abandoned him. “Well, all jokes aside, it is magic, in a sense. A sort of hex and enchantment combined to make it appear normal to humans, or just like a random business building that no one has sense to visit, and if they do, arms go off and it is taken care in certain ways.”

  “Taken care of?” Vincent asked thinking that perhaps they were eliminated or something. He didn’t want to push it, as that at least gave somewhat of a clearer answer.

  “And, yes,” Isabel said, looking off into the distance. “It is an all-supernatural building, save for a unique human being here and there.”

  That was weird. What made those human beings unique? Were they like his parents. Again, he didn’t want to push it anymore, as that sufficed for now.

  “Ready to go?” She asked, tilting her head at him and giving a warm smile as she extended her hand to help him up.

  This Isbel girl was quite friendly, and he was thankful to have been saved by her lunch offering, so he certainly wasn’t going to upset the order of things by pushing an issue he had a feeling about. He did wonder why she had an extra lunch, though. Did she always have one with her, or was this a special occasion? While he did think she was cute, in a way, she wasn’t really his type, nor style, and part of him felt bad about that, sensing that perhaps she liked him or something, but he pushed that away before he let it get out of hand.

  “Sure,” Vincent said, still thinking on many things. Like how she pulled him up as easily as picking up a towel from the ground. At least it appeared that she put no effort into it whatsoever. Her strength was something to behold, and made him wonder what kind of power she had. It was enough to fall from the roof to the ground of their school, and be totally fine. Gulp. “How do you deal with all of this stuff?”

  “Deal?” she asked, tilting her head in a confused manner. “I was born this way. Lived with it my whole life. You were dropped into it, so I don’t think I’m the best person to give perspective on that.” Then again, she had had to deal with other things, so many things. Like her sister, and her particur family situation, and just… stuff. Should she tell him those things? No, it wouldn’t be right to burden him with that kind of crap when he already had so much stuff to deal with. Maybe she’d divulge some ter. And, besides, she wanted to take things slow, build a friendship, and then maybe something more could happen as he was quite handsome.

  She stretched her arms above her head again, yawing widely, fangs revealed in the motion. “I think you’ll figure things out as time moves on.” She smiled, holding her eyes on his face for much too long.

  “Yeah, probably.” He hesitated for a moment, thinking about that fsh of fangs, but shook it off and nodded.

  Isabel seemed happy as they made their way back to css, side by side.

  “Hey,” Vincent said, which got her to stop and turn to him. He felt he would never get used to those bck sclera and red-ringed irises.

  “Hmm? What is it?” She said, tilting her head.

  “I just,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Thanks for the meal.”

  She beamed at him. “I’m gd you liked it.”

  They both continued down the hallway.

  “You’re like the nicest werewolf I’ve ever met.”

  “Have you known a lot?”“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, bowing her head as if remembering unwanted things.

  “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

  She shrugged. “Bad luck tends to follow me, especially involving werewolves. I tend to be a magnet for their attention.”

  Vincent rubbed a hand against his chin. “I wonder why that is?”

  She knew exactly why that was. She was weak, and helpless. Not like her sister at all. She wished she could be more like Alicia. Werewolves were also tough, and strong. They liked girls that were sassy, sexy, and independent. She was none of those things. But maybe she could be to Vincent. Maybe he’d like her.

  She shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it. Besides, I think that will change from here on out, after meeting you, that is.” She looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

  “Oh yeah, why is that?”

  “You’re different,” she said. “You’re… nice.”

  “Thanks?” Vincent said, not sure if he should be pleased with the compliment or worried. He also wondered if all werewolves were like Acard, then? Which didn’t make sense because Mr. B didn’t seem so bad. He wondered what sorts of werewolves and situations Isabel had encountered. Was he different because he was a newbie, or because of his nature?

  “Why didn’t your parents tell you that you were a werewolf?”

  That came out of nowhere. Yet, it was a pertinent point. Why hadn’t they told. What was the reason for it? He knew that they had instructed them to not tell him until now, but why? He didn’t know how to respond. “I-I don’t know.” He felt himself get a little frustrated at that response, angry even. “They cimed it was because my actual parents entrusted them to do so.” And it just didn’t make sense. It happened all the time in stories and movies and books, where one character kept an important thing from another character to protect them, and it always blew up in their face, especially when said character found out the truth and felt lied to. Vincent felt the same. Why couldn’t they have just told him when he was a kid?

  Why! He had stopped and clenched a fist, and when Isabel pced a soft hand against him, he met her eyes and shivered. He would never get used to looking into them, and yet, he couldn’t look away.

  “So, your parents you are living with aren’t your actual parents?”

  “Nope,” he said with frustration, feeling sad at this.

  “So,” she said, tapping her finger against her chin, looking forward. “Who, and where, are your parents then?”

  “Dead.”

  “Dead?” she said, shocked at this answer. She shifted her weight and leaned toward him, hand pced against his again, an emphatic look in those dark eyes. “I’m… I’m so sorry about that.”

  Vincent shrugged. “It’s not a huge deal. I didn’t even know them.” Yet he still felt angry, betrayed, sad. He also didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “While it’s a lot to take in, I’ll figure it out.”

  “Hey,” she said, touching his arm gently, her tone tinged with kindness. “If you need anything, like to talk, or anything at all, let me know, okay?” She tilted her head, and the way she looked was so adorable.

  He couldn’t help but blush. “Yeah, sure.”

  They made their way around a corner, Vincent continuing his thoughts. “It woulda been nice to know, though. Would have helped make a lot of sense out of the weird things that happened during my childhood. I can’t count how many arm clocks I’ve accidentally destroyed, among other things.” He chuckled at that thought. All of this was completely crazy. He rubbed a hand through his hair, slowly surrendering to the surrealness as it seeped over him. “I’m a beast, I’m actually a beast.”

  “No, you’re not,” Isabel said with a stern tone that a teacher might have taken. “That only happens if you let the Beast Mind take over. You are the master, not it.”

  “How can I be a master over something I don’t know anything about?” Vincent thought back to when the Beast Mind had been mentioned before. Was it the Beast Mind making him lose it, or just the realization of the truth of this crazy new reality and his monster being? He did feel as if his heart was racing, his blood pumping faster, his body wanting to unleash for some reason. And yet, as she held onto him, met his eyes, pulled him away from the crazy thoughts, he was able to calm himself, catch his breath, and maintain a sembnce of cool.

  “Werewolves are not beasts, even if some act that way.” She was talking about Acard, wasn’t she? “We all have a choice, all beings – vampires and werewolves alike. Just because you have the capability of killing doesn’t mean you have to engage in such animalistic behaviors. You’re still a human at heart.”

  Vincent smirked. “Tell that to Acard.”

  Isabel ughed. “That’d be something.”

  “You know, you’re really smart,” Vincent said as they arrived to cssroom 412.

  Isabel blushed. “T-thanks.”

  “What is the Beast Mind, exactly?” Vincent asked.

  She blinked, meeting his eyes, then looked away, cheeks red at his intensity. “It’s kind of like an alter ego, vying for control over your mind and body – what we beings call your essence. It’s always there, running in the background, waiting for you to lose your cool, to become enraged, and emotional, and when you do, it relishes that moment and lets loose, leading to a sort of berserk behavior that wants nothing more than to engage in all sorts of carnal desires and sinful, destructive behavior.” She gathered her strength and met his eyes again, not necessarily in his eyes, but at his face, her cheeks pink. “Giving into your Beast Mind is like a hit of pure pleasure, a sort of high that makes you feel as if you are floating in a state of etion that pumps through you as you give into the feeding nature that is the Beast Mind. If you give into it, it can turn into a wild ride until you awake in a random location, with little to no memory of what happened when the Beast Mind was able to take over. And it won’t stop until its hunger is satiated.”

  “Oh, is that all?” He said with a chuckle, feeling his chest and throat tighten at that thought.

  “No,” she said, her eyes intense. “But you’ll learn more about it in css. Vampires have something simir known as a bloodlust, where we have to keep track of our blood bance, which is essentially making sure our blood intake doesn’t get too low, that our thirst is satiated, or else we can also lose control, becoming monstrous and beastly, wanting nothing more than to suck the lifeblood from other beings, giving into animalistic urges and rageful states if the thirst isn’t satisfied.” She looked down, not out of embarrassment, but more out of… what was that, guilt? Remorse? Had she experienced a… bloodlust?

  “Geeze,” is all Vincent could manage, rubbing his hand slowly through his hair. “That’s… intense.”

  “Not if you have a handle on it.” She said, lifting her eyes to him again, strong and fierce, an energy he had seen from her if only for a few moments. A potential. Granted, she had this swinging nature of emotions to her – one minute she was shy and embarrassed or seemingly upset, another minute she was confident and proud. “And you need to get a handle on it, because if you think it was hard to control it just from being overwhelmed, wait till you actually have a fight with Acard.”

  Gulp. Her intensity, as he stared into her eyes, was palpable. He felt pulled to her, unable to look away, frozen in the stare. Until she blinked, which let him find his breath, and movement of body. It was simir to what had happened with Shay Grave. Was what happened some sort of vampire ability? No, perhaps he was just in a state of shock and awe.

  At the same time, the thought of Acard made his blood boil. “If I don’t stand up to him,” Vincent said with a clench of his fist. “He’ll never leave me alone.”

  She leaned back, folding her arms, judging. “That wasn’t me encouraging you to fight. It was me giving you a word of warning to be careful.”

  While Vincent was a newbie, her didn’t agree with what she said. He was a part of this supernatural freakshow now. Which meant making his own decisions, and coming to his own conclusions based on his experiences. And when it came to Acard he knew he’d have to confront him. It was the only way. He stared at her, taking in what she had said, but let her know his own truth. “Yeah, I know. But this is something I have to do.”

  They both turned and entered css.

  .   .   .