If the cap fits, steal it.
What can I say? That day started off worse than usual. I woke up half an hour earlier than planned, my heart thumping like it was trying to break free from my ribs. It wasn't exactly a pleasant way to start the morning.
I trudged into the bathroom, already knowing I should avoid the mirror, but of course, my first stop was right there. The dark circles under my eyes had a way of ruining what would otherwise be a decent enough face.
"Good morning, sweetie!" my reflection chirped, flashing a wide grin.
"Shut up," I muttered, not in the mood.
"Oh, I see you're in a charming mood today too," the mirror smirked.
"If you don't shut up, you'll regret it," I warned, filling my cup with water.
"Come on, I'm just having some fun!" it continued to grin.
"Go have fun with Alex," I said, squeezing toothpaste onto my toothbrush.
"But he is already on his way to school," Berry replied, ever the wise-ass.
"Then spare me and disappear before I smash your mirror to pieces," I threatened, my patience running thin.
Berry sighed dramatically one last time, then the mirror took over my drawn-out expression.
I started brushing my teeth. Sometimes, I wondered if vampires bothered to brush their second set of teeth — though, given how yellow those fangs tend to be, I guessed not.
Even with vampire blood running through my veins, I was lucky. Only my canines were longer than average, and even then, you'd have to be looking closely to notice.
By the time I got to school, I realized I probably shouldn't have bothered getting out of bed at all. The teacher's lecture was so monotonous, that the thought of hurling myself out the window started sounding like a welcome alternative.
On days like these, I had a talent for making sure everyone else shared in my misery. Alice kept glancing at me nervously every few seconds. I was getting closer to the point where I'd stand up, walk over to him, flash a smile, and break his neck with one graceful motion.
But my real fun lay in tormenting Alex. It wasn't new — I was doing it even on good days, so why would today be any different? He was my constant target, my dear roommate, and I couldn't for the life of me understand why he tolerated me despite constantly complaining about my pranks. Not that it was going to stop me. After all, who else would I torment?
Thursdays were usually quieter, with only seven lessons on the schedule — plus, the optional classes were canceled this week, so I only had to endure six, which felt almost manageable.
Finally, Alex and I headed home together. This was important because, with fewer people around, I could actually find some peace of mind next to him.
"What do you want to eat today?" he asked.
Alex had been making a living from music lately. He had this old guitar, but he was also a pro on the violin and piano. He played in all sorts of bars when the chance arose, sometimes even busking for hours at
Of course, he also took any job he could get. Construction sites, shop-loading, cleaning, even bouncing — he'd done it all. He was adaptable and a quick learner. The only problem was, he wasn't employed right now. And God knows why, because he was pretty damn likeable.
Last week, he'd gotten two calls about music gigs, and then... nothing. By Monday and Tuesday, he was stuck being a cashier at a nearby grocery store, but he'd been fired by last night. The reason? A complete mystery.
Things were going downhill for him, which meant one thing for me: overtime.
To make up for it, Alex, ever the optimist, probably decided to cook me something good.
The thought of food made me think of minced meat-and-cheese pasta, but I quickly tossed that idea aside. It wasn't the most practical fantasy when you're broke.
"Whatever," I shrugged.
We got on the bus, showed our passes, and I immediately plopped into the last available two-person seat. Alex dropped his bag on his lap, and I put mine on the floor between my legs. He pulled out his earphones, plugged one into his ear, and I immediately grabbed the other.
He smiled at me and didn't even bother scrolling through his music list, just tapping play. We never argued about the music, since he preferred metal and rock, and I wasn't picky at all. The first few notes of Waking the Demon filled my ears. In hindsight, maybe I should've taken it as a sign.
(...)
It was a lazy, late October afternoon, just a week and a half from the first full moon in November. The world seemed still, sluggish even, as if it were waiting for something that wouldn't come.
Everything was grey: the sky, the city, the streets, the pub, and even the customers. All seemed to blend into a dull grey, mirroring the weight of the rain that had been falling relentlessly for the fourth day in a row. The gutters had long since overflowed, and the water crept up the streets, lapping at my ankles. In times like this, any creature's — human, werewolf, vampire, or even mine — will to live seemed to drain away, swallowed up by the steady stream of wet, muddy slush. Fantastic.
The dreary weather had also taken its toll on the number of customers. By ten p.m., the pub was empty, save for two drunkards snoring at the back corner table. They were regulars, though; rain or shine, they were always here.
The number of rainy days seemed inversely proportional to the number of patrons. I didn't blame the poor souls; if I had the choice, I'd be at home in the warmth, cracking open one of my secret emergency bottles. But with the way things were going, I had to admit we'd be bankrupt before long.
For the past three minutes, my eyes had been drawn to the figure outside, standing just beyond the window. It looked like a child, shivering in the rain, eyes darting longingly toward the dry refuge inside.
When our gazes met — an impressive feat in such dim light and the downpour — the boy quickly ducked behind the wall. I sighed, slipping into my leather jacket and pulling the hood low over my face. The two drunkards wouldn't be looking for me anytime soon; one was rushing to the bathroom with a pale face, and the other was drooling in his stupor. This was my chance.
I crossed the room and stopped by the back door, twisting the doorknob. Stepping out into the cold, rain-slicked platform, I was shielded by the black railing and concrete stairs on either side. The rhythmic drumming of the rain drowned out my footsteps as I moved toward the boy, still peeking through the window. His eyes widened when he saw me, but before he could react, I was beside him.
"What are you doing here, kid?" I asked.
He jumped, startled by my voice so close. He didn't answer but tried to flee, turning away from me. Faster than he could react, I grabbed his wrist and yanked him back toward the door. His protests were feeble, a string of mumbled apologies, but he didn't really say what for.
I didn't care. I pulled him inside before the cold air could slip through the door. Once we were in, I ushered him to the counter and lifted him onto one of the barstools, effortlessly.
Behind the counter, I shrugged off my jacket and hung it up. The boy, despite his earlier panic, didn't try to run. He sat on the soft leather, staring at the polished wood of the counter, never once meeting my eyes.
He smelled of wet fur and leaves. A shapeshifter.
I studied him: tangled black hair clung to his forehead, pale skin stretched tight over the dark bags under his eyes. He looked thin, gaunt even, his ribs almost sharp under my touch when I lifted him. How long had he been starving?
I washed my hands, wiping the mud from them, then grabbed a towel and tossed it over his head, not gently, but not unkindly either. He looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, the bright green of his gaze unsettling. His pupils were vertical — like a cat's.
Cats. I couldn't stand them. They mewed all the time, loved fish, and hacked up hairballs after baths. I made myself ignore the nagging discomfort in my chest.
"Thanks..." he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
I didn't answer. I never did when people needed my help. It was always a problem.
I opened the fridge, grabbed a carton of milk, and poured it into my usual mug. I disappeared briefly into the kitchen to warm it up, and when I returned, I stirred in cocoa powder, turning the milk a rich brown.
I set the steaming mug in front of him. "You'll have to settle for this," I said flatly. "I can't serve alcohol to anyone under eighteen."
The boy, still trembling under the weight of the towel, cradled the mug between his hands. He took a sip, sighing with satisfaction.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"It'll be five hundred."
His eyes shot up at me, disbelief written all over his face. "Pardon?"
"Five hundred for the cocoa," I clarified, holding out my hand.
"I... I..." He stuttered, unable to make sense of his words, repeating a single syllable over and over.
"Listen," I said, growing impatient. "If you want something, just say it. Don't stutter like an idiot."
"I don't have money," he said, his voice trembling.
Before I could respond, his eyes darted to the black door, wide with fear.
"Please... please! They're coming for me!" he cried.
I recognized the familiar scent before I even processed his words.
Geri.
I yanked the boy's torn sweater, lifting him up and over the counter, letting him tumble to the floor. It was just in time. The door swung open, and the hunters filed in, with Geri leading the way. He grinned that bright, blinding smile of his. I forced a fake smile onto my face.
"Hi!" he said, waving.
"What brings you here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"We found the thief. Followed him here," he said casually, scanning the room. "Did you see a kid?"
I felt my pulse quicken. My eyes flickered to the boy behind the counter, who was clutching his sweater tighter.
"A kid?" I asked, playing dumb.
"Yeah. Around a hundred and forty centimeters tall. Black hair. Probably looks pretty beaten up," Geri added, waving his hands in the air like it was a game.
"I don't know," I said, pretending to think. "Nope, haven't seen him."
Geri raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," I answered, hoping the edge in my voice wasn't too obvious.
For God's sake, if they take the problem child away, they won't accidentally forget the shard of life here either—and I would be happiest if Alistair gets the brat with the amulet first and only then hunters.
"Are you sure?" Geri asked.
"Absolutely," I nodded again.
"Then we won't bother you," he said, but I saw the glint in his eyes. And I didn't like his smile either. Geri used to grin like this when he knew something I didn't.
"Goodbye, Shay," Geri said, and with a wave, he turned and left, the other hunters following in silence.
I stared at the door long after they were gone. Then I realized the truth.
"Damn it!" I hissed.
The boy stood, nervously glancing around as I glared at the still-steaming mug with such murderous rage that I wondered why the mug hadn't exploded into a million tiny pieces yet.
"Thanks..."
"Don't be so happy," I growled, "they'll be back."
"Thanks..." he whispered again.
"Don't get too comfortable," I muttered. "They'll be back."
The boy followed my gaze, his face draining of color. He knew. We stood in silence for a few moments before he started to move, eyes flicking nervously toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" I grabbed his wrist before he could take a step.
"I need to leave," he said, his voice shaking.
"No," I said firmly, pulling him back. "You've got me involved, now you start talking. Then I'll decide whether I hand you over to the hunters or not."
He met my gaze but remained silent, his jaw clenched tight.
"Why did you steal the amulet?" I asked.
The boy's fingers curled protectively around the front of his sweater as if I might try to rip it from him. Poor kid, he thought his resistance would stop me. Well, it wouldn't.
"I have to save someone," he said, his voice small.
I had to fight to keep from laughing.
"What?"
"I have to save someone," he repeated.
The phone was in my pocket, and I knew I should call Alistair right away. Never in my life have I been so sure of what to do. What would be the simplest, easiest, and right thing to do. Yet I did nothing, just a quiet, yet hard word left my mouth.
"Scram."
He didn't say anything after that. He simply walked to the door, opened it, and stepped back out into the cold, frosty rain.
A moment later, I saw his green eyes staring through the window again, watching me. He merely gave me another skeptical look, still not sure if I would let him go so easily. Then, just as I was about to turn away, another figure appeared beside him, lifted him up, and disappeared into the night.
It left nothing but the memory of red, burning irises in my mind. Vampires.