Not every battle is worth fighting, and not every life is worth sacrificing.
Jo had dark circles under her eyes and was silent all day. At first, we weren't worried, but this had been going on for a week. After the third class, she even disappeared. There was nothing to be done, Alex was quite clearly poking his head towards the door, so with a sigh, I went to search for the human girl. I headed straight for our secluded little bench. Jo was indeed, sitting alone in the cold.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting down beside her.
She sighed but didn't answer. I nudged her playfully in the side with my elbow.
"Nothing," she sighed.
I was not really satisfied with the answer. But before I could open my mouth to speak again, Jo stood up and left me. She stood up and left me. Without a word or a goodbye. I pursed my lips into a sharp line.
I stood up and walked as grimly as possible back to the school building. Jo didn't come in for her next class, she must have gone home. Well, that didn't really improve my mood.
"How was it, mate?" Alex asked.
He wasn't really bothered by the fact that it was the middle of physics class. Neither was I when I walked into the classroom, but whatever.
"She refused to tell me anything," I said.
"Women," Alex sighed, then slid closer, "So, what did you do?"
I raised my eyebrows.
"Nothing."
Alex frowned. "Come on, mate, you can tell me, I won't judge."
Says the prejudiced werewolf who hates all dark mages. Sure, I get that dark mages sometimes like to use werewolf entrails for their potions, but not all of them.
"So, what did you do to hurt her?"
Alice asked from the table behind us.
"Nothing," I growled, "I really did nothing."
My two friends looked at each other in disbelief, but I didn't care.
(...)
"Gangster!" a guy called out triumphantly.
"Close, but not close enough," the Weasel smirked, shaking his head.
The group of youngsters finally grew tired of guessing and, in a typical display of youthful energy, shifted their focus to trying to buy out the entire stock of drinks in the pub. I stepped outside for one last round, intent on grabbing a quick cigarette. Of course, the Weasel had the same idea, strolling into the moonlight just as I was about to light up. I tried to ignore him, lighting my cigarette and taking a slow drag.
"Got a light?" he asked.
I considered tossing my lighter onto the ground for him to pick up, but, gritting my teeth, I handed it to him instead.
He took the cigarette between his lips, lit it, took a quick puff, then handed it back to me without a word.
"Why don't you just tell them?" I asked casually.
He chuckled softly. "What would be the fun in that?"
I sighed deeply.
"What if I don't want them to know?" he said, and then added with a hint of mischief in his voice, "After all, how many enemies do you think I'd make if they found out I was working for Behemoth?"
I didn't answer, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.
"I'm starting to like these guys," he added, his voice lowering a little. "It'd be a real pain if they turned on me because of one secret."
His confession took me by surprise. For the first time, I understood what he meant. I wondered how much it would affect them if everyone knew who my father was.
I smoked the rest of my cigarette in silence, the conversation leaving an odd taste in my mouth. Without a word, I stepped back into the suffocating air of the pub. A bitter, resigned smile tugged at the corners of Weasel's lips. We both knew we'd never be friends—but that was never his choice to make.
As I slid a bottle of beer across the bar to a customer, the all-too-familiar scent hit my nostrils. I could still hear the guy muttering his thanks, but I didn't pay it any mind.
The black-haired girl made her way quietly from the door to the bar, slipping onto a leather-covered stool with surprising grace. I turned to the next customer, ready to shift my attention.
"How may I help you, miss?" I asked, flashing an inviting smile.
Coffee looked up at me, confusion written on her face. It was clear she hadn't expected to find me here.
"Do you work here?" she asked, glancing around as if trying to make sense of the situation.
It was a really obvious question, so I didn't answer. Maybe she thought she was in the wrong place, but then she decided to ask just in case because she spoke again.
"I've heard there's a monster here..." she said, lowering her voice, "who does things for the right price. Do you happen to know who it is?"
I let a predatory grin spread across my face, nodding in acknowledgment. Coffee's eyes widened in disbelief, and she studied me for a long moment.
"So, you mean to tell me I came all the way here to meet you?"she asked, incredulity lacing her voice.
"It seems so," I replied, leaning back slightly.
"Why do you do it?" she asked, "I didn't think you moved in such circles."
I shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a side hustle."
I'm not saying Coffee had her world shattered, but she had a more nuanced view of my character, that's for sure.
If she'd known this before Christmas, she probably would've walked out without saying a word.
She frowned for a moment, then, as if deciding to press forward, blurted out what she'd clearly been dying to ask. "You're the informant for the hunters, too?"
"Uh-huh," I replied casually, "One espresso, right?"
Her surprise was evident, but she nodded slowly, processing the new information.
"Okay," I said, already starting on the espresso.
"I'd like to ask you something," she began hesitantly.
I nodded, signaling for her to go on. She glanced around suspiciously. There weren't many people in the bar, and those who were seated at the tables had already had a few drinks.
"Are you sure it's safe to talk here?" she asked, doubt clouding her voice.
I pointed towards Weasel's desk. "Do you see them? Those guys are having a discussion about your ass, but other than that they're not really interested in you."
Coffee blushed from ear to ear.
Then I pointed to the two drunken pals in the corner of the room. "One of them is so drunk he can't count to ten, and the other is asleep."
I glanced upstairs, where a vampire was drinking his zero negative. "He's probably already spotted your presence and is trying to figure out how to leave without you spotting him. Oops, he noticed you saw him. If you tell, daddy's gonna be pissed. Although I suppose that's true in your case, too. Hm, Berg is certainly willing to compromise."
Coffee's lips parted. "Berg! What is he doing here?!"
"He pops in for a drink or two now and then," I shrugged, "He's the one who whispers the news of the nobility. Not to me, of course, but it's sure to get to me. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to Daddy."
Lastly, I pointed to a lone fae. "She over there waiting for us to finish talking. She wants to... um, get to know me better."
Coffee blushed again.
"Don't worry," I said, "fae are not my type."
As the saying goes, every saint has his hand out for himself. This is especially true for the fae. They are selfish creatures—in bed too.
"How do you know all this?" she asked.
Although her face remained expressionless, her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"I hear it," I replied simply.
Coffee narrowed her eyes. "You hear it."
"My hearing is very acute," I explained, "I can hear your heartbeat, for example. Although it's harder to tell with a vampire, I think you're worried and maybe a little desperate. You coming to see me confirms that."
She nodded.
"We are trying to weaken the Fifth's forces," she explained, "Most of the ignobles have joined, the rest have remained neutral and don't seem willing to help us. We've come to the point where we're trying to cut off supplies from the Fifth's forces."
"How do you plan to do that?" I asked, pushing the coffee in front of her.
She thanked me quietly and took a sip. She looked at me incredulously, then remarked that it was delicious. I didn't know what she expected if I was a hell of a good bartender.
"I need the names of all the vampire blood dealers," she said, determination in her voice. "We plan to take them all out in one night."
I raised an eyebrow. "Hm. I don't think you'd accomplish much with that."
Her eyes narrowed, a touch of offense creeping into her tone. "What do you mean?"
I shrugged. "The dealers are just expendable pawns. They're hunted all the time, but their numbers never really dwindle."
"That's why we need to eliminate them all at once!" she insisted, her voice tightening with urgency.
I let out a deep sigh before explaining, "Don't you think they have a few dozen humans stashed away for emergencies? They don't kill the victims right away—they feed on them slowly. So even if you take out their supply, you won't see any real weakening."
"How do you know that?" she asked, suspicion coloring her voice.
"I guessed," I replied nonchalantly.
When you consider how many people disappear every day, the number of vengeful ghosts hanging around me is nothing in comparison. Strategically speaking, it only made sense that the dealers would have backups.
"This feels like a desperate last-ditch effort on your part," I added, noting how her hands tightened into fists.
She probably already knew that deep down, but now that I had laid it out so plainly, she couldn't deny it.
"So what do you suggest?" she asked quietly, her voice soft but edged with frustration.
I tapped my fingers on the bar, mulling over her question. "Hm, tough one. If I were you, I'd start by recruiting Crimson. Only a true king can go toe-to-toe with a would-be king."
Her face soured. "Crimson doesn't want to get involved for some reason."
"Interesting," I said, intrigued by the new detail. "Then you'll have to look elsewhere for allies. If not, hire mercenaries. Mages, if you can—preferably of the darkest kind."
She paused, taking in my words, before nodding slowly.
"Are you going to fight, too?" I asked, more out of curiosity than concern.
"If necessary, yes," she said.
That was the answer I'd hoped I wouldn't hear.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken understanding. Somewhere in that quiet, I realized I'd already made my choice.