The minutes tick by and you can't even buy a last moment with all your money. That's life.
I found Alex and Rolo in the lounge, playing cards with a group of bored hunters, clearly trying to kill time. Rolo already had a nice stack of paper money in his hands—thanks to what could only be divine intervention, considering how he won almost every round. When he spotted me, he jumped up, shoved the cash into his pockets, and stomped over so loudly that I swear even elephants would've blushed at the noise. I was a little taken aback by the intensity of his glare—those emerald eyes were burning with anger. It was the first time I'd seen Rolo truly pissed.
"You'll take me out for ice cream to atone for this," he declared, pointing an accusing finger at me.
Alex, ever the enthusiast for anything involving food, immediately jumped up too. He was probably more excited about the ice cream than either of us.
Half an hour later, we were all seated in the Forst house, waiting for our orders. I went for a Baileys cup, priced at 1,200 forints. Hey, if we're heading into battle tomorrow, I figured I might as well indulge in some of life's little pleasures.
Alex, of course, went all out—ordering five different types of ice cream, all the sweetest ones on the menu. Rolo, however, went with the most unexpected choice: three scoops of lemon-flavored ice cream. It turns out, the kid doesn't like sweets much, except for cocoa, and lemon ice cream was apparently his one exception.
I thought I knew the kid's real smile by now, but after his first taste, something subtle happened. His lips curled up slightly, just a hint of a smile, and I realized something: most of the time when Rolo smiles, it's because he knows it's the easiest way out of a bad situation. Even if it's the sarcastic kind.
We stopped by Nick's shop next, where, as usual, he was in the middle of a heated argument with a customer over prices. But the moment he saw us, he waved us over. Alex's eyes practically sparkled as he took in the shop, and for a second, he looked completely overwhelmed, unsure of what he even wanted.
After Nick successfully finished "robbing" his latest customer, he turned his attention to us.
"How can I help?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever.
"We're looking for a weapon for the idiot and the kid," I said, summarizing the situation while feeling the weight of two sharp glares stabbing into my back.
Nick studied Alex first, humming thoughtfully as he walked over to a short sword and gave it a slow, appraising stroke along the tip.
"No, no," he muttered, moving on to a rack of large daggers, ranging from fifteen to thirty centimeters in length.
"Yeah, this one's good," he grumbled before pulling two of the largest daggers off the shelf and handing them to Alex. The guy was a professional through and through. When it came to picking the right weapon for someone, Nick could tell just by looking at them—no need for more than a glance.
Nick motioned toward the rather shabby mannequins at the back of the room. "Try it."
Alex took the daggers and made a few quick, clean cuts through the air.
"It's so light!" he said, surprised. "Feels like it doesn't weigh anything."
"Of course, it's dwarven steel, the best quality you'll find anywhere," Nick boasted, puffing out his chest. "And for today, I'm throwing in free holsters that attach to your belt. Can't beat that."
Alex made one final cut through the now-helpless mannequin, humming in appreciation.
"Can this cut off a vampire's head?" I asked.
"Easily," Nick said with a confident nod.
"Can you get something for the kid, too?" I asked.
Nick's gaze swept over Rolo with the precision of a hawk eyeing its prey. He sighed deeply.
"For a kid his age?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm fifteen," Rolo said dryly. "And I've got my own way of fighting, so…"
Nick waved him off like it was nothing, then grabbed a small dagger from the shelf and handed it over to Rolo.
Rolo looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I don't need it, I can fight."
"I know," I said, nodding, "but I'd like you to hide it in your boots just to be safe."
We made our way to the cash register, where Nick, true to his word, tossed in a free case for the daggers.
"So, how much?" I flashed him my most charming smile.
"Twenty-eight thousand forints," he said without missing a beat.
I leaned on the counter, resting my cheek on my palm, and gave him the full fae treatment—a look that could melt the hardest of hearts.
"I see you misunderstood me, Nick," I said softly, my voice dripping with sweetness. "I asked, 'How much will it cost me?'"
"Twenty-eight thousand forints," he repeated, completely unaffected.
What the hell? Why wasn't fae allure working?
After what felt like an eternity of haggling (and probably getting fleeced), we finally scraped together the money and stumbled out of the weapon shop. As I stepped outside, I sighed deeply, imagining Nick behind the counter, counting his cash with a devilish grin and laughing to himself like he'd just pulled off the greatest con of the century.
We walked in silence for a while, and then it hit me—someone was missing. Rolo was nowhere to be found. I turned around and spotted him a little ways back, watching the kids playing on a terrace.
Rosenstein Alley wasn't just a haven for hunters to gather and rest. It was also a refuge for families and even those who had nowhere else to go.
The children playing seemed to fall into one of two categories: either they were orphans or little troublemakers whose one parent was a hunter, the other regular human, and the monsters had caught wind of it. Yet, there they were, playing with the kind of laughter that came from pure joy, without a care in the world.
And for some reason, Rolo looked heartbreakingly melancholic watching them, as though some invisible weight was pressing down on him. It made me want to kick him in the ankle.
"What's up, you not coming?" I asked, trying to snap him out of whatever gloomy thought had taken over. "At this pace, we won't even make it back for dinner."
He turned toward me, surprised—like he'd momentarily forgotten he wasn't alone.
"I'm coming," he muttered, and for a split second, I saw that rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I rolled my eyes and stormed off with a huff, making sure to put some distance between us. I decided not to wait—he'd catch up eventually. But if not, and some random stranger decided to abduct him in the meantime, well, that wasn't exactly my problem.
We ascended the creaking stairs of Babel, the sound echoing through the narrow hallway, until we reached the lounge. Alex grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and shoved the door open. My nose was immediately hit by the strong smell of cigarettes.
I barely had time to react, but I yanked the wolf back just as a bullet whizzed past us, missing his forehead by a hair's breadth.
"What the hell was that?!" Alex shouted.
The room was nearly swallowed by the haze of smoke, the air thick and stifling. It was hard to see anything clearly.
Killey Horsby stood grinning with a gun pointed at someone. The family's sniper was an assassin of the highest caliber who specialized in high-profile eliminations.
From what Des had told me, Killey had been trying to challenge Alice to a shooting duel for months. But there was only one other person who could excite him like that—Tekla Trinitas.
Tekla was Willingham's top hunter, a mage's daughter and a force to be reckoned with. Her reputation for discipline and ruthlessness was known throughout the family. Her abilities had earned her the rank of paladin, and she wore the number I on the left side of her chest to signify her status.
At six feet tall, Tekla towered over most women, her long blonde hair flowing like a cloak behind her. She was dressed in her usual uniform, a cigar dangling from her mouth, more than just a habit—it was part of her weaponry.
Suddenly, the swirling smoke around Tekla began to take shape, forming into a massive, five-meter-tall suit of armor. The Knight reached out, and even though Killey fired at him, the bullets merely punched through the smoke before it closed up around the holes.
Killey was fighting back vehemently but the solidified smoke knight took the weapon from his hand. Then Tekla sighed deeply and waved. The Knight released him, but to my greatest disappointment, Killey did not fall on his head.
The smoke knight dissolved into thin air as the last of it faded into the ether. The room felt quieter, safer, and I judged it was finally time to step in. A little further inside, the hunters were gambling and chatting, seemingly unaffected by the skirmish.
Killey left with a muttered curse, and as I passed Tekla, she bowed deeply. I nodded in acknowledgment, while the others trailed behind me, a little bewildered by what had just happened. We all settled onto a free sofa, the tension dissipating as we relaxed.
Tekla, however, remained alone in a far corner, settled into an armchair. The hunters, despite their respect for her abilities, kept their distance—jealousy and fear always seemed to surround her. She, however, respected everyone in the family, greeting them with the same deep bow, no matter how they treated her.
Rolo looked up from the corner of the room, his curiosity evident. "Who is that, anyway?"
"Tekla Trinitas," I answered simply.
"Trinitas?"
"It's her attack," I explained. "It's named after the three golems she summons in battle: the Pawn, the Knight, and the Emperor."
The Emperor, however, was a mystery. It was said to be her most powerful golem, but Tekla had never needed to summon it in combat. The Emperor existed only in rumors and whispers—no one knew its form, its abilities, or what it was capable of. But everyone feared it. The Emperor was more than just a weapon. It was a symbol of the kind of power Tekla wielded, and no one dared to challenge it.
(...)
I didn't bother to look up when I heard Rolo's soft steps approaching. Instead, I kept staring at my phone, eyes fixed on the message. I had half a mind to just block the guy for good, but I knew I couldn't afford to.
[Your Coolest Big Brother Zack]
I ended up sending him the coordinates of the battlefield and a time with gritted teeth. I hoped that the Fae Queen would help me.
And then, of course, Rolo appeared, slipping into the room like a shadow, as silent as ever.
"Can't sleep today either?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady.
I rolled my eyes, but it wasn't a harsh reaction. "I see, you have nothing better to do than analyze my sleeping habits."
A slight smile tugged at his lips, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he perched on the edge of my bed, leaning in slightly, his eyes intent on me.
"I know why you don't want me to fight," Rolo said suddenly, a hint of frustration in his voice. "You think I'm young, that I'm too weak, too inexperienced."
I opened my mouth, but Rolo cut me off, shaking his head. "You don't know what I'm capable of, Shay. You don't see it. But I can fight. I've fought before. I've fought for my life, for my survival."
His words hit harder than I expected. I was silent for a moment. I had always seen Rolo as the weakest. But now, as I looked into his eyes, I saw something else—something darker, lurking just beneath the surface.
"I don't doubt that you can fight," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
He tilted his head, sensing the tension in my words. "Then let me prove it."
"You'll get your chance, Rolo," I muttered, my gaze drifting back to the phone. "But not now. I need you to trust me, too. I'm not doing this because I think you can't handle it… I'm doing it because I'm not ready to lose anyone."
Rolo didn't speak right away, but his silence wasn't angry. It was just a quiet understanding. He leaned back, stretching his legs out as he glanced at me one last time.
"Maybe. But I decide when I fight, Shay. Not you, not anyone else." Rolo shifted slightly, and I saw the challenge in his eyes.
"Rolo," I said, my voice softer, but with a firmness that I couldn't hide, "I don't want you to always have to act older than you are. You're not some grown-up soldier, alright? You're a kid, and I need you to stay that way—at least sometimes."
Rolo's brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face. But I pushed on before he could say anything.
"I'm not saying you can't help," I continued, my gaze now steady on him. "But sometimes... I just want you to be on the sidelines. To stay out of the danger I can't always control. I don't want you to carry the weight of this... not yet."
The room felt quieter all of a sudden. It wasn't just the words—it was the way they settled between us, like something fragile was hanging in the balance.
"I know what it's like to lose people too. And I'm not going to sit back and watch if I can do something about it," he finally said, his voice quieter than usual.
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "I know you do," I murmured.
Rolo's eyes softened just a little, but the resolve in his voice didn't waver. "I chose you, Shay. I chose to stay with you. To be part of your famiglia." He said it like a promise, like a truth that had been settled long ago.
The room fell quiet again, his words hanging heavy in the air. I could see it—the fire in his eyes. The same fire that burned in his eyes when we were in the hospital.
"If I promise not to die, will stay out of the fight?"
There was a long pause, the room heavy with his silent consideration. His lips pressed together, and for a moment, I thought he might push back again. But when he finally spoke, his words were soft but firm.
"Alright," he said, the words slow and reluctant.
Rolo settled down on the bed beside me, mirroring my position with his back against the wall. He stared at a point on the ceiling, but I could tell it wasn't out of fascination. He was avoiding my gaze, the tension between us thick enough to cut through.
I could tell I had wounded his pride again. He couldn't grasp how I could consider Alex a more capable ally than him. I had long since noticed the tension between them. Rolo barely spoke to Alex—when he did, it was in clipped, one-word answers. He seemed to go out of his way to avoid him, always walking on the opposite side of me, as far from Alex as possible. And when he thought no one was looking, he'd make a face—one full of disdain—especially when Alex did something as mundane as eating, sleeping, or simply breathing.
"So, what's up?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Still can't sleep?"
He sighed dramatically, his voice low. "I can hear the wolf snoring two rooms away," he muttered. "How do you even bear it?"
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. "After all these years, I've gotten used to it." I paused, considering the tension that was building between us. "So, what do you want to know about him?"
Rolo didn't seem surprised that I had already figured out the direction of this conversation. If anything, it seemed like he had planned it this way.
"Do you really trust him?" Rolo asked, his voice sharper now, almost accusing. "He eats like a pig, snores like a rotary hoe, and is always grinning. I don't get it. Why keep him around? This is war, Shay. A small mistake could be fatal."
I smiled faintly. "I trust him with my life, Rolo."
He raised an eyebrow. "How long have you known him?"
"Since I was a child," I answered quietly. "We met on a snowy evening. He just kept showing up every day, even though I didn't talk to him." I chuckled, the memory bittersweet. "Eventually, I got used to his presence. Then, when he left his pack, he just... stuck to me."
Rolo smirked. "Not a very original story. I thought you were going to say something dramatic."
I gave him a dry smile. "Isn't it dramatic enough that he stuck to me?" I teased, and he let out a soft laugh.
"And how strong is he?" Rolo asked, the question carrying more weight now.
"He might be considered quite strong," I replied, the corner of my mouth lifting in a small, almost proud smile. "After all, he learned from me."
Rolo muttered something under his breath about my vanity, but I ignored it.
"When he was still with his pack, he asked me to train him," I continued, memories flooding back. "At first, it was just me beating him to a pulp, no mercy."
I remembered with a devilish smile. "It made me even more ruthless that he didn't even let out a single cry, even though he was a whiney crybaby back then, so I beat him up even more. After a couple of weeks, I got bored and asked him to shift. And when he finally did, it was something else entirely. I guess I don't need to explain what a shocking sight it is..." I glanced at the boy.
Rolo's eyes narrowed, understanding flickering. He knew exactly what I was talking about: Shapeshifters don't like anyone watching them change. It's painful, brutal. The bones stretch, fuse together, and the organs shift. It's excruciating, especially at first.
The pain never vanishes, it's always gut-wrenching, and when you feel like you're going crazy, the transformation ends. You can't get used to it, you can merely tolerate it.
Alex transformed in front of me, his third time going through the agonizing process—he attacked me instantly, with a ferocity I hadn't expected from the once fearful child I had known.
Before I could react, he was on top of me, pinning me to the ground, his teeth sinking into my flesh with a savage determination. I screamed. And screamed. But the sound quickly faded as my voice gave out, my body tensing with pain so sharp it felt as though every nerve was being torn apart. I couldn't move—couldn't even twitch a finger.
Each bite, each clawed strike, was relentless. The pain seemed endless, gnawing through me, and I had no sense of time as it stretched on. His assault was frantic, but my healing ability kicked in, the wounds closing up as he inflicted them, though it couldn't dull the torment he caused in me.
Then, just as suddenly as the onslaught had started, it stopped. The sound of growling, of animalistic fury, fell away. Instead, I heard something far worse—sobbing. Broken, gut-wrenching sobs.
I forced my eyes open to find Alex, hunched over, his face buried in his hands, trembling violently. His shoulders shook as he wept, the boy reduced to a sobbing mess.
"No, no, no! Please, no! Again... I did it again... I killed him..." he cried out, his voice raw with guilt and confusion.
I pushed myself up, my body aching in protest. Alex's gaze snapped to mine, wide-eyed and filled with disbelief. He couldn't fathom how I was still breathing, still alive after everything.
A faint smile tugged at my lips, a touch of superiority that, despite the burning pain radiating from the deep gash on my side and the dull ache that throbbed along my face, couldn't be suppressed. The sharp, itchy sensation of my healing abilities was a reminder, spreading through my skin as the wounds slowly stitched themselves back together. I could feel the pieces of my arm mending where his fangs had torn through, the gaping wound on my side shrinking.
I flexed my fingers a couple of times.
Alex sniffled, his eyes still wide with guilt, and he stared at me like I was something otherworldly. I raised an eyebrow in response. "You thought you could kill me that easily?"
His expression flickered with confusion, and before I could process it, he lunged at me, wrapping his arms around me with such force that I was momentarily stunned. His grip was desperate, as if he truly wanted to crush the life out of me.
He clung to me, repeating some incoherent, sentimental nonsense about thanking God and how grateful he was that I was still here, still alive.
I wrinkled my nose. He smelled like wet dog, the scent overwhelming, and every instinct told me to shove him away. But I didn't. Instead, I let him hold me.
"I will not die."
His shaky hum of agreement echoed in my ear, a soft surrender to the truth.
"Let's just say he managed to catch me off guard, and we ended up calling it a draw," I continued, the memory still fresh in my mind.
After that, Alex didn't shift for a long while. He promised himself he wouldn't again until he could control this part of himself.
I like Alex's kind smile, few monsters can smile like that. I like his easygoing personality, which I can always exploit and which I can always make fun of. In spite of all these...
"Alex isn't as simple as he seems. He tries to act like he doesn't notice things, but trust me, he's more aware than you think."
"Nonsense," he finally shared his opinion about it.
I sighed, leaning back against the wall.
"You'll understand one day," I added, my voice softer. You will learn that even the most harmless and kind monsters are monsters. "You are still a child, you don't need to know everything."
He growled under his breath, frustration flashing in his eyes. "I'm not a child!"
I chuckled at his outburst and flopped onto the bed, making myself comfortable.
A few minutes passed in the stillness of the room before I turned over, glancing at him. Rolo was already asleep, his breath deep and steady. I huffed softly and turned back to my other side.
However, even hours later, I was unable to fall asleep.