There's more than one way to skin a cat — so why not try some?
I endured three-quarters of my classes, each more soul-crushing than the last, and finally—finally!—it was time for lunch. The highlight of my day! I could already taste the deliciousness of freeloading at the buffet. A cute look at a human was usually enough to make them my personal snack-fetching servant. Truly, one of the more useful traits I inherited from my illustrious ancestors.
I had already scoped out my next potential victim when Alice swooped in and effectively blocked me from preying on the poor human.
"I'll treat you," he said, flashing that irritatingly kind smile.
Free food is free food, no matter who's footing the bill.
"Sure," I replied, with all the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged to a bath.
While Alice worked his magic at the counter, I hung back and observed him. I had plenty of time to study his every move—the always-perfectly combed hair, the broad shoulders, the peaceful, almost saintly aura he had. Honestly, the guy practically screamed "earthly balance," which, of course, made me want to punch him in the most dramatic way possible. But it wasn't like I could do anything about it. Alice had quietly wormed his way into my life since the first day of my second year, stalking me like a well-dressed shadow. And honestly? It was a pain.
Of course, Alex had developed an inexplicable fondness for him and firmly rejected my brilliant plans to remove the ever-present Alice.
Alice returned with two slices of pizza, his usual serene smile plastered across his face. We made our way to the dining room, where the rest of the group was already waiting. The canteen was supposed to be reserved for those who actually paid, but it wasn't like anyone had the guts to call us out. Alice and I were the last ones to arrive.
Jo and Coffee were sitting next to each other, Jo talking animatedly about something utterly unimportant while giving Coffee that sweet little smile. Coffee's lips twitched upward, just barely, before she lifted her coffee cup, so it seemed as if it was only a mirage.
Vampires don't eat human food—they can't eat it; they can't digest it. Still, the vampire girl ate everything Jo made for her each time. Still, every single time, Coffee ate whatever Jo made for her with an expression of polite indifference, as if it were normal.
I once asked her what it tasted like. Her response? Silence. Not because she couldn't taste it—no, no. Vampires definitely have taste buds. It was just... gross to her. But she would never say that.
She kept it classy, quietly stabbing her fork into another slice of pancake and raising it to her lips. She chewed, swallowed, and didn't even flinch. I don't know what's weirder: the fact that she could stomach it or that she didn't flinch at all. Vampires are really weird creatures.
I plopped down next to Alex, who was halfway through his fourth sandwich, like a ravenous beast in a human disguise. I took a bite of my pizza, watching him for a second. I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, stuffing the last bite into his mouth.
I'm sure he'd smelled something fishy again. He wasn't gonna spill easily, though. No matter, I'd have to get it out of him later—after all, what were best friends for if not for prying into each other's secrets?
(...)
Since Alex refused to drag his sorry butt home yesterday and clammed up about whatever had put him in a sudden depression, I decided to play detective and crack the case myself. I'm no amateur, after all. A little eavesdropping here, a tiny prod there—monsters and humans alike spill a surprising amount after a few drinks. Alcohol really is the great truth serum.
The murmurs in the air had the perfect mix of suspicion and chaos. Riots, blood trafficking, and, oh yeah, yesterday's murder. Nothing too out of the ordinary, right? I focused on the details, but one line caught my ear.
"Maybe he's responsible for it," one guy muttered to his buddy, "if you think about it, we haven't heard from him lately."
The second guy nodded. He was about to say more when I placed a mug of beer on the table with due force. The two guys jerked back, their eyes wide, blinking at me like I was some kind of bloodthirsty monster. They looked like they were about to stammer out a defensive line, but I didn't give them the chance.
A soft, almost innocent smile tugged at my lips, the kind that makes people wonder if you've just plotted their doom in a perfectly charming way. The two guys stiffened as if they'd seen a ghost. "What were you talking about, boys?" I asked in that too-sweet tone.
"Nothing!" one of them blurted, way too quickly.
"Thanks for the beer!" the other added, way too eager.
I let them stew in their own guilt as I walked away, leaving the two drunken idiots to squirm. Hajnal was standing by the counter, arms crossed, giving me the kind of look that only a boss who's seen everything could give. I wasn't concerned—she knew better than to try and play the role of the responsible adult with me.
I breezed past her, grabbed a rag, and started wiping down glasses.
"Don't scare away my customers," she growled, her voice low.
I muttered something incoherent under my breath—nothing that could be taken as an actual apology—and she sighed dramatically, like dealing with me was her second job.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Paying too much attention to the rumors about the 'demon' doesn't help the situation."
I shrugged, flipping the rag between my hands. "What should I do differently then? Let hunters and warped monsters infest the pub, all chasing this 'demon'?"
She grimaced, clearly not fond of this outcome.
"All I wanted to say," she said, exasperated, "is that you're just making them believe the rumors."
"They believe what they want," I said with a dismissive shrug, not really invested in her drama. "Let them."
With that, I finished wiping the glass and let the conversation die as I turned back to my work. Hajnal sighed again, like it was her daily workout, and disappeared into her office to deal with whatever was bothering her this time.
No one knew too much about this alleged demon. The most anyone knew was that it was a bloodthirsty creature with a bone mask that could send shivers up your spine with just a glance. Apparently, if you were lucky, it would vanish into the night like a bad dream. If not? Well, nobody really knew, because... well, no one had lived to tell the tale. Bullshit, I say.
It's not as if I was particularly interested in the matter; I just happened to hear the address where some woman was killed.
Most of the regulars, while never outright talking about it, shot me those 'meaningful' looks when they whispered about the incident. If they wanted me to check it out so badly, who was I to let them down?
I had no clue that I'd be led straight to a trace of Alex. Alongside the usual trail of vampire stench and blood, his faint scent lingered in the narrow street. It was subtle—just a shadow of him—but unmistakable.
I crouched down to examine a small dark spot on the cobblestone more closely. someone had thoroughly cleaned up.
I crouched by a dark spot on the cobblestone, narrowing my eyes as I inspected it. Scanning the surroundings, I found no other traces besides that dry bloodstain—someone had clearly gone to great lengths to clean up. Not a surprise.
As I took in the air, I picked up the scent of a cemetery—a scent that wasn't human at all. It had a vampire's signature, thick and dark, mingling with the faint trace of Alex.
After a few minutes of tracing the scent, I found myself standing next to some dark containers. Alex wasn't the best at covering his tracks.
I nudged one of the containers, revealing a few drops of blood, dark and rich, on the side. The smell alone made my mouth water—vampire blood was always intoxicating, even in its dried form. I quickly looked away, focusing on the more pressing matters at hand.
Next, I noticed a small pile of black ash at the base of a wall. The scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air, faint but recognizable. The flames had etched faint, sooty patterns on the brick wall and lightly scorched the ground. The vampire had been disposed of with a fire.
I had no doubt that Alex was attempting to dispose of the body using this method—he had witnessed me employ such tactics several times before. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, though. A partial shoe print nearby told me that much.
I sighed, erasing the mark with a quick swipe of my foot. This wasn't enough to track Alex—but I knew better than to leave loose ends. I inhaled deeply, knowing that the wolf's scent would fade with the night, leaving no trace for anyone else to follow.
I didn't feel the need to do more. To anyone unfamiliar with Alex's scent, this would've been just another faint trace in the dark—unnoticeable and unimportant.
On my walk home, I contemplated the extent of danger my favorite werewolf might have thrust himself into. My musings continued as I wandered around my apartment.
The more I thought about Alex, the more I couldn't shake the worry gnawing at me. My favorite werewolf had a way of plunging himself into danger, often without a thought for the consequences. As I aimlessly wandered around my apartment, trying to tidy up enough to make it look like two normal people lived there—because, let's be real, most humans don't have a carpet coated in a five-inch layer of fur, especially if they don't own a pet—I couldn't stop thinking about where Alex was. It was four in the morning, and there was no sign of him.
Where the hell had he gone this time?
I wasn't naive enough to believe he could get into trouble that he couldn't handle. After all, Alex wasn't a fragile human who would crumple at the first sign of danger. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that a lone wolf, no matter how strong, could be an easy target. He had no pack to back him up. And, unlike me, he wasn't exactly equipped with a charming smile or a silver tongue to talk his way out of things. If monsters had their sights on him, he would have to fight.
Alex used to have a pack. His father had been the alpha, and he was supposed to take his place—even after his parents' death. When Alex was fourteen, some of the pack members pushed him into a kind of test: kill some humans to prove his worth. Alex, being Alex, didn't follow through.
He liked humans—like, actually liked them in a non-monster way. Personally, the only thing I like about humans is that I can make fun of them and take advantage of them. In any case, Alex liked them in the most unmonsterlike sense of the word. That's a level of insanity I don't fully understand. But Alex? He clung to his idealistic little world, and I usually kept my doubts to myself.
I seem to have drifted off-topic again... So, I was narrating that sweet, innocent little Alex didn't meet the expectations in the end. That, however, wasn't the major problem. Really trouble started when a rogue wolf decided to challenge him for the alpha title. It wasn't a surprise that Alex lost the fight. The outcome was practically written in the stars. A leader who refuses a challenge brings shame to the entire pack, so of course, Alex couldn't back down.
Normally, when an alpha loses a challenge, the victor kills them. It's a sign of respect and acknowledgment that the old alpha is no longer fit for the title. But Alex? He survived. Maybe it was because he was young, maybe something else. In any case, he went from being an alpha to a lone omega, just like that.
And that was when we decided to live together. Because, for all his strength, Alex was alone—vulnerable in a way that only a wolf without a pack could be. I hadn't planned it, but it felt right.
It was raining. I was just about to stand up—planning to stop sitting around and wait for my retarded roommate—so I could give him a piece of my mind for all the idiotic things he'd done today. Occasionally, Alex would end up spending the night with some woman after picking her up, but today was different. He didn't seem to be in the mood at all to suddenly fool around with a chick or two.
No, not at all. Instead, he'd been moping around all day like he was about to be accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake—at the very least, hung. So, no matter how fickle his mood could be, it was highly unlikely he'd suddenly crave some casual hook-up. Something serious must have gone down, and I knew it was something dangerous if he hadn't said a word to me. His stubbornness was beyond frustrating.
I heard footsteps approaching. The faint click of the lock and the barely audible creak of the door followed. I was about to stand up and start giving my best friend a well-deserved verbal thrashing when I stopped in my tracks. Alex looked half-dead, even before I could lay a finger on him.
Despite the heavy rain, there were dark splotches on his clothes, and the unmistakable, metallic-sweet scent of fresh vampire blood hung in the air. My sense of smell wasn't as acute as a werewolf's, but even a regular human would have caught the scent of it.
"What the hell did you do?" I asked, voice sharp, my eyes immediately flicking to the fleabag in his hands. "And what the fuck is that in your hands?"
I hoped, for a second, that my nose was wrong, that he wasn't holding a severed body part of some monster, but no such luck. Seriously, I would've rather he said it was the severed phallus of some other werewolf, a ridiculous mascot to keep around.
Anything would have been better than what came out of his mouth next.
"Listen, Shay, don't get mad…" He always starts like this when I actually have a damn reason to be furious.
"Don't get mad?" I echoed in a calm voice, though every fiber of my being wanted to scream. "What would make me mad, dear Alex?"
He swallowed hard, well aware of what my calm, smooth tone meant: hell was about to break loose. Then the damn thing meowed. That was the moment when everything snapped. I appeared in front of Alex in an instant, and his pupils dilated for a second in surprise. Despite being a monster himself, Alex could never quite grasp the speed with which I moved.
"Hey, kitty," I said softly, running my fingers through the matted fur.
When my grip tightened, Alex didn't even have time to react before the thing started writhing in my hands.
"How cute," I added with a smile that shifted into a wicked grin in the next breath. "Which window should I throw it out of?"
In that moment, I had an overwhelming urge to see if cats really land on their feet. Honestly, I wouldn't mind testing it under the tires of a truck.
"Shay!" Alex shouted.
That one word carried everything—blame, outrage, and an unspoken plea. If you get down on your knees, mate, maybe.
I started toward the window, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"Just let me explain first, damn it!"
Meanwhile, the cat kept meowing in protest, twisting in my grasp like I was already choking the life out of it.
Alex's puppy eyes—damn those eyes—finally got to me, and I reluctantly tossed the furball at him with a dismissive flick of my wrist. He caught it with a mix of dread and relief, giving me a dirty look before gently stroking the creature's disgusting fur.
"Start explaining," I said, "Before I decide to throw that nuisance out with you."
Alex didn't like the idea, but he wisely kept quiet, knowing I'd follow through if he didn't give me some good reasons. After all, he brought this little monster into my house. Goddammit.
"I ran into an ignoble wandering around town yesterday," he said quietly.
I didn't tell him that I actually knew about it, letting him believe there were things I didn't know. Truth be told, if there were, they were few and far between.
"I didn't want to talk about it," he continued, "I took care of it easily, assumed he was just some nomad, but..."
He paused, meeting my eyes to gauge my reaction. I showed no sign of about-to-flip-him-out-the-window fury, so he carried on.
"I ran into another one today. He killed an old lady. She was the owner of the kitty... I couldn't just leave it there, not without a home."
I didn't even flinch. "Why not?" I asked, my voice icy. "You should've just walked away. It's not that complicated. You don't need to play the hero. Cats have multiple owners, someone's bound to take it in. And if not, and it can't survive on its own, then it's better off as worm food. Nature's cycle and all that."
Alex looked at me pretty nastily again, but my position changed little from that.
"What do you want to do with it now?" I asked, my expression saying it all—don't even think about saying something stupid.
And of course, he did.
"I'll keep it."
"Horseshit," I muttered under my breath.
I didn't know what had made him think for a second I'd be okay with this, given how much I loathed those little parasites.
"It won't bother you," he tried, "You won't even notice it's here."
I raised an eyebrow. "How the hell wouldn't I notice it? We share a room, Alex. Unless it can turn invisible or comes from some chameleon family, it's physically impossible for me not to notice."
"How the hell wouldn't I notice its presence when we share a room? If it can't become invisible or doesn't have a chameleon relative, it's physically impossible for me not to notice!"
"Only until we find an owner for it," he countered.
"I have zero faith that we won't end up stuck with it," I said dryly.
"But—"
"I'm tired, Alex. You probably need rest too, but I don't want to see that little pest here tomorrow morning," I interrupted, my voice carrying the weight of a promise.
Alex could hear the threat in my voice because he didn't object anymore. He only saw me bloody serious a few times, and Alex already knew that there was simply no chance against me at such times. I yawned, then sent another piercing look to the unfortunate animal, and fell with a small whop on my bed.
He didn't argue anymore. He'd seen me dead serious only a few times, and by now, Alex knew there was no winning when I was like this. I yawned, shot one last, venomous glance at the cat, then collapsed on my bed with a soft thud.
Alex's words still gnawed at me. The cat, as annoying as it was, wasn't what bothered me. No, what troubled me was the bigger picture. If rogue vampires were out here making meals of random humans, why weren't the nobles taking action? The two other murders from last week had hardly registered with me. After all, humans come and go.
But if this was connected to vampires, then there was real cause for concern. Nobles don't waste a week dealing with rogue bloodsuckers; they handle their messes swiftly. Something wasn't right. I needed to talk to Coffee tomorrow. No wonder I had such a bad feeling about the whole vampire situation.