A small issue is not an issue.
Friday. The last weekday. The fact that I only had six hours of school before I could escape to the weekend was the one thing keeping my mood from completely imploding.
By the way, after the vampires left, something shifted. Sure, it wasn't directly because of them, but after four days of relentless rain, the clouds finally relented. The sun broke through, its rays drying up the puddles and—naturally—trying to burn my retinas in the process.
Still, I found myself oddly grateful for the warm light that wrapped around me. The temperature was just right, and a gentle breeze tossed my hair while carrying friendly scents with it.r. As we walked, the street seemed less ominous, the weird, creepy darkness that usually clung to the corners evaporating as if it never existed.
Coffee didn't come in for the first lesson. She told Jo that she was going to the doctor, but really, except for the human girl, we all knew what the real reason was: in our biology studies, we just reached the moment when we had to talk about blood. Now think about what it's like to start talking about cakes in front of a dieting woman — she wants to taste it right away. Well, vampires are also pretty similar.
Coffee didn't make it in for the first lesson. She told Jo she was going to the doctor, but let's be real, we all knew the real reason. In biology, we had just reached the part where we needed to talk about blood. Imagine a dieting woman being asked about cakes—there's no way she won't start thinking about that first bite. Vampires are pretty much the same when it comes to blood. Unfortunately, by the second lesson, our favorite frosty queen had arrived.
On that Friday, though, there was another little joy that lifted my spirits: I watched with pleasure as Alex bit into the sandwich he had made in the morning and then swallowed the evil little bite with a reddened head, half-choking. He shot me a look, eyes flashing with irritation, but I just grinned as he gulped down a bottle of water like crazy.
I was savoring my slice of pizza, content with the outcome, while Alex launched into a tirade of curses directed at me, flipping through every letter of the alphabet before reversing the order for extra flair. He absolutely loathed spicy food, and yeah, I might have gone a little overboard with the hot sauce on his sandwich—but hey, he needed to pay for that box of cigarettes. They weren't exactly cheap!
"So, what are your plans for the long weekend?" Jo asked, breaking through the noise.
"I work on Saturday and Sunday," I replied without much enthusiasm.
"We could go somewhere together, all five of us," she mused, her voice full of that hopeful tone. "We never go on class trips."
Her ears were turning pink, and I couldn't help but find it incredibly cute. The truth was, Alex and I were usually broke, Alice wasn't much into class trips, Coffee wouldn't go because Jo wasn't there, and Jo? Well, Jo had gotten sick twice right before the trips. Though I couldn't have cared less about the whole thing, I remembered how deflated Jo had looked every time she missed out.
Alex's eyes lit up. They exchanged a look, a silent pact forming between them, likely to enlist the rest of us into this plan. I sighed deeply, wondering if they had all lost their minds. Vampires were rioting in the city, and this was their idea of a good time? Hiking? Really? At least Alex, I could tell, was completely out of his mind.
(....)
As expected, Fridays and Saturdays at my workplace were a madhouse. By the time the clock struck two in the morning, I was ready to collapse and submit my resignation on the spot. My eardrums felt like they were on the verge of rupture, thanks to that incessantly popular track about an albatross blaring at full volume. Music like this usually enters through your ears and then exits through your eyes. Because you are bored to tears.
The place was packed with life—or more accurately, young people. The small pub could barely contain them, a sea of bodies swaying to the beat. For me, this chaos meant better pay, but also a week's worth of muscle spasms.
Then, as if on cue, the man who never failed to make my life a little worse arrived. Geri navigated through the alcohol-soaked crowd with ease, his smirk already grating on my nerves as he approached the bar. My gut had warned me he'd show up sooner or later.
"Hello, honey," he greeted, sliding onto a bar stool. My hands itched to grab him by the throat right then and there. But patience had been drilled into me, and I reminded myself that there wouldn't always be enough witnesses to save his sorry ass.
"What can I get you?" I asked, skipping the pleasantries.
"Having a bad day, dear Shay?" he teased, adding with a smug grin, "Just the usual."
I poured his whiskey, swallowing the nausea rising in my throat, and tried not to dwell on how much I wanted to drown him in that very glass.
"Thank you," he said, raising his glass and downing its contents in one swift gulp.
"Why did you come?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.
"Where's the stone?" His words carried an uncharacteristic edge, the usual gentle smile absent from his face. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. Sometimes, humans could be just as terrifying as the monsters they hunted, if not more so. Deciding which was scarier was often a toss-up.
"It was stolen," I replied flatly.
His gaze bore into me, clearly unconvinced.
"Let me spell it out for you, Shay," he said, his voice laced with menace. "You've managed to stay alive because you're useful and well-connected. But the moment you become more trouble than you're worth, you're done. Understand what that means?"
He stared me down, but I refused to flinch.
"Given that, what's your answer?"
"The stone was stolen," I repeated, locking eyes with him, his onyx gaze swallowing the light.
He sighed deeply, then, as if flipping a switch, smiled again, the tension melting away as though the previous exchange had never happened.
"Who stole it?" he asked, motioning for another drink.
"Vampires," I said. "While I was dealing with a goblin, they snatched it from the boy. I tracked them to the dormitory, fought several of them, but the stone was nowhere to be found."
"I see," he nodded, downing the glass of whiskey in a single gulp. "Why did you hide the boy? Do you know him?"
"He owed me one," I said, offering the first excuse that came to mind.
"Now he owes you two," the hunter smirked. "Feeling better about it?"
I stayed silent, unwilling to play into his game.
"Make sure this doesn't happen again, Shay," Geri warned, his tone cold. "The Crosspherate doesn't take kindly to disobedient pets."
"Say that again," I growled, my voice low and threatening, "and I'll tear out your throat right here, in front of everyone."
The ear-splitting music seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the rhythmic thud of the man's accelerating heartbeat drumming in my ears. The crowd around us continued to sway and move as if nothing had changed, but between the hunter and me, the air grew thick with tension. We were frozen in place, an island of stillness amidst the chaotic sea of revelers, unnoticed by anyone else.
Geri's eyes widened slightly in surprise. I had always been known for my calm demeanor, my calculated restraint. That was likely why he enjoyed working with me, possibly even believed he had some measure of control over me. But taming a true monster is no simple feat. When he saw the flicker of anger in my eyes and caught a glimpse of my bared canines, he swallowed hard. He knew what I was capable of—perhaps better than anyone else.
I remembered our past vividly. When I was eight, and he was a young nineteen-year-old hunter, the Crosspherate had tasked him with keeping me in check. My hatred for him had been fierce, but he had been one of the few who didn't treat me solely as a monster. In secret, he had spoken kind words, tended to my wounds, and showed me a humanity I rarely experienced.
After my mother's death, he disappeared from my life for years. When he reappeared at the pub, I recognized him instantly, despite the time that had passed. I expected the worst, but instead, he ordered whiskey and quietly asked about my well-being. The relief in his eyes was inexplicable. Leaving the Crosspherate was a death sentence, yet here he was, offering protection, making me his informant so that the hunters wouldn't touch me.
Though I had often resented his presence, I couldn't deny the gratitude I felt. It was that gratitude that kept him alive despite his provocation. I've always been a proud monster. A mere squad of hunters was not enough to instill fear in me.
As Geri shook his head, I let my canines retract, the fire in my gaze dimming.
"I don't want you to die," he said softly. "Next time, I won't be able to stop the execution squad from coming for you."
His words hung in the air, a quiet warning laced with an undertone of something deeper—concern, perhaps.
"Don't worry, I'd run away," I said with a soft chuckle.
He smiled faintly, nodding. "I have no doubt about that."
I poured another glass of whiskey and slid it across the bar toward him. "On the house."
Geri glanced at me with a flicker of gratitude before downing the drink in one swift motion.
"There's one more thing," he said, his tone shifting slightly. "I want to warn you."
"About what?" I arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.
"Wolves," he said simply. "A lot of them have gathered in the city, and the full moon is approaching. Keep an eye on your werewolf friend. That pack is lurking nearby."
My fingers involuntarily clenched into fists. "What's their goal?"
Geri shrugged, the gesture casual but his expression anything but. "I have no idea. But they're suspicious, to say the least."
I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Agreed. I'll be cautious."
"By the way, is that cat under your protection?" Geri asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
"No, why?" I replied, narrowing my eyes.
"Because he's standing behind one of the windows," he said, his voice calm.
Geri's senses had only sharpened over the years. Without even turning around, he had sensed the kid. As soon as our eyes met, the boy darted behind the wall, his green eyes wide with alarm. Déjà vu hit me hard. I hated dealing with troublesome things, and this kid was trouble incarnate. There was no way I'd get involved with him again. The sky was clear, so he could fend for himself.
"So, we can catch the kid and take him to the Crosspherate, right?" Geri said, pretending to rise from his seat. "If he's not under your protection, I think I'll just—"
Before he could stand, I grabbed his wrist. "Fine, he's under my protection. Just stay put."
A victorious grin spread across his face. "Thought so."
"Anyway, did I mention that yesterday our mediums detected strange energies around a particular hospital? Coincidentally, the kid's guardian was hospitalized there," he added with a sly look.
"If you already knew, why ask?" I snapped, wiping down glasses and serving a couple of new customers.
"It was fun," he said, his grin widening. "I was curious how you'd handle it."
"Fun for you. Not for me."
"Back to the point," he said, leaning in slightly. "I can handle the wolf and the cat, but promise me you won't adopt any more strays. Your heart's big, but my influence has limits."
"Likewise, there is a limit to my patience," I shot back.
He dropped a piece of paper money on the counter, then stood up and gave me one last, serene look.
Geri chuckled, dropping a note on the counter before standing. He gave me a final, serene look. "You did well. It's not a weakness to have emotions; they make us human."
"I'm not human. I'm a monster," I replied, my voice laced with bitterness.
"It's not our blood that defines us, little Shay," he said, smiling gently. "We can't choose our parents, but our actions are our own responsibility."
"Oh, for God's sake, just leave," I huffed. "I'm done with your sentimental speeches. Next time, find someone else to lecture."
Despite my words, a faint smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"All right, all right," he said, waving a hand. "I won't bother you anymore."
Geri glanced towards the window again, smiling as the owner of those emerald eyes disappeared once more. I heard him mutter under his breath about how he couldn't believe such a scaredy-cat had managed to rob an emerging king. Then the noisy crowd swallowed him, and he was gone.
I sighed deeply, shaking my head. For once, I agreed with him—it really did seem impossible.
Not even a minute after the hunter left, a soft, slightly hoarse voice broke the silence.
"I'd like some cocoa."
That damned gremlin kid! I hadn't even noticed when he slipped onto one of the chairs. At that moment, it became clear how he managed to achieve the impossible. I had almost forgotten that cats are known for their silent footsteps.
He waved some money in front of me with a small smile. I snatched the paper from his hand and set about making his drink.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, sliding the steaming mug in front of him. "Normal kids sleep at night and don't drink cocoa in a pub."
"If you didn't work in a place like this, I wouldn't be here," he replied calmly, taking a sip.
Spite him! This brat was insufferable.
"Funny, when you were half-dead and being chased by vampires and who knows what else, you had a different opinion about this place," I reminded him.
"That was yesterday," he shrugged. "Today's today."
Seriously, this is why I don't like kids.
"So, what brought you here?" I asked, leaning my head on my hand.
He looked up slowly. "My feet." He's getting on my nerves. "And I have nothing else to do."
You little punk.
"Wouldn't you be able to enjoy doing nothing somewhere else?" I asked with a forced smile.
He glanced nervously to the side, then, gathering courage, returned his gaze to mine. "You make good cocoa," he said, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "That's the only reason I came here."
"I see," I muttered. When a customer banged on the counter, yelling, "A beer, dude!" I turned away to serve the smelly teenager.
"Hunters will leave you alone, but don't cause too much trouble, okay?" I added.
He nodded silently, sipping his cocoa. When he was done, he handed me the mug with another five hundred forints.
"I'd rather not ask where you got the money," I sighed.
A sly smile spread across his face. "If you need something, just tell me. Consider it yours—there's nothing I can't steal."
"I figured as much," I muttered, shaking my head in disapproval.
By the end of my shift at two in the morning, the kid was still there. Though he hadn't ordered anything after his second cocoa, he watched me silently as I worked.
"Where do you live?" I asked, grabbing my jacket. "I'll walk you home."
"No need," he shook his head. "I sleep in a new place every night."
Just because the hunters were gone didn't mean the monsters wouldn't hunt him. The boy was smart, aware of his dangers. His face had some color now; he seemed rested and had eaten. But the most welcomed change was that he didn't stink, which made it easier to be around him.
"Why did you take the risk of coming here?" I asked.
"I already told you," he said. "I'm bored."
Are kids today addicted to adrenaline, or are they just clueless about constantly playing with fire?
"Don't come near the pub too often," I warned. "Not only humans visit here."
"You don't say," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He glanced at me, convincing even me of my own mental disability. His audacity was infuriating to say the least.
"Good night," I said, heading for the door. "And I hope I never see you again."