The deputy didn't notice any difference as he left the room to head to the bathroom. Seizing the chance, Eli took out the vial. Despite its label reading "Vitality," Eli felt uncertain about its actual effects; the essence it contained felt strange, similar to his ring. He glanced at the ring on his finger, labeled as "Durability," though it occasionally numbed his pain—a type of defense, perhaps, but Eli didn't want to jump to conclusions.
"Maybe this vitality is directed somewhere else," he thought. An easy way to test it would be to pour some of the substance on a plant and observe any changes. While there were no plants in his room, there was one in the nurses' break room.
Back in his room, Eli felt a bit annoyed. He had sprinted to grab the plant and then returned, only to run into a nurse along the way. She hadn't said anything, but her expression was enough: that look she gave him, a sort of concerned sigh, as if she were sending a friend off to war. Eli rolled his eyes. He wasn't doing anything dangerous—well, not really.
Holding the plant in his hands, Eli took out the vial and poured a single drop on one of its thick, cactus-like leaves. The plant was dry, like it hadn't received any attention from the nurses in a while. Eli stared at it, waiting, but nothing seemed to be happening. A few moments later, a faint yellow line appeared, tracing up through the plant's veins. Eli watched in real-time as the plant turned a vibrant green, and, not long after, a bright pink flower blossomed. It was soon followed by several others, rapidly popping open one by one.
As Eli held the plant, he could feel it growing, and he started to worry. How big was this going to get? He didn't want it taking over the entire room. Panicking, he dashed to the window and tossed the plant into the bushes below. Just as he was about to head back to bed, he spotted the nurse through the window in the door, shaking her head as she looked at him. She eventually walked away, no doubt thinking Eli was just pure trouble.
Pitter-patter. Soft footsteps echoed down a dimly lit corridor, water dripping in a slow rhythm from overhead pipes. A slim blonde teen, no older than fifteen, walked down the aisle with purpose, navigating the maze-like halls with practiced ease. She turned several corners until she came to a crossroads with flickering lights.
Standing there, a man waited with his hands clasped behind him.
"How's Derek?" he asked, his voice gravelly.
"He's a fool," the girl replied dismissively. "Fell for me like a baby bird needing its mother."
"Good," the old man, Gerald, said, nodding. "Have you found out when the family will all be gathered together at the house?"
"Derek hasn't said anything specific," the girl replied, "but one of the kids is having a birthday party in two weeks. He seemed excited about it. Even if the entire family isn't there, a good number of them will be."
"A 'good number' isn't enough!" Gerard almost shouted, his voice chillingly low. He turned, taking a step toward her. "These people are monsters. When you set a trap for a pack of wolves, you must make sure that all of them are captured—otherwise, you'll suffer the fangs of their revenge. You can't afford to make mistakes here."
The young girl lowered her head slightly. "Yes, I'll make sure. By the week's end."
"And what about my brother?" she asked, hesitation lacing her tone.
"Your brother is too soft," Gerard replied sharply. Walking closer, he placed a hand on her cheek, speaking gently yet firmly. "God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. Chris has his family, and it has made him weak. You'll have to bear this burden, Kate."
Gerard straightened up, his voice resolute. "Our line is matriarchal—our first hunter was a woman. Strength runs in your blood. Don't be swayed."
Kate nodded, almost shouting, "Yes." Gerard turned, heading out of the tunnel, his figure gradually fading into the shadows. As he left, Kate felt an uneasy feeling gnawing at her. Derek was indeed odd, maybe a bit naive, but he was harmless. If he weren't at the house that night, could they blame her? And what harm could "soft little Derek" do anyway?
Pushing the thought aside, she continued down the corridor. She needed to contact the supernatural consultant her family had hired. As hunters, they didn't usually need guidance, but this consultant had promised something new—game-changing things that might make all the difference.
Eli's parents finally returned to the hospital. Eli's mother was talking to the head doctor, adamant about Eli being discharged that day. Eli agreed, glad to go home. Stiles's father had already come to collect him, entering the room with an annoyed look, but as soon as he saw his son asleep, he softened, gathering him up without a word and leaving with a quiet "Get better soon, Eli."
Soon after, Eli's father entered. "Hey, champ, let's go. We're checking out a new place. The landlord will be there soon, so let's move quickly."