Blood on Fire

Chapter13

I let out a tired breath. My head felt too full, my chest heavy. “I just want to go home,” I whispered.

Stephen stepped forward, his voice soft. “Selene—”

Veronica rolled her eyes and walked to the door, her expression unreadable. She swung it open and leaned against the frame with a lazy smirk.

“Let her go,” she said coldly. “But if she comes back wearing that little hunter badge and tries to kill us…” She looked at me, her voice dropping into a flat warning. “I won’t show mercy.”

Stephen clenched his jaw but didn’t argue. He turned to me and nodded, then stepped aside. I walked slowly, my legs still shaky, the ache in my wrists from the ropes pulsing with each step.

“Let me drive you home,” Stephen offered gently, reaching out to hold my hand.

I flinched without meaning to.

He noticed. His hand dropped away, and the pain in his eyes only deepened.

“No, Stephen,” I said quietly. “Please.” I stopped in the doorway, my voice barely holding together. “I’m not sure if I can forgive you right now. My head... it hurts from everything .”

There was silence.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to explain. He just nodded.

As I turned to go, Veronica called after me with a mocking smile, “See you around, human!”

I didn’t look back. I just rolled my eyes and kept walking, one hand pressed over my wrist where the rope had dug into my skin. It still stung. I could feel Stephen watching me from the doorway as I left.

This day... this day shattered everything.

My alarm clock blared, dragging me out of a dreamless sleep. I reached over and turned it off, but I didn’t move. I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of last night pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.

I couldn’t sleep properly after what happened.

How could I? My best friend, Stephen, is a vampire. And not just him. His sister, too. Veronica, cold as ice, with eyes that felt like they could see through your soul. Everything I thought I knew about them shattered in a single night.

I ran the entire conversation through my head again. Over and over. Stephen’s voice. Veronica’s warnings. Their past. Their pain. I wanted to understand them, really. They lost their family, too. Just like I did. Maybe we were the same in that way, both chasing ghosts of the people we loved, both broken in different ways.

But still… he lied to me. For years.

He made me believe he was just like everyone else. A normal guy. My best friend. Someone I could trust. And now, I don’t even know what was real anymore.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. No matter how much it hurt, the world wasn’t going to stop spinning. And I couldn’t afford to fall behind. I was a hunter even if no one else knew it. I stood, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a glass of water. The cold drink helped clear my head a little. Then I went through the motions, washed up, got dressed, brushed my hair, trying to pretend everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

Not really.

The air felt heavier. The streets looked different. The world hadn’t changed, but I had. And I walked to school alone, pretending nothing was wrong, pretending I wasn’t carrying a storm inside me.

I walked to my locker and opened it, still half-hoping I’d see Stephen down the hall.

Nothing. Just silence and rows of metal doors. I sighed, pulled out my books, and one slipped through my fingers. It clattered to the floor. I bent to grab it, but another hand beat me to it. The moment the book lifted, a faint copper-sweet scent hit my nose.

Vampire?

I looked up.

Wendy.

She forced a thin smile and held out the book. “Here.”

Maybe I was jumpy after last night. I took the book and pushed my glasses up. “Thanks.”

She wore a black turtleneck, odd for her. Wendy usually showed off her skin, proud and bright. Today her face looked pale, almost gray.

“Where’s Stephen?” she asked, glancing around. “First time I’ve seen you without him.”

“He… had something to do,” I lied. My voice sounded hollow in my own ears.

Wendy reached into her tote and pulled out two coffees. “I got you one,” she said, handing me a cup.

Why so friendly? Was this about Stephen?

I accepted, took a sip, heat burned down my throat. “It’s good.” I noticed she didn’t drink hers.

Before I could ask, her eyes darted left and right, as if she was afraid someone might hear. A chill crept down my spine.

“Wendy, are you okay?” I whispered.

Her knees buckled. I caught her just in time. She clutched my sleeve and breathed, “Help me.”

Classes had already started, so the hall was empty. I wrapped her arm over my shoulder and hurried toward the clinic. But halfway there, Wendy shoved me hard into the women’s restroom. I stumbled, hit the cold tile floor, and heard the lock snap shut behind us.

I stood slowly. Wendy’s back was to me, her shoulders shaking. Hair hung over her face in a dark curtain.

“Wendy…?” I reached for the stake knife in my jacket, but my pocket was empty.

A low laugh echoed off the tiles.

“Looking for this?” She turned, holding my stake between two fingers.

I took a step back. She tossed the weapon into a stall and kicked the door shut.

Her body jerked like a puppet on broken strings. Then her head snapped up, eyes glowing faintly red, fangs peeking past her lips.

“Damn!,” I said, edging toward the exit.

“Stop!” she hissed, like she was trying to fight something inside her, trying to stop herself from losing control.

The door handle wouldn’t budge.

No choice. I raised my fists.

Wendy lunged. I dodged, grabbed her wrist, and used her momentum to slam her into the sink. The mirror cracked.

She snarled and swung a wild backhand that missed by inches. I ducked, rolled toward the stall, and yanked the door open. My fingers wrapped around the stake.

Wendy charged. We crashed onto the floor, her claws scraping my throat. I blocked with my forearm, pain flared and drove the stake up toward her heart.