Chapter 2: Unintended Consequences
847 Words
The scent of garlic clung to Luna’s backpack like a vengeful ghost. She’d discovered Fenrir’s "gift" that morning—three fat bulbs duct-taped beside her algebra textbook. Chloe gagged when Luna unzipped the bag.
"Did he raid an Italian restaurant’s dumpster?" Chloe fanned the air dramatically.
A cool hand plucked the bulbs from Luna’s grasp. Vincent appeared between them, silk scarf already wrapped over his nose. "Trite intimidation tactics." He snapped his fingers. The garlic dissolved into glittering dust that smelled suspiciously of rosemary focaccia.
"Hey! My science project!" Chloe protested.
"Improved it." Vincent tapped Luna’s wrinkled collar. "Though nothing masks your unique… aroma."
Luna swatted his hand. "I smell like cafeteria meatloaf!"
"Petrichor and parchment," Vincent murmured, leaning dangerously close. "With top notes of existential dread."
Gym class was Luna’s personal hell. Today’s torment? Volleyball. She hid behind the bleachers as Coach Riggs bellowed her name.
"Chen! Front and center! Time to shine!"
Fenrir smirked from across the net, spinning a ball like a globe of doom. "Ready to eat floor, Chen?"
The serve came like a cannon shot. Luna squeezed her eyes shut and threw up her hands—
—and caught it.
The ball sat quivering in her palms. Silence swallowed the gym. Sweat dripped into Luna’s eyes.
"LUCKY!" Fenrir roared. "AGAIN!"
This spike aimed straight for her face. Luna swung blind.
CRACK-THWOOMPH!
The ball rocketed upward, shattered a ceiling tile, and wedged in the rafters. Sprinklers erupted. The varsity team shrieked under the deluge. Coach Riggs’ whistle dropped into a puddle.
Vincent’s slow clap echoed. "Splendid form! Though perhaps excessive?"
"Okay, deep dive time." Chloe spread documents across the library table. "Vincent Alistair Nightborne. ‘Transferred’ from Carfax Academy, Transylvania." She slid forward a yellowed yearbook page.
Luna choked on her iced tea. There, between flappers in finger-waved bobs, stood Vincent—same sharp cheekbones, same unsettling eyes—captioned: V. Nightborne, Fencing Champion, 1923.
"Vampire?" Chloe whispered. "Or time-traveling soap opera star?"
"Neither." Vincent plucked the photo away. "My great-uncle. Lost our ancestral castle playing poker with a werewolf." He tapped the mole beneath his left eye. "Family trademark."
Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Why’s he wearing your face?"
"Strong genes." Vincent adjusted his cufflinks. "And excellent bone structure."
Greenhouse humidity curled Luna’s hair as Vincent placed a tomato in her palm. "Control the surge. Gentle pressure."
Luna concentrated. The tomato trembled… then exploded like a blood-filled water balloon. Vincent’s white shirt became a Pollock painting.
"Progress!" He beamed, dabbing seeds from his eyebrow. "Now, breathe."
His hands covered hers. Cold seeped into her skin—
—moonlight bathed stone battlements. She braided silver thread into her hair, Vincent beside her nocking an arrow. "Ready, my storm?" His smile held the warmth of a thousand hearth fires.
"Always." She drew her bow, muscles singing with power—
"Luna!" Vincent’s voice snapped her back. Blood trickled from his nose. Around them, terra-cotta pots lay shattered, geraniums uprooted like fallen soldiers.
Fenrir cornered her at the bike racks. "Nightborne’s little pet." He loomed, amber glints in his eyes. "What’s his damage?"
"Allergies and existential angst," Luna shot back. "Why? Jealous?"
"My cousin vanished near Transylvania." Fenrir dropped a garlic braid into her bike basket. "Right before Pretty Boy appeared." He leaned in, breath hot. "Give him this. See if he… sizzles."
Vincent’s reaction was instantaneous. He recoiled against his vintage Rolls Royce, sunglasses materializing. "Blackwood’s aromatic assault?"
Luna rummaged through her bag. "Chloe’s emergency kit!" She shoved sugar-free wintergreen mints into his mouth.
Vincent froze. Slowly, his fangs retracted. "...Refreshing." He captured her wrist. "Your resourcefulness remains unmatched."
Twilight painted the rooftop in lavender and gold. Vincent spread a tartan blanket. "Lesson two: Velocity." He balanced an apple on Luna’s head. "Don’t blink."
Wind stirred her hair. The apple vanished. Vincent reappeared holding two perfect slices. "Your instincts awaken."
"How?" Luna bit into crisp sweetness.
"Muscle memory transcends lifetimes." He traced her palm lines. "Your soul remembers its true strength."
Luna hesitated. "The castle dream… that was us?"
Vincent’s gaze turned distant. "The night the wolves came for our wedding feast." He touched a hidden scar. "You took an arrow meant for my heart."
Chain-link fencing rattled. Fenrir leaned against the doorframe, tossing Luna’s garlic-filled backpack. "Touching." His smile showed too many white teeth. "Need pest control?"
Vincent rose smoothly. "Leave."
"Make me." Fenrir cracked his knuckles.
SPLOOSH! A water balloon exploded on Fenrir’s shoulder, drenching him in liquid that reeked of garlic and chili oil. Chloe’s laughter crackled from a drone overhead: "Prototype #3 works!"
Fenrir howled, scrubbing his eyes. Vincent offered Luna his arm. "Shall we? The garlic fumes are ruining the ambiance."
That night, Luna examined Vincent’s pocket watch. Moonlight glinted off the engraved lid:
To my storm-haired warrior - V
Samhain, 1486
As she traced the date, the watch chimed—a melody that echoed her archery memory. Outside her window, a shadow stirred in the oak tree. Vincent’s eyes burned crimson in the dark.
"Rest well, my heart," drifted his whisper on the wind. "The pack has caught our scent."
- Writer
