Ethan stood in the dim glow of his living room, the silence of the house pressing in like a heavy fog. Jamie's car had just rumbled away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Tomorrow loomed large—he needed to replace the splintered front door before his mother returned from her cruise ship job, but more than that, Ryan's silence gnawed at him. 'If they turned me into a vampire, why aren't they doing anything? Why so quiet?' The question twisted in his gut, fear mingling with a desperate need for answers. He wanted to confront Ryan, to demand what the ritual had done, but the memory of those red eyes stopped him cold.
Throughout the day, Ethan had noticed his senses sharpening, like a radio tuning to a new frequency. Sounds were louder—the hum of the cafeteria, the creak of his chair—cutting through his focus with jarring clarity. Smells, too, were intense; the faint tang of tacos had nearly overwhelmed him at lunch. Now, alone with no distractions, the sensations crashed over him. The tick of the kitchen clock was a hammer in his ears, the scent of the couch stung his nose, and the rough weave of his hoodie scraped his skin like sandpaper. It was too much. He stumbled upstairs, hoping sleep would dull the sensory overload. Even then, his mind raced, and it took hours of tossing before exhaustion pulled him under.
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Jamie's POV
Driving home, I couldn't shake Ethan's words. Supernaturals? Vampires? Part of me wanted to laugh it off as a prank, but Ethan's face—pale, dead serious—kept me from dismissing it. 'He wouldn't lie to me,' I thought, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 'But vampires? What else is out there—witches, werewolves?' The idea sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself scanning the dark streets for anything suspicious—a shadow moving too fast, a glint of red eyes. Bellingham's fog seemed thicker tonight, hiding secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover.
I pulled into the driveway of home, yellow-brick house, the porch light casting a warm glow. Inside, my mom, Linda Carter, was in the kitchen, packing her lunch for the night shift at St. Joseph's Hospital. Her sandy hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she hummed softly, oblivious to my racing thoughts. My dad, Dr. Michael Carter, sat at the dining table, flipping through patient charts, his glasses slipping down his nose. He was a cardiologist, always buried in work, but he had a knack for knowing when something was up with me.
"Hey, Mom, Dad," I said, dropping my keys on the counter with a clink that sounded too loud in my head.
"Hi, sweetie," Mom replied, glancing up with a smile. "You're home late. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, just hanging with Ethan," I said, hesitating. I needed to go with her to the hospital tonight, but I hated those shifts—the sterile halls, the beeping monitors. I'd always refused before, so this was going to raise eyebrows. "Uh, actually, can I come with you to work tonight? I could use the extra cash."
Mom froze, a sandwich halfway to her lunchbox. Dad looked up, one eyebrow raised. "You? Volunteering for a night shift?" he said, his voice teasing but curious. "What's the catch, Jamie?"
"No catch," I lied, leaning against the counter. "Just thought I'd help out. Maybe stock some supplies or something."
Mom narrowed her eyes, studying me like she could see through my skull. "You've complained about the hospital since you were twelve. What's really going on?"
I shifted, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. "Nothing, I swear. Ethan's been… stressed, and I wanna keep busy. Plus, I could use the money for a new game." It wasn't a total lie, but guilt twisted in my chest. I couldn't tell them about the blood bag or Ethan's ritual story—not yet.
Dad chuckled, pushing his glasses up. "Well, I'm not complaining. Linda, if he wants to play nurse's aide, let him."
Mom sighed, but her expression softened. "Fine, but you're not slacking off. You'll help with inventory, and no sneaking snacks from the break room."
"Deal," I said, forcing a grin. My heart raced—step one was done, but sneaking a blood bag was another beast entirely. 'Ethan better appreciate this,' I thought, already dreading the night ahead.
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Third Person POV
Ethan woke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding as he sat up in bed. His room was dark, the faint glow of his alarm clock casting a red haze. 'That was one weird dream,' he thought, fragments flashing back: his body wreathed in flames, burning but painless, and a wolf in fire sleeping there quietly. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, and grabbed his phone. The screen read 5:45 AM—fifteen minutes before his alarm. A message from Jamie glowed: "Got the blood bag. See you at school."
His stomach churned. He wanted to know if he was a vampire, but the thought of blood made his throat tighten. 'What if I lose control? What if I hurt someone?' He forced the fear down, typing a quick "Thanks, man" before heading to the bathroom. The cold water on his face stung more than usual, and the toothpaste's mint was sharp enough to make his eyes water. His senses were still sharpening, a slow creep that left him on edge.
In the kitchen, he made toast and eggs, the sizzle of the pan louder than it should have been, the butter's smell almost overwhelming. 'I miss Mom,' he thought, picturing her bustling around, serving pancakes with a smile. She'd been gone for weeks, working as a chef on a cruise ship, and though she sent money and called when she could, the house felt hollow without her. He didn't know his father—his mother never spoke of him, only saying he'd died before Ethan was born. The mystery of it stung, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the day ahead.
By 7:00 AM, Ethan locked the patched-up door and rode his Yamaha V-Star to Bellingham High. The wind bit his face, carrying the damp scent of rain and pine, sharper than ever. At the school entrance, he spotted Mia with Harper and Jasmine, her chestnut braid catching the morning light. He focused on her, and suddenly, his senses surged, like a dam breaking. The chatter of students across the courtyard flooded his ears—snippets of gossip, laughter, complaints about homework. Perfumes and colognes mingled in a dizzying cloud, floral and musky, making his head spin. He swayed, vision blurring, until a hand tapped his shoulder.
The world snapped back to normal, the noise and smells fading to a manageable hum. Jamie stood there, grinning smugly. "Seems like you've truly become a simp for Mia," he teased. "Staring so hard you zoned out."
Ethan's face burned. "It's not like that," he muttered, lowering his voice. "When I looked at her, my senses went crazy. I could hear stuff from across the school, smell everyone's perfume. It's not normal."
Jamie's grin faded, replaced by worry. "You're not gonna transform and suck blood in the middle of school, are you?"
Before Ethan could answer, the bell rang, and they hurried to English class. Ms. Rivera, their teacher, strode in, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. "Morning, class," she said, her voice crisp. "Before we start, I have an announcement." She took a deep breath, her expression somber. "Jaxson and Carter, friends of Ryan and Frank, were found dead last night. It's a terrible loss."
The room went silent, a chill settling over Ethan. 'Dead?' he thought, his heart racing. His eyes darted to the empty seats where Ryan's crew usually sat. No Ryan, no Frank, no Oscar. The absence felt like a warning, and as Ms. Rivera began the lesson, Ethan's mind spun. 'What's happening?'