CHAPTER 5: SCHOOL SETUP
POV: Peter
The cabin was taking shape.
Peter stood back, surveying the half-built structure with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Four walls—mostly vertical. A roof frame that would probably hold up in anything short of a hurricane. Windows that Esme had insisted on, because "natural light is important for mental health, sweetheart."
The fact that he'd built it using a rotating cast of supernatural abilities probably violated every building code in existence, but at least it was his.
"Looking good," Emmett called from the tree line. The massive vampire was carrying what looked like an entire pallet of roofing materials on one shoulder, moving with the ease of someone carrying a bag of groceries. "You want these inside or outside?"
"Inside," Peter said, wiping sweat from his forehead. Human again, for the third day in a row, and hating every slow, clumsy minute of it. "I'll need to sort them before I can actually use them."
Emmett deposited the materials with careful precision, then stood back, hands on his hips. "You know, if you just stayed vampire for a bit, we could have this whole place finished in like an hour."
"Can't," Peter said shortly. "Twenty-four hour limit, remember?"
"Yeah, but you could just keep mimicking one of us. Reset the timer every day. Stay vampire indefinitely."
The suggestion hit Peter like a punch to the gut. Because yes, technically he could. Could mimic Edward or Alice or any of them, stay transformed, stay strong. The System had never said there was a cooldown between mimics.
"I could stay vampire forever," Peter thought, and the hunger in that thought terrified him.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Continuous transformation theoretically possible. Warning: Extended periods in transformed state increase psychological dependency and baseline identity erosion. Recommendation: Maintain regular reversion cycles to preserve human consciousness integrity.]
"The System says that's a bad idea," Peter said aloud, more to himself than Emmett.
"Your creepy head-voice has opinions on construction timelines?"
"My creepy head-voice has opinions on everything." Peter picked up a hammer, testing its weight. Human strength made it feel heavier than it should. "And it's probably right. Carlisle warned me about getting addicted to the power. Staying vampire all the time would just... I'd lose myself."
Emmett's expression softened. "Yeah, I get that. Took me years to figure out who I was as a vampire. Can't imagine trying to figure it out while ping-ponging between human and monster every day."
"I'm not a monster."
"Didn't say you were. But the vampire part of you? That's monster-adjacent at minimum." Emmett grinned. "It's part of the charm."
Peter wanted to argue, but a sound from the main road caught his attention—an engine, getting closer. He tensed, and Emmett's posture shifted immediately from casual to alert.
"You expecting visitors?" Emmett asked.
"No. You?"
"Nope."
A truck appeared through the trees—old, rusty, spewing exhaust. It pulled to a stop near Peter's tent, and a man climbed out. Fifties, balding, wearing a reflective vest that screamed "official business."
Building inspector, Peter realized with a sinking feeling. Shit.
The man approached with a clipboard and a expression that suggested he'd rather be anywhere else. "You Peter Grayson?"
"That's me."
"Building inspector. Got a complaint about unauthorized construction. You got permits for this?" He gestured at the cabin.
Peter's mind raced. He had permits—forged ones, acquired through compulsion—but they were in the tent, and he wasn't sure they'd hold up to actual scrutiny.
"I've got paperwork," Peter started.
"Let me see it."
Emmett cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm the contractor on this project. Peter here's just the homeowner. All the permits are filed under my company."
The inspector's eyes narrowed. "Your company have a name?"
"Cullen Construction," Emmett said smoothly. "We've done work all over the peninsula. You can check with the county office if you want."
It was a complete lie. Peter knew it, the inspector probably knew it, but Emmett's size and confidence were doing most of the heavy lifting. The inspector made a note on his clipboard, clearly deciding this wasn't worth the hassle.
"I'll be checking on that," he said. "And I'll be back in a week to verify progress. Make sure everything's up to code."
"Looking forward to it," Emmett said with a grin that showed too many teeth.
The inspector climbed back into his truck and drove away, leaving Peter and Emmett standing in silence.
"We don't have permits," Peter said finally.
"Nope."
"And there's no such thing as Cullen Construction."
"Also nope."
"So when he comes back—"
"I'll compel him to forget he was ever here." Emmett's expression was matter-of-fact. "Or you can. Whichever. Point is, problem solved."
Peter's stomach twisted. "That's not—I can't just keep compelling people every time there's an inconvenience."
"Why not? You've got the power. Might as well use it."
"Because it's wrong," Peter said, and heard how futile the words sounded even as he said them. "Because manipulating people's minds makes me no better than—"
"Than a vampire?" Emmett's grin faded. "Dude, newsflash: you ARE a vampire. Part-time, sure, but still. And even when you're human, you've got that permanent compulsion thing. You're already supernatural. Might as well embrace it."
"He's not wrong," Peter thought. "I've been using compulsion since day one. What's one more inspector compared to the bank manager, the town clerk, the businessman in Seattle?"
[NOTIFICATION: Compulsion usage frequency: 7 instances in 72-hour period. Status: Approaching concerning threshold. Warning: Excessive manipulation detected. Continued abuse may trigger System intervention and corrective measures.]
Peter's blood went cold. "Define 'corrective measures.'"
Emmett blinked. "What?"
"Not you. The System. It's warning me about overusing compulsion." Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Says it might trigger an intervention if I keep it up."
"What kind of intervention?"
"It won't say. But knowing the System, probably something humiliating and inconvenient." Peter looked at the half-finished cabin, at the construction materials, at the evidence of everything he'd built through supernatural shortcuts. "I need to stop. I need to find a way to function here without mind-controlling everyone I meet."
"Good luck with that," Emmett said, not unkindly. "You're trying to build a life from nothing, in a town where everyone knows everyone, with no legal identity and no money. Compulsion's pretty much your only option."
"Then I'll find another option." Peter's jaw set. "Starting with school. I need to enroll at Forks High, establish myself as a normal teenager, and I'm going to do it without compulsion."
Emmett's eyebrows rose. "You're going to convince a high school principal to accept a student with no records, no transcripts, and no verifiable history, just by being charming?"
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"Probably." Peter grabbed his jacket from inside the tent. "But I'm going to try anyway. The System wants me to be more careful with compulsion? Fine. I'll be careful."
He started walking toward the road, and Emmett called after him: "You know Bella Swan's starting at Forks High next week, right? The chief's daughter? This is going to get messy."
Peter stopped. Turned. "How do you know about Bella?"
"Alice saw her in a vision. Some human girl who's going to complicate everything." Emmett shrugged. "Edward's already freaking out about it. Says her arrival's going to change everything."
"Because she's his mate," Peter thought, his meta-knowledge a constant weight. "Because she kicks off the entire plot. And I'm supposed to just... what? Watch it happen? Intervene? Pretend I don't know how this story ends?"
"Then I need to be enrolled before she gets here," Peter said. "I need to be established, settled, normal. Otherwise I'm just another new kid, and new kids attract attention."
"You're going to attract attention anyway," Emmett pointed out. "You're weird, dude. Like, aggressively weird. No offense."
"None taken." Peter resumed walking. "But at least I can control the narrative. New kid who's been in town for a week is different from new kid who shows up the same day as the chief's daughter."
He made it to the main road before Emmett caught up, moving with casual vampire speed that made Peter's human pace look pathetic by comparison.
"You want a ride?" Emmett asked. "I've got the Jeep."
"No. I need to do this myself." Peter kept walking, even though his legs were already aching. "But thanks for the offer. And thanks for the cover story with the inspector."
"No problem. Just... be careful, okay? The System's not the only thing watching you. Edward's suspicious, Rosalie thinks you're a liability, and Jasper's constantly monitoring your emotions like you're a bomb waiting to go off."
"I am a bomb waiting to go off," Peter said quietly. "I'm a human with the ability to copy supernatural powers, dropped into the middle of a vampire story I'm not supposed to be part of. Every day I don't explode is a minor miracle."
Emmett was silent for a moment. Then: "For what it's worth, I think you're doing okay. Better than okay, actually. Most people would've cracked by now."
"Give it time," Peter said. "I'm sure I'll crack eventually."
But he kept walking anyway, because what other choice did he have?
Forks High School looked exactly like every small-town high school Peter had ever seen on TV: low brick buildings, a parking lot full of rusting trucks, and a marquee announcing the upcoming Spring Fling dance. It was aggressively normal, and Peter felt like an alien visiting from another planet.
The principal's office was in the main building, past a secretary who looked up from her computer with the practiced smile of someone who dealt with teenage drama for a living.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I need to speak with Principal Greene," Peter said. "About enrolling."
The secretary's smile flickered. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but—"
"Principal Greene only sees people by appointment. You'll need to call ahead and—"
"Please," Peter interrupted, and forced himself not to let compulsion bleed into the word. "I'm new to Forks. I've been trying to get enrolled for days, but I keep hitting bureaucratic walls. I just need five minutes to explain my situation. That's all."
The secretary studied him, and Peter could see her weighing options—send him away and stick to protocol, or bend the rules for a kid who looked genuinely desperate.
"Let me see if he's available," she said finally, picking up the phone.
Peter waited, hands clenched in his pockets, and tried not to think about how much easier this would be with compulsion. One word, one push, and she'd let him through without question.
"But that's the problem," he reminded himself. "That's always going to be the easy answer. And easy answers are how you lose yourself."
The secretary hung up. "He can give you five minutes. Don't waste them."
"Thank you," Peter said, and meant it.
Principal Greene's office smelled of old coffee and bureaucracy. The man himself was maybe sixty, with gray hair and the tired expression of someone who'd been dealing with teenagers longer than Peter had been alive.
"Mr. Grayson," Greene said, gesturing to a chair. "My secretary says you're trying to enroll."
"Yes sir." Peter sat, keeping his posture open and non-threatening. "I'm new to Forks. Just moved here, and I need to finish my senior year."
"Where are you transferring from?"
This was the tricky part. "I've been homeschooled," Peter said, which was technically not a lie if you counted "learning how not to die in a supernatural world" as education. "My situation's been... complicated. But I'm settled in Forks now, and I need a real diploma."
Greene frowned. "Homeschooled students usually have transcripts. Documentation of coursework, test scores, that kind of thing."
"I know. And I'm working on getting those together. But the process is taking time, and I don't want to fall behind. I was hoping you could give me provisional enrollment. Let me start attending classes while the paperwork gets sorted."
"That's highly irregular."
"I know. But I'm a good student, I won't cause problems, and I genuinely want to learn. Isn't that worth something?"
Greene studied him for a long moment. Peter could feel the man's skepticism, his bureaucratic resistance to anything outside standard procedure. This was the moment. He could compel, could push, could make this easy.
Instead, he waited.
"You said your situation was complicated," Greene said finally. "Care to elaborate?"
Peter took a breath. "My parents aren't in the picture. I've been on my own for a while, and that's made traditional schooling difficult. But I'm trying to build a real life here in Forks. A stable life. And that starts with finishing high school properly."
It wasn't the whole truth, but it was close enough. And something in Greene's expression shifted—not quite sympathy, but understanding.
"I'll tell you what," the principal said. "I'll give you two weeks of provisional enrollment. Attend classes, prove you can keep up with the coursework, and I'll work with you on the documentation side. But if you cause problems, or if it turns out you're not actually capable of senior-level work, this ends immediately. Understood?"
Relief flooded through Peter's chest. "Understood. Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."
"See that you don't." Greene pulled out a form and began filling it in. "You'll start Monday. That gives you the weekend to prepare. Pick up your schedule from the front office before you leave."
Peter walked out of the principal's office feeling lighter than he had in days. No compulsion. No mind control. Just honest conversation and a willingness to work within the system.
[NOTIFICATION: Compulsion usage: Zero instances in interaction. Progress noted. Recommendation: Continue current approach to social integration. Host demonstrates improved judgment.]
"Thanks for the validation," Peter muttered, picking up his schedule from the secretary.
The classes were standard—English, Math, History, Biology, PE. Nothing he couldn't handle, assuming his fragmented memories of high school from his old life were still relevant.
He was studying the schedule when someone bumped into him from behind.
"Sorry," a male voice said. "Didn't see you there."
Peter turned and found himself face-to-face with a teenager his apparent age—brown hair, friendly smile, letterman jacket that screamed "small-town athlete."
"No problem," Peter said.
"You're new, right? I'm Mike Newton." The kid stuck out his hand. "Junior. Play on the basketball team. You play any sports?"
Peter shook his hand, noting the firm grip and the evaluating look in Mike's eyes. This was a sizing-up—social hierarchy establishment, figuring out where the new kid fit.
"Not really," Peter said. "More of an academic type."
Mike's interest dimmed slightly. "Cool, cool. Well, if you need someone to show you around, I'm usually in the cafeteria during lunch. Just look for the loud table."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
Mike wandered off, and Peter was left holding his schedule and processing the interaction. Normal teenage socialization. No supernatural threats, no vampire politics, just awkward small talk with a classmate.
"This is what I wanted," he reminded himself. "A chance to be normal. To build a life that isn't just about survival and power."
But even as he thought it, his mind was already planning his next hunt. Seattle had been productive, but there were more abilities to collect. More powers to mimic. And he was only at two out of ten toward his next permanent unlock.
[NOTIFICATION: Progress tracker updated. Abilities mimicked: 2/10. Recommendation: Accelerate acquisition rate to reach permanent unlock milestone. Note: Upcoming narrative event will provide opportunity for additional mimics.]
"Upcoming narrative event?" Peter said under his breath. "You mean Bella?"
[CLARIFICATION: Multiple supernatural entities will converge during projected timeline. Host advised to prepare for increased mimic opportunities and associated complications.]
Peter left the school feeling the weight of that warning. The story was about to start—the real story, the one he knew from books and movies. Bella would arrive, Edward would be drawn to her, and everything would spiral from there.
And he was supposed to just... exist in the middle of it. Collecting powers. Building a life. Trying not to break reality.
"No pressure," Peter thought, and started the long walk back to his cabin.
Seattle smelled different at night.
The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and reflective. Neon signs bled color across puddles, and the alleys between buildings were mouths of shadow that could hide anything.
Peter moved through the city with vampire senses on full alert, tracking a scent he'd picked up near Pike Place Market—death and cold and something distinctly other. His second day as a vampire this week, mimicking Edward's telepathy again because it was familiar and the mental shields were useful.
"I'm becoming predictable," Peter thought. "Always mimicking the same abilities because they're safe. I need to branch out. Need to find new powers."
The scent led him to an alley in Belltown, narrow and littered with trash. Peter slowed, his predatory instincts screaming caution. Something was here. Something supernatural.
Movement flickered at the alley's far end—too fast to be human, but not quite vampire speed. Peter's enhanced vision caught details: dark clothing, pale skin, eyes that reflected light like an animal's.
"I know you're there," a voice called. Female, with an accent Peter couldn't place. "You've been following me for three blocks. Either attack or introduce yourself."
Peter stepped into the alley, hands visible and non-threatening. "I'm not here to attack. I'm just... curious."
The vampire—because it had to be a vampire—emerged from the shadows. She was maybe five-foot-six, with short dark hair and features that suggested Asian descent. Her eyes were red, not gold, marking her as a human-drinker.
"Curious," she repeated, tilting her head. "About me specifically, or vampires in general?"
"Your ability," Peter said honestly. "I can sense supernatural powers, and yours is... different. Not like the others I've encountered."
Her expression sharpened with interest. "You're a tracker. That's rare."
"Something like that." Peter took a careful step closer. "What's your ability? If you don't mind me asking."
"I do mind, actually." Her smile showed teeth. "Information isn't free, little vampire. What are you willing to trade?"
Peter's mind raced. This was dangerous—negotiating with a human-drinking vampire in a dark alley. But the System's presence hummed in the back of his mind, and he knew he could mimic her if he got within range.
"Knowledge for knowledge," Peter offered. "I'll tell you something about me if you tell me something about you."
She laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "You're bold. I like that. Fine. I'll go first." She held up her hand, and Peter watched as her fingers seemed to blur, moving faster than even vampire speed should allow. "Enhanced tracking. Not just scent and sound like normal vampires. I can track supernatural signatures—the unique energy each being produces. It's how I knew you were following me. You broadcast like a beacon."
[SUPERNATURAL ENTITY DETECTED. Range: 4 meters. Available abilities: Enhanced Supernatural Tracking - Vampire - Unknown Entity. SELECT ABILITY TO MIMIC. Warning: Transformation will occur mid-conversation. Recommend strategic timing.]
"Your turn," the vampire said. "What makes you special?"
Peter weighed his options. He could lie, could deflect. Or he could use compulsion—his permanent ability—to smooth over this interaction.
Or he could be honest.
"I can copy abilities," Peter said. "Temporarily. When I'm near a supernatural being, I can mimic their power. Like yours, for example."
Her eyes widened fractionally. "That's impossible."
"So is a vampire who can track supernatural energy." Peter tilted his head. "We're both anomalies. Might as well acknowledge it."
She studied him for a long moment, then smiled—genuinely this time, without the predatory edge. "You're either very brave or very stupid. I haven't decided which yet."
"Little of both, probably."
"I'm Kenji," she said. "And you're about to copy my ability, aren't you? I can feel your power reaching toward mine. It's like... static electricity before a storm."
Peter blinked. "You can feel that?"
"Enhanced tracking, remember? I sense supernatural signatures. And yours is doing something very strange right now." Kenji's expression shifted to curiosity. "Go ahead. Copy it. I want to see what happens."
"You're giving me permission?"
"I'm interested in your power. Consider it research." She gestured. "Besides, it's not like you could actually hurt me with my own ability. I already know all its limitations."
Peter didn't waste time questioning the gift. "System, mimic Enhanced Supernatural Tracking."
[SELECTION CONFIRMED: Enhanced Supernatural Tracking. Race transformation: Vampire. Duration: 24:00:00. Note: Host already in vampire form via previous mimic. Ability swap in progress. Previous ability (Telepathy & Advanced Compulsion) will be replaced.]
The world shifted.
Peter's senses, already enhanced by vampire physiology, suddenly exploded into a new dimension. He could see energy now—not with his eyes, but with something deeper. Kenji blazed in his awareness like a bonfire, her supernatural signature bright and complex. And beyond her, threading through the city, he could sense others. Dozens of presences, each unique, each broadcasting their existence like radio signals.
"Oh my god," Peter breathed. "There are so many. How do you—how do you not go insane from the noise?"
"Practice," Kenji said, watching him with clinical interest. "You learn to filter. Focus on what's important, let the rest fade into background static. Right now you're trying to sense everything at once. That's overwhelming."
Peter closed his eyes, trying to follow her advice. The supernatural signatures slowly organized themselves into categories—vampires here, something else there, and in the distance, a cluster of energy that felt distinctly wrong.
"What's that?" Peter asked, pointing northeast.
Kenji's expression darkened. "Trouble. There's a group of nomads hunting in Capitol Hill. They're not careful about covering their kills. I've been avoiding them."
"Why?"
"Because they're stronger than me, and they don't play well with others." She tilted her head. "You're new to this, aren't you? To the vampire world, I mean. You move like a newborn, but you think like someone older."
"It's complicated." Peter opened his eyes. "Thank you for letting me copy your ability. And for not killing me."
"Don't thank me yet. Those nomads I mentioned? They just noticed us." Kenji's posture shifted into combat readiness. "Your bright little signature just painted a target on both our backs."
Peter's enhanced tracking sense confirmed it—two supernatural signatures moving toward them with purpose, cutting through the city like sharks through water.
"Run or fight?" Peter asked.
"Neither. Negotiate." Kenji's smile was sharp again. "Follow my lead, and try not to do anything stupid."
The nomads arrived seconds later—two male vampires, both larger than Peter, moving with the confidence of predators who'd never known fear. Red eyes marked them as human-drinkers, and the scars on their exposed skin suggested they'd survived more than a few fights.
"Kenji," the first one said, his voice a rumble. "Who's your friend?"
"No one important," Kenji said smoothly. "Just a newborn I'm showing around. We'll be leaving now."
"Wait." The second nomad focused on Peter, his expression sharpening. "There's something off about you. Your signature's all wrong. Like you're vampire but not. What are you?"
Peter's mind raced. He could fight—he had vampire strength and Kenji's tracking ability. But these were experienced vampires, and he was barely a week into this existence.
Or he could use his other permanent ability.
Peter met the second nomad's eyes and let compulsion flow out like water. "I'm no one important. Just a newborn. You're going to forget you saw anything unusual and let us leave. This conversation never happened."
The nomad's expression went slack. "Newborn," he repeated. "Nothing unusual."
The first nomad turned to his companion, frowning. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. They're just a newborn and a tracker. Not worth our time."
Peter kept the compulsion steady, adding weight to it. "You're going to leave. Right now. And you're going to forget we were ever here."
Both nomads turned and left, their movements mechanical and purposeful. Peter held the compulsion until they were out of sight, then released it with a gasp.
"What the hell was that?" Kenji demanded. "You're a newborn with mind control?"
"Told you I was special." Peter's hands were shaking. "We should go. Before they snap out of it and come back angry."
They ran, and this time Peter had no trouble keeping up. His vampire body moved with liquid grace, and Kenji's tracking ability let him sense every supernatural presence for blocks, plotting a route that avoided them all.
They stopped near the waterfront, where the smell of salt and fish covered their scent. Kenji turned to him, her expression caught between awe and suspicion.
"You're either going to change the vampire world or get yourself killed," she said. "Possibly both."
"Working on neither," Peter replied. "Look, thanks for the crash course in tracking and nomad politics. I owe you one."
"You owe me several." Kenji's smile was genuine. "But I'll collect later. Be careful out there, copycat. Not everyone will be as friendly as me."
She vanished into the night, moving with the speed that made her more myth than solid, and Peter was left alone with his new ability and the knowledge that he'd just barely avoided disaster.
[NOTIFICATION: Ability acquired: Enhanced Supernatural Tracking. Progress: 3/10. Note: Host demonstrated improved combat judgment and strategic compulsion usage. Performance: Acceptable.]
"Acceptable," Peter muttered. "I'll take it."
He spent the rest of the night exploring his new sense, learning to filter the supernatural noise into useful information. By the time dawn broke, he could identify vampires by their signatures, distinguish between nomads and coven members, and track movement patterns through the city.
It was intoxicating. And terrifying. And absolutely, completely addictive.
The bus ride back to Forks felt too long. Peter sat in the back, his vampire form drawing curious looks from the few other passengers, and tried not to think about how much he didn't want to revert to human.
"Twenty-three hours," he thought. "Then I'm weak again. Mortal again. Useless again."
[WARNING: Host demonstrating concerning attachment to transformed state. Recommendation: Psychological evaluation upon reversion. Note: Dependency patterns increasing.]
"I know," Peter whispered. "I know I'm getting addicted. But how do I stop wanting to be strong? How do I accept being breakable when I've felt what it's like to be indestructible?"
The System didn't answer. Maybe because it didn't have an answer. Or maybe because it knew Peter wouldn't like what it had to say.
Either way, Peter spent the ride home trying to memorize the feeling of power, knowing that by tomorrow morning, it would be gone again.
Knowing that he'd do almost anything to get it back.