Her punch was coming fast. He couldn't think, so he reacted like a vampire by morphing into a bat.
The grip on his collar vanished. A whoosh of air from her fist flew through the space where his head had been, hitting the oak and leaving the imprint of her fist in it.
"That could've killed me!"
His tiny bat-heart thumping against his ribs. Things were escalating too fast for him, one moment being genuine advice, next one genuine death.
"Death, no. Severely injured, yes."
She smiled and copied him, her body morphing into a bat, shooting towards him with her tiny fist ready for another strike.
The forest canopy was a deathtrap, a chaotic labyrinth of branches. But as Ryker dodged and weaved through them, his racing heartbeat caused by fear gradually turned into excitement. This was fun.
But this was still a bat fight, where the winner wasn't determined by who flew into the most branches. Rosy would've lost.
He misjudged a turn, his wings clipping a pine branch, sending him into a dizzying spiral. Landing on the ground, he looked up only to see a bat crashing into him. Both of them were tumbling onto the forest floor in a flurry of wings and fur.
On the wet mossbed in the forest pinning him down with her sharp claws, she wasn't a bat anymore but a beautiful woman, straddling him with her legs. A smile on her face. Sweat was beating down her face, it gave her a golden glow in the moonlight.
"Running away with your tail between your legs again, Ryker?"
She leaned close. Her warm breath was caressing his cheek.
Of course he wasn't running; he was looking for an opening to get close to her. This was the moment. His claws extended, coating them with ice mana, and he took a swipe at her. She saw it coming. Swiftly, she caught his wrist with superior speed, her grip like an iron shackle.
"Bad move."
Using her own claws on her other hand, she sliced across his forearm. Blood spurted out. A painful grunt involuntarily escaped from Ryker. But he pushed it away and, with his other hand, he managed to catch her off-guard. Ice crystals formed along her wound.
The sudden coldness made her yelp. That was enough.
He kicked her off him. Both of them were breathing hard, lying on the cold moss bed. A bruise on her left cheek. It was small, but it spoke a thousand words.
"Coating your claws with mana is cheating."
She laughed. It was a full-bodied, genuine laugh. Checking on his own wound, he noticed it wasn't deep. The bleeding had already stopped. His hand sank in the dirt as he pushed himself up.
"No rules in a real fight."
He shot back, wiping dirt from his forehead.
She was still lying down, her chest rising up and down from all her laughing, covered in dirt.
"I still won," she smirked.
Ryker rubbed his shoulder where she had punched him, a dull ache throbbing in rhythm with his own heart. His competitiveness wanted to argue. Yet he decided to follow her ill-gotten advice.
"Only 770 more losses to go."
The smirk on her face widened into an impressed grin. Rosy's mismatched eyes, one green like a summer leaf and the other yellow like a flame, studied him with a new respect.
"Maybe you're not so wimpy after all."
Seeing her getting up, he offered her his hand. She took it. Her skin was cool. Pulling her up, he got a closer look at her. Freckles adorned her nose.
"I never noticed you had freckles."
A rare blush colored her cheeks, painting it red.
"Probably because you were too busy drowning in your own pity," she said, wiping some dirt from her jeans.
Ryker let out a laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders.
"Maybe."
They cleaned themselves up, Ryker wincing as he dabbed at the fresh cut on his arm. The climb continued in silence, but the quality of it had changed: No longer strangers sharing a ride, but a duo united by scraped knuckles and the scent of fresh pine.
Reaching the end of the trail, a castle emerged through a break in the trees. The Nosfera Castle. Unlike medieval castles, there weren't any guards, and LEDs decorated the ancient structure. It was a strange fusion.
Music throbbed from within.
Other vampires were emerging from different paths. Some were friends of Rosy. Waving at her friends, she went over. Ryker followed like a lost puppy. They all had an ethereal grace to them, and the way they dressed made it feel like a gothic fashion show.
"Rosy!"
A brown-haired vampire exclaimed, kissing her cheek.
"Celia," Rosy nodded in greeting. The vampire's eyes drifted over to Ryker with a flicker of amusement and disdain. A silent appraisal that had him feeling smaller.
"Is this who I think it is? Last place Larduca?"
Celia's words were silk-wrapped daggers.
Rosy nodded, then turned to stare Ryker in the face. Her smile was mischievous.
"Yup, this is the infamous Ryker."
Taking a step, Ryker squared his shoulders. He was about to make a witty comeback when the massive wooden doors creaked open. The thrum of the music, a heavy beat that vibrated in Ryker's bones, spilled out along with a wave of heat.
"Run along, first year," another one of them said.
Ryker's jaw clenched. But seeing as Rosy made no attempt to defend him and the three of them were most likely older students, he went inside.
The interior of Nosfera castle was even stranger from the inside. A medieval grand hall with vaulted ceilings and stone walls, but filled with modern technology like flatscreen tv. A massive digital display welcomed them.
There was no punch-bowl like at a frat party, instead, there were fountains of blood in the ballroom. Vampires were filling their fancy glasses. Some of them were whispering as Ryker went past them and grabbed a wine glass. His thirst from fighting was intense.
As he tried to fill his glass, a hand stopped him. A vampire that resembled Ian. He even had an entourage behind him.
"Last place shouldn't be drinking the good stuff," the vampire smirked.
"Pig blood is more suited for discount-bin vampires."
He shoved Ryker's hand away. Ryker had to steady himself against the fountain. A tightness in his chest at being called a discount-bin vampire. Deciding to ignore him, he went to another fountain. This one seemed to have a different type of blood with an orange hue to it.
Just like last time, the man stopped him. He grabbed the wine glass from Ryker's hands and set it aside, the red liquid spilling on the pristine floor, a small crime scene in the making.
His eyebrows twitched at this waste of blood wearing a tuxedo.
"Are you actually going to be this petty?" Ryker asked.
Irvin Tepes's laugh was sharp, like breaking glass.
"It's simply my blood-bound duty to educate peasant-grade vampires." His voice dripped with a condescension so thick it felt greasy. "You'd still be drinking with your hands and sleeping on dirt without us Tepes to show you the way of civilized vampirism."
A group of students had formed a circle around them. Even Rosy was glancing at them from afar.
Fighting back against Irvin felt like a waste of energy. But it was also an opportunity. An opportunity to see what the Tepes were made of. Sadly for him, he was too weak. Another idea popped in his head. His pride and glory-seeking never extended to material and monetary things, but this would be a satisfying small win.
So Ryker had walked to the fountain and, with his hands, scooped the blood from the fountain, slurping it noisily.
Irvin's jaw had dropped. The entire ballroom was silent as even the music had stopped.