Michael watched James select the sour gummies with a look of mild amusement.
Personally, he would have opted for a bag of premium dog food for those creatures, but it was clear he and James held very different opinions on the local lycanthropes.
"A sensible choice," Michael murmured, leaning against the adjacent vending machine with his arms loosely crossed.
"Though if you truly wanted to gain their favor, I would have recommended a raw ribeye or perhaps a squeaky toy. The yield on your investment would be significantly higher."
James glanced back at him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You know, the subtle prejudice in your voice is pretty hard to miss."
"Oh, my naive friend, it is not prejudice—it is merely an observation based on centuries of evidence."
James didn't buy that for a second, rolling his eyes as he pocketed the bag of candy.
"Look, I get that they can be wild, but they still have individual tastes. Caius, for instance, seems to have a massive soft spot for sweets—especially cornbread."
Michael's face remained a complete, impassive mask. "I highly doubt that."
James began to realize the grudge between vampires and werewolves ran even deeper than he initially thought.
A sudden, uneasy thought crossed his mind: would he get in trouble with the pack if they found out he was hanging around Michael?
Then again, James reasoned, they somehow pulled a complete background check on me within days of meeting me. They definitely already know.
The only way they wouldn't is if their dossier strictly focused on immediate threats to the pack rather than his social life on campus.
"Keep up that attitude and I'm buying you a bundle of fresh garlic for your birthday,"
James deadpanned, unhooking his heavy, overstuffed backpack from his chair and swinging it over his shoulder as he turned toward the hallway leading to his math class.
Michael followed alongside him with effortless, fluid strides.
"Oh, goody. Can it be garlic bread? It really is quite delicious."
James stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in surprise.
"Wait... doesn't your kind hate garlic?"
Michael put a hand over his chest, looking deeply offended. "And doesn't your kind love watermelon?"
James froze as the absurdity of his own words hit him. "Okay... fair point. Saying 'your kind' was definitely a bad choice of words."
Michael wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head with mock pride.
"It's only been a month and you've already adopted their ancient prejudices. They grow up so fast."
James gritted his teeth, holding back a sigh. He knew better than to try and win a verbal sparring match with Michael right now.
"Jeez, alright, I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted," Michael replied, a faint smirk returning to his face.
"And to answer your earlier assumption—no, we don't mind garlic at all. In fact, it adds wonderful flavor to a dish."
"Huh?" James frowned, his pop-culture knowledge crumbling.
"But literally every book, comic, and movie says it's lethal to vampires."
"You are aware that Midnight exists, correct?" Michael asked, casting a thoroughly bored glance at James as they walked through the bustling corridor.
James chuckled slightly.
"Right. Caius actually called that movie an abomination and an absolute insult to supernatural history."
Michael smiled sweetly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "I am so glad he enjoyed it."
The sarcasm radiating off Michael was thick enough to choke on.
Meanwhile, deep within the dense woodlands bordering the edge of town, Caius suddenly paused mid-stride near the pack's training grounds.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sharp itch prickling at his skin. Something felt entirely off—as if his name was currently being dragged into some absurd, far-away conversation.
"Come on, do we really have to do this right now?" Talia groaned, slumping back against the heavy wooden study table inside the pack's main lodge.
She stared down at the ancient, leather-bound textbook with absolute disdain.
Across the table, the cabin co-captain tapped his knuckles against the wood with a firm, unyielding rhythm.
"Learning Latin is mandatory for all high-ranking pack members. Stop whining and get back to page forty."
Talia let out a frustrated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. She already knew Latin—or at least, she was fairly certain she did.
Being forced to sit through remedial grammar drills was pure torture.
"But I already learned all of this!" she protested, pouting as she glared at the dense lines of text.
"Why do I have to sit here and redo it?"
Caius raised an eyebrow, adjusting his reading glasses. "The last time you actively studied Latin, you were eighteen years old. You are in your fifties now and haven't spoken a single full sentence of the language in decades."
Talia puffed out her cheeks, resting her chin on her hand. "I remember it just fine!"
It was almost certainly a lie, and they both knew it.
Caius leaned forward, a sly, knowing glint in his eyes. "Very well. If your memory is so immaculate, translate this for me on the spot: how do you say, 'I want lemon for dinner tonight' in Latin?"
Talia blinked, her mind going entirely blank. First of all, she thought, her lips twitching with annoyance, who in their right mind eats a raw lemon for dinner?
Talia squinted down at the weathered parchment, her brain frantically digging through old memories to unearth the Latin she had learned back when she was roughly James's age.
Unfortunately, all she could locate was a chaotic clutter of Nordic runes and snippets of spirit tongue—dialects she actually used on a regular basis.
"Uhh... Ego volo... lemona... ad cenam vespere?" she guessed, her pitch rising at the end like a hesitant question.
She was fairly sure it was something along those lines.
After all, wasn't Latin basically just French, English, and Spanish tossed into a blender?
Caius looked like he had fully anticipated this disaster.
He slowly snapped his leather-bound book shut, setting it on the heavy oak desk before staring at her with an utterly blank expression.
"Lemona?" he repeated, his brow furrowing in deep disapproval.
"First of all, 'lemon' as a distinct concept didn't even exist in Classical Latin—you would use citrea."
Talia groaned loudly, letting her head drop onto the desk with a dull thud.
"I was close enough," she mumbled into the wood. She really didn't want to be stuck doing academic drills right now.
She wanted to draw her blade and go practice her forms—it felt like it had been an eternity since their last actual mission.
"We live in the States," she complained, sitting up and crossing her arms. "Why on earth do I need to memorize a dead language anyway?"
Caius didn't even bother looking up as he straightened his notes.
"It may be a dead language to humans, but it remains remarkably useful for incantations, warding runes, and binding rituals, among other vital practices."
He paused, resting his hands on the table as he met her glare. "Furthermore, you are well aware that half the ancient texts stored in our vault are written entirely in Latin."
Talia pouted, slumping back in her chair. "I know, but Nordic runes are way more fun than Latin."
Studying under the old druids had definitely paid off in that department—even if she had only mastered the fundamentals, and even if those eccentric old bastards insisted on living in deep subterranean caverns or shifting realms like Nidavellir and Svartalfheim.
Caius's eyes drifted to the sheath resting against her back.
His gaze lingered on the faint, glowing symbols etched into the steel—a precise blend of protective wards and a personal safety rune that kept the blade from severing her own limbs, which was the only reason she could sleep with a lethal weapon tucked under her blankets without cutting herself to ribbons.
"It is essential to your training," Caius stated with quiet authority, tapping the parchment with his index finger. "So learn it."
Recognizing that further arguing was pointless, Talia let out a defeated sigh and slumped over the textbook.
She silently prayed that James would hurry up and bring her those sour gummies.
Learning ancient languages was hungry work.
Time Skip
James was completely drained after his math class, but at least the professor was chill, so it wasn't the absolute worst.
Michael had to head home early and seemed a tiny bit tense.
James didn't know why, but he had long since learned not to pry into a vampire's personal business.
From what he'd gathered during their chats, garlic wasn't some magical vampire repellent at all.
In reality, eating garlic actually enhanced a human's scent, making their blood far more potent and irresistible to a vampire—almost like a natural spice or marinade.
Plus, the elevated blood circulation caused by eating it was just an added bonus for them.
All this was to say: garlic didn't do a damn thing to stop them. They could eat that stuff without a second thought.
James also knew for a fact that the old legend about vampires lacking a reflection was pure fiction, considering he had plenty of pictures with Michael saved on his phone and had physically seen his reflection in class windows before.
However, the ancient rule about them being unable to cross a threshold without an invitation?
That one was very real, and it worked like a charm.
Which also meant that since James had already invited Michael into his crib once, the guy now had full, permanent access whenever he pleased. Yikes.
Dragging his feet all the way back home, the first thing James did after unlocking the front door was collapse onto his bed for a solid hour, procrastinating like any self-respecting college student would.
Eventually, he forced his exhausted body up and into the bathroom, taking a long, scalding shower to scrub away the lingering fatigue.
Freshly changed into comfy clothes, he finally decided it was time to tackle his stack of homework.
Stepping into his room, he sank into his desk setup, cracked his knuckles, and booted up his computer. It was time to lock in.
Time Skip
"Data analysis is so ridiculously boring," James groaned, rubbing his tired eyes as he checked the digital clock on his screen.
It was already 6:00 PM. Mind you, his last class had wrapped up around 1:50 PM, he'd gotten home by 2:30 PM, procrastinated for an hour, and had been grinding away at this tedious assignment for the past three hours straight.
He had accidentally entered a absolute flow state.
"Wait... I'm actually finished?" James stared at his monitor in total disbelief.
This level of coursework used to take him days of painstaking effort.
Yet as he scrolled back through the pages of complex equations and spreadsheets he'd just churned out in record time, he realized he wasn't just caught up—he was completely ahead of schedule for his math course.
Even crazier, his brain had effortlessly absorbed every single concept. It felt less like he was learning it for the first time and more like he was simply recalling information he already knew by heart.
That's definitely new, James thought, shaking his head. Oh well, no use complaining.
That was officially enough homework for the day. He felt a sudden pang of regret for not keeping that mysterious book Selene had given him—it would have been the perfect time to dive into its pages.
But now, with all his assignments obliterated, he was left with an empty schedule and nothing to do.
"Guess I actually have some free time," James muttered, leaning all the way back in his gaming chair with a bewildered laugh.
He never thought he'd see the day where he ran out of stuff to do.
Time Skip
Since he had time to kill and the shop didn't close for a few more hours, he decided he might as well grind some levels on Genesis of Nightbound.
He wasn't entirely sure when the werewolves were going to come pick him up—or if he was expected to trek out into the woods himself to find them.
Heh, maybe, he thought with a dry chuckle, but for now, I've got a game to grind.
Since it was early October and the afternoon heat had given way to a brisk autumn breeze, James grabbed a comfortable jacket.
It definitely wasn't peak summer anymore.
Ready to head out, he made his way downstairs and made sure to lock the heavy door behind him as he exited his apartment building.
With his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, he set off toward the game store.
Even though it was already six in the evening, the sun was still hanging above the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the street.
It would set pretty soon, but James didn't mind the fading light or the cool wind brushing against his face. It felt nice.
Mother nature was surprisingly refreshing today.
\Wild… human...\
James froze mid-stride. Wait... He recognized that distinct, raspy voice. Turning his head, his eyes landed on a glossy black crow perched atop a low brick wall.
"Oh, hey! Nice to see you," James said with a bright smile.
He walked over to the bird, holding out a hand.
Without hesitation, the crow fluttered up and landed gently on his shoulder, its claws gripping the fabric of his jacket.
"If I had some breadcrumbs on me, I'd offer you a snack," James murmured, reaching up to lightly stroke the fluffy feathers near its neck.
\Oh, shiny...\ The crow tilted its head, its dark, intelligent eyes locking onto the silver chain hanging around James's neck.
"Sorry, buddy, can't give you that," James chuckled, gently shaking his head.
Thwack.
The crow delivered a swift, playful peck to the back of James's head.
"Ouch!" James winced, rubbing the spot. It didn't actually hurt—it felt more like a light pinch—but the sharp suddenness of it caught him off guard.
"Okay, okay! What brings you around here anyway?"
James glanced around, secretly hoping he might spot a pretzel stand or a bakery to buy a treat for his avian friend, but there was nothing in sight.
\Me and my friends live here,\ the crow squawked softly.
James frowned slightly, catching the plural word. "Friends...?"
He raised his gaze to the branches of the towering oak tree overhead.
Perched along the sturdy limbs were five or six other crows, their beadlike eyes all turned downward, silently staring straight at him.
\Friends! Big flock!\ the crow on his shoulder chirped in his mind, its mental voice sounding high-pitched and disjointed, like an eager toddler trying to show off.
James looked up toward a thick oak tree branch where the five other crows were perched.
Usually, you'd see birds like this huddled together along a power line, but guess today was a different kind of day for them.
\Human-wolf!\ one of the crows in the tree called out, its mental voice sounding like a six-year-old lisping through a song.
\Smell loud! Very loud!\
James sighed internally. He was actively trying to fix his scent problem, but it seemed like luck just wasn't on his side today.
\Shiny chain! Want shiny!\ another crow chimed in, hopping down to a lower, closer branch.
"No, you're not getting it," James said firmly, refusing to part with his necklace.
Granted, the thing was probably only three percent real silver, but hey—we ball.
He reached up to gently pat the crow on his shoulder again, but the bird suddenly went completely rigid under his fingertips.
Its tiny talons dug sharp and hard into the fabric of James's jacket, and its small head snapped instantly toward a shadowy alleyway further down the block.
Up in the tree, the other birds stopped hopping. A heavy, uneasy silence settled over the sidewalk, broken only by the dry rustle of autumn leaves scraping across the pavement.
\Bad shadow...\ the crow on his shoulder whispered in a frightened, childish voice, cowering slightly against the side of James's neck. \Bad shadow follow human-wolf.\
\Behind! Behind!\ the crows in the tree began to chant in sync, their mental voices overlapping in a frantic, uncoordinated choir.
\Scary woman! Sharp teeth! Walk slow, follow close!\
James's eyes narrowed instantly. He didn't spin around right away, forcing his hybrid body to stay completely relaxed so he wouldn't give away the fact that he'd noticed.
\Hide human-wolf! Shadow watch!\ the crow on his shoulder warned, giving his jacket collar a frantic, desperate little tug with its beak.
"I'll be fine," James muttered softly to the bird.
He wondered who on earth was tracking him. Maybe he could resolve this peacefully... maybe.
He certainly hoped so.
Straightening up and finally turning around, James's eyes landed on someone he did not expect to see at all.
Standing a short distance away was a girl who looked like she could have passed for nineteen.
Her frame was delicate, almost fragile, radiating a quiet elegance that made her appear practically weightless.
Her hair was a striking pale blond—a soft, golden shade that shimmered like sun-kissed silk—falling in loose, gentle waves past her shoulders to frame her flawless face.
Her eyes were a vibrant, striking emerald green—a total anomaly for someone belonging to a family famous for their crimson gazes.
They looked almost innocent on the surface, though something far darker seemed to lurk just beneath the beauty.
Her cheeks were soft and rounded, her nose small and delicate, and her lips brushed with a faint shade of pink, set against the signature porcelain-pale skin of the Verpoment bloodline.
Despite her delicate appearance, every single one of James's heightened senses was screaming that something was dangerously off.
"I'm so sorry to bother you," she said, her voice sounding sweet and melodic.
Her green eyes locked onto his with an enchanting, almost hypnotizing warmth, her innocent figure making it extraordinarily easy for anyone to let their guard down and trust her.
"But do you happen to know where the college campus is?"
A/N Sacrifice novel upload schedule to upload my other stories, and also got sick, so there that