Silas… and Rosemary… Did they really have that kind of relationship?
It's hard to believe. Not with the way Silas had looked at her back then—angry, cold, like she was some kind of plague he couldn't stand to be near. But Rosemary… she wore that smirk, so flirty and confident, as if she knew a secret I didn't. It made me uneasy. I couldn't imagine Silas with someone like her.
"You feel like giving up now?" she asked, her voice as smooth as silk, but her smile sharp enough to cut.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I don't think he'd even touch you with a ten-foot pole," I shot back without hesitation, turning away before her smugness could test my patience further.
"Hey!" she shouted, her cool demeanor cracking like thin ice.
I heard her footsteps closing in behind me, and when her hand gripped my arm, I was forced to turn back. Her nails dug into my skin—sharp, deliberate. It was like she wanted me to feel the pain.
"Did you seriously not hear what I just said?" she snarled, her tone venomous.
"Oh, I heard you," I said, meeting her glare with my own. "I just don't think Silas would like you. At all." My gaze flicked over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes. It wasn't subtle.
Her grip tightened, the pain in my arm intensifying. Ow. That actually hurts.
Her lips pulled into an annoyed sneer. "You've got some fucking nerve, you know that?"
I sighed, brushing off her hostility like dust. "And you're really starting to annoy me," I muttered, turning away again. She was so transparent—her words, her actions. She was just trying to get under my skin, and I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.
I hugged the pot in my hands closer to my chest. I wasn't about to waste time on her. "Do you mind? I actually have somewhere else to be," I said flatly, stepping away.
But just as I thought I was done with her, her voice cut through the air like a whip.
"I was talking to you, you fucker!"
Before I could react, she shoved me hard. The force sent me stumbling forward. My arms flailed as I tried to keep my balance, but it was useless. I went crashing to the ground, the pot shattering beneath me.
The impact knocked the wind out of me. My head spun, and I blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened. Soil was scattered everywhere, and in front of me lay the sunflower. Its roots were torn and exposed.
"Ah…" The sound escaped my lips, dumb and hollow. I sat up slowly, reaching for the flower with trembling hands.
The pot was destroyed. The flower was ruined.
Oh no…
I stared at it, my chest tightening. And then it hit me—why this flower had felt so important, why I'd wanted to protect it so badly.
It reminded me of Silas.
Behind me, Rosemary growled, her tone dripping with contempt. "It's just a stupid flower. You can get another one anywhere, you dumb buffoon. Fight me like a fucking vampire! I hate your kind of fuckers."
Her words barely registered. My focus was on the flower, its fragile stem cradled in my shaking hand. "You broke the flower," I murmured, almost in a daze.
"Who cares about the flower?" she snapped.
I glanced down at my arm. Blood was dripping from a shard of the broken pot embedded in my skin. It stung, sharp and hot, and yet… something about it felt strange.
I'm bleeding?
Vampires don't bleed. Not like this. I'd been hurt before, but this… this was different. The pain was real, searing. So I can still bleed…
Rosemary's voice broke into my thoughts, harsh and impatient. "What's wrong with you? It's just a flower!"
I stood slowly, my mind a haze of pain and sorrow. My arm throbbed, useless at my side, but that wasn't what mattered. The flower was dying, and there was nothing I could do to save it.
"Do you even realize what you've done?" My voice came out low, steady, but it didn't feel like mine. It was deeper, colder.
Rosemary froze, her expression shifting to something between surprise and unease. Of all the things she thought would make me angry, it wasn't this.
"Woah, seriously? You got mad over that piece of sh—"
She didn't even have time to finish her sentence before my hand was around her throat, squeezing just enough to stop her breath. My other hand reeled back, fingers curled tight into a fist, ready to strike.
"So does that mean I can hurt you too?" My voice was low, barely audible, but the venom in my words hung in the air like a storm cloud.
Rosemary froze. Her body stiffened as if instinctively understanding that moving even an inch could cost her. She had power, I knew that much—she could turn and rip me apart if she wanted to. But she didn't.
She couldn't.
My nails, sharp as daggers, dug into her soft skin. My red eyes pinned her in place.
I saw it in her face: fear. No, not just fear. Recognition.
It was just like those who had killed her family.
Just like her.
Her lips trembled, and for a fleeting moment, she almost looked shattered. But then—
"Enough."
A hand caught my wrist mid-swing, halting the punch that would've landed square on Rosemary's face.
I turned, my head snapping toward the voice.
"Shira?" I muttered, blinking in confusion as dizziness suddenly washed over me. My grip on Rosemary loosened, and she gasped, stumbling back.
She didn't retaliate.
She just stared—stared at me with wide, horrified eyes, her hand clutching her throat. "You're her," she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling.
And then she ran.
I swayed on my feet, my head spinning. My arm throbbed, though I couldn't quite place why.
"Unh…" I groaned, disoriented, leaning heavily on Shira as she caught my shoulder to steady me.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice calm but tinged with concern. Her grip was firm, grounding me as I struggled to stay upright.
"I… I don't know," I murmured, my voice weak. My gaze dropped to my arm, and it was only then that I noticed it—blood.
No. Not blood.
It wasn't red, like it should've been. Instead, it was black. Thick, dark, and inky, like liquid shadow dripping from an open wound.
"She… pushed me," I said, my voice shaky as I tried to piece it together. "She pushed me and broke the pot Navee gave me."
My eyes darted to the ground, where the shattered remains of the ceramic pot lay scattered. Among the debris was the sunflower, its bright yellow petals dull and dirt-speckled.
I crouched down, reaching for it instinctively, but Shira stopped me with a gentle touch on my shoulder.
"Don't," she said softly. Her hand brushed mine aside as she picked up the flower for me. "It's not dead. Its time is stopped. We can find another pot."
"Oh," I mumbled, feeling foolish. My head was still pounding, and everything around me seemed hazy and distant.
Had I… forgotten to drink blood again?
"Your wound isn't healing," Shira said suddenly, her voice sharp.
I looked at her, startled, but her expression was unreadable.
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was her face.
And then I passed out.
—
"Agh, that asshole," Silas snarls, pacing the room angrily. I lay on the bed, pale and weak, my body still recovering from the ordeal. Thick bandages were tightly wrapped around my arm, and I had just managed to choke down a small vial of blood—barely enough to sustain me. Apparently, vampires drinking blood here is a crime, so I had to make do with a few measly drops. It wasn't enough to heal me completely, but at least it sealed the deeper parts of the wound. Now, it was just an aching gash, but I could still feel the dull throbbing pain radiating from it.
I hated how weak I felt. I hated what I'd almost done.
God, I almost punched Rosemary, didn't I?
The memory stung like salt on an open wound. I was so angry, my body so consumed with pain, that I barely registered my own words or actions. It was like watching someone else's body move, my rage guiding me like a puppet on strings. If Shira hadn't stepped in when she did, I shudder to think about what might have happened. I'm no match for Rosemary. She's terrifying enough as a human—what more as a werewolf? She'd probably rip me to shreds and have me for dinner. Vampire steak, anyone?
"It's fine," I mutter weakly, trying to pull my thoughts away from the memory. But Silas doesn't seem convinced. He turns to me, his face dark with frustration.
"No, it's not fine," he snaps, his voice sharp with guilt. "This is your first day here, and you're already hurt!" His movements are quick and deliberate as he sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest gently on my shoulder.
I blink at him. Woah… since when did he get all touchy-feely? This is new.
"This is my fault," Silas mutters, his voice quieter now.
Wait, what?
The confusion must have shown on my face because Silas lets out a snort before quickly masking it, covering his mouth with his hand. "Rosemary's always been… complicated," he starts, his voice tinged with regret. "I should've warned you about her."
"Warned me? About what?" I ask, though I can already feel the answer forming in the back of my mind.
"Her family," Silas says, his tone heavy. "They were killed by vampires. Her first pack… they were all slaughtered. She was the only survivor." He pauses, as if the weight of the memory is too much even for him. "My mother found her after that, took her in."
The pieces fall into place in my mind, and I say the first thing that comes to me. "Ah… no wonder she hates me so much." My voice is flat, but inside I feel a strange mix of guilt and understanding. It makes sense now—why Rosemary was trying so hard to push my buttons, to get a reaction out of me. And, well… it worked. Too well.
I almost hit her. God, what would've happened if I had? The thought makes my stomach twist.
"It's not your fault," Silas says firmly, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. His hand moves up to ruffle my hair, and I let out a surprised noise.
"Hey!" I swat at his hand, but he just grins.
"Was it one of the purebloods?" I ask suddenly, my mind circling back to the attack. "I don't think a runt would've been able to take down a werewolf pack like that."
Silas's expression darkens, and he nods. "Yeah… I believe it was the Vampire of Gluttony."
I blink. "The Vampire of Gluttony?" I repeat, the name unfamiliar and strange on my tongue.
Silas sighs, leaning back slightly. "Ah, I guess I haven't explained this to you yet, huh? Do you remember me mentioning the seven purebloods, including Minerva (Vampire of ????)?"
I nod slowly. "Yeah, I remember."
"Well, they're also called The Vampire of the Seven Deadly Sins," Silas explains. "Each one embodies one of the seven human sins. You've heard of them, right? It's the same concept from Christianity."
I nod again, though my curiosity is piqued. "I didn't know that," I admit. "Why are they called that? Is it because they're some kind of offshoot of demons or something?"
Silas looks a little sheepish. "I guess I should've explained this sooner," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
I give him a flat look. "Yeah. You think?"
He laughs, lightly punching his own head in mock punishment. "Oops," he says with an exaggerated grin.
I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the small smile that tugs at my lips.
"Anyway," Silas continues, his tone becoming more serious, "each pureblood has their own demonic magic. Their abilities correspond to the sin they represent. Minerva (Vampire of Sloth), for example—the oldest of them all—is the Sin of Sloth."
"Sloth?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "Is that why I like to sleep so much?"
Silas pauses, his brow furrowing as he considers my question. "Huh… you know, that actually makes sense," he says thoughtfully.
I snicker, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."
But then my thoughts shift to something else. Something that's been nagging at me ever since my run-in with Rosemary. "If Rosemary's basically your half-sister," I start, "then why does she keep saying you two were more than friends?"
The question hangs in the air for a moment, and Silas's expression darkens. His fists clench at his sides, and I feel a cold sweat trickle down the back of my neck.
"That fucking weirdo," Silas growls through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous.
Okay, that's not ominous at all.
—
"I'm sorry this is all I could find for you to eat," Silas sighed, watching me drink from the juice box he'd handed to me.
"It's fine," I replied, but my gaze wandered to the table, catching sight of the sunflower now sitting in a new pot.
"Did Shira find a pot for my sunflower?" I asked, tilting my head toward it.
Silas followed my gaze, his expression softening for a moment. "Hm? Oh, no, that was me," he said casually, before turning back to me with a grin and playfully sticking out his tongue.
Oh.
I wasn't sure why, but something in my chest stirred at that.
"Seb? Seb!" Silas called out, snapping me from my thoughts. "You're letting the blood drip onto your shirt."
I blinked, realizing that I hadn't been drinking properly. The blood had leaked out the corner of my mouth and was now trailing down my chin.
"Pfft—" I choked, hurriedly wiping my face as Silas burst into laughter.
"It's nice to see this side of you, Sebastian. Turns out you can be such a klutz, too," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"I'm not a klutz," I mumbled defensively, though my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Silas only snorted in response. Then, his gaze flickered to my arm, and the humor in his expression softened into something more serious.
"I'm sorry again," he murmured, scooting closer to me.
"Huh?" I let out a confused noise as he motioned toward my arm. He gave me a questioning look, one that clearly asked, Can I touch your arm?
I nodded dumbly, feeling my heart thump louder in my chest.
Silas gently took my arm, his fingers trailing across the bandage. "I know it's not so bad anymore, and it's healing… but I couldn't stop worrying earlier. When I saw Shira carrying you out of the classroom…" He trailed off, his voice dipping with guilt.
I felt my face heat up again. "That… That was embarrassing," I muttered under my breath. "A guy like me, being carried by a woman like that…"
Silas chuckled softly. "Shira's someone you can trust with your life. She wouldn't hesitate to carry you, no matter the situation. Even if it cost her everything, she'd make sure you were safe. That's why I'm glad she was there for you."
"Yeah…" I admitted, managing a small smile. "She's kind of cool when she's not gut-punching me every five seconds on the mat."
That earned a genuine laugh from Silas, and for some reason, it made my chest feel lighter.
"Seems like vampires have caused a lot of trouble for everyone, huh?" I said after a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. Silas's hand was still resting on my arm, and his presence beside me felt… warm. Comforting, even. It was strange, but for the first time in a long while, I felt alive—really alive.
"Mm. But it's not your fault you were one," Silas said gently, shaking his head. "I just hope they don't blame you for the mess those purebloods left behind."
I glanced at him, catching the flicker of sadness in his eyes before he replaced it with a small, calming smile.
"Still, I can't believe Rosemary did all that," he continued, his tone dipping again. "I don't understand what got into her. She was always… strange. Ever since my mother helped her, she wouldn't leave my side. Back then, she was almost like a shadow."
He sighed heavily, his brows furrowing. "Then, one day, she just ran away. Without a word. Tsk." There was a bitter edge to his voice, one that made me wonder if his frustration with Rosemary was about more than just her disappearance.
I stayed quiet, sensing there was more he wasn't saying.
After a moment, Silas glanced at me again. "Shira mentioned you were still standing after you got hurt. She said you even looked like you were going to punch Rosemary. Is that true?"
I winced, letting out a small noise of discomfort. "I… I don't even remember doing that," I admitted, scratching my cheek.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. I did remember bits of it—flashes of pain, instincts taking over—but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"I was in so much pain, though," I added. "I think I just… I don't know, acted on instinct. Honestly, I thought I was done for. Maybe she would've eaten me."
Silas laughed at that, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I doubt that. You'd barely be enough to satisfy a werewolf."
"Thanks," I replied dryly, rolling my eyes.