scarecrow in an abandoned field, and accepted the chill as it penetrated his skin, the white flakes as they fell freely all around him, and he listened to the quiet.
Until it was interrupted.
He stared into the night, through it, using his preternatural vision like a beam of light to illuminate the dark. With no movement of his head, his eyes darted left, then right. Nothing. Although he was certain the sound came from the direction he was facing, he quickly turned around and scoured the area behind him. Still he could see nothing, alive or dead, nearby.
And yet he heard the sound again, this time even closer.
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Phaedra, I need you! Michael didnât speak the words but shouted them inside his mind. He had never called out to Phaedra before, never asked for her help because he never had to, whenever he was in danger, she appeared. But now, just like the other day in the swimming pool, she was nowhere to be found. Why was she abandoning him? He had no idea if she could hear him, but he called out to her again, and still no response. Didnât she just tell him she would continue to protect him? Was she somewhere with Fritz right now, preoccupied, concerned with her own pleasure and not his safety? Michael didnât want to prevent Phaedra and Fritz from starting a relationship, but seriously, wasnât this the reason efemeras existed in the first place, Michael thought, to respond to the silent pleas of those in need? Then again, perhaps there was no danger; perhaps he was just overreacting. When he heard the growl, he knew his first impression was correct.
Involuntarily, he felt his fangs descend and his eyes narrow. He watched his fingers elongate and the space in between them turn into webbing; he felt the leather of his sneakers stretch and he knew the same change was happening to his feet. The beating of his heart quickened as his body prepared for battle even while his mind prayed a fight would never come. He hated feeling this way, apprehensive, no, that wasnât being completely honest, he was afraid. Still afraid like the boy he used to be. Whatâs the use of being immortal if Iâm afraid to defend myself? If Iâm afraid of being defeated? If Iâm just the way I always was?
His fear was short-lived, however, and replaced by the will to survive when he was struck from behind.
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Breathing deeply, David recognized the scent, it was one of his own. Pungent and thick, it quashed the more appealing aroma of the snow-filled air and, for a moment, David was greatly annoyed. He hated wanton intrusion. But one of his children was restless or possibly in trouble and like every good father, he had a duty to come to the aid of his child, to offer comfort and, of course, punishment if that was deemed necessary.
When he got to a clearing and saw what was happening, saw that Michael was being attacked from behind, he knew there would be no need for punishment or reward, but merely intervention.
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Michael felt his fangs cut into his lower lip as his face crashed into the snow, small droplets of red tarnishing the otherwise white landscape. What was happening? Who was on top of him? Of course, it had to be Nakano! He knew that he wasnât going to allow Michael to get away with embarrassing him in front of his classmates, forcing him to quit the swim team. He wanted revenge, and Michael stupidly gave him the perfect opportunity by wandering outside alone.
He felt Nakanoâs hand grab the back of his head and he knew that if he didnât escape, if he didnât get out of this position, his head was going to be bashed into the ground until his skull shattered. The anger he felt breathing down his neck was that potent. Michael had no choice, so he allowed his instinct to take over. Instead of fighting against the fear, he let it fill him, he let it consume his mind and his heart so he could take action. Reaching back, his hand over his head, he grabbed ahold of Nakano and pulled