11. Fucking Vampires

Fucking Vampires

Metaphorically, Of Course

A fter lunch, with a full belly and an extra spring in my step thanks to Kyla's unexpected hair disaster, I head to the library. I've got a free period, and I figure it's the perfect time to add my latest concoction to the grimoire—the potion that just turned Kyla's golden mane into a frizzy mess. I find a quiet spot, pull out my book, and get to work.

I write carefully, savoring the moment, listing out each ingredient like a fine recipe for disaster:

Ingredients:

1 strand of mermaid hair (unspoiled by magic, of course)

A splash of werewolf sweat (extracted during a full moon for maximum potency)

Essence of nettle (because we like to sting while we work)

2 drops of bat's blood (because why not lean into the cliché?)

1 hairbrush (preferably not stolen, but hey, desperate times)

Instructions:

First, simmer the bat's blood over a low flame. Stir counterclockwise because we're trying to undo beauty, not enhance it.

Add the werewolf sweat and essence of nettle, stirring gently until the mixture turns a deep purple. Think bruise, not lavender.

Pluck the strand of mermaid hair (carefully—those mermaids get testy) and toss it in, watching the potion bubble and hiss. This is the magic moment, the part that makes the change permanent. Once it's in, there's no going back.

Lastly, enchant the hairbrush and dip it into the potion. One stroke, and the victim's hair will start to change. Permanence guaranteed. As an alternative… Place the potion into a spray bottle and spray directly onto hair.

I sit back and smirk, satisfied with myself. I have to come up with a name—something fitting. I tap the pen against my lip for a moment before it hits me.

Bad Hair Hex.

Perfect.

Just as I finish writing, I hear a low voice, far too close to my ear. " Bad Hair Hex? Really, Zaria, that's the best you could come up with?"

I jump, snapping the book shut with a loud thwack and whipping around to find Sebastian standing way too close for comfort, a cocky grin on his face. "Jesus, Sebastian!" I snap, glaring at him. "Don't you have something better to do than sneak up on people like some kind of creepy stalker?"

"Stalker?" he raises an eyebrow. "I prefer persistent admirer. But if you want to talk about creepy…"

I cut him off with a glare. "If I wanted to hear you talk, I'd ask. Now, what do you want? And why are you even in the library? Last I checked, reading wasn't exactly your strong suit."

He smirks, leaning casually against the table. "It's a library, Z. I'm allowed to be here. Or do you need a reminder that students are allowed to read?"

"Please," I scoff. "You're not a student. You're a nuisance." He chuckles, undeterred, and we fall into our usual banter, slinging insults back and forth like we're playing a game of verbal dodgeball.

"Oh, you wound me," he says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "But if you're going to throw insults my way, at least aim for something below the belt. That's where I like it best."

I roll my eyes so hard I can practically see the back of my head. "You've got jokes now? What's next, an inappropriate comment about my boots?"

"Wasn't going to say anything about the boots." He leans forward, eyes twinkling. "But I did just notice something."

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "What?"

He studies me for a moment before saying, "You've got freckles. Didn't notice before."

I blink, caught completely off guard. "Freckles? Really? That's what you're noticing right now?"

"Yeah," he says, still watching me closely. "You shouldn't cover them up with makeup."

The comment throws me off. Of all the things he could have said—about my hair, my clothes, my general demeanor—he notices my freckles? And he's… complimenting me? I don't know whether to be flattered or suspicious, so I settle for confusion. "Okay… thanks? I guess?"

He leans back, still smirking. "I'm not always trying to annoy you, you know. Sometimes, I'm just helpful. Like with that little note I left you the other day."

I narrow my eyes, remembering the note he gave me—the one that led me to discover my spells were being passed around the school. "Okay, fine, that was helpful. But after hearing the principal talking about my spellbook being made into a tome for the whole school, it didn't exactly work out the way I hoped."

He tilts his head, his smirk fading just a little. "Wait… your spellbook? Made into a tome? What are you talking about?"

I wave a hand, brushing off the conversation. "Nothing. Don't you have a guinea pig or Kyla to go feed on or something?"

He composes himself, his grin returning with full force. "I could always nibble on you instead. I mean, if you're offering…"

I raise an eyebrow, leaning in just a little. "Ooo, sorry. Just had a whole garlic bread for lunch. Wouldn't want to send you to the emergency room with an allergic reaction."

He chuckles, stepping back with a mock bow. "Touche, Zaria. Touche."

I give him a sweet, sarcastic smile, flipping my grimoire shut and standing up. "Well, this has been fun, as always, but some of us have actual work to do."

He watches me for a beat longer, his eyes flickering with something I can't quite place before he shrugs. "Until next time, Z." I roll my eyes again as he turns and saunters off, leaving me standing there, feeling oddly… thrown off. Maybe it's the compliment. Maybe it's the way he always manages to get under my skin. Either way, I have more important things to focus on right now—like how Kyla's hair is faring after lunch.

As I'm walking back to my dorm, I pull out my phone and shoot a quick text to Sam.

Hey, want to grab dinner later? My treat.

Sam responds almost immediately.

Dinner, yes! Can we do Chinese? I'm craving dumplings. ??

Chinese it is. I'll meet you at CHONGQING at 7?

I cringe a little at the price. Chongqing isn't exactly budget-friendly, but hey, she's my best friend and after everything she's been through with Derek, she deserves a treat.

Perf! See you then!

As I slip my phone back into my pocket and keep heading toward my dorm, I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I stop and turn, and there's Derek, strolling over with that annoying, effortless confidence he always seems to carry. But my eyes immediately zero in on the tightly wound bandage around his wrist, and I freeze.

"Oh my god, Derek!" I gasp, grabbing his hand before I even think about it. "You weren't supposed to actually hurt yourself!" My fingers hover over the bandage like I can somehow magically heal him by touch.

He chuckles, looking down at our hands. "Z, as much as I'm enjoying you holding my hand, it healed hours ago."

I drop his hand like it's on fire, smacking him on the chest with my other hand. "You're unbelievable! Why are you still wearing the bandage, then?"

He grins, completely unfazed. "Well, I wasn't sure if you'd want to kiss it better."

I roll my eyes, fighting back a smile. "Yeah, not happening."

He shrugs, as if this whole situation amuses him far more than it should, and then his expression shifts slightly. "Anyway, I saw Kyla earlier."

My heart skips a beat, and I do my best to play it cool. "Oh? And how's she looking?"

Derek gives a little scoff. "Her hair? Let's just say... it's interesting. Frizzy grey perm chic is definitely a bold choice."

I try to smile, but a small pang of guilt sneaks in. "I think I went too far. It's semi-permanent. What if she can't fix it?"

Derek raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "You're worried about her? Really? You remember what she did to you two years ago, right?"

I blink, and the memory crashes back. It was right after summer break. I'd been excited to come back to school—nerdy little witch me, excited to show off some new spells I'd been working on. Kyla and her crew had other plans. They got into my locker, filled it with hexed slime that oozed out the second I opened the door. It ruined all my books, my clothes, everything. And to top it off, she made sure to hex the slime so it only stuck to me. I spent days scrubbing that stuff off while Kyla and her gang laughed. I could still hear their shrill cackles in my head if I thought hard enough.

"You're right," I say, nodding as the guilt starts to melt away. "She deserves what's coming. And I'm not done. Phase Two starts tomorrow."

Derek smirks, stepping closer. "The weekend's going to be interesting, isn't it?"

I meet his gaze, my resolve hardening. "Oh, you have no idea."