Chapter 3: A Friend

It’s been 8 years since then…

I had just finished tying my boots, Nora bouncing impatiently beside me, when my mother’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Markus, wait.” Cassandra’s tone was soft but firm, the kind she used when she wasn’t about to let something slide. I sighed, glancing at Nora, who pouted dramatically.

“Come on, Mom, we’re just going out to play,” I protested, standing up straight.

Cassandra approached me, a small, plain looking brooch in her hand. It gleamed faintly, with a metallic sheen and an indicator for how long it’ll work.

“You can’t forget this,” she said, fastening it carefully to the inside of my shirt near my chest.

I frowned, feeling the slight chill of the brooch against my skin. “It’s not like anything’s going to happen out there. It’s just the field behind the house.”

She straightened my shirt, her hands lingering for a moment as she gave me a pointed look. “Markus, we’ve talked about this. You’re starting to release your pheromones now.”

That made me wince. “Mom…”

“You’re a growing boy,” she continued, ignoring my discomfort. “And as a half-incubus, your scent can cause trouble if it isn’t suppressed. You’re lucky I had brought this beforehand. Do you know how rare these are?”

I sighed, my face heating up. “You don’t have to remind me every time.”

She wasn’t done, of course. Cassandra was nothing if not thorough when it came to this topic. “Males are rare in this world, Markus. You know that. And with your heritage-”

“I get it,” I cut in, though my tone lacked bite. “Be careful. Watch out for trouble. Don’t let anyone get too close.”

Cassandra’s antennae twitched slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. “It’s for your own safety,” she murmured. “And for theirs.”

Nora tugged at my sleeve, her wings fluttering impatiently. “Mom, stop hogging Markus! We’re just playing!”

Cassandra gave her a gentle smile, brushing her daughter’s cheek. “I know, sweetheart. But your brother has to be careful, even when it’s just the two of you.”

I watched her fuss with the brooch, her hands lingering a little longer than necessary. Her antennae twitched, a nervous habit I’d learned to recognize over the years.

She kept saying it like a mantra, “half-vampire, half-incubus.” She always said it with confidence, almost like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was me.

But I knew the truth.

I wasn’t either of those things. I’d known ever since I overheard the whispers when my medical records came back. The way my father hesitated, stammering as he read the papers to my mother, was burned into my memory.

“Healthy,” the father had said awkwardly. “Completely healthy... Just… unusual.”

At the time, I didn’t understand why it mattered so much. But the way my parents froze, the way my father’s usually relaxed expression hardened, told me it wasn’t something I could ignore.

And then there was my mother who’d returned from the tests, clutching those papers like they were about to fly away, her wings trembling. She wouldn’t let anyone else see them after that, not even me.

Now, standing here, with her adjusting the inhibitor on my chest like it was some sort of shield, I couldn’t stop the thought from surfacing.

I’m not like them. No matter what she says, no matter how much she tries to hide it, I know.

“Markus,” her voice cut through my thoughts, soft but firm. “I need you to remember what to say if anyone asks. You’re a half-vampire, half-incubus. Nothing else. Do you understand?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I studied her face, the way her pale eyes avoided mine just slightly. The weight of the silence between us felt heavier than ever.

Finally, I nodded. “Yeah, Mom. I got it.”

But in my mind, it didn’t matter how many times she said it. I knew what I was.

I didn’t really understand what the inhibitor did exactly. My mom always said it was for my own good, and that was enough, at least for now.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was hiding. What about me needed suppressing so badly?

Nora tugged at my sleeve, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Come on, Markus! You promised to play!”

“Alright, alright,” I said with a chuckle, letting her drag me outside. The field behind our house was still damp from the morning dew, the air carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.

Nora immediately darted toward the old tree swing, her wings fluttering with excitement.

“Push me!” she demanded, hopping onto the swing and kicking her legs in anticipation.

I rolled my eyes but obliged, giving her a gentle push. The creak of the rope mingled with her laughter as she swung higher and higher, her moth-like wings catching the sunlight.

“Higher, Markus!” she called, grinning ear to ear.

“You’re going to fall off if I push any harder,” I warned, though I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

After a while, she hopped off mid-swing with an acrobatic leap that I could never hope to match. Landing lightly on her feet, she turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Tag! You’re it!” she shouted, tapping my arm before darting away.

I sighed but gave chase, my feet pounding against the grass as I tried to keep up. Nora’s laughter rang out, bright and carefree, as she darted between trees with an agility that put me to shame.

“Slow down, Nora!” I called, panting. “Give me a chance!”

“Never!” she teased, sticking out her tongue as she dodged another of my attempts to grab her.

Finally, I managed to corner her near the fence. She squealed as I lunged, grabbing her arm. “Gotcha!”

But before I could even catch my breath, she twisted effortlessly, flipping me off balance.

“Whoa, hey!” I yelped as she pinned me to the ground, her small hands gripping my shoulders with surprising strength.

“Gotcha back!” she declared triumphantly, her antennae twitching in delight.

I struggled, but it was no use. Her grip was like iron, her strength far beyond anything I could match. “Alright, alright, you win!” I said, laughing despite myself.

“Say ‘Nora is the strongest,’” she demanded, grinning as she leaned closer.

I groaned. “Fine. Nora is the strongest.”

“And the best!”

“And the best,” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

Satisfied, she finally let me up, though not before wrapping me in a bear hug that crushed the air from my lungs.

“You’re mine now!” she declared, rubbing her cheek against mine in a gesture that was more affectionate than I was prepared for.

“Okay, okay,” I said, patting her back awkwardly. “You’ll get snot on me again.”

She giggled, unbothered, and instead of letting go, tightened her grip around me like a vice. “Nope! You’re not going anywhere!”

“Nora,” I said, trying to squirm free. “We can’t play like this. Come on, let go.”

“This is playing!” she chirped, nuzzling her cheek against mine. Her antennae tickled my forehead, and her wings fluttered lightly, sending a faint breeze across my face.

“It’s not playing if I can’t move,” I groaned, tugging at her arms, but it was like trying to wrestle a stone pillar. “You’re going to crush me at this rate!”

She just giggled again, completely ignoring my protests. “No way! You’re comfy!”

“Comfy? I’m not a cushion, Nora!” I said, exasperated, though I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up despite myself.

“You’re my brother, and that’s even better than a cushion,” she insisted, her grip loosening just enough for me to catch a breath, though she still refused to let me go.

I sighed in defeat, resting my head against the grass. “Fine. But don’t blame me when we don’t have time to play because you’re too busy being a koala.”

She tilted her head, her antennae twitching as she gave me a sly grin. “What’s a koala?”

“It’s like you,” I muttered. “Clingy and impossible to shake off.”

Nora burst into laughter, her wings fluttering with delight. “Then I am a koala!” she declared proudly, snuggling closer.

I groaned, but a small smile tugged at my lips. Despite my discomfort, I couldn’t bring myself to push her away. Moments like these were exhausting, sure, but they were also… kind of nice.

Still, as I lay there under her monstrous strength, I was reminded once again of just how different we were.

Something caught my eye as I lay under the oppression of my sister. A flicker of movement just beyond the garden’s edge.

My movements slowed, and I turned my head, my gaze locking onto someone half-hidden behind a gnarled tree trunk.

A girl, not much older than me, stood there, her dark hair draping over her shoulders like a shadow. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her wide, violet eyes shimmered with a strange intensity.

She was watching us, no, watching me, with an unsettling stillness, as if she hoped I wouldn’t notice her.

But I did.

Our eyes met, and she flinched, half-turning as if to flee. But something in her hesitation stopped her, and she stood frozen, clutching the bark of the tree with delicate, clawed fingers.

It wasn’t until I looked closer that I noticed the details. Segments along her arms, faintly glinting like polished chitin, and her legs, faintly inhuman, tapering into an eerie elegance.

The faint impression of centipede-like features made my skin crawl, though I couldn’t quite place why.

I blinked, unsure if I was imagining her.

“What is it, Markus?” Nora’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to her. Her antennae twitched, her brown-striped wings fluttering in agitation. She had noticed my lingering stare and followed it to the girl by the tree. Her expression immediately darkened.

“That girl,” she said, her voice low, “she’s weird.”

I frowned. “Nora, don’t be rude.”

She grabbed my hand, holding it possessively. “We don’t know her. What if she’s dangerous?”

I sighed, crouching slightly to meet her glare head-on. “She’s just a kid like us,” I said. “You need to be nicer.”

She huffed, her cheeks puffing out as her grip on my hand tightened.

Ignoring her protests, along with my mother’s earlier warnings that I had long forgotten, I turned back to the girl by the tree. At that age, I didn’t think too much about those words.

I was young, innocent, and saw no reason to keep my distance from someone who looked as lonely as she did.

“Hey!” I called, raising a hand in a friendly wave. “Do you want to come play with us?”

She hesitated, her violet eyes flicking to Nora, whose glare could have melted stone. Slowly, the girl stepped out from behind the tree. Up close, her features were even more striking and unsettling.

Her limbs moved with an unnerving fluidity, her segmented arms flexing slightly, displaying how nervous she was.

“I’m Markus,” I said with a smile, holding out my hand.

She stared at it for a long moment before finally reaching out, her clawed fingers brushing against mine. “Yuki,” she whispered, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

“Nice to meet you, Yuki,” I said warmly. “This is my sister, Nora.”

Nora crossed her arms, her wings fluttering irritably. “Hi,” she muttered, her tone flat.

Yuki flinched, pulling her hand back and looking down at the ground.

“Don’t mind her,” I said quickly, shooting Nora a pointed look. “She’s just a little shy around new people.”

“I’m not shy!” Nora snapped, her antennae twitching with indignation.

“Then be nice,” I shot back.

Nora scowled but said nothing, though her wings flickered with visible annoyance.

“Come on, Yuki,” I said, gesturing toward the yard. “We’re just playing tag. You can join us if you want.”

Yuki hesitated, glancing nervously at Nora, who was still glaring daggers, before nodding. She took a step forward, her movements graceful but stiff, as if she wasn’t sure how to carry herself.

Her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, the sharp tips of her claws glinting faintly in the sunlight.

“Come on,” I said with an encouraging smile, holding out my hand. “You’ll see, it’s fun.”

She paused, staring at my hand for what felt like an eternity before finally, slowly placing hers in mine.

Her segmented fingers were cool to the touch, and the delicate chitin made me wonder if they were as fragile as they looked.

“Let’s start with something easy,” I said, releasing her hand and stepping back. “We’re playing tag, and you’re it!” I gently tapped her shoulder, then darted away with a laugh.

Yuki blinked, frozen in place as if she couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“You have to chase us now!” I called over my shoulder.

At first, she didn’t move, her violet eyes darting nervously to Nora, who stood with her arms crossed, looking anything but inviting. I stopped and jogged back toward her.

“It’s okay,” I said softly, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “You just need to run after us and tag one of us. It’s easy, I’ll even go slow.”

Finally, she nodded, though the motion was small and hesitant. She took one step forward, then another, her movements stiff and uncertain.

“That’s it!” I encouraged, backing away to give her space. “You’re getting it.”

She started to pick up speed, her segmented legs carrying her forward with surprising smoothness. A small smile tugged at her lips as she made her way toward me, her hesitation melting away with each step.

I let her catch up to me, pretending to stumble as she tapped my arm with her clawed fingers. “Gotcha,” she said, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

“That’s the spirit!” I said, laughing as I turned to chase her.

At first, she squeaked and ran awkwardly, her motions still stiff and jerky, but as we played, something shifted. She started to move with more confidence, her legs carrying her faster than I’d expected.

“Wait Yuki, you’re too quick!” I called, genuinely surprised as my body grew weary chasing after her.

Her smile grew a fraction wider, blushing, as she ducked her head shyly, though the hint of pride in her expression didn’t escape me.

Nora, who had been standing off to the side with her arms crossed, let out an exaggerated huff. “She’s not that fast,” she muttered under her breath, though I could tell she was more annoyed by how much fun I seemed to be having.

“Come on, Nora!” I said, turning to her. “Join in!”

She rolled her eyes but begrudgingly stepped forward, her wings fluttering irritably. Yuki froze again as Nora approached, her confidence shrinking like a flower wilting under a harsh sun.

“Relax,” I said to both of them. “It’s just a game.”

With some coaxing, we started running around together. Yuki’s initial timidness started with cautious laughter, then to genuine giggles as we chased each other around the yard.

She tripped once, landing awkwardly on her hands and knees, but when I helped her up, she was quick to smile and keep going.

As the minutes passed, her shyness seemed to evaporate, replaced by a quiet joy that radiated from her in little bursts.

She even started tagging Nora, much to my sister’s annoyance, and laughed when Nora muttered something under her breath about “getting even.”

“See?” I said to Yuki as we paused to catch our breath. “Told you it’d be fun.”

She nodded, her violet eyes brighter than before. “It is,” she admitted softly. “Thank you.”

Nora scowled from where she stood a few feet away, her wings twitching with visible annoyance. “You’re spending too much time talking to her,” she grumbled, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I shot her a warning glance but said nothing, turning back to Yuki instead. “Ready for another round?”

She nodded, her smile widening ever so slightly.

But Nora’s mood only darkened with each passing minute. She watched from the sidelines, her arms crossed and her glare fixed firmly on Yuki.

Every time I laughed or spoke to the new girl, Nora’s wings twitched, her anger practically radiating off her in waves.

Nora had had enough. She stomped over, grabbing my arm and yanking me back. “You’re supposed to play with me,” she said, her voice sharp.

I sighed, prying her fingers off my sleeve. “We’re all playing together, Nora. Stop being so selfish.”

“I’m not selfish! Mom told you not to play with strangers,” she snapped, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her.

Yuki shrank back, her eyes darting between us. “Maybe I should go,” she said softly, her antennae drooping.

“No, you don’t have to leave,” I said quickly, shooting another annoyed look at Nora. “You’re welcome here, Yuki.”

Nora’s glare deepened, but she said nothing, her wings fluttering in agitation as she stomped off to the other side of the yard.

I sighed, turning back to Yuki with an apologetic smile. “She’ll warm up to you eventually,” I said. “Don’t let her scare you off.”

Yuki offered a small smile, her violet eyes softening. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the yard in hues of gold and orange, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something significant.

Looking back…

I wish I had just listened.