Page 8 of Beasts

“It’s not that,” he finally speaks, his voice calm but carrying an edge of intrigue. “After what you saw yesterday, I’m surprised you’re even out of your room. Everyone here is... different. And yet here you are, offering to help cook for them. Why?”

“You’ve all been nice to me. Why wouldn’t I?” I reply, meeting his smirk with a smile of my own.

He sets a chopping board and some uncut vegetables in front of me. “You can start with this lot then.”

As I wash my hands, I ponder Oliver’s mysterious nature. The others hadn’t revealed much about him, leaving me to speculate. He might be something as unnerving as a werewolf, though Nolan, despite his transformation, hadn’t seemed terrifying in his human form. Returning to the vegetables, I consider trying to engage Oliver in conversation. He appears reserved, almost aloof, yet there’s an underlying sense of depth in his quiet demeanor. I wonder what stories he might have and what secrets he holds within the walls of this unusual fraternity house.

As I cautiously slice the vegetables, I try to strike up a conversation with Oliver, hoping to ease the tension in the air. “So, what classes do you take?”

Oliver pauses in his cooking, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “My primary focus is on science. Specifically, biology.”

“That’s really cool. I’m more into math, but I enjoy a lot of other extracurricular activities too,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light.

He chuckles sharply, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “Is that so?”

I immediately realize how my words could be misinterpreted. “Oh my God, I did not mean that!” I exclaim, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment. Oliver’s laughter fills the kitchen, and I join in, momentarily distracted. That’s when I feel a sharp pain in my finger. “Ouch!” I’ve nicked myself with the knife. It’s a shallow cut but stings sharply. Before I can react further, Oliver is by my side, wrapping my hand in a tea towel with surprising gentleness. “It’s not that bad. I don’t think I’ll need a band-aid,” I assure him, trying to downplay the injury.

His response is curt, his voice losing its earlier warmth. “And I think you need to go back upstairs.” As he speaks, I notice the brown in his eyes has vanished, leaving them a deep, intense green.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice laced with concern, both for him and myself. His intense green eyes trigger a memory, something from my past that I’ve struggled to forget. His gaze is piercing, almost accusing, and it sends a chill down my spine.

“No,” he almost growls, his demeanor suddenly shifting. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be in this house, and you definitely shouldn’t be in this kitchen. Just stay away from me.” His words are laced with an unexpected hostility that leaves me reeling.

At that moment, Kane’s voice interrupts us. “Hey, are you two alright?” he asks, eyeing Oliver’s hand around mine with a look of concern. “Watcha thinking about, Ollie?”

“Bumblebees can fly higher than Mount Everest. Also, I thought she cut her hand,” Oliver says abruptly, his tone switching from hostile to strangely factual.

Kane looks perplexed, clearly trying to make sense of Oliver’s odd statement. As for me, I’m left standing there, bewildered by the sudden change in Oliver’s behavior and his cryptic comment about bumblebees. I gently pull my hand free, the towel falling away to reveal no trace of blood. Oliver’s abrupt shift from concern to hostility, coupled with his peculiar fixation on bumblebees, only adds to the enigma that surrounds him.

The tension in the kitchen is palpable as Kane comments on my presence. “I guessed that much. I’m actually more surprised she’s down here with you,” he says, his gaze flicking between Oliver and me.

Confused, I tilt my head, prompting him to explain further. “Well, I thought you said you were afraid of vampires.”

That revelation hits me like a ton of bricks. Any semblance of composure I might have had evaporates. My gaze shifts to Oliver, whose eyes are gradually returning to their normal brown hue.

“I think she still is. Her blood just ran cold,” Oliver remarks dryly.

Kane looks genuinely apologetic. “Oh sorry, dude, I thought she knew.”

“Nolan told me to keep it to myself,” Oliver states, his voice carrying a note of frustration. I feel frozen in place, my mind racing. The realization that vampires are real, and that one is standing right in front of me, is overwhelming. Memories flood back of a time when I believed in their existence, only to be dismissed as crazy. And now, the truth is staring me in the face. As Oliver leans over to pick up the cutting board and knife, I’m silently grateful he doesn’t touch me. I’m not sure I could handle any physical contact in this moment. “You should forget what he just said to you, and you should forget what I am,“ Oliver says, a hint of command in his voice.

But something within me resists, snapping me out of my daze. “How am I supposed to just forget something like that?“ I ask, a mix of incredulity and defiance in my tone. He pulls back further away from me with a little shock plastered on his face.

Kane, finishing his water, adds with a snicker, “Did Nolan also tell you that none of our abilities seem to have any effect on her?”

I seize the opportunity to escape the overwhelming situation, rushing upstairs as Kane leaves the kitchen. My mind whirls with the confirmation of a reality I had long suspected but never had validated. Vampires are real, and I’m living under the same roof as one.

Back in the safety of my room, I try to process everything. The fact that vampires exist, that I was right all along despite being labeled insane, is both vindicating and terrifying. Oliver’s presence in the house suddenly casts a shadow over my previous sense of safety. As I sit on my bed, the weight of this newfound truth sinks in, leaving me to ponder what other secrets might be lurking within these walls.

Chapter six

Nerves

The restless night leaves me with a mix of fatigue and determination. I need to talk to Nolan, to confront him about the vampire revelation, and perhaps, to express my frustration for being left in the dark. With a sense of purpose, I navigate through the house, making a few wrong turns before finally locating his room.

Knocking softly, I wait until I hear Nolan’s voice inviting me in. Stepping into his room, I’m immediately struck by its scholarly ambiance. One entire wall is lined with shelves brimming with academic books, a veritable trove of knowledge that probably rivals the school library.

Nolan, standing from his desk, greets me with concern. “Are you okay, Amelia?” he asks, his expression earnest.

---