As Vincent pushed off to make his run home, he was stopped by a sight he wasn’t expecting but glad to see.

  “What are you doing here so late?”

  Alicia stood near the parking lot where the fancy car usually picked her up. She looked angry, which Vincent was beginning to realize was her typical look.

  A hot look.

  He was feeling frisky after his little chat with Alacard, invigorated at the idea of getting another go at the Transformation at Will. He felt like tomorrow would be his day, so he decided to flirt a little.

  “Me?” he said, shrugging. “I was looking for you.”

  “You…,” she said with a pause and reflection as if caught off guard. “Were looking for me?”

  She still had the same inquisitive tone, as if not sure what to do. An almost childlike innocence crossed her face for a millisecond, and a tiny tilt of her head. It was endearingly adorable. As quick as it came, it vanished

  “Why?” She snapped, a quick flash of a fang and fire in her eyes.

  A shiver shuddered up Vincent’s body. He thought about what to say, wondering what might get under her skin. He wanted to be playful, interact with her in a fun way, even if he really didn’t know how to go about that. Instead, let his instincts kick in.

  “I just wanted to know,” he said, letting it linger for just a moment, noticing the curiosity in her eyes. He smiled, knowing he had her. “Why you have such violent tendencies?”

  “What?” she said, stiffening and clenching her fists at her sides. “I am not violent. I simply eliminate obstacles that cause me harm, annoyance, or are in my way.” She narrowed those lovely red irises on him, and it was as if they were blazing with a glorious glow.

  He nodded, realizing she probably called the shots most of the time, or thought she did. She was probably the type to not get a lot of pushback to her attitude, perhaps easily getting annoyed when she did. So, he’d do some shoving of his own.

  He shrugged. “Then why are you always strutting around like some queen?”

  Her eyes flickered with fury, her cheeks flushing. “How dare you!”

  He smirked, ignoring her outburst. “I want to know what your deal is.” He pointed at her, causing her jaw to tense as if insulted. “Why do you insist on putting others down, striking with no regard or warning. Why do you act so superior? You’re a student just like the rest of us.”

  He rubbed at the top of his head, remembering how she had knocked him out with a swing of her sheathed sword the last time he had pushed her. Perhaps poking the vampire might be a mistake.

  “Because,” she said, pointing a finger back at him. “You are a dog, a filthy mutt. You belong in a kennel, not among us betters. And your stench.” She scrunched up her nose as if taking in his smell was sickening. “Is intolerable.”

  He shrugged, chuckling. “See, there you go again. Slinging insults, saying nasty words, acting like you are superior to the rest of us.” He let that linger, then continued with his point. “I understand that you’re intelligent, yet you can’t seem to answer a simple question. You still haven’t explained why you’re a stuck-up ice queen?”

  Alicia gripped the handle of her sword.

  Vincent gulped.

  The last time she had done that, he was taken out in a flash of movement. Still, he did his best to hold his ground and not back down, keeping his eyes upon her. He needed to put this chick in her place.

  Part of him thought about what it would be like to spank her like a naughty girl. He pushed that thought quickly out of mind, as that kind of thinking would certainly lead to retaliation in the form of getting knocked out or kicked out of school.

  “How dare you speak to me in that way, dog,” she said with a snarling hiss.

  “Someone has to,” Vincent said, standing his ground. He recalled a time when his father told him about speaking in front of others and how thinking about them in their underwear would help with that. Well, thinking about Alicia in her underwear was helping. Helping with his confidence, and other things. “As you seem to have little to no friends, you disregard your sister’s feelings, and I think it all stems from some sort of insecurity that you try to hide with belittling insults, intense anger, and an overall bitchy attitude. I think you’re just a little girl desperate for the attention you viciously push away. What? Did daddy not love you enough or something?”

  That last part he just threw in there, because why not?

  It apparently hit a nerve, as she flinched and stomped forward, gritting her teeth, her cheeks crimson. “How dare you. I will silence your filthy mouth right here and now.” She was about to make a move to attack when Vincent did something random.

  He leaned back, pushed his chest out, and boomed in a confident voice. “I challenge you.” He also whipped a finger forward, pointing it at her as he yelled.

  She blinked, looking dumbfounded. Was that a slight jaw drop? If it was, it disappeared in an instant. “What?”

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  His gambit had worked, even if it was a feint. He gulped, realizing he had stopped her in her tracks, taken her out of her element. She looked as surprised as he was.

  Success!

  “You heard me,” he belted with confidence. “After I master the Transformation at Will tomorrow, you and I are going to have a fight. And if I can strike your majesty,” – that felt good, like a little zing saying it that way, poking at her insecurities, which he knew he had because she flinched at the word – “then you’ll agree to a date with me.”

  She seethed and looked ready to leap into action, gripping the handle of her sword as if she had been insulted.

  While he retained his pose, trying to be cool, a soft wind blew. As she stared at him, incredulous, he felt himself deflate like a balloon losing air, an awkwardness filling the air.

  She appeared flustered, perhaps annoyed? She tilted her head up, nose in the air. “I do not have time for such deplorable things as dating.” She turned with a swift motion, her skirt whipping around and revealing a bit of her upper thigh, which gave Vincent a little zest of life.

  “Y-you won’t have to date me,” he said, doing his best to sound assured and confident, not desperate like he was feeling. “If you’re so great, as you claim to be, you’ll easily beat me.” And even though he felt like he was losing her, he knew well enough now that this would reel her in. He smirked, because this next move would seal the deal or lead to his demise. “Or is that cowardice I sense?”

  She turned slowly and surely, a shadow of a smirk on her face. “I am no coward, dog.” She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Fine. If you wish to fight, we shall fight. In one week, when the clock strikes ten in the eve, I expect you here with whatever you can muster.”

  She turned again, her skirt twirling.

  Vincent closed his eyes and inhaled the wonderful strawberry and coconut scent like pleasant perfume.

  He fist-pumped behind her back, feeling his first victory with the girl he was determined to make swoon for him.

  Until she added something.

  “Oh, and if I win,” she said, as a shadowy smirk crossed her face. “You will cease your fraternization with Isabella.”

  She didn’t debate the point, nor did Vincent contest it. His jaw dropped at the finality as he watched the fancy black car pull up. The driver stepped out and opened the door, nodding to Alicia before she swiftly sat in the car, showing a little flash of leg as she did. Something about the driver still made Vincent shiver, but it wasn’t anything to fret about right now.

  As the car door shut, Vincent rubbed his hand through his hair, groaning. “Ah man, now I definitely need to beat her. I’m such an idiot!”

  Why, though? If he could win – and he certainly liked his chances, especially knowing he’d have his Transformation at Will mastered by then – then it’d be no problem at all. Even if she was a vampire, or Dawn Vampire, or whatever. He was a werewolf, and they certainly were strong than vampires, right? After beating her, he’d be just dandy.

  Vincent watched a bus filled with students pull away, wondering about the possibilities.

  A date with Alicia. “I can’t believe I did that.” He stretched his arms out and looked up into the sky. “Guess it just means I gotta get stronger.”

  He clenched his fist, nodded to himself, and broke into a run down the street.

  .   .   .

  Vincent’s house, with its wood and earth tones, looked like a quaint cabin, with a few trees, nice landscaping and, some well-trimmed grass areas.

  Why was he looking at his house?

  It was a weird point of view, as if watching a moving screen. The camera glided up his sidewalk, through the front door, up the stairs of the main hallway, and down to his bedroom door. All the way up to the last dream, where the werewolf had stood in front of his doorway, a frightening sight. It let out a low growl, saliva dripping from its jaws as it pushed its snout against the door, then stopped. The door creaked as it opened into the darkness.

  The camera moved up close, behind the back of the werewolf, then stopped, floating and watching. The werewolf jerked and turned to the camera, growling as it leapt forward and attacked.

  Vincent sat up in a cold sweat, tossing the covers aside. He placed a hand over his damp forehead, his breaths labored.

  “Holy crap. That was weird.”

  Something had changed, and he knew in that moment he was in trouble, right? How much time did he have? He didn’t know, but he had to trust what Mr. B had told him, so he tried not to worry as he let out a shuddering breath.

  There was one upside, though. As he moved his jaw he smiled, noticing that his tooth had regrown, returned to the way it was. He even checked it in the mirror, and sure enough it was there, back to normal. In some weird way, his regrown tooth was a sign that things would be okay.

  .   .   .

  Vincent and Alacard slid back from one another. Vincent had apparently been struck backward, shaking it off and glaring at Alacard, ready to move on him again. Alacard sneered, leaning forward, ready to take him on as Mr. B watched from the sidelines with folded arms and a concentrated stare.

  “Not much fight in your today, eh?” Alacard said. “Or ever.”

  “Shut up,” Vincent snarled as he dashed forward, frustrated at his present state. His nerves tensed at the thought of the wolf catching him in his dream.

  He wondered how much time he had. Was it a lot, a little, or none at all? How could he know?

  Over the next days and weeks, Vincent and Alacard met in a flurry of fights. Exchanging punches and blocks, ducking and dodging, dancing around each other, and knocking each other down – mostly Alacard besting Vincent. Still, Vincent never gave up.

  He would push himself to his feet, slap his hands against his knees, and use all his strength just to stand. He’d level his eyes on Alacard and snarl, “Again.”

  He didn’t know how much time he had, but he stopped caring, even though his worries remained. Luckily, he hadn’t had a werewolf dream in a while, so he just let it ride at this point.

  Over and over. Punch after punch. Getting knocked backward, down, and out. Occasionally, Vincent would land a strike, a kick here and there or a scratch. Each one was met with unrelenting punishment.

  Still, he got up, stepped forward, and called out, “Again!”

  In between sparring, Mr. B had added some obstacle course training to mix things up, along with muscle and weight training. They also climbed ropes and tossed heavy tires. They also punched those faceless opponents they had sparred with in the past that were filled with a tough material that wasn’t sand. It felt like punching metal. The magical reverb made it worse. None of it was pleasant or fun. Still, Vincent persisted and pushed forward.

  One day they hit some extreme hiking trails, running or sprinting down sections of mountain, scrambling up inclined hills of rock and mud, and even doing some rock climbing to the extreme.

  Another day they had a sparring session with Mr. B that went horribly wrong. They were not only outmatched, out-skilled, out-powered, out everything-ed, but were terrible as a team, so he pummeled them.

  Finally, they went back to sparring each other. Sweaty, hot, and even a bit bloody. Harder, faster, stronger – again, mostly Vincent being destroyed.

  Still, he stood strong, stepped forward, and growled, “Again,” with fierce determination in his eyes and voice, because he knew where he was going and who he wanted to be. And nothing would stop him from getting there.

  .   .   .