A torrent of rain crashed against the Nocturnal District without a drop ever touching its streets.
Originally meant to house the vampires of Dragon’s Rest, the entire district was contained in a humongous dome of dark tinted glass that shielded residents from the sun and kept them conveniently isolated from the rest of the city.
Over the ages it has come to house even more of the city’s undesirables. Werebeasts, succubi, drows, and the odd human with nowhere else to go lived in uneasy peace within a bubble of darkness hidden deep inside the world’s most prosperous merchant city.
The only part of it anyone from the outside cared about was Reveller’s Row, the city’s de facto red light district where neon signs lit up the eternal night for any potential patrons without night vision.
Valen sat in the passenger seat of his best friend’s car watching it all pass by.
Visitors swarmed the sidewalks, eager to embrace their debauchery knowing that whatever they did there would stay there.
Some took to underground nightclubs booming with dance music loud enough to shake the gravel outside. Many more were drawn away by succubi who loitered around wagging their pointed tails in outfits that would get them arrested for public indecency anywhere else.
Several of the succubi had red ribbons around their wrists, a subtle indicator that they’d let a vampire drink from them too for the right price. Though Valen was never one of them, many other vampires in the Nocturnal District liked to take them up on their offer. He couldn’t blame them for it. Proper blood substitutes were far more expensive and rat’s blood could only satiate the thirst for so long, a fact he learned from firsthand experience.
A wave of nostalgia washed over Valen.
He’d been an oddity outside the Nocturnal District. A vampire who clawed his way out of squalor into a ‘normal’ life. The exception that proves the rule.
Here he was just another bloke going about his night. Or at least he would be if not for the 500 grand luxury car he sat in.
Enid, the owner of said car, sat beside him in the driver’s seat. A veil of deep scarlet hair covered one of her icy blue eyes as she drove ahead undistracted or simply uninterested in their seedy surroundings looking for a place to park.
“Thanks again for driving me here Enid,” said Valen. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s fine,” she said in her usual soft and low voice that he could never decide sounded sultry or just plain tired. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
She was right, though Valen would never say that to her face. He knew from six odd years of living with her that she spent most days playing video games, napping, and eating whatever he cooked for her.
He couldn’t complain though. It was her house they were living in and she still made money from the alchemical patents she owned. Being heiress to one of the largest corporations in Dragon’s Rest certainly didn’t hurt either.
“Well, now that you’re here, I can show you around the Nocturnal District if you’d like,” Valen offered, though he doubted she’d be interested in anything he could show her.
“You know I’m not much of a party girl,” said Enid. “Let’s just check out this cult so we can go home and stream something.”
“Religious movement,” Valen corrected. “We can’t be sure if they’re a cult just yet.”
“Sure.” Enid sounded unconvinced. “I still don’t understand why you’d want to include them in your dissertation though.”
“My dissertation is on the psychology of people who still pray to the gods despite them abandoning us,” Valen reminded her. “Religion has been on the decline since the age of gods ended. Even ancient paladin orders are having a hard time now that most people have accepted the gods aren’t ever coming back. For an entirely new religion to pop up and gain just as many followers is a miracle unto itself. This could be a historical moment in the making and I might regret not studying it’s happening a few centuries from now.”
The existence of the gods and how their Divine Parents created the world was an objective fact, as was their departure from it.
At the beginning of time, the Divine Parents of the Gods descended from the heavenly realms onto the mortal plane with plans of raising a family there only for their hopes to shatter when the Divine Mother miscarried her first child.
The primordial blood of that unborn god flowed into the oceans to become the primordial soup from which all life spawned.
By the time sapient humans had evolved, the Divine Parents had already birthed the fourteen gods who, upon seeing the life born from their unborn sibling, took it upon themselves to guide or some say rule over them.
Over time the fourteen gods moulded many humans and their descendants into the various races that still walk the planet long after they left.
“Are you religious, Valen?” asked Enid. “I know your sister is but you never struck me as the pious type.”
“No. My interest in the subject is purely academic,” Valen admitted. “I’ve seen things that make it hard for me to pray and mean it, but I have a healthy respect for truly faithful people like my sister. Which is why I want to try to understand them through my research.”
“What’s this new religion’s name again?”
“They call themselves the Primordial Church. Apparently they worship the Unborn God.”
Enid furrowed her brow in confusion. “How do you even pray to something like that?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
Valen looked out the window at the bustling nightlife Reveller’s Row was known for. The patrons, outsiders who had no need to concern themselves with the unpleasant realities of the Nocturnal District, all had drunken smiles plastered about their faces as they indulged in vice after vice.
The people feeding those vices had smiles as well, though theirs were as fake as the solace their services offered. Beneath them lay only resentment directed at the patrons they couldn’t live without and even more so towards themselves for having no choice but to entertain them.
Most of them coped through drugs or drinking or working hard so they could escape it. Before the Primordial Church came around, those who coped through religion were few and far inbetween, but also the most exceptional for better or worse.
Valen was snapped from his thoughts when he felt the liquid contents of his stomach lurch as Enid slammed on the brakes to avoid a gaggle of drunks who’d leapt onto the streets.
Enid groaned through gritted teeth.
“Any church must have quite a sense of humour setting up shop around here,” she said. “Are you sure they don’t worship Maroe?”
Maroe was the Goddess of Love and Pleasure as well as the creator god of the succubi. And if her worshippers were to be believed, she was also the inventor of alcohol and the culinary arts as a whole thanks to her aspect as the Goddess of Pleasure.
“Oh, they’re not on Reveller’s Row,” said Valen.“It’s on the next street but you’re going to have to park around here though so we can get to it on foot. Coincidentally, it’s the street where I grew up so I know my way around it pretty well.”
“Can’t I just drive us there and park nearby?”
“Not if you don’t want your car to be jacked.” Valen patted the armrest of his seat. “Parking this beauty there is like dropping a sugar cube in an ant hill. If the whole thing isn’t jacked then it’ll be dismantled by the time you return to it. Better if you park here in Reveller’s Row. Gangs avoid causing trouble here because it’s bad for business.”
“Right.”
Valen studied Enid for any sign of hesitance.
She was beyond beautiful. So much so that it looped all the way back around to being uncanny.
Her flawless porcelain face looked like it’d been delicately crafted to abnormal perfection marred only by her nigh-permanent frown that made it nearly impossible to read.
“Hey, Enid, you can just drop me off here if you want,” Valen told her. “We’ll be going through some pretty sketchy territory so it’s understandable if you want to turn back. I can catch a cab to the nearest metro and walk home later.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Besides, you know I can take care of myself if anything happens.”
“True,” said Valen. “Hell, you might end up protecting me.”
“You can count on it.” Enid slowed down the car upon seeing an open spot on the side of the road in front of an old flat where most residents couldn’t afford a car anyways. “This seems like a good spot to park. How much further from the church are we?”
Valen double checked the address on a red and white leaflet that’d been handed to him by one of the church’s recruiters on his university campus.
“It’s about fifteen minutes away on foot.” Valen unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the car door. “There should be an alley leading to the street it’s on nearby.”
As Valen waited for Enid to get out of her car, his eyes were drawn to a familiar-looking motorcycle parked at a pub across the street.
It looked like a yellow sportbike with an extra seat cushion around the back to accommodate a second rider. He craned his neck to glimpse at the licence plate when the sound of Enid’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts.
“Do you like motorcycles?” she asked.
“Not particularly. I just used to ride as a passenger on one a lot.” He tore his gaze away from the motorcycle. No point dwelling on the past now. “Come on, we should get going.”
“Right.” She walked up to him and offered him her hand. “Lead the way then.”
Valen took her hand in his. He felt the warmth of her soft slender hands seep through the thin leather gloves he used to hide his claws.
Valen led Enid into an old alleyway, guiding her through the darkness with his night vision. The soft glow of neon lights faded away as they descended into the real Nocturnal District lurking under the shallow facade of glamorous nightlife behind them.
The two emerged on the other side of the alley to the centuries old cobblestone of Sharpe Street, the part of the Nocturnal District no tourist ever wanted to find themselves in. Those who did sometimes never left.
All around them were cheap flats and rundown houses where generations had lived tucked away from the world. They were where many workers in Reveller’s Row returned to after a long night of pretending to be happy for customers who couldn’t care less about them.
Sparse rows of dim lamp posts that hadn’t seen any sort of maintenance in forever provided the only source of illumination in the area, though they were mainly just decoration since most residents already had night vision-built to fulfil city regulations more than anything else.
“Well this is a change in scenery.” Enid strained her one eye not hidden by her hair to make out shapes in the scant light.
“Last chance to back out if you don’t feel like coming,” said Valen. “I won’t hold it against you. You’ve already helped me a lot by bringing me here.”
“It’s fine,” she repeated. “Besides, someone’s got to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt around here.”
Valen smiled. “Just wanted to make sure.”
In contrast to Reveller’s Row, few people dared to stroll Sharpe Street. Those who did either travelled in close groups or made a conscious effort to stay away from everyone else. One can never be too careful about who not to cross in the Nocturnal District.
Years attending a posh university and living with Enid in an even posher house had begun to make his childhood in Sharpe Street feel like a half-forgotten dream tucked into the recesses of his mind to make room for study notes.
Memories wormed their way back out at the sight of it unchanged even after all the time he spent away. Some pleasant. Others less so.
He remembered the joy he felt when he got his first job waiting tables at a pub. The disgust that boiled inside him as he forced himself to feed off rats when his family couldn’t afford blood substitutes. The horror and hunger that engulfed him upon witnessing his first muder and seeing how the exquisite crimson blood pooled on the alleyway floor.
“The Primordial Church is just down the street,” said Valen, pushing the memories back to the recesses of his mind. “We should be there in-”
“Oy!” boomed an unfamiliar voice behind him. “You ladies lost?”
Valen turned around to see three werewolves swaggering towards them. Coarse brown fur covered their forearms that ended with four-fingered hands and they walked shoeless on equally furry digitigrade legs.
They seemed to be about his age-maybe a bit younger, and carried themselves full of unearned confidence. For them to be brazen enough to cause trouble when they were barely out of Reveller’s Row meant that they were either smart enough to know that no witnesses would come to disturb them or were really new to being a gangster.
Valen was more inclined to believe the latter.
Upon getting closer, one of the werewolves who stood to the left with dyed blonde hair squinted at Valen in jest before letting out a hearty laugh.
“Oh! My mistake mate. Though you were a chick because of that ponytail. You could give a succubus a run for her money with that mug.”
His friends joined in on the laughter. Valen didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
He always had fine features that bordered on androgynous, with high cheekbones, a narrow jawline, and long black hair tied in a ponytail he kept draped over one shoulder.
Whatever the werewolves may have to say about his appearance, he’s heard it all before.
“Is there something we can help you with, sirs?” Valen kept his voice soft as he spoke but made a point to look the nearest werewolf straight in his piss yellow eyes as he did.
“Yeah, there’s a few things you can help us with actually,” said the werewolf at the centre of the trio. He was the tallest and most muscular of the three, but still struggled to grow a beard beyond a few sparse stubbles on his chin. “See, we’re all a bit strapped for cash.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Is that so?”
Valen snuck a glance at Enid. Her left fist was clenched with her knuckles extended like the barrels of a pistol.
Though he was no mage himself, his vampire blood let him sense powerful magic emanating from her like a thousand pins and needles prickling his skin. If she was readying a spell like he thought she was, then things could get real ugly real fast.
Valen squeezed her hand and shook his head at her.
“It’s not worth it,” he mouthed.
Enid gave him an annoyed ‘Hmph’ and relaxed her fist, though the magical static around her didn’t disappear. Valen hoped that meant she was at least willing to try the safer way out.
“Seeing that you’re able to roll in ‘round here in that fancy car back there, I reckon you got a draco or ten to spare, yeah?” The tallest werewolf pointed a clawed finger up to his ear to mirror where Valen wore his single silver ruby earring. “That earring looks like it could be worth something too, even if it does make you look like a sissy.”
Ignorant to the magical static around them, the werewolves swaggered forward.
Valen let go of Enid’s hand and put himself between her and the werewolves, though he wasn’t quite sure yet who he was protecting from who.
“Well aren’t you a knight in shining armour?” said the third and last of the werewolves, a twitchy little thing who looked more weasel than wolf. He turned to the tallest werewolf who seemed to be the leader. “Oy boss, why don’t you show him what for?”
The tall werewolf smirked. “Gladly.”
He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a metallic butterfly knife. He flicked it open but took way more time than necessary to perform a few basic flips with the double handles that he must’ve thought were impressive.
When he was finally finished, pointed the tip of the blade at Valen’s face.
“Now, are you gonna help us with our money problems or not?” The tall werewolf looked over Valen’s shoulders to leer at Enid, his eyes fixated on the generous curves on her chest. “Or, you know, you can let your girlfriend there help us in other ways.”
“There’ll be no need for that.” Valen spoke loudly enough to draw attention away from Enid but made sure to keep his tone calm to not escalate the situation. “We don’t mind giving you money if it means you’ll let us be on our way.”
The werewolves chuckled.
“Man, you believe this guy?” said the fake blonde werewolf.
“Cool as a cucumber, this one,” added the weasel-wolf.
The tallest werewolf’s lips curled into a grin. “I wonder how long that’ll last.”
He raised his butterfly knife and pressed the cold steel blade against Valen’s face.
The magical static behind Valen intensified into a shower of needles raining against his back. Enid probably would’ve shot her spell right then had he not held out an open palm behind him to tell her to stay back.
Valen considered his response. He still preferred to avoid a fight, though the chances of that happening were dropping by the second.
It disappeared entirely when a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in years cut him off before he could even try to de-escalate.
“Little kids shouldn’t play with knives, you know.”
The cold blade lifted from Valen’s face as everyone’s eyes turned towards the direction of the voice. Enid strained hers, finding it difficult to see through the darkness without night vision.
The shape of a snow white werewolf in a yellow hoodie emerged from the shadowed alleyway, her tiny frame half illuminated by the purple neon light leaking from Reveller’s Row behind her.
Though her height didn’t even scratch five feet, she carried herself as if she were ten feet tall with a wild air that screamed ‘don’t fuck with me’.
Her human skin and hair were as white as the wolven fur on her arms and legs and her golden eyes, the only speck of colour on her body, sized up the would-be muggers with a look of utter contempt.
“You.” The blonde werewolf spat on the ground at her approach. “What do you want, she-wolf?”
“Oh, just here to say hi to a friend.” Her pale lips curled into a mischievous grin before her golden eyes turned to Valen. “Hey Valen.”
“Hey Louise.” Valen offered her an awkward smile. “It’s been a while.”
Enid’s eyes homed onto Louise, whose white fur made her a bit easier to spot in the dark. “You know this chick?”
“She was my neighbour in the Nocturnal District.”
The tallest werewolf huffed. “You can visit what’s left of your twink in the hospital later. This doesn’t concern you werewolves.”
Enid looked between the werebeasts, confused. “Aren’t you guys all werewolves?”
“What, these chucklefucks?” Louise let out a bellowing laugh that sounded far too loud for someone so small. “They’re werecoyotes. Our weaker, much less successful cousins.”
“Look who’s talking.” The weaselly mugger who Valen just realised was supposed to be a coyote snarled. “You’re looking pretty small without your pack backing you up.”
Louise’s left eye twitched in annoyance.
“I don’t need their help kicking your sorry arses”
“Want to back that up, bitch?”
The weaselly coyote walked towards Louise, eager to try and assert dominance over someone small enough for him to beat. Key word being try.
The werecoyote managed to get three whole steps before Louise closed the distance for him. She dashed forward in a white-yellow blur that cut through the darkness and sent a flying knee crashing up into his jaw with enough force to send several teeth flying.
The grin on Louise’s face widened to show off her own set of white fangs. “Glady.”
“Shit!” The blonde werecoyote panicked and reached into his leather jacket for a weapon.
But before he could get the chance to pull it, Valen felt the magical static behind him transform into actual vibrations in the air as a streak of blue lightning crackled past him into the blonde werecoyote’s side. His scream was quickly drowned out by deafening crackles of electricity that blended with the booming techno music on the other side of the alleyway.
Valen thought he could see his skeleton light up for a split second before he crumpled onto the gravel, his blonde hair singed black and groaning in pain.
“A mage?!” The tallest werewolf spun around to fix his eyes on Enid standing behind Valen with electric sparks still dancing between the extended knuckles she used to channel her spell.
He tried to lunge past Valen to get to her, his arm extended for a panicked stab.
Valen moved on instinct. He caught the werecoyote by his knife arm, locking the forearm in his right elbow and pulling it close to force it to fully extend. Then, before the werecoyote could react, he pushed his left forearm against the upper arm with all his vampiric strength.
The combined forces of his upper arm and forearm being pushed and pulled in opposite directions tore open the werecoyote’s biceps and snapped the ligaments in his elbow as it bent in a direction it was never meant to.
There was a sickening crack followed by the werecoyote’s scream and the metallic clang of the butterfly knife dropping on the ground. Panicked, the werecoyote threw a wild left hook at Valen with his remaining arm.
Valen tensed his muscles a split second before the impact. His conscious mind didn’t realise he’d done it until the impotent punch had already hit him in the side. It barely hurt, having been thrown in a rush without proper form. Years of getting beat up and occasionally brutalised in the Nocturnal District had made taking hits second nature to him anyways.
He let go of the werecoyote’s now broken arm and threw a kick straight up between his legs and into his crotch before he could attempt another punch.
The werecoyote doubled forward with his face puckered up and eyes watering in pain. Valen felt something like rotten grapes being squished against his shin.
Had Valen been alone, he would’ve stopped at that. A kick to the bullocks was usually enough to get anyone to yield. But since he had Enid and now Louise to worry about, he decided to make extra sure he wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
Valen threw an uppercut at the werecoyote’s hunched body, aiming directly at his solar plexus nestled under his ribs and above his stomach. A spray of saliva shot from his mouth alongside what little breath was left inside his lungs, telling Valen he’d hit his intended mark.
He might not have gotten into medical school, but he was glad to put what learned for the entrance exam to good use.
The werecoyote’s legs buckled under him. Seizing the opportunity, Valen grabbed him by the hair and pulled it down, forcing him to kneel.
Though Valen was not one to condone excessive violence, there were times when a message had to be sent through an especially thick skull with something more substantial than words.
He hammered the bottom of his fist into the werecoyote’s stubbly chin while his other hand held him in place. He held back as to not accidentally kill him, but when he could still see a trace of consciousness left in his eyes after the first strike, he winded up his arm and hammered his fist into the same spot with a little more force.
This time, the werecoyote’s jaw dislocated itself from the rest of his skull. It dangled from his face, only kept from falling off by quickly swelling skin. Blood trickled past his yellow teeth and spilled out from the corners of his mouth.
Valen froze. The world around him faded away until nothing was left but him and the leaking bag of blood he held by the hair.
The smell was exquisite. Sweet and succulent and finer than any wine.
The thirst gnawed at Valen. Like a wild beast inside his gut trying to claw its way out through his throat, spurned forth by righteous rage and primal hunger in equal parts.
His ravenous fangs extended to their full size inside his mouth. Only willpower born from years of practised restraint allowed him to resist the urge to sink them into something.
Fighting with himself more than the man he was beating, Valen threw the werecoyote to the ground and raised his right leg high into the air. When his foot was above his head, he brought it smashing down straight against the werecoyote’s side in a brutal axe kick aimed at his liver.
With the immediate threat lying curled up on the ground, Valen spun around to check on his best friend. “Enid, you alright?”
“I’m fine.” The electricity dispersed from her hand along with the magical static around her. “Looks like I was the one who got protected after all.”
“Let’s agree that we protected each other,” Valen said with a smile before turning to Louise, who was still hunched over the weaselly mugger pummeling his face into a pulp that’ll take days to regenerate. “I think the poor bastard’s had enough, Lou.”
Louise elbowed the weaselly werecoyote in the face one last time for good measure before stepping away. “If you insist.”
The moment she let him go, he scrambled to his feet to run away, leaving his two incapacitated friends behind.
Enid scoffed. “Guess there’s no honour among thieves.”
“Honour’s a rare export around here.” Louise strided over to the previously blonde werecoyote to loot his singed leather jacket, pocketing his wallet and the switchblade he was reaching for when Enid electrocuted him. “I’ll be taking these, thank you. Now let’s see what your boss-oh?”
Valen and Enid followed Louise’s bemused gaze to find the tallest werecoyote trying to crawl towards his dropped butterfly knife.
“Seriously?” said Enid with an exasperated sigh.
“Looks like this one hasn’t had enough,” added Louise.
“So it would seem.” Valen stepped on the werecoyote’s left hand as he reached for his butterfly knife. “Do you really want me to break this arm too?”
The calm tone of his voice made it sound like less of a threat and more like a genuine question, but the message behind it remained clear.
The werecoyote looked up only to avert his gaze when it met Valen’s blood red eyes.
“No,” he gargled through his broken jaw.
With the sole of his black leather boot still firmly pressed against the werecoyote’s hand, Valen bent down and grabbed the open butterfly knife from the ground.
“Then go.” He lifted his foot from the werecoyote’s hand. “Walk or crawl away. Whichever you can manage.”
The werecoyote looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t through his broken jaw. Probably for the best, for his sake.
Defeated, he rose to his knees and attempted to drag himself back to the neon lit safety of Reveller’s Row on his one unbroken arm.
Seemingly annoyed at the speed of his retreat, Enid shot another bolt of lightning from her knuckles that scorched a hole in the asphalt inches away from him and jolted him back to his feet running for dear life.
Enid swiped her hand in the air, dispersing the lightning running through it. “Bloody punk.”
Louise looked Enid up and down with mild confusion.
“This is your new girlfriend?” Her eyes lingered on Enid’s chest a bit longer than needed. “Well, I guess I can see why. You sure know how to pick’em.”
Valen cleared his throat before closing the butterfly knife he took from his would-be mugger.
“Louise, this is Enid. She was my mate from school. Enid, this is Louise. I grew up with her around here.”
Enid stared down Louise. “Hi.”
“Hey," replied Louise, staring back with equal intensity.
Valen wasn’t quite sure why, but he got the feeling they didn’t like each other very much already.
With the danger having passed, Valen felt his fangs retract back into more or less human-like teeth.
“So, Louise, what brought you out here this time of night?” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“I was drinking at the pub across the street when I spotted you getting out of that blue posh mobile back there.” She pointed at the alleyway behind her. “I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me at first but decided to come see for myself when I saw those three chucklefucks follow you in.”
“It’s a good thing you did too,” said Valen. “We owe you one.”
“We could’ve taken them,” said Enid with a hand on her hip.
Valen nudged her side with the tip of his elbow. “I think what Enid meant to say was ‘thank you.’”
“Don’t mention it,” said Louise, though she casted a sideways glance at Enid that looked less than friendly. “It’s nice to see that the good life hasn’t softened you up too much. Also,” she looked at the unconscious werecoyote Enid electrocuted, “is that guy going to be okay or do I have to help you hide a body?”
“He’ll be fine,” said Enid. “I took into account his size and healing factor when I shocked him. He’ll wake up with the mother of all headaches in an hour or so.”
“Fair enough.” Louise pointed at the butterfly knife Valen had taken from his would-be mugger. “You should keep that by the way. Spoils of war and whatnot. People with no actual skills tend to compensate with fancy knives but I reckon you can make better use of it.”
“I’ll admit, it’s been a while since I’ve handled one of these.” Valen flicked the butterfly knife open to admire the sharpness of the blade which had been pressed against his cheek not too long ago before twirling it back closed in a complicated fan trick. “Almost forgot how much fun they were.”
“So that’s why you’re so good at cooking,” Enid muttered under her breath, recalling how well he handled his kitchen knives.
Louise shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized sleeveless hoodie.
“Anyways, you’ve picked a fine bloody time to come back to the Nocturnal District.” She spat on the ground, the loogie landing right on the unconscious werecoyote’s head. “I thought I’d never see you again after you fucked off to Silverlake. What compelled you to return to this shithole?”
Enid glared at her. “That’s none of your-”
Valen put a hand on her shoulder before she could finish.
“It’s fine,” he assured her before turning back to Louise. “I’m here to research a dissertation.”
“Of course you are,” said Louise. “For med school?”
“I, uh, didn’t get in.” Valen rubbed the back of his head. “I’m taking a master’s in clinical psychology instead.”
“Oh.” The fierce look in her eye was replaced by that of a guilty puppy caught making a mess. “Um, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” said Valen. “It’s not your fault.”
It was his own fault for thinking he could get in. One of his trusted professors, the only one who took the time to write him a letter of recommendation, had told him in private long before he applied to not get his hopes up despite his near perfect grades.
Apparently even the prestigious Silverlake Medical School weren’t keen to accept a student who needs to drink blood into a field where it can be found in abundance.
“So, uh, what’s your dissection about?” asked Louise in an attempt to alleviate the awkwardness.
“Dissertation,” Valen corrected her. “I’m writing one on Religious Psychology.”
“That sounds interesting,” she lied. “Why come to Nocturnal District of all places though?”
“We’re here to research the Primordial Church. They’ve been handing out leaflets on the university campus so I decided to come see what they’re about.”
Louise furrowed her brow. “The cult?”
“Religious movement,” Valen corrected her again.
“So basically a cult.”
“Hey, I’m here to research it, not judge it.”
“Speaking of which,” Enid wrapped her hand back round Valen’s, “we ought to get going to our cult meeting now.”
“Yes, we are running a bit late.” Valen didn’t even bother correcting her again. “Well, it was nice meeting you again, Louise. I’ll see you around.”
“Wait,” said Louise before he could turn his back. “Is it alright if I come with you?”
Valen gave her a puzzled look.
“You want to visit the Primordial Church with us? You just called it a cult ten seconds ago.”
“Well, maybe I just need a little push to find my god.”
Louise didn’t even try to hide her sarcasm. Like most werebeasts, she didn’t exactly have the best opinion of her creator god.
Valen studied her alabaster face. It didn’t seem like she liked the Primordial Church very much, but the nervous way she scratched the white fur on her arms while awaiting his response told him that she knew something about it he didn’t.
“I don’t mind,” he said, deciding that having her around as a bodyguard wouldn’t hurt. “What about you, Enid?”
Enid rolled her eyes. “It’s your dissertation. If you’re cool with her tagging along then I don’t mind either.”
“It’s settled then!” Louise walked up to Valen’s side with a spring in her step. “A lot of things have changed around here so I’ll help show you around.”
Enid narrowed her eyes at the white werewolf when she put a hand on Valen’s shoulder.
“Do try to stay out of trouble though,” she said. “Those thugs seemed awfully familiar with you and I have to wonder why.”
“My gang days are over. I can’t help it if those dipshits didn’t get the memo.” She glared back at Enid. “I’d be more worried about you. You’re just asking for trouble dressed like that.”
“I’m literally just wearing a trench coat and jumper,” said Enid, growing annoyed. “Don’t diss my drip just because you buy yours in the kids section.”
“Well excuse me for being fucking frugal, Thunder Tits!”
“Watch what you’re looking at, Snowball.”
Valen kept on a nervous smile as the two people he’d considered his best friend at one point or another bickered on either side of him, wondering if he’d just made a terrible mistake.