Chapter 2: The Strangers

"Ugh, my head," Ethan groaned. His head felt like It was going to explode, and his body was heavy.

"How much did I drink?" He cursed as he opened his eyes and glanced at the dark room. His hand habitually patted the side of the bed for his phone.

When he didn't find it, he turned with a frown. "Where is it?"

He forced himself to stand up, the headache threatening to overwhelm him. Another moan escaped his mouth as he clutched his head in pain. The curtains were closed, and the room was still dark, but he could hear the noise of the city outside.

"When did I fall asleep?" He muttered as he pushed himself out of bed.

Memories of the night before were a blur. He frowned as he tried to recall them. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, the bright sunlight in the living room caused him to shield his eyes in pain. It was too bright, and the damn headache did not subside.

"Oh god, I'm never drinking again," He cursed as he fumbled toward the kitchen.

His phone was there on the counter. Ethan grabbed it and checked the time. It was already one pm. Thankfully, since today was a Sunday, he had the day off. He quickly went through his phone and was not surprised by the lack of messages. The only notification he had was of a novel he was following.

Shaking his head, Ethan opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. He was extremely thirsty, probably due to his drinking too much the night before. His hand suddenly froze as he caught a glance at a knife placed on the counter.

Memories of the previous night suddenly rushed forward like a flood. The dead man in the alley, the crazy silver-haired lady. She broke into his house and attacked him in the kitchen. Everything came back all at once.

The water bottle slipped from his hand and fell on the floor with a light thud. Ethan hastily scanned his surroundings. His apartment was small, a single bedroom, one living room with an open kitchen, and a single bathroom.

The living room was clear, his room was empty, and that only left the bathroom. He cautiously eyed the knife and nervously gulped. With his phone clutched in his hand, he slowly moved to the bathroom.

The door was closed, and he couldn't hear anyone inside. Taking a deep breath, Ethan mentally counted to three and opened the door with a bang.

"Phew," A long sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he looked at the empty bathroom.

"Am I losing my mind?" He muttered to himself. The house was empty, and there was no sign of the strange woman.

A part of him tried to dismiss the memories as nothing but a drunk man's hallucinations. But deep down, he knew that wasn't possible. He was sure of it. He didn't drink that much yesterday. Not to mention, everything was too real.

Just who the hell was that?

He moved to the sink to wash his face before he froze.

"Oh, what the hell..."

Staring back at him was a pair of cold, dead eyes. For a moment, Ethan thought he was hallucinating. His face was deathly pale. His hair was still the same color, but his eyes were grey.

"What the," he approached the mirror, staring deep into his reflection with disbelief.

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"My eyes..." He muttered as he rubbed his eyes in shock. No matter how long he stared at them, they remained grey.

It made him look like a corpse, his dead eyes, the pale color of his skin. Ethan's mind was going into overdrive as he stumbled out of the bathroom. The bright sunlight caused him to frown as he collapsed on the sofa.

"What the hell did she do to me?" He cursed as he stared at his pale fingers.

Sure, the countless night shifts and long working hours had taken their toll on his body, but he was never this pale. He could see the blue veins under his skin.

Just as he was scratching his head at the absurdity of the entire situation, a sudden pain from his heart caused him to collapse on the ground, clutching his chest.

The pain was swift. It came out of nowhere and knocked the breath out of him. He could hear his heart slowly beating in his chest, the rhythm growing weaker and weaker.

A-Am I dying?

The pain was unbearable, and he could not breathe. He didn't even have the strength to scream for help. Ethan looked at his phone, placed on the table, and stretched his hand to grab it, but it was futile.

He didn't have the energy to reach it. He curled his body in pain, tears streaming out of his eyes, as he continued to hear his heartbeat grow weaker and weaker before eventually... It stopped.

His vision grew darker, and the noises from the street below became muffled. Ethan felt as if his blood was boiling underneath his skin. A roar escaped his mouth as his face contorted and morphed into that of a monster with fangs before it quickly reverted to normal.

The sound of frantic knocking on his door caused him to weakly turn his head toward it and reach out with his hand. Help, please! Anyone!

The world began to spin as he felt his bones creaking painfully. It was then that the door to his apartment burst open.

"Shit, It started already," A brown-haired middle-aged lady said as she approached him.

"We have to take care of it, or else It's going to be a mess," A dark-skinned man answered by her side.

Both of the strangers had faint golden eyes. They walked closer to Ethan, who was now convulsing violently. The man clicked his tongue in annoyance and took out an unorthodox knife.

"Make it quick this time. I don't want to clean up another mess," the woman added.

"Then you do it," the man grumbled as he kneeled and grabbed Ethan by the hair.

Ethan weakly opened his eyes and stared at his would-be killer, when the man froze.

"What are you doing? Kill him already, and let's go," the woman spoke.

"Clara, you got to see this," he replied.

"Damn it, Terrell, what is it this time?" she cursed as she approached Ethan.

Her eyes widened in shock as she looked at his face.

"Oh dear, this is not good, this is not good at all," she mumbled.

"What the fuck do we do, Clara? He's a Grey!"

Clara stood up and took a deep breath, "Okay, let me just think for a second," she said.

"We don't have a second, Clara! It's a fucking Grey! I'm not touching him!" Terrell cursed and released his hold on Ethan, causing his head to hit the ground.

"It can't be her, she can't be back," Clara anxiously bit her nail as she paced through the small living room.

"I'm not taking that chance, Clara," Terrell said as he stood up and raised his hands. "If you want to do it, you go ahead, but not even the Council can make me kill her fucking offspring!"

"Calm down, damn it! We don't know for sure if it's her or not!"

"Look at his fucking eyes, Clara! They are Grey! If not her, then who?!"

"Shit, shit, shit! We can't leave him like this. He's going to go wild soon," She cursed and took out her phone.

"Who are you calling?" Terrell asked.

"Back up," she said anxiously, as she eyed Ethan. "Just us two are not going to be enough," she added.

"So he lives?" Terrell asked.

"I thought you said not even the Council can get you to kill him?" Clara asked sarcastically, "Why changed your mind now?"

Terrell quickly shook his head, "No, let's just get past this first and let them handle everything else."

Clara rolled her eyes and walked out of the apartment, "Hello? Yeah, we need help..." Her voice trailed off as she left, leaving behind a nervous Terrell.

"Hey man, listen, It's going to be alright," he spoke, trying to calm Ethan.

Ethan tried to open his eyes again to look at the man, but he was in too much pain. Another roar escaped his mouth, and his face morphed once more.

"Ah fuck, Clara! We don't have much time!" Terrell yelled out and hastily moved away from Ethan.

"What happened?" She asked as she walked back and closed the door behind her.

Terrell pointed to Ethan and replied, "I think It's starting," he said.

"Damn it! I guess It's just you and me then until backup arrives, they are already on their way."

Another bestial roar escaped Ethan. A dark shadowy aura began to emit out of his body. It slowly began to expand, covering the entire living room, and plunged it into darkness, with Ethan in the middle of it.

"Are you sure we can hold on until then?" Terrell asked.

"We don't have much of a choice," Clara hissed as sharp claws extended from her nails.

"I knew It was bad luck to come with you!" Terrell groaned as his eyes glowed brighter.

"Me? This is all you! I was fine working alone!" Clara grumbled in annoyance.

"Sure, that's why you push all the work to me!"

"Shut up, Terrell, now is not the time," she said as she faced Ethan.

"H-He's standing up, Clara!"

"I can see that," she nervously gulped, "Now calm down, boy. I know you can hear me in there," she said.

Ethan had his head down, his face masked by the thick shadowy aura that constantly emitted from his body.

Hearing her words, Ethan slowly raised his head and faced them. His grey eyes were blank, akin to those of a dead man. His gaze caused shivers to run down Clara and Terrell's spine.

"That's it, we are here to help you," Clara spoke softly in an attempt to reassure him.

Ethan turned to glance at her and tilted his head slightly. His figure blurred and reappeared right in front of her.

"Fuck," Terrell tensed.

"Don't move," Clara whispered, her claws slowly retracting as she raised her hands.

"We are not here to fight you. We are here to help," she said.

Ethan didn't answer, instead, he turned his gaze to Terrell. The man shuddered in response, his golden eyes flickering with a stronger light.

His figure disappeared again and reappeared right in front of him. Grey eyes, like shards of ice, bore into Terrell’s soul. And then, with a cruel intimacy, Ethan moved closer, mere inches away. His breath, a frosty whisper, grazed Terrell’s skin.

Terrell cursed before he lashed out, a kick fueled by fear sending Ethan hurtling backward. The living room’s wall splintered, yielding to the impact. Plaster rained down like confetti at a twisted celebration.

"Why did you do that?!" Clara shouted.

"I panicked!" Terrell hastily replied.