The curse of the hunted.

Chapter Two

As we drove through the mist, leaving the ghost town behind, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alaric was changing. He hadn't said much after we left, his usual calm exterior masking whatever storm was brewing beneath the surface. But every now and then, I caught him staring at his hands, flexing his fingers like he was testing their strength.

The bite had done something to him. He wasn't just infected; he was evolving. And fast.

"We need to figure this out," I said after a long silence. "Before it gets out of hand."

Alaric's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "It already is." He finally glanced at me, and in the dim light, his blue eyes glowed brighter than before. "I can feel it, Ethan. The strength. The knowledge. I don't... I don't know if I can control it."

The weight of his words hung between us. This wasn't just any vampire bite—he had been marked by a Master. That meant their knowledge, their power, was coursing through him, rewriting who he was.

"Pull over," I said suddenly.

"What?"

"Pull over. Now."

Alaric hesitated but complied, bringing the SUV to a stop on the side of the road. I turned to face him fully, searching his expression for any sign of the man I knew. "You're not turning into one of them," I said firmly. "We'll find a way to stop it."

Alaric let out a short, humorless laugh. "You don't understand, Ethan. It's not just about stopping it. They've... they've lived for centuries. Seen things. Known things." He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes. "I can feel them in my head. I can't block it out."

A chill ran down my spine. He wasn't just turning. He was becoming one of them—an vampire, with all the power and knowledge that came with it.

Alaric leaned back against the seat, exhaling a deep, shaky breath. The fear I had seen moments ago seemed to fade as something else took its place. Acceptance. Or worse—interest.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression softening as if he was listening to something only he could hear. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, more controlled. "Maybe it's not a curse," he murmured.

"What?"

Alaric opened his eyes and looked at me, his gaze steady and unnervingly calm. "Maybe it's not a curse, Ethan. I've been fighting these things my whole life. Always running, always hunting. But what if this is an advantage? I know what they know. I can feel their strength."

"You don't actually believe that," I said, my pulse quickening. "It's the bite messing with your head. You're not one of them."

"I'm not," he agreed, nodding slowly. "But I'm not entirely human anymore, either. And maybe that's... a good thing."

I stared at him, my mind racing. "Alaric, you've always been the one telling me to stay grounded, to keep control. Now you're telling me you want to let this thing take over?"

"It's not about letting go." He ran a hand through his long hair, a slight tremor in his fingers. "It's about using what I've been given. You know as well as I do that the things we hunt are getting stronger, more dangerous. What if this is the only way to beat them?"

His words sent a chill through me. I had known Alaric for years, trusted him with my life more times than I could count. But this... this was different. He wasn't just talking about using their knowledge—he was talking about embracing it.

I didn't have an answer for him. Not yet, anyway. The night was thick around us, and I could feel exhaustion creeping into my bones. We needed to regroup, to think this through with clear heads. "We should find somewhere to rest," I said finally. "Before we do anything we can't take back."