Romancek: A Hemlock Grove Fan Fiction

Peter

**Authors Note: I've started adding quotes from music at the beginning of each chapter. The songs set the scene for my writing experience. I do not claim any of the lyrics.

Chapter 1

'How many days and nights will come and go,

While the only light you'll see is from my glow,

There will never be a dawn that breaks,

The spell surrounding us,

Till the earth dies with the sun'

Peter sniffed the air, he wasn't in his other form, but the moon was close enough that he could smell the stinging sweetness of blood in the air, even in the daylight. The smell was human, but who was bleeding in the middle of history class?

As Mr. Thomas droned on about the dull history of Pennsylvania, and the even more dull history of our very own Hemlock Grove, (which was founded by his great great great great grandfather, as he never failed to mention), Peter drifted off, staring out the window.

Peter had only been here a week, and he didn't plan on staying for long. His mother and himself were constantly moving, searching, but for what she wouldn't say. She must have been getting desperate for something, because they were here now, in Hemlock Grove, where she had always said the secrets grew thicker than a wolfs pelt and the lies were never white, but yellow.

"Peter, has something more entertaining caught your interest?", Mr. Thomas had caught him staring out the window, a level one offense in his class, but an offense nonetheless.

"No sir, I was merely admiring the beauty that your ancestors gave to us while I was completely enraptured with your lengthy lecture", Peter replied, showing only the faintest signs of sarcasm.

"Well then, admire away Mr. Rumancek, but please do it on your own time", Mr. Thomas said.

Mr. Thomas picked back up where he had left off, something about Hemlock being a leading city (Hemlock Grove could hardly constitute as a city) in medical research and technology. Of course, Hemlocks shining beacon, it's residential 'star pupil', that is, if Hemlock was a school and the old, decrepit buildings were pupils. Hemlock was home to none other than the Godfrey Institute, the first and last say in the biomedical community. And it was spear-headed by Hemlocks own Olivia Godfrey.

Peter preferred to look outside. But as he turned from watching Mr. Thomas, toward the window, he smelled it again. Blood. Someone in the room, and someone close.

Peter sat at the back of the room, on it's leftmost side, so whoever he was smelling could be anywhere in his row, up until the middle. But why was he so concerned about the smell of blood? He wasn't, but he was concerned that he wasn't smelling an open wound, he would be able to smell the festering skin around it. No, this was something else, something he had never experienced, the scent of blood under skin, and it smelled delicious.

But, there was no time, the bell was ringing and the school day was over. Being new, Peter didn't have friends, but that was fine because he didn't have enemies either. He had learned how to stay under the radar, how to be as inconspicuous as possible, because there was no sense in getting attached to places, not when you were what he was, not when you were a gypsy.

As Peter got up to leave the class, he tried to inhale deeply as he passed his classmates, trying to find who he was smelling. He had no luck. So, Peter went to his locker and got his bag and headed home, thankful that today was Friday and that the weekend was long. Thankful that Monday was a bogus Hemlock Grove holiday, because Sunday was the full moon. Thankful that he didn't walk in groups like the other kids, because he didn't need friends, only this thankfulness came with a longing as well.