Twilight: Blood calling

"Is Charlie Swan your uncle?" the one Nate recognized as the leader asked again, while Nate, crouched on all fours, observed the snarling wolf and the two other boys who looked at him with amusement.

"Y... yes, he is," Nate replied, his eyes darting between them.

He was sizing them up, wondering if he could take them. It was one thing to run through the forest, knocking down trees, but fighting four bear-sized wolves, all with super strength and speed, was another challenge entirely—especially given how fast the dark gray wolf had moved.

"The police chief of Forks?" the leader asked again, noticing Nate's uneasy gaze.

"Yes!" Nate snapped, frustration creeping into his voice.

The wolf, looking ready to pounce, was suddenly yanked aside by the leader, who grabbed its fur and whispered something. Though quiet, Nate heard it clearly.

"Leave. Go blow off some steam. I'll handle this."

The wolf resisted briefly, but one stern glare from the leader made it back off and disappear into the forest.

As Nate watched the wolf vanish, he shifted his focus back to the three others standing before him—potential wolves, too.

"Alright, how about we all calm down," the leader said, approaching with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Calm down?" Nate repeated, anger bubbling up from being attacked without reason. "I wasn't the one who attacked you!" he half-shouted in frustration. He didn't realize it at first, but a low growl escaped his throat.

The leader hesitated when he heard the growl but, after a moment, continued forward.

"I admit we were a bit forceful with our introduction, but we thought you were an enemy," he explained, stopping about two meters from where Nate still crouched. "You can understand that, can't you?"

Nate studied him carefully, searching for any signs of deception. Glancing between him and the other two standing behind, Nate slowly rose to his feet, though he didn't fully let his guard down.

"I understand the hostility," Nate replied, his tone calmer now that the tension seemed to be fading. "But I told you explicitly—I'm not your enemy."

The leader nodded. "Yes, and I apologize for that." He extended Nate's phone toward him.

Still cautious, Nate hesitated. He looked between the phone and the boy holding it before slowly reaching out to take it.

"Yeah, alright," Nate muttered, glancing briefly at the missed call from his uncle before his attention shifted back to the three strangers.

"So... what do you want?" Nate asked, his mistrust still evident.

The leader, realizing it was time for formal introductions, spoke up.

"Yeah, sorry for the late introduction. I'm Sam, and these are Jared and Embry." He motioned to the two guys behind him, both wearing amused yet guarded expressions.

Nate nodded and extended his hand toward Sam, who he recognized as the leader of their pack—or whatever they were. "Nate Swan," he said curtly.

Sam shook his hand, and Nate instantly recognized the enhanced strength in his grip. But Nate knew—he was stronger. Much stronger.

"So, I'm guessing the one who attacked me won't be doing that again?" Nate asked, glancing between Sam and the others.

"Paul? No, not unless he has a reason to," Sam said, making it clear that while this was a temporary truce, they were still wary of each other. For now, there would be no more attacks or fights.

"But how about we get off the street and talk somewhere more private?" Sam suggested, echoing Nate's own thoughts. After instructing Jared and Embry to leave, the two disappeared into the woods. Sam then proposed that they ride in Nate's car to wherever they could speak in peace.

Seeing no issue with it, Nate agreed, driving while Sam gave him directions. The car ride was silent, except for Sam's occasional instructions on where to go.

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After driving off-road for a while on a dirt path, Nate stopped in front of a wooden cabin that seemed to be their destination. From the smell, he guessed this was their hangout spot.

"This it?" he asked, watching as Sam was already leaving the car.

"Yeah, follow me," Sam said as he got out. Nate followed close behind.

Before entering the cabin, Nate heard three short yips from inside. Sam responded with his own, mimicking the sound as he opened the door. As Nate stepped in, the first thing he noticed was the eye-watering stench of wet dog mixed with the heavy scent of burning wood, making him cough and cover his nose as he walked behind Sam.

"Ugh," he groaned audibly, catching the attention of the guys sitting around a circular table, all of them eyeing him with suspicion.

"What's the problem?" Sam asked, turning back to look at him.

Not knowing how to sugarcoat it, Nate decided to be blunt. "You guys have a... unique smell," he said, trying not to grimace as he uncovered his nose.

"Well, you don't smell any better, walking corpse," Embry shot back, making all the guys laugh.

"Alright, guys, how about we keep it down," said a female voice. A woman with striking features walked in, looking oddly familiar. She had long black hair, olive skin, and beautiful features, marred only by a red scar still healing on her face. If not for the scar, she could easily have been mistaken for a model.

With quick steps, she approached Sam, who was halfway through the house, and they embraced, kissing passionately.

"Ugh, alright, enough with the PDA, we get it already," Paul said, rolling his eyes.

Nate was still annoyed about Paul attacking him earlier but kept quiet for now as Sam and the woman turned to face him.

"So, this is him?" she asked, letting go of Sam as she approached. Sam followed closely behind her, clearly not trusting her to approach Nate alone.

"You don't look so different," she said, giving Nate a quick once-over.

Nate, confused by her friendliness, only nodded. "Thanks... I guess," he replied.

"I'm Emily Young," she introduced herself, but before Nate could respond, he was interrupted.

"Yeah, what's that all about?" Embry chimed in. "I didn't focus on it earlier, but you have a beating heart, yet you smell like blood and bleach—like the redhead we've been hunting." Sam guided Nate to sit down on a wooden stool, facing everyone as if he were being interrogated.

"Well, I don't know who you're comparing me to, but my body is very much alive," Nate said, recalling the limited information his father had left him about the vampires they called the "cold ones."

"Vampires," Sam corrected. "You smell a bit different from the ones we've come across, and you don't look like them either. But you clearly have some similarities." His gaze, along with everyone else's, locked onto Nate, who sat silently, carefully considering how to explain it.

"Alright, I'll clarify," Nate finally said. "I am a vampire." The room went silent, everyone staring at him with suspicion. "But instead of being turned, I was made in a lab."

"Wait, wait, wait—WHAT?!" Embry shouted, standing up so fast his wooden chair clattered to the floor, completely dropping his tough-guy act. "When you say 'made in a lab,' you mean figuratively, right?" He flailed his arms around like a toddler, making Nate chuckle slightly.

Nate, with an amused smirk, shook his head. He debated whether to trust them enough to reveal such a huge secret. It had only been two weeks since he discovered the truth, and just as long since he'd started hiding it. Part of him wanted to talk about it, but was it wise to open up to a group of guys he barely knew—especially ones who had been hostile toward him?

What finally swayed him was when his eyes met Sam's. Sam sat with Emily on his lap—a quiet but powerful gesture of trust. Nate realized Sam was offering goodwill by bringing him here, to such an intimate, private space, despite their rocky start. It was his way of showing Nate that he was willing to trust him.

Nate decided to trust them in return.

"No... I mean literally," Nate said, looking around the room, waiting for the inevitable question.

"How?" Sam asked. With as little detail as possible, Nate explained how and why his father had transformed him, and what it meant for his illness.

As Nate spoke, everyone, even Paul—who had been scowling at him—listened attentively, not interrupting until he finished.

"So... in short, your father did all that to cure you of a terminal disease?" Sam asked. Nate nodded in confirmation. "And you've been dormant, so to speak, until two weeks ago when you came to Forks. Is that correct?" Sam continued, and Nate nodded again.

"Holy shit, dude! If that's not a villain origin story, I don't know what is," Jared said, breaking the tension with disbelief.

Nate noticed Paul glaring at him before he spoke, freezing the room.

"It doesn't matter, does it? He's still a vampire. For all we know, he's already killed someone," Paul said darkly, making Nate tense in frustration.

"Paul has a fair point," Sam said seriously, locking eyes with Nate. "You're a vampire, which means you need blood."

"You're not wrong in assuming I need blood," Nate began, seeing everyone still on edge. "But I haven't touched blood since I was turned, and I definitely haven't killed anyone for it," he clarified, which made everyone visibly relax.

"Besides, I don't need real blood. I can survive on artificial blood... if I can get my hands on some," Nate added, whispering the last part.

It was something he had been thinking about ever since his hunger attack earlier. If he could stock up on artificial blood and find a reliable source, he wouldn't ever need real blood.

"So, in other words, you're still figuring out how your abilities work and what it means to be what you are," Sam said, avoiding the word "vampire."

Nate, lost in thought about where to get artificial blood, nodded. Sam had a thoughtful expression before he nudged Emily to stand and walked toward Nate, extending his hand.

"Then it's decided," Sam said. "How about an alliance of sorts?" he offered, his hand still extended as Nate slowly stood up.

"We help you learn more about your abilities and other aspects of yourself, and in return, you promise not to harm any humans. You'll also join our patrols to protect the people from the cold ones if they ever come through here." His proposal was met with outraged shouts from the boys, but Emily quickly quieted them.

"So, do we have a deal?" Sam asked, his hand still outstretched.

Nate weighed the pros and cons. There were no immediate downsides. He would gain allies in this unfamiliar world and test his strength against other supernatural creatures. If helping them meant more security, then so be it.

Nate took Sam's hand and shook it firmly. "I accept," he said, as Sam grinned, feeling Nate's grip strength, which clearly overpowered his own.

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Pulling up to his uncle's house after that exhausting ordeal, Nate let out a weary sigh as he stepped out of the car, holding the DAW he had completely forgotten about amidst the day's headache-inducing adventures.

He exhaled heavily as he entered the makeshift studio, setting down the now-fixed DAW and collapsing into the chair. His head spun with everything that had happened.

First, he had met the wife of his deceased father's best friend, hoping she might have more information about his transformation and what it meant for his future. But he quickly found out that his father's friend was also dead—and had been for a good decade now. That lead went cold fast, though at least Anna, Steven's wife, had been nice enough to stick around. She even suggested meeting again this week, although she was technically trying to "fix" him, given that she was a shrink.

Then there was Sam and the pack. That was another situation to unravel. Everything had happened so fast—from meeting them to fighting them, and now, being allies with them—it had given Nate whiplash. The only reason he had been so cooperative was because he wasn't ready for other supernaturals to be in Forks, and they had caught him off guard. He had to play it carefully and strategically.

But as it turned out, they weren't bad guys, and from what he gathered, he stood to gain a lot by being their ally.

Before leaving the pack's cabin, Sam had proposed meeting in the woods tomorrow to test Nate's abilities and see how they worked. They even offered to help him, which seemed like the perfect chance to test his strength fully against them. So far, all Nate had done was punch trees and rocks—neither of which stood a chance against him—so he was at least excited for that.

Sighing, Nate felt his phone vibrating. Checking the caller ID, it read "Stress Bomb." He answered.

"Hello," Nate said, bracing himself for what always happened when his friend called.

"DUUUUUUUUDE!" came Mathew's usual, over-the-top greeting.

"How many times have I told you to stop doing that?" Nate said in a mock-angry tone. In truth, he missed his eccentric, over-the-top friend—ordinary in many ways, but still irreplaceable.

"I've lost count. But hey, how've you been? You haven't called in two weeks! I was starting to think you ditched me for a woman... on second thought, I take that back," Mathew said, with the sound of loud music playing in the background.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Nate replied sarcastically, glancing at the time. It was close to 7 PM. "What's with the music? Where are you?"

"Oh, I'm at the club," Mathew answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Okay," Nate responded, knowing it made sense. Mathew loved going to clubs—not for the girls or the drinks like most people, but for the music and dancing. Ever since Nate could remember, Mathew would hit the club just to dance for hours on end, coming back the next day to do it all over again.

"Anyway, I called to ask when you're releasing a new song. I'm not there to monitor your ass, so give me something, Nate," Mathew said, slipping into his manager role.

Nate, who had been toying with a song idea for the past week, hesitated before answering. "Well, I've been thinking about something... but—"

"Wait, are you hesitating? Nathaniel freaking Swan hesitating when it comes to music?!" Mathew shouted dramatically. "Listen, man, a couple days ago, I was talking to this woman, right? We were having drinks, getting to know each other, vibing, you know. She asked me what I do for work, and you know what I said? I told her, 'I'm the manager of the greatest rapper of all time.' She got all excited and asked me, 'Who?' And you know what happened when I said NFS?"

Nate, tuning Mathew out, busied himself connecting Bella's MP3 player to his laptop.

"She said who—Nate, she had no idea who you were. DO YOU UNDER—"

Nate cut the call off, sighing to himself. He knew how Mathew got when he was like this, rambling non-stop until he finally calmed down. Mathew wouldn't even realize Nate had hung up until at least 30 minutes later, once his rant ended.

"Guess there's no point in hesitating now," Nate muttered to himself. "She would have found out at some point anyway. Might as well use this sample." He was talking about Bella eventually discovering his rapper alter ego.

After listening to the sample on Bella's MP3—sung by a girl Nate assumed was Bella's friend—he was inspired to create a song to finish the sample. Unconsciously, he'd been working on it for the past two weeks and had finally put it down on paper two nights ago when he had nothing better to do.

"Here goes nothing, I guess," he said, finishing setting everything up before playing the new and edited version of the song.

He hit "broadcast," and as the music started playing, Nate slipped into the headspace of rapping. All thoughts of the supernatural world and his mother faded, leaving only the rhythm and words flowing in his mind. The music washed everything else away, and all that remained was the song.

I can't be the only one who's lonely tonight I can't be the only—

Yeah, does anybody feel like me? Show of hands, I don't need a lot, I just wanna find my peace Yeah, why you throwin' rocks, oh, you wanna kill my dreams? Okay, tell me everything I'm not You think I didn't know those things?Always been a little lost and I still might be Life's hard, but it's okay (Okay)Watchin' the comments feels like I'm at a court date How could I complain With a house like this and a car like that in the driveway? Half of what I say Kinda feels like a dream that I'm gonna wake from someday Wishin' that I'd pray A little more often and put more time into my faith Travel in my brain, woo, might find damage and no grace Things that I hold on to, but I won't say things that I won't let go So I chain my soul to the heartbreak Havin' a nice day, that's not a average in my case Stones like cameras in my face; glamour, it's all fake Love my job, but it might seem odd that I'm here 'cause I hate fame Yeah, pay my debt to me, throwin' threats at me They can't tell this connectin' me, it's affectin' me Hide that well, they'll write checks to me, but don't check on me By myself, always questioning what comes next for me I can't be the only—

Nate poured his soul out to the world, every word he sang laced with raw emotion and meaning, leaving nothing unsaid in his message. His voice carried a sense of vulnerability and truth, as if each verse was a window into his inner struggles and hopes.

At the same time, the world was listening. As Nate unraveled his newest song, countless people—both those he knew and those he had yet to meet—were forming their own thoughts about the man behind the music.

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Hey guys, back again after three days!

I really hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm going to need some constructive criticism and ideas moving forward because while I have a vision of where the story is headed, I'm not entirely sure how to get there just yet. So any ideas or suggestions you might have would be greatly appreciated!

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