Twilight: Blood calling

It was nighttime in Forks. The sun had set a little later today as winter slowly came to a close.

Anna, as usual, was at home, having just finished with her last client, a man who suspected his wife was cheating on him.

She stood at the sink, washing the dirty teacups, while soft jazz music played in the background. This was her nightly ritual: listening to jazz as she cleaned or baked something light for her clientele.

As she picked up one of the many cups and began scrubbing, a sudden gust of wind rushed past her, startling her. The music cut out, and the room went dark. Anna froze, her heart racing—she knew exactly who had come to visit her.

She didn't dare turn around, feeling warm breath on the back of her neck.

"Did you find out?" a voice asked, low and close, towering over her.

Anna swallowed, her throat tight.

"Is he the same?" the person asked again, calm and deliberate, each word precise. Anna, taking in the question, slowly shook her head.

"No…at least," she hesitated before continuing, "I don't think so." As soon as the words left her mouth, a loud crash echoed through the room. Anna flinched as wooden splinters flew everywhere.

"Augh," the figure growled in frustration as a table was flung across the room, smashing into the kitchen wall.

Shaken, Anna slowly began to turn around, but before she could, a hand gripped her head, stopping her.

"No," he commanded, preventing her from looking at him.

Anna felt his hand holding her in place. Slowly, she raised her own hand, placing it over his in a gesture of unexpected affection.

"I…I'll find out," she stammered, her heart pounding against her chest.

"Hm," he murmured, caressing her head gently. Leaning closer, he placed a kiss on her head. "Good," he whispered.

Then, just as suddenly as he'd arrived, a gust of wind swept through the room. The lights flickered back on, and the soft jazz resumed, filling the space once more.

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The window creaked open, and a sudden swarm of bats swooped into the lab-like room, swirling together until they coalesced into the figure of a young man.

It was Nate.

Two days had passed since he took the hair sample from the carcass, and he'd been hesitating to analyze it. If his suspicions were true, it would mean that everything he believed about his father's death was a lie.

Tonight, after Bella and Charlie had fallen asleep, Nate snuck out of the house to the one place in Forks he knew had a lab capable of testing DNA: Forks Hospital.

"This will do," Nate murmured, scanning the equipment in the room.

As he moved around, examining the machines, he made a mental note to stay alert. Forks Hospital might be small enough that the lab didn't have a night staff, but it still buzzed with activity. Larger hospitals, like the one in Port Angeles, would have staff working around the clock—he knew, because he'd once worked as a hematologist himself.

Pulling out the vial with the hair sample, Nate got to work. He retrieved a DNA extraction kit and isolated the hair follicle, then began processing the sample. He placed the processed DNA into the PCR machine to amplify it but before he activated it, he made sure to take out another vile that had red liqiud in it and place it in the machine as well.

This was nates blood, he needed his blood amplyfied as well if he was going to compare the two DNA samples.

So starting the machine, Nate looked at the machine that whirled to life.

Then he heard it—the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

Focusing, Nate picked up the scent of chemicals, something stale, and the jingle of keys. Wheels squeaked against the floor.

A janitor.

Panicking, Nate glanced around for a hiding spot. The PCR machine was still far from finishing, and if he was caught, his secret would be out. When he heard the keys rattling in the lock, he made a quick decision, leaping up and embedding his fingers into the ceiling tiles, propping himself up above the room.

From his perch, Nate watched as the janitor, thankfully wearing earphones, began mopping the lab. Nate's pulse quickened. The machine's timer was counting down, and he could see it inching closer to zero.

If the machine finished before the janitor left, its loud beep would give him away. Nate's heart pounded as the timer ticked down, feeling as if it might burst from his chest.

Finally, the janitor wrapped up, gathering his supplies and rolling his cart toward the door. As soon as he stepped out, Nate dropped to the floor, rushing to the machine with only one second left on the clock. Just as it hit zero, he yanked the plug to stop the alarm from sounding.

He let out a relieved sigh as he listened to the janitor's footsteps receding down the hall.

Looking at the machine that had the now-finished samples, Nate opened it and retrieved the two Viles.

"Well then, this is it," he thought, walking toward the machine that would finally provide the answers, placing the two different vials that hopefully contained similar DNA.

As Nate stood there, watching the hourglass on the machine's screen repeatedly flip, a pit formed in his stomach. He hoped with all his heart that he was wrong, because if his suspicions were true, it would mean his father—the man he cried for most nights when his mom came home battered and shot up—was alive and well.

But that would also mean he hadn't come to see Nate all these years, and Nate didn't know what that meant.

When the machine beeped, Nate's heart sank as he looked at the screen.

"0%," he muttered aloud, in disbelief.

You see, human DNA is typically tested for a 99.9% match, because all humans share the same genes. However, specific genes—like the ones Nate was testing—are only present in closely related individuals. So if two people who were not related in any way were tested, the result would be a 0% match.

This meant that Nate was right: the carcass he had taken the sample from was not his father.

"H...he...he's alive," he whispered, stepping back, his legs almost giving out beneath him.

"Wh...what?" He said again, holding his head, feeling dizzy and disoriented.

"Why?"

"How?"

These were the thoughts racing through Nate's mind as he approached the machine and pressed "Print," hearing the printer whir to life in the distance. But he didn't bother to look toward it.

Nate, now certain his father wasn't dead, was overwhelmed with questions, but the one thing he couldn't shake was the way this whole endeavor had started.

Anna.

It was because of her... her inconsistent story. How could she not know how his father died? More importantly, how could she not know how her husband's best friend died?

These questions flooded his mind, and as he thought, his senses failed him. He didn't hear the approach of the other person with jingling keys until it was too late.

The unmistakable sound of keys turning the door handle sent Nate into motion. Without thinking, he quickly grabbed the vials and erased the test results from the machine. Then, he rushed to the printer, snatched the paper, and in an instant, exploded into a swarm of bats, disappearing through the same window he had entered from.

The security guard, opening the door just as Nate flew out, was momentarily blinded by the gust of wind Nate had created. He stood frozen, confused, as the wind died down.

Slowly, the guard opened his eyes, his face creased in confusion, before he saw the broken vial on the floor and the open window.

The unmistakable signs of a break-in.

Reaching for his radio, the guard spoke into it with urgency.

"Code 4, I repeat, Code 4."

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It was the next day.

Nate sat in the shed, frozen in place, not having moved a muscle for hours. He was deep in thought, replaying everything he had discovered so far, going over every detail to piece together why his father had fabricated his own death—or if it was even his father who had done it.

Something was going on, something bigger than he could grasp, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

But all of it boiled down to one thing.

His vampirism.

His father had done something no human had ever attempted. Because of that, he had created something humanity thought impossible, which led to the discovery of an already existing vampire race.

Was that the reason? Nate wondered, tapping his finger on the table where his closed laptop lay.

Was his father being threatened by these other vampires... the Cold Ones?

Could that be why his father faked his death? But if that were true, it didn't make sense. How was he still alive? What little Nate had heard from Sam and the pack, along with the videos his father had left behind, painted these vampires as evil incarnate. If they were so evil, wouldn't they have killed him if they had discovered what his father was doing to him?

Nate tried to think of every angle but failed to come up with a solid reason for his father's actions. Yet one question loomed in the back of his mind, refusing to surface because of fear and apprehension: Where was his father?

As Nate pondered this, his ears picked up movement from inside the house. His uncle and cousin were awake.

Glancing at the clock, Nate raised his brows in surprise. It was 7:05. He had been sitting in the same spot for five hours straight.

Shaking his head to clear the jumbled thoughts, he stood up and made his way toward the main house, trying to compose himself and erase the shock from his face.

Stepping into the kitchen through the back door, he found Bella pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her head was still bandaged from when Nate had stitched her up after the accident the other day.

Charlie, like any normal parent, had questions, but Bella—clumsy as always—had made up a flimsy excuse about falling and hitting her head. To Nate, it was the most half-baked lie he'd ever heard. Yet whether it was because Charlie had a soft spot for Bella or because he was used to her antics, he didn't dig deeper. Still, the look he gave Nate suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

"What's up?" Bella asked, raising an eyebrow as she saw Nate enter the kitchen. She was already used to him being awake before anyone else and was beginning to suspect he didn't sleep at all.

If she only knew.

Nate took the cup from Bella's hand and rinsed it thoroughly before pouring her some fresh coffee.

"Feeling restless," he said, nodding toward the shed as he handed her the cup. "Thought maybe some work would help."

Bella thanked him, taking a sip of her coffee. Together, they walked into the living room, where Charlie sat in full sheriff uniform, watching the news. A coffee cup and an empty plate with crumbs sat on the table beside him.

Nate frowned as he caught sight of the headline on the TV screen:

BREAK-IN AT FORKS HOSPITAL

"Last night, under the cover of darkness, the hospital's lab was broken into. Authorities are working to determine if anything was stolen, but so far, nothing appears to be missing. The account given by the guard—"

"The hospital?" Bella said, taking a seat on the lone couch. Nate approached casually, his face calm despite the knot forming in his stomach. He was confident he hadn't left any evidence that could link the break-in to him. He had taken care to avoid the cameras while in his bat form.

Charlie greeted them both with a nod. "Yeah, I'm actually heading over there now," he said, taking another sip of his coffee as he watched the screen.

The janitor from the lab appeared on the news, recounting the events of the night.

"Why would the sheriff go to a small break-in?" Nate asked lightly, feigning disinterest while carefully gauging Charlie's response.

"Well, it's a formality," Charlie replied. "I have to review the reports the deputies filed and make sure everything's in order. Besides, if nothing was stolen, it'll be a case closed soon enough."

Charlie stood, downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp. "Anyway, I'm off, kids," he said, heading toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back to look at Nate and Bella, who sat awkwardly on their respective couches.

With a small nod, he stepped out, leaving them to their own devices.

Nate, lost in thought, didn't notice Bella's inquisitive gaze until she exaggeratedly cleared her throat.

"What is it?" he asked, his tone wary. Bella was looking at him with an unreadable glint in her eye, making him, already on edge, feel even more nervous.

"Did you do it?" she asked, her question catching Nate completely off guard. Do what?

Nate stared at her, unsure of how to respond, his face inadvertently betraying a guilty look that screamed, I'm caught.

"Did you write a new song?" she clarified, and Nate exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples in relief.

"You've been on a streak lately, and it's already been a couple of days since your last one," Bella said casually, her voice light with curiosity.

Nate chuckled at himself, shaking his head. "Yes—or, well, no. Not yet."

Bella perked up at the "yes" but deflated as he finished with "not yet."

Seeing her reaction, Nate thought back to his latest song idea. He already had a concept in mind, so to placate her, he added, "It's not ready yet, but I've got an idea."

Bella's face lit up. "Good. Can't wait to hear it," she said, heading toward the rack to grab her backpack. Nate watched her, confused.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she opened the front door.

Bella glanced back at him as if he'd grown another head. "School?" she said, the answer so obvious it made Nate feel foolish.

Realization dawned, and he slapped his forehead. "Monday."

Bella nodded, smirking. "Yeah. Oh, and don't forget tonight, okay? Be ready by 6 p.m. The movie starts at 6:45."

She stepped out the door, leaving Nate alone with his thoughts once again.

His mind drifted back to the events of the previous night. Just as his thoughts were about to spiral, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from Sam:

"Pack meeting now."

"Good timing," Nate muttered, grabbing his jacket as he left the house.

Glancing at his car for a moment, he decided against driving. Instead, he jogged toward the forest, his pace quickly accelerating until he was sprinting at lightning-fast speed. He covered half the distance to La Push in just under two minutes.

When he entered La Push—and, subsequently, Quileute territory—Nate's enhanced senses picked up irregular sounds: a growl and rapid, heavy footsteps.

Adjusting his course toward the noise, he spotted Paul in his wolf form charging at full speed after a vampire with dreadlocks.

"What the hell?" Nate thought, his eyes narrowing as he ran directly in front of the vampire. Intercepting him, Nate grabbed the vampire's face mid-sprint and slammed him into the ground with enough force to crater the earth beneath them.

The first thing Nate noticed was the vampire's porcelain-like skin, unnaturally cold to the touch—almost icy.

"Ugh!" the dreadlocked vampire grunted, clearly caught off guard. Nate, his face now unconsciously shifting into its vampiric form, locked eyes with him.

Surprised by how easily he had overpowered the Cold One, Nate wasn't prepared for the counterattack. A sharp kick connected with his stomach, sending him flying. Twisting mid-air, Nate's body seemed to slow unnaturally, his movements graceful as he landed amidst the trees.

Standing, he glared at the vampire, who now looked equally intrigued and shocked.

Before Nate could lunge again, Paul pounced from behind. His massive wolf form was inches from sinking his teeth into the vampire's neck when the Cold One twisted unnaturally, causing Paul to miss. A devastating blow to Paul's ribs sent the wolf flying through the air, colliding with a tree with a sickening crack.

A pained whine escaped Paul as he crumpled to the ground.

"Paul!" Nate shouted, rushing to his side. Assessing the injuries, he noted that Paul, now shifted back into his human form, lay naked on the forest floor. His dislocated shoulder was already beginning to heal, slowly sliding back into place.

Satisfied that Paul wasn't in immediate danger, Nate turned back toward the vampire—only to find him gone.

Activating his echolocation just in time, Nate caught a faint trace of the Cold One retreating into the distance.

"Tch… crap," Nate muttered in frustration, glaring in the direction the vampire had fled. Looking back at Paul, who was still unconscious but healing rapidly, Nate felt a mixture of annoyance and intrigue.

"So that was a Cold One," he muttered to himself, glancing at the spot where he had pinned the vampire moments ago.

"Weak," he said dismissively before crouching down to lift Paul. Careful not to aggravate his injuries, Nate carried him toward the pack house.

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Hey everyone! As promised, things are starting to pick up!

Apologies for the chapter delay—real life has been pretty hectic lately. It's been nonstop work, work, work, and honestly, it's exhausting. But don't worry! Writing this story is something I truly love, so you can always count on a chapter dropping (even if it's a bit late).

As always, I'd love to hear your constructive criticism.

What did you think of this chapter? Who do you think the mysterious guy was? Why would Nate's father fake his death—and where is he now?

So many questions, but no answers… yet. Stay tuned for the next chapter of Twilight: Blood is Calling!