VELAD :
I leaned back in the jet seat, gripping the armrests tightly. My gaze was fixed on the window, but my mind was a storm. Twilight… Why did Michael have to go to Forks? Why waste his time there?
If he wanted to go, he should have told me… I thought we were close… but now? I was furious, like a fire that could consume everything at any moment.
I sighed and tried to think rationally, but my mind spun in endless cycles of speculation: Maybe he had a few reasons… the Cullens… the werewolves… maybe he felt both. No, no… that's impossible.
My brows knitted tightly, and an unbearable pressure of anger rose in my chest. Michael… why can't I understand you? Why can't you act logically just once?
Yet at the same time, my heart ached. Why would he throw himself into so much danger? If the Volturi find out he's not in Romania, they'll try to hunt him down… Of course, Michael could kill them all, but he could still get hurt.
Twilight, the Cullens, Bella… all of it is dangerous. Even if he doesn't realize it, I can't stand by idly.
A story of a vampire family and a human girl… a toxic relationship between them… What was so appealing that made you leave Romania? Bella… that girl and Edward weren't even a real pair… Edward was only interested in her blood… in the scent, the intense, terrifying aura it gave off!
I scratched the armrest. I had raised that child myself; I still remember how she used to sleep beside me until she was twelve. I was her stepfather, and she still hides some things from me. The thought that she might get hurt was driving me insane.
I wanted to let him walk this path alone… but I still couldn't.
The human steward spoke calmly: "Sir Count, we've arrived in Washington. We'll be landing shortly."
I leaned back and took a deep breath. I'd been in Romania for over two thousand years… with wealth and power no human could even imagine.
One of my finest achievements? Establishing the Count family in the 18th century… aristocrats favored by the King of Romania… every century, with a new name, I became the head, and no one suspected a thing… And now I see Michael putting himself directly in danger, and I… I have to stop him.
Two hours after the jet touched down, I reached Forks.
After a long journey, I finally set foot in the state that always smelled of damp earth and wet forests. I changed clothes immediately at home; black pants, a white button-up shirt. Neat, formal.
I bought the house in minutes. One call, and money really does make things move fast.
It was easier than I thought. Now I was on my way to Forks High School—the place where I knew the real trouble would begin.
Entering the administration office, Ms. Simra, a woman in her forties with brown hair and eyes, stood up with a warm smile.
"Mr. Count, I honestly didn't expect someone with your background to want to teach history at our school."
I gave a short smile. "I was lucky the history position was vacant. Anyway… it's all because of my nephew."
She said excitedly, "I've checked your record. You're truly a successful professor."
A record that didn't exist. The documents were fake, but flawless enough that even the Romanian Ministry of Education couldn't find fault.
"I emailed your class schedule. Have you seen it?"
"Yes, I've reviewed it. And now I need to get ready for my first class."
I left the office and walked to my first classroom. The students were already seated. I placed my book on the desk and leaned against the edge.
"I'm Vlad Count, your new history teacher. Any questions?"
The classroom smelled of humans… but beneath it, two familiar scents were unmistakable: vampires. One tall, one petite, with short black hair and large eyes.
My gaze fixed on her. For a moment… locked. Her brows rose in surprise.
She raised her hand slowly.
"If you have a question, ask."
In a soft, overly curious voice, she said, "Teacher… where are you from? And how old are you?"
Something in her tone was off, but I answered quickly: "Romania. Forty-one years old."
From the back, a human girl whispered to her friend, "I thought he was thirty. He's so handsome…"
I continued, ignoring them: "I'll be testing you at the end of every month. I hope your grades are acceptable."
I opened the book and flipped to the first section. "Today's lesson is about the French and Russian wars, during Napoleon's reign."
I looked up and met the girl's gaze again. Why was she staring at me so intently? And why did my eyes keep finding hers?
"Before we begin, does anyone know anything about this?"
An hour passed and the bell rang. The students left, but that girl approached me and stood right in front.
"Mr. Count, I'm Alice. Alice Cullen."
The prophetic vampire! Her appearance matched every description perfectly. I only nodded, but she stood still and smiled broadly.
"Well… Teacher, I'm really bad at history. Do you offer private lessons?"
Bad at history? A vampire over a hundred years old, who for some unknown reason repeatedly enrolled in high school… yet she claimed she hadn't read the book?
"I'm sorry, Ms. Cullen. If you're weak in history, you need to study more."
I stood from the desk and finally noticed how small she was. Around 160 cm. Next to me at 190 cm, she almost disappeared.
Energetically, she said, "But I really can't understand it alone. I hope you can help me."
I sensed she wanted something. Alice Cullen… what are you after?
"If you insist, I can dedicate part of school time to help you."
I stepped to leave, but she suddenly blocked my way, and her hand brushed mine.
A sudden shock ran through my bones. Electric—yes, exactly like electricity—spread through my entire body. I instinctively stepped back.
What was this? First time I'd ever felt this! Could she have powers beyond prophecy?
She raised her hands. "Sorry, Teacher… I just… wanted to ask if you could come teach at our house? I can't stay at school long."
You want to play? Fine. I can play too.
"Alright."
I walked past her, but my mind remained unsettled. This… is complete chaos.
A little later, I headed to the cafeteria. I hadn't even taken a step inside when I sensed him… Michael. I recognize his energy pulse better than anyone else's.
My eyes fixed on a table.
He was sitting there, between two girls and three boys. Trying to act normal. But his face… no, that calmness was fake.
When he turned his head and our eyes locked, a rush of heat surged through my veins. Anger? Yes. But beneath that anger, a subtle tremor of worry… damn it.
Michael stood up immediately.
The brown-haired girl next to him asked,
"What's wrong, Michael?"
He replied quickly, carefully:
"Nothing, Isabella. I'll be back in a moment."
Isabella…
Isabella Swan.
Huh. Just the one whose presence I dislike.
Michael… what exactly are you doing?
I stepped away from the cafeteria and leaned against the wall.
Not out of fatigue… but to hold my anger from exploding.
Michael approached with fast steps.
His eyes were full of surprise, but not enough to hide his worry.
"What are you doing here?"
His tone was calm, but anxiety rippled beneath it.
I wasn't calm either.
In a low but cutting voice, I said:
"Why did you leave Romania without telling me?"
He went silent.
Lowered his head.
The same old move… hiding something. Over a thousand years old, yet he hasn't let go of the habits he had as a child.
I said calmly but firmly:
"Look at me, Michael."
He raised his head. His gaze wavered slightly.
"Why did you come here?"
His hands slipped into his pockets.
"It's complicated…"
A ridiculous answer. Not what I wanted to hear.
The answer of someone scared to tell the truth. Michael, what are you afraid of?
In a controlled voice, I said:
"I'll give you time. But eventually… you have to tell me everything."
I don't know why I said it softer. Maybe because worry gnawed at me like a parasite.
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"I came here for you."
His gaze shifted.
"And you have one year to finish your work here. After that, we return to Romania."
"What do you mean?"
His surprise was genuine.
"I'm the history teacher at this school for a year."
I looked him directly in the eyes.
"So this year, we're together. After that, we go back."
He nodded hesitantly.
"You did everything so fast… my registration… now you're a teacher?"
A small smirk appeared on my lips.
"That means you still don't know me."
I pulled a key from my pocket and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"The key to our new house. Third Street, number 10. You go there. I have two more classes."
"No need, I'll wait. We'll go back together."