As the timer continued its steady countdown, the kitchen had settled into that comfortable rhythm that marked successful cooking sessions—the curry bubbling gently, aromatic steam rising from the pan, and the satisfaction of a dish developing exactly as intended. Veer wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and surveyed the scene with the kind of quiet pride that came from teaching someone new skills while feeding people you cared about.
"Fifteen more minutes," he announced, checking the consistency of the sauce. "Which gives us just enough time to get the rice started."
Eleanor perked up from her position on the counter. "You're making rice too? From scratch?"
"Is there another way to make rice?" Veer asked with genuine curiosity, moving to the cabinet where Charlie kept his cooking equipment.
"Minute rice," Bella suggested helpfully. "Or those microwaveable packets."
Veer paused in his search through Charlie's surprisingly well-stocked cookware, turning to stare at his cousin with an expression of mild horror. "Bella. No. Just... no. We are not serving proper curry with instant rice. That would be like... like serving fine wine in a coffee mug."
"Some people drink wine from coffee mugs," Charlie pointed out with amusement.
"Those people have given up on civilization," Veer replied firmly, pulling out a heavy-bottomed pot. "We're going to make proper rice. Basmati rice, specifically. Long grain, aromatic, with just the right texture to complement the curry."
Jessamyn was watching his domestic efficiency with what appeared to be fascinated attention. "You really take your cooking seriously, don't you sugar?"
"Food is one of the fundamental ways people show care for each other," Veer said, measuring rice with practiced precision. "If you're going to do something, you might as well do it properly."
He rinsed the rice in cold water, watching the starch wash away until the water ran clear. The process was methodical, meditative, and gave him time to process the undercurrents of the evening—the nomad vampire threat that Charlie was investigating as animal attacks, the three supernatural beauties who were maintaining polite interest in culinary processes they couldn't actually consume, and the growing certainty that his new life in Forks was operating on multiple levels of complexity simultaneously.
"The key to good rice," he explained as he added the drained grains to the pot with the precise ratio of water, salt, and oil, "is understanding that it's not just a side dish. It's the foundation that everything else builds on. Too mushy, and it can't hold up the sauce. Too dry, and it won't absorb the flavors properly."
Eleanor was leaning forward with obvious fascination, though Veer's enhanced senses caught the subtle way her attention kept drifting toward the windows, as if she were monitoring the darkening forest beyond the house. "It's amazing how much science is involved in something as simple as cooking rice."
"Nothing about proper cooking is simple," Edythe observed with refined precision. "It's all about understanding relationships—how different elements interact, how timing affects outcomes, how small variations can produce dramatically different results."
The way she emphasized 'relationships' made Veer glance up from his rice preparation, meeting her golden eyes with a look that acknowledged the layered meaning in her statement.
"Exactly," he agreed, bringing the rice to a boil before reducing the heat to its lowest setting. "Some combinations require very specific conditions to work properly. The right timing, the right temperature, the right... environment."
Jessamyn's honey drawl carried undertones of amusement. "And some combinations are just naturally compatible, regardless of how... unusual... they might seem to outside observers."
As the rice settled into its gentle simmer, Veer found himself hyperaware of the domestic intimacy of the scene. Charlie was genuinely relaxed, enjoying his coffee revelation and the novel experience of watching his kitchen be used for actual cooking. Bella was learning new skills with the focused attention that made her such a good student. And the three Cullen sisters were maintaining their polite fascination while conducting what amounted to supernatural threat assessment through casual conversation about food preparation.
It was normal and completely surreal at the same time.
"Veer," Eleanor said suddenly, her voice carrying a note of what sounded like inspiration, "would it be terribly inappropriate if we took some pictures? Of the food, I mean?"
"Pictures?" Bella looked up from where she'd been cleaning the cutting boards. "Of dinner?"
"It's just," Eleanor continued with growing enthusiasm, "we so rarely get to see proper home cooking. I mean, our family's dietary situation means we don't really... participate... in traditional meal preparation. This is like getting to observe an art form we can only appreciate from the outside."
Edythe nodded with refined agreement. "It would be lovely to have some way to remember this. The colors, the presentation, the way everything comes together. For... posterity."
Jessamyn was already pulling out her phone, which looked like it probably cost more than most people's cars. "If you don't mind, sugar. We promise we won't be intrusive."
Veer looked around the kitchen—at the curry bubbling in its rich, golden-brown glory, at the rice steaming gently in its pot, at the array of spices and ingredients that had transformed Charlie's basic cooking space into something resembling a proper Indian kitchen.
"I don't mind," he said, genuinely touched by their interest. "Though I have to warn you, this is pretty much the extent of my photogenic cooking. Don't expect magazine-quality presentation."
"Are you kidding?" Eleanor was already circling the stovetop with her phone, capturing angles that would have made professional food photographers jealous. "Look at those colors! The way the sauce catches the light! This is gorgeous!"
What followed was possibly the most thorough food photography session in the history of Charlie Swan's kitchen. Eleanor approached the task with the enthusiasm of someone documenting a rare natural phenomenon, capturing close-ups of the curry's rich texture, the perfect individual grains of rice, the way the steam caught the overhead lighting.
Jessamyn focused on wider shots that showed the cooking process in context—the spice jars arranged on the counter, Veer's hands as he checked the consistency of the sauce, the domestic comfort of the scene with Charlie and Bella in the background.
Edythe took what could only be described as artistic photographs, finding angles and lighting that transformed simple home cooking into something that belonged in a culinary magazine. Her refined aesthetic sense was evident in every shot—the way she captured the golden hour light streaming through the kitchen window, the interplay of colors and textures, the human story implicit in shared meal preparation.
"This is actually really cool," Bella admitted, watching the sisters work with professional-level equipment and obviously practiced skill. "Are you guys into photography?"
"It's more of a... documentation hobby," Edythe explained diplomatically. "We like to preserve memories of... unique experiences."
"Especially experiences we can't exactly... recreate... under normal circumstances," Eleanor added with a grin that suggested multiple levels of meaning.
Charlie, meanwhile, was watching the entire photoshoot with the bemused expression of a man whose quiet evening had transformed into something resembling a cooking show production.
"You girls do this often?" he asked with gentle humor. "Show up at people's houses and document their dinner preparation?"
"Only when the cooking is exceptional," Jessamyn replied with perfect sincerity, her drawl warm with what sounded like genuine appreciation. "And when the chef is worth... remembering."
The way she said 'remembering' while looking directly at Veer made heat rise in his cheeks, though he tried to maintain his focus on the technical aspects of the cooking process.
"Alright," he announced, lifting the lid on the rice pot to check its progress, "rice is done. Let's see how everything turned out."
The rice had achieved that perfect state that marked proper preparation—individual grains that were tender but distinct, with just enough moisture to absorb flavors without becoming sticky. The curry had developed into a rich, complex sauce that coated the meat while maintaining enough body to stand up to the rice.
"Perfect timing," he said with satisfaction, turning off both burners and reaching for serving dishes from Charlie's cabinet.
What happened next was like watching a professional food styling session conducted by people with supernatural precision. The three sisters coordinated their documentation with the fluid efficiency of a practiced team—Eleanor capturing action shots as Veer plated the food, Jessamyn focusing on the final presentation, and Edythe taking what amounted to artistic portraits of the completed dishes.
"This is incredible," Eleanor said with obvious delight, photographing the way the curry's rich sauce pooled around the perfect mounds of basmati rice. "The presentation, the colors, the way everything complements everything else. You have a real gift for this."
"Just good basic technique," Veer protested, though he was pleased by their enthusiasm. "Anyone can learn to cook properly with enough practice."
"Sugar," Jessamyn said with that honey drawl that made everything sound like intimate conversation, "not everyone has the kind of... natural instincts... that make this look effortless. Trust me on that."
As the photography session wound down and the sisters put away their phones, Charlie surveyed the perfectly plated dinner with obvious appreciation.
"Well," he said, "I have to admit, this looks about ten times better than anything I've ever managed to produce in this kitchen. You kids sure you won't stay and try some? Seems like a shame to let you leave without tasting what you spent so much time documenting."
The invitation was clearly heartfelt, and Veer watched with interest as the three sisters exchanged the kind of quick, wordless communication that marked supernatural beings coordinating their response to social situations.
"That's incredibly kind of you, Chief Swan," Edythe replied with perfect politeness, "but I'm afraid we have very specific dietary restrictions. Medical condition that requires us to be extremely careful about what we consume."
"Very specific," Eleanor agreed, her enthusiasm dimming slightly as she addressed the practical reality of their situation. "We're limited to a pretty narrow range of... approved... foods. It's actually part of why we find cooking so fascinating—we get to appreciate the artistry and technique without being able to... participate... in the traditional way."
Jessamyn's expression carried what looked like genuine regret. "It's one of those genetic conditions that runs in families, unfortunately. We can enjoy the aromas, the visual presentation, the social aspects of shared meals, but the actual consumption part... well, let's just say it doesn't end well for anyone involved."
Charlie's professional experience with various human complications immediately shifted him into sympathetic understanding mode. "I'm sorry to hear that. Must be frustrating, especially with something that smells as good as this."
"Oh, we've learned to appreciate food in other ways," Eleanor said with determinedly cheerful resilience. "Cooking shows, restaurant visits for the atmosphere, friends who don't mind us living vicariously through their culinary adventures."
"Which is part of why tonight was so special," Edythe added with refined sincerity. "Getting to observe proper technique from start to finish, seeing how someone who really knows what they're doing approaches the entire process. It's educational in a way that's... personally meaningful... for people in our situation."
Bella was looking at the three sisters with the kind of genuine sympathy that marked her capacity for empathy with other people's difficulties. "That must be really hard. Food is such a big part of social connection."
"It can be challenging," Jessamyn agreed, her drawl warm with appreciation for Bella's understanding. "But you learn to find connection in other ways. Shared experiences, mutual interests, the kind of relationships that go deeper than what you can... consume... together."
The loaded way she delivered that last comment made Veer wonder exactly how many layers of meaning were packed into the sisters' explanation of their 'dietary restrictions.'
"Well," he said, recognizing that the evening was winding toward its natural conclusion, "I'm glad we could provide some... vicarious... culinary entertainment. Though I have to say, your photography skills turned this into something much more special than just dinner preparation."
"The pleasure was definitely ours," Eleanor said with obvious sincerity. "This was exactly the kind of... unique experience... we were hoping for when we decided to get to know you better."
As the sisters began gathering their things—phones, keys, and what appeared to be coordinated preparation for departure—the kitchen took on that slightly melancholy atmosphere that marked the end of unexpectedly pleasant social gatherings.
"Same time tomorrow for lunch?" Edythe asked, her refined politeness carrying undertones of genuine invitation.
"Absolutely," Veer replied, meaning every word. "Though I should probably warn you that cafeteria food is going to be a significant step down from home cooking."
"Oh, we're not worried about the food quality," Jessamyn said with a drawl that suggested multiple levels of amusement. "We're more interested in the... company."
Eleanor bounced toward him with that infectious energy, her compact frame radiating the kind of enthusiasm that made everyone around her feel more alive. "Thank you for letting us invade your kitchen and turn dinner into a photoshoot. This was exactly what we needed tonight."
Before Veer could respond, Eleanor rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek—light, affectionate, and carrying the kind of warmth that suggested genuine fondness rather than mere politeness.
The moment her lips made contact with his skin, several things registered simultaneously in Veer's supernatural awareness. Her lips were cool—not unpleasantly so, but with the distinct temperature difference that marked vampire physiology. The texture was softer than he'd expected, though there was an underlying firmness that spoke of the diamond-hard skin that defined her species.
But what surprised him most was that her touch didn't feel uncomfortably cold against his enhanced body temperature. If anything, the contrast was pleasant—like stepping into air conditioning after summer heat, refreshing rather than shocking.
"Eleanor," Edythe said with fond exasperation, though she was smiling as she approached for her own farewell.
"What?" Eleanor replied with cheerful defiance. "It's a perfectly normal way to thank someone for a lovely evening."
Edythe's kiss was more restrained, delivered with the refined courtesy that marked all her social interactions, but no less warm for its formality. Her lips carried the same cool temperature and surprising softness, though Veer noticed that she lingered just a moment longer than strictly necessary for a casual goodbye.
"Thank you for a truly educational evening," she said quietly, her refined voice carrying depths of meaning that had nothing to do with cooking techniques.
Jessamyn approached last, her honey-blonde hair catching the kitchen light and her golden eyes sparkling with what looked like anticipation mixed with something deeper.
"Well, sugar," she said, her drawl warm with affection and promise, "this has been just about the most interesting first day anyone could ask for."
Her kiss landed at the corner of his mouth, technically still a cheek kiss but positioned with the kind of precision that suggested deliberate calculation. The cool softness of her lips carried an electric quality that made Veer's enhanced nervous system respond with something approaching supernatural appreciation.
When she pulled back, her expression held the kind of satisfied amusement that suggested she'd gotten exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for.
"Sweet dreams, darlin'," she added quietly, her voice pitched just low enough that Charlie and Bella wouldn't catch it. "Tomorrow's going to be very interesting."
As the three sisters moved toward the front door with their characteristic fluid grace, leaving behind the lingering scents of jasmine, vanilla, and wild places, Charlie watched their departure with the expression of a man processing multiple unusual observations.
"Well," he said once the sound of car doors and departing engines had faded into the evening quiet, "that was... educational."
"They're really nice," Bella said, beginning to clear the photography equipment the sisters had left scattered around the kitchen. "I can't believe they spent the entire evening watching us cook something they couldn't even eat. That was incredibly sweet of them."
"Mmm," Charlie agreed, though his attention was focused on Veer with the kind of assessing look that suggested paternal observation of unusual social dynamics. "Veer, son, I knew you had a way with people, but I have to admit I'm impressed. Three of the most beautiful girls in town, all competing to give you goodbye kisses? That's... that's not exactly normal teenage social behavior."
Heat flooded Veer's cheeks as he realized Charlie had been paying much closer attention to the farewell ritual than he'd expected. "They were just being friendly, Uncle Charlie. Thanking me for the cooking demonstration."
"Uh-huh," Charlie replied with the tone of someone who'd observed enough human behavior to recognize romantic interest when he saw it. "And I suppose the group texting, the coordinated arrival, and the professional-level food photography were also just... friendly appreciation for culinary education?"
Bella looked up from her cleaning with growing interest. "Wait, are you saying you think all three of them are interested in Veer? Like, romantically interested?"
"I'm saying," Charlie replied with the careful precision of someone choosing his words diplomatically, "that your cousin appears to have made quite an impression on some very... enthusiastic... admirers. Though I have to admit, the whole situation is a little unusual."
"Unusual how?" Veer asked, though he suspected he knew where this conversation was heading.
Charlie was quiet for a moment, clearly organizing his thoughts. "Look, son, I've been around long enough to recognize when someone's popular with the ladies. That's normal, healthy, nothing wrong with it. But three sisters, all from the same family, all clearly interested in the same boy? That's... well, that's the kind of situation that usually ends with someone getting their feelings hurt."
"Or," Bella added with growing amusement, "with someone accidentally ending up in the world's most complicated love triangle."
"Love triangle?" Charlie's expression shifted to something approaching alarm. "Try love... what's the word for when there are more than three people involved?"
"Polygon?" Bella suggested helpfully.
"I was thinking more like... harem," Charlie said with the tone of a man who couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation with his teenage nephew.
The word 'harem' hit the kitchen like a verbal brick, producing immediate and varied reactions. Bella burst into laughter. Veer felt his face achieve what was probably a record-breaking level of heat. And Charlie looked like a man who'd just realized he'd accidentally stumbled into giving relationship advice about a situation that definitely hadn't been covered in any parenting manual.
"Uncle Charlie," Veer protested weakly, "it's not a harem. We literally just met today. They're being friendly."
"Son," Charlie replied with the patient tone of someone explaining obvious concepts, "I've been married, divorced, and spent twenty years in law enforcement observing human behavior. I know the difference between 'friendly' and 'marking territory.' And those girls? They were definitely marking territory."
"Marking territory?" Bella was wiping tears from her eyes, clearly enjoying Veer's mortification. "What, like wolves?"
"Like women who've found something they want and aren't planning to let anyone else have it," Charlie corrected with surprising insight. "The coordinated arrival, the way they positioned themselves around the kitchen, the group texting, the photography session that gave them an excuse to stay longer? That was strategy, not socializing."
Veer stared at his uncle with growing respect for his observational skills. Charlie might not know about vampires, divine powers, or cosmic destiny, but his assessment of the sisters' behavior was disturbingly accurate.
"And the goodbye kisses?" Charlie continued relentlessly, "That was establishing claims. Making sure anyone who might be watching understood exactly who had... access... to your attention."
"Oh my god," Bella said, her laughter taking on a slightly hysterical quality. "Veer, you've been in Forks for exactly one day, and you've already accidentally collected a supernatural harem."
"It's not—" Veer started, then stopped as he realized that 'supernatural harem' was actually a pretty accurate description of what appeared to be developing around him. "They're just... very friendly people."
"Very friendly, very beautiful, very coordinated people," Charlie agreed. "Who all seem to have reached the same conclusion about your... desirability... simultaneously. Which, I have to admit, is either the best luck or the worst luck any teenage boy could ask for."
"Why worst luck?" Bella asked with curiosity.
Charlie's expression grew serious, shifting from amused observation to genuine paternal concern. "Because situations like this tend to get complicated fast. Feelings get hurt, friendships get damaged, and someone usually ends up having to make choices that leave other people disappointed."
"Unless," Bella said thoughtfully, "everyone involved is mature enough to handle an... unconventional... arrangement. I mean, they're sisters. If anyone could navigate a complicated romantic situation without destroying their family relationships, it would be people who've been dealing with each other their whole lives."
The casual way Bella suggested that three sisters might be capable of sharing romantic interest in the same person made both Charlie and Veer stare at her with expressions of mild shock.
"Bella," Charlie said carefully, "are you suggesting that some kind of... group... arrangement might actually work?"
"I'm suggesting," Bella replied with the logical precision that made her good at academic analysis, "that the Cullen sisters don't seem like the type of people who would accidentally create a problem they hadn't already figured out how to solve. If they're all interested in Veer, they've probably already discussed how to handle that situation."
Veer felt his phone buzz with a text notification, and despite his better judgment, he checked it.
Group chat - Jessamyn, Eleanor, Edythe: "Hope we didn't overwhelm you too much tonight, darlin'. Sweet dreams from all of us. 😘"
The message was accompanied by one of Eleanor's photographs—a beautifully composed shot of the finished curry, with perfect lighting and artistic framing that made the simple home-cooked meal look like something from a professional food magazine.
"Oh no," Charlie said, noticing Veer's expression as he read the message. "They're already following up. That's... that's advanced romantic strategy right there."
"Advanced romantic strategy?" Bella asked, reading over Veer's shoulder. "It's a goodnight text with a pretty picture of dinner."
"From all three of them," Charlie pointed out. "Coordinated, collective communication that reinforces the group dynamic while maintaining individual connection. These girls have thought this through."
As Veer stared at his phone, processing the implications of receiving coordinated romantic attention from three supernatural beings who apparently came with cosmic approval, he realized that Charlie's assessment was probably more accurate than he'd wanted to admit.
The Cullen sisters weren't just individually interested in him. They were collectively interested in him, and they'd been planning their approach with the kind of strategic coordination that suggested they'd discussed the situation thoroughly among themselves.
"Well," he said finally, pocketing his phone and trying to inject some normalcy back into the conversation, "I suppose we'll see how it develops. In the meantime, we should probably eat this curry before it gets cold."
"Good plan," Charlie agreed, though his expression suggested he would be keeping a very close eye on his nephew's developing social situation. "But Veer? Promise me you'll be careful. Situations like this can get... intense... pretty quickly."
"I promise, Uncle Charlie," Veer replied, meaning it even as he wondered exactly what he was promising to be careful about.
As they settled down to enjoy the dinner that had started as a simple cooking lesson and evolved into the foundation of what Charlie had accurately identified as the world's most polite territorial negotiation, Veer reflected that his first day in Forks had exceeded his wildest expectations in ways he never could have predicted.
Behind them, his phone continued buzzing with notifications from the group chat, promising an evening of conversation that would probably be both more interesting and more complicated than simple recipe discussion.
But one crisis at a time. First, enjoy dinner with family and pretend that 'harem' wasn't actually an accurate description of what appeared to be developing around him.
Then figure out how to navigate romantic destiny involving three vampire sisters, nomad threats, and the growing certainty that normal teenage problems were officially a thing of the past.
The curry, at least, had turned out perfectly.
Which was probably the only uncomplicated success he was going to achieve for the foreseeable future.
—
By eleven PM, the Swan house had settled into its quiet evening rhythm. Charlie had retreated to his recliner with a beer and what appeared to be a fishing magazine, though Veer's enhanced hearing caught the occasional sounds of channel surfing that suggested his uncle wasn't entirely focused on articles about fly-fishing techniques. Bella had disappeared into her room with a stack of books and the determined expression of someone planning to get ahead on homework for classes she'd only attended for one day.
The dinner dishes were clean, the kitchen restored to its pre-cooking state, and the lingering aromas of properly prepared Indian food had faded into a comfortable background scent that made the house feel more like home than it had since their arrival.
Veer climbed the stairs to his room, his mind already shifting from domestic tranquility to the more complex considerations that would govern the next few hours. Through his bedroom window, the Olympic National Forest stretched endlessly under a cloudy night sky, dark and inviting and potentially dangerous in ways that Charlie's "animal attack" briefings had only hinted at.
Closing his door with careful quiet, Veer began what was becoming his pre-transformation routine. The first consideration was clothing—or more specifically, what little clothing might survive the process of shifting from human form to divine avatar and back again.
His regular sleep shorts had been casualties of the previous night's experiment, reduced to tattered remnants that had required careful disposal to avoid awkward questions. Tonight called for more strategic wardrobe planning.
From his dresser, he retrieved the stretchiest athletic shorts he owned—a pair of compression shorts designed for serious exercise, with enough elastane content that they might survive supernatural transformation without completely disintegrating. They weren't attractive, but functionality took priority over aesthetics when you were planning to potentially turn into a golden-maned lion-man in the middle of the Olympic Peninsula wilderness.
The second item on his mental checklist required a brief trip back downstairs. Moving with enhanced stealth through the house, he made his way to the kitchen, where Charlie's collection of practical items included a small box of wooden matches tucked behind the coffee mugs.
Veer palmed a matchbook with the kind of fluid motion that would have made pickpockets jealous, then paused to consider the implications of what he was preparing for. The matches weren't for camping convenience or emergency fire-starting. They were insurance—a way to dispose of evidence if his forest excursion resulted in the kind of encounter that left supernatural bodies requiring complete destruction.
*The thought should bother me more than it does,* he reflected as he returned to his room. *But some threats don't deserve the luxury of moral complexity.*
His phone, charging on the nightstand, buzzed with the kind of insistent notification pattern that had become familiar throughout the evening. The group chat with the three Cullen sisters had maintained a steady stream of conversation since their departure, ranging from continued appreciation for the cooking demonstration to increasingly flirtatious exchanges that made Veer wonder exactly what kind of supernatural courtship protocols he'd accidentally triggered.
Jessamyn: "Still thinking about those knife skills of yours, sugar. Very... impressive... precision."
Eleanor: "The way you handled that whole spice-toasting process was like watching art in motion. All that controlled technique!"
Edythe: "I find myself curious about what other... talents... you might have been modest about mentioning. So many interesting possibilities to explore."
The subtext in their messages was becoming less subtle with each exchange, and Veer found himself caught between amusement and the growing realization that vampire courtship apparently involved significantly more direct communication than he'd anticipated.
But before he could respond to their latest round of loaded comments, he needed to handle the practical matter of letting them know he'd be unavailable for the next few hours without revealing exactly why.
Veer: "Thank you all for such a wonderful evening. I'm going to get some sleep soon—tomorrow's going to be busy, and I want to be properly rested for whatever adventures await. Sweet dreams when you get there."
The response came back almost immediately, suggesting that all three sisters had been actively monitoring their phones:
Eleanor: "Sweet dreams to you too, handsome! Hope you sleep well."
Jessamyn: "Rest up, darlin'. We have plans for you tomorrow."
Edythe: "Pleasant dreams, Veer. Until morning."
The coordinated timing of their responses confirmed Charlie's assessment about strategic group communication, but Veer found himself genuinely touched by their synchronized well-wishes. Whatever supernatural complications surrounded the Cullen sisters, their interest in him felt authentic rather than merely cosmic obligation.
He plugged his phone into its charger, ensuring it would be fully powered for whatever communications tomorrow might bring, then turned his attention to more immediate preparations.
The compression shorts were functional but hardly dignified. The pilfered matchbook felt heavier than its actual weight suggested, carrying as it did the potential for actions that would permanently alter the supernatural landscape of the Olympic Peninsula. And somewhere beyond his bedroom window, three nomad vampires were continuing their pattern of attacks that had already caught the attention of local law enforcement.
Veer moved to his window, opening it with careful quiet and listening to the sounds of the forest with senses that extended far beyond normal human capability. The night was alive with the usual Pacific Northwest symphony—wind through evergreen branches, the distant sound of streams flowing toward the ocean, small creatures moving through underbrush with the kind of purposeful activity that marked nocturnal hunting.
But underneath the natural sounds, his enhanced hearing caught something else: the absence of sound that marked predators large enough to silence entire sections of forest with their presence.
*They're out there,* he realized with crystalline certainty. *Close enough to affect local wildlife patterns, far enough away that Charlie's people haven't been able to track them effectively.*
The rational part of his mind suggested that hunting nomad vampires in their own territory, alone, at night, was the kind of decision that led to becoming a cautionary tale rather than a hero. But the divine part of him—the part that had roared with supernatural authority from a mountaintop the previous evening—whispered that some threats were best handled directly, efficiently, and without the complications that came from involving innocent people in supernatural warfare.
Three nomad vampires who had already killed multiple hikers.
One divine avatar with mountain-moving strength, enhanced reflexes, and the moral certainty that came from protecting the innocent.
The mathematics were simple enough.
Veer changed into his compression shorts, tucked the matchbook into what passed for a pocket, and prepared for what might be either a routine forest run or the first supernatural battle of his new existence.
Either way, he would be back before dawn, and Charlie would wake up to find his nephew safe in bed, ready for another day of pretending to be a normal teenager navigating high school social dynamics.
The forest called to him with voices that promised both freedom and conflict, and Veer found himself eager to answer that call with the full force of his divine nature finally unleashed.
Some problems, after all, were best solved with overwhelming force applied at exactly the right moment.
Tonight felt like exactly the right moment.
---
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