3 - My first night with Brianne
I arrive exactly when Brianne told me to—or so I think. By the time I turn the corner, she's already there, leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, arms crossed, looking furious.
«Didn't anyone teach you to be on time?» she snaps, her glare sharp.
My cheeks burn. «I'm not late! And… people usually get paid to work,» I mumble defensively.
She snorts. «You're two minutes late. My blood counts as payment, doesn't it?»
I stay silent, no comeback ready.
We move side by side into the dark suburban alleys. Flickering lamps cast jittery shadows, turning the paths into a maze. Brianne walks confidently, as if she knows every turn by heart. Distant sirens and the hum of a lone car occasionally break the silence.
«Any questions?» she asks, glancing back.
I shake my head. This reality—Crystalbringers, secret patrols—still feels surreal.
«Your crystal is parasitic,» she explains. «It feeds on organic material—blood, in your case. That urge pushes you to feed, granting power in return.»
I almost miss thinking I was just a vampire, but the truth is more complex.
«Blood Crystalbringers have three key abilities: enhanced strength and senses, rapid healing, and something called Blood Rage.»
«Blood Rage?» I repeat, uneasy.
«It's a defense mechanism. If the crystal senses you're near death, it temporarily turns you into a war machine.»
«We don't know much—Blood Crystals are rare—but it's extremely dangerous.»
I gulp, glad I've never faced death.
We keep moving, passing only the occasional homeless person or drunk slumped against a wall. Curiosity finally overtakes me.
«What about the others? What crystals do they have?»
Brianne sits on the curb and gestures for me to join her. She pulls out a worn cigarette pack, offers one, and raises an eyebrow.
«Smoke?»
I never have, but foolishly, I accept. The first drag burns my throat, and I nearly collapse coughing. Brianne calmly takes it back and flicks it into a manhole.
«I have an air crystal, class B, elemental type,» she says. «Clare's is fire-elemental, also class B. Elaine's is telekinesis, psychic type, class C. You'll see them in action soon.»
I remember how she blasted me back with wind before I could bite her. Her control reminds me of her strength.
«What do the classes mean—B, C…?» I ask, steadying my breath.
She shrugs. «Crystals range from E to A. E is harmless, A the most dangerous. Yours is class A.»
My heart races at the idea of a high-ranked crystal, but her bored expression quickly deflates my pride.
«What about Gin?» I ask, picturing the silent guy in black.
«We're not sure. He patrols alone, classified A+ by the Secret Service. Supposedly, he's the strongest Crystalbringer.»
So much for feeling special. If he's A+, I'm barely second-tier at best.
Brianne crushes her cigarette underfoot. In the moonlight, her emerald eyes shine, and I recall the rumors about her.
«Brianne, can I ask something else?» My voice wavers.
She smirks. «What rumors are you dying to clarify?»
Heat rises to my face. «Well… some say you've been with half the guys at school—and even a few teachers. I don't believe it, but… care to explain?»
Her hand touches mine. My heart races wildly.
«Just like your crystal needs blood, mine needs… different guys' sperm every month,» she whispers, sliding her hand under my sweatshirt.
I freeze, her breath brushing my cheek.
«It's been a month since I fed my crystal…» she whispers.
The thought of becoming a school legend spins in my mind.
Heart pounding, I close my eyes, expecting a kiss. Instead, she bursts out laughing, nearly rolling on the pavement.
«AHAHAH! You believed that? My crystal's elemental, no organic material needed. Those rumors come from rejected guys.»
«YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! I NEARLY DIED OF SHOCK!» I yell, my cheeks blazing.
She wipes away tears, still laughing. «Sorry, Ren. Clare's pranks are rubbing off on me.»
Humiliating as it is, I'm relieved she denies everything so firmly.
She stands, smoothing her skirt.
«Break's over. Let's keep moving.»
We patrol for two more hours, drifting through empty backstreets under the faint orange glow of distant lamps.
«Didn't know you smoked,» I say, breaking the silence.
She snorts. «And I didn't know you were a stalker.»
I flush. «I'm not! I just… notice stuff.»
She smirks. «Relax. I quit ages ago. One cigarette at midnight just helps me focus.»
We finish patrolling without incident—just a few stray cats and tipsy students laughing their way home.
«We're done,» Brianne says. «Think you'll manage alone?»
The identical alleys are confusing, but I nod. «I'll manage. It's about a half-hour walk.»
She grabs my arm.
«I'll walk you home. If something happened to my new teammate, I'd never forgive myself.»
We chat about random nonsense for thirty minutes. Brianne's surprisingly easy to talk to, despite her teasing. Finally, we reach my apartment building—a shabby place with peeling paint. Not glamorous, but it's home.
«This is it,» I say softly.
«Your number,» she says, pulling out her phone.
We exchange numbers, and before I know it, she hugs me. Her body presses against mine, and she places a soft kiss on my forehead.
«See you tomorrow, little Ren.»
Her unexpected warmth leaves me speechless. My cheeks burn, and my heart pounds.
«See you tomorrow, Brianne.»