Chapter 172: Tastier and Better to Drink
Chapter 172: Tastier and Better to Drink
Cyrus Calder and Audra Sloane did not have to wait beside the road for much longer.
A black sedan soon appeared at the end of the street and slowed as it approached them.
Audra recognized it immediately.
When the car stopped, she opened the rear door but did not get in right away.
A faint reluctance lingered in her eyes.
"Then I’ll see you Monday. Good night, Cyrus."
Cyrus gave her a small wave.
"I’ll see you Monday. Get home safely."
Audra finally entered the car.
Cyrus remained beneath the streetlight until the sedan pulled away and disappeared farther down the road.
Then he turned toward home.
Halloween was still very much alive across Grayhaven.
Even this late, groups of young people remained outside in costumes, wandering between restaurants, parties, and whatever other places people visited on nights like this.
Cyrus watched them pass without much interest.
His part of the holiday was already over.
By the time he reached his apartment building and climbed the stairs, he was mainly thinking about sleep.
Then he saw someone standing in the hallway.
Daphne Whitlock.
She was still wearing the same clothes she had worn when she left The Full Moon Lounge earlier.
A thin cigarette rested between her fingers.
Smoke curled lazily around her face, and the distant look in her eyes made her seem unusually troubled.
Cyrus slowed.
So Daphne smoked?
That was new information.
He had never seen her with a cigarette before.
Then again, considering how many unusual sides of herself Daphne had already revealed, perhaps he should stop being surprised whenever he discovered another one.
Cyrus walked quietly enough that she did not immediately notice him.
Daphne remained lost in thought until he was only a few steps away.
Her eyes suddenly focused.
Then she looked at the cigarette in her hand.
For some reason, she immediately seemed flustered.
Under Cyrus’s silent attention, Daphne hurriedly crushed the barely smoked cigarette into a portable ash pouch.
The hallway still held a faint trace of smoke mixed with her usual fragrance.
It was not particularly unpleasant.
Daphne cleared her throat.
"You’re back."
Cyrus nodded.
"I just got off work."
Her expression shifted back toward the careful concern he had grown used to lately.
"You worked hard tonight. Are you hungry? I can make something if you want."
"Thank you, but I already ate."
Cyrus had no reason to make her cook when she had clearly not prepared anything yet.
Besides, there was an important difference between accepting a kindness someone offered naturally and deliberately asking for more.
Right now, Cyrus believed he occupied the morally stronger position between them.
Daphne had crossed boundaries first.
He had merely responded by making himself useful to her conscience.
Actively exploiting that too openly would ruin the balance.
"You should get some rest too, Ms. Whitlock."
Daphne looked slightly surprised.
"You’re telling me to rest?"
"You look tired."
That was enough concern for one night.
Cyrus unlocked his apartment.
"Good night."
"Good night, Cyrus."
He stepped inside and closed the door.
Daphne’s smoking and troubled expression stayed in his mind for perhaps ten seconds.
Then Cyrus dismissed both.
Maybe she had genuinely been upset.
Maybe she had deliberately waited in the hallway looking miserable because she knew he would come home eventually.
Maybe she simply did not want cigarette smoke trapped inside her apartment.
There were too many possibilities.
Guessing would achieve nothing.
Cyrus opened his diary instead.
He recorded the important parts of the day.
Halloween at Faye’s house.
The lounge event.
Audra unexpectedly showing up.
Walking with her afterward.
He also checked the recent entries carefully against his current memories.
Nothing important seemed missing.
At least the human holiday had been genuinely interesting.
That thought alone made the day worth recording.
The following Sunday passed without much excitement.
Cyrus had no major plans, so he allowed himself to rest properly.
He slept.
Studied.
Used his phone.
Ate whatever required the least effort.
After the chaos that often surrounded him, an uneventful day felt almost luxurious.
Monday morning arrived far too quickly.
Cyrus opened the cabinet where he kept his Frostborn suppressants and frowned.
Only one blister pack remained.
He had gone through them much faster than expected.
That meant another visit to Vera.
The thought was annoying.
Then Cyrus remembered the amount of money he currently had saved.
His mood immediately improved.
A month ago, buying another supply of medication would have felt like a serious financial problem.
Now it was simply an expense.
The difference was remarkable.
Cyrus swallowed his morning dose and felt, for once, strangely optimistic about his financial future.
When he stepped into the hallway, he found Daphne waiting near his door with food.
Neither of them reacted much.
Their morning encounters had become almost automatic.
She handed him breakfast.
He accepted it.
They exchanged a few ordinary words and went their separate ways.
At some point, this had simply become their routine.
St. Alder was as crowded as ever that morning.
Students filled the halls, and Cyrus once again received more attention than he wanted while walking toward senior advisory three.
Only after reaching the back corner and taking his seat did the constant glances become easier to ignore.
Owen Keats arrived shortly afterward.
He sat down and immediately looked amused.
"Guess what I heard someone say on the way here."
Cyrus glanced at him.
"What did they say?"
Owen did not bother dragging out the suspense.
"Someone was talking about you and asked why your hair isn’t white."
Cyrus paused.
That was not the sentence he expected.
Owen laughed.
"They said if you had white hair too, maybe St. Alder really would have some secret rare-blood student hiding here."
For a brief moment, Cyrus felt a warning bell ring inside his head.
Then the feeling passed.
"People really come up with anything."
His reaction remained calm.
He had learned enough about human society by now to understand that his original fear of instant capture and government experimentation had probably been exaggerated.
A strange rumor at school was still only a strange rumor.
Nobody had evidence.
Nobody even knew which rare-blood line to connect him to.
As long as Cyrus did not suddenly transform in the middle of class, he doubted a comment about white hair would matter.
Owen pointed at his own hair.
"Speaking of that, do you think I’d look cooler if I dyed mine blond?"
Cyrus stared at him.
Owen continued with complete seriousness.
"Maybe I’d look like someone who definitely has a girlfriend."
Cyrus had no idea how those two concepts were connected.
His expression apparently showed that.
Owen quickly explained.
"You know how it is. Sometimes you have to create your own image. If I had really cool blond hair, maybe girls would start thinking I look interesting."
Cyrus remained unconvinced.
"If you like it, you can try it."
That seemed safer than attempting to understand Owen’s reasoning.
Still, the idea of changing one’s appearance had some merit.
The previous day, while exploring random videos online, Cyrus had discovered old fashion trends involving enormous dyed hairstyles, exaggerated bangs, and enough styling products to make the hair look almost architectural.
Apparently people had once called some versions of it scene hair.
Cyrus had stared at the pictures for several minutes.
If those styles were still common, he could probably adopt one and walk directly past Isolde without being recognized.
The idea had genuine tactical potential.
Unfortunately, he had been born in the wrong era for it.
The first morning class eventually ended.
As soon as break began, Cyrus stood and headed toward the nurse’s office.
The hallways were relatively quiet this early.
When he reached the doorway, Vera was with another student.
A girl sat on one of the beds while Vera carefully removed an IV needle from the back of her hand.
Vera’s expression was warm and professional.
"Fortunately, it looks like your blood sugar was simply too low."
The student nodded.
Vera continued, "You’re still growing, so don’t start skipping breakfast because you’re worried about your weight. That habit can cause real health problems."
"I understand. Thank you, Ms. Sable."
"You’re welcome. Do you want to rest here a little longer?"
The girl shook her head.
"I feel much better now, so I should get back to class."
"All right. Take it slowly, and make sure you eat something."
"I will. I’ll see you later."
The student stood and headed toward the door.
For several seconds, Cyrus almost believed Vera was a completely normal and dependable school nurse.
Then the girl stepped outside without looking up and nearly walked directly into him.
Cyrus moved aside in time.
She stopped, looked up, and immediately became embarrassed after recognizing him.
"Sorry, Cyrus."
"It’s fine."
She hurried away.
Cyrus entered the nurse’s office and closed the door behind himself.
Vera watched him.
The gentle expression she had used with the student gradually disappeared.
In its place came the familiar amused smile Cyrus trusted significantly less.
"What brings you to see me this morning?"
She already knew.
Cyrus ignored the question.
"I need more suppressants."
Vera’s smile deepened.
"That’s easy. You still have your discount, so buying them from me is a pretty good deal."
Cyrus nodded.
"That’s why I came here."
Vera rested one hand against the desk.
Then something playful entered her golden-brown eyes.
"Would you be interested in an even better deal?"
Cyrus became suspicious immediately.
"What kind of deal?"
"Half price."
That actually caught his attention.
Half price meant saving enough money to buy several cakes.
Or several proper meals.
Or simply keeping the money, which was even better.
Cyrus had recently discovered that having savings produced its own form of happiness.
Still, Vera never offered anything without wanting something in exchange.
He remained silent and waited.
Vera seemed pleased that he had not rejected the idea outright.
"I heard something interesting recently."
Cyrus’s suspicion increased.
Vera leaned slightly forward.
"Some rare-blood traits change when the body changes, right?"
Cyrus said nothing.
The smile on Vera’s face became more curious than seductive.
"Blood can change too."
Cyrus understood where the conversation was going before she finished.
Vera’s attention sharpened with obvious Bloodborn hunger.
"I’ve heard that blood from a younger physical state can have a different taste. Sometimes sweeter, sometimes cleaner."
She lightly touched one finger to her lower lip.
"So now I’m curious."
Cyrus’s eyes narrowed.
Vera looked directly at him.
"If your Frostborn transformation changes your blood too, I’d like to know what it tastes like."
The offer finally became clear.
Half-price suppressants.
In exchange, Vera wanted to test blood taken while he was in his younger form.
Cyrus stared at her.
Of all the people who knew pieces of his secret, Vera was somehow still finding new ways to become troublesome.