Thirty minutes and a gas stop later, Marcel and I swigged cold Gatorades from twenty-ounce bottles, sat on the hood of my car, watching through the convenience store window as strangers forked up their cash in exchange for corn nuts and fuel. I always was amused by the sheer blissful unawareness that most people exhibited on their day to day routines, all while a werewolf and vampire sat unbothered and in silence. Granted, they had no idea we were what we were, and it wasn’t like we went around broadcasting our existence by forming totally unsuspicious congregations of shirtless dudes in the woodlands.

“I’m going to miss this,” I said, gulping down red, sugary water.

“You’re acting like this is a for sure thing. Let’s not pretend the sorcerers are going take this sittin’ down.”

Of course not. They preferred to float above it, figuratively and literally. Sorcerers liked to think our frustration, decades of bitter unrest caused by the mysterious disappearances of our kind, was placated by annual invitations to the biggest magical parties thrown by the wealthiest of our community. Exotic foods that lined yards of catered tables, semi-magical clothes that glittered when you wanted them to, and scantily clad sorceresses that danced in mid-air promised a tempting show...but was not a solution.

“I have faith in my dad, but even though I’m siding with him, I think we should start saying goodbye to the pleasant climate we're living in.”

Marcel let out a rushed breath and a snort right after. He said, with vigor, “Speak for yourself. Do you remember when Cassidy Manson brought a needle to class and pricked her finger to see if I’d find her irresistible? All because some Full-humans think sucking blood off each other’s sweaty hands isn’t the grossest thing they’ve ever heard.” Marcel shivered dramatically. “Blood’s our requirement. Do your people wear oxygen tanks when you’re about to get freaky? I don’t think so.”

“We breathe air though, why would we nee—Uy!” One single snarky corner of my lip lifted as quickly as it fell down. “I understand your point. You don’t have to get violent.”

“I barely hit you.” He rolled his eyes. A long swig from my drink helped me suppress the tickling laughter welling up in my throat. Marcel was quick to dish out a light punch and never quick to take one, but the latter wasn’t really his fault. Sure, it was his choice to fast, which was why he bruised so easily, but he couldn’t help the fact that he loathed the taste of blood and most sanguineous foods. As kids, his mom would force him to eat coagulated pellets, checking his cheeks after their meals. Fights back then were much more even as a result.

After a minute of silent drinking and eating, I continued to dwell on the possibilities my dad’s bill had opened for us and the downside of that. “People aren’t going to stop having misconceptions of us when we reveal ourselves.”

He threw his head back and gave a single burst of a laugh. “No shit. I’m bettin’ every fandom with a vampire in it is going to have a culture shock. Just as soon as they realize the chances of finding a pale fanged hottie are very low.” He meant, statistically, most vampires were as dark as him and as normal looking as everyone else.

“That’s not...” I began, but I was hesitant to bring up my real thoughts in front of Marcel. Sometimes it felt I was being too negative about something neither of us could control. “We’re different. Monster lynch-mob different. I’m not sure revealing ourselves will keep Skinners from abducting and killing and, God, whatever else. If anything, they’ll gain allies.”

Marcel’s movements slowed enough for me to comprehend that he was mulling things over. He examined my face through dark eyes and thin, lowered eyebrows, illuminated by the glaring artificial light streaming through the window of the convenience store. One of his feet swung over the other, a defined jaw fell and rose, and an empty hot-dog wrapper crumpled in his bunched up hand. He was the kind of person who avoided the physical signs that came with stress, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting when he was truly uncomfortable.

“We can hope for the best.” He was somber. I could hear his Georgia roots when he was serious, even after years of living in Texas alongside our peers. “Nothin’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” I replied quietly, letting the matter drop. “Maybe I’m jumping the gun a bit.”

“For real. You’re worse than Lily when your dad gets involved.”

“You’re kidding. I’d have had a heart attack by now if I were her. And speaking of, how long until she catches wind that my dad declared war on anyone who belongs to the pro-concealment movement.”

“Not long at all.”

A shrill ring blared in the empty parking lot before poor Marcel could take a proper sip of his drink. He spat blue mist into the air and then wiped his mouth hastily upon his sleeve. He couldn’t have predicted her punctuality. Honestly, I was also surprised. Lilith “Lily” Bates was a witch, but her affinities didn’t work that way.

Marcel winked upon answering, dropping his voice to a croon. “Hi baby girl, you know you shouldn’t call me so late.” He loved to be the object of Lily’s ire.

“Ugh! Tell Yandel to pick up his phone. Now.”

I could hear for seven miles on a good day. I didn’t need the message relayed. Through a smile, the last of my drink slipped between my lips and down my throat. I had to let go of the last bit of trepidation I felt towards my dad’s bill - it was way too early to form a conclusion.

“Tell her I’m in a meeting.” 

Because of the flood of messages from my politically involved peers, I'd shut my phone off.

“Sorry hun, can’t do that for you. He’s got business.”

"I am going to hurt you."

"Hurt me good."

“I will make your drinks smell like seawater every time we go out to eat. Pass me to Yandel, immediately.” She said.

Marcel lowered the phone with a hand over the microphone located at its base. “Sir, it’s urgent.”

“Give here.” I waited a second. “Hey, Lily.”

“Yandel! My mom is freaking out. She’s asking me if I knew that you knew that your dad was going to pull a Timothy Hawk—hold on—Mitsy go back to sleep, it’s really late!” I could hear noises in the background: a clattering of dishes and metal, a running sink, and her baby sister’s trickling giggles. Miles away, Lily was engaging in normal, unmagical behavior.

I said, “No. Of course not! If I did, I wouldn’t have kept the knowledge to myself…”

My words caused me to lay a hand over my forehead.

And that’s exactly why my dad didn’t tell, I thought.

My lips weren’t loose. The reason I told Lily and Marcel whatever I could was that my father preferred it that way. He knew how intimidating it could be for my friends to approach the son of the Senator of the Wolven, especially when said friends had parents as members of Supernatural Congress that not always saw eye to eye. Marcel’s dad, Henry, and Lily’s mom, Minnie, didn’t agree on many solutions for our most pressing issues, so in an effort to snub rumors of alliances and collusion, my dad let me be as open as I wanted to be with them.

“But Mr. Robinson knew. Emilio’s been using my mom’s advice for months, and she didn’t have an inkling to his plans. She feels really betrayed, Yanni.” Her voice came soft and vulnerable, and oh god, she pulled the stupid nickname on me.

“Your mom is pro-concealment, Lilith. My dad didn’t have much of a choice when the majority of her backers are old enough to have crashed Bram Stoker’s last birthday. And guess what, he didn’t tell me either, and I’m not here nor there on the issue.”

“I know.” Her sigh served as a pause to the conversation. Marcel lifted his brows in question, and I lifted a finger, waiting for her to continue. “Your dad shouldn’t expect any favors from her for a while. She cares for him enough to help him regardless of her problems with his views, but she doesn’t like being kept out of the loop.”

“I’ll pass the message forward. Thanks.”

“Yandel.”

“What?”

“I’m only concerned. You guys are my friends, and I wouldn’t want crappy underground politics to get in the way of that. Things are heated right now, to add to that. With my mom’s divorce and her patrons snipping at her...I just wish that our problems were as simple as saving the world for a day. It’d be ten times easier than dealing with the real things.”

I remained quiet for a little, allowing the abrupt sound of a faucet turning off and the clinging of dinnerware to fill the space where our words would have been. Marcel bumped his knee against my thigh, inquisitive, and I signaled him to wait once more.

“You and me both. How about we talk about it tomorrow, alright Bates?”

“Alright, Ramirez. I’m hanging up. Tell Robinson to finish his American Gov essay without me.”

The call went silent as soon as the phone left my hand. Imparting Lily’s message to Marcel was the second thing I did, right after releasing an echoing, theatrical groan that remained the single most distinctive sound in the parking lot for a solid three seconds.

My friend wasn’t fazed in the slightest. “We should head back. Dorm lights are out right now,”

“You drive. I’m tired.”

It didn’t take long to set out. 

The long roads lined by dark green hill country went uninterrupted at night. Texas traffic was nonexistent away from the larger cities, and since we lived in a small town—due to the real estate price, not the secrecy aspect—two hours away from Houston, our journey kept tranquil and noiseless. A headache could be avoided around these parts, which was all I could ask when considering the mind-splitting bomb that my father unleashed today. I didn’t really believe the whole reality of the plan had set in. And on top of the frustration was the growing aches in my body. I’d been pushing back a certain metamorphosis for an irresponsible amount of time.

Bing.

Earlier, I had turned on my phone when Lily's call had passed, and now the screen brightened the passenger side.

AOF Notification for Political Canis.

As if werewolves actually exist. Do me a favor, get a life.

- TriColorWolf

Huh. I licked my perfectly normal canine. For every rise that I received online, a wicked grin unfurled to reveal my delight. Too bad the response wasn’t from someone more engaging. I had a couple of repeat aggravators, and one in particular, who hadn’t messaged me in days, had left a huge gap in my twisted heart when they proclaimed they couldn’t tolerate me anymore.

I didn’t bother responding to this random individual, but I mentally thanked them for their distraction. Tomorrow would be another day for that. Tomorrow things would be better.