Bound To My Enemy

"Remember what we discussed, Vivienne." The sound of Edmond's voice breaks through my thoughts. His voice has that familiar authoritative tone that has guided my life for seventeen years. "This place is vastly different from the estate."

"Different how?" I ask, but I'm not sure if I really want to know the truth.

"Something bad has happened in this area." Strange animal attacks. Strange sounds are being heard across the moors, according to locals. He gets rough on the driving wheel. "Vivienne, I need you to be careful. More careful than you've ever been."

"Father, it's just a school," I say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. "With teachers and students and coursework and normal teenage routines. You know, the things you've been keeping me from my entire life?"

His jaw tightens. "Normal teenagers don't have fathers who hunt abominations for a living."

Father has never given me a good answer about what he actually does for work, just vague mentions of "security consultation" and "specialized protection services." All I know is that it pays well enough to afford top schools and the sprawling Lake District estate, and it's dangerous enough that he's covered in scars he refuses to explain.

"You've been tutoring me privately since I was five," I continue, pressing the argument I've been building for months. "I don't know how to connect with people my age. I don't know how to be normal."

"Normal children don't live in this world, Vivienne. They become casualties."

"What aren't you telling me?" I ask softly.

For a moment, I think he might actually answer.

"Your mother," he says eventually, "was killed by something that shouldn't exist. Something that walks on two legs and thinks like a person but is pure beast underneath."

Father rarely talks about Mum, and when he does, it's always in the context of her death. I have no memories of her, just a handful of photos and the nightmares that have plagued me since childhood.

"She would have wanted you prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"For the monsters that masquerade as people." He pulls through the wrought-iron gates, and I get my first real look at Blackthorn Academy.

Father parks near the main door and turns to face me fully. "I'm serious about this, Vivienne. Trust your gut. If something feels wrong, if someone makes you uncomfortable, you ring me immediately."

"Father..."

"Promise me."

The passion in his voice makes my throat tighten. "I promise."

"I'll be back to collect you for winter holiday," Father says, setting my trunk down by the registration desk. "Six weeks. You can manage this."

Six weeks of freedom.

"I love you, darling," he says, pulling me into a brief hug. "Remember what I taught you."

Stay alert. Trust no one completely. Never let your guard down.

"I love you too, Father."

And then he's gone, leaving me standing alone in the stone-floored main hall with my trunk and a stomach full of butterflies.

The corridor is alive with activity, girls unpacking, parents giving last-minute directions, the chaos of move-in day that I've only seen in films.

I find my assigned house and make my way up the narrow staircase to the third floor. Room 34. I stop outside the heavy wooden door, taking a steadying breath before pushing it open.

"You must be Vivienne!" A girl with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes springs up from where she was arranging photos on her desk. "I'm Sophie. Sophie Richardson. I'm absolutely thrilled to have a roommate!"

Her excitement is infectious, and I find myself smiling for the first time all day. "Lovely to meet you."

"I was beginning to think they'd given me a single," she adds, speaking rapidly like she's had too much coffee. "Which would have been fine, but I love having someone to chat with, you know? Where are you from? I'm from London, but my parents wanted me somewhere with 'new air and discipline' whatever that means."

"We move around quite a bit," I say, setting my trunk on the empty bed. "Most recently the Lake District."

"Brilliant! Why do you move so much? Diplomatic family?"

"Something like that." The lie comes easy.

Sophie seems to accept this, launching into a detailed description of everything she's learned about the school in the past two days. The dining hall serves until nine PM, there's a café in the student common area, and supposedly the football team is legendary.

"They've won every match this season," she says, pulling clothes from her trunk. "The captain is this bloke Declan Hartley, and he's reportedly incredible. All the girls are mad about him."

I nod along, only half hearing as I unpack my clothes. The normalcy of it all feels surreal after years of private teaching and isolation. A roommate who discusses football teams and dining hall hours instead of survival tactics and possible threats.

"Oh, and there's this girl Freya who's in my chemistry class," Sophie adds. "She seems really interesting. Quite strange, you know?"

By the time I finish unpacking, it's nearly dinnertime.

The dining hall is exactly what I expected from films about boarding school, long wooden tables, high ceilings with exposed beams, tall windows facing the grounds.

"That's the drama society table," she says, pointing toward a group of animated students. "And over there are the debate team students."

I pick a salad and a bottle of sparkling water, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. Sophie's pointing out the art students when I notice the football team's table.

They're impossible to miss, eight guys clustered around a long table near the fireplace, all broad shoulders and easy confidence.

But as I scan the dining hall for an empty seat, my eyes catch on one of them, and something strange happens.

My heart starts beating faster, and there's a tingling feeling in my fingertips that I can't explain. He's looking straight at me.

The weirdest part is that he looks as shocked as I feel. His entire body has gone perfectly still, like a predator that's just spotted food. Or perhaps like prey that's just spotted an attacker.

I force myself to look away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Vivienne?" Sophie says, waving a hand before my face. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I manage, though my voice sounds strained even to my own ears. "Just... tired from the journey."

But I can feel his eyes on me as Sophie takes me to an empty table near the windows.

"That's him," Sophie whispers, following my eyes. "Declan Hartley. I told you he was gorgeous, right?"

Declan. The name fits him somehow.

"He's staring at you," Sophie adds, her voice pitched low with excitement. "Oh my God, Vivienne, he's absolutely looking at you. That's so odd, he never pays attention to new kids."

It should be uncomfortable, being watched so closely by a stranger. Instead, it makes me feel... aroused.

"I'm going to get pudding," Sophie says, standing up. "Want anything?"

I shake my head, glad for a moment alone to collect myself. But as soon as Sophie goes, I hear footsteps approaching my table.

"Hello." The voice is warm, slightly cautious. "I'm Freya. Freya Black."

I look up to see a girl about my age with dark hair and knowing brown eyes.

"Vivienne," I say, glad for the distraction. "Vivienne Ashford."

"I know." She slides into Sophie's empty chair without request. "You're the new transfer everyone's talking about."

"Everyone's talking about me?" The thought makes my stomach clench with dread.

"Small school," Freya says with a shrug. "New faces are big news. Plus, you've got half the football team looking at you like you're the second coming."

I look toward their table and immediately regret it. Declan is still watching me.

"That's... unsettling," I say, turning back to Freya.

"Declan's not usually the staring type," she says carefully. "He's more of a 'strong silent boss' sort. Very focused on football and his friends." She pauses, studying my face with a focus that makes me uncomfortable. "You must have made quite an impression."

Before I can ask what she means, Sophie returns with a slice of chocolate cake.

"Freya!" Sophie grins, sliding back into her seat. "I was just telling Vivienne about your chemistry class."

"It's going to be interesting," Freya says, but her eyes stay on me. "I have a feeling this term is going to be very eventful."