Chapter Text
Later that night, after being driven to her current place of residence, she finds herself embroiled in a consequential discussion. With none other than the very person who drove her directly from Vergil’s back to campus, she now sits inside of her dorm. While she’s perched upon her tidy bed, Mal occupies her desk chair. Outwardly expressing disgruntlement, he keeps his arms crossed. She’d anticipated unwinding in solitude for the remainder of the night by putting on a movie and cracking open a novel after a quick departure from him, but that idea promptly dissolved when Mal said that he needed to talk.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” he prefaces, while furrowing his brows. He concentrates his gaze on his worn gray sneakers, as though discomfort forbids him from finding her gaze. “We both know you’ll do whatever you want. But, I’m telling you that I don't want you to see him again.”
She wonders, for the most fleeting of moments, if Mal was already acquainted with Alexander before tonight. It’s impossible, though. Of course Mal doesn’t know him personally. She and Mal don’t run in the same social circles as Alexander. He wouldn’t have had an opportunity to establish any meaningful sort of connection with him. Sure, there’s the scenario of them having unexpectedly crossed paths at Almira’s on one of her days off, but even that seems extraordinarily unlikely. Not only would Mal have surely informed her already of such an encounter, but Mal’s job as a cook keeps him preoccupied in the kitchen. Unlike her, he doesn’t interact with customers.
“Is this about you feeling like you have to protect me? Or is this about him specifically?,” she asks, looking to discover whether or not Mal would have assumed this stance had she decided to spend time with some other guy. Is it purely a natural instinct that he’s given voice to? Or is there more to this than that?
“I know you don’t need me, but I’m always going to look out for the people I care about. You know that, ‘Lina,” he starts, with conflict brewing within his brown eyes. Yes, she does. It’s one of his most appealing traits, after all. When he genuinely cares for someone, he will do all within his power to ensure their safety. It’s a seamless blend of heartfelt compassion and unwavering loyalty that drives him to speak up whenever he feels that a threat to the wellbeing of a loved one has emerged. “But this is also about him,” he finishes, without shying away from her curiosity.
Although she would be lying were she to claim to be stunned by this revelation, it does leave her intrigued and somewhat bemused. Sure, she won’t soon forget how he carried himself when Alexander picked her up in front of the school’s library that evening, but that could have easily been chalked up to him being protective. Just as he would have been had she been meeting with some other random guy. Alexander hasn’t furnished Mal with legitimate reasons to dislike or disapprove of him. He was courteous, offering an innocuous greeting and extending a hand to further establish cordiality.
“What about him?,” she asks, while toying with the fringe on one of the decorative pillows sitting upon her bed. She’d purchased it from a thrift store, despite entering the shop intending to find something else that one summer day. One of the joys of thrifting is discovering unexpected finds.
Bluntly, Mal says, “I don’t like what I’m picking up.” Stripped of context, the statement would have elicited a chuckle from her. Perhaps it would have even lured a smirk to her lips. However, she knows exactly what he means. She knows that his remark carries deeper meaning that only she would grasp. “That hunch you get sometimes, right?,” she asks, referring to a delicate secret that he’s entrusted her with for three years now. She doesn’t fully comprehend it herself, because it’s something that only he can fully understand.
Nodding once, he says, “Yeah. Something’s off about him.” ‘Off’. The word that he’s used to describe a handful of people in this manner. It’s a vague descriptor, with no explicit connotation. It only serves to highlight the impression of the person being described being different from others in some manner. Different isn’t inherently a bad thing. In a world made dull by conformity, eccentricity can be like a much needed breath of fresh air.
“It’s been awhile since we’ve talked about that hunch,” she says, indirectly prompting him to speak further of it. Which he does, somewhat tentatively. “It’s like…a feeling. Like how some people just know when something big is gonna happen just before it does.” Sure, she’s heard of cases involving people demonstrating presentience. Due to an indescribable feeling, people have managed to predict natural disasters such as earthquakes before they’ve actually occurred.
According to them, the bizarre feeling typically pertains to an event and not a specific individual, though. Although she hasn’t experienced that feeling herself and she is not acquainted with anyone who has foreseen a specific natural disaster, the idea of people possessing that capacity is not really preposterous. If animals can sense when their environment is about to be disturbed by a disaster, why not human beings on some level? Humans are, after all, living creatures just as animals are.
“So, you think he’s gonna do something,” she surmises, trying to make sense of the glaring difference between him and people who have foretold the transpiring of disasters. However, while turning his head from side to side, he quickly corrects her. “It’s not about doing something. It’s about something going on with him. Something’s off.” There’s that word again. ‘Off’. Off how though? In a negative way? Or in a positive way?
“I know you’ve felt this before, though. It’s not just him,” she points out, recalling the handful of other times that he’s experienced this peculiar feeling. Some of the instances involved people he didn’t interact with at all. Just people passing him by on the street. Confirming what he cannot deny, he dips his chin into a single nod. “So, what do you think it means?,” she asks, still feeling perplexed by the matter.
After pausing for a passing minute, he grudgingly answers, “I don’t know.” Frustration, begotten by his limited awareness of himself, permeates his speech. She knows that he’d like to offer an answer of substance, something that could effectively place her in his shoes. Were there some instruction booklet or some manual that he could easily access and refer to in order to gain information about his feeling, he would. But, he’s navigating uncharted territory.
Still, maybe he understands more than he believes. Maybe, if she poses the right questions, he’ll find that he has more information to offer than he thinks that he has. With this in mind, she releases, “Think about all of the other times you’ve felt this. Does off mean bad? Or just different?”
A thoughtful expression settles upon his countenance as he considers her words. Her desk chair creaks as he leans back into it. “Different, yeah. Bad? Maybe.” That’s something, at least. “But not necessarily,” she points out. Which means that he could very well be overthinking the animosity that he feels compelled to show Alexander. Although he understands her point, he doesn’t admit it. He doesn’t reconsider. Not right now, anyway. With a scowl seizing his lips, he stubbornly insists, “I don’t like what I’m getting from him.”
She won’t contest that, because that is his truth. However, it may not be entirely the truth of what he's feeling. Intending to shine a light on that possibility, she asks, “But it’s the exact same feeling you’ve had the other times?” He gives a small yet noticeable nod, unknowingly offering an answer that supports her train of thought. “Maybe this time it’s not just that feeling. It’s also your own personal feelings,” she suggests, convinced that the likelihood is considerable. If the feeling itself isn’t necessarily ominous and he’s felt it around others he’s not expressed such disapproval of, then that only leaves the conclusion that his personal feelings have entwined with the other feeling. Perhaps they’ve become conjoined to such a degree that they’re inseparable when it comes to Alexander.
He says nothing in response, far too obstinate to externally acknowledge the idea. He’s not ordinarily one to be quite so resistant to the prospect of being wrong about someone or about something, but he’s clearly persistent in disliking Alexander. His silence does not unnerve her, though. No, she uses the absence of sound to her advantage. She uses it to consider that peculiar feeling of his from other angles. Her thoughts eventually lead her to remove the blanket of silence from the room. “Hey, Mal?” Looking up from the carpeted floor and meeting her gaze with his own again, he wordlessly signals that he’s listening. So, she carries on with, “Do you feel that way around Marie or anyone else we work with?” It hasn’t occurred to her to ask until now. While the topic is in the air, she might as well. Readily, he answers, “No. I’m not picking up anything from them.”
A thought occurs to her, and it is vehement in its refusal to be dismissed. After another brief moment of silence, she asks, “What about me?” The corners of his lips rise into an easygoing smile. His eyes soften, housing eternal fondness within. “You’ve always been you,” he replies, with genuine warmth entering his voice. His compassion has always been a cherished home to her. In this difficult world, his heart is a beacon calling her to a place where she can rest her weary head. A place where she needn’t worry about false pretense.
However, neither his kind smile nor the soft look in his eyes can distract her from an important fact. “That’s not what I asked,” she points out. Whether unintentionally or deliberately, he’s evaded her question. He can neither ignore nor dispute that, and he knows it. Which is why his next words are meant to address her curiosity. His smile disappears as a troubled expression settles upon his face. “I don’t know,” he answers. After a pause, he adds, “You’re not the same as them.” Which means that when it comes to her, there is not an absence of feeling. He feels something about her.
“Is it that feeling, though?,” she presses, hoping to get to the bottom of this. He falls silent for a little while, as he searches within for an answer. “I don’t know. Even if it is, it’s not bad. Nothing’s off about you like that.” Like that. Meaning that in his perspective, something could be off about her in some other way. His assurance that the feeling isn’t bad when it comes to her means very little, unfortunately. Parting her lips, she draws his attention to the reason why. “But you said the feeling itself isn’t necessarily bad,” she replies.
After releasing a sigh conveying mild frustration, he redirects the focus of their discussion. “Look, Alina. The point is, I don’t want you going out with him again.” Oh, she knows. His stance on the matter has been made perfectly clear to her. In the end, however, his stance is strictly that. A stance. Something that she is in no way obliged to act in accordance with. Something that she can ignore, if she wishes to. Firmly, she says, “I know you’re just looking out for me. But, as we both know, I’m in charge of my life. Not you or anyone else. And remember, I can take care of myself.” She’s not some hapless damsel in need of rescue. She is her own knight, who can shield herself. She requires no one’s assistance.
“Besides, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” she adds, simply acknowledging pure truth. Alexander hasn’t wronged her in any way. So far, in multiple ways, he’s actually presented himself as being respectable. Unconventional as well in some notable ways, but respectable nonetheless. The allure of his outward self extends to his inward self. His personality and appearance both appeal to her. He’s a fascinating puzzle, not unlike the elaborate gizmos that she’s enjoyed deconstructing in her spare time over the years. She likes understanding the foundation upon which complexities exist, and it does not seem that he will be an exception.
“I’m not saying I’m gonna go on another outing with him, but I’m not making any promises,” she says, offering only what she can. Honesty. The truth, unembellished and unconcealed. She won’t try to soothe his concern with lies. To do so would be a betrayal.
Even so, he doesn’t like her statement. He’d much rather hear her reassure him, without deceiving him, that she will not see Alexander again. Yet, in the end, he knows that this is the best that he will receive. He knows that the power to decide whether she spends any more time with Alexander lies only within her.
Given the time and how long of a day it has been for them both, they chat only for an hour more. They partake in light conversation distanced from the topics of Alexander, Mal’s odd feeling, and the outing at Vergil’s. Conversation about tedious assignments, upcoming school events, and video game news.
The moment that he leaves, she promptly seats herself at her desk and opens her laptop. She doesn’t have much time to spend tonight on research, but she can at least get a start. Her fingers glide across black keys, stringing together words that will hopefully lead her to enlightening search results.
She begins two separate searches. Each one afforded its own web browser tab.
The first, ‘psychic abilities involving sensing other people’.
Telepathy arises more than once, but she refrains from clicking on any of those links. Mal mentioned nothing about hearing other people’s thoughts, fortunately. Not only would she not want him hearing her thoughts, but she can only imagine how overwhelming it would be to be inundated with countless thoughts from everyone in his environment at any given time. An endless stream of noise is a curse that she would not wish upon anyone.
Confidently, she also ignores the results featuring clairgustance. Mal has mentioned nothing about being able to detect odors and scents that others cannot. This…‘feeling’ of his has nothing to do with a preternatural sense of smell.
She does come across something called claircognizance, though. This, she decides, is worth investigating later. When she has more time and energy to spend on this particular pursuit. It seems plausible that claircognizance is what Mal has, given that it’s essentially a heightened ability to perceive things. Supernatural awareness is what it’s also described as, according to a couple of the search results that she briefly checks out.
For now, resolving to sharpen the focus of her research to claircognizance tomorrow, she switches away from this tab and to the other.
Her second search, ‘vampires and fae crossover lore’, isn’t as straightforward when it comes to yielded results. Then again, this time, she isn’t necessarily searching for an answer.
Although she’s accustomed to reading novels about and watching films involving vampires and fae separately, she’s never thought about the concept of vampires and fae interacting. She’s never considered the dynamics that would emerge in a world in which the two coexist in close proximity to one another.
The two fictional beings comprise a duality, with vampires often representing death and fae representing life. Sometimes, they’re depicted as being adversaries in prolonged wars waged by the two sides. Vampires are often considered beings of darkness whereas fae are seen as beings of light. Some of the information that she intakes is dependent upon depiction, given that some tales present fae as being fearsome and malevolent whereas others present them as benevolent creatures who seek to neither intimidate nor frighten.
Inexplicably, intuition tells her that real fae are not homogenous. Nor are real vampires. They are much like people in the sense that different personalities and motives exist among them. Some can be amiable while others can be callous. Some use their abilities to accomplish good while others are fueled by avarice and egocentricity. It’s as if she knows these things to be realities. Which is utterly absurd, because everyone knows that neither vampires nor fae exist. They’re confined strictly to stories exchanged by people over time. Immortality is merely a desirable fantasy. Or a chilling nightmare, depending upon one’s perspective. Either way, it is not something that actually exists.
Except, somewhere in the back of her mind, something stirs. An awareness that should not be there.
Somewhere within her, unshakeable doubt meets sound logic.
Feeling fatigued, she powers down and closes her laptop. All the while, her mind whispers ludicrous questions.
Is the supernatural strictly fiction? Are vampires and fae truly myth?
And, why does she feel so certain that she knows facts about how fae and vampires truly are?