When I arrived in town—a somewhat rudimentary and quiet place—I headed straight to a few stores to buy some new clothes. If there was one thing I definitely didn't miss, it was money. My mother inherited most of that guy's assets when he vanished from our lives. Sure, my half-sister got a good chunk of the inheritance too, and I was completely fine with that. Aunt Samanta was an incredible person and, let's be honest, an absolutely gorgeous woman... But that was a thought I kept strictly to myself; nobody needed to know.
That guy really had great taste, but he was still a massive son of a bitch.
I walked into a clothing store that looked slightly more modern than the rest of the local shops. The place smelled of synthetic leather and cheap perfume.
"Alright, let's take a look at the jackets... This one I'm wearing is getting old and battered," I muttered to myself, heading straight for the racks at the back.
I started browsing through the hangers slowly. There was a bit of everything: washed denim jackets, sporty styles, coats way too heavy for this weather... Nothing that really fit my style. I wanted something simple, yet with a strong presence.
"Need help finding the perfect size?" a smooth, velvety female voice sounded right beside me.
I turned around and came face-to-face with a young shop assistant, twenty at most. She was wearing a fitted store uniform with a nametag pinned to her chest. Leaning against the rack in a relaxed posture, she flashed a half-smirk, shamelessly checking me out from head to toe.
"Actually, I'm just browsing," I replied, keeping my tone cool and polite. "Looking for a decent jacket."
"Well, we just got some new pieces in that would look... very good on you," she said, stepping forward and tilting her head slightly while holding eye contact. "With your build, a style fitted at the shoulders would really suit you. If you want, I can measure your size... with a tape, of course."
I let out a short chuckle, picking up on her playful banter and clear intention.
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I can eyeball it."
"Pity," she smirked, unfazed, and pointed toward a rack right behind me. "That one in the corner is brand new. Looks right up your alley."
I looked where she pointed and spotted a black leather jacket with a clean cut, free of unnecessary frills or oversized buttons. I walked over, pulled it off the hanger, and slipped it on to try it out. The fit was tailor-made, sitting perfectly across my shoulders.
"See? I've got a great instinct for these things," the girl teased, leaning against the wall and watching me through the mirror. "If you need anything else... or a tour around town after my shift, just say the word."
"Will do," I gave a half-smile, grabbing the price tag. "I'll take this one."
I paid for the jacket at the register—the assistant making sure her fingers brushed against mine as she handed over the bag and my change. I nodded goodbye and left the store.
Sometime later, around four-thirty in the afternoon, I was sitting at an outdoor table at a place called the Mystic Grill. Legs crossed, I was sipping an ice-cold Coca-Cola while staring up at the cloudy sky.
"How far can someone actually go with magic...?" I whispered to myself, staring at the palm of my right hand.
Was flying actually possible? I turned my hand slowly and opened it toward the sky, as if trying to grasp the air itself.
"Nah, I'm overthinking this. If that were really possible, what would I be? Some kind of deep web Superman?" I let out a soft laugh. "Realistically speaking, ripping a tree out of the ground with my bare hands would already be pretty solid."
"Ethan?" a female voice called out from a distance.
I turned my head toward the sound and saw Lizzie walking over. I gave her a subtle nod.
"Hey, Lizzie."
"What are you doing?" she asked, looking a bit confused by my posture.
"Ah, this? Just me letting my mind wander a bit too far."
Lizzie approached and sat down across from me. She rested both elbows on the table, propping her chin on her hands and staring intently at me. Since my accelerated healing had already cleared up the cut on the corner of my mouth, she didn't even notice the fight from earlier.
"I thought you said you wanted to stay at school this morning," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "What's the matter? Was I bad company?"
"Not really... Some things happened, and I decided to step out for a walk."
"Ah, right, I see. So tell me, Ethan, what do you think of the school so far?"
"Honestly? It's not bad at all," I laced my fingers behind my head and glanced up at the sky for a moment. "I thought Alaric was lying, but as far as I've seen, it's pretty 'normal'... if I can even use that word."
I paused for a second, taking the opportunity to clear up a question that had been lingering in my mind.
"Lizzie, I have a question about vampires."
"Which is?"
"Do they ever age? I mean, some of the vampires at school look like they're under seventeen."
"Yep, that's right. None of them age. You met my mom, right?"
"Yeah... but it's still really weird to me. And to be honest, Lizzie, I've never seen you use magic. How good are you at it?"
"Oh, about that... You see, Ethan, my sister and I don't use magic the conventional way."
Frowning, I looked at her, utterly confused.
"What do you mean? Besides, I never really understood how your mom, being a vampire, had you two. She looks like she's eighteen... Did she have you before she turned, or were you born while she was already a vampire? Is that even possible?"
Lizzie took a sip of her drink before speaking, leaning forward slightly with a serious expression she rarely showed.
"The Gemini Coven is a very ancient lineage of witches, but we have a very specific... and bizarre mutation. Josie and I are what the supernatural world calls Siphoners."
"Siphoners?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. It means we were born without a single drop of our own magic inside us. If I try to cast a spell from scratch like a normal witch, nothing happens. I'm basically a regular human... until I touch something that contains magic."
She extended her right hand across the table, pointing at mine.
"We don't generate magic, Ethan. We steal it. We can absorb power from magical objects, other witches, werewolf essence, vampires, or even active spells. We 'siphon' that energy and use it to cast our own witchery. If I touch you right now, I could pull the energy from your werewolf side or your witchcraft and use it against anyone. That's why you've never seen me cast anything out of nowhere—I need a source first."
I stared at her hand for a moment, processing the information. The thought of someone being able to simply drain someone else's mystical essence with a single touch was unnerving, to say the least.
"Got it... So you're basically a magic vampire," I commented with a faint smirk. "And what about your mom? How did a vampire give birth to two siphoner witches?"
Lizzie let out a heavy sigh, twirling her straw.
"Caroline isn't our biological mother. Our biological mother was named Jo Parker, a Gemini witch. She was pregnant with us and about to get married, but on her wedding day, her twin brother—a complete sociopath named Kai—stabbed Jo to kill us and wipe out our bloodline."
I felt my jaw tighten. The tone of her voice showed that even though she hadn't experienced it directly, the story still weighed heavily on her.
"Jo died that day... But our coven, in a desperate move to save the Gemini heirs, used an emergency transfer spell. They took the fetuses—Josie and me—and transported us into the only safe, viable womb nearby. And that womb belonged to Caroline, who was already a vampire."
She looked straight into my eyes to make sure I grasped the sheer absurdity of it.
"Vampires are biologically dead, Ethan. They don't get pregnant. But the coven's magic used her body as a sort of mystical incubator. Caroline carried us, protected us, and gave birth to us, even as a vampire. That's why we call her our mother—because she raised us, loved us, and did everything for us from day one."
I shook my head slowly, digesting the dark past. "I'm really sorry about all that, Lizzie. Life really sucks sometimes."
"Yeah, tell me about it. I know," Lizzie replied, letting out a soft huff.
She glanced away toward the street for a brief moment, adjusting her posture to brush off the heavy mood. It wasn't something she enjoyed dwelling on.
"Anyway... Do you have any other questions about all this?" she asked, shifting her tone to break the tension.
I seized the opportunity to bring up the question that had been nagging at me.
"Actually, yeah. Have you ever heard of something called an imprint?"
Lizzie wrinkled her forehead, shaking her head slowly.
"Imprint? I have no idea what that is. I've never read anything about that term in any spellbook or coven history."
She paused, lightly tapping her fingers on the table as she pondered, eventually giving a small shrug.
"But if there's anyone who might know something about a weird topic like that... it's definitely her."
I looked at Lizzie curiously.
"Who's her?"
"Hope Marshall," Lizzie answered, rolling her eyes dramatically with a heavy sigh. "I hate to admit it, but Hope is way too smart for her own good. She knows a ton of weird, obscure stuff I've never really understood. If anyone has an answer to your question, it's definitely that strange girl."
I let out a muffled laugh and leaned forward slightly, eyeing her teasingly.
"Wait a second... Do you have a personal grudge against Hope, Lizzie?"
"A grudge?" Lizzie shot back instantly, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair with an indignant look. "I can't stand that girl! She's always walking around with that moody face, playing the mysterious loner."
She huffed in frustration, shaking her head.
"And that's not even the worst part, Ethan. What really gets under my skin is that my parents always seem to give a hundred times more attention to Hope than to me or Josie! My dad treats her like she's fragile porcelain, and my mom is constantly worried about her well-being. It drives me crazy on a level you can't even imagine."
I gave a half-smile, realizing that despite her usual flair for drama, it was a genuine sore spot for her.
"Right... So it's more of a childhood jealousy thing than anything else," I teased gently.
"It's not jealousy, it's a sense of justice!" she snapped back playfully, pointing a finger at me before fighting off a grin. "Whatever... If you really want to know about this imprint thing, talk to Hope. Just don't tell her I sent you, or she'll think I'm encouraging her social life."
I slipped one hand into the pocket of my new jacket, grabbed the shopping bag with the other, and stood up with a playful smirk.
"Don't worry, my lips are sealed... This will be our little secret," I winked at her before turning around and heading back toward the school.
Lizzie clicked her tongue with a sharp "Tch!", turning her head away. As she watched him walk off at a relaxed pace, she felt her cheeks flush warm, unable to control the subtle blush creeping up her neck.