I feel my sense come alive once again. As if nothing from what I last remember even happened. My eyes lift open with a forced breath. A monitor beeps steadily as I look around the walls made entirely out of mirrors. 

My reflection is in each and every single mirror. My first reaction is screaming through pursed lips. Small curves and lines make up this alien's body, the edges of her face more defined, yet not one inch of color has left her complexion. 

She's the outcome of letting Athan sink his teeth into her neck. But she did it out of nobility. I did it so my brother won't be the one suffering the consequences. It will be me. The elders would've revoked all of his privileges in the clan, including his marriage and the last thing I need in life is an unhappy Kyran for all eternity. But for me, I have nothing to lose. 

I prop myself up in the bed on an elbow. A small stir breaks out in my stomach. Placing a hand on my abdomen, no significant seem to have occurred in my period of unconsciousness. Still small as ever. 

I hear the door burst open, and it goes flying up against the glass, leaving numerous noticeable scratches in its smooth transparency. A dark shadow casts over the threshold of the metal door. The loud footsteps grow louder until I'm able to make out the triangular curves that made up his face, containing little to none color in his complexion. Meanwhile, the rest of him is engulfed in darkness.   

His voice comes out in a quick and caustic breath. "Hello, Beatrice." With an awkward silence lurking among us, there's nothing we can do but proceed with this important visit. He comes over to my bedside. The feeling of his breath casting down on my is enraging, and I make my mind up on the spot. 

Leaning up towards Athan's neck, I let my palm cross straight through his hollow cheeks. A spark of electricity bristles against his cheek instead of leaving a red mark of humiliation. He tilts his head to the side and cracks his neck, causing the crackling of sparks to vanish into nothingness. 

"It's Betrys," my voice rages. "B - E - T - R - Y - S. Beh-trys. Try to get it the hell right for once." I then decide to go to the old school form off insulting. Spitting out his name like venom. "Athan." 

"I'm getting the gist that my presence is not welcome as of the moment." I'm about to nod and throw him out when he adds a soft, "Beatrice." 

"Don't call me that," I fume. My voice is softer and more inviting this time. Athan's eyebrows trace upwards as his lips of lifeless pink open in a curve to showcase his set of bright white pearl teeth. Somehow, while his lips say that he's been told the most surprising news ever, his dead red eyes assure me that someone has ripped his heart out and spat on in it. 

"It has a real ring to the formality," is all that leaves his mouth in his new tone of grimness - a color that I've never been that quite fond of in anyone.

"Excuse me. What?" I stumble to my feet, but my legs only give me enough energy to fall into Athan's arm. His arms slowly wrap around my shoulder blades as I pull myself up by reaching onto his neck. I find it quite odd that for someone I oh so hate, he sure makes me feel pretty safe. Athan is the most protective shield there is, and I can't help myself but hold on with every muscle I have. Our bodies are pressed together.

"Nothing," Athan answers. His voice is almost as soft as a whisper. I notice a change in his expression as my soft brown eyes trail up to his eyes. His eyes depict a liveliness that shares no difference than his giant grin of ecstasy. Most hybrids cannot pull off the ray of sunshine look, but Athan is the one exception of one who can. 

With my legs regaining their initial energy, I force myself to let go of Athan. He just stands with a smile that radiates more positivity than even Keanna can bring into the palm of her hand. Keanna, the person who sees more good in life than anyone - both human and paranormal. 

I lean back against the hospital "I just came by to tell you that at noon on Friday we're expected to report to a Peer Mediation session." 

I mouth the words to myself as I look down at Athan's dirty converse. 

~

By Friday, I have an exceptional idea of this facility. It's built upon four levels of cobblestone and glass, each level being dedicating to an individual purpose. The first tier is designated as the living quarters and life. On the second level, people can train or engage in prosaic recreational activities. The third level is reserved recovery stations for those who are in a severe condition - a common place for victims of venomous vampire bites. The fourth level is restricted for "scientific purposes, " and you're required to have a rationale for entering. Mine is this damn Peer Mediation session. Whatever it is.

"The hall pass says 'level four,'" I explain to the operator as he refuses to let me. I show him the pass written on a slip of creamy white paper. His red eyes narrow as he lingers over the pass with gruff breath. Behind him stands a large metallic elevator. With slits of my reflection. "Just get me to where I'm supposed to be at four." 

"Mademoiselle." The vampire displays an unfamiliar accent that I detect Southern Europe in. I place an impatience fist on my the joint of my hip an unpleasant pout forming at the corner of my lips. His eyes trace up to meet mine. "Madam President Lowell forbids me to grant access to the fourth floor unless you agree to the terms of agreement."  

"Get to it," I demand, my voice snapping as I rage. If he were able to have ticked me off he would be flying headfirst into the walls of the elevator. But of course my mind is focusing on why this vampire can possibly bear a red pigment lighter than blood for eyes. It's so unnatural, even with all the color devoid in his complexion. 

"Repeat after me," the vampire instructs and holds the palm of his hand in the air. Falling into this trap of mentality, I also hold my palm in the air. "I, Betrys Wilson, do not hold the Association of Paranormal Activity liable for any possible side effect of this stimulation, including delirium, languor, swelling of the vocal chords, significant loss in hearing, or any condition not listed." 

I sigh and repeat what he says. With that, he steps out of the way and I'm allowed into the elevator, where the thick doors of steel close in front of me. I catch my sloppy reflection in the mirrors. My taut figure is covered by a layer of armor protecting the layer of denim and cotton under it - it's the only outfit the facility permits me to wear. 

Behind me, speakers display barely audible song. The artist - an annoying male who can't decide whether he's tenor or bass - sings a beautiful pop ballad about love. It strikes me with great perplexity. The Elders always have told us that humans are bloodthirsty savages incapable of feeling love, yet here this annoying sugarcoated pop singer is with a song about love. Or who knows. The Elders always did say that we aren't the only of our kind - there's another clan or more out there. Maybe this artist is one of us. 

The music slows down to a distorted halt. The speakers replace it with a robotic female voice who bothers my ears. 

"Please remove your armor." 

I tear off the protective shield that conceals the front part of my torso in a corset without any questions asked. I place it in a cozy corner, and when I look up the doors have slid open. In front of me stands a world behind a bright blue light that nearly blinds me on the spot. 

"Hands in the air," I hear a gruff male voice call. I throw my arms up in the and seconds later, I feel muscular fingers closing around my wrist. It's followed with a sharp pain shooting up my veins from the crook of my arm. The grip loosens and the light adjusts to fit my vision.

I draw in my breath slowly. The linoleum is covered with several layers of plastic wrap covered foggy footprints from the men walking around in hazmat suit. I notice the low ceiling with overhead lights hanging from the ceiling by chains that I can hear softly jangle when the room occasionally falls silent. One strip of the marble walls are made up entirely of a long row of endless glass doors, separated into even intervals. 

I look around, searching for a plaque that has the word "Peer Mediation" engraved into the wood. Unfortunate for me, there are no plaques in sight in the long hallways, but one of the men enclosed in hazmat suits notice my perplexed vibe and comes to my aid. Without words, he turns me to face the glass door on my left. 

The glass is scuffed and sealed together with duct tape in certain areas. The transparence reveals yet another hallway, but guarded with dull redness. As I approach the door, I can't even get my hand on the handle before it flies open and nearly knocks me off my feet. I step in and the door slams shut with a loud, screeching echo. I then hear the lock click. 

My combat boots kick up some static from the dingy carpet that replace the floor. At a perfect angle, both walls nearly touch my shoulders. I look up and a few feet above me, I notice dark lights make up the entire ceiling. The twenty yards of silence and narrowness feel like a tunnel when I enter the main room of Peer Mediation.

The main room isn't that much larger than the tunnel leading to it.  It's rather conglomerate, even with the only piece of furniture being a large round table made from mahogany. Faded marble panels are painted over with the words PEER MEDIATION written in big fancy bubble letters like graffiti. At the table sits two shadowed figures - Kyran and Athan. 

Without a word, I make my way over to the table and slide down into an empty metal chair in between Kyran and Athan. I then turn to meet an unsteady gaze with Kyran as he looks in various directions, a mild tremble visible in the muscles in his arms. My mouth opens as I begin to say something. "Kyran, why - "

Kyran puts both of his hands over my mouth before I can finish my sentence. His voice is soft, and exhibiting great suspicion. "B, quiet. They're listening to us, so keep your voice down." My eyes widen as he pries into my soul until I give him a nod. His words hiss like a snake. "I don't trust these people - I don't trust vampires." 

"Wilson," Athan interjects in a soft voice, "I've known these people since my earliest memory. They're absolutely harmless." He pauses for a moment and looks away from us at the walls that emit this eerie red light. Jerking his head back around, he meets Kyran with a mild glare. "And hey. You trust me, right?"

"That's different," Kyran responds as if courteousness is the most appropriate tone for the matter. "Your family is scorned by various covens in the vampire world and by our clan. I don't foresee any of you double-crossing us at any point in time."  

With that said, the lights go dead and I can't make out where either of them are. I feel metal cuffs on the arms of the chair lock me in by wrists. I straighten my posture and press the back of my head against the banister. A loud grunt sounds in the back of my throat. The sharp pain that shot up from the crook of my arm returns just as a white haze is taking over my vision, soon overtaken by a memory that prefers to lurk around in the back of my head - the isle of useless memories. 

I find myself back in the kitchen that Sabia spends so much of her time in. It all seems so real. I see the checkered black and white panels that always seemed to mess with brain as it said Sabia wanted the dining room to look like tributes to the fifties. The four-panel window above the sink that Sabia likes to cover with the old shag curtain that Eloísa Caro made. The table with two crystal bowls full of pretzels for snacking; an old Bible placed in the center for everyone to use when necessary. 

I'm back to my first day of small-group group faith formation, preparing me for Confirmation that following year. Sabia spent all summer beseeching the minister to place me in her class until he finally caved in. Among our small group was Alonna Abbotts, Winn Calling, Rylan Elderson, Keanna, Athan and I. Kiona Embers was also part of the group, but for reasons that she had to retake the class until she was Confirmed in May. 

I recall that during our half hour break before we returned to the second portion of that day's lesson. Kiona - who people liked to call the darker version of Keanna - had just extracted a black pen from the pocket of her paint-covered jeans, and said as if she were a salesman, "Free tattoos." 

Alonna did not hesitate to get into the line. She pushed Rylan and Winn out of her way approached Kiona with a smile that I already knew would end up leading to no good. She held out her arm and Kiona whipped up a nice thick outline of a few flames that took up most of her shoulder. Alonna returned to her seat as if nothing happened and gnawed at a pretzel.  

Winn and Rylan both got tattoos of a lion that took up a good portion of their upper arm. With a groan of aggravation Keanna approached her cousin and demanded that she receive a tattoo of Earth. I wanted to join Keanna, but Athan held me back, not caring about me kicking his shins over and over and over again. It didn't even seem to affect him. 

After a twenty minute phone call, Sabia appeared in the doorway, her eyebrows knitting into a fine line of fury. Everyone raced to their seat, not one leaving their mouths as beads of sweat ran down their faces. Sabia went into her reprimanding mode, calling the parents of everyone who received a tattoo, to inform them of these children's misbehavior. 

Getting off the phone with the last parent, Sabia stared down at us with cold eyes. She dismissed everyone from class for the week but held Athan and Keanna back. She looked over a me and said in a raging voice, "Betrys, give us some privacy." So I retreated into the living room where I pressed my ear tightly against the closed door. 

Sabia's words to Keanna were as strong as iron and grated as she fumed. "Keanna Bethany White, I expect so much better out of you. Feel grateful that I came in when I did. How do you think your parents would've reacted if I sent you home wearing the sign of the Devil? They would've been appalled, missy. Appalled, I say.

"And I can't even bear to imagine how the clan itself would react," Sabia raved on. "If they saw your mark, the Elders would deem you Matchless without any second thought. Is a mark of ink really worth adding onto your family's disgraced name? Is it?"

"No ma'am," I heard Keanna reply. Her voice stood brittle and she hiccuped as I could sense her holding back tears. 

"That's what I thought," Sabia said in another version of a cold, scorning voice. "Now go home and think about your actions, missy."

A few seconds later, the door slammed shut as the sounds of a sobbing Keanna escaped through the front door. I sank to the ground, crestfallen. Keanna never cried. There was too much hope in the world to warrant a shed of tears. As of that day, I decided to loathe Athan from that point forward. He held me back, not Keanna. 

I soon find myself back in the dark room. I can hear Kyran and Athan struggling. Are they experiencing painful memories as well? I feel the chair move back into the table. All of sudden, the grunting and groaning comes to a slow stop. The lights turn back on in a flash of an eye. 

Athan and Kyran are in the back of their chair embedded in sweat. I can't help myself but laugh. I soften down to a whisper. "You two wackjobs."

"Oh, shut up," the two say in unison. Their voices are soft. They exchange weird looks and Athan turns to face me with an affectionate look in his red eyes. I'm unsure whether to be flattered or worried about that. 

"Athan," I ask, leaning over the table as I reach for his. A shot of ice shoots up my veins as my fingertips reach him and I shiver. Without further thought, I clasp my palm over his fist. "Why did you hold me back when the others were getting tattoos?"

"Because." He replies as if it's not that big of a deal, but from the look in eyes, I know his reasons must be serious. Kyran does the same thing. "You were too innocent back then, Beatrice. You still are. That's why I changed you. To protect you."

"How is me being a vampire-werewolf hybrid supposed to protect me?" I ask. The words leave my mouth as if they don't make sense although they make perfect sense. 

"Because it means that you're being watched by the government," Athan explains to me. He touches his next, so I do the same. A feel a rough spot on the side, as if there's a chip planted inside me or something. "The Elders can't harm you without getting caught." 

"But isn't that dangerous for us?" Kyran decides to interject and press for answers on my behalf but without consent. "I thought the entire reason we're here is because of hiding from the government."

"No," Athan declines the idea with a shake of his head. "This is a secret bureau of government sponsored through NASA scientists who try to protect paranormal life form such as ourselves. Since she is twenty-five percent human, they can consider her one of their more important subjects."

"Wait," I break into the conversation. I look around for any form of security cameras, but none are in sight. "How am I even a teansy bit human?"

"You were born in mortal soil," Athan explains to me. I nod along, pretending to be interested even though I am about through with all this bullcrap. "Howl Falls' fences provide a protective barrier that blocks out any form of human atmosphere and replaces it with out own. When you're born, the type of air you breathe in determines your species in the paranormal world. You breathed in human air and are the offspring of werewolves, so you were originally a hybrid." 

"So what's the difference between a regular werewolf and werewolf-human hybrid?" I ask. I find myself a little more intrigued than I want to. 

"There's a delayance in your transformation," Athan explains to me. I look at Kyran who shrugs. "That's all really."

"I'm not sure if I'm correct," Kyran chimes in with his voice louder than it was when I came into the room, "but doesn't that also mean it's possible for her paranormality side to be extracted?"

"If they use the right equipment," Athan furthers on with his voice at the same level as Kyran's, "but it would take years, decades maybe, for any association to even come close to generating a serum that can eliminate abnormal DNA and mess around with the molecular structure of a creature to make them mortal. They'd need a very specific type of enzymes. This is a very advanced form of genetic engineering."

"But it's possible?" Kyran presses, getting up in Athan's face. I hear gulp come from one of them. 

"Yes." 

~

Hey guys. I enjoyed writing this chapter. Don't worry. Some Athan and Betrys drama isn't that far into the future.  

If you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks. 

X Shay X