The Divergence

Sam got his forearms up just in time.

The pale-skinned blonde vampire’s fist crashed into them with a dull, heavy impact that traveled through his entire body. 

His shoulders jolted backward, his muscles tightened involuntarily, and for half a second his arms felt almost numb from the force. 

His eyes widened as he stumbled back before catching himself, staring at the vampire in front of him.

She was small, pale, almost delicate-looking, with long blonde hair and empty red eyes. 

There was almost no visible muscle on her body, nothing that should have explained why blocking one punch felt like he’d just caught something considerably heavier than she was.

He’d heard vampires were strong. Everyone had. 

The rumors had been everywhere since the First Divergence: stronger than humans by a ridiculous margin, faster than anything human-shaped had any right to be, and able to recover from things that should have killed almost anything alive.

But Sam was a werewolf.

That distinction had mattered to him. Whatever a vampire could do to a human, he’d assumed it wouldn’t translate cleanly to someone like him. 

Wolves were stronger than humans too, faster, tougher, and healed quickly. Unlike vampires, they could also transform. 

No matter how dangerous a vampire was supposed to be, Sam had thought he’d still be able to overpower something with almost no visible muscle.

The blonde vampire moved again.

Sam ducked as her boot passed over his shoulder and slammed into the wooden table behind him. 

The table exploded beneath the impact. It didn’t simply crack or tip; thick wood shattered into large fragments and splinters that scattered across the floor, leaving Sam staring at the wreckage for a fraction of a second too long.

The blonde vampire’s hand flashed toward his face, and he barely got his arm in the way. 

The hit knocked him sideways, sending him skidding across broken plates and splintered wood before he planted one foot and stopped himself.

Across the restaurant, the fight had spread almost everywhere.

The other werewolves were engaged with the vampires, but ”engaged” was beginning to feel generous.

The vampires kept moving, not simply quickly, but cleanly and efficiently. 

They seemed to slip just outside attacks rather than scrambling away from them, their movements flowing from one position into the next with an ease that irritated Sam more every second he watched it.

The dark-skinned vampire with green hair leaned backward beneath a swipe from one of the female wolves, pivoted around the follow-up, and then lightly leapt several feet backward. 

Another vampire immediately replaced her, this one with blue hair and the same impossible empty red eyes. 

She smiled as she came forward, launching her own attack before the wolf had even fully adjusted to the change.

They were rotating.

Sam realized that with a tightening in his stomach. There were eight vampires and only five werewolves, yet the vampires weren’t even using all eight at once. 

One stepped out, another stepped in, while a third watched and waited for an opening to swap places with one of the others.

They were taking turns.

Sam’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t expected this, and he hadn’t expected the vampires to be so willing to meet confrontation head-on either.

That was part of what had bothered him from the beginning. 

He’d wanted to know where they stood, not politically or in some abstract sense, but actually stood. 

Humans talked endlessly about integration, containment, coexistence, restrictions, registration, blood collection, rights, and safety. 

Everyone had an opinion about what vampires and werewolves were supposed to do next.

Sam wanted to see whether the vampires would accept it.

Whether they’d bend.

Whether they’d let humans determine where they could live, when they could move, what they owed, and what happened whenever some frightened human decided they were dangerous.

So he pushed.

Maybe too much.

Then someone had pushed back, and now the restaurant was half destroyed.

A sharp yelp pulled Sam’s attention sideways.

One of the female wolves folded around the blue-haired vampire’s kick. 

The strike buried itself into her stomach with a muffled thud and lifted the werewolf completely off her feet, launching her backward toward one of the restaurant’s large glass panes.

Her body struck it.

The glass burst outward.

For one suspended instant, Sam saw her framed against the broken opening before she disappeared from sight and fell two stories to the ground below. 

A few humans who hadn’t gotten far enough away screamed, and Sam’s head snapped toward the window as he listened for anything from below.

The blue-haired vampire leaned slightly toward the broken pane. ”She’s moving.”

”Good,” the green-haired vampire replied, sounding entirely unconcerned.

There was no panic or alarm between them. It was as if launching someone through a window and down two floors had barely registered as anything serious.

Sam felt anger flare hot in his chest, only for something colder to follow it because the vampire was probably right. 

The wolf below wasn’t dead. He could hear faint movement beneath the broken window, along with breathing and the scrape of a body shifting against the ground. 

She’d be hurt, but regeneration would handle the rest.

The golden-haired vampire moved through the edge of Sam’s vision, avoiding another female werewolf’s attack by inches. 

Her empty red eyes flicked briefly toward the other vampires before returning to her opponent, and even she wasn’t fully committed to the fight. She was checking everyone else.

Sam hated the realization.

They weren’t taking the wolves seriously. Not really.

The vampires were smiling, talking, trading positions, and watching one another. 

They were fighting, certainly, but nothing about their behavior suggested desperation. Sam’s hands curled into fists before another thought struck him, one he liked even less.

If they did take the werewolves seriously, what happened then?

He looked toward the broken window again. What if the blue-haired vampire had kicked harder? 

What if the golden-haired one had gone for the throat instead of shoving people away? What if all eight attacked at once instead of taking turns?

Sam pushed the thought aside as a heavy impact shook the floor.

He turned and saw one of the pale-skinned vampires with bright red hair slammed down by the other male wolf. 

Her back struck the floor hard enough to crack tile beneath her, an impact that would have thrown any ordinary human immediately into shock if it didn’t kill them outright.

The vampire giggled.

Actually giggled.

The male wolf froze for a fraction of a second, and that was enough. The vampire bucked her hips upward and wrapped both legs around his upper body, locking them just beneath his arms.

Sam immediately understood what she was doing.

So did the wolf.

He clawed at her legs and drove fists toward her body, but every attempt to strike properly was either blocked, redirected, or caught. 

The vampire tightened her hold, and the wolf’s face began to change as his breathing became strained and broken, the pressure around his torso interfering with his ability to draw in air.

A vampire standing off to the side watched with amused curiosity. The green-haired one, Sam thought.

”Suffocating someone is smart,” she commented. ”It wouldn’t work on us, though.”

The red-haired vampire snorted while maintaining the hold. ”Lucky me.”

The wolf’s knees hit the floor, his hands weakening until a few seconds later he sagged. 

The vampire immediately released him and kicked him away from herself, sending his body rolling several feet before she sat up and stared toward him.

”Is he having a seizure?”

Sam frowned, but the blonde vampire came at him again before he could answer. 

He ducked beneath the strike aimed toward his chin and rushed sideways, abandoning her for a moment to reach the other male wolf.

He was on the ground, but conscious. Barely.

A growl rumbled from deep in his chest before his body began to change.

The sound was one that would disturb humans. Sam had heard them talk about it before—the grinding of bones, the shifting joints, the unmistakable noises of a human-shaped body becoming something that shouldn’t have fit inside it. 

The transformation wasn’t graceful, nor was it supposed to be. The humanoid shape collapsed and rebuilt itself rapidly, limbs changing proportions as fur spread across the body.

The vampires around them stopped joking for a moment.

The red-haired vampire who’d nearly suffocated him tilted her head as a large mottled-brown wolf rose from the floor. 

Its shoulders were far higher now, its frame broader, its teeth longer, and a deep snarl rolled from its throat as it stared directly at the vampire who had pinned it.

Her empty red eyes widened before her mouth curved into a smile. ”Someone couldn’t handle losing.”

The wolf lunged.

The change in speed was immediate. Humanoid werewolves were fast, very fast, but wolf form changed everything. 

The body no longer needed to fight around a human structure. 

Four limbs drove against the ground, the center of gravity dropped, and acceleration became violent.

The red-haired vampire barely had time to move before the wolf was on her.

She swung one arm.

The impact caught the animal across the side of the head and sent its huge body crashing into a nearby wall. 

Plaster burst and debris sprayed outward, but the vampire shook her arm afterward and looked down.

Blood ran along it.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. The wolf’s teeth had shredded through skin and fabric during the exchange, leaving dark vampire blood coating the torn sleeve.

The vampire looked at the damage and groaned. ”My sweater is ruined.”

Sam stared at her.

That was her complaint?

The wall exploded outward before he could think about it for long.

The mottled wolf burst from the debris and lunged again, but this time the vampire met him head-on. 

She blurred forward and slammed her palm into the side of the wolf’s head, visibly dazing him as his front legs faltered for a split second.

The vampire raised one leg and brought it down hard across his shoulders.

The floor groaned beneath them.

Tile cracked.

The wolf collapsed onto his forelegs before snapping his head around and lunging upward again.

Across the restaurant, orange hair flashed. 

Sam turned his head just enough to see one of the female werewolves slashing repeatedly toward the orange-haired vampire, who kept swatting the attacks aside rather than bothering to evade all of them.

Her hands slapped wrists away, caught forearms, redirected claws, and occasionally shoved the wolf backward whenever she came too close. 

Yet the orange-haired vampire kept looking somewhere else, her red eyes repeatedly flicking toward the golden-haired vampire.

Again.

And again.

Checking.

Making sure she was all right.

Sam felt something twist in his chest.

That kind of behavior wasn’t fake.

He didn’t want to admit that, especially not now.

He’d accused them of pretending to care about one another because he’d wanted the insult to land, because he wanted them angry, because he’d wanted to see what happened when they were challenged.

Now one of them was splitting her attention during an active fight just to make sure another vampire hadn’t been hurt.

Sam hated the contradiction.

The blonde vampire returned, forcing him to block another punch. 

Pain shot through his arm, but when he looked at her afterward, she almost seemed apologetic about it.

Almost.

Sam backed away.

He could stop.

The thought came abruptly and with irritating clarity. All he had to do was say enough, tell the others to disengage, and end it. 

The vampires had already tried to end the confrontation once. More than once. The golden-haired one had said nothing serious had happened yet, and they could have stopped there.

They probably still could.

Sam looked around the restaurant.

It was wrecked.

Humans had retreated toward the exits and upper walkways, watching from as far away as possible. 

The female wolf with the broken wrist was already healing, the one who’d gone through the window was alive downstairs, and the mottled wolf was still trading blows with the red-haired vampire.

Nobody was dead.

He could end it.

Then what?

The thought made his jaw tighten.

What happened when they left? What happened when the others talked about it?

Sam wasn’t an Alpha. He’d never been one. 

There was no instinctive authority attached to him, no overwhelming presence and no natural pack deference. 

Everything he’d built with these wolves had come through effort, convincing them, leading outings, making decisions, standing his ground, and showing that he wouldn’t let humans treat them as curiosities or threats depending on convenience.

He’d earned their respect piece by piece.

If he backed down now, after starting this, what remained?

Worse, what would the vampires think? That wolves barked until someone barked back? That werewolves folded the moment they met something stronger?

Sam growled.

His body answered.

Bones began shifting.

The blonde vampire stopped, and for the first time since she’d started fighting him, uncertainty flashed across her face.

Sam dropped forward as his body changed rapidly. 

Hands became paws, his spine shifted, gray fur spread across his body, and his frame expanded as the sounds of grinding bone and tearing fabric filled the air.

A moment later, a large gray wolf stood where Sam had been.

The blonde vampire stared.

Sam bared his teeth.

This was different.

Humanoid form had limits. He could fight a vampire there, and he could survive one, but he couldn’t quite match her strength and she was faster. Wolf form narrowed that difference.

Pure strength didn’t suddenly increase enough to make him stronger than a vampire in every sense, but his entire body changed how that strength could be applied. 

He had four-legged leverage now, far more effective ways to grapple and drag, a powerful bite, a lower center of gravity, and explosive acceleration.

His speed increased as well.

Sam pushed off.

The blonde vampire reacted late.

He slammed into her.

She twisted aside, but not far enough, and his jaws closed around her retracting arm. 

His teeth punched through pale skin as the vampire gasped, and when Sam bit harder, his teeth grated against bone.

Dark blood flooded his mouth.

Sweet.

Shockingly sweet.

The vampire’s expression changed, but not into fear.

Focus.

Her free hand lifted, and the neat nails on her fingers extended several centimeters. 

Sam barely registered the movement before they raked across the side of his head.

Pain exploded above his eye.

He released her instinctively and twisted away, blood running down the side of his muzzle as he landed several feet from her.

The blonde vampire landed lightly as well and looked at her mangled arm. 

The wound was already beginning to close, torn muscle pulling together while the punctures visibly narrowed.

Her sleeve wasn’t repairing itself.

She flexed her fingers once, apparently checking that everything still worked, before raising her empty red eyes to Sam.

A small smile formed on her lips.

Sam froze.

This was the same vampire who had barely spoken during dinner. 

The quiet one who had kept close to the blue-haired vampire, who’d looked uncomfortable simply being stared at. 

Now blood ran down her arm and Sam’s teeth had nearly torn part of her clothing apart, yet she was smiling.

Not wildly.

Not cruelly.

Just slightly.

As though something about finally having to fight seriously had interested her.

Sam growled and lowered his body while the vampire flexed her fingers, keeping her nails extended.

”You really are faster like that,” she said softly as she stepped sideways.

Sam tracked her movement. Behind her, another impact sent a table skidding across the floor while the mottled wolf snarled somewhere to his left. 

The orange-haired vampire laughed after narrowly avoiding another swipe, and somewhere amid the noise, the golden-haired vampire shouted something he couldn’t fully make out.

His paws dug into the broken floor.

The blonde vampire lowered her stance slightly.

This time, she wasn’t looking surprised.

Sam lunged again.