After my latest meeting with Agent Smith, I drove through town, rethinking everything that happened today, especially the confrontation with Coach Steele and Elijah's threat. What did Elijah mean by, I know your weakness? It wasn't so much the words he used as it was the demented look in his eyes that hinted at a specific target, a pressure point he could use to crack my defenses and bring about my downfall. Something to bring me to my knees and take away my ability to fight back.

I drove with my left hand on the wheel, my right digging into the bench seat, the fabric giving under my scrunching fingers. My mind had drifted into another realm, considering the possibilities of what Elijah meant. An idea of one possibility came to mind, one that stirred up shockwaves of panic, but I ignored it, pushing it from my thoughts as best I could, trying to concentrate on things relating to what he knew about me. Things I'd shared with him about my werewolf transformation, all of which happened on the day of Austin Campbell's funeral in the break room.

I focused on what he knew. He knew I had morphed into a werewolf, so maybe the weakness had something to do with that. What were a werewolf's weaknesses? According to myth and legend, hunters had used silver bullets to kill them, so that might be what Elijah was talking about. If someone on the team had killed Austin Campbell because they knew his weakness, then it made sense they could do the same to anyone else. If Austin was a werewolf, they may have targeted him with any type of weapon that could use silver in its arsenal. A gun, of course, or even a bow that used arrows made of silver. Those two options seemed the most likely. On the same front, because I knew Elijah was a vampire, I could use his weaknesses against him. A wooden stake to the heart came to mind, a traditional method used in books and movies. Of course, that would kill anyone. Some of the other things, like holy water and garlic, seemed more like superstition than reality. Since Agent Smith worked for the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs, he would certainly know how to bring down any type of monster. How to kill these creatures of the night would be the next question I'd ask him.

But I couldn't deny the anxiety that welled up inside of me when I considered the weakness that scared me the most. Elijah's threat seemed personal, as if he knew precisely what would stop me in my tracks, as if he knew what would devastate me, like a low blow to render me powerless. He might not have been referring to any type of weapon, although he might possess one that could kill me. That's when the possibility I repressed moments ago, slammed into me like a freight train at full speed.

It was personal. He had meant it that way, to strike fear into my heart, not only that it was a possibility, but also for me to know it was a certainty. As I considered this, I noticed my body was shaking. Quivers ran down my arms all the way to my fingers, drawing my gaze down to my right hand. My eyes widened when I realized I was holding a chunk of the seat. I didn't just tear the fabric, my fingers had penetrated the cushion and ripped out part of it.

I tossed it on the floorboard as thoughts of Layla in danger overwhelmed me.

An incredible urge hit me to drive by her house. School was over by now, so she should be home.

I mashed the gas pedal and the pickup truck sped up, flying down the main road that led through town. As I neared the street she lived on, more anxiety shot through me, sending my heart to pounding. The possibility of Layla in danger, had my leg bouncing and my grip on the steering wheel growing tighter. I had to reach her and make sure she was safe.

With a hard tug on the wheel, the truck made the turn and sped toward her driveway. At first sight of her older model Honda Civic, a wave of relief flooded through me. Maybe Elijah hadn't intended to bring harm to Layla. I could only hope.

Chief Robinson's police car was gone, so he was still at work. And since it was a few minutes after five, her mom hadn't had time to get home from the bank. Layla was alone. If Elijah and the guys came for her, they would have had plenty of time to get here while I was busy talking to Agent Smith.

I braked, threw the gear into park, and got out of the truck, my ears alert to anything out of the ordinary. My senses seemed razor sharp, as if I was hearing things I shouldn't be able to. Even my sense of smell was stronger than usual... I picked up whiffs of motor oil before I even thought about the garage and the Trans Am. But worst of all, the silence I heard was deafening.

With tension tightening the back of my neck, I rapped on the front door. Pressed the doorbell. After thirty seconds of nothing, I moved on, beginning the process of elimination.

Next, I crept down the side of the house with the detached building in view. The garage door was closed, but my breath hitched when I saw the side entrance left ajar. The fact most of the neighborhood hadn't gotten home from work yet disturbed me. That meant likely no one saw or heard anything if something happened.

I nudged open the side door and peeked into the garage. "Layla?" I called out.

Silence, like someone turned the radio up to full volume, but the station was dead air.

The fluorescent lights shined down on her shiny blue Trans Am, which sat jacked up like it was the other night. I inched forward along the front of the car until I could almost see down the driver's side. My heart hammered in my chest, thudding against my sternum like it wanted to burst out.

As I rounded the front of the car, I saw a turned over toolbox with wrenches and screwdrivers spilled across the concrete floor. But no Layla.

Quickly, I searched the rest of the garage and found nothing. But a strange sixth sense was shouting at me, telling me something was wrong.

At the back of the house, I entered a sunroom and knocked on the door. Still, no one answered. I felt jittery all over and it had everything to do with Layla. I had to find her.

I called her number and got her voicemail. "Layla. It's Evan. Where are you? It might be nothing, but I'm worried. As soon as you get this, call me. Let me know you're okay. Bye."

My fingers found my forehead and combed through my hair. I groaned with trepidation, eyes searching in every direction as I paced back to my truck. I could call Layla's dad, but I didn't want to alarm him for no reason. Truth was, if they had her, bringing the cops into this could get her killed.

Blake popped into my head, so I called him. Straight to voicemail. "Hey man." I tried to keep the shakiness out of my voice. "I'm looking for Layla. Do you know where she is? Call me. It's important. Thanks. Bye."

Surely Elijah wouldn't hurt her because of me. Cause of a stupid football game. It was just a game! But then I remembered what Agent Smith told me about them, that a member of the football team had likely killed Austin Campbell because he was going to blow the lid off of their juicing scheme. I slapped the hood of my truck and put a dent in it far too easily and way too big. Geez. You've got to be kidding me. It was much more than roid-rage; it was vampire and werewolf madness. This entire thing was bigger and viler than anyone could imagine.

I was about to climb back into my truck when my phone dinged. A text message.

You know who this is. Meet me at the rock crusher at midnight. Come alone. I know your weakness.

My fingers quaked as I tried to type a reply.

If you hurt her, I'll...

I erased it and started over. Please. Leave her out of this. You can have me. Just don't hurt her...

I waited for a reply but didn't get one. I tried to call the number, but it didn't have voicemail set up yet. So, after several minutes of pacing and wanting to pull my hair out, I called Agent Smith. I told him everything. He said he had a plan, to meet him at a certain location and we'd talk it over before we went to the rock crusher. It was all going down tonight under the light of a full moon, in the dead of night, with everything on the line.

Ping.

My phone chimed with a location pin from Agent Smith. Judging by the map, it was on the outskirts of town past Pop's Diner but several miles from the rock crusher.

A text message from Agent Smith. Meet there in an hour.

That gave me time to go home and see my mom off to work. She was going in early for her night shift. It was hard to act like nothing was wrong, but I did it by faking like I was knee deep in homework. I hadn't even told her I'd quit the football team yet. That would come later. I just couldn't tell her anything right now, not until I knew Layla was safe.

When my mom left, I waved goodbye, and as soon as her car disappeared, I left the house. I stopped at Pop's Diner and sat there for a few minutes, then switched off the location tracking app she used to keep up with me. Then I sped away to where Agent Smith was waiting. The app would show the diner as the last location I was at. Hopefully, that would pacify my mom if she tried to check on my whereabouts.

As I neared the place where Agent Smith wanted to meet, I barely spotted the nondescript dirt path. Limbs and overgrowth covered most of the gap between the trees. I heard the branches scrap down the side of my truck as I drove deeper into the sylvan hole, but it was only a distraction from the bigger picture of what lied ahead.

I stopped a few feet from Agent Smith's Tahoe and got out at the same time as he did. "What are we going to do?" I asked, taking in a deep breath and exhaling. My hands went to the top of my head, trying to vent some of the pressure building up in my mind.

"Calm down. This isn't the first time I've had to deal with creatures of the night." Walking around to the rear of his vehicle, he clicked his key fob and the SUV's rear door raised. When it reached its full height, I saw a stainless-steel case inside. It was long, like it held a rifle, but it was also bulky, which let me know it held much more.

"I don't care what happens to me."

"I believe you. We'll get her back, don't worry." He nodded to give me assurance, but it helped little. So, to get right to it, he placed his thumbs on two square outlines of dark glass and pressed. A pale blue light surrounded his digits and flashed, releasing the locking mechanism. As soon as the latches clicked, he opened it and swept his hand over a row of handguns, rifles, bows, daggers, and a variety of ammunition. "I came prepared, so don't worry. Vampires or werewolves, it doesn't matter. I can wound 'em or kill 'em, whatever the situation calls for. We have plenty of time to talk about what we'll use tonight, but first, I think it's important to understand what we're dealing with."

"A bunch of superpowered football players who will do anything for a state championship."

Agent Smith suppressed a chuckle. "Much more than that. To come up with a hybrid supplement capable of creating vampires and/or werewolves, it requires two things that make our task a thousand times harder."

"I thought you were confident we could pull this off."

"I am, but I'm not a fool. One thing I've learned is to never underestimate the enemy."

I nodded, gritting my teeth from the tension. "Okay. What are we up against?"

"Well, I've been working this case since Xavier Rhodes won back-to-back titles and then went to State U. Before Austin Campbell was killed, he gave me a blood sample to analyze. It was only after that I discovered that half of the formula would require the blood of an alpha, the leader of a pack. He would have to be the strongest and most formidable werewolf roaming these parts." Agent Smith shrugged. "Could be the coach, or someone else. We'll find out later tonight. But what concerns me more is the second half of what it takes to make the coach's pill."

"What would that be?"

He leaned against the SUV, crossed his arms, and rubbed his chin. "A centuries old vampire who became super powerful on human blood. It could be anyone. Doesn't matter how old or young they look, what matters is how difficult they are to kill and how easily they can blend in with people we see every day."

"I thought sunlight killed vampires," I said. "But Elijah and some of the other players get away with sticking close to the shadows."

"That's myth mostly, but it's partially true. Someone who gets introduced to the vamp world by the coach's pill has a stronger tolerance to sunlight because they're still human. They're still alive. But the ancient vampire I'm talking about might be more sensitive. Sunlight wouldn't kill it like it would a younger vampire because it would have become too powerful from centuries of consuming human blood. That's the key. Human blood. And the length of time it's consumed it. This vampire might even be so strong that sunlight doesn't faze it. It could walk around in broad daylight, and no one would know what it is. Doesn't mean it has to kill to get human blood. It could have found a reliable source somewhere. Anywhere."

I blinked. "It sounds impossible for us to win this."

"Not so, my friend. Not when you have silver bullets, silver daggers, and silver darts for the werewolves. And a little thing I like to call Bloodlust for the vampires, taken from the pollen of a sunflower. The sunlight absorbed by this flower is so concentrated, it's strong enough to kill even a centuries old vampire... if we shoot it enough times." He shrugged as if the topic was a light matter to discuss. "If that proves difficult, we can do it the old fashion way with a wooden stake through the heart." He threw in a slick grin. "Works every time."

That was good to know. Of course, everything I'd learned made me want to keep Agent Smith in the dark when it came to the knowledge that my supernatural condition was permanent. I needed to conceal the truth about what I was for as long as possible. To avoid him turning his weapons on me.

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Chapter 14: 2,620
Story: 28,969