The moat would be fine if it wasn't for the merwolves. They're disgusting, really. The way that awful, rancid smell drifts up to our room. It's meant to be the best room. For Snow it is; he doesn't have to put up with that smell. But I do.

Even so…

I don't know why I did it. I think it just got too much.

I look down at my hands. Blood. Blood. So much blood. I'm knee-deep in water and my face is wet. Tears or blood? I don't know. Mostly blood.

I killed one today.

I hate them. But I killed one and drained it. I can't help but feel completely disgusted with myself.

I always feel disgusting after feeding. But this time it's worse.

The merwolf's body floats aimlessly around my legs, the holes in its neck seeping the dregs of cold, dead blood that I missed. I viciously kick it aside, causing a small swell. It sinks away into the deeper end of the moat. The ripples reflect pleasant moombeams that spread across this side of Watford, illuminating the grass and the water and the diamond paned windows. The scene would be picturesque if it weren't for what I'd just done and the swirling red, ribbons of scarlett dancing in the water around me.

Thankfully it's the start of the Christmas holidays; most people left today. And there's little chance of someone wandering around the moat at this time of night anyway. I wonder if anybody heard the screams of the creature… Or mine. If Snow's in our room then he certainly did. But he knows what I am so it doesn't matter.

I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. Stupid move. This shirt was crisp, clean white little over ten minutes ago. Now it's soaked and dripping and covered in slick, merwolf blood. I shiver and pull it over my head.

There's a clean set of clothes in the forest. That's where I'll go to feed if not the Catacombs. I'm usually clean, immaculate. I can drain a horse and avoid even the tiniest stain, but I like to be prepared just in case. Just in case of situations like this when I'm completely careless. When I let the instincts take over.

I go to the oak tree at the furthest end of the forest. The clothes are buried a few centimetres under the soil. I stored them in a Primark bag. I don't shop at Primark. No, thank you. But I figured that if anyone happened to come across it (Very unlikely, but still) then they'd be more inclined to leave it alone than if it were a Ralph Lauren one. I can't help but be inwardly grateful to my past self for putting these here, even if it was over a year ago.

The room is deserted when I return. I'm grateful; I don't have the energy to be spiteful tonight. It's odd. I'm usually full of energy after filling up, but I don't think that Merwolf quite did the trick. Snow's laptop is open on his desk. He's left it on too. I consider spelling it shut again but I don't even have the energy to do that. And that prank is getting old these days.

My aunt Fiona's sent me a text.

"Your father tells me you're not coming home for Christmas. Make yourself useful for once and raid the mage's computer."

Raid the mage's computer?! Like I have the time.

"No, thanks. I'm planning on spending my time frolicking in the snow with my homework. You do it."

Fiona tries to call me after that. I don't answer it. I can almost picture her plotting and scheming. Stomping around her London flat with her Normal boyfriend in those terrible, banged up Doc Martens of hers.

She's given me an idea though. I decide to raid Snow's computer instead. It's his own fault for leaving it open.

I wiggle the mouse to wake it up. The screen flashes. To my delight, it hasn't locked itself. Instead it opens onto an Amazon wishlist. Perfumes, necklaces, bracelets…

"Well, Snow, what do you know…" I mutter, scrolling through the lists of girly products. I wonder what would happen if I ordered a ton of stuff on his account? I'm about to check out (I put 54 products into his basket) when my fun is spoiled by the entrance of the Mage's heir.

"Oi! What the hell are you doing?!" He yells. His northern accent gets stronger when he shouts. It's one of the reasons I provoke him. I don't turn around. Instead, I close the window and make squares with the cursor on his home screen.

"Using your laptop. You don't mind, do you? I assumed you wouldn't seeing as you left it open on your desk."

"Yeah." He huffs, storming over and snapping the laptop shut. "My desk." He smells like winter. An aura of chilly air hangs around him and the tip of his nose and his cheeks are tinged pink. He's been outside. I tilt my head to one side and look up at him from his desk chair, my hands folded innocently on my lap.

"Quite a Christmas list you've got here, Snow… Last minute presents for Agatha maybe?"

Snow's cheeks flush a little pinker.

"None. Of. Your. Buisness." He spits, shoving me off the chair. He reopens his laptop and punches his password in furiously. I smirk and go and sit on my bed as Snow scrolls through his computer history to see what I've been up to. He pauses.

"You were going to use my account to buy stuff?" His voice is quiet, deadly. I laugh and cross my legs, toying with my phone on the bed next to me.

"Thought I'd help you out with your disastrous present ideas." I remark, relishing in the lie. I can almost hear him grinding his teeth.

"You're such a bastard!" He yells, throwing his laptop lid down again. It's a wonder it doesn't crack. "I… Ugh… I fucking hate you." He fumes.

"Likewise."

Snow's lips have crushed into a hard, pink line and he's clenching his fists as he looks across at me. He hasn't tried to look this threatening since he discovered me in the Catacombs months ago. I think he's been holding back in case I kill him in his sleep. He doesn't know that I would never do that. It wouldn't be convinient for my plan to die at his hands. He looks like he might try now. I raise my eyebrows as a challenge.

"Are you going to hit me, Snow? Or are you simply going to stand there looking like a retard?" I emphasise that last one. We haven't had a proper fight in ages – I can tell he's absolutely spoiling for one. So am I, honestly, but I'm worried about getting too close to him in case I do something I regret. So instead I sigh, and languidly lie back onto the bed.

"Honestly, Snow. You're never going to impress a girl with gifts like those." I say. He snorts and flings his coat onto the floor.

"Don't act like you care."

"I don't. I was actually thinking that I might get her something myself. She's a very beautiful girl, you know. It would be a shame to disappoint her wouldn't it?" I'm doing it again. Teasing, playing, provoking. I can't help it; it's too much fun watching him turn deadly silent. His eyes widen and a familiar crease appears around his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't." He whispers in horror. "You wouldn't. Her parents hate your family. And what makes you think she'd want anything from you?"

I shrug in false nonchalance and say,

"It's the way she looks at me. I can tell. You should keep an eye on her, Snow, or she might just fall for me instead."

He's silent again, and I can't gather from his reaction whether he's going to beat me up or cry. It's neither. Instead, he shakes his head and meanders to the bathroom with a dismissive,

"Fuck off, Baz."

I don't know why that gets to me. A stab of pure hatred wrenches through my blood-filled stomach. I want to kill Snow in that moment. I hate him. I hate what he does to me. I hate how dismissive he is. I hate how he hates me. I hate him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I'm in the common room doing homework when Snow speaks to me next. There's no one about. Everyone has gone. The room is clean and warm and quiet. I was doing just fine when -
"Did you kill a merwolf, Baz?"

"Excuse me?"

Snow speaks to me from across the room. He's standing in the doorway and I hate that worried look in his eyes. Then I see what he's holding. It's my shirt… From the other night. It's stained red in places still, and tinged a dark, muddy brown.

"Where did you get that?" I snap, standing up. I'm vaguely aware of the papers flying off the table.

"It was by the moat… And there was a dead merwolf too. Washed up. I was just wondering, that's all."

"Well, that's not mine." I lie. He knows it's a lie. He always knows when I lie. I've never cared until now. I reply too quickly and my breathing is faster. Snow's expression of worry only deepens. He leaves the shirt that I'll only throw in the bin by the door.

"Okay." He says slowly, walking towards the staircase to our room. "Whatever you say, Baz."