Saturday dawned slow and gray, wrapped in a dull light that barely managed to seep through the dormitory curtains. Kara sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring into nothing. Her body still ached faintly where she'd been slammed against the wall the night before, but the physical pain was insignificant compared to the storm raging in her mind.
On the bed beside her, Natalie groaned as she tried to sit up, rubbing her neck.
"Ugh… I feel like I got hit by a truck," Natalie complained, her voice thick with sleep. She glanced at Kara and sighed dramatically. "And you've got that look of someone trying to solve a quantum physics equation."
Kara blinked, pulled back into the present.
"I just… I can't stop thinking, Nat. About what happened. About her."
Natalie tossed her pillow aside and got up, heading to the mini-fridge for a bottle of water.
"Okay, I'll admit it. It was bizarre. Like, Twilight-level bizarre. But hey — we're alive. No broken bones, no scars. Let's focus on the positives: we apparently have a personal gothic bodyguard now."
Kara couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.
"She's not our bodyguard."
"Oh yeah?" Natalie scoffed, taking a long drink. "Because she wiped the floor with those guys like they were rag dolls. Maybe she's a secret agent. Or a ninja. Or… I don't know, an X-Man who escaped Xavier's school."
Natalie's attempt at humor worked, at least a little. The absurdity of it softened the terror of the previous night, pushing it slightly farther away.
"Ninja…" Kara laughed, shaking her head. "Only you, Nat."
"What matters is that we're okay." Natalie sat on the edge of Kara's bed and took her hand. "But seriously… the way she looked at you afterward? That wasn't a bodyguard's look. That was someone who cares. A lot."
Kara felt her cheeks warm.
"You really think so?"
"I think you should stop theorizing in this room and go talk to her. Say thank you. I don't know — try to find out whether she's from Krypton or Gotham."
Kara inhaled deeply. Natalie was right. She needed to see Alice in daylight. Needed to know whether last night was real, or just a fear-induced hallucination.
She found Alice that afternoon exactly where she expected: the botanical greenhouse, the only place on campus that felt as out of time as Alice herself.
The greenhouse was a Victorian refuge of glass and wrought iron, filled with towering ferns and rare orchids. The air was warm and humid, rich with the scent of damp earth. Alice stood before a row of white lilies, her back to the entrance. Even without the red coat, dressed instead in a black long-sleeved shirt and dark pants — her presence dominated the space.
Kara approached slowly. This time, she didn't try to announce herself. She wanted to see if Alice would notice.
She did.
Before Kara could take a third step, Alice spoke without turning.
"You should be resting. Post-traumatic stress can be exhausting."
"I'm fine," Kara replied, stopping beside her. "Because of you."
Alice finally turned. In the greenhouse's filtered light, she looked even paler — almost translucent. Dark shadows lingered beneath her eyes, as if last night's display of power had exacted a price.
"I did what was necessary," Alice said, turning back to the flowers. She brushed a petal with a tenderness that felt absurdly at odds with the violence Kara had witnessed in the alley.
"'Necessary' doesn't explain how you did it, Alice." Kara was done with half-truths. "You threw a man who had to weigh at least two hundred pounds with one hand. You moved faster than my eyes could track."
Alice exhaled softly.
"Adrenaline does strange things to the human body, Kara. Haven't you heard stories of mothers lifting cars to save their children? Fear is powerful fuel."
"That wasn't fear," Kara countered, stepping closer, invading Alice's space. "I saw your eyes. You weren't afraid. You were… completely in control."
Alice froze.
She turned fully toward Kara, and the closeness sent Kara's heart racing.
"And what do you want me to say?" Alice asked quietly. "That I'm a freak? That you should be afraid of me instead of seeking me out in isolated greenhouses?"
"I want the truth," Kara said, holding her gaze despite the tremor in her legs. "I'm not afraid of you. Last night, when you saved me — I felt safer than I ever have in my life. But I need to understand."
For a brief moment, Alice's expression softened, the cold mask cracking. She lifted her hand, hesitating, and for an instant Kara thought she might touch her face.
Instead, Alice gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from Kara's eyes.
The touch was brief. Cold. Electric.
"Kara… there are things in this world that don't need to be explained to be felt," Alice said, her voice heavy with ancient loneliness.
"I am different. I always have been. And being close to me… draws shadows. Last night proved that."
"I don't care about the shadows," Kara insisted.
"But I do." Alice stepped back, restoring the distance between them. "I can't be what you want me to be. And I can't give you the answers you're looking for without putting us both in danger."
Alice glanced toward the greenhouse exit.
"I have to go. There are places I need to be before the sun sets completely."
"You're running away again," Kara said — not angrily.
"I'm protecting what little peace I have left," Alice replied softly. "And yours." She paused at the glass door, her silhouette framed by the gray light outside. "Take care, Kara. Please."
Then she was gone, moving with that same fluid, silent grace — leaving Kara alone among orchids and unanswered questions.
That night, Kara's dorm room was drowned in shadow, lit only by the bluish glow of her laptop screen. Natalie was out with her boyfriend, leaving Kara alone with her thoughts.
She tried to work on a history essay, but the words on the screen refused to make sense. Her mind returned obsessively to the details.
Skin cold as marble, even on warm days.
The inhuman strength in the alley.
The impossible speed on the staircase.
The absence of visible breath when they sat side by side.
The way Alice avoided food in the cafeteria.
Her aversion to harsh daylight.
Kara shoved the books aside and opened a new browser tab. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. It felt ridiculous. Like cheap fiction.
But as Sherlock Holmes once said, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
She typed:
"Superhuman strength, pale cold skin, extreme speed, aversion to sunlight, does not eat human food…"
The results flashed instantly.
Myths. Folklore. Urban legends. Rare blood disorders.
And one word that appeared again and again, screaming from the screen.
Vampire.
Kara let out a short, nervous laugh.
"No… this is insane. Vampires don't exist. That's Bram Stoker. Nosferatu."
Still, she clicked the first link.
She read about Eastern European myths.
About the Strigoi.
About modern accounts from people who swore they'd seen beings who did not age.
She remembered Alice's eyes in the alley —pupils blown wide, swallowing the iris.
That metallic scent that always clung to her.
It wasn't just metal.
It was blood.
A chill crawled up Kara's spine, raising goosebumps along her arms. She snapped the laptop shut, as if she could trap the truth inside it. The room suddenly felt colder, the shadows in the corners longer.
She leaned back in her chair, heart pounding.
Reason screamed that it was impossible.
But instinct… instinct whispered that she had just solved the riddle.
Alice wasn't an X-Man.
She wasn't a ninja.
Alice was a monster.
And the most terrifying thought wasn't that.
What truly frightened Kara, as she stared into the darkness of her room, was the realization that, even knowing what Alice might be...
She didn't want to run.
She wanted to get closer.