The three women gathered in the living room...
And the three of them like that in that foul moods, the air was already thickening with tension.
Nadia stood near the window, crossing her arms beneath her full breasts. The tight black top she wore clung to her heavy chest and narrow waist. Her short blonde hair framed a pale, beautiful face currently twisted in disdain. As the oldest of the three by far, she carried herself with the loud, big arrogance of someone who had seen centuries.
Talia paced the length of the small room like a predator confined too long. Her long, thick brunette hair swayed with every sharp turn. The leather jacket sat open over a cropped top that left the firm, toned plane of her stomach exposed. Her golden eyes glowed with barely restrained aggression, and the curves of her big, thick hips and thighs flexed with restless energy each time she moved.
Cora remained seated on the edge of the couch for now, setting her back so straight it looked painful. Her full, bouncing wavy hair spilled over one shoulder. The dark blouse she wore dipped low enough to show the soft upper part of her breasts, and the fitted skirt hugged the round shape of her small hips. Purple sparks flickered faintly at her fingertips whenever her temper rose.
"What do we do with him?" Talia finally stopped pacing. Her voice was rough. "That thing in there is not our husband."
Nadia’s red eyes narrowed. "Am I the only smart person in this room? We kill him." Nadia said and shrugged with a dramatic gesture as if to say she didn’t understand why they weren’t thinking that.
"We’ve already spilled blood once. We finish it cleanly." she added, her voice louder now.
Cora shook her head in disagreement. "That’s reckless, even for you two."
Nadia turned her head slowly, looking down at the younger witch. "Watch your tone, little girl. I’ve walked this earth two hundred years. I don’t take advice from a witch who still needs ancestral notes and luck to perform a basic ritual."
Cora’s eyes flashed. "And yet here you are, a two-hundred-year-old vampire who can’t even bite. Ordinary baring of fangs gives you a fucking nosebleed. Please, spare me the age lecture, Nadia." Cora eyed her scornfully then hissed.
Talia let out a sharp laugh. "She’s got a point, you know. You’re not exactly the apex predator these days."
Nadia’s head snapped toward the werewolf. "Shut your mouth, mutt. Are you even supposed to have a voice in this gathering at all? After what your kind did?" She slammed the words at Talia as if they could physically hurt her. And it seemed they did just that.
Talia stepped forward, her chest rising almost impossibly, with anger. The movement made her full breasts press against the tight fabric of her top.
"Say that again, say that again, you bloody vampire. Wasn’t it your bloodsucking ancestors who stood by and watched while the original witch burned." she snapped at Nadia, her nostrils scrunched in disgust.
"Girl, it was your kind who caused the mess in the first place because he couldn’t keep the tiny thing in between his legs, in one place and brough the curse upon us all. "Don’t rewrite history just because you have a temper and a big mouth." Nadia shot back.
Cora stood up, her voice rising to cut through the noise.
"Both of you need to stop. Blaming each other changes nothing. That man in the bedroom is a problem we have to deal with now. If we kill the body, we might lose any chance of getting our husband’s soul back." Cora pointed out.
Talia turned on her. "Listen to the little witch trying to play peacemaker. You’ve been useless since the curse hit. No real magic, just sparks and attitude."
Cora glared at Talia, her jaw clenching; "Yet, I’m the only one in this room still capable of thinking past her next tantrum. You two are so busy measuring whose race betrayed who that you can’t see we’re out of options."
Nadia’s lip curled, her fangs briefly visible before she pulled them back. "You self-righteous little bitch! What exactly do you think gives you the right to lecture me?"
"I think the fact that neither of you can use your powers without bleeding gives me that right," Cora snapped.
That did it.
"Let’s see if I won’t make you bleed!"
Talia moved first. She grabbed a thick handful of Cora’s wavy hair and yanked hard. Cora cried out and swung a wild slap that caught Talia across the mouth. Nadia stepped in with a cold, vicious shove that sent both women stumbling into the coffee table. The table scraped loudly across the floor.
What followed was ugly and chaotic.
Talia’s strong hands twisted in Nadia’s short blonde hair while Nadia raked her nails down the werewolf’s exposed midriff. Cora, refusing to be sidelined, grabbed the back of Nadia’s top and pulled, the fabric stretching tight across the vampire’s heavy breasts. Curses flew between them;
"mutt," "leech," "powerless witch," "flat-chested hypocrite," "arrogant whore" each one uglier than the last.
They crashed into the wall, then the couch, then each other again. Hair was pulled, skin was scratched, breasts heaved with angry, ragged breaths. It was no longer about deciding what to do with man in the bedroom. It was a century and a half of frustration, jealousy, and racial resentment exploding at once.
The noise was loud enough to carry clearly through the thin walls of the apartment.
~~~~~~~~~
Inside the bedroom, Tristan sat on the edge of the bed with the cracked phone in his hand, staring at the message that still glowed on the screen.
**Don’t forget the agreement.**
He was trying to think about what the message could mean, who might have sent it, and how much trouble the previous owner of this body had left behind. But concentration was impossible.
The shouting from the living room was relentless.
He could hear every accusation, every curse, every crash of furniture. As a man raised in the structured quiet of a royal palace, the noise grated against his nerves. He had always done his best thinking in silence. This was the opposite of silence.
He told himself they would tire eventually. A few more minutes and the fight would burn itself out. Then he would be able to think properly.
He waited several more minutes but the fight continued.
Finally Tristan stood up, his jaw clenched so tight. He could neither think nor rest under these conditions. If no one else was going to stop the chaos, he would.
He unlocked the door and stepped out. Finding his way into the living room wasn’t hard thanks to the noise, he simply followed the direction.
"What in the world is this disorder?" Tristan exclaimed, his brows furrowing in horror.
The scene that greeted him was pure disorder. The coffee table was skewed. A chair had been knocked over. Nadia, Talia, and Cora were still tangled in a furious, ugly fight, their hair being pulled, a set of full breasts hitting another as they cursed each other.
Tristan cleared his throat and raised his voice in the calm tone he had once used to settle arguments between court officials.
"Ladies. This is enough. Delicate women should not be brawling like common street fighters. There are far more civilized ways to settle disagreements. If you would all just stop and-"
None of them even looked at him.
Instead, a plastic cup flew across the room, missed its intended target, and smacked squarely against Tristan’s forehead.
He blinked, stunned.
Lysander’s delighted laughter rang in his head.
"Oh, that was beautiful. Your gentle gentleman approach is truly inspiring, Host. Clearly very effective."
[Ding!]
[New Mission Issued]
[Settle the fight within 30 seconds.]
Reward: 50 System Points + $100
Failure Penalty: Continuous mechanical noise in the Host’s ears until morning.
Tristan’s eye twitched. "How exactly am I supposed to settle that in thirty seconds?"
Lysander’s voice turned syrup-sweet and wicked.
"I hate having to teach an intelligent man everything. Use that brain of yours. Or... you could simply grab one of them by the ass, pin her to the wall, and kiss her until the other two stop out of pure shock."
Tristan huffed in disbelief. But when he stared at the three brawling women, he realized that indeed, an ordinary practical approach wouldn’t stop this fight.
The glowing timer in his vision was already counting down.
28...
27...
26...
His mind raced on what to do.
15...
14...
13...
Lysander hummed patiently in the back of his mind.
10...
9...
8...
Tristan’s hands curled into fists.
5...
4...
His legs finally moved and what he did was...