Chapter 3 Iris #2
"Information, mostly. Your grandmother's library is legendary.
If there are historical records of anything like this, they'd be here.
And..." She hesitates. "We'd like you to attend our gathering tomorrow night.
At the inn. Just the local mages and their familiars.
Compare notes, see if there's a pattern. "
"I'm not really..." I start to say I'm not really a mage, not like they mean, but that's not fair to her. "My magic is different from my grandmother's. I'm not sure how much help I'll be."
"Different how?"
"Kitchen magic. Hearth and home. I make salves and tinctures. I can't throw fireballs."
To my surprise, Thea grins. "Good. Magnus has enough firepower for all of us combined, and he's insufferable about it. We could use someone practical." She stands, draining her tea. "Tomorrow night, seven o'clock. Just come, listen, tell us if you've noticed anything with your bond. That's all."
I walk her to the door, and she pauses on the threshold.
"Your grandmother was brilliant," she says quietly. "But she was also terrifying. I think a lot of us are relieved that you're... not."
"Not brilliant or not terrifying?"
"Not terrifying." Her smile is gentle. "Give yourself credit for that."
She's gone before I can figure out how to respond.
I spend the rest of the day exploring.
The library is as overwhelming as I feared: hundreds of books, most about combat magic, military strategy, and what I can only describe as "ways to kill people efficiently." But there's a section on bond magic that I pull down and stack on a reading table for later.
The greenhouse attached to the back of the house is a pleasant surprise.
It's warded against the cold, which means things are actually growing.
Not well, they've been neglected for weeks, but growing.
I recognize most of the herbs, some medicinal plants, a few things that are definitely poisonous but probably useful in the right context.
I could work with this. If I stay.
The thought catches me off-guard. Am I considering staying?
By the time evening falls, I've made a full circuit of the house. Committed the layout to memory. Found the cellar door (locked, heavily warded, absolutely not going down there). Started a mental list of things that need fixing, updating, replacing.
I make myself dinner in that perfect kitchen: soup from the preserved vegetables, fresh bread, cheese. Simple food, but I put intention into it. Warmth. Comfort. Home. I need it now more than ever and I suspect Cadeon does too.
The magic hums through me as I cook, and when I eat, I feel it settle. This is what I'm good at. Not battle magic or commanding familiars.
This.
I'm washing up when I feel a spike of cold terror through the bond that makes me drop the bowl I'm holding.
It shatters on the slate floor, but I'm already running.
It's full dark outside now. He'd be awake. Active. But this feeling through the bond...
What is it?
The sound leads me upstairs, to a hallway I haven't explored yet. One of the doors is slightly ajar, and I can hear... I’m not sure.
God, what is that sound?
It's between a growl and a scream, something feral and agonized. I push the door open carefully.
The room is bare. No furniture except a narrow bed. No decorations. A single window showing the dark forest beyond. A room for existing and nothing else.
Cadeon is on the bed, but he's not resting. He's in the grip of something, not sleep, but maybe whatever passes for sleep in vampires. His face is contorted in a way that's almost unrecognizable, all the careful control stripped away, leaving only raw terror and rage.
"No," he's saying, over and over. "No, please, I can't..."
I've never heard a vampire beg before. Not that I’ve met many over the years. They tend to keep to themselves.
"Cadeon." I keep my voice low, non-threatening. Don't approach. Don't touch. He's dangerous like this, I can feel it. "Cadeon, you're here. You're at the cottage. You're safe."
He doesn't hear me. His hands claw at the bed, and I realize with horror that he's reliving something, trapped in some memory he can't escape.
"Stand down," I try, because maybe he needs a command. "You're released from duty. Stand down."
Nothing. The thrashing gets worse.
I do the only thing I can think of. I sit on the floor a few feet from the bed and start talking.
"It's okay. You're at the cottage. Ashwood Cottage.
It's snowing outside. I made soup for dinner: not my best work, honestly.
I'm not used to the stove yet. Tomorrow I'm going to the village to meet the other mages.
There's a healer named Thea, she seems nice.
She has a familiar who's a wolf shifter.
Can you imagine? A wolf in your living room.
I bet the furniture situation is complicated. "
I'm babbling, but it doesn't matter. My voice seems to anchor him somehow.
"The greenhouse needs work. Plants everywhere are half-dead, which is just sad.
But I can fix them. I'm good at that. Growing things.
Healing things." I wrap my arms around my knees.
"I'm not good at commanding people. I don't know how to give orders.
Grandmother's journal says the bond needs constant reinforcement, but I don't even know what that means. "
His breathing is starting to slow.
"I read about you today. About what she made you do. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." My voice cracks. "I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to help you. But I'm going to try, okay? I promise I'm going to try."
He goes still.
Then, slowly, his eyes open.
For a moment, he just stares at the ceiling, breathing hard. Then his gaze slides to me, sitting on the floor like an idiot.
"You're here." His voice is hoarse, raw.
"Yeah."
"How long?"
"I'm not sure. A while."
He closes his eyes, and the shame on his face is devastating. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"Probably not," I agree. "But I did. So." I stand, brushing off my pants. "I'm going to get you some tea. Do you drink tea?"
"I don't... I don't need..."
"I didn't ask if you need it. I asked if you drink it."
Long pause. "...Sometimes."
"Good. Wait here."
I flee to the kitchen, hands shaking as I prepare the tea. I add valerian root and chamomile, calming herbs, though I'm not sure they work on vampires. I pour intention into it anyway. *Peace. Rest. Safety.*
When I return, he's sitting up, back against the wall above his bed, looking like he wishes he could disappear into it.
I hand him the mug. He takes it but doesn't drink, just holds it like he's stealing warmth from the ceramic.
I sit on the floor again. Not on the bed, because that feels too intimate. But close enough that he knows I'm not running away.
"Does this happen often?" I ask quietly.
"Most nights. I thought coming up here, sleeping in a proper bed, might help. I didn’t want to scare you."
"The nightmares happen most nights?"
"Memories." He stares at the tea. "They feel the same, though."
"That must be exhausting."
"Vampires don't tire the way..." He stops. Looks at the tea. "Yes. It's exhausting."
We sit in silence. Minutes pass. He takes one cautious sip of tea, then another.
"Don't tell anyone." His voice is so quiet I almost miss it. "Please."
"I won't. Who am I going to tell?"
"You're not afraid of me?" He looks up at me. "After seeing that?"
I think about it honestly. "No. You weren't trying to hurt me. You were hurting."
"I could have. If you'd touched me."
"But I didn't. And you didn't." I meet his eyes. "You're not the monster you think you are, Cadeon."
He looks away. "You don't know what I've done."
"You're right. I don't. But I know some of what was done to you." I stand, collecting my own mug. "I should let you rest. Or, you know. Whatever helps after something like that."
"Iris."
I pause at the door.
"Thank you. For..." He gestures vaguely. "This."
"You're welcome."
I leave him there, holding his tea in an empty room, and go back downstairs to clean up the broken bowl.
The shattered ceramic has scattered across the kitchen floor in my mad scramble for his tea. I sweep it up carefully, my hands steadier now, and finish the washing up I'd abandoned.
Through the bond, I can feel him. Still awake. Still afraid. But maybe, just slightly, less alone.
It's only when I'm finally climbing the stairs to my own room, hours later, that I let myself think about what I've taken on.
A house full of weapons. A vampire with two centuries of trauma. A bond I don't know how to maintain. And a mystery about why bonds are weakening that I'm supposed to help solve.
I fall asleep wondering how I'm going to fix any of this, and whether I'm strong enough to even try.