Irene closed her eyes, focusing intently as she conjured the images of Cyrus and Gabriel. She focused on the very idea of a vampire, and what it was about them that was frightful. Her heart raced as that helpless feeling stirred her stomach into a flutter. She slowly opened her eyes, staring at the candle that flickered delicately before her, watching the wispy tendrils of smoke drift up through the air. A nearby open window breezed it into a writhing blue coil. Irene worked on wreathing dried flowers and berry-laden mistletoe among hawthorn branches as she imagined a feeling of safety and peace.

Irene recalled what Joseph had told her when they met up for the transaction. He was happy to give her the hawthorn, but arranged payment for the mistletoe and the verbena. As he shook her hand, he looked her in the eyes and said, "It's important as you weave your protection talisman that your intention is clear. First think of what's frightening you, and then express your desire for protection and safety. You can do this with a prayer or incantation or just with strong, focused thoughts. And make sure you hold on to a thought of safety as you hang them up around your home. Oh! I find having a candle really helps set the mood." Irene barely managed to not roll her eyes. But given some thought, she decided she might as well take his instructions seriously.

It wasn't easy for Irene to keep her skeptical thoughts from invading, and to instead channel her thoughts into the task at hand. She never would believe she would attempt to cast a spell in her life. Yet, here she was, standing in a candle-lit room, hanging foliage above her window. Once she had secured the garland around her window, she closed it, as a final act symbolic of shutting the evil out. Irene grabbed her cup of push-pins, an inelegant method to affix the talismen, and left her room.

Irene finished by putting what supplies she had left together into another garland which she decided to wreath on the outside of various windows in her house, but left the front door accessible to Cyrus. She was sure the next inevitable rainfall would probably ruin them, but in the meantime she did actually feel safer, in spite of her skepticism.

Just as Irene was vacuuming herbaceous debris out of the carpet, her father came home. He stood behind her, staring at the display above her door in silence, until she turned off the vacuum.

"That's um... new. Doing some redecorating?" Her father asked, rubbing the back of his thick neck as he looked at the twisted branches and faded scarlet blooms.

"Yes," Irene responded, offering no further explanation.

"Smells kind of lemony," her father remarked, as if trying to find something nice to say about the change, but Irene could tell he did not like it. He flashed her a questioning look.

"It does," Irene responded. "I am cheering myself up by trying something different."

"Ah." He squinted up at the dead plants. "And this cheers you up? It looks a bit... funeral."

"In a way," Irene answered as she began gathering up the vacuum cord.

"Well, if this, uh, well if you like it, then I guess I'll just get used to it." Her bemused father turned and left, muttering to himself. Irene just looked up at the finished result. Maybe it was all mischief, but to her, it felt like doing something, rather than being dragged along on whatever sordid ride Cyrus was driving. It felt like she was taking back control. It felt satisfying. Maybe that was the real magic.

"Vervain, really?" Irene's thoughts were shattered at the sound of that voice. She'd been sitting in her room, working on some homework later that evening. But she'd left her bedroom door ajar to allow Silver easy access. She stared at the door, half expecting her efforts to come to naught and Cyrus to push in. After a moment of silence, nothing happened. She smiled, and remained where she was.

"Just an added precaution," Irene responded.

"The mistletoe would have been enough," grumbled Cyrus's voice through the door.

"Is there a problem with it?" Irene asked, setting down her pen.

"No... no. No problem. I just know from personal experience that vervain is useless against va..." He cut himself off, aware that Mr. Locklyn's bedroom was just down the hall. "...very bad luck."

Irene shrugged, not saying anything more. She listened for the creak of the floor to notify her of his departure. Finally feeling at ease, Irene finished up her homework, and crawled into bed.

The following days were uneventful, to Irene's relief. Her father was working a bit later than usual, but was usually back just after sunset. Cyrus was usually out the door as soon as it was safe for him to do so. This worked out well for Irene, as she wasn't keen on her father and Cyrus having that chat. There was no telling what would come out of Cyrus's mouth. Irene spent more time in her room in the evenings, where she was safe. For the first time, Irene felt like she had a chance to really breathe.

"Oh, Irene! I'm glad I bumped into you! Might I say you are looking lovely! Those shadows under your eyes have all but cleared away!" Irene was stopped just outside the library by Joseph's large frame. She was heading in for some peace and quiet during her lunch, and evidently, he was on his way out.

"Hello, Joseph," Irene responded, unsure whether or not to thank him as the compliment seemed just a touch backhanded.

"I can see the spell is at least doing wonders for your sleep," Joseph said. He then realized he was blocking the library doorway and he stepped out and positioned himself by the wall.

"Thus far, I haven't had anymore, uh, psychic attacks," Irene responded, the words seeming so strange coming out of her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she saw some students walking by who gave her and Joseph a quick glance, and then began snickering. Irene frowned at them, but they weren't worth a second thought'.

"Thus far. Ha. Yes, I'm glad it's been helping." If he heard the snickering, he didn't bat an eye. "You know, Irene, if there's anything else I can help you with, just send me an e-mail."

"That's very kind of you, Joseph." While it had been Irene's intention to stay and speak with him further, she found herself at a loss on how to continue the conversation. She'd been so content with the friends she'd made when she was younger, she realized she had not had a lot of practice making new acquaintances. Irene looked Joseph up and down, and decided to just plunge into a personal question. "I always thought people who wore lots of black were gloomy, but you're not. So... what does it mean to you?"

Joseph's eyes brightened, and he seemed amused by the question. "Not a lot of people ask, just label me and move on. So, thank you for asking!" Joseph said cheerfully. Irene nodded, continuously surprised by the odd mix of self-assurance and openness exhibited by her peer. "Well, I used to be gloomy. I didn't fit in, I had health problems, I was afraid of a lot of things," Joseph explained, lacing his fingers together as he reflected. "But then I learned about the beauty of both life and death and everything in nature. So when I first began wearing black it was how I was expressing myself, how sad I felt. But now, like, it's how I express that I am at peace with things. That I see the beauty even in the darkness."

Irene took everything Joseph said in, sorting it out and processing it through her own filters. Then she began to wonder if Joseph would see the beauty in vampires, real vampires, as well. Or if he'd find them as abominable as she did. "You say most people mistake your black appearance as something darker. I did. Wouldn't it be better to express your happiness by appearing happy and bright?"

"But I do express joy. I express that with smiling, and wishing people a lovely day. And with these, I'll have an even brighter smile," Joseph said, pointing to his mouth and putting on a grand grin, exposing the many braces adhered to his teeth. "I still get sad and afraid, and these clothes comfort me. They also look good on me." Joseph said with a limp-wrist accent. "And what about you, Irene? Your clothes are so... unremarkable, that you don't tell anyone anything about yourself."

Irene looked down at her white shirt, blue jeans, and navy jacket. No mottos. No prints. Just solid colours. But that was what Irene always liked. It was also cheap. She often picked up clothes off the discount rack. Her shoes, however, she never skimped on. Irene wiggled her toes looking at her white sneakers. "I don't really like drawing attention to myself."

"And why's that?" Joseph asked. Irene looked up. Joseph had been open with her, thus it seemed only fair to be open with him in return. But Irene couldn't. She deep down knew the reason. Irene glanced around, adjusting her bag strap which had begun to slip down her shoulder.

"I guess I just don't want to be bullied." It seemed like a reasonable explanation. One that could be accepted and not bear further scrutiny. If she said she didn't know or didn't want to talk about it, she he might keep prying. So it was always better to just give people something they could understand.

"Aw," Joseph said with a sympathetic pout. "Yes, I get that. Kids can be cruel. I'll be glad when I graduate."

"Me too," Irene responded. And she wondered if she'd even make it to graduation. Hoisting up her bag again she looked up at Joseph. "And to graduate, I really need to get this work done. It's been nice talking, though,"

"Of course! Have a wonderful rest of the day, Irene," Joseph said kindly.

"You too, Joseph."

It had been a while since Irene had visited Jordan. She kept worrying that she'd distress him more than comfort him, but she also worried the distance would hurt him just as much. Plucking up her courage to brave the hospital yet again, Irene hopped on a bus straight after school.

When Irene arrived at Jordan's room, she saw Mrs. Fisher sitting beside him. Not wanting to interrupt, she turned to leave. But she did not vanish before Jordan had noticed her and called to her. Unsure what else to do, Irene turned and faced them both. She had not spoken with Mrs. Fisher since the unfortunate dinner.

"Irene. Please, come in," Mrs. Fisher beckoned, her voice warm and inviting, but her eyes a bit watery. Irene felt uncomfortable, but could not flee now. She walked over, and Mrs. Fisher stood up, offering her chair. Irene shook her head, declining the seat. "Oh, do, I was just leaving."

"Oh. Thank you," Irene said quietly as she sat down. Mrs. Fisher placed her hands on the back of the chair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, peanut."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Mom..." Jordan protested plaintively. But both of them laughed, although Jordan's laugh was faded and worn, while Mrs. Fisher's laugh was tainted by worry.

"Goodbye, Irene," Mrs. Fisher said. She lingered, as if she wanted to say more, but then she just picked up her purse and walked out. Once they were mostly alone, Irene looked to Jordan.

"She still calls you that?" Irene asked playfully.

"Only when she's being really clingy," Jordan responded with a half smile. "I don't blame her." Jordan frowned. "The doctor says my WBC is back where it should be, but I'm still getting symptoms, so I'll be having another CT scan." Irene said nothing, and just took Jordan's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed back, and for once, it felt strong. "What's new with you, Irene? Merle said that you've been making new friends."

"Merle's been to visit you a lot lately, hasn't she?" Irene reflected.

"You know how lonely she gets. And she thinks you are mad at her, so she's been giving you space," Jordan responded, sitting up. Irene leaned over, helping to adjust his pillows for his comfort.

"Hmmm Merle giving me space. That's unlike her. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?" Irene asked with a small smile. Jordan laughed, but it quickly turned into coughing. Irene held out a tissue, ready for when he needed it. His faced turned red and his whole body heaved as he worked whatever plagued him out of his lungs. When it had subsided, he grabbed the tissue and nodded a 'thank you' to Irene. "Did you get another infection? Here in the hospital?"

"No. It's just that being inactive so long has been hard on my lungs, or so the doctors say," Jordan responded. Irene passed him his water, and he took a few guarded sips.

"I guess that makes sense. I was getting winded easier after my stay, and I wasn't in here as long as you," Irene responded, punctuating it with a sigh.

"Did you ever resolve the uh, bedbug infestation?" Jordan asked. Irene blinked a few moments before she realized what he was talking about. A nurse walked in to quickly check his machine.

"How are you doing Jordan?" the nurse asked.

"A bit winded," Jordan responded.

"Any faintness or nausea?" the nurse asked, brandishing a thermometer. "I'm just going to pop this under your tongue."

"I know the drill," Jordan said, opening his mouth. He then looked at Irene and did a double eyebrow raise, prompting her to answer his question.

"Oh, uh, I've rid my room of pests, but the basement is still a problem." Irene responded. Jordan nodded, and they both went silent, listening to the beeps of the machines and the scribble of the nurse updating his chart. When the thermometer beeped, she took a look and scribbled something down.

"Looking good Jordan. I'll be back in an hour with some medication," the nurse said. And as abruptly as she'd arrived, she disappeared.

"I guess your father really had the wool pulled over his eyes, didn't he?" Jordan asked.

"I think he's been outright bound and blindfolded." Irene huffed. "I've since realized that Cyrus can make people... I don't know... dazed and impressionable. I guess it's like hypnotism. But I think he still needs to tell them a believable story. I don't think he can outright control people. But he's done something so that my father believes he can be trusted." Irene folded her arms.

"That's not good, Irene. Has he... done that to you?" Jordan asked, looking very tense.

"A little. He's forced me into a calm state, but it doesn't seem to last long," Irene responded, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know why it seemed to work better on my father."

"Well it's a relief that it doesn't work so well on you, but scary that it does work well on your father. Have you given any further thought to seeking help from the police? I know you worry that they'd think you are crazy, but if you could bring, I don't know, like a blood sample or something, it probably would show up unusual or something."

"And how would I get a blood sample from Cyrus?" Irene asked.

"Well... he sleeps during the day, doesn't he?" Jordan asked as he shifted his position.

"Yes, but I wouldn't want to wake him, especially in an attempt to steal his blood. He probably would hurt me," Irene said, tapping her fingers on her upper arm. "Anyway, if his blood came back normal I'd get in trouble for wasting their time."

"It was just a thought," Jordan responded.

Irene nodded, looking down. "I know. And I'm glad you keep thinking up solutions. As it is, I've resorted to witchcraft."

Jordan stared at her a good long while. Then he laughed. It was, to Irene, a beautiful sound, until it ended again in a sputter of coughs. This fit wasn't as bad as the last, and she passed him his water yet again. "Thanks." Sip. "I never thought I'd hear you say that seriously. What did you do? Brew a potion?"

"No. I just lit a candle and hung some plants around my room," Irene responded.

"That doesn't sound too outlandish. Or magical," Jordan responded, seeming mildly disappointed. Irene snorted and smiled.

"Yes, but it's mistletoe, verbena, and hawthorn."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of you hanging mistletoe up with a strange man in your house," Jordan said, going from amused to apprehensive.

"But it's been working. He doesn't enter my room anymore."

Jordan's hands gripped his blanket tight and he looked at Irene. "He's been in your room?" Irene froze. She forgot that she had not mentioned that detail before. all the things she'd been hiding from Jordan flooded to her mind. Should she tell him everything? But seeing how tense he was getting, she worried it would worsen his condition.

"Yes. Only a few times. It's not like I invite him in, he just has boundary issues," Irene responded guardedly. No. Jordan needed to be stronger before she could tell him everything. Jordan stared at her for a moment, but slowly, his hands unclenched and he leaned back into his pillows, coughing once or twice.

"I swear, when I get out of this hospital..."

"...You will continue to take care of yourself. Don't worry. I'm handling things," Irene reassured. Jordan stared at her searchingly, and Irene did not let her concern show.

"So the mistletoe and the, the... those other plants, really keep vampires away?" Jordan asked in wonder.

"They seem to. I don't know for how long, though, or if the spell needs any maintenance," Irene admitted after a moment.

"And when Merle mentioned you'd been hanging around Joseph..." Jordan began.

"It was because I required his help," Irene explained. Jordan sighed, bringing up his knees.

"I just wish I could be the one to help. Instead I'm stuck in here, helpless while you go through this, alone," Jordan lamented. Irene took his hand again, this time holding it with both of hers.

"But I'm not alone." She'd never felt more alone in her life, but Irene would say anything to alleviate Jordan's anguish. Almost anything. "I have you. I have my father." Irene laughed lightly, trying to break the tension. "I have Silver." Jordan tried to chorus her laughter, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. "Truly. She's been on my side from the beginning. She's always hissing at Cyrus, and even attacked him once."

"He didn't hurt her, did he?" Jordan asked, a little surprised.

"No, no," Irene said, adding a laugh which put Jordan at ease. "He just scruffed her until she squirmed free and ran off in high dudgeon." Jordan laughed more naturally and managed to keep his coughing to a minimum.

Jordan cleared his throat and smiled. "I can see that. She's friendly, but has that classic cat pride." He sighed with the relief of thinking on cheerier topics. "She's a good girl."

"She is. She really is. I'm glad Dad got her for me. Though if I get into UVic, I probably won't be able to bring her with me. I doubt student housing would allow pets." It was reassuring to talk about the future rather than to fear it.

"Yeah..." Jordan said quietly, but his gaze went distant as he slipped into his own thoughts. Irene let the silence wash over them for a moment, then reached out to hold his hand again. After several minutes had passed, hazel eyes looked into golden brown. "My... parents are glad I have friends, but..."

"But...?" Irene asked, her mind racing back to the way she'd left things with the Fishers.

"My father thinks we should break it off. My mother likes you, of course, but even she thinks it'd be kinder to you if we were to just decide to be friends." Jordan said, looking down at his blanketed lap.

Irene was silent for a moment, digesting this. He tentatively lifted his gaze to study her, but then looked down again. Irene did not remove her hand from his, but her grip on him lessened. "And... what do you think, Jordan? What do you want?"

"I know I said I wanted us to get married once we're adults." Jordan said, still not looking at Irene. "I was a bit disappointed at first when you didn't up and agree. But I know you, and I knew you wouldn't. Not without carefully thinking it out."

"That's who I am." Oftentimes she was proud of looking before leaping, but as of late, she has felt herself stalled and stunted under the burden of thinking. She waited for Jordan to continue saying what was on his mind, doing her best not to prod him or put words in his mouth.

"The thing is... I might never fully recover. The craniotomy was successful, but they're worried another bleed may have started."

"But you're doing so much better!"

"Yeah, in some ways. But you're seeing me on one of my good days. So I need to tell you, while I can think straight, that I agree with my mother." Jordan sniffed, bringing up a slender wrist to wipe at his nose. Emotion caused his voice to crack as he continued. "She's spelled it out to me that I might be a burden, and well, my family are happy to take that on, but you're young and have a life ahead of you and I might be a dead end." Although Irene was sure Jordan felt he was being brave and noble, she could hear the bitterness in his voice. Bitterness which Irene was feeling towards Jordan's father. She was sure he was behind this. He was the one who thought that she was a dead end for Jordan!

"Jordan... let's not make any decisions right now. Either to commit or break up. Let's just see where things go, but let go of any expectations," Irene said as calmly and diplomatically as she could.

Jordan slammed his hand down on the bed. "What does that even mean?!" Irene pulled her hand back, startled by Jordan's sudden outburst.

"I didn't think I was being unclear. Just leave things the way they are. The way they have been..." Irene began to say. Jordan's eyes filled up with tears and he shook his head.

"Forever. Irene, we're going nowhere. Even before my accident, we were stuck. I care about you Irene, but I don't know what you want!"

"Jordan, you're what I want!"

"Am I?"

The question fell upon Irene like a heavy club, and she winced. Once again, neither voice was heard, but instead of a peaceful silence, it was tense and poignant. Irene tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She wanted to reassure him that he was, but strong and confusing emotions compelled her to silence. And with each second that passed without an answer, Jordan grew more visibly agitated.

"Jordan, I thought... I thought we understood each other," Irene finally managed to say, her voice trembling and tired. Jordan took in a deep breath, covering his face with his hands, flinching as the IV tugged.

"We did once. But I'm not so sure anymore. We've been mature about things up until now. But I almost died! I just want to be a stupid teenage boy." Jordan's hands dropped onto his lap.

"Well you're being a..." Irene responded in haste, but cut herself off. No. She was not going to unleash her anger on Jordan. He did not deserve it. She'd save that for Cyrus. Although this was something she could not blame on vampires. "If you truly don't want to be in a relationship anymore, then say as much. Don't tell me what is best for me, or what your parents think is best for us. Just tell me straight what you want."

Jordan remained silent as he rubbed his face and wiped away his tears. He looked away from Irene for a moment. Finally he gained the courage to look her back in the eyes. "When I'm out of here I don't want things to go back the way they were before. I either want to move forward, or to end things."

Irene drew in a deep breath, her eyes darting side to side as she sorted through her own thoughts. Was Cyrus right? Was she pushing everyone away? Merle and her weren't talking, and now Jordan was growing impatient with her. This was not something she was prepared to deal with. "Alright. When you're better, we'll either get engaged or break up. But right now I don't think that's a decision either of us should be making."

"Promise?" Jordan asked, staring intensely into her eyes.

Irene nodded without breaking eye contact. "I promise." This seemed to soothe Jordan for the time being, but he was looking pale and tired. He slipped back down into a recumbent position. "You look worn out. I should go."

"Yeah..." Jordan said, stifling a yawn. "Good bye, Irene."

Irene felt an odd weight to those words. Irene told herself it was just the medications, or the pain, or the stress of being in the hospital that was getting to him. But she could not shake the feeling that Jordan was unhappy with their relationship, and that he was dissatisfied with her.