Irene closed her eyes and conjured the images of Cyrus and Gabriel. She focused on the concept of vampires and the terror they unleashed. Helplessness stirred her stomach to flutter and heart to race. Opening her eyes, she stared 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.

Thoughts of safety and peace replaced those of powerlessness and danger as she wove dried flowers and berry-laden mistletoe among hawthorn branches. Cast off dry leaves, twigs, and bits of shaved bark littered her lap. The results thus far had been lopsided and sloppy, but she tried not to think of her endeavour for its aesthetics but for function.

It wasn't easy for Irene to keep her skeptical thoughts from invading, and to instead channel her thoughts into the task at hand. Never in her life would she have believed she'd resort to such superstitions. Yet, here she was, standing in a candle-lit room, wreathing her window with dead plants. Once she had secured the garland around her window, she closed it, as a final act symbolic of shutting the evil out.

Next Irene had to get her bedroom door warded. Screeching wood on linoleum irritated her as she dragged a chair from the kitchen. Atop the chair she stood and pinned the garland of verbena and mistletoe above her bedroom door. She finished by putting what supplies she had left together into a few smaller bundles and went outside to secure them above all of her windows. Inevitable rainfall would surely ruin them, but in the meantime she felt safer, in spite of her skepticism.

The hum of the vacuum was loud in her ears as she cleaned up the debris from the carpet. After going over the same spot enough times until she didn't hear a rattling sound of hard bits pinging around the hose, she turned it off.

"That's um... new. Doing some redecorating?"

Irene jumped and spun around, seeing her father standing there. He smiled at her reaction, and then rubbed his thick neck as he looked at the twisted branches and faded scarlet blooms.

"Oh. Yes."

"Smells kind of lemony," Mr. Locklyn remarked, as if trying to find something nice to say about the change. He flashed her a questioning look.

"It does," Irene got the sense he wasn't terribly keen on the display. "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."

"It does," Irene began rolling 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 reviewed 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.

With a revitalised spirit, Irene decided to not waste a good moment pondering how it all might go wrong. Instead she went into her room and got out her homework.

"Vervain, really?"

Irene's concentration was shattered at the sound of that voice. She glanced at the clock and sighed, then narrowed her eyes at her bedroom door, which was left ajar. Now's the moment of truth. Will he stroll right on past my ward? After a moment of silence, Cyrus did not push in. She smiled.

"Just an added precaution."

"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. "...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, she finished up her homework, and got out her copy of The Kitchen God's Wife to read and relax the evening away.

----------------------------------------

"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 school library by Joseph's large frame.

"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 realised 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 snickered to each other. She 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 content with the friends she'd made when she was younger. Now she realised she was vastly unpracticed in making new ones.

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!"

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. "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. I learned life and death are all just part of nature, and to go with the flow. Now I see the beauty even in the darkness."

Irene listened attentively, sorting and processing his words through her own filters. She wondered if Joseph would see the beauty in vampires, real vampires, or if he'd find them as abominable as she did. "You say most people mistake your black appearance as something darker. 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 pointed to his mouth and wore 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." Jovial and flamboyant in his tone, he flicked his wrist. "And what about you, Irene? Your clothes are so unremarkable that they don't tell anyone anything about you."

Irene looked down at her white shirt, blue jeans, and navy jacket. No mottos. No prints. Just solid colours. Her clothes were a little worn, but not yet tattered. It was no surprise, since she often picked up whatever was on sale or shopped at thrift stores. Her shoes, however, she never skimped on. Irene wiggled her toes in her white sneakers, feeling the cushioned soles. "I don't really like drawing attention to myself."

"And why's that?"

Irene looked up. Joseph had been open with her, thus it seemed only fair to be open with him in return. Yet she could not see sharing her pain as a fair exchange. She glanced around, adjusting her bag strap. Evasion would only invite further prying. "I guess I just don't want to be bullied."

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

"Me too," Irene wondered if she'd even make it to graduation. Hoisting up her bag again she looked up at her peer. "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."

"You too, Joseph."

----------------------------------------

Plucking up her courage to brave the hospital yet again, Irene hopped on a bus straight after school. When she arrived at Jordan's room, she saw Mrs. Fisher sitting beside him. Not wanting to interrupt, she turned to leave. Alas, she was noticed and she heard her name called out. 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 belying watery eyes.

Uncomfortable as it was to approach, it was unthinkable to flee.

Mrs. Fisher stood up, offering her chair. Irene shook her head, declining the seat.

"Oh, do, I was just leaving," Mrs. Fisher leaned over to pat the seat of the chair.

"Oh. Thank you," Irene said quietly as she sat down.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Mrs. Fisher placed her hands on the back of the chair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Peanut."

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

"Goodbye, Irene," Mrs. Fisher lingered, as if she wanted to say more, but then she picked up her purse and walked out.

Once they were mostly alone, Irene looked to her fallen fellow. "She still calls you that?"

"Only when she's being really clingy," Jordan responded with a half smile. "I don't blame her." He 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 continued to listen as she held his hand reassuringly. He squeezed back, and for once, it felt strong. "What's new with you, Irene? Merle mentioned that you've been making new friends."

"Merle's been to visit you a lot lately, hasn't she?" Irene tried not to let it bother her. It wasn't jealousy per se, so much that Merle might inadvertently cause Jordan more stress by oversharing. Certainly, it had nothing to do with Cyrus's observation about the visitor logs.

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

"Hmmm. Giving me space? That's unlike her. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?" she 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 face 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?"

"No. It's just that being inactive so long has been hard on my lungs, or so the doctors say."

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?"

Irene blinked a few moments before she realized what he was talking about. She didn't understand why he was speaking indirectly until a nurse walked past her. Irene clammed up.

The nurse took a look at his vitals monitor. "How are you doing Jordan?"

"A bit winded."

"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 opened his mouth. He then looked at Irene and did a double eyebrow raise, prompting her to answer his question.

"Oh, uh, I've been thinking about calling in professional help but I have been concerned about the cost," Irene wasn't comfortable saying more while someone else was present. She also wasn't sure if they were talking about the same thing.

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 smiled.

"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.

"Bedbugs?"

"You were raving about vampires the last time you were here. But I didn't want to embarrass you by bringing that up. But... was everything you said about you and Tina being taken, was that just a fever dream or...?"

"I..." Irene sighed. She wished she'd never told him. "That immigrant... he is involved with some bad people. And they did harm Tina, and other girls, then covered up their deaths." She pouted her lower lip. "But I have no evidence. And one of them has gotten to my father."

"What?" Jordan tensed, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. "Is your father okay?"

Irene put out her hands in a placating manner. "He's not in immediate danger. So long as I don't go to the police, we should be fine." She curled in her lips. "The man I saved... Cyrus... he's still in the basement. He says he can protect me from the others, but I don't believe him. He can be very crass, which makes me uncomfortable. He's on his best behaviour around Dad, though. At least now he's paying rent."

Jordan looked down at his feet, two peaks beneath his covers. His hands clenched and released a few times and he shook his head. "This is all just... it's unbelievable." Jordan looked up. "But I believe you because I trust you."

Irene looked away. She was feeling undeserving of that trust at the moment, with everything she was holding back.

"When the time is right, I hope to see that Tina gets justice. But right now, I am just trying to keep safe." Irene rubbed the back of her neck. She longed to confide fully in Jordan, but she was confident he'd make unwise choices with the truth.

"What about leaving an anonymous tip to look into Tina's death more?" Jordan tilted his head.

"Things are so precarious right now, I don't think that'd be wise." Irene crossed her arms and looked away. The same thought had occurred to her.

"Well... it was just a thought..." Jordan looked down.

Irene nodded and also dropped her gaze. "I know. And I'm glad you keep thinking up solutions. As it is, I've resorted to witchcraft."

Jordan's eyebrows rose in surprise, then he barked out a laugh, probably fueled by surprise more than amusement. Still, it was a beautiful sound, until it ended again in a sputter of coughs. This fit wasn't as bad as the previous, and she passed him his water yet again. "Thanks." Sip. "I never thought I'd hear you say that seriously. What did you do? Cast a hex?"

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

Jordan seemed mildly disappointed. "That doesn't sound very magical."

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." Slowly, Jordan's hands clenched then 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 she did not let her concern show. "So when Merle mentioned you'd been hanging around Joseph..."

"It's because I decided to join a coven." Irene shrugged, but then smiled, trying to keep the tension at bay with a little levity. "Don't worry, I was just picking his brain about some research. But he has been a help."

Jordan sighed, bringing up his knees. "I just wish I could be the one to help. Instead I'm stuck in here, useless while you go through this, alone," Jordan lamented. She 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 his anguish. Almost anything. "I have you. I have my father." She laughed lightly, again trying to defuse 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?"

"No, no." Irene laughed. "He just scruffed her until she squirmed free and ran off in high dudgeon."

Jordan chuckled more naturally and managed to keep his coughing to a minimum. He cleared his throat and smiled. "I can see that. She's friendly, but has that classic kitty pride." He sighed with the relief of thinking on cheerier topics. "She's a good girl."

"She is. She really is. She really helped Monica, and now she's helping me, old lady that she is. Although, 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. 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 looked 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. She 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 answered, still not looking at Irene. "I was a bit disappointed at first when you didn't enthusiastically agree. But I know you, and I knew you wouldn't 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 bony 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 noble, she could hear the bitterness in his voice. Bitterness which Irene was feeling towards his father, who thought that she was a dead end!

"Jordan... let's not make any decisions right now. Either to commit or break up. Let's see where things go and 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?!"

Startled by his outburst, it took Irene a moment to collect her thoughts and respond assertively."I didn't think I was being unclear. Just leave things the way they are. The way they always have been."

Jordan's eyes filled up with tears and he shook his head. "The way they always have been..." his voice lowered bitterly. "Irene, we're going nowhere. Even before my accident, we were stuck. I care about you, 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. Once again, neither voice was heard, but instead of a peaceful silence, it was tense and poignant. She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Reassurances just could not be summoned, and strong and confusing emotions compelled her to silence. With each second that passed without an answer, Jordan grew more visibly agitated. Darting eyes, tapping fingers, curling and uncurling toes. He looked away, scratching near his IV site.

Irene had to speak before this boiled over. "Jordan, I thought... I thought we understood each other," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling and tired.

Breathing deeply, Jordan covered his face with his hands. "We did once. But I'm not so sure anymore. I almost died! I just want to be a stupid teenage boy." Jordan's hands dropped onto his lap.

"Being a stupid teenage boy is what got you-" Irene responded in haste, but cut herself off. No. She was not going to unleash her anger on him. 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. "I don't want things to go back the way they were before. I either want to move forward, or split."

Irene drew in a deep breath, her eyes darting side to side as she sorted through her own thoughts. Are Merle and Cyrus right? Am I pushing everyone away? Such flutterings and stirring in her stomach gave her the sense she had just been on a fast ride. The idea of things changing distressed her, but she knew it was unrealistic to think things would stay the same. "Alright." She swallowed hard. "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 stifled a yawn. "Good bye, Irene."

Irene felt an odd weight to those words. She told herself it was just the cumulative stress, but his 'goodbye' struck an ominous chord in her.