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09/05/121
At one hundred and twenty years old, there was a list of constants in Miruna’s life. She had a long life ahead of her, one that would last forever if any real luck continued to evade her, so it made sense to keep a list of things that could stay the same. Examples included visiting her uncle’s tavern whenever she was able, vivid nightmares she could never escape, and yearly run-ins with The Hollow Man. Continued sightings of black cats weren’t originally on that list.
The first sighting was at the end of Avva back in year 90, followed by one in the middle of Novat that same year. The first one was the one she remembered the best, its red eyes peering into her golden ones, like it knew her every dark thought. She didn’t really think much of it at the time. Until 91, where she’d seen four more cats. Every year since then she was bound to see at least one, appearing only after something bad happened, a late omen.
Today wasn’t any different. She made her way into her uncle’s tavern, just like she did every week. Dandelion, the uncle in question, with his aged blue skin and graying orange hair, was behind the bar like he was every week. He wasn’t really her uncle, at least not by blood, but the golden scar across the bridge of his nose could have matched any of the ones that she wore. The only differences came fourth when you really looked at them both, like how the shades of gold were slightly different, and if you’d asked then he’d tell you that he had it since long before he ever met Miruna.
Like always, he pretended not to notice her right away, even though he was probably hoping everyone who walked in was her, and like always she sat at the end of the bar closest to the stairs, leaving one open chair on either side of her.
Unlike always, Laurel Amaranth, false-goddess of storms and springtime, sat beside her at the end of the bar. Laurel hadn’t been her friend for very long at that point, but her presence was welcome. They engaged in small talk, then a discussion about how Laurel’s brother was doing and what Miruna’s had been up to. One instant the goddess was trying not to giggle at the mere mention of Oliver Trel, and in the next her expression dropped entirely, replaced by a concerned look as her words trailed off. Miruna turned quickly to see why, her eyes landing on a man leaning against the doorway for support, crimson blood seeping from large wounds in both his shoulders, like someone tried to take chunks from the sides of them.
She moved before she could even process who it was, with Laurel following closely behind. Her hands were already starting to glow golden before she even touched him. His fangs retracted instantly when she laid her hand on his battered shoulder, a small squelch sound could be heard as the burnt, bloodied skin made contact with the palm of her hand. The dark red skin of his eye sockets and arms returned to their normal tan color after only a couple of seconds of healing. Through the haze he seemed to be in, his bright red eyes studied her face, taking in her familiar features and trying to actually remember who she was. Their eyes met in the same instant he realized. His breathing was erratic as she healed the first wound, but still he attempted a weak smile at her as thanks. ‘He’s covered in his own blood,’ she thought, ‘and he’s still trying to smile through it. The utter fool.’
Miruna shot a glance at Laurel, who was already approaching to help move him to a nearby table. The goddess towered over his 5'6 frame, almost comically so as she guided him to a chair. Miruna let her hand fall so that they could move, hovering behind them until he was seated, then she didn’t waste another moment.
“What the hell happened?” Dandelion yelled, footsteps heavy as he approached the trio, taking in the amount of blood covering his friend and now his doorway. People began to crowd around to get a better look at him, but he shooed them away with the wave of a hand and a stern look.
“I ran into Jagger. Thought I’d give him that warning for you,” the Hollow Man answered with shaky words, though his breathing was slowly evening out the longer she kept her healing hand on his shoulder. “He didn’t take it well.”
“Where is he? Is he nearby? How bad did you get him?” Laurel asked, her questions coming out in quick succession. She stood on the other side of the table now, hands on her hips with a steely expression.
“I think he’s dead. I don’t really know,” his told them, eyes closed as he tried to relax. Coming from him of all people, it wasn’t the answer anyone expected. Miruna knew from personal experience that Cassian wouldn’t let anyone off easy after doing that much damage to him.
“Do you know what way he went?”
“No, Goddess, if I did then I would have followed him.”
Of course he would have. He was lucky enough he hadn’t been killed in the first fight, why wouldn’t he go seeking out another? While Laurel and Cassian continued to speak, Miruna moved to stand a bit closer to him, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb over the skin of his shoulder as she healed it. It was a nervous habit that she'd developed at some point in the last few years, meant to comfort them, she guessed, but it served to ground her too. Laurel glanced at the movement, nodding to Cassian when he finished whatever he was saying, then walking away towards Dandelion back at the bar. Miruna knew what she’d be thinking, and she knew that the goddess was wrong, even if she would never drop it.
Dandelion and Laurel were trying to make their hushed interaction seem unrelated to what was going on, but they each had terrible poker faces. Dandelion wore a hardened expression as he whispered one final thing, which Laurel acknowledged and started to make her way towards the door, giving the pair a wave and a warm smile before heading out into the street. Miruna thought about it for only a moment before she caught Cass’ eyes rapidly glancing up at her, trying to figure out why she was so quiet.
She squeezed his shoulder while she asked her question, trying to keep her voice down so no one else could hear. “Do you think he’ll try to come back? After… whatever you did?”
Cassian answered with another glance up at her and the brush of his hand over hers- passing it off to others like he was only checking the healing process. “Not if he knows what’s good for him,” he smirked, his red eyes dancing at the idea. It was tough talk considering the state he was in, but his confidence did ease her nerves.
“He’s not exactly regarded for his wit,” she smiled, pulling her hand away so that she could inspect the damage. The whole of both of his shoulders were covered in jagged, rough patches of wounds that seemed to center around the middle of them, the affected area growing bigger but less severe the farther out it went, almost taking on the shape of a circle. It felt like a ton of scrapes at first, like when a child skins their knees, but it was deep and the edges were blistered and gooey, with chunks of flesh missing here and there. There was a good amount of blood, though the bleeding had slowed significantly. In some areas the blood was thinner and light, while in others it was a deep, crimson red. It made her feel sick to touch, especially as she ran her fingers over the surface of the blistering, but it was healing quickly under her light.
“Hall, how’d he do this?” she’d whispered, tentatively putting her hand back where it was, trying not to focus on the way the skin felt. She didn’t like to use even a scrap of the Hollow Man’s real name while others might be listening. She wouldn’t take any chances with such a secret.
“With some crazy, freaky magic that I’ve never seen before,” he sounded bitter about it. Though, she wasn’t sure whether ‘it’ was his lack of knowledge and experience or the fact that he almost let it take him out. “He had a knife too, but that wasn’t the problem.”
She was going to ask more about it, but some movement at the window caught her eye. She peered out at the darkening night sky, where she didn't expect to see a black cat staring in at the scene. It had a nicked ear and a tattered collar, its tail wagged back and forth every couple of seconds. She stared at it a bit too long, giving Cassian enough time to follow her gaze.
“A friend of yours?” he asked quietly, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the cat. It leapt away when it realized there was another pair of eyes on it, red meeting red for a moment before it disappeared. Miruna turned back to her work, moving to his other shoulder and leaving a shiny gold patch of scarring on the one she’d been healing.
“Not at all,” she fought to keep her expression neutral, not wanting anyone to see her get visibly worried about a simple black cat of all things. “You look half dead,” she told him, changing the subject quickly while she tried to refocus on the feel of his skin reforming beneath her hand. The circumference of the second wound was ever so slightly smaller.
“I am, Wraith,” he told her simply, smirking up at her once more. This was the closest they’d stood to each other in a very long time, and the touchiest Cassian had let anyone be with him since longer than she could reasonably guess, even if it was barely anything. Neither of them were ones to seek out that type of thing, let alone admit it was ever needed. She hadn’t let herself be close with anyone for a while, not in the ten years since her involvement with The River Man finally ended. There was always Dandelion, of course, but even then it was more of a routine for her at that moment. Actually opening up had become a terrible plight, she couldn’t think of anything worse. But she’d been trying to be more open to talking lately, be it small talk or deeper conversations depending on the mood.
And the vampire in particular was quite patient. He let her dictate the way the conversation went, so she never felt like he was going to bring up anything she didn’t want to think about. There was the occasional joke here and there about their history of nearly killing each other, but she never minded those. The last time she saw Cassian before this, a few weeks back, as they’d come across each other in the Corpsewood and he decided to escort her through, she’d asked him about his paintings and it turned into a long discussion about which flowers are best for making which pigments. He kept his distance while they talked, staying 6 feet behind her pretty much the whole time. She knew he was excited, for lack of a better term, about being able to build a proper friendship with her now that she was getting back in good spirits and neither of them have held a blade to each other for some decades.
He looked up at her again as she worked on his shoulder, her healing touch lasting so long that he could feel a few gashes from Jagger’s knife, wounds which he wasn’t even planning to mention, starting to close. Miruna wasn’t entirely sure why he kept looking up at her now and then with guilt in his eyes, but she had some idea based on the tearing in his shirt that she’d pretended not to notice. At least he wasn’t going to bleed out on the floor.
“You look guilty,” she muttered. It wasn’t anything she meant to say, but the words fell from her mouth anyway. She pulled her hand from him and sat down in the chair adjacent to his. The movement made her feel lightheaded, though she tried not to let it show.
“I’m sapping up your energy.”
“You’re not,” she said flatly. This conversation always came up at some point or another whenever she had to heal him. “I’m healing you, Hall.”
“Which saps your energy.”
“I was going to go up to my room soon, anyway.”
“If you can make it there.”
“So says the man who was bleeding to death ten minutes ago. You’re being dramatic.”
“Maybe I am. So?” he raised an eyebrow, daring her to argue. She rolled her eyes in response.
Dandelion appeared again with two steaming mugs in hand and set them down between the pair. Hers, a shiny blue mug with cracks painted gold, looked like tea, while Cass’ looked like hot blood in a slightly smaller, slightly lopsided shaped black mug.
“She hasn’t actually gotten a room yet,” the older man muttered, looking around the room rather than at either of them.
“Really? I didn’t know we were in the business of lying, Wraith,” Cass smirked(for the third time now. Was he not capable of simply smiling?) with mock offense dripping in his voice, taking a swig of his drink and wiping the excess blood from his mouth on the back of his gloved hand. His left eye twitched as he studied the shape of the mug in his hands.
“Do you have a problem with the mug?” she raised an eyebrow, watching his eyes grow dark as if he were planning out the perfect murder. For a mug.
He looked up from the mug to her, narrowing his eyes. “Yes. I made it while drunk. Maybe I thought I was making a statement with it, who knows. I pulled it out of the kiln when it was done and. Well. This was what I ended up with. Dandelion wouldn’t let me get rid of it, I showed him as a joke and he insisted on keeping it.”
“It’s okay quality. It holds the drinks just fine,” Dandelion argued. “It’d be a waste of a mug.”
“You made it?” Miruna asked with some disbelief, leaning forward to get a better look.
“Yes. And the one you’re holding.” There was a sense of pride that rang in his voice. Clearly he had a favorite. “I love that blue, but I haven’t been able to replicate that exact shade in any of my pigments. It’s a shame I dropped it, but I think the gold pulls it together just fine.”
“I wonder what inspired that choice,” Dandelion mumbled under his breath as he started cleaning off the table next to them.
“It was something that I picked up in Cridran, actually,” Cassian replied, with a louder volume than necessary, turning his head to Dandelion. “You can use any color, but I thought gold would look the best with the blue.”
She expected another retort or mumbled comment, but her uncle only softened, his midnight blue eyes honed in on the gold cracks. After just a single second, he was back to himself. “You should invest in a hobby like that, Ayla,” he smiled at her, “maybe you could think about it when you get to your room for the night.”
“I’ll be fine, you worry too much,” she shook her head, taking her mug in her hands but not drinking from it yet, just appreciating the craftsmanship. It’s not like she had anywhere else to be, or stay for that matter, but she’d been looking forward to a chance to be alone with herself. Completely alone, not within a tavern where people could walk in bleeding out at any moment and it was treated as a normal thing.
“You saw how Cass looked coming in here and he doesn’t even know if the man is dead. Why the hell would I let you leave right now?” Dandelion was still standing over the two with his arms crossed over his chest while he spoke with them. It had to be an intimidation tactic at that point.
“I don’t need anyone’s permission to leave,” she said with a barely concealed annoyance. “I’m 120 years old and a trained assassin.”
“So is Cass.”
“Hall acted impulsively and got cocky, I’m assuming.”
“She’s right about that,” the vampire interjected after another drink of blood.
“Thank you.”
“But Dandelion is right too, Wraith. Odds are, Jagger is still alive. And he’s quick, and huge, and crazy. If you wait till morning, he’ll probably have bled out by then.”
She considered this for a moment. Jagger knew about Cass’ friendships since he’d been a regular, and she was probably on that list. He’d had always been loud and rowdy, and she’d caught him leering at others- at her- a few times. She always walked away before he could really engage. She wanted to leave, but at the moment she was drained from healing Cass(not that she’d admit it). She was safer there, at Blossom’s.
“Fine,” she sighed, but her eyes drifted back out the window again. The cat sat across the empty street, as if beckoning her. She felt a great sense of rage at the audacity of this cat, but tried not to let it show as she took her first sip of tea. It was decaf, lavender with honey. Her favorite kind.
———————————————
Later in the night, when the tavern was locked up and the barrier spell was up and running, she snuck out the front door and into the dark. It wasn’t difficult to bypass the spell, all one would have to do is walk out. So, she slipped away without any issue, a light feeling passed through her as she made it past the invisible threshold of the barrier.
The air had a chill to it, fall was rolling in with the fifth day of Irsis. The cold only served to upset her more, when normally it would calm her. She didn’t want to feel upset, she didn’t even really want to think. Her thoughts only seemed to be on that cat. She’d had to wash her friend’s blood off her hands, she’d had another nightmare, and yet all she could think about was that blasted cat.
The streets were quiet, impossibly still as she walked. Yet, she knew she wasn’t the only soul around. The sound of her boots against the rain-soaked cobblestone echoed against the buildings looming overhead, the sound like that of a clock ticking, counting down to something, though she didn’t know what.
She didn’t get one block from Blossom’s when she saw it again. A small black void at the end of the road. She sped up her steps to catch up to it, only for it to walk away as she got closer. This song and dance kept up for longer than she’d like, her frustration starting to grow with every step. This cat had become a staple of bad memories, of warnings that she couldn’t possibly understand at the time, or chose not to even notice, of things that she could have avoided if she chose differently. Realistically, she knew the cats had nothing to do with it. Probably. And that they were all different cats and not just one single cat. But that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered now was catching it.
It continued trotting along as she got closer to it, maintaining a distance, as hard as she tried to close it. It stopped at the foot of a darkened alley, waiting for her approach to slow. It waited patiently for her to become less and less sure of herself before cheerfully wandering along into the darkness.
Now, Miruna was not stupid. She might have had a lapse in judgment while following a random cat out into the night, where a dangerous person could be alive and waiting to attack her, but she was not stupid. If Cassian was right and he was able to do some serious damage to Jagger, then that meant that he’d been bleeding all day. And she was the Wraith, for the sake of the stars above. She knew that if she went down this alleyway then an attack was inevitable. It would probably come from behind, he’d use his weight and height advantage to corner her, probably slam her into the wall. It would hurt for sure, especially if he put all his weight into it, but it shouldn’t knock her out, and as long as she could move her head then she would be okay. Better yet, if she could move out of the way in time then she wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not she could get out of his grasp. She didn’t know what to expect when it came to his ability to do any magic at that moment. Hopefully he was far too drained to try.
‘Thought I’d give him that warning for you.’ Cassian had said to Dandelion. Warning about what? And how did it escalate to bleeding in the doorway? It didn’t matter much now, she supposed, Jagger was clearly dangerous, and not to be underestimated. She would walk into the alley and she would deal with Dandelion’s lecture in the morning.
And this wasn’t about the cat, or Jagger. Oddly enough, it was about Admete. Ten years later and she’s still not quite processed it. And that cat showed up so many times throughout her time with him that she lost count. A late omen, of course.
Once The River Man had her, there was no getting out. Not until she committed the ultimate offense to him, which was to dance with someone else at a party. A party where he’d disappeared up the stairs for hours. A party where she had to wear a dress that showed much too much of her skin, skin which was glamoured to look a deep tan rather than the purple it naturally was. The glamour hid her horns and her scars as well, made her eyes brown which was once yellow, made white which was black. Considering she barely recognized herself, she always wondered how Cassian found her in that large ballroom, leaned against the wall beside her, and spoke just low enough so that only she could hear.
She wouldn’t have called herself his friend at that point, more like friendly acquaintances. They’d barely seen each other in the last few years before she met Admete, still apprehensive of one another in the thirty-five odd years since they called their truce. But Admete had thought otherwise. Maybe it was because the vampire shared the woods with him, or maybe it was because the vampire had nothing to lose. She thought it best not to ask.
She never understood it, Admete’s need to control her or Cassian’s desire to help her.
And she certainly did not understand this cat.
She thought about all of this as she very slowly crept toward the alleyway. She was hoping that waiting would draw him out, but no such luck found her then. She lit an orb of light in her hand to light space through the fog and shadows, and surely enough, after ten tentative steps into the darkness, the attack came from behind. A bloody hand clamped down over her mouth and an arm braced against the back of her shoulders. She tried to struggle, only to be slammed into the wall in front of her, rough brick scraping against the side of her face. The feeling rang in her horns as one of them shifted against the edges of the stone, sending extra shocks of pain through her. The impact sent all the air from her lungs, and the only thing keeping her up as her world was spinning was the huge, bleeding body behind her. At the very least, Jagger was predictable.
“Wraith,” he rasped, a low sound far too close to her ear, hot breath fanning out against her neck. She tried to stay calm as her eyes adjusted, back in the dark as the light was knocked from her grasp.
Panic set in. She couldn’t move her head.
She tried with desperate abandon to wrench free, but his grip only tightened like that of a snake around a mouse. Her golden eyes darted around the cramped space, searching for anything she could use. The shadows only grew deeper and darker around them, as if they were being swallowed by the night itself.
“Your vampire friend did quite a number on me earlier,” his laugh was like gravel in a meat grinder. “Before I killed him.”
‘He’s not dead.’ She wanted to say, let him know that he failed at whatever he was trying to do, but she couldn’t manage anything through the sweaty palm pushed against her mouth, invading the space between her lips. With more effort than she’d like to admit, she managed to bite down with a good amount of force, tasting blood as she felt her teeth break his skin. He cursed loudly, pulling his hand away reflexively, loosening his grip just enough so she could throw her head back into his face. She felt her skull make contact with his nose at the same time the sharp point at the end of her right horn dug into the skin of his cheek.
He stumbled backwards onto the other wall, and she forced herself not to run, knowing he’ll give chase. Instead, her fingers flexed as she started to summon her spear, golden light bathing the alleyway. Her heart was racing, adrenaline pumping through her veins from the panic, she didn’t realize she was whispering a simple word, a name, until she was through it. And nothing happened.
When he didn’t immediately appear, gasping in pain and taking in the scene, she hoped that it somehow didn’t work. But she knew better than that.
He’s already here.
When Jagger stood again, intent on closing the distance between them, he was taken back down instantly by something that was too quick to see properly in the haze of shadows. When he ended up on top of the other man, Cassian made a noise she recognized from her own fights with him, a sound she understood as a signal that he stopped pretending to be anything close to human. Jagger couldn’t begin to try fighting him off as the vampire’s claws punctured the flesh of his thick neck, making sure he felt every slight movement, that he felt the anxious agony as they grazed against his throat from under his skin.
What happened next was quick and brutal and bloody. She looked away, letting her spear fade from her grasp so that no light was shed upon the scene, but she couldn’t block out the sounds. Cassian did not take his time. He would never let it be slow, he would not let Jagger get a sound out that wasn’t a gargled cry.
When it was done, the vampire stood above the mauled, bloody lump that was once man. His eyes, wild and wide, were practically glowing. His red irises were small, nearly overtaken by the deep crimson color that the whites of his eyes, the area surrounding them, limbs, ears always turn when he kills. He flexed his fingers, as if just noticing the blood soaking them. She watched him realize his appearance had changed, the way his tan skin turned a dark red, how his nails turned to sharpened claws. His fangs were extended but there was no blood staining his mouth, like she’d been expecting. Though, Cass was never one to feed on anything so rotten.
She kept studying him as he stepped closer to her, taking note of all the ways his muscles shifted and he seemed to shake the slightest bit. Whether it was from anxiety or fear or rage or complete euphoria from the kill, she didn’t know. He approached her cautiously, like a wounded fox approaching a wounded wolf. He didn’t get in her space, and stopped his hand from reaching for her when he clearly wanted to try. She could see that it pained him to see the scattered look in her eyes, her head aching now that the adrenaline and shock was quickly starting to fade.
She wanted to tell him that she was okay, tell him that nothing happened, that he got there in time, but no words came out. Instead, she took a small step forward and tentatively placed a hand on his face, a hand already starting to glow with healing energy. The dark red skin around his eyes faded quickly, followed by the tips of his ears, and then the stubborn whites of his eyes. It was almost like he was fighting her on it, the color darkening again for a moment when his eyes settled on the golden blood dripping down her face.
They said no words when she pulled her hand away. Still studying each other, as they began to step away and out of the alleyway. They spared no glance back to the dead man.
The walk back to Blossom’s was just as quiet, their shared steps echoing against the buildings, interrupted only by the occasional pitter-patter of a cat moving from perch to perch. She saw it, felt its red eyes watching intently, but this time she paid it no mind.
They tried to continue in silence as they made their way back into the tavern. It was broken by the whisper of a command word when she placed her hand against the invisible barrier so they could get back in. She went right to the stairs, pausing while he went to the bar. She watched him make his way to the other side and start looking for something, just to come back up with a bottle of what she could only assume was blood. He followed after her up the stairs, still silent, though she knew he was trying to work up the nerve to say something. Their doors were across from each other, and no words had to pass between them to say goodnight or goodbye.
After closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it, sliding down until she was sitting with her head resting on her knees. It was so stupid of her to go out, knowing the danger, knowing how Cass looked after coming in earlier. Sure, she’d fought Jagger off, and certainly would have been able to handle it without Cass, but that didn’t change the fact that she could still feel his hand over her mouth.
It wasn’t about the cat, or Jagger, and she knew that. She was sick of feeling helpless, even years after Admete, and decades after Void before him. She’d thought maybe catching that cat would help, somehow, but that cat was just another constant in her life, a warning of things currently going wrong. It was not a symbol for anything, catching it would do nothing for her, as much as she’d wanted to imagine otherwise. All it did was literally lead her directly into danger, knowing she would willingly follow with the barebones of a plan.
She got up after another few minutes, realizing that her clothes were covered in brick dust and smeared with Jagger’s blood from when he’d been holding onto her. Her head still ached from being thrown into the wall, blood still seeping out from the scrape in the side of her forehead.
She changed into her night clothes first, then dealt with the bleeding. Some of it had started to scab while other parts of it were still wet. The golden color of her blood was shimmering in the low light of the candles that were burning around the room. It stung to touch, and was so tender that she worried it was worse than she thought. She needed a couple of stitches, that was for sure. Luckily Dandelion stashed a fully stocked first aid kit in every room, so she didn’t need to leave again. He was going to have a fit when he saw her the next day. She could already hear him making frustrated noises while trying to lecture her.
After she finished taking care of her injury, putting a bandage over it for good measure, she blew out the candles and stood there for a moment, soaking in the dark before holding out her hand and watching a ball of light start to form. When it was settled, the heart of it formed black, like the drawings of black holes that were in some of the ages old books her uncle had. It was the same black as her spear, the same black in her eyes. It was not quite a shadow, it still glowed golden-yellow and warm, but she knew that it wasn’t supposed to look so haunting. She’d caught Dandelion and Oliver whispering about it once. They’d both known past sunsols. Loved them, even. Miruna was different from them, she knew. She didn’t possess the ability to heal herself or the blinding, welcoming white light that they had. That she was supposed to have. She was always built wrong, in more ways than one.
The light started to fade as her thoughts started to darken, until she closed her fist completely, plunging her back into the dark. Which was the same moment that she heard the softest of knocks at her door.
As expected, it was Cassian. He changed out of his second outfit to be ruined today, and washed the blood off of his hands. The skin of his arms hadn’t quite returned to normal, his nails were still more like claws. He looked up at her with a sorrow he couldn't quite hide.
“I came to check on you,” he whispered, finally breaking the silence that they’d been allowing to hang over them.
“I’m okay, Cass,” she whispered back, reaching for his hand and starting to heal it. He let her, watching her as she watched his claws turn back to the blunt nails he preferred. His black nail polish was completely ruined, only a few bits left.
“I know,” he nodded, still watching her, eyes focused on the bandage at her forehead. “You were going to take him out just fine, I know. But you said my name.”
She couldn’t quite argue with that. She had tried to summon him, even after she got the situation under her control. It was probably the adrenaline, and the fact that she was secretly a little terrified the entire encounter. She hadn’t even thought about it before saying it, it just came out.
“I did.” It was all she could really say. She stepped aside to finally let him in, and he entered without hesitation. She closed the door, and they stood in the darkness of the room. Their eyes adjusted quickly, and she could see that he was still looking at her like he’d messed up somehow. She just sat on the bed, patting the space next to her as an invitation.
“Why’d you go out, anyway?” he asked suddenly, sitting down next to her, leaving some distance.
“I was following that cat.” She couldn’t look at him while having this conversation, hoping the lack of eye contact would somehow shield her from the embarrassment.
“I knew it.” A glance over at him was enough to confirm that he was smirking about it. Again.
“You did not.” Her tone was accusatory, like that of a child.
“Why else would you go out, knowing he was out there?”
“I had a plan.”
“I could see that.”
“Really?”
“Well, I saw you standing over him with your spear. I figured you’d won.” He did smile at that, a sense of pride in his voice.
“So then why did you attack him?” she asked quietly, already knowing the answer, her thoughts drifting back to the animalistic way he moved. “And do… whatever it was that you did?”
“I… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I saw you, I saw him, I felt you say my name and I could hear your heart and smell your blood. And I just went at him.”
“I appreciated it,” she nodded at him. “Even if it wasn’t necessary.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
“You really wouldn’t have liked what you saw.”
“If that’s the case, then forgive me for not killing him slower.”
She looked back at him again, their eyes locking in the dark. Before she realized what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. He was caught off guard, and she felt him hesitate still before his arms wrapped around her back, carefully at first before eventually tightening, molding them to each other.
This never happened before, a thing like this. They’ve held each other's gaze, hands, even faces when needed. They’ve danced in the ballroom of two Primeval. They’ve fought and clawed at each other until neither was sure they would walk away whole. They have made out against an alleyway wall of a bar so they could disguise a conversation spell. They have fought monsters of all kinds for each other without hesitation. But this was different. They’ve never held each other like this. They’ve never actually hugged.
She thought about Laurel, oddly enough, as she held Cassian. She thought about what the goddess was probably going to tell her brother about the suspicious behavior between the Wraith and Hollow Man. Lahar would probably disagree for the sake of disagreeing with her, but Laurel would be insistent. Miruna knew that the goddess was wrong about them. For the most part. It definitely wasn’t a normal friendship that they had, but their relationship had always been like that, intense as the first time they fought.
She could admit to herself at this point that she was friends with the vampire. And it was a big step for her to take. They’d been friends for ages, really, but she had never been able to let her guard down completely until that moment. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel safe in decades, but she could then, in the dark, with a man who would have fought anyone or thing for her at that point. This bond that she had with Cassian was hard won. After decades of distaste, then distance, then attempts at reconciliation here and there(all from him), then nothing, and now this. This thing they have was very slowly, very cautiously built.
She’d been hunted her whole life, by anyone looking for quick coin, by Void, then by Cassian himself for a while. It was different with him, he only wanted the adrenaline of the hunt and the thrill of the kill. Loyalty was a virtue to him, she thought. Loyalty to select people, to causes, or to a hunt. After she spared him the first time, he simply had to redeem himself by trying again. And again, and again.
He had a moral code when it came to fighting that she figured out after the fourth encounter. He couldn’t make or let her suffer, but he could never kill her as a mercy. If either of them was already injured to begin with, then there would be no fight, or in the event that he’d gone mad, he would just injure himself first so that they were even. He would fight dirty, he would push every advantage he could possibly get, but he would never do anything with the intention to disrespect her as a fighter or as a person. He wanted to be the one to kill her, and that was it.
He pulled away first, as she’d gotten lost in thought. They’d been like that for nearly a whole minute. “I went back to his body,” he admitted, still close to her even after letting go. “Pretty much right after you closed your door.”
“You did?”
“I couldn’t leave it there. Someone would have found it.”
“You know, he thought he killed you,” she told him, not entirely sure as to why.
“Did he?” His tone was cautious. Not what she expected.
“…Yes,” she replied slowly, copying his tone.
“Well,” he smiled, trying to hide something behind it, “I was hoping he would have dropped dead, too.”
“How did you get away earlier?” She didn’t want to pry about whatever he wasn’t saying, but she did want to know some details.
“I was able to create some distance, and then I pretty much ran. I was surprised that he didn’t follow me, honestly.”
“He probably saw Laurel looking around the streets and decided it was best not too.”
“Probably. And then he was just… waiting for a healer to foolishly walk into a dark alleyway at night,” he laughed.
“I was being foolish, I’ll admit that.”
“What are you going to tell Dandelion if he asks what happened to your forehead?”
“I’m not sure,” she furrowed her brows in thought, her hand moving subconsciously to touch the bandaged injury. “Maybe a bad fall down the stairs or something?”
He was about to say something else when he stopped himself. His ears twitched, his eyes focused on the door. Before he could warn her, there was a knock. They looked at each other while they both stood, Cassian moving without a sound to stand next to the door so that he’d be hidden once it opened. Miruna opened it just enough so she stood in front of the doorway, blocking the view of the rest of the room.
“Laurel,” Miruna greeted, trying to make herself look less suspicious. Really, she didn’t care if anyone knew Cass was there, but she did care about what reasons they’d assume. “It’s late, are you alright?”
“Wraith, I can see the bandage.” Laurel replied flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. She was still in her long dress, sheer drapery, and jewelry, as if it wasn’t a little past midnight.
“I fell, that's all.” She tried to smile, but she was never good at lying to any of her friends.
“Must have hit your head pretty bad then,” the goddess nodded, looking down at her with undisguised doubt. “Hey, have you seen Cass by chance?”
“Not since earlier today.”
“Really? So that’s not him hiding in there? In the dark?” She leaned forward for emphasis, cocking her head to the door that Cassian was on the other side of. Of course she somehow knew. Miruna paused, blatantly looking directly at the vampire. It did look pretty bad, she couldn’t really argue there.
“How’d you know?” Cassian asked, moving to be in her view. Miruna let the door fall open wider so that it wouldn’t be so crowded.
“You didn’t answer when I knocked on your door, but your light is still on.”
“Ah.”
“Are you okay, Wraith? What happened?” the goddess’s voice softened. She reached out and placed a hand on Miruna’s shoulder, her blue eyes staring down at her with an understanding that she wasn’t ready for.
Miruna invited her inside, re-lit the candles, and then told her almost everything. She left out the moment that just passed between her and Cass. She thought it was better that they kept it theirs.
“So just for clarification,” Laurel started when Miruna finished, “Jagger is dead?”
“Yes,” Cassian answered. “Properly dead.”
“Where’d you hide the body?”
“Dumped it in the Corpsewood.”
“That’s a few miles away, how’d you get back so fast?” Miruna asked. Even moving fast and without having to bury the body, he shouldn’t be back here yet.
“I can walk through trees,” he smiled, “It’s some teleportation spell that Greenie taught me.” ‘Greenie’ was what he called The Thing in The Woods, a giant man-tree-thing that was frankly, quite terrifying. It had no face, it towered high at ten feet, bark and vines twisting into limbs. It had antlers too, giant, winding things that only added to its height. And Cassian had struck a deal with the gods of Life and Death to watch over it. Not that a vampire was really suited to watch a god-like horror, but at least they got along well.
“Okay. That all makes sense,” Laurel muttered. She was sitting on the bed with Miruna, while Cassian was standing with his arms crossed. She looked between the two of them, scanning for any other injuries or any little signs that she’s missing. “As long as you’re both okay.”
“We are,” Miruna nodded, catching the goddess’s attention in her gaze. They just stared at each other for a moment, as Laurel silently asked a question that she didn’t want Cassian to hear. Miruna shook her head slightly, and they both understood. Cassian didn’t need a verbal exchange to know what they were discussing.
“Well, I’ll take my leave now. Goodnight Wraith, we should get together soon,” Laurel announced with a warm smile, giving Miruna a light bow once she stood, then turning her attention to Cass and set her hand on his shoulder. She towered over him still, standing at 6’2 where he stood at 5’6. “I will see you in the woods, Vampire.” It wasn’t meant to be a threat, but it certainly sounded like one.
Cassian just smiled in response, his fangs glinting in the low light. “Of course, goddess.”
When Laurel left, they were alone again, and Miruna started laughing. “She’s going to tell her brother,” she giggled, trying to contain herself.
Cassian stared in horror. He’d never heard her genuinely laugh before, he didn’t know how to react. “So?”
“You don’t remember how fast rumors can spread, do you?”
“You explained the whole thing. She has nothing to go off of.”
“She found us alone. In the dark. You followed me out and tore a man apart for me. She has more than enough to go off of.”
“Oh. Right.” His brows furrowed as he thought about it. He hadn’t been thinking about it before, what it might look like from an outside perspective. She knew that as a creature fo the night, Cassian was used to the dark, preferred it really, so talking with her in a dark room didn’t have any underlying meaning or intentions from him. But when he thought about it for longer than ten seconds, she watched understanding dawn on him.
“Why’d you follow me, Cass?” she found herself asking, not even sure she needed or wanted the answer. It didn’t matter, the thing was over and done with now.
“Remember that bottle of blood I grabbed after we got back?”
“Yes?”
“I was originally going to get it earlier, when I saw you slip out the front door.”
“I see,” she nodded, “so it was luck, then?”
“Luck that I saw you, sure. Not that I followed you,” he said. “It was more like… instinct, I guess.”
“Instinct to follow me?”
“Well, to make sure you weren’t killed.”
“By following me.”
“Hey, I would have done the same if you were Laurel or Dandelion. Maybe even if you were Oliver.” He held his hands up in defense, though it could have also been taken as surrender.
“I don’t doubt that.” ‘But would you have torn him apart like that if I were them?’ It was an easy question to think, but not to voice. It wasn’t a secret from anyone that he had a soft spot for her. Cassian respected her greatly as a fighter and as a friend. He learned where and how she would hit, memorized pretty much every single move she made during their fights, as she had memorized his. It was a dance between them, one that was not so easily understood by anyone who was not involved. Maybe he would have torn Jagger apart if she were anyone else. But he probably wouldn’t have.
He could see her thinking, but he couldn’t quite place what about. “I should go,” he said after a few moments of silence, looking up again at the bandage on her forehead. “You need rest.”
“I’m not the one that nearly died today, Cass.”
“No, but you spent a good amount of energy making sure that I didn’t. And it’s not like I can return the favor.” She knew that Cassian did know one of two healing spells, but he needed components or to be in his woods, where she only needed to be near whoever was injured. She hadn’t known him to use magic regularly or rely on it in fights, much preferring his swords or claws or fangs before he uttered any spell, but he still had the ability.
“You don’t need to.”
“Fine, then. But if you need anything, I’m right across the hall,” he’d reminded her as he made his way to the door. She stayed where she was, watching him go.
“Goodnight, Vampire,” she whispered, knowing he could still hear even if he wasn’t trying.
“Goodnight, Wraith,” he whispered back, meeting eyes with her one more time before closing the door.
Alone again, she blew out the candles once more and finally laid down for the night. A soft breeze came in through the open window, moonlight shining through the translucent curtains as she got comfortable. Like before, her thoughts drifted to the events of the day. It wasn’t so negative as the last time, her mind much calmer now that she’d spoken with Laurel and Cass.
She could probably add the blue gaze of the presumptuous goddess to the list of constants in her life. Laurel meant well, she didn’t say anything about what she was thinking in regards to her many looks between Miruna and Cassian, and she certainly didn’t make any comments like Dandelion did. Still, Miruna knew what she was thinking(and that she was wrong), the false goddess of storms and springtime didn’t have to voice any opinions for Miruna to know what was going through her head. It was quite easy to guess. And that was fine. Whenever they ‘got together’, as Laurel had suggested, Miruna would try to explain things.
As she drifted off to the dreadful thought of that, she felt a slight dip in the bed. Upon opening her eyes she found two red, wide cat eyes staring at her from the other end of the bed.
Miruna didn’t move, not sure what to even really do at the sight of the cat. It made its way to her slowly as she lifted her head to meet it. They stared at each other for a few moments, as she tried not to let her anger take hold. When it was close enough itt bonked its snout into her forehead. A silent apology, she hoped.
She didn’t know what to think of this cat. It had shown up at pretty much every bad event she’s had for the last thirty years. While she didn’t move, she also didn’t stop it as it curled up next to her. She stayed frozen, not sure what to do. She thought about it more, about how it led her into that alleyway, about how it watched her wanderer into the clutches of Admete. It looked up to her with expected eyes, purring as she very cautiously reached to pet it. It was surprisingly soft, and it instantly leaned into her hand, eyes closed as it nuzzled into her hand with some force. With a sigh she laid her head back down on her pillow. The cat only got closer, pressing its face into her neck as she kept petting it. She quickly fell asleep like that, with one of her hands resting on its body, feeling the warmth.
She didn’t dream that night, thankfully, and the cat was gone when she woke. She wasn’t surprised, it never seemed to stay in one place for long. They had a truce from that point on, and she could comfortably add continued sighting of a black cat to her list of constants. She was fairly certain then that it really was just one cat. If she herself could be immortal surrounded by many other immortals, then who was she to say that a cat could not be immortal as well? Why it had taken such a liking to her, she wouldn’t ever know.
Dandelion did ask about the wound on her forehead, and he didn’t even pretend to buy her story about a fall, even when Cassian tried to back her up. The pair of them let him get all his frustrated words and noises out without any interruption, since he’d already pieced together some version of their evening. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was lecturing them about, but he was determined not to let them get a word out, so they tried to listen intently to his vague statements and hand gestures. When he finally walked away she turned to Cassian, who was already smirking at her. She left shortly after with a wave to the vampire and a kiss on her uncle’s cheek, promising to stay out of trouble.
As she walked through the now bustling cobblestone streets of town, a black cat with a nicked ear and a tattered collar followed closely behind.