Marion closed the door to Logan’s apartment as Isabella walked in and moved to sit in one of the two mismatched armchairs in the living room. Logan was nowhere to be seen, likely already in her bedroom, and that worked well for Marion. She had many questions to ask Isabella and she didn’t feel like they were things she could ask in front of her pink-haired roommate. The girl sat down with hands on her knees, giving a look towards the apartment windows that faced the street, though from that angle she likely couldn’t see anything there. Guessing what she was thinking, Marion moved there to close the curtains before moving towards the couch. But before she sat down, she realized that her cat hoodie was stained with blood, covered in twigs and bits of leaves, mud and muck from the sidewalk and all sorts of dirt that one would expect from being tossed around the street like a ragdoll. Her pants were in no better condition. Picturing the questions that could arise from that type of dirt making it to Logan’s couch, she folded her arms instead, standing as she turned to Isabella.
“So, you’re a witch?”
Isabella took a beat before she nodded in agreement and offered Marion the tiniest shrug, somewhere between apologetic and a simple ‘what can you do’. The vampire frowned. There were many things she disliked about that particular bit of new information, but it was hard to put all those concerns in tangible words.
“Did you know about me? I mean, before today?”
“Know? No, I didn’t… But I had… A feeling about you.”
“Yeah, my aura, right?” Marion said, sardonic.
Isabella chuckled and shook her head slowly, but whether that was in disapproval of Marion’s dismissive tone or a quiet admission that auras were bullshit, it wasn’t clear. She took her hands off her knees and leaned back into the armchair. She folded her arms over her stomach and regarded Marion with a suspicious attitude, but there was more uncertainty than hostility in her voice as she spoke:
“It’s hard to explain. But it was a vibe, definitely. Sixth sense sort of thing.”
“I always thought sixth sense was something people used to justify prejudice.”
“Or instinct,” Isabella offered defiantly.
Marion shifted her weight from one leg to the other and, in doing so, winced in pain. Her bones were still sore and while they would heal way quicker than if she was a mortal, that didn’t make the pain any lesser at that moment. A hand moved to rub her ribs in a reflex gesture from pain, but as she did so, the sleeves of her hoodie grazed through the silver burns on her wrists and she gasped in pain. Isabella’s guarded attitude disappeared quickly in reaction to her pain, and she got up and took a step to close the distance between them.
“That looks nasty, can I…”
She was reaching for Marion’s arms, and the vampire instinctively took a step back, pulling herself away from Isabella’s reach. The witch looked almost wounded for a second, but really it was annoyance that won in the end as she frowned.
“What the hell… Do you really think we have secrets from each other right now?”
Marion wanted to hiss something about how they obviously did because she always had secrets. But then again, did she really? There were very few mortals that had ever known about her condition in all this time and the only one still in her life in any capacity was Dave, and their relationship was purely a commercial one, as much as he tried to make it a friendship thing as well. But now, well… Now there was Isabella, and for good or for worse, Marion would need to deal with that. Isabella had seen enough that Marion doubted that the command ‘forget me’ would have any effect on her. She could always leave Isabella with that knowledge and disappear from her life, but that would mean disappearing from Logan’s life. And Marion really didn’t want to go searching for another roommate this soon after Claire.
“Oh, good grief… Why are you dramatic?”
Isabella’s outburst got Marion a little bit by surprise, in part because she wasn’t sure what Isabella was referring to, and briefly, she wondered if the witch could read her mind or something, and also, because she felt like after being in what felt much like a life-or-death fight with one of her kin and almost being taken prisoner, Marion guessed that if there was ever a moment in her unlife where she was entitled to be a little dramatic, it would probably be now.
“What?”
“You’re thinking about disappearing,” Isabella said accusatorily, and very quickly added, “oh, don’t look so shocked! It’s all over your face. You’re not as hard to read as you’d think, chica.”
“I mean…”
Isabella rolled her eyes. She had her arms folded again, no longer trying to reach for Marion’s own, but now the look on her face was definitely one of judgement. Marion wasn’t sure why she cared about the opinion of someone many decades her junior, but she still felt a little defensive about the witch’s stare.
“Oh good grief, are you this insecure that you can't bear to coexist in a relationship if you’re not holding that card up your sleeve?”
“What? This has nothing to do with insecurity!”
“Of course it has! You always think everyone is out to get you, or potentially out to get you, and you think if they don’t know about you, then you always have an escape, a way to get the upper hand… And as soon as your secret is out, you want to bail.”
“No, not at all…” Marion shook her head vigorously. “It’s about self-preservation… If people know about me… Or someone like me… It just doesn’t fucking work, okay?”
“Why not?”
“Because if they want to destroy me, I’m… Very vulnerable for all hours of the day. Worse than a sitting duck. A comatose duck. And… A lot of people are afraid and…”
“I get that. But that doesn’t mean people will want to destroy you. I don’t, and I know.”
“Yeah, but if Logan finds out…”
“Do you think she would want to destroy you?”
The way Isabella hit the word ‘she’ on the sentence, stressing it with incredulity, really gave Marion pause. No, she didn’t think that would be Logan’s first instinct, though what she thought was irrelevant, of course. Mortals freaked out and acted irrationally. Besides, her secret was only safe when she was the only one that knew it. If more people knew, it was just a matter of time until it spread, and eventually reach someone that might want to hurt her. But the more she thought about it, the less conviction she had.
“Maybe not her but…”
“No, I don’t buy it.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean that I don’t buy that self-preservation thing. I mean, I think you are protecting yourself, but I don’t think you’re afraid me or Logan are going to burst into your room in the morning with a wooden stake…” Isabella said, seemingly growing more convinced of her own point, as she placed her hands on her waist and looked at Marion as if she had her all figured out. “I think you’re protecting your feelings.”
“What? That is ridiculous!”
“Is it? If nobody sees the real you, you never really get rejected, do you?” Isabella proposed. “Gosh, of course!”
“Are you serious? I’m a bloodsucking immortal and you think this is about feelings?”
“Of fucking course this is about feelings… Or do the other vampires also get all flustered talking to their roommates? Or, you know, trip over their words trying to approach a pretty girl?”
Marion opened her mouth but words didn’t come out of it. Of course, what the witch was saying was utterly ridiculous and there were many good reasons for a vampire to keep their identities secret. Of course she wasn’t doing that just to protect her feelings. The thought of it alone was laughable! Yet, she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like curling into a ball on the floor and shielding her face. And in her freshly fed state, it wasn’t hard for the blood to rush to her cheeks as she blushed in shame. And then she swallowed dry and closed her mouth, realizing finally that she had absolutely nothing to say.
Isabella’s face then shifted into something else. It wasn’t judgement or pity, the emotions Marion would more likely expect to read on her after all that. It was more like guilt. She pursed her lips, tilted her head and pressed a thumb against her left temple and rubbed in circles as she sighed and then cleared her throat.
“I’m… Really sorry. That was over the line.”
Marion dipped her head once in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything back. There wasn’t anything to say, she felt. But the silence in the wake of the apology was too uncomfortable to be left hanging and she eventually caved with an almost annoyed tone:
“That’s… Fine. I suppose. It’s been a really stressful night.”
“Yes, it has… And, Marion, I don’t want to put pressure on you, I don’t know what that was all about… But you can’t disappear on Logan. Not right now, at least.”
“I have to… But also, why not?”
“Because whoever that was, this address, or something close to it, is all they know about how to get to you. How long until they trace it to Logan? You disappearing from here won’t make her any safer, is what I mean. And that’s your real concern, isn’t it? Her safety?”
Marion's eyes opened wide and she turned around, feeling her cheeks burning as she wondered why the witch had such an easy time getting under her skin. To delay the moment she’d need to turn back and face Isabella, she started to walk towards the kitchen, reaching to pull the cat hoodie over her head, dirty and wet as it was, and tossing it in the hamper near the washing machine concealed in one of the cabinets. She didn’t care that Isabella would see her in the lacy bralette she had underneath it, but as she caught her reflection in the fridge doors, she could see the ugly black bruises all over her sides, where Skye’s kicks had landed. She considered going for another dose of blood, she had a little bit in reserve, but that would just be gluttony. She was full, and that was better saved for later.
And then she saw the witch’s reflection as a distorted blur in the mirror and turned around to catch Isabella leaning on her side against the kitchen counter and folding her arms, partially blocking Marion’s way out of the kitchen. She could easily manhandle the girl out of her way if she wanted, so the gesture was symbolic. But in truth, she wasn’t going to do that, and as such, Isabella's posture was clear. She wouldn’t be allowed to walk out of the conversation. Marion looked down into her own silver-burned wrists and stretched them towards the witch.
“Here, you wanted to see them, right?”
“M-hm,” Isabella hummed as she approached, and gently held both of Marion’s hands by the back of the palm to avoid contact with the burnt area.
There were blackened spots in Marion’s flesh as if charred, where silver had touched and lingered, and around them, her veins had turned dark and her pale skin had greyed. Isabella turned her wrists and manipulated her arms around slowly for a moment as Marion winced from the pain. Then the witch frowned in thought.
“Silver did this, huh?”
“Yes…”
“I thought silver was for werewolves,” Isabella commented in thought.
“It’s… I don’t know if werewolves exist, but I suppose it’s both,” Marion offered with a mild shrug.
“So… Your bruises…” Isabella pointed at Marion’s bare sides, prompting the vampire to look down and see the marks. “They are healing way faster than this…”
Marion looked down to see how her black marks had already turned purple and seemed a nudge smaller. Isabella wasn’t wrong, they would be gone by the time she went to her bedroom. But the wound on her wrists would take longer. Perhaps a whole week or more, depending on how well she fed in the interim.
“Yeah… Wounds caused by silver linger… I don’t know why.”
“Alchemically? It has to do with purity. Silver burns the ‘vampiric’ part of your essence, which, I’m guessing, it’s all of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s… A whole thing, I’ll explain later. But this is good,” Isabella said, releasing Marion’s wrists.
Marion resisted the urge to rub them, knowing how painful that would be and frowned towards the witch with some incredulity in her eyes.
“Good? How is this good?”
“Because if silver hurts you… Then it will hurt the woman who was after you too, right?”
“I mean… Probably. Yes, I think it’s pretty universal across my kin.” Marion tilted her head in thought.
“I know your first instinct is to run from this but… Logan needs you here to help me protect her,” Isabella said, “so I know you won’t be going anywhere. And if you won’t be going anywhere, we need to figure out how to beat this woman if she shows up again.”
“It’s… Not that easy.” Marion shook her head. “Besides, why are you so sure that I care about Logan’s safety? As far as you know I’m a manipulative sociopath that eats people.”
“Yeah… That’s not the vibe I get from you, Marion.”
“Then… What’s my ‘vibe’, Isabella?” Marion didn’t conceal her disdain for the expression as she stressed it with almost a growl.
“You’re scared. You might be very old but I look at you and I see a scared little girl who's afraid of her feelings,” Isabella said, closing her eyes and shrugging.
“Fuck you,” Marion spat.
“Whatever.” Isabella tossed her hands up in impatience. “You want me to just say it? I’ll say it then. You won’t ditch Logan because you like her. A lot.”
“W-what?”
“Oh, come on, the show’s over. I’ve been watching you two make eyes at each other all night before you went and kissed another girl to make her jealous or something and…”
Isabella suddenly stopped mid-sentence, as she thought about the club, and Marion was a little stunned by the words to understand what had given the witch pause. ‘Make eyes at each other’? Did that mean that Logan also felt something for her? Marion's mouth opened to ask that question, but by then Isabella had recovered from her stunned moment to ask abruptly:
“Did you… Bite that girl?”
“I… I did,” Marion admitted, with some shame.
“Did you… Kill her?”
“I never killed anyone, Isa. Ever.”
“Right, right… Okay, that makes me feel marginally better. I would hate to think I watched that happen and didn’t do anything.”
“Is this important?”
“No. It’s not. My point is, you like Logan, so you will stay and protect her… Right?”
For the first time, the witch seemed to be showing doubt, uncertainty. For the first time, she seemed to be unsure of what Marion would do next. Her voice carried a little bit of a plea, a request worded like a question for confirmation. Marion bit her lower lip and swallowed dry and then she said the absolute truth of her heart:
“I don’t know…”
“Look, if you can’t admit to yourself that you like her, then… Stay because you owe her.”
“Owe her?”
“She’s in trouble because she picked you up from the streets when you were bleeding – which by the way, what was that all about? – and so, yeah… You owe her. That has to count for something, right?”
Marion closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was too much. Too much and way too fast. Isabella was right, she was the reason Logan was in danger now, and her disappearing wouldn’t make her less in danger all of a sudden. She had to stay and help her if she could. But how could she? It was a miracle she survived her first tangling with Skye and Marion was sure her next encounter would end faster and far more lethal. And with how the woman moved, invisible, and how she fought… Marion would stand no chance. She might not even see her coming. What protection could she offer her roommate?
“I don’t know what I can do for her. I’m not… A heavy hitter, you know? That lady was.”
“Yeah, she seemed quite dangerous. But she didn’t have a bruja on her side, did she? I can help you.”
“Why? Why are you risking your life for Logan?”
“Because…” Isabella paused, looking down and blushing slightly, before she took a deep breath, exhaled and wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes, turned back to face the vampire. “She saved me too, okay? I owe her. Like you do. So, we will do this together, for the same reason.”
Marion had even more questions now, but she couldn’t be asking them all until daybreak. She nodded, realizing Isabella was right. She cared for Logan enough that she didn’t want anything bad happening to her in her conscience, or whatever she had left of it, for the rest of her life. Which could be anything from centuries to a couple of nights. The latter seemed very likely given her past couple of weeks.
“She was after me because… Well… Her thrall mentioned that I killed some guy. I don’t know who… My kin isn’t prone to investigating murders though, so… It must’ve been someone important,” Marion started to explain to Isabella. “I believe the guy was in the hospital? Or something? At any rate… I didn’t kill him, so she obviously has the wrong person. I don’t know how but…”
“…If we could find out what she’s after you for and find out who did it, she’d leave you alone?” Isabella completed.
“Yes, that’s what I’m thinking.”
“It’s a stretch.”
“Big one… That is about all I know about that,” Marion admitted with a sigh.
“It can be done though,” Isabella said.
“What? But how? Do you have a spell for that?”
“Nah, magic is a little more complicated than that,” she explained, “but… Well, this is a shot in the dark but… You wouldn’t happen to have some of that bitch’s blood, would you?”
Marion paused and turned her head to look at the hamper in the corner of the kitchen, near the cabinet hiding the washing machine. She remembered stabbing Skye across the thigh. For sure some of it would’ve gotten on her hoodie. When she turned back, she noticed how Isabella’s eyes had followed hers.
“I’m not sure… But it’s possible.”
“Then, I might know someone who could help put us on the right path.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Eh…” Isabella took a deep breath. “My mom.”
And thinking of Mother for a brief second, Marion didn’t need any additional explanation as to why Isabella seemed so reticent bringing the woman up. Trying something entirely new to her, she placed her hand on Isabella’s shoulder and delivered a squeeze, trying to sound friendly as she said:
“Eh… Mothers, am I right?”
