"Come on, Dante, pick up," I grumbled, dialing his number yet again.

It was close enough to closing time, and the shop was empty, so I decided to lock the doors and see if I could chase Dante down. I wasn't entirely sure how far he'd gotten, but it had only been a few minutes. He couldn't be too far away.

He wasn't picking up his phone, though, and that was a bit of a nuisance. Granted, he didn't always remember to turn the ringer on. He'd pick up eventually, but I needed to talk to him now.

This was important.

I fished in my bag for the necklace I kept stashed in the side pocket. My fingers found the chain easily, and I slipped it around my neck before I went out the door, locking it securely behind me.

Ever since the night of the vampire attack, I'd kept an invisibility pendant charged and in my purse just in case I had to walk home alone in the dark. Invisibility spells were time-consuming and tricky, but I wasn't risking that incident again.

Focusing on Dante's energy, I managed to locate the small, glowing thread that ran between the two of us. I grabbed onto it with one hand, using it as a kind of tracking device. He wasn't far— I could feel it. He was maybe a few blocks away at most.

I almost called out to him, but then I remembered the invisibility spell. It was probably a good idea to catch up and draw his attention in some way that wouldn't scare him to death, especially in this area of town.

We were near the park at this point. Dante was more than likely walking back to the Veil crossing to head home for the evening, but that also meant there was less lighting. The path had a few lights here and there, yes, but the natural areas were pitch black, and there were fewer streetlights and less ambient lighting than downtown.

I picked up my pace to a jog, planning to drop the invisibility spell and call out once I was close enough that he could see my face clearly, but I stopped when a figure emerged from the shadows.

The person was tall, but I couldn't make out their face as they approached Dante, and they had something I couldn't see clearly in their hand. They were dressed in all black, the hood of their jacket raised. A hooded figure at night was never a good plan.

A dizzying sense of dread sank into my bones. It was like I'd been here before, like I'd seen this already, and I knew that something bad was about to happen. I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

Dante turned, clearly on high alert, but the figure leapt into action before he even managed to get a word out.

The person surged forward, tackling Dante to the ground and nimbly dodging his attempts to lash out and free himself. I saw some kind of powder bomb go off, the white smoke cloud obscuring the two figures, and then Dante's movements slowed.

And then they stopped.

I sprinted towards them at a frantic pace, but I wasn't fast enough.

In a flash, the attacker pulled out a large hunting knife, the blade glinting in the dim park lighting, and plunged it into Dante's chest.

I skidded to a stop, trying not to scream.

Stop. Stop, or he'll kill you, too.

I had magic, but I wasn't strong. I couldn't fend off—

But I might be able to save Dante.

Invisibility charm still in place, I called up the Threads and watched, focusing entirely on Dante. I didn't really care about my Threads or the attacker at this point, as the person in black seemed to be standing and watching, not making any more moves. The blade had gone into Dante's chest, which meant it had to be silver-plated. Nothing else would be that effective on a Sylvan.

But... his lifeline, the one I had untied myself and allowed to flow free, was intact.

He might be immobile, but that strike hadn't killed him. Not yet, anyways. I still had time to do something once the attacker left— assuming he did leave. If he planned to stay here until Dante was certainly dead, that was a problem... but that I could do something about.

I focused on the trees this time, looking for Threads connected to them... and finally found one I could tug.

It didn't take much force to make a dying limb fall from one of the nearby oak trees, and it clattered on its way down. I couldn't make the sound of human footsteps, but I could do this. If it didn't make him think there were people around, it might at least make him twitchy.

The man in black flinched and turned towards the noise, looking away from Dante and I. He looked back to Dante's fallen form, over to the noise, and then seemed to think better of sticking around.

Mission successful.

The attacker turned around to face me, starting off towards the far edge of the park, white shirt sprayed with Dante's blood. The visceral impact of the red, even in the dim lighting, was enough to make me nauseous. He looked left and right, but my invisibility spell kept me concealed. I couldn't see his face in the shadows at first, just the white shirt and dark hair.

He stopped on the way out of the park to pick up what I realized was a dark motorcycle jacket off a bench, and slipped it on over his hoodie and shirt, zipping it up to cover the blood. When he turned to walk away, the glow of the streetlight caught just enough of his face that I could make out his features.

I clapped my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

It was Calen.

It was Calen, wearing a shirt covered in Dante's blood. It was Calen, tucking a silver-plated dagger back into some hidden holster on his belt. It was Calen, slipping on the motorcycle jacket I'd been pressed against on rides out of town.

I couldn't panic about my horrible romantic choices now, though. Dante was more important.

I forced myself not to move until Calen was out of sight. I heard his motorcycle engine start, and then waited until it petered off into the sound of crickets before I changed my position.

All the time I waited, though, I kept my eye on Dante's Threads. They were still there— not ending, not broken off, but his heartbeat was growing slower by the second.

The second it was safe, I yanked the invisibility charm off my neck and ran forward, dropping to the ground beside him.

There was a horrible, wet, red stain on his ripped blue shirt. He stared blankly up at the tree branches high overhead, fingers slightly twitching, but otherwise not moving. I was utterly relieved to find that he was breathing, though.

Still alive. I still had time. I just needed to keep my cool long enough to make good use of it.

"I've got you," I crooned, brushing his hair back from his face. "I've got you. You'll make it, I promise."

He had to. I would make sure he got through this, no matter what. I wasn't going to let him leave me before his time, not after all this.

Dante blinked at me, but it didn't seem like he could talk. His lips moved, but no sound came out, probably as a result of whatever powder Calen sprayed him with— Calen! I'd have to worry about all that later, though. For now, he was losing far too much blood, and that was more serious than any kind of paralysis.

I pulled apart his shirt to get a look at the wound. It was deep, and obviously still bleeding heavily, but I wasn't sure that the hunting knife actually made it through his rib cage. Strike to the heart was dramatic, but it wasn't the most practical.

I'd never done magic with the Threads before. I wasn't sure how, but at this point, I was working on instinct. I grabbed for Dante's lifeline and wrapped the Thread around his wrist, praying this would work. I'd never been one for healing magic, but maybe the Threads could make up for that.

"Restituite," I muttered, hoping I'd picked the right word. The imperative case wasn't my strongest point.

Almost immediately, the bleeding stopped. It was difficult to tell at first, but the blood wasn't spreading any more. Then, very slowly, the wound began to knit itself closed.

The blood loss was the most concerning thing, but this did more than that. It seemed to fast forward time itself— or maybe rewind it— to return Dante's body to its original state. Or, almost original. It did leave a fresh scar behind, but the magic did what it was supposed to do, powered by the Threads itself and my commanding word.

It... worked.

Holy shit, it worked.

A little of his range of motion seemed to return in addition to the healed slash. He flexed his fingers and took a deep breath, which understandably made him cough. I nearly slumped over in sheer relief just from seeing him regain a little control.

I couldn't stop now, though. He'd still lost a lot of blood, and that was a danger in itself. I wasn't a paramedic, and I couldn't exactly give him an IV, but... Well, he was a vampire. Maybe a bite would be enough to get him on his feet.

"Drink," I said, pressing my arm against his lips.

"I don't want to," he rasped. He tried to shake his head, but I could see his fangs trying to extend from hunger already.

"The blood will help heal you, right? Do it," I said, shoving my arm against his lips, already bracing for the bite. He seemed hesitant, but Dante knew as well as I did that he needed the blood.

Dante had bitten me before, but he'd never actively taken my blood before. It was a very, very different experience being bitten without blood drinking involved and being bitten with blood drinking.

The vampire who had tried to kill me wasn't as gentle as Dante, though. Instead of ice running through my veins, I only felt a small chill. It was uncomfortable at first, but not unbearable.

And then the worst possible thing happened: a car pulled up beside where we were on the sidewalk and stopped there.

I kept walking. I didn't want to move much faster for Dante's sake, but I couldn't just stop and stand there while someone in a car was definitely staring at us. At best, they thought Dante was drunk and wanted to help. At worst, we'd end up on TikTok the next day. Somewhere in the middle of all that was the possibility that they'd seen the blood and called the police.

"Sunday," someone called.

I flinched and stopped, turning around on instinct.

The driver had rolled down the window, and apparently they knew my name. I squinted, trying my best to see whose face it was, but once I recognized him... Well, I was more confused than anything.

"R— Ray?" I stuttered, blinking.

My regular shop patron stopping by to see if we needed help was not anything I expected. I'd known Ray far longer than I'd known Calen, and he'd actually been coming to the shop even longer than Dante had, though we had less extended conversations. It wasn't surprising that he'd recognized me, especially with the purple hair, but... Why was he here?

"Get in," he said, nodding towards the back.

Uh. No. Hell, no. After the attempts on my life, there was no way I'd let someone I barely knew drive me to an unknown place in the dark. Part of me wondered if this was some elaborate trick set up by Calen, if he somehow knew I was here already, and maybe Ray was just supposed to clean everything up.

"I'm not getting into a car with—"

"He's Sylvan, right? He needs help. Get in."

Not wrong, but this seemed a little too convenient.

"Why the hell should I trust you?" I hissed. "You could just kill us and dump the bodies!"

"If I planned to kill you, I'd already have done it."

"That's what they all say," I grumbled.

"Because I'm your damn father, and I'm not letting my daughter get killed when that psycho comes back to make sure he's dead!" he snapped. "Get. In. The car."

I blinked, breathing hard, grabbing onto Dante a little more tightly. I had to support him right now, so there was no room for wobbly legs from sheer shock in this equation. It was a good excuse, but Calen also knew that I never grew up with my dad. It was an easy thing someone, anyone at all, to claim as an excuse.

I bit my lip, concentrating enough to look at Ray's Threads. I couldn't see the truth in his motives from the, but I could certainly see if he was telling the truth about being my father. If he was, there should be a very specific Thread connecting the two of us.

It took a few seconds to find it. I hadn't seen my dad since I was a bitty baby, and I certainly didn't remember any of that, but if there was a biological connection, the Threads should have recorded it to some degree. It felt like I'd been searching for hours by the time I identified the Thread, but there it was.

It was a three-stranded braid, it ran from Ray to me, and it glowed red.

Contrary to popular legend, red threads didn't necessarily indicate love. They did indicate biological connection, though. The Thread between my mom and I was red.

He was my dad.

I wasn't sure if I was glad he was telling the truth, pissed he hadn't said something all the times I'd seen him before, or really upset that this was how I found out who my dad was.

My... my Sylvan dad.

Technically, he could still be working for Calen. That might just have to be a bridge we burned when we got there, though. For the moment, Dante needed help, and we both seriously needed to get out of here.

"Let's get inside," I said to Dante, stepping forward.

"You're sure?" He looked over at me, and his blue eyes had dark circles under them.

"I'm sure." I set my jaw, trying my best not to look nervous.

That was enough for him, apparently, and he let me help him into the back seat of the car without complaint. I closed the door and got into the passenger seat, and Ray didn't even give me a chance to buckle in before he peeled away from the curb.

Ray pulled off the main downtown streets and onto country backroads as soon as he possibly could. One thing people don't always understand about the backroads: it's dark. It's not the kind of dark you think of on the edge of town, though, or even in a suburban neighborhood. It's the kind of dark where your headlights are the only light, often for miles around.

We sped around curves much faster than we should have, winding through trees, navigating by the dimmest setting on the headlights. I wondered why he didn't bother turning his brights on, considering there was no one around.

I wasn't sure if I should ask.

I wasn't sure what to say at all.

"Uh... dad?" I began, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

"You can still call me Ray, if that's easier," he said, eyes locked on the road.

"Ray, then," I said, feeling a little more comfortable with that. "Where are we going?"

"My house. And before you ask, yes, I was keeping an eye on you."

"Wh— why?" I squeaked.

"It's dangerous for ladies to walk home alone at night."

"Ray," I deadpanned.

He sighed.

"I was planning to come into the shop for some herbs, but I saw you walking out and locking up right after I parked. I was going to turn around, but you looked like you were a little panicked, and I was curious, and then I saw you put on that invisibility charm, so I followed—"

"You tailed me with an invisibility charm in place? How?!" I stuttered.

"I'll teach you later. The plants always know when there's someone around, though. It doesn't matter if you're invisible," he said, shrugging.

"Oh," I mumbled, feeling a little lightheaded.

We didn't speak the rest of the way to the safe house. I was a little too overwhelmed to talk to Ray, though I did monitor Dante almost constantly via his Threads. His breathing was shallow and labored, but his lifeline was stable. That was good. Monitoring him both gave me something to focus on so that I didn't have to think about the fact that my latest boyfriend was a murderer and let me tell myself I wasn't talking to Ray because I had something else to do.

I wasn't sure if Ray even wanted to talk to me, anyways.

The safe house was more like a gigantic cabin in the foothills, tucked away down a disused dirt road in the middle of a wide expanse of forest. The entire thing was surrounded by trees, and besides that I couldn't make out much of the outward appearance in the dark. There wasn't even a single light nearby except for the car headlights and the moon.

"Let's get inside," Rae said, cutting the lights.

It was a little difficult to help Dante up the steps in pitch black darkness, but we managed it. He was heavy, and most of his weight was on me. I was out of shape, so by the time we all got inside, I was panting. Ray locked the door behind us before he turned on the living area lights. I thought we probably looked at least as bad as we felt, Dante in his bloodstained clothes and me in my rumpled pink t-shirt, torn black shorts, and black stockings torn at the knees where I'd slid down to help Dante mid-run.

Oh. My knees were bleeding, too. I hadn't even noticed.

"Are you as tired as I am?" Dante tried to crack a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. I was sure that when I tried to smile back, I had the same problem.

He was upright and no longer bleeding, but there were dark circles under his eyes, and his breathing was labored. His skin felt like it was on fire where it touched mine, he swayed with every step, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

I shuffled him inside as quickly as I could, struggling to support him as I locked and bolted the door behind us. Exhausted or not, I'd need to check the wards on this place before I slept. Maybe I could ask Ray what the system was.

The inside of the house was surprisingly cozy. The walls were bare logs with plaster filling in an older construction style. I wasn't sure if the house itself was old, or if it was simply designed to look old, but it didn't matter as long as it was sturdy. Blackout curtains blocked all the windows, and the door bolted three ways. Looking closer, I could also see a few warding sigils carved into the locks. That was good.

"Shower or sleep?" Ray asked, pulling over a chair for Dante. "We've got clean clothes you can borrow, too."

"Sleep," Dante said almost immediately. I could understand the urge, but there were still things to do before he could rest, unfortunately.

"Do you have a sewing kit?" I asked, turning to Ray. "I want to stitch his wing."

"Good plan," he said, and turned to rummage in one of the kitchen drawers. It wasn't exactly a comprehensive kit, but it had a needle and sturdy cotton thread, and that was all I needed. "I'll go grab those clothes while you work."

I threaded the needle, then bit my lip as I pierced the wing tissue. It was strange to stitch together something alive. I'd never even tried to learn to sew sutures, squeamish as I was. At least for this, there wasn't any blood, but it was still a little odd to think about.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, carefully placing the fibers of the massive butterfly wings together so that the pattern lined up exactly. I'd done enough sewing in my time that it was a simple task... as long as I didn't think too hard about what I was stitching.

"No," he rasped, shaking his head. "We have very few nerve endings in our wings. It's everything else that hurts."

That was good, sort of. That helped me think about it a little more like fabric than a wing.

I stitched in silence for several minutes, trying very hard not to think about Calen or anything else that had happened today. I failed miserably, obviously. All I could do was keep my attention on the wing, on making the stitches as straight and perfect and sturdy as they needed to be so that Dante could heal. That much helped force the rest of it away, at least for a minute.

"Thank you. It would have eventually set on its own from magic, but... this will help greatly," he admitted, though he slumped in a way that looked like he was about to fall off the chair.

"Let's get you to bed," I said, slipping my arm around him to help him up.

Ray directed us to a spare bedroom at the back of the house. The bed was enormous— definitely king-sized, which was a little odd for a spare room, but it sort of made sense if Sylvans regularly used this place. Some Sylvans could shift into animal forms that were simply gigantic, and some had animal features that needed a bit of extra room, like Dante's wings.

We had to cut his old shirt off, but we managed to get a clean shirt over his head, and I was surprised that there were already slits in the back to accommodate his wings. They started at the shoulder blades and went straight down to the hem, and after the shirt was on, they buttoned in place underneath where his wings attached to his back.

Dante lay on his stomach on the mattress, wings stretched out over him like a natural blanket. I gently smoothed his butterfly wings, then brushed his curly, white hair out of his face.

"Do you need any more blood?" I asked, but he only shook his head.

"I can't take too much at once from you. Then we'll both be in trouble."

"I'll call my mom in the morning. She might be able to get us some," I muttered. Witch mom working at a hospital was pretty convenient when you had a vampire in need of blood. I wasn't sure if she'd want to do it or not, but I could at least ask.

... And then it dawned on me that I'd also have to tell her where I was and who had picked me up.

Shit.

This might be more complicated than I thought.

"Maybe I should call her now, actually..." I muttered, taking a step towards the door.

"Please don't leave," Dante whispered, and the tone of his voice almost broke me.

The phone call could wait. I'd text her for now, just to let her know I was safe, but I wasn't going to just abandon him after all that.

"I won't," I said softly. "I'm here."

Slowly and carefully, I tucked myself in under the top portion of one of his wings, my back resting on a pillow propped against the headboard. Dante's arm draped over my lap, and I carefully ran my fingers through his hair.

While I had the opportunity, I took a look at his Threads. The lifeline was running strong, thank goodness, and the others had recovered as well. As things stood, Dante would make it through this and go on to live a long life. Things were still serious in the moment, of course, but with proper care, he'd be okay. That much knowledge gave me some comfort.

Then something caught my eye that I hadn't seen before— a new Thread.

It ran from my chest down to Dante, sparkling in the darkness.

I'd never noticed anything running between us before. It wasn't unusual for friends to have Threads tying them together, but I'd never seen anything quite like this one before. Instead of glowing a color, like the golden cord between Calen and I, or even the red generational cord running between my mother and grandmother, this one was... clear? Sparkling? Crystalline might be the best way to put it.

The line looked like flexible crystal, perhaps a little holographic, reflecting the dim light in a strange way. Even stranger, it didn't look like one Thread. Instead, it appeared to be two of them twisted together in a strong cord.

I didn't know the connection between us was strong enough to form a single cord, much less anything verging on braided.

My chest tightened as I looked down at Dante's sleeping form.

At least I had a minute to think now. Calen... Calen had tried to kill Dante. It stung, it confused me, it hurt me, but I mostly couldn't understand why he'd done it. He said he was all about brokering peace between witches and Sylvans, and he'd clearly lied.

What was the point of lying?

I might have wondered if his Witch's Mark was even real if I hadn't seen the Threads myself. It was, though, and that made me feel sick to my stomach.

What did I do to deserve a murderer as my soul mate?

Was I a horrible person, I wondered? Was it something in my past that I only now had to pay the price for? If the one person in the world who was supposed to be my match, if we were meant to balance in every single way, then...

Who was I supposed to be?