I was out with Calen, and it was like a dream.

I'd expected a nice dinner or a cute little café, but instead, he'd packed a picnic for us and driven out to a quiet space in a local park. Strangely enough, I didn't recognize it— there were wrought-iron fences and oil lamps on posts, fresh green grass under the soft picnic blanket, and candles set up all around the picnic area. Fireflies danced in the distance, more of them than I'd ever seen at once.

Instead of the leather jacket and v-neck T-shirt I'd seen him in a couple of times before, Calen wore dark dress pants and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, complete with suspenders. There was a little stubble on his jaw from where he hadn't shaved in a day or so, and I instinctively leaned in to kiss his cheek as I examined it.

I traced my fingers across his skin as he chuckled, entertaining the passing thought that my nails had gotten rather long for apothecary work, and I should cut them soon. Calen distracted me with a kiss, though, and soon I wasn't worried about the length of my nails.

He lowered me down gently onto the picnic blanket, his hand moving under my white, knee-length skirt to slide over my stockings.

Since when did I wear knee length skirts or stockings? Or white?

That was when Calen reached out, looking down with a smile as he fiddled with my hair, combing his fingers through it. I could feel the gentle resistance as he worked out the tangles, see his mouth move as he murmured something. I could only pick out part of it.

"You're good to me, my sweet Angel," he said, eyes locked on mine. It was so soft that it took an effort to make out, and yet it felt loud. It felt significant.

That was when he picked up a lock of my hair, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. I knew it was my hair. I could feel the shift as his fingers traced along my scalp to separate the single lock from the rest, see that it came from where I was lying as he held it up, but...

My hair was blonde?

Almost against my will, I surged to a sitting position and kissed him again, but I wasn't even consciously thinking about it this time. His hands were on my waist, pulling me closer, but I was incredibly confused how I ended up like this.

I wondered when I'd changed from my usual pink and purple dye job as I fell back against the blanket....

... And hit my head on something very hard, and very much not fabric.

I wasn't like a dream. It was a dream.

I was so absolutely exhausted from my evening of the worst kind of blood donation that I'd fallen asleep on my own counter, door completely unlocked. It was a good thing no one had just wandered in while I was practically out cold.

I pressed my hand to my throbbing forehead where it had smacked against the wooden apothecary counter. It's lucky I owned the business and was the sole employee— I couldn't get fired for falling asleep on the job, and I didn't have to worry about anyone questioning why I was this tired.

In general, "I was bitten by a vampire" wasn't an acceptable excuse in the workplace.

At least it had led to a nice dream, if only for a little while. I couldn't figure out exactly why I'd been blonde in the dream, either, or why Calen had been calling me "angel." It sounded a little like a pet name, but it hadn't felt like a pet name at the time. It felt like an actual name.

That didn't make any sense, obviously, as my name wasn't anything close to that.

I hugged my knees to my chest with one arm, using my free hand to reach for my mug of tea.

It was cold, unsurprisingly, so I'd need to heat it up in the way of tea heathens and hypocrites: the microwave under the counter. I must have been asleep for at least thirty or forty-five minutes for the tea to fully reach room temperature.

While the microwave ran, I retrieved my notebook from under the desk and started to write down what I had dreamed, just in case I might forget it in the future. The tea would help, too, once it was warm again. Rosemary and rooibos always helped me think, and after that dream... it felt like some serious thought was in order.

I might have brushed it off as a random thing, but I'd heard the words coming out of my own mouth. I'd seen Calen, as he was, and he was talking to... not me? Someone? Someone he loved. I wondered if it was just an unfortunate side effect of my massive, massive crush on him, but... that felt different.

It felt like something I needed to pay attention to... but it could also have just been my subconscious, and possibly hormonal, brain taking the wheel.

Calen seemed incredibly calm and collected about discovering that we were soul mates. I could only hope that I was at least half as calm on the outside, because I was still panicking internally.

Rubbing my eyes, I went back to... what on earth was I doing when I fell asleep, anyways?

Oh. The books. No wonder I fell asleep.

Financials were far and away the worst part of any business. If I could, I'd make things solely for the opportunity to help out the community, but a witch has to make a living somehow. Luckily, I was in the black for this week, but that wasn't always the case. Small business were kind of the worst, in a lot of ways, but I also couldn't think of anything else I'd rather do.

Thus, second quarter financial tallies, my true nightmare of the day, had to be finished.

I worked on the math for another hour or so without interruption, half wishing I'd just stayed asleep. That would only mean I'd have to do it later, but... okay, yeah, there was no upside to that one. I didn't really want any more of those strange Calen dreams anyhow.

I definitely wasn't hoping it was him when I saw a shadow approaching the shop from the corner of my eye, either. Nope. I wasn't hoping that at all.

It wasn't him, though, and my mood did not drop a little when I saw it was Dante. Button-down, bright vest, and cravat, he certainly looked like a full-on vampire today, even though he wasn't dressed in black. It was the nineteenth-century vibes. I was glad to see him, but... Well, it wasn't the same as if Calen had come by.

The door swing open, and I didn't even have time to get a word out.

"In light of last night's incident, I've been authorized to offer you protection on behalf of the Sylvan Council and the Sylvan Royal Court," he said in lieu of a greeting, marching straight over to where I was sitting.

"Good morning to you, too," I scoffed, but it was in good humor.

"Excuse me," Dante said, sighing. "Good morning, fair maiden, blah blah. How's that?"

His expression was completely straight-faced, and I couldn't help but laugh loudly, covering my mouth with my hands to muffle the sound. He had a surprisingly good sense of humor, and no doubt he knew it too. Dante grinned at me in a way that showed his vampire fangs, but quickly sobered.

"In all seriousness, we need to talk about your protection," he said, leaning against the counter.

"What kind of protection?" I raised an eyebrow, closing the ledger more out of habit than anything.

"The kind where you're offered a place to stay at the court and a set of guards keeping constant watch." He winced as he spoke, like he knew I wouldn't enjoy the idea of it. He was right, too.

"It... sounds like I'm being offered a very comfortable prison," I said, sighing as I leaned against the front counter.

Dante grumbled, but he didn't deny it.

"We won't force your hand," he said firmly. That's something I'm firm on."

"You specifically are firm on that?" I asked, brows raising.

"I value the integrity of interactions with others," Dante said, looking away, but his cheeks slowly began to turn red. "One can never be trusted in complex situations without loyalty in simple ones."

"This is simple?"

"You're in danger. We need to find a way to stop that. It seems simple enough to me." Dante shrugged as though it really was the simplest plan in existence.

He had a point, in a way.

I wasn't ready to give up my freedom, though. I wanted to keep living my life as long as I could, and if Dante had been assigned to guard me, I didn't see why that wouldn't keep working. The fireball incident was over, and nothing else even close to that had happened.

"I'll... think about it," I said carefully, but I think he knew it was mostly to appease him.

I was about to change the subject to something completely innocuous, anything to get a little bit of breathing room to think about this, but something else caught my attention first.

Dante's shadow wings were behind him, as usual. I assumed they were glamored and invisible to most people— the ones that didn't have a gift of True Sight or weren't... well, me. What caused me alarm, though, were his Threads.

Firstly, I could see a new one forming between the two of us. That was par for the course. Two people spending time together and forming any kind of attachment would likely form a Thread. It might be temporary, it might break on its own, and it might not designate any sort of romantic attachment.

Secondly, and more concerningly, I could see where several of his Threads simply... stopped.

That wasn't good. That was something you saw in hospital intensive care wards and by car crashes. Threads stopping happened at sickbeds and elder care facilities. Dante, a perfectly healthy young man, should not have to worry about his Threads stopping any time soon.

It was in the future. Maybe... a week? Two? It was hard to tell time by the lengths of the Threads themselves, but when they stopped, it was clear. Rather than looping and spiraling on into forever, looking at them caused a kind of... jerking sensation. It was like scrambling backwards after realizing you'd unknowingly stepped up to the edge of a cliff. I wasn't sure what happened if I jumped off past those Threads, and I didn't want to know. It wasn't a peaceful sensation, either. It was... violent. Choking off. The lines and colors didn't peter out into the thin lines of a peaceful passing. They stopped in knots, the frayed ends of cut cords hanging in some strange metaphysical middle space that only I could see.

He must have seen it on my face, too, because Dante suddenly tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he stared me down.

"What's wrong? What do you see?" he asked quickly, looking around like there was a bee or a fly, but there was nothing for him to see.

I panicked, stuttering as I tried and failed to find words.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. This was the worst I'd seen in a long time, and the worst I'd ever seen for someone this close to me.

Dante was slated for a violent death.

"Dante..." I said slowly, staring at the Threads. "I need your permission to do something."

I could do something about it. I could stop it. I had time.

That would be breaking one of my rules, though. I'd made those not only for my own safety, but the safety of others. If I did this wrong, the backlash would be severe and irreversible.

Rule Three: Never meddle in someone else's Threads.

"Alright," Dante said, though he looked a bit concerned. "You... have it?"

I needed to explain fully, or as fully as I could without seriously scaring him. I also needed to work fast, and in more ways than one. The Thread working window was small, especially with something coming on as fast as this. There was also another figure coming towards the shop door, and it was probably a random customer who wouldn't know about the Threads. Best not to talk about it in front of them.

"Listen, we might need to talk about this later, but—" was all I managed before the shop door opened again.

I seriously needed to start having important conversations somewhere we were less likely to be interrupted. Annoyed, I turned to the door without bothering to hide my frown, only to see exactly the person I'd been wanting to see walking towards me.

"Calen!" I said, a wide smile crossing my face before I could help it. All the aforementioned irritation immediately melted away when I saw him, replaced by shaking jolts of pure adrenaline.

"Busy morning," Dante murmured, eyebrows raised.

"Hello, darling," Calen said lightly, bringing his hand out from behind his back to reveal a small bouquet in a vase. "I brought flowers."

"I thought you weren't dating anyone?" Dante asked, sounding just a hair like a protective older brother.

"We're... um..." I fumbled, taking the flowers mostly so I could hide behind them. "We're soul mates. Our Witch's Marks match."

Surely he'd heard the legends at some point?

"You're what?" Dante began, but he didn't have time to continue questioning.

"Give me time to woo her a little, will you?" Calen said, laughing as he extended his hand for a shake. "I'm Calen."

"Dante." He nodded calmly, but did not smile as they shook hands.

The analog clock on the wall had never sounded louder as I looked back and forth between them. There was tension, but I couldn't figure out exactly where it was coming from, and I wasn't exactly sure how to break it, either.

I was not known for my communication skills, if you couldn't tell. Speaking without speaking doesn't work for me. This weird exchanging glances thing? Nope. No clue what was happening.

Finally, Dante decided to have mercy on me as I put down the glass vase and reached for the ledger, almost ready to go back to staring at financial calculations rather than sit silently in whatever strange vibe had taken over.

"Okay, then, I will... leave you to your strangely sexual eye contact," Dante muttered, clearing his throat.

"Have a good day, Dante," I said, choosing to ignore his last comment as I waved.

"Give me a call if you need anything," he said, digging in his inner jacket pocket for a moment before he produced a small notepad and a pen. "I'm writing down my number for you."

"You... have a phone? Like, a human phone?" I asked, brow furrowing. I always thought Sylvans didn't favor human technology, considering that their territory on the other side of the Veil was basically a pocket dimension. There were no electrical lines, wi-fi hookups, or cell towers in sylvan lands.

"I'm a perfectly modern man, thank you," Dante said, rolling his eyes as he ripped off a piece of paper and handed it to me. "You have a good day, too, Sunday."

I tucked the paper in my pocked as I watched him walk out the door without another word. The mood seemed to lift a little, but disappointment still sat deep in my chest. I wanted Dante to like Calen, and the fact that he was suspicious bothered me, and probably more than it should.

We were friends, and it was natural to want your friends to approve of someone you were interested in, right? Maybe it was just the Sylvan and witch tension, though.

He'd come around. Surely he would. After all, Calen was my soul mate.

It would all work out in the end.

"He's Sylvan?" Calen asked, eyebrow raised as he glanced towards the front door and newly repaired window. "Or does he just dye his hair that color?"

"He's Sylvan, and one of my regular customers." I shrugged, glancing briefly out the newly repaired window as Dante walked away from the shop.

I wanted to tell Calen about what was happening. But... honestly, I was scared. I might be forced to tell him at some point, of course, but for now I was fine with the idea of him living in blissful ignorance.

"You don't think he could have...?" He raised his eyebrows, pointedly glancing towards the window.

"No!" I protested, shaking my head. "No, there's no way. He's... really helped me out before."

"And you're certain he isn't double crossing you so that you let down your guard?" Calen asked, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm nervous for your safety."

I... admittedly was trying not to think about that.

The vampire attack could have been orchestrated as an opportunity for Dante to swoop in and save me. He could have been spying on me this entire year, just as I'd initially suspected. It might be far-fetched, but my mind was fuzzy from confusion. I didn't want to believe that Dante could be out to kill me, but how well did I truly know him?

Nausea roiled in my stomach as I thought about our encounter last night. If Dante wanted to hurt me, he'd had plenty of opportunities to do so... but I couldn't shake the creeping fear that maybe he was only biding his time.

"I'll be okay," I insisted. "He comes by the shop a lot. It's not like he has incredible amounts of influence over my life."

... Mostly. Depending on how that whole thing with the Sylvan Council went. And even then, it would be my choice. I didn't have to trust them if I didn't want to.

"Alright. I'll trust your judgement," Calen conceded. "Besides, we have more important things to do."

"Wait— is dinner tonight?" I stammered, adrenaline spiking. "I thought it was Saturday!"

"No, no," Calen said, waving his hands. "I just thought you might want to grab coffee. Go for a ride, maybe?"

"A ride?" I asked, unable to keep the smile off my face.

"You'll see," he said, winking.