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Chapter Text

There’s a scrabbling outside of Juliette’s window. 

She’s been half conscious for hours, suspended somewhere between wakeful tears and slumbering guilt, but her senses prick up at the noise, like her body can tell that it’s something important. 

Juliette peeks over the window frame, and the garden below is lit terribly. For a moment, all she sees is the creeping ivy that trails lazily up the trellis below her, but the clouds shift, the breeze picks up, the moonlight sharpens, and her instinct kicks in. 

Cal. 

Juliette would know her anywhere. 

Cal is loitering outside, like in that one dream, right after the severing. She has a handful of rocks that she’s nervously shuffling in one hand, and she’s still wearing the sweats and the sleeveless tee from earlier. Her shoulders are hunched, and her eyes are shifting anxiously, but seeing her calms something in Juliette right away. 

They had just had a fight. A bad one, yes, but all of the fights were bad when their families were involved. Calliope showing up, being here, now, was a sign that she wants to work through things too. 

Juliette knew Cal loved her back. 

She leans out the window slightly, and she can feel a toothy grin ease across her face. 

“Cal, hey,” Juliette greets. She can’t even conceal the relief in her tone. 

Calliope looks up, so obviously uncomfortable, Juliette longs to be down in the garden to comfort her. 

“Hey,” Cal is quiet. She looks over her shoulder quickly, like she hears rustling, and Juliette can see a quiet panic written on her face when she looks back up. “Can we talk?” 

That’s all Juliette has wanted, all night long. She beams brightly, then tries to mask it, sensing, somehow, that Cal might not be on the same wavelength.

“Come up?” Juliette asks hopefully, cocking her head slightly. Cal looks over her shoulder once more, the darkness almost swallowing her uncharacteristically diminutive frame, then shakes her head once. 

“Could you come down? I want to stay outside, if that’s okay,” Cal’s shoulders shrink in on herself as she speaks. She hugs herself tightly, hands alternating between squeezing and scratching at her arms. 

Juliette has never seen her this unsure. 

It’s unsurprising. All the events of the past few days, everything tonight, with Theo — it’d be almost too much for anyone to bear. 

And no matter how beautifully bold, brave, and strong Cal was, she is still only a kid at the end of the day. They both are. 

Juliette is just happy Cal’s here to see her. 

She nods quickly to respond to Cal, gestures with one finger to indicate for Cal to wait, then pulls on slippers and a robe, in case there was a breeze. It was always better safe than sorry with Savannah nights. 

She pads quietly down the stairs, noticing that her parents door is firmly shut. She can hear soft breathing, but only from one set of lungs — her father’s lost humanity always manifests in unconscious, practiced moments. If he’s sleeping peacefully, though, it means her mother must be curled up beside him; they are never far from one another. 

Juliette wants a love like that. Even when the rest of the world is falling apart around them, her parents manage to make their romance look golden. It’s like the rest of the world disappears for them. 

They’re proof that humans and vampires can find a way to make it work. 

Juliette is so happy Cal wants to make it work. 

She hurries once she makes it to the ground floor, too excited to care if she makes too much noise. 

She’s out the side door, and she can’t quite see Cal yet, so she ducks around one of her mother’s rose bushes until she’s close to where her window is. 

Cal’s silhouette under the moonlight is striking; Cal’s defined muscles and long, slim limbs have a subtle glow. She’s breathtaking. 

Juliette has to stop. She rests one hand on the wall, pausing to admire the girl she loves. The girl she knows loves her back. 

And then she calls out, quiet, but excited. “Cal!”

Cal’s head turns, and her face is stoic, almost…sad? 

There’s a sharp snap in the bushes across from Juliette. Her ears prick up, but she isn’t sure if something is actually wrong. 

“Cal?” Juliette is looking at the girl in front of her, half-worried that some rogue monster or another has followed her here. 

Cal is looking straight at her, and the stoicism melts away, replaced by a small smile. 

“Hey Jules,” Cal says. Juliette’s tension abates. She relaxes her shoulders, takes quick steps into the clearing, and stops an arms length in front of Cal. 

“Hey,” Juliette smiles up at her. “You wanted to talk?” 

Cal is looking over Juliette’s shoulder, though. Cal’s heart is beating out of rhythm. Cal isn’t looking her in the eye. 

“Cal?” Juliette tries again. She lifts one hand halfway between them, reaching out to grab at Cal’s hand. 

Cal flinches away and cuts her eyes back to Juliette. Their eyes lock. Why does Cal look so conflicted? Another rustle from behind her. 

There’s a dull thud, and Juliette is falling, a dark cloud playing over her vision, her knees buckling. 

The last thing she sees before she loses her sight completely is Calliope Burns, majestic as ever, kneeling beside her, tying her hands with burning silver chains.

The world goes black.

Juliette startles awake. 

Her eyes are still closed and her mouth is dry. She’s lying on her side, chained to the floor, and her wrists are raw and sore. She thinks she’s barefoot, can’t feel her slippers, which sends a pang of disappointment through her. Those slippers were her favorites. 

The back of her head is pounding where something must have hit her, and she can tell the room she’s being held in is brightly lit. There are people moving around, too; she can hear three distinct heartbeats. 

One that she knows especially well. 

She doesn’t want to open her eyes, not without knowing what’s coming next, but they must have been watching her closely, because there’s a boot nudging at her ribs. 

“Up,” comes a gruff voice, and Juliette blearily blinks her eyes open. 

Jack Burns is squatting down in front of her, silver dagger in one hand. In the other he holds…a spray bottle? 

Not exactly how she wanted to spend time with the in-laws.

Juliette’s brain is moving too slowly to fully comprehend what’s happening. She feels like every connection in her body is sluggish, like there’s not enough oxygen going to her brain. 

She’s not sure what she’s feeling right now. It must be some awful dream, some nightmare brought on by the bond because of how things went with Calliope. She must be making this up. 

There’s no way Calliope would promise to keep her safe and then lead her into a trap. 

“I said up, blood sucker!” and the boot to her stomach that follows leaves her retching and gasping for breath. 

She’s panting hard when she finds out what the spray bottle is for. Jack presses it gently and there’s a mist of fire burning across her skin. 

Holy water. Excellent. 

She hisses involuntarily and her fangs make a brief appearance, as they always do when her body decides there’s imminent danger. She pulls them back, but Jack takes it as an excuse to dig the tip of his boot into her ribs again.

Juliette is almost impressed at how accurately he manages to hit the same spot over and over. 

She rolls onto one elbow heavily, then has to pause to catch her breath. There’s a pounding in her ears, but she’s not sure if the sound is just echoing heartbeats from the other people in the room, or if something tore in her ear when she was hit in the head. 

She heals fast, usually. But when she has access to blood. When her mom knows where she is. 

Juliette wants her mom now. 

But Jack Burns is impatient, and she can hear him shuffle closer, so she presses herself awkwardly off the ground, trying to protect her ribs and muffle a groan. 

She leans her back up against the nearest support, a skinny pole, too small to provide any real comfort, and her head tips back. There’s something wet and thick leaking down her forehead, and if her senses weren’t so overwhelmed, she’s sure she’d be able to smell copper. 

She winces once, then forces her eyes open. She can’t brace against the light, so she squints, vaguely making out the shapes of Calliope and the other brother, the loud one. He’s pacing, hands behind his head, and she can’t make out his expression, but she thinks she can hear his heart racing, thinks she feels the vibration of every nervous twinge in his body. 

Calliope is further away, and not facing her. Her posture is stiff, shoulders squared, Juliette can tell even from far away. She can’t hear Calliope’s heart, but she’s sure — well, she hopes that Cal’s worried, and working on a plan to get her out. 

Juliette thinks about earlier that night, when Cal promised to keep her heart safe. She thinks about Calliope, holding a spear to her chest. 

She knows Calliope must be conflicted. She hopes the Cal that loves her wins. 

Jack has let her be quiet for too long, and she knows it, knew that his silence was a temporary reprieve so he could analyze her more closely. 

He’s wearing thick black gloves when he grabs her chin and forces her to face him. 

His face is murderous, as he growls, “Stay away from my daughter.” 

Juliette won't lie. She's scared. Jack Burns is holding a dagger to her throat, and it won't kill her, no, but it will carve through her if he wants it to. 

Her eyes are swollen and heavy, but she chances a look over at Calliope anyway. 

Cal is still facing away. 

Juliette's tongue is thick in her mouth, but she musters up enough strength to reply. 

"I-I'm sorry, sir," she stammers out. "I didn't mean for any of it, and Theo, I was trying to help —"

"Shut up," Jack stands quickly. "Don't say his damn name." 

Juliette can't control the whimper that escapes her. Jack's chest is heaving; he looks capable of anything. He takes a step closer and Juliette is paralyzed, watching his gloved hand bring the dagger hilt down. 

She doesn’t see it, but she feels a warm, wet burst of pain on her left temple. Her ears are ringing and there are fireworks dancing in front of her eyes, and she can feel Calliope and her brother both recoil and look up at their father. 

Blood trickles down and wets her lip. She still hopes none of it sprayed back on him. Juliette doesn’t think Cal would love it if her father was paralyzed, however inadvertently. Calliope doesn’t need more excuses to resent her. 

She blinks away blood, looks warily up at Jack Burns’ sneer, just in time for him to bring the hilt of the dagger down again, hitting hard at the same spot. It knocks her to the floor, her jaw hitting hard against concrete. Bitter, stale blood floods her mouth. 

Legacy blood tastes bad, she muses. She decides to avoid tasting it further, if she can help it.

She stays down this time, doesn’t lift her head, tries not to call any more attention to herself. 

She’s always been a fast learner. 

She rests her palms flat against the cool concrete to steady herself, is about to take a deep breath to give her the strength to push herself back up, but before she can, Jack is stepping forward. 

The pain now is blinding. She realizes she has never known real hurt before, but this, this is a classroom and she is learning. She thinks about her soft, protected life, a lie that her human visage had bought her, and she thinks about her birthright of blood. She feels it all now, as her thin wrist being ground down upon by Jack’s steel toed boot. 

Juliette can’t contain it; she screams. It rips from her throat and she isn’t sure how long it goes on for, seconds or hours or days, lying on a basement floor, begging for mercy. 

She curses her enhanced senses, knowing that she will never be able to un-hear the sound of her bones crunching, tendons snapping, blood gushing, racing to fill newly empty spaces in her mangled wrist. 

Jack steps off and Juliette doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare make eye contact, gasping for air. She can’t even think of moving right now, her entire body frozen in shock. Her bruised eyes are open as wide as she can make them as she stares at her ballooning wrist. 

She’s leaking blood from everywhere. She can’t tell if the red droplets that are landing on the floor in front of her are from the wound in her temple, the cuts on the inside of her mouth, or her cursed bloody tears. 

Juliette can’t close her mouth properly, not without whimpering, and she watches the ground, in a trance and out of her mind, as red-tinged saliva pools around the growing puddle of blood. 

Just as she takes one shaky breath through her nose, in an attempt to calm herself, Jack is stomping down on her other wrist. 

And this one hurts more . This time, she knows exactly what the aftermath will feel like as soon as he lifts his boot. This time, she is still feeling the aftershocks of pain radiate up her right arm, as Jack decimates her left wrist. 

She’s wailing, begging, crying, and she’s lost track of Calliope, but she hopes to Lilith that her Cal isn’t watching. There’s no world in which Calliope wants this for Juliette. She knows that for a fact. 

Right? 

Cal wouldn’t lead her into a trap, knowing that this was awaiting her. 

But Calliope was boasting earlier about the plans they had drawn up before the raid on her consecration ceremony. Calliope was proud to be a monster hunter. She had made it clear that she thought Juliette was nothing more than a soulless beast. 

But still —  Cal had promised.

Juliette decides she can hold onto that for now. 

It seems that Jack is done grinding her wrist into the ground, so she manages to swallow the last of a scream as he steps away. Her vision is black-tinged around the edges, and she can feel her fangs edging their way past her lips. 

She huffs out small controlled puffs of air, willing herself to be able to move her wrists again. She knows she will heal well eventually; it’s another perk of being a Legacy, impermanent injuries. The issue is that she needs blood to speed the healing process. It won’t work as well unless she can feed, or takes a pill, or something.  

Juliette considers the likelihood of the Burns gym-slash-torture chamber of a basement having a blood fridge, and she almost smiles, despite herself. 

Suddenly, there are thick fingers being tangled in her hair, yanking her up roughly, and she cries out as she is dragged to her feet. The silver cuffs are digging in to her swollen wrists, and she’s sure she can smell the acrid stench of her flesh sizzling against the metal, but Juliette can barely feel the heat of a burn. 

“Stand straight,” Jack commands, and Juliette keeps her eyes down, does her best to get her clumsy feet to follow. The moment has narrowed to the throbbing in her wrists now; she would do anything she was told at this point. 

Jack tugs the silver chain high overhead, fastens it securely around a high-up beam, then tugs hard. 

Juliette feels her knees give out as her shattered wrists are propelled skyward. It doesn’t matter if she can’t find her footing though — Jack has cut the slack on the chain completely. She is being held up only by her arms. 

Sight is lost to her, sound fades to a shrill buzz as she forces herself to adjust to standing. Her head is spinning, but all she can really feel is the blood rushing to and from her trembling, throbbing wrists. 

Mind over matter, Juliette recites to herself, though she doesn’t even know what the fuck that means right now. 

She takes harsh breaths in through her nose, and the ringing in her ears slowly abates. She can hear Jack’s low voice, facing away from her. Her grasp on consciousness is tenuous at best, but she strains to pay attention anyway.

“…don’t know where your mother has gone, but we traded out one vamp for another, as far as I’m concerned. And this one might actually be able to answer our questions, as long as we keep it subdued.” The dark spots floating in front of Juliette’s vision grow more nebulous, dominating her whole field of vision. 

“We’re…just going to keep her here?” Jules hears incredulity in his tone as Calliope’s brother shifts uneasily. Calliope is silent. Juliette can’t hear her heart. She has no idea what Calliope is thinking. She can barely hear herself think. 

“We’re going to see how cooperative it is,” Jack corrects gently. “And depending on what it gives us, we’ll see what happens next.”

“Next?” Calliope’s brother tests. 

Juliette’s neck is too unsteady to keep her head straight, and against her will, it snaps forward, her chin hitting her chest. 

The last thing she hears before she passes out is Jack saying, “We take what it tells us, and we use it. That’s all.”

In her dream, Juliette is in Cal’s arms. They’re back in Apollo’s car, but in the backseat this time. Cal is sprawled out across the seat and Juliette has tucked herself between Cal’s legs, snuggled in close. 

“This isn’t real,” Juliette feels she should acknowledge, but she presses further into Cal’s chest anyway. 

“No,” Cal nods, agreeing. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it anyway.” 

“We never did this, right?” Juliette asks. Her memory is hazy. She turns her head so she can look Cal in the eyes. 

Cal examines her sadly. “There’s too much we never did.”

Juliette lowers her head slightly. 

“There’s too much we’ll never get to do together,” Cal whispers, mournful.

Hearing that sends a spike of dread through Juliette’s chest. She sits up slightly, pushing away. 

“Never?” she asks. 

Calliope’s eyes are so sad when they look at her, but her voice is cold and far too deep when she replies, “No rest for monsters in my house.” 

That’s her last true dream for a while. 

Lightning wracks her body, and Juliette is shocked into consciousness. 

Faintly, she can make out three distinct scents, once she’s relegated her own burning skin to the background. She has gotten too good too quickly at filtering that one out, but it is coming in handy. 

The cattle prod retracts, and Juliette follows its retreat, lets her eyes travel up to Jack Burns’ guarded gaze. 

“I need you two to watch carefully,” Jack calls over his shoulder. 

Juliette’s stomach drops. 

Later, when this is all through, she will never be able to get the timeline right. She will never be able to detail the sequence of events as she experienced them. She will never be able to explain just how much she lost in that room. 

But it comes in flashes, in nightmares. 

Tied tightly to a gurney, with water dripping down onto her face, into her lungs. If it had been regular water, she might have been fine, mostly annoyed at the interruption to her normal breathing habits, but this was more holy water. It burns a trail, singeing the insides of her nostrils, dripping down her throat, and she feels it scorch at the inside of her lungs. 

Jack pulls her aching half-healed wrists above her head again, and informs her, very clinically, that the bones won’t heal right if they’re positioned like this while they’re healing, even for a vampire. 

“You’ll have to get them re-broken,” he says, monotone. “It’ll be good practice for Apollo and Cal, so I’ll let them have a go tomorrow.” 

Juliette watches Apollo blanch, shooting a glance at Calliope, who is staring steadfastly at the ground. Juliette holds her tongue, but she wants to fall to her knees, cling to Cal, be held, be protected. 

The best she can do is stammer out, “Don’t-I can’t-”

Jack barks out a bitter laugh, like he isn’t enjoying this, but he has no other choice. “We need a practical demonstration first, I think.” 

He reaches up, and quickly, casually, snaps back Juliette’s first finger on her left hand. The world is too bright and Juliette’s throat is raw from crying out in pain. 

She makes the mistake of looking at Calliope when Calliope is looking directly at her. There is barely any recognition, barely any feeling at all. 

Calliope looks empty. Jack moves onto her other hand. The sound of breaking bone is too familiar. 

Juliette closes her eyes and screams. That’s becoming familiar too. 

The hallucinations take the place of the dreams. The difference is obvious, in that now, Juliette never really sleeps. She is always in the basement, and the specters of the Burns family accompany her through the endless twilights. The dark crawls against her skin, and there is a humidity that lingers with every exhale. She forces herself to stop breathing, to conserve energy, tries to squeeze her eyes shut and fall into a peaceful slumber, but every time Jack turns off the lights, her exhausted body decides to host a film festival featuring the Burns family’s greatest hits.  

She sees Apollo swinging a sword sometimes, hacking at a battle dummy. She sees visions of Theo studying hard, of Talia and Jack smiling at one another next to open cases of weapons. She sees Calliope, all the time. 

She spends her alone time like this, or locked away in blissful unconsciousness. It isn’t restful, to pass out because of pain, but at least it takes everything away for a little while. 

One night, Juliette comes back to her mind, and behind the blindfold, she can't tell if it's day or night. 

And Cal is there. It’s very obviously a hallucination. It must be. 

Cal squats down in front of her, and Juliette tries to lift her head to look Calliope in the eyes, but her neck aches from where the silver collar had burned welts into fragile skin. 

Calliope is gentle though. She hooks one finger under Juliette's chin and tilts upwards. Juliette lets out an unsteady breath through her nose and closes her eyes.

They're still for a moment as Calliope examines Juliette's face. Juliette opens her eyes and lets herself drink in the sight of Calliope in front of her.

If it's a hallucination, it's a damn good one. Calliope looks uneasy, leaning forward. 

Juliette is startled when Calliope lifts up the corner of Juliette's lip and runs one finger gently over Juliette's exposed fang. 

Her fangs aren't retreating anytime soon, no matter what Juliette does. The lack of blood and the constant threat of danger have left them perpetually bared. 

It's embarrassing, like walking around exposed. 

Juliette tries to shy away, but Calliope grips tighter at her chin and lifts Juliette's lip higher.

"I thought they'd be bigger," Calliope muses quietly. "They're not so scary after all." 

Juliette manages to pull away enough to close her mouth, but the effort is immense and leaves her panting. Calliope looks up at her, an unfamiliar expression on her face, like she’s trying on some role.

"You don't want it?" Calliope asks, reminding Juliette almost of Elinor, a sense of cruel arrogance dripping off her. "You used to like it when I had my hands on you." 

It feels rehearsed. 

"Cal…" Juliette chokes out. "Please."

Calliope's expression changes minutely at the sound of Juliette's voice, but she quickly hardens herself. 

"Don't call me that," she demands. "You have no idea who I am."

Juliette shakes her head weakly. 

"I know you," she strains. "I love you."

Calliope can't steel herself fast enough.

"Stop it," she insists, but Juliette perseveres. 

"Do what you need to do," Juliette manages to get out, her throat rasping in protest. "I deserve it. Whatever will make this right."

Calliope stands and backs away quickly. She turns to leave the room, but chances one more perplexed glance back at Juliette. 

Juliette sends her a blood-smeared smile and lets her head loll forward. 

Between sessions, Juliette is blindfolded and tied tightly down, silver cuffs around her wrists, silver chains on each ankle, and a delicate garotte is fastened around her neck, so close she can feel it when she swallows. 

She was never scared of the dark before this, but she is now. 

It feels childish. Her family is the stuff of nightmares, she has an uncle who is the inspiration behind the bogeyman, but now, closing her eyes is yet another moment that she’s off guard. 

She loses track of the days, only seeing the back of the blindfold or the blinding fluorescent light that Jack aims at her before each session. She hasn’t fed since draining Theo, the same night she was taken, which feels like a lifetime ago. Her body isn’t healing the way it should, but she is still alive, so she supposes it deserves some credit. 

She is no frail human. She can withstand so much thanks to the Legacy she inherited. That doesn’t mean she wants to. 

She might not be able to die, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean she thinks she’ll survive this. 

But, she knows her family would be proud. It never really mattered before, but suddenly it feels like the only real thing in the world, that she refuses to betray their most valuable secret, even if it kills her. 

It won’t kill her body, no, but Juliette can feel the person she always wanted to be slipping out of reach. She finds herself hating, wishing Jack was close enough to pull to her mouth and drain. She finds herself wishing Apollo would slip when mopping the blood in front of her every so often so that she could pounce before he placed the blindfold and garrote back into their designated spots. 

She finds herself wishing for a moment alone with Calliope. A chance to repay Calliope for the betrayal. 

She pushes all the feelings away. It’s the only way to survive. 

There is so much she could say about the Emerald Malkia, but her grandmother had trained them well, the hostage simulations she and her siblings had been forced to participate in from their childhood finally coming into good use. 

Juliette remembers her father looking on in dismay as her mother calmed him, waving away his every fear. 

“It’s better that they know and never have to use it,” Margot shrugged casually, but rested a comforting hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Good practice.”

“Those are my babies,” Juliette remembers her father saying. “Who would want to hurt them?” 

Margot had given him a sharp look. Soon after, he cleared monsters out of Savannah, launched his campaign for DA, kept them safe the best way he knew how. But Juliette had a vampire’s memory. She never forgot. 

The quiet moments, behind the blindfold, were the worst. They were the moments that all of the memories of her life before came rushing to the surface. 

It was a tactic, she knows. Enough time alone in the dark, and it should be enough for the human mind to collapse in on itself, every vulnerable human weakness exposed. 

But Juliette isn’t a human. 

Even if the silences bring forward messy feelings, even if she can’t stifle the shiver that course through her body every time her blindfold is ripped away, even if she can’t calm her heavy breathing or quiet the screams when Jack is ripping her apart, stitch by stitch, she is not human. 

She thinks of cool, unflappable Elinor and her unfettered pride in their heritage. She’s starting to understand it. 

If being a vampire means surviving whatever life can throw at you, she will take it. She’ll embrace it. 

She vows to Lillith she will try harder. 

She doesn’t beg for a second chance. She knows no true vampire would even have the urge. 

Things change when Talia comes home. 

Her blindfold is pulled off, but there are cool, gentle hands on the side of her face. She hasn’t been touched with tenderness in too long, and it makes her shrink back. The hands retreat quickly, and she hears footsteps stop a few paces away. 

Juliette looks up blearily — she can’t tell how much time has passed since the last session, but she can hear Talia whispering furiously.

“...she is a child,” Talia hisses “We should be better than torturing children.”

“That’s real nice coming from the woman who jabbed a screwdriver into that vamp’s brother's throat,” Jack scoffs dismissively. Juliette hears him sharpen something and she winces preemptively.

“Oliver knew what he was getting into. He stood against the boys and made a choice. Juliette never hurt anyone on purpose,” Talia defends hotly. “She saved Cal when Cook was making moves, that girl is the reason our son isn't gone —”

And Juliette hears Jack spin around, hears him pull himself up to his full height, can feel the air in the room go still, before he booms “Theo is dead."

Talia is quiet for a moment. “Jack…”

“My son is dead,” Jack says firmly. “This beast killed him. And we're going to use whatever means necessary until it gives us the information we need. If you have a problem with that, talk to the Guild.”

Juliette hears Talia sigh. “Let me at least get her some blood.”

Jack is startled, but laughs disparagingly. “And where are you going to get that?” 

Juliette doesn’t hear a reply, but she has been in enough school-principal meetings with Talia Burns to imagine the stare Jack is receiving. 

She doesn’t hear from Talia for a while — she wouldn’t be able to say how long, really, but it’s enough time for Jack to explore her exposed skin with a cattle prod, holy water, and the sharp point of a silver dagger, burning coiling designs into her skin. 

The dagger never cuts deep enough to bleed, but the burns penetrate deeper and are harder for her starving body to heal. 

She remembers her mother telling her, during a hostage training session, “The injuries that aren’t obvious on the outside are always the worst. You will get better, but only if you have fed recently.”

Juliette has been trying to take stock of her internal injuries. 

She’s fairly confident her spleen has ruptured, either from being kicked in the stomach, or from the shock from the cattle prod that Jack had applied immediately afterwards. 

Other than that, and the fact her wrists are still swollen, she thinks her internal injuries are fairly minimal. Jack hasn’t been interested in too much permanent damage, mainly pain. 

And he’s succeeding. 

Juliette hurts. Her whole body feels like it’s being ripped apart, like she’s being pried apart, someone taking a seam ripper to every place of connection, and tearing one stitch at a time. She feels like she’s one of Elinor’s old dolls. 

And her body aches, but her heart hurts worse, knowing that every time she sees Cal, she is going to feel a fire of the worst sorts. The passion that consumed her upon Cal’s mere presence has changed into panic. 

And more, that Cal wasn’t going to do shit to protect her anymore. Calliope never even looks at her anymore. She never says sorry. 

There’s only one day that Juliette remembers them actually being alone. Apollo stumbles up the stairs after a particularly brutal session, and with one frustrated backwards glance, Jack follows him. 

Calliope is frozen on the bench across from Juliette, eyes fixed on her own hands. 

"Cal," Juliette knows she's begging. She doesn't have any pride left to tarnish. "Cal."

Calliope can't make eye contact. She stares at the ground. Juliette hopes Calliope is satisfied now, if she knows that this is what it entailed when she said she wouldn't rest until all the Legacies in Savannah were dead. That none of them would reveal the secret, no matter how much they had to endure. 

Somehow, Juliette is sure Calliope didn't understand what she was signing up for. 

Calliope crosses the room quickly, holding her breath. She does the routine check of the chains as she has seen her father do so many times before. She won’t look at Juliette. 

Good, Juliette thinks. She should be ashamed.

Calliope takes a deep breath after checking all of Juliette's bindings. The silver handcuffs that sizzle away and leave the gym smelling vaguely like burning flesh, the thin metal garrote circling Juliette's delicate neck, leaving a thin red smile dripping slightly whenever Juliette swallows out of habit, the chains around her ankles that rattle every time Juliette goes to stretch. 

Calliope looks up to the side, thinks hard, opens her mouth: "I-"

And then seems to think better of it, closing her mouth quickly, standing fast, and turning to go up the stairs. 

Juliette's frustrated, on top of all the hurt, and it's that pure anguish that lets her call after Calliope. 

"You can't run from this," she says around the blood coating her mouth. "I'm still going to be here tomorrow, Cal. You said my heart was safe with you."

She knows Calliope is frozen at the top of the stairs. Juliette closes her eyes and tries to force back tears. She had just been trying to help Theo. She wasn't trying to hurt anyone. 

But, she supposes, sometimes things go further than we want them to. 

Calliope's heart is pounding at the top of the stairs. Juliette can hear it. 

She can hear it when Calliope sits gingerly out of sight, buries her head in her hands, and starts to quietly cry. 

She can tell that this is her Cal, the girl that curled up with her on the floor with the M.A.A.Ms patrolling outside. 

Everything else is Calliope Burns, monster hunter.

There is no sympathy, no recognition, in Calliope's eyes when she's in front of Juliette lately, just cool detachment, and more than any of the silver, that burns at Juliette, makes her flinch hard. 

But the Cal that is hunched over and trying not to let anyone hear the way her breath hitches between sobs? Juliette knows that girl. 

She feels sick for smiling. She doesn't try to hide it though. Just closes her eyes and leans her head back against the pole. 

Talia does bring Juliette blood, pack after pack that Juliette gulps greedily down. Afterwards, Talia sends Jack upstairs, sits Apollo and Calliope down, and insists that they take cloths to gently clean up all of Juliette’s half closed wounds. 

“We’re better than this,” Talia tells her children. “We do not stoop to this level ever, do you hear me?” 

Apollo speaks up. “Dad-”

“Your father is wrong,” Talia is resolute, unwavering. “This is not how we get what we need.” 

She looks at Juliette, and there is kindness in her eyes. 

Juliette doesn’t want to trust it, but she can’t help but feel drawn to Talia’s gentleness. She has been starved of any comfort for too long, and Talia is nothing if not a reassuring presence. 

Juliette doesn’t bother looking for Calliope’s reaction. She can’t help that her traitorous heart still wants to seek Calliope out at every turn, but she also knows that it can’t bear one more disappointment. 

It’s better to keep her face turned away. 

By her best estimation, two weeks pass.

Juliette hasn’t given anything real away, including Theo’s whereabouts, because she can’t lie about something she doesn’t know. 

She does let slip that her brother Oliver’s girlfriend, the witch, offered a spell to turn her human in exchange for her cooperation. She watches Jack and Apollo exchange a look. She knows they’re thinking of Theo. 

She doesn't say that she doesn't trust Carmen as far as she could throw her. They will discover the limits soon enough. 

It must be two weeks of torture, she decides, because any less time locked up, and the full reversal of her morality would be untenable. 

But she’s realized Calliope’s perspective was right all along. Their world was black and white, humans and monsters. 

The shades of gray that she had tried to hide in, the petty farce of humanity she had clung to her entire life, school, friendships, Ben, love… all of it was a lie. 

Calliope knew better from the start. Calliope saw her true nature the first time they met and made things simple. Calliope had been so steadfast, and moreover, she had been right.

They were never going to be anything more than what they had. 

She can love Cal from afar. She probably will forever. But she recognizes that Calliope is a different person entirely. It’s freeing. 

It’s fucking tragic. 

Juliette sags against the pole digging into her back, tries to call up another fond memory to avoid the dark pressing against her on all sides. No matter how enlightened she wants to pretend to be, she can’t escape from the cold quiet of the dark basement. She hears noises. She’s on edge the whole time. 

At least when the lights are on, she knows where the hurt is going to come from. 

The dark is dangerous. 

She hasn’t slept much for the past two weeks, just slipped into a blissful unconsciousness when Jack misjudges a hit or carries on too much. 

Neither Apollo nor Calliope have lifted a finger, begging off each time Jack suggests they learn how to conduct an interrogation. 

Every time, Juliette sends a silent thank you to Talia, who only ever shows up to bring blood and clean Juliette up a little. 

She knows it’s probably some form of Stockholm Syndrome, but she’s convinced that Talia Burns is entirely too good a person. 

Juliette manages to distract herself enough with thoughts of how motherly Talia is that she almost misses the creak of the door above. 

As soon as she hears it, her ears prick up. Two heartbeats move quietly down the stairs. The blinding lights that Jack flips on as soon as he opens the door are still off. The timing is off — Jack was here too recently to do anything but pummel her further, and the heartbeats don’t sound like his. 

They sound like — 

She must be hallucinating again. 

Except, her wrists are being lowered, slowly, slowly down. The blindfold is still on, but she can smell coconut and lavender in front of her as the silver cuffs are unlocked. 

The sudden lightness around her wrists has her stumbling, and strong familiar arms catch and steady her. 

Could it be…? 

It must be another fucking hallucination. 

“We have to move her now,” Talia’s voice is unmistakable, and Juliette is so confused, but her legs are weak from disuse and also: torture. 

Her blindfold is still on, but her arms don’t work, tied above her head for too long. She tries to follow Talia’s voice, but her step falters, and almost sinks to the ground. She is exhausted, her whole body, and now that she isn’t tied up, all of the adrenaline that was allowing her to stay upright has vanished. 

Talia is hushed when she asks, “Can you-” and before Juliette can think to interpret what that could mean, she is being lifted, bridal style, into muscular, capable arms. 

She isn’t letting herself believe it. She can’t. Hope has been beaten out of her. It has been weeks. 

It has to be Cal. 

No one else would be so gentle, cradling the back of Juliette’s neck like it’s precious. 

Juliette didn’t have Cal for very long, but she has replayed the feeling of Cal’s arms around her a thousand times. It has to be Cal. 

They move quickly, and Juliette tries feebly to lift the blindfold, but her wrists don’t work and there is a solid chest behind her and strong arms holding her close and it’s all she can do to stay awake right now, so she just closes her eyes as she is folded into the backseat of a car, still tight against a warm body. 

Whoever is holding her is whispering comforting phrases, quiet encouragement, into her ear, but Juliette can’t make out any words. She doesn’t know where they’re going. She just wants to go home. 

She thinks she says something, mumbles out a quiet plea, but she doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember the rest of the journey.

All she knows is waking up on her doorstep, looking up at her mother and father’s faces, pale and worried. 

All she knows is she was wrapped in a blanket, one that smells like coconut and lavender, and delivered home.

Chapter Text

It’s not her idea. But she doesn’t stop it from happening. 

Her father stares at the empty space where Theo used to be, then turns to face her and Apollo, and Calliope has never seen him so stern. 

He was never the jolliest man, but he always had a smile and a twinkle in his eye aimed at her. Now he’s a man with nothing to lose. 

Jack Burns loves his daughter with his whole heart, he’s unmistakably proud of Apollo’s strength and courage, but he and Theo had a different sort of bond. They understood each other, they had made promises to one another, and Cal knew that at the end of the day, her father would choose to have Theo fighting by his side before anyone else. 

Now, Theo is gone. Her mother has vanished. 

When Jack needs something to hold onto, he has always turned to the Guild. He is a hunter before anything else.

Calliope knows the story too well: the Guild came to Jack after Theo’s mom was killed, offered him a life jacket as he was drowning in grief, and gave him a way to make things right. He met Talia, born and bred into monster hunting, and together they set up a family. 

Jack owes the Guild everything. He believes in the mission wholeheartedly. 

“Calliope,” he says, and levels his gaze at her. “Do you think you could get the littlest Legacy out of the house tonight?” 

Cal’s confused. They still don’t know how to kill Legacies, so what good would it do to get Juliette out of the house? 

“I could get Jules out of her room,” she responds slowly. “But why?” 

Jack’s face is grim, and he strides over to his desk to start drafting plans. “We have too many unanswered questions, and the small one is our best bet.” 

“But she’s not going to want to talk to us, not after everything that went down tonight,” Apollo interjects, looking over at Cal. His face is ashen, and there’s wide concern in his eyes when he makes eye contact with Cal. He’s trying to tell her something with his eyes, giving her some signs, but her head isn't straight, so she looks away. She thinks she gets the gist of it, anyway. 

She has never actually told him about how she feels about Juliette, but she can tell that he’s picked up on something. 

She loves her big brother. She loves both of them. 

Thinking about Theo makes her heart spasm wretchedly in her chest, and when she looks up at her father at his table, she thinks about the pain in his voice when he had announced his intention to cleanse Theo of his monstrosity. 

“No,” Jack allows. He looks older than Cal remembers him being, and more tired, hands braced against the table. “We’ll have to convince it to talk.” 

Cal doesn’t let the meaning of that sentence sink in, doesn’t want to let herself believe that her father is saying what she thinks he’s saying. She stays quiet. 

But Apollo has found his voice. “Should we get Guild backup if we’re going to the Fairmounts?” 

Jack just shakes his head, waves his hand dismissively at Apollo. 

But Apollo persists. “Dad, we just lost Mike and Tess, and now Theo. How do you think the Guild is going to let us out on another mission without bringing someone else along?”

Mike and Tess? 

Cal hadn’t truthfully thought about where they were, or where Tess was, but to hear that while she had been running around Savannah with Juliette, two of the closest people to her family had been lost in the hunt struck her. 

She was responsible for their lives. If she had just been a little bit smarter, half a step faster, she could have avoided all of this. 

If Juliette had never locked eyes with her and made her feel, Cal might never have been here at all. 

It was easy to blame someone who wasn’t there to defend herself. 

Cal tunes back into the back-and-forth her father and Apollo had, shaking her head slightly to clear out the vision of Juliette’s bright blue eyes gazing hopefully up at her. 

“They won’t have to know,” Jack says, his tone a warning. 

“You won’t report this?” Apollo asks, aghast. “We’re planning on ambushing a kid outside her house full of vampires, and you want it to just be the three of us?” 

Jack stands up fast, towering a head over Apollo. 

“Listen, boy,” he growls out. “We need answers, and the Legacy that messed with my baby girl is the one I want to talk to. It’s our job, as hunters, to do what we have to when there’s a threat. As long as your sister can get the vamp out of the house, you and I can handle the rest.” 

Jack looks over at Calliope expectantly, and she nods quickly, avoiding eye contact. She feels Apollo look over at her for a long moment, before she hears him let out a breath, and nod too. 

The plans are made too fast, like her father had prepared this ahead of time, and before she knows it, Calliope is being hurried into the backseat of her father’s SUV. 

They scale the back garden wall quickly and quietly, and Cal watches as her father and Apollo tuck themselves into the shrubbery, fully concealing themselves from sight. 

She’s feeling a little sick to her stomach. The idea of luring Jules out like this doesn’t feel like a fair fight. 

Juliette is gentle. For as long as Cal knew her, she never moved in offense, only sought to defend herself and the people she cared about. An ambush feels like cheating.

But the monsters don’t fight fair, she supposes. They prey on the strong and the weak alike. 

Cal doesn’t love the fact that she’s comparing Jack’s plan to the behavior of the monsters they hunt, but it’s been a really hard night. Allowances must be made. 

She stares up at Juliette’s window, looking up at the trellis she once climbed in a dream, in what feels like another life. She kneels and picks up some pebbles like she did then, tests their heft, and picks one, smooth and rounded, and launches it at the window. 

It only takes one before there is movement behind the curtain, and Calliope’s heart stirs before she can stop it. Juliette was hoping for her; Juliette has been waiting by her window for Calliope to come and listen. 

Juliette still doesn’t understand just how dire the situation has become. 

Calliope is fully nauseous now, and she hugs her stomach as Juliette leans out of her window with a smile. She has a difficult time concentrating on the conversation, distracted by Apollo moving in the bushes to her side, but somehow she manages to convince Juliette to leave the safety of her four walls. 

Juliette tells Cal to wait a second as she comes down, and Cal takes the opportunity to hiss a warning over to her brother as Jack swats lightly at the back of Apollo’s head in reprimand. Apollo mouths an apology, and for a moment it feels like everything in their family is normal. This could be any hunt Calliope has been allowed to sit in on. 

Cal looks over for her mother and Theo, where they would stand together on the side and roll their eyes. And when she doesn’t see them, she remembers. 

This is no ordinary mission. There is so much more at stake. 

There is a squeak from a door, and Cal hears quiet padding from slippered feet. She shoots a last warning look to Apollo in the shrubbery and draws herself up to her full height in preparation to face a Juliette she had sent away hours earlier. 

A Juliette she had been kissing just before that. 

Juliette who rounds the corner, and looks so genuinely pleased to see Calliope standing there that Cal’s heart breaks all over again. 

But the moonlight is playing along the strands of Juliette’s loose flowing hair, and her blue eyes have a sparkle in them, and her smile is real and aimed solely at Calliope, and Cal feels guilt setting in now, but there is also raw and racing anger, and Calliope has been taught which one she is allowed to let win. 

She has been taught, over and over again, who she cannot let win. Monsters who look like humans are the worst ones, after all. 

So when Juliette calls out her name, she turns towards her and pretends like her heart isn’t breaking. 

Juliette tries to get her to talk and Calliope can’t speak, can’t say anything other than “Hey Jules,” because if she opens her mouth for any longer, she thinks she might do something foolish, like telling Jules to run. 

Instead she stays quiet. She feels her pulse thud harshly in her ears. She wonders if Juliette is trying to puzzle out where Calliope could be lying.

Cal refuses to lie. 

“You wanted to talk?” Juliette asks, and it’s hopeful. Cal cuts her eyes to meet her father’s and he is already moving. Her part in this whole scheme will be coming to an end soon. She needs it to be over.

Cal watches her father and brother creep forward silently, and Juliette mistakes it for regret. Jules reaches forward, and Calliope can’t help but flinch back, both because she doesn’t deserve the comfort of Juliette’s touch, and because she’s still so unfathomably angry, and how can Juliette think she can fix this with one gentle caress? 

But she doesn’t have time to consider it for long, because her father has already taken his club and swung it hard at the back of Juliette’s head. 

Juliette falls slowly, like a marionette cut from its strings that tries to stand of its own volition. She crumples gently, like a feather floating down to the ground. 

She is so small, with her bathrobe pooling around her. 

Calliope can’t breathe for a beat, just staring down at Juliette spread out on the ground. 

Juliette’s eyelashes flutter, Apollo nudges Calliope hard to snap her out of the trance that she’s fallen into, and she comes back into the moment. She takes the length of chain her father hands her, and unseeingly, kneels beside Juliette, wrapping Juliette’s thin wrists delicately with the burning chain. 

There is a faint ringing in her ears as she follows Apollo to the car. Her father brings up the rear, Juliette slung unceremoniously over his shoulders, and he deposits her restrained body in the back. 

Calliope feels wrong, separated from Juliette by nothing more than the backrest of her seat. 

They belong together, hand in hand. The last time they were in the backseat of a car together, Sebastian Fairmount was driving them Guild-knows-where, and Calliope remembers how safe she felt with Juliette at the end of it all, even with all of the crazy witches and vampire dads. 

She wishes she could promise Jules it will be okay now, but it’s not worth breaking the silence. Juliette won’t hear her. 

She looks over her shoulder the entire drive home, half hoping that Juliette will sit up a little bit, put up a bit of a fight, do anything to make it feel less like they just kidnapped an innocent girl.

Cal has to remind herself, over and over, that Juliette is a monster. Monsters must be stopped. She repeats it to herself constantly. 

The words start to blur together; they stop sounding like they make any sense at all. 

Apollo is kind in ways Calliope didn’t know he could be. 

He pulls her aside as soon as she gets out of the car and sends her straight upstairs. 

“Don’t,” he warns. “I’ll take care of things with Dad. You stay out of it unless you have to be here.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Cal protests. “I did this too, I have to follow through.”

Apollo shakes his head, and, suddenly, pulls Calliope into a tight hug. It startles her, pulling confusing tears into her eyes. “This wasn’t a hunt, Cal, this wasn’t even Guild approved. Theo isn’t here to be the one to make sure we do what we’re supposed to, and the rules don’t apply anymore, okay? Get yourself into something more comfortable, I know Dad’s going to want us both to be there when he gets started.” 

Calliope steps back hesitantly, only moving when Apollo gives her an encouraging nod towards the stairs. She turns and flees. She ignores the sound of Apollo exhaling heavily as he lifts Juliette’s prone form. 

The door to her room slams hard, and Calliope’s hands are in her hair pushing hard on her temples to try and ease the pain of the migraine beating against the inside of her skull. 

“Fuuuuck,” she swears loudly, pacing. She rubs at her eyes, then sits down hard at the corner of her bed. 

She unlocks her phone and scrolls through her most recent messages, watching Tess’s name pop up, followed by Theo and the rest of her family. 

She doesn’t even have Juliette’s fucking number. She doesn’t know how to get in touch with Ben, and there’s no way she’s messaging any of the Fairmounts. 

And in all honesty, what could she even say? Most of Savannah thought that she was the vampire anyway, not Juliette, so admitting to kidnapping a girl, who was the daughter of the DA, at that, was only going to bring unwanted attention onto her family. 

And what if the Guild caught wind of an unsanctioned mission? Her father’s dreams of advancing in the ranks would be destroyed. 

Her mother still hasn’t come home. Talia would know exactly what to do. She would be able to make things better. She always knows exactly what Jack needs to temper his bullish dedication to the cause. 

Her father isn’t a bad person, but he is easily led. He isn’t evil, he just thinks that the teachings of the Guild are law. 

He’s a man of action. 

Cal thinks of the night that she, Theo, and Apollo found the ghouls in the cemetery, how Theo embraced her questions, how Apollo brushed it off with “we’re monster hunters, it’s what we do.”

That ideology is Jack Burns entirely. 

The man-of-action, do-as-you’re-told, no-holds-barred approach meant the only view of the world that the Burns children were taught growing up was extremely black and white. There was no need for reading between the lines for soldiers. All they needed was to be able to follow orders. 

It seems, now though, that some orders carried more weight than others. Jack’s understanding of his place and the threat of losing his family meant that he was doubling down on his death-to-all-monsters stance. 

It was unlike him to move without Guild permission. He had drilled into all of them that seeking personal glory was a mark of arrogance, something that would kill any hunter, and yet, Cal feels like chaining a vampire up, even one as unthreatening as Juliette, is pretty damn arrogant. 

But, at the same time, Cal knows how much it must scare Jack to think about losing his family again. His first wife had been killed by a vampire, his oldest son turned into a vampire, his only daughter bitten and possibly even in thrall to a vampire, and Talia, lost because of a disagreement about vampires. 

If that didn’t push a man, who had dedicated his life to making the world safer by ridding it of monsters, over the edge…

The constant back and forth between what she feels and what she knows makes Calliope’s head feel like it’s splitting apart. Her reality is tugging at both sides of her, and she doesn’t know if she can trust her head or her heart. 

Calliope shudders slightly, and at the same time, there is a loud groan of metal from the basement. She starts up, halfway off the bed, frozen and looking at the door. 

There are heavy footsteps, and she recognizes the tread, but it doesn’t make her relax. 

There’s a knock at her door, and a deep voice rumbles out, “C’mon baby girl. We’re all set up in the basement, and we’re going to wake it up now. You don’t want to miss this.” 

There’s no room to back out. Calliope feels anxiety well up in her stomach as she glances longingly towards her window, the possibility of an escape, before moving towards the door. 

The cool metal handle is a shock to her system, but she leans into it, resting her hand there before taking a deep breath. She wants a reset button. 

She comes from a lineage a thousand years old. The world’s most powerful monster hunters. 

They couldn’t all have been wrong. 

She follows the sound of her father’s retreating footsteps to the basement. 

Calliope will never admit this out loud, but every moment of Juliette’s confinement is burned into her mind. She remembers every last thing that happens. 

When this is all through, when she gets to the other side, she will never be able to forget the exact the timeline of the torture. She will never be able to forget the details of every sequence of events as she watches them. She will never be able to explain just how much innocence she lost in that room. She will try to hide it from Jules. But it comes in flashes, in nightmares. 

For months, she will hear Jules scream every time she closes her eyes.

For months, she decides not to sleep. 

Her father makes them watch, every time he ventures into the basement. And after every session, she cries on the stairs, or in her bed, or out by the lake. She doesn’t let anyone see. 

Her dad promises that one day, it will get easier. 

“This is the job,” he says mournfully, washing his hands carefully to ensure he doesn’t get any of Juliette’s blood from his stained gloves onto exposed skin. 

Calliope is less sure than she’s ever been. She doesn’t understand how it can ever get better. It just feels wrong. She wanted revenge, but this doesn’t feel like any retribution she’s ever heard of. It feels needless. 

“How do you make it okay?” She stands close to her father, hands fiddling with the wraps around Theo’s favorite crossbow. It looks out of place on the table beside the rest of their communal weapons; Theo had laid claim on it at age twelve and kept it close to his bed ever since. 

“Make what okay?” Jack turns towards her slightly, then does a double take when he notices how Cal’s fingers are trembling. He pulls her into his side, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders. 

He smells comforting, like woodsmoke, shea butter, and something that is so unmistakably her dad that she can’t help but melt into his embrace. She takes a deep breath, her face tucked against his broad chest, and she tries to control her trembling, matching her breaths to the steady rise and fall of her father’s easy inhales and exhales. 

Jack is quiet, just holding her, and Cal can tell that he’s thinking of how much things have changed. They used to cuddle up on the couch every time he returned home after a hunt, after he said hello to the boys and gave Talia a kiss. 

Cal would pull out her monster almanac and Jack would point out exactly which beast he had faced that trip. He would quiz Cal on the best ways to take each monster down, and laugh excitedly with her when she would get it right. 

Some of Cal’s most precious memories are of her whole family at home together, her mom refereeing Theo and Apollo roughhousing, while she pulled closer to her father, tucked herself into his side, and let herself imagine that between the five of them, they would be able to take on the worst that the world had to offer. 

The realization that it will never be like that again, not all five of them, hits her like a train.  

Cal finally manages to calm herself enough to speak, but she doesn’t know how to say what she feels she needs to. 

"You're hurting her," she mumbles hoarsely and even to her own ears it sounds pathetic. 

Jack is still, and his heartbeat is solid and constant against Calliope’s ear. She thinks of Juliette, listening closely, picking up on the subtle nuances of how Cal’s heart speaks. She wonders what her father’s heart is saying. She isn’t sure she recognizes the cadence anymore.

“Baby girl, what we have in the basement is a vampire. It’s not a person. It can’t be hurt like us,” Jack is firm, but kind, and Calliope feels her head begin to pound. 

She knows this. All of the Guild training, her whole life, has taught her that this is true. But she can’t reconcile that with the memory of Jules wincing at the brush of silver. She knows Jules was feeling something when they were underneath the tree, the night they buried Cook. 

There was real emotion there. Jules had real hurt in her voice. 

“You having a hard time with that?” Jack asks. Cal wishes he wasn’t being so gentle; it makes it more confusing. He should be more upset, but his eyes are soft as he fixes her with a look. 

This is just like before the Legacy raid —  Apollo and Theo were adamant that Calliope would never have doubts about their mission, but Jack had just pinned her with his heavy gaze, like he knew better. 

Cal just nods slightly in response. Jack isn’t looking at her, but she knows he felt her head move when he lets out a deep sighing breath. 

“Can I let you in on a Guild secret?” he asks. She hears something akin to pride in his voice, and it’s confusing, but she nods to encourage him on. “You’re one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen.”

Her ears perk up at that, and she lifts away slightly. 

“Really?” Cal asks, incredulous. She couldn’t even get her first kill at fifteen. Theo was twelve. Surely that’s better. 

But Jack lets out a fond laugh, and replies, “Really. Your brothers are good, don’t get me wrong, but you’re the perfect mix of grace and strength. Uncle Mike said there were folks up at the Guild Academy who wanted to fast track you if your mom and I agreed to it.” 

Calliope sits up straight and turns to face him excitedly, disbelievingly. “No way! Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Jack is serious again. “You’re technically very impressive, baby girl, but your heart wasn’t in it. We thought we’d tell you after your first kill, see you set up as one of the youngest ever to graduate from the Academy.” 

He paused, before continuing. “But your heart still isn’t in it, Cal. I don’t know what it is, but Savannah has messed with your head, and I know that it’s because of that damn vamp we’ve got locked up downstairs. So if I have to do some things I’m conflicted about in order to protect my family and secure your future? I will. I’ll do whatever I have to.” 

Cal looks down slightly, nodding. 

Jack pulls her close again, into a tight squeeze, before letting go and getting back to organizing the weapons in front of him. Cal takes it as a dismissal and turns to walk away. 

But as she turns to leave, he speaks again. 

“If you don't get your mind right, baby girl, you'll never really be a hunter," Jack tells her and it rips right through her. 

Cal tries to pay more attention, during their basement sessions. She can’t call it what it is, though, never says the word “torture” out loud, but as she’s watching Jules shriek in pain on the other end of a cattle prod, she clenches her jaw hard, and forces herself to keep her gaze steady. 

If she doesn’t get her mind right…

What does that entail? 

Because the link definitely still exists between them. She smells burning flesh and she can feel Juliette’s pained sobs ricochet through her, tearing her apart. Every time the knife dips close to Juliette’s skin, Cal is wincing preemptively. 

She can feel Juliette suffering and Cal doesn’t understand why each blow she watches Juliette absorbs devastates her so much, but it does. 

But Theo is still gone. That is what it all comes down to. Calliope could be head over heels in love, or she could be poisoned by the Legacy bite, or cursed by some witch, or just fated to suffer, but at the end of the day, she wants to choose her family. She wants to put her family first. That wanting is what drives her. 

Juliette must have known something was going to happen when she bit into Theo’s wrist. How could Calliope care about something so trivial as love at the end of it all, when Juliette had broken something sacred by hurting her family? 

But still. 

Every hit from the spiked silver baton Jack carries flashes before Calliope’s eyes. Every tear Juliette sheds drives Calliope further into the dark, away from the safety and comfort of her family, the Guild, and the life she thought she had built up around herself. 

Sometimes Jack stuffs a gag in Juliette’s mouth, waits for her to choke and cough and gasp for air around it, and Calliope thinks of duct tape over her own mouth, and the careful way Juliette had peeled it back, like she wanted to minimize any pain Calliope would ever feel. 

Juliette walked away from her own family in the middle of an armed attack in order to protect Calliope. 

Calliope led Juliette into a trap. 

The line between monsters and morals is ill-defined; Calliope’s crisis of conscience manifests constantly when she is home alone. Apollo keeps up pretenses of going out and training the M.A.A.M.s, and Jack has regular meetings with the Guild. Calliope doesn’t know how her perfect soldier of a father stands in front of his commanding officers every day and pretends like he doesn’t have a sixteen year old locked in his basement, but somehow he must manage. 

But the days are the only times she can sneak down to the basement. Juliette is never awake , even if her eyes are open, reserving her energy for the periods of night when Jack turns the spotlights to face her. 

Sometimes Calliope wishes Juliette would just…not get up. Just take the hit and stay down, force Jack to try again later. 

But Juliette is too tenacious for that, her stubborn pride manifesting every time she steadies herself with a shaky breath, and lifts her chin, even if her eyes stay fixed on the concrete floor. 

The first time Calliope sneaks down to see Juliette it is pure curiosity. It is the night after the ambush, and she needs to see exactly how much had changed overnight; Calliope feels like her entire world had shifted. 

She wants to see if Juliette is still as entrancing as she had ever been. She wants to see if, without her obvious beauty, Juliette will still call to her. 

The link is a powerful thing. 

Soon after, Calliope is sneaking down daily, just to make sure Juliette is still breathing. Soon, she is loosening the garotte, making sure Juliette can swallow without cutting her neck open. She is bringing down damp paper towels to wipe away stale blood from the corners of Juliette’s bruised and blackened eyes, and dampen Juliette’s split lips. She hesitates, then reaches out to gently support Juliette’s stiff and aching neck, just holding her up for twenty minutes, half an hour, doing what she can to help, while not betraying her father. 

And every time Juliette starts to stir, Calliope balks, recoils suddenly and scurries back up the stairs, before locking herself in the bathroom. She tries to be cruel, practicing lines in front of the mirror, but there are some nights that they end up alone after a session, and Juliette will break her, calling out to Calliope softly, reverently, still, after everything. 

Cal has to run. 

Calliope feels like she’s been running from Juliette for so long. She’s been running towards her family and they keep moving further out of reach. 

Cal can’t help it. She can’t abide Juliette locked in that basement. She falls, again. 

She isn’t sure there was ever a time that she had stopped. Loving Juliette is as much a fact of her life as monster hunting. 

Calliope tries to blame the bite, some nights, when it’s too hard to reconcile everything together, that because of the link, she and Juliette have been bound in some celestial dance. 

It’s easy to have a scapegoat. Everything in her wants the love to be because of the bite. Everything in her wants it to be real. 

The torture feels like it’s lasted forever, but it’s been a little less than two weeks. 

Cal can’t spend too much time downstairs with her father and Apollo anymore. She feels herself slipping, her sympathy being made obvious. Apollo notices, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder or a sidelong glance, but Calliope lives in fear that her father will realize too. 

She hears him say the words “your heart isn’t in it” again and again. She watches him raise his baton and bring it down on Juliette again and again. She hears the sharp snap of bone, again and again. 

It’s a matter of time before she reveals too much. 

"Is that the best way to do that?" Cal asks, watching as Jack strings Juliette up by the wrists. Juliette is seemingly unconscious but there are strangled noises that still escape her when Jack pulls to secure the chains. 

"Why do you ask?" Jack gives her an appraising look, and Cal stutters over herself trying to justify herself without giving any of the bubbling discomfort she's feeling away. 

"I just mean- well, we don't want to overextend- I-" 

Jack cuts her off. "It's okay, baby girl, it's important to ask questions. It's how we learn."

He gives no further explanation, though, face turned intensely towards the fastenings. 

"I just think we should make sure we don't burn her out too fast," Cal doesn't look up at him, doesn't look over at Juliette. "If we don't watch out, won't we do too much damage before we can get the information we need from her?"

Jack studies her for a moment, before examining Juliette's limp and dangling body. 

He muses thoughtfully, "I guess we don't know the limits of Legacy endurance, you're right. We can give it a little longer tonight, and see how much it heals without blood before tomorrow morning."

He turns to Calliope with a smile, like she should be proud of herself, but instead all she feels is a sick sense of dread. She returns his smile and her father comes over to embrace her, and she eagerly takes the opportunity to hide her face in his shoulder. 

"A hunter is only as good as her gut," Jack reminds her. "Trust yours."

Calliope nods, but she hates him a little bit for saying it now. 

It feels wrong — she knows she isn't supposed to see this much blood from someone she loves. She was supposed to keep Jules from hurting at all costs. 

But her father was hurting too. Theo was hurt. 

Calliope waits till her father is done cleaning his knives to lock herself in the bathroom and retch violently over the toilet, spitting out green bile and nothing more. 

She wants her mom. 

It’s day twelve of holding Juliette captive when Talia comes home. 

She shows up at the front door with her hunting bag slung over her shoulder and parallel cuts above her right eye. Everyone knows better than to ask how she got them. 

Jack tries in vain to stall her as Talia moves to go to deposit her bag in the basement, where they keep the bulk of their weapons, so she brushes past him, angrily, before stopping dead in her tracks. 

A bleary eyed Juliette is crouched on the floor and cowers away from this new, unfamiliar smell. 

Cal follows her parents downstairs, moving to sit silently on the staircase. She watches as her mother moves carefully towards a terrified Juliette and gently pulls her blindfold off, cupping Juliette’s face carefully to examine the damage. 

Juliette pulls away shyly, trying to hide her exposed fangs, and Talia watches her with a sorrowful look on her face, something fiercely maternal shining out of her that Cal recognizes. 

When Talia spins around to face Jack, her eyes are blazing. “I don’t know what in the damn hell you were thinking when you did this and involved the kids but you should know better. She is a child.”

Jack blinks back at her, shocked, as Talia forges onward. “We should be better than torturing children.”

It doesn’t take long for Jack to get over his shock. Cal shrinks into herself. 

“That’s real nice coming from the woman who jabbed a screwdriver into that vamp’s brother's throat,” Jack scoffs dismissively. 

Apollo drops down soundlessly beside Calliope on the stairs and offers her his arm. She takes it, almost numb. There is no comfort to be found here. 

Talia is furious down below. 

“Oliver knew what he was getting into. He stood against the boys and made a choice. Juliette never hurt anyone on purpose,” Talia defends hotly. “She saved Cal when Cook was making his moves, that girl is the reason our son isn't gone —”

Apollo winces at the reference to Theo and Cal freezes, waiting for her father’s reaction. They look at each other, and don’t have to wait long before Jack is yelling, using a tone Cal has never heard him use on Talia, “Theo is dead.”

After a silence, Talia says, “Jack…”

“My son is dead,” Jack says firmly. “This beast killed him. And we're going to use whatever means necessary until it gives us the information we need.”

Cal doesn’t want to hear anymore. She pulls away from Apollo, turns to stand, and climbs the stairs. 

She closes the door to her bedroom quietly, too tired to slam it, or make any untoward noise. Calliope collapses onto her bed, shuffling herself underneath the covers, burying herself deep. 

She doesn’t want this anymore, she decides. She closes her eyes firmly and tries to wish away her reality for a moment of blissful rest. 

Cal almost manages to close her eyes and not see Juliette’s flesh turning black and charred in front of her, but there’s a soft knock on her door that interrupts, and she sits up quickly. 

“Come in,” she calls. She sounds tired, even to her own ears.  

A head pokes around the corner, half masked in shadow. “Baby? You okay?” 

“Mom,” Cal whispers, tension leaving her shoulders. “You’re really back.” 

Talia makes her way over to the side of Calliope’s bed and sits beside her daughter, stroking down Cal’s bedhead affectionately. 

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, baby. There was a lot I needed to settle, but I’m home now.”

Cal just nods and draws the blanket close to her chin. With her mother in the room, she feels like she might cry at any moment, but she doesn’t want to have to explain herself. 

Talia can tell though, because she probes gently, asking, “Have you been down in the basement much since I’ve been gone?” 

And Calliope’s voice breaks when she replies, “Every day.”

Talia’s face falls. She toes her boots off, and crawls into bed beside Calliope, pulling her daughter in close. Cal curls up to her mother, leaning her head on her mother’s chest. 

“Oh, baby, I am so sorry you’ve had to see all of that,” Talia tells her, her tone doleful. “Your father is a good man, but he’s always put his duty as a hunter before everything else.” 

“It’s been awful, Mom,” Cal whispers out brokenly. 

“I can only imagine,” Talia’s tone is hushed. 

“I don’t think I can see her hurt anymore,” Cal confesses, feeling like she’s giving up a big secret. 

She feels Talia move slightly. “You should have never had to see that in the first place.” 

They both go quiet, before Cal thinks about her conversation with her father, in a position much like this. 

“Dad told me they wanted me for the Academy,” she starts. “But he said you both thought I didn’t have the heart to be a real hunter.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Talia stresses. “It was never about your heart. You were too young to go alone, and I wanted you to get a little bit more normalcy before you were thrown fully into the Guild. I wanted you to have the chance to be a real person.” 

Cal laughs a little, her throat thick with tears. “I’ve never really been normal, Mom.”

Talia laughs too, though it’s sad. “I know, baby, but I wanted so much for you to have everything. Team sports, group projects, crushes, first love —”

And Cal can’t stop the rough sob that escaped her, bubbling out. Talia holds her tightly, saying “It’s okay, baby, I know, I know.” 

Cal sobs openly, “I still love her, Mom, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for who you love,” Talia says fiercely. “You can’t control who you fall for.” 

“She hurt Theo,” Cal blubbers, trying to explain how conflicted she had been, but not being able to find the words. 

“She changed Theo,” Talia corrects. “But, baby, I promise you, Theo is fine.” 

Cal cries her heart out into Talia’s shirt, exhausting herself completely, but she still wants to drive her point home. 

“I can’t watch her in pain anymore, Mom. I don’t know if I’m too soft, if that’s what dad meant when he said I didn’t have the heart, but I want her away from here and away from us.”

She knows Talia has been against the torture from the minute she learned about it. 

But all Talia does is raise one eyebrow slightly before saying, “You know your heart, baby,” Talia says, brushing her palm against Cal’s cheek. “I raised you to make your own decisions, to know your own mind and never let anyone — except me — sway your decisions. If you make a decision, I’ll do what I can to support you.” 

The escape comes together just as quickly as the ambush did. Once Cal decides she’s done, Talia sets up a Guild meeting out of town for Jack, and sends Apollo with him. 

Before he leaves, Apollo fist bumps Cal, and says quietly, “I convinced Dad to take my car, so you and Mom have the SUV for…whatever you need.” 

Cal can’t speak, just shakes her head and pulls her brother in for a hug. He has become an ally in so many more ways than she could have ever hoped, but with Theo gone, Apollo really stepped into the role of older brother. 

As soon as Jack and Apollo drive into the night, Talia and Calliope launch into action. Talia had gotten Juliette some blood to begin the healing process and make her more comfortable for the move, but when Calliope makes it down to the basement, Juliette looks in as bad of shape as ever. 

Cal thinks back to the night, the one where Theo was turned and Juliette was captured. 

Juliette was so brave, shouting across the lawn that she loved Calliope, and that she knew Calliope loved her too. 

At the time, Calliope couldn’t have said it, but she was amazed at how well Juliette could read her. 

“There is no way you can turn your feelings for me off like that,” Juliette had pleaded, impassioned. 

Cal didn’t want to. She wasn’t supposed to care, so she shoved Juliette back and said, “I’m not telling you again,” but now, here, with Juliette being carried bridal style to the car Talia is starting, Calliope rethinks everything. 

She dreams of a world where she and Juliette could just have been high school sweethearts, kissing in locker rooms and holding hands in the hallways, instead of fighting off zombies and attacking each other’s families. 

She holds Juliette close to her the entire car ride, hoping she can leave Juliette with one good memory. 

There is no way Juliette will ever be able to look at her again, let alone want her. This night, one way or another, is a goodbye. 

Calliope wants to make the most of it. 

She had pulled a blanket off her bed to gently cocoon Juliette’s battered body, keeping the cuts and burns from the open air. She doesn’t know if vampires can get infections, but she didn’t want to risk it. 

At the end of it all, there was more danger in Savannah than Juliette Fairmont. Calliope knows her father will be furious as soon as he gets home, but after two weeks with no new intel, she will just have to convince him to go for a new plan. 

Juliette deserves rest. She deserves peace, far from the Burns family. 

She deserves better than Calliope. 

Cal can feel Talia watch her from the driver’s seat, glancing down at a practically-comatose Juliette every so often. 

“She’s going to be okay, alright, Cal?” Talia tells her. “It will take time, but you got her out of there.” 

“I did this to her,” Cal whispers, shaking her head, refusing to disturb Juliette in her lap. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.” 

Talia seems to realize that Calliope will take no reassurance now, and turns back to the road. Calliope continues to try to memorize the contours of Juliette’s face. 

When they pull up to the Fairmont mansion, the residence is dark and all but deserted. Talia doesn’t sense any guards, so they walk cautiously up to the front door. 

Talia stands back on the landing and lets Cal have a final moment with Juliette, keeping an eye out for any approaching attackers, but Cal is completely centered on laying Juliette down as comfortably and gingerly as possible. 

Juliette stirs slightly and lets out a little groan when she hits the ground. 

“It’s okay,” Calliope promises reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay now. I promise, I won’t let anything like this happen to you ever again.” 

Cal takes a step back. 

“And if you never want to see me again, that’s okay too,” she vows. “I’ll find a way to protect you from afar. But I won’t stop wanting to see you safe.” 

She takes another step back, over to where the doorbell is. 

“And, Jules…I’ll never stop loving you.” 

Cal presses the doorbell hard, three times in a row, before she and her mother make a break for where their car is idling in the drive. 

Cal sweeps into the passenger seat and watches as the lights slowly flick on in the Fairmont mansion. She sees the subtle rise and fall of breathing by the shapeless mass in the doorway. 

She hopes Juliette knows how sorry she is. 

She hopes that was a good enough goodbye.

Chapter Text

Her throat is burning. 

Before Juliette opens her eyes, she can't place exactly where she is, and there is a dull shudder that runs through her body. 

But as she begins to come back to herself, pushing aside her unshakable thirst, she realizes that she's horizontal, enveloped in pillows and warm, soft blankets. 

The comfort of it feels foreign. Juliette feels undeserving. 

It feels like a dream and she hasn't had the luxury of an escape in too long. She doesn't want to open her eyes.

She licks at dry lips, pulls a downy blanket closer, the velvet brushing her cheek, and nuzzles into the comforting scent of coconut and lavender. She inhales and the air flows into her lungs and settles. She sighs out, and there is no stinging fire from a garotte. 

In fact, most of her body is maintaining a dull ache. The searing baseline of pain she had come to expect has eased away, and she is almost comfortable in her body again. 

She nearly forgot what it was like to not mind being in her own skin. 

Juliette arches her back slightly, her neck cracking, and the stretch makes her muscles ache pleasantly, like she had done just enough exercise to feel it the next day, but not hurt. She blinks one eye open slowly, then the other, and squints blearily until the blue of her bedroom comes into focus. 

Oh. Home. 

She’s safe. She doesn’t hurt. 

Juliette sits up quickly, tossing the blankets off of her, and winces slightly. She’s thirsty, but that has to be put second after the absolute strangeness occurring. 

Did she make it all up? The ambush, the kidnapping, the weeks in the basement away from sunlight? 

Examining herself in the mirror, Juliette takes stock of where she knows she had injuries. 

Her wrists look whole and functional, and when she rolls them around, balls her hands into fists and moves her fingers, there isn’t a trace of discomfort. She lifts her shirt to examine previously bruised and broken ribs, but her skin is unmarked. She turns with her shirt still up to examine her back, but the burn marks she could smell cooking in deep after every jab from the cattle prod have receded into nothing. 

Juliette looks at her face closely, examines her jaw, turns from side to side to check her temples. She can feel the ache when she closes her eyes, and she remembers the feeling of blood trickling down into the corner of her eyes, blinding her, but there is no proof. 

What if she dreamed it all? 

Her throat is raw and parched, and she thinks back to the last time she fed. 

Talia had brought bags of blood and squeezed bags of fresh blood into Juliette’s mouth, and Juliette remembers imbibing almost deliriously. Her body moved on autopilot, guiding her mouth to the opening and pressing her fangs forward. 

The blood must have kickstarted the healing process. That was it. She couldn’t be making it all up. 

Juliette gives herself one more long look in the mirror before retreating back to her bed. 

Her thirst could wait for a minute more; she needs to get her head straight. The night before is a blur and the only thing she remembers at all was being carried out of an SUV and being carefully lowered to the ground in front of her front door. From there, her memory is a void. Her exhausted body took in the smell and feel of her home, interpreted it as safety, and put her to sleep. 

The only thing she can’t place is the blanket she woke up in. If Talia carried her up to the door, why did the blanket smell so intensely of Calliope? 

She stops herself before she can follow that train of thought too far, though, pulls her face away from the blanket she pressed to her nose, and decides to brave a conversation with her family. 

She’s uncharacteristically nervous. Usually she knows how to play her parents like a fiddle: polite and demure with Margot and daddy’s little girl with Sebastian, pressing hard on the nostalgia factor. 

She can normally get away without having to tell them too much, because as much as they pretend to care, there are certain things neither of them know how to feel anymore.

It’s easy to forget, but her parents aren’t human. Her mother has never been, and it’s obvious Margot simply doesn’t understand the frailty and wanting that comes with humanity. She can’t fathom the depth of emotion that humans need to experience to get through their short and tedious days. 

Margot has made it clear that she doesn’t understand why anyone would want to waste so much time worrying about what might be, when they don’t have the time to see the outcome. She’s lived for so long already, lifetimes Juliette has only heard stories about, and Margot wants so many more. 

Juliette doesn’t understand it. She’s thought about places she would rather be, sure, but the wellspring of humanity calls to her, gives her hope. She read fairy tales as a child and always dreamed of being the knight for some princess locked in a tower. 

Her father had always been a different story. He was younger, for one, and still remembered what it was like before he had been turned. He would tell Juliette, before tucking her in at night, how good it was that she tried so hard to be kind, even if Elinor had broken the arms off of all of her dolls. Juliette, even then, made allowances for her sister, telling her father it was just a game she and Elinor had designed together. 

Juliette had always just wanted to be included. She just wanted to fit in. 

As time passed and his career advanced, her father was home less, and his humanity diminished with his proximity to politics, so it was school and it was Ben, and it was watching from afar as all her classmates got happy endings. It was sitting quietly at the dinner table on the rare nights they were all home, and listening to her family talk somewhere above her head about things she never wanted to be. 

Often, it was usually easy to brush them off with a quiet, “school’s been fine,” and “I still have enough pills, thank you,” before fixing her gaze on the pattern of the table cloth. 

Informing them of torture is going to be a longer conversation. 

Juliette can hear her parents’ hushed voices at the dinner table and she pauses, just out of sight, to steel herself. She can’t hear Elinor, but that doesn’t mean Elinor isn’t home and hiding as she is wont to do. She hears her parents still, and she knows that they can feel her presence, that they’re just waiting for her to announce herself. 

She takes a deep breath, and rounds the corner. Her mother is wearing a tight smile, and her father’s face bears no pretense. They’re both upset, but she’ll let them have this. Knowing your youngest daughter underwent something horrible can’t be easy. They’re going to run out of kids, at this rate. 

“Hi,” she offers. 

Margot looks unimpressed, while Sebastian itches uncomfortably at his collar. He’s…shedding, which feels like something Juliette should have noticed before now. She sends him a strange look, before continuing. 

“I’m here,” she tells them, helpfully. 

“I see that,” Margot looks down her nose at Juliette, appraising her. Juliette suddenly feels very small. “And where were you for the past few weeks?” 

An involuntary shiver runs down Juliette’s spine. She stands up straighter, trying to present the illusion of a confidence she doesn’t feel before she says, “At the Burns house. They-” 

“I really can’t believe you,” Sebastian interrupts. “We had to handle everything with your sister, problems that you caused, and you went off to spend time with the hunter girl?”

Juliette’s jaw drops. “What? No, I-”

Margot steamrolls over her. “What your father is trying to say, Juliette, is that we did what you said when you were threatening to run away with her. We did our best to accommodate your…indiscretion, but this was truly too far. As a Legacy of Atwood heritage, there are certain standards we must follow to preserve that name. We’re disappointed in you.” 

Juliette frowns. She has no idea what’s even going on here. 

“And just because you won’t wrinkle as fast doesn’t mean pouting won’t leave a mark, dear,” Margot adds. 

Sebastian doesn’t look satisfied, but swallows the snarl on his face as Margot taps twice gently at the back of his hand. Her parents turn away from her, clearly satisfied with the way they approached parenting the situation, while Juliette stares at them, aghast. 

“They kidnapped me!” Juliette says loudly, incredulous. Margot’s head turns slowly, but Sebastian’s full attention snaps over to Juliette quickly. 

He hisses, “What?” and bares his fangs, already out despite the lack of a threat. He’s volatile and it makes Juliette uneasy. Margot raises one manicured eyebrow. 

“The night that everything happened with Elinor,” Juliette explains slowly, and she still can’t believe they thought she was being rebellious. “Cal came here really late, and told me wanted to talk outside, and I said okay.” 

Sebastian makes a noise in his throat that sounds like a mixture of choking and growling. Margot places a calm hand on his arm and nods for Juliette to continue, so she does. 

“When I got downstairs, Calliope looked really nervous, but before I could ask anything, her dad and brother knocked me out, and I spent the past two weeks in their basement,” Juliette summarizes. Her mother’s eyebrow twitches slightly, and seeing the usually unflappable Margot Fairmont’s facade slip is almost a reward.

Sebastian looks between the two women. Margot considers her words carefully before speaking. 

“That is…regrettable,” she doesn’t look at Juliette as she speaks delicately. “I can only assume they were given information about the Legacy world?” 

“Mon!” Juliette exclaims, frustrated. “I tell you I was locked in a basement by a family of monster hunting lunatics for two weeks, and you’re worried that I gave away Legacy secrets?” 

Margot, ever ladylike, shrugs slightly. 

Juliette feels a chill settle into her chest and she forces the white hot pang of anger down. She stills her face and calms herself, and is very deliberate as she tells her mother, “I didn’t give them anything they didn’t already have. I told them that I didn’t know anything because they interrupted my consecration ceremony. There’s no need to alert the council.” 

Margot visibly relaxes. “Oh. Good.”

Margot smiles over at Sebastian, who looks like he has a bad case of indigestion and is trying to hold it back. “We have enough to deal with, what with the inquest into your grandmother’s disappearance, any more unfortunate behavior would only make our position weaker.” 

Juliette pushes her hair back, away from her face, annoyed at the shift in conversation. “What happened to Grandmother?” 

Sebastian and Margot exchange a quick look. 

“Your grandmother, ah…” Margot starts. 

“I ate her,” Sebastian offers diplomatically. 

“…Okay,” Juliette allows. She watches her parents and waits for someone to elaborate, and when no one does, pushes for more. “Dad ate her?”

Margot nods once. 

“And we’re just going to pretend like nothing happened?” 

Another short nod. 

“But the Emerald Malkia is-” Juliette began to ask. 

Margot cut her off. “Nothing for you to worry about. You just got home! You should go back to bed and rest! I’ll bring you a glass of something to make you feel better, alright?” 

Juliette watches as her mother sweeps out of the room. 

That was not the reaction she expected. The flame of anger flickers wildly in her chest, but she bites her tongue and makes bewildered eye contact with her father. 

“Dad?” she asks, hoping he’ll give her something more. 

Suddenly he’s moving, towering over her in a very weird way. Juliette takes an involuntary step back. 

“Say the word and I’ll take them all down,” Sebastian vows fervently. His energy is strange and his scent is off; Juliette doesn’t like the way he’s acting. 

“Okay Dad,” she backs away further, trying not to antagonize him. “I appreciate it.” 

He gives her a stiff nod, before turning away and following Margot out of the kitchen. 

So no, her parents were not worried about the fact that she had disappeared. 

Her father is angry, but it was a strange anger, one with his energy glowing ominously at the center. And it is obvious that he isn’t angry that she had been hurt — he hasn’t asked her once if she was okay. Neither of them have. 

And Margot only thinks about how any misstep impacts their positioning within Legacy politics. It was all about how her suffering would impact them. 

They still didn’t even know the details of the torture. 

They had assumed she was weak, went willingly, and had spilled all their secrets. It was good to know they thought so little of her. 

The flame of anger spearing through her chest spreads, and she can’t contain it. Her throat aches at the force of it. 

It doesn’t make sense that her parents care so little, even with all of the problems they seem to have. 

If her parents won't listen, and Cal isn’t an option, Juliette is running out of people who care about her. 

She grabs her keys from the bowl in the front foyer and rushes out of the door, glancing surreptitiously to her left and right before continuing down. Her senses are all on high alert. This is the first time she has been outside by herself since the night she was abducted. 

She jumps into her car, closes the door and locks it, feeling the textured leather of the steering wheel under her hands. 

She’s furious, she realizes. The feeling in her chest is a combination of pain, frustration, and anger.. Her parents should have believed her, listened to her without introducing any caveats. 

Elinor was killing people and collecting trophies of her kills, and yet it was Juliette they were upset with? 

Their precious status, the prestige of the Atwood name, is all that matters to Margot. Even more so now that she is Keeper. 

No, Juliette disappearing for two weeks was nothing more than a blip on their radar. Somehow, despite Oliver getting banished and Elinor being a serial killer, Juliette was their problem child. 

It’s fucked. 

She tries to center herself before putting the car into drive and pulling out of the driveway, but it’s touch and go. Her parents have always been more distant, she tries to rationalize. She drives through familiar streets and turns up the radio, humming along to distract herself. 

It’s muggy outside, the atmosphere pressing down heavily around her ears. Juliette feels everything just as keenly as she did before her first kill, the sensory deprivation and recent healing waking her body up. 

She’s still thirsty, didn’t have time to feed between the random inquisition she endured with her parents and leaving the house hurriedly, but she’s used to suppressing her thirst most of the time, pushing her nature down until it can’t hurt anyone. 

It used to be her greatest, deepest fear, accidental monstrosity. It wasn’t something she chose or something she could ever truly run from, but she wanted so deeply to belong to a different world that the idea of losing control plagued her constantly. 

Juliette has practiced keeping a tight handle on her desires, mostly. Calliope is an unfortunate exception, but even that was good until it wasn’t. 

She pulls straight in to Ben’s driveway when she doesn’t see Bunny’s car, and starts to bend to pick up rocks to toss at Ben’s window before she pauses. 

It was always how she got Ben’s attention, but it’s tainted now. 

She thinks about Calliope, hugging her stomach and glowing in moonlight, the garden stretching out behind her. 

Instead, Juliette walks up to the door and rings the bell. She shifts uneasily from foot to foot when she doesn’t hear anything, glancing back over at her car. She presses at the doorbell again, more insistently.

Finally, after what feels like hours, she hears reluctant footsteps coming closer to the entrance, and an unhappy face pops around the corner. 

There’s no hello, no I-missed-you!, just a sigh, before Ben steps out of the house, closes the front door behind him, and leans heavily against it. 

“Hey,” Juliette offers. 

Ben crosses his arms. “Where the hell have you been?” 

“It’s been complicated,” Juliette begins, but Ben cuts her off. People seem to keep doing that.

“It’s been complicated here. Bunny’s been a nightmare, and I don’t see you for weeks after I climb up the side of your house to warn you?” Ben is harsh. It’s obvious he’s upset and Juliette knows he doesn’t do well with being ignored. 

“I know, I just-” 

“Just couldn’t pull yourself away from the new girl long enough to respond? You two were cuddled up with a mob outside your house, I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Ben persists. 

“Ben,” Juliette tries again, but he can’t seem to stop now that he’s started. 

“And I get it, Letty, I really do. This girl you like is suddenly into you too, and you haven’t had that before, so it’s a big deal. But you can’t just leave everything behind to be with her and not even send me a text,” he rambles on, gesticulating with his hands. 

Juliette attempts to cut in with her explanation. “It wasn’t that at all, it was more complicated than that.” 

Ben scoffs. “Yeah? Well your phone was in the same house for the past two weeks, and it wasn’t yours, so, I don’t think it can be that complicated. Noah died, Letty, and I really liked him, even if you thought he was playing me. Where the hell were you after that? Too busy playing with your girlfriend?”

“Don’t,” Juliette warns. She knows she won’t be able to keep a tight lid on her frustration if he talks about Cal. 

“No, you know what, I was your best friend for years,” Ben continues furiously. “All of a sudden a pretty girl pays attention to you and you prioritize her over everything else. You’ve always been so insanely all-or-nothing, you get something in your head, and you won’t stop until you get it, even if the people around you are falling apart.” 

Juliette squeezes her eyes shut, and a drumbeat starts pounding behind her eyes. 

“That’s not fair,” she gets out. But also? It might be a little fair. 

Ben levels a glare at her. “Yeah? The entire city is monster hunting and Bunny has been insane and I’ve been alone here, but no, I’m glad you got to spend time away with your girlfriend.” 

Juliette feels like she’s about to explode, but she doesn’t want to blurt out what happened. She can’t just correct him to say, actually I was stuck in a basement where my “girlfriend’s” father tortured me to within an inch of my sanity and it seems like no one in my life thought anything was wrong, no one thought to even look for me.  

Ben takes her silence as a sign to continue. “You’re flighty as fuck, Letty. Everything was so messed up, and where were you?” 

“Trying to avoid getting staked by a mob,” Juliette explodes. “Because, in case you forgot, I’m the exact type of monster they were hunting.” 

“Yeah,” Ben says disparagingly. “That too, huh. Too busy pretending to be one of us to remember that real humans actually have feelings.” 

Juliette feels tears of frustration prickle at the corner of her eyes. “How can you say that? You’ve known me basically your whole life, and that’s still how you think I am?”

“I don’t know how you are,” Ben tells her. “I don’t recognize you.” 

Juliette’s mouth hangs open wordlessly. Ben seems to have plenty to fill the space. 

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m going to Athens this week, which you would know if you had returned any of my calls, so you won’t have to hang out with me if it’s that much of a burden for you.” 

Her fangs throb and her throat is uncomfortable beyond belief. He still doesn’t even know about the torture, she thinks desperately as Ben turns to go. 

“Ben,” she reaches out towards him, but steps back when he flinches hard and pulls away. Her hands fall uselessly by her sides. “Can you please just listen to me?”

He sighs, exasperated, before dramatically turning to look at her. “Say whatever you’re dying to say, Letty.” 

She stops, his complete and utter apathy hitting her across the face. Juliette is sure that she looks like a fish, gaping at him. 

But honestly, how does this keep happening? Why are all the people in her life blaming her for disappearing when she was kidnapped?

Is this what everyone thinks of her? That she’s really that selfish?

She still hasn’t said anything, so Ben looks at her and shakes his head. He looks genuinely sad as he turns to open the door. 

“Okay, Letty. You have my number.”

The sight of Ben turning his back breaks something in her. She’s been too hungry for too long, and her head hurts, and Juliette just doesn’t understand why no one will listen to her as she tries to tell them what’s going on. 

Before she knows it, Ben is pressed up against the door, her fangs are bared, and the scent of fear is filling the air as Juliette’s hand clutches close at Ben’s neck.

His eyes are wide and panicked and she wants nothing more than to bite, a predator with her prey, but Ben lets out a quiet “Letty?” and she’s stumbling backwards. 

Juliette doesn’t say anything, just throws a panicked glance over her shoulder as she falls over herself on the way back to her car. She rips the door open and doesn’t bother buckling her seatbelt before peeling out of the driveway fast. 

The image of Ben supporting himself against his front door, one hand massaging his throat, watching her leave with horror in his eyes, haunts her.  

Something had taken control of her body just then. Some vicious hunting instinct had taken control. 

She liked it. 

It was odd; Juliette had never felt at home in her body, really, everything too big or loud or fast through her enhanced senses. But moving so quickly, being in the mode to take down her prey, suddenly all of those senses were in alignment. She had felt every exhale Ben took, could count the time between each unsteady heartbeat as she had him pinned against the wall. 

Her body felt like hers. Juliette wasn’t sure she had ever fit so well in her own skin. 

The worst part was that it felt good, but it didn’t feel like she had any control. Her mind escaped her and her true nature, the very thing she had worked for years to suppress, drove her completely. 

It was selfish. But it felt good. 

She turned hard back into her own driveway, put the car into park, and leaned back in her seat, staring unseeingly out of the windshield. 

If the people closest to her already thought she was selfish, the type of person to run away without another word, why even bother with anything else? 

What more could she possibly lose? 

The more she thinks about it, the more bitter Juliette feels.

At the end of the day, Theo was gone before she had ever walked into the bathroom. His last gasp for help would have gone unheard if Juliette had not been in the bathroom cleaning up. She turned his final moments into something more. She helped him in a way no one else could. 

Calliope should be grateful. 

All Juliette had done, all she had tried to do since they had met, was for Calliope. 

And now people were calling her selfish. 

She gets out of her car and shuts the door hard, before stalking up the staircase slowly. 

Juliette unlocks the front door of the house quietly, but she walks in confidently, not trying to hide from anyone or anything. Her fangs are out, a bitter, angry hunger brewing in her, made worse by the earlier proximity to potential prey. 

She doesn’t even bother trying to hide them away. 

The kitchen is empty, so she wanders to the living room, to find her mother poised perfectly with a book. 

“Juliette,” Margot acknowledges, looking up briefly. “You left rather quickly this morning.” 

Juliette doesn’t even bother replying to the unasked question — Margot doesn’t need to know anything about where she’s been. 

“I was being held a neighborhood away,” Juliette begins instead. “And for two weeks, no one thought to look for me?” 

Margot does wince, her face going drawn, and Juliette feels a vindictive rush of pleasure at the thought of making her mother uncomfortable. The shoe is finally on the other foot. 

“We…preemptively assumed,” Margot offered carefully, “And obviously assumed wrongly, that you had simply followed through with your threat to run away with that girl.”

“You thought I would just leave town without taking any of my things?” Juliette presses. She flashes a toothy smile at Margot, stalking forward casually to stand uncomfortably close. 

Margot, to her credit, doesn’t step back, but she does peer down at Juliette in apprehension. 

“You had threatened the very same once or twice before,” Margot responds tiredly. “There was so much happening with Elinor the same night, we honestly couldn’t keep up with it all.”

“No,” Juliette muses, affecting a profound tone, mocking Margot’s speech patterns. “I don’t suppose you could keep up.” 

Juliette steps back suddenly, and it throws Margot off. 

“You’re a terrible mother,” Juliette mentions, off-hand. “You know that?” 

Margot shakes her head. “That is unkind, Juliette.” 

Juliette doesn’t care. She lets out a bark of a laugh, almost doesn’t recognize the sound of her own voice, but still says, “No, no I’m serious! Three kids and every one of them is a complete fuck-up. You built a family of monsters and let us grow up side by side with humans. There are places we could have been surrounded by people like us, but instead we’re here, in a city full of strangers who hate us, and it’s your fault.” 

She catches her reflection out of the corner of her eye as she flounces out of the room. Her face is wild and flushed, but she looks content. 

There was a sick thrill in the pleasure that came with a little bit of hurting someone. Maybe Jack Burns was onto something after all. 

The first night back in her own bed, Juliette dreams. 

She goes to bed early, asleep by eight o’clock, in and out of her fondest memories and visions of Eden. 

But halfway through, it switches to unpleasantly. Oliver’s face fades in and out of her field of vision, and his voice sounds like static on an old TV set. 

“Is this working?” he asks, cutting in and out. 

She doesn’t respond, just looks around. This feels boring. She’d rather dream of something more worthwhile, like the satiating memory of her first kill, but Oliver is staring at her expectantly. 

“Yes, hello,” she responds flatly. “I was sleeping.” 

Oliver breaks into a wide, fake grin. “C’mon baby sister!” 

He spreads his arms wide, gesturing broadly at the space around him, and she follows his arms up to take in the room. 

“It took a lot of effort for Carmen to get you here at all, so we don’t have long, but you’ve been unreachable for a couple weeks,” he adds. 

“Yeah, I was locked up in a monster hunter’s basement,” she says nonchalantly. 

Oliver nods knowingly. “The Burnses sure know how to treat a houseguest. I got the Talia Burns special for a little bit myself.” 

Juliette raises her eyebrows. “Oh yeah? I had Jack for most of it, but Apollo was there too.” 

Oliver pouts slightly. “I didn’t really get to play with any of the boys, but Talia got a few good hours in with her screwdriver while Mom was on the phone.” 

Juliette can’t help it; she laughs. 

“What?” Oliver frowns at her. “It was uncomfortable.” 

“No, no,” she tries to stymie her laughter, but to no avail. “A few hours with a screwdriver? That’s all?”

“I mean…yeah?” Oliver looks uncertain. 

“I was there for two weeks,” Juliette doesn’t even hate the fact that it sounds like she’s bragging. It should be a badge of honor. “I got full silver, cattle prod, the works.” 

Oliver whistles, low and slow, obviously impressed. “How’d you get out then?” 

Here, Juliette hesitates. Other than Talia’s voice and the overwhelming scent of Calliope on that blanket, she doesn’t remember.

“I’m…not entirely sure,” she admits. 

“Still,” Oliver says. “It’s impressive you look as good as you do.” 

Juliette throws him a fake smile. She doesn’t give a fuck, really, about whatever drama Oliver is trying to stir up. She just wants him out of her dream. 

“Did you need something?” she asks him, hoping he’ll get to the point. 

“Aha!” He smiles, and points at her with a flourish. “Good point, baby sister. No, I wanted to invite you to be part of something bigger than yourself.” 

Juliette yawns toothily, the edge of her fangs, which never fully retracted, snagging on her bottom lip. 

“I’ll make it quick,” Oliver promises. “Come with me?”

He stretches his hand out to her and she takes it reluctantly. 

He parts a shimmering dream wall, and pulls her through to a large open yard populated entirely by monsters. 

It’s almost impressive, until she notices that none of the monsters are even vaguely humanoid. She may not have paid close attention to the Legacy learning sessions she was forced to attend, but she did know that anything without a human shape was often weaker and dumber than anything else. They were good at following orders, but were not much into independent thought. 

“A bunch of low-level beasties,” she drawled out. “Impressive.” 

Oliver tuts at her, booping her lightly on the nose. She stares cross-eyed where his finger touched her, annoyed but unsurprised. 

“Where’s your imagination?” he asks her exuberantly. “Think of what they can do now!” 

“What they can do,” Juliette repeats, uninterested. 

“Exactly!” The less she cares, the more animated he gets. “Savannah needs monsters to balance it all. D’you remember when we were kids and Dad helped lead a Legacy task force to sweep the monsters out of the city?” 

Juliette nods, remembering it vaguely. 

“It ruined things,” Oliver tells her gravely. “The natural balance, between humans and monsters, was interrupted. The world runs on survival of the fittest, it demands that the strong survive and the weak falter. A golem in Prague taught me that.” 

He looks over at her, an eyebrow raised as if she should be terribly impressed. 

“Wow,” Juliette’s face does not change. 

“The golem was impossible to defeat, unless you knew the true name of its maker,” Oliver expands. “But it had killed its maker long ago, so it was the only creature that could control its destiny. That’s what we’re trying to do here.”

“You want these monsters…to betray you and each other?” Juliette had heard her whole life that Oliver wasn’t fully sane, but she was seeing the proof in front of her. 

“No, no of course not,” Oliver replies, frustrated. “I’m setting them free. They’ll run through the city and while the Guild and the Legacy Council are busy controlling the monsters and the humans are running for cover through the streets, the strong can reclaim their natural place out of the shadows.” 

Juliette looks at him incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“They’re the first phase,” Oliver explains. “A distraction. Once they’re out in the world, Carmen, her coven, and I will be able to exert our control over the city and I’ll bring the Emerald Malkia to Carmen to control the fate of all Legacy vampires. 

“But why?” Juliette presses. 

A cloud passes over Oliver’s face. 

“Some people don’t deserve to lead,” he spits out. “Our parents bought into the sick system we were raised in, and they fell for all of Elinor’s pretty lies. They’re like your little girl from the woods.” 

“How are our parents like Calliope?” Juliette challenges. The hair on the back of her neck stands up at the mention of Calliope’s first interaction with her brother, before she can remind her nervous system to calm down. 

“They’re drones, soldiers without minds of their own. They’re all exactly like the army I’ve amassed here,” Oliver surveys his crowd proudly. “But we could use a new general.” 

He looks at her pointedly, and Juliette examines the monsters carefully. 

She recognizes a few zombies, a Shambler, and something that looks like it’s on fire, before a ghoul moves out of the way and she recognizes broad square shoulders and close cropped black hair. 

“Ah,” Oliver follows her gaze. “That one is an interesting case.” 

Theo Burns. Juliette feels herself flush when the dream version of Theo turns to keep his back to a wall, instead of towards any monsters. His instincts have not changed, even with vampirism. 

“His mother dropped him off here,” Oliver adds, conversationally. “I think he might be a brilliant asset. He’s been asking a lot of questions.” 

He’s playing you, Juliette wants to shout, but she feels almost paralyzed at the sight of Theo. 

“I’ll think about it,” she tells Oliver. “Can I get back to sleep now?” 

Oliver grins wide and places both hands on Juliette’s shoulders. 

“You won’t regret it!” he beams. 

“Mhmm,” Juliette fakes another smile. 

Oliver parts another shimmering dream wall for Juliette to walk through, and she falls heavily back into her body. 

Elinor is there when Juliette opens her eyes. 

She doesn’t realize at first, blinking slowly into the darkness of her room.

The night is still pitch black— whatever strange magic Oliver used to infiltrate Juliette’s dream must not have taken much time at all, because when she glances over at the clock on her bedside table, it only reads 11:35.

“Jesus,” Juliette jumps, putting her hand to her chest. “You can’t do that.” 

Elinor is stony-faced. 

“Juliette,” she greets, monotone. 

“What do you want now,” Juliette grumbles, rubbing blearily at the corner of her eye. Her throat hasn’t stopped hurting. She’s hungry, and her body is letting her know. It’s racing for action, even now without getting any real rest. 

“I’d start with an apology, for one,” Elinor tries for her typical haughty expression, and Juliette’s not sure why, but it sort of just looks pathetic now. 

Maybe she’s just waking up, but she looks at Elinor and feels no shame or remorse. Juliette thinks about Elinor’s selfishness, all of the natural manipulation through the years, and she doesn’t really feel for Oliver, but she does begin to understand him. 

“It’s early,” Juliette huffs and rolls over, pulling the blanket up over her head. Elinor speeds to the side of the bed to pull the blanket away, and Juliette sits up.  

“Hey!” she protests. 

“I had to sit in an interrogation room,” Elinor sneers at her. “You got me arrested.” 

“Yeah, well, they obviously got you out,” Juliette rolls her eyes and leans up against her headboard. 

Elinor has a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face. “I heard Mom and Dad talking about where you were.” 

Juliette rolls her eyes. “So?”

“So,” Elinor continues, her words measured and her tone intentionally light. “You kept calling out for Calliope in your sleep.” 

Juliette’s breath catches in her throat. She tries to continue feeling disaffected, but she knows she’s already given Elinor all of the reaction she needs. 

"Embarrassing, isn't it, sweet little?," Elinor purrs, voice dripping with disdain. "You did all this to your own family for a girl, and she led you into a trap." 

“Shut up, Elinor,” Juliette warns. She still hasn’t fed, and every time she gets upset, the urge to attack the nearest being begins to fill her with adrenaline. Her heart beats a wild rhythm, and her fangs slide lazily into place. 

Juliette looks up with wild eyes to see Elinor staring back at her delightedly at the reaction she caused. 

Elinor trills out a laugh. It grates on Juliette’s every nerve. “She was just using you, I hope you know. She got you to trust her, but the whole time, she was burrowing her way into your naive little heart so that her family could take advantage.” 

Taking a deep breath to control her baser impulses, Juliette decides to step out of bed and get ready. She’s awake now, she may as well go somewhere. She pulls on a dress she likes and starts to fix her hair as Elinor continues behind her. 

“It’s a shame, but you could have prevented it all,” Elinor sounds bored. Juliette watches her examining Elinor nails in the mirror, and clenches her jaw. “I brought you the girl, tied up like a present, and you were so weak, Jules. Are you sure you didn’t squeal like a pig when they tied you up? Do they know how to end us all, and you just forgot to mention?” 

Juliette frowns hard. “Of course I didn’t.” 

She turns around to face Elinor, who speeds close to stand right in front of Juliette’s face, even leaning down a little so they were eye to eye, face to face. 

“You’re the reason all of this happened,” Elinor tells her. “You and your obsession with precious Calliope.”

Elinor is smiling brightly, but her eyes are cold. Juliette sees red. 

She surges forward hard, pinning Elinor against one of the posts of her bed, both hands squeezing hard at Elinor’s neck. 

“Shut up,” Juliette growls out. Her whole body is humming with adrenaline and untamed, racing anger. 

Elinor just laughs in her face. “Did I hit a nerve talking about the human girl? When will you learn? Just because we look like them doesn’t mean we have to care about their short little lives.”

Juliette keeps her hands firm. “I don’t care about them.” 

“Look at yourself,” Elinor turns her nose up disdainfully. “You’re out of control, just because I mentioned her name. You don’t have the guts to actually hurt me.”

Before she’s aware of it, Juliette is moving, swinging Elinor onto the ground, hard, forcing her to lie flat on her stomach with her arms behind her back. Juliette is holding tightly to Elinor’s thin wrists, and she marvels at the power in her own hands. 

She thinks of Jack Burns snapping her wrists by stepping on them. She thinks of how incredibly easy it would be to hold a bit tighter and crush through solid bone. 

Juliette isn’t breathing hard, but Elinor is. 

Juliette doesn’t let go of Elinor’s wrists, but leans forward to whisper quietly, measured, into Elinor’s ear. 

“You really want to test that?” 

She can smell a hint of fear radiate out from Elinor’s scent. It’s intoxicating, alluring, everything her adrenaline-filled body is seeking right now. 

She needs to chase that feeling. 

Juliette pushes roughly off of Elinor and doesn’t look back as she heads for the door. 

She’s transcended her siblings. It’s mind-boggling that she used to be scared of Oliver; he behaves like a spoiled child. It’s absurd that Elinor’s manipulation could cow Juliette into quiet compliance; now it just feels contrived. 

Something happened to her. Something bad. And it made her different. 

She doesn’t see the point in pretending to be anything other than exactly what she is. 

Her whole body is aching for a fight, her legs longing for a chase, and she has more energy than she knows what to do with. 

Ben is moving. Oliver is insufferable and has grandiose plans that make no logical sense. Elinor is not a threat, or at least nothing Juliette hasn’t learned to handle. Her parents are worse than annoying, they’re incompetent but they won’t get in her way. 

Cal is going to stay out of her way. 

She’s aching for a fight. She’s hungry. 

She moves to leave the room, when she hears a sound from behind her. 

“Juliette,” Elinor calls. She is rubbing at her wrists, and looking halfway impressed. “It’s good to see you finally appreciating what you are.” 

Juliette doesn’t deign to respond, just turns to go down the stairs. 

Elinor had said that to her once before, outside of the restaurant with the actress playing Eve for her consecration ceremony. She had used almost those exact words: "I'm begging you, appreciate what you are."

Juliette had responded so quickly, she was so young and self-assured.

“You don’t understand,” she had said. Juliette is starting to think that she's the one who didn't understand.

Juliette makes her way to the bar.

It feels macabre, walking into the Wooden Stake, knowing that the last two times she had been there, people had died, but there’s a rush of excitement coursing through her body at the smell of high energy filling the air. 

There’s a reason why young people are called hot-blooded sometimes, the extreme nature of their passions, excitements, loves, and hates pumps in their veins. Juliette can smell it all. 

She feels confident in a way she has never really experienced before. Juliette can feel people watch her walk in, confident in a pair of boots she swiped from Elinor’s closet long ago. She doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate at all, and makes a bee-line for the bar. 

The bartender doesn’t ask for her ID, just gives her a nod and pours her a vodka soda. He has an understanding with her family and with the Legacy Council — having sympathizers that can be paid off is an important part of having power. His only request is to not leave dead bodies in his bar, and Elinor is good about cleaning up her own messes, usually. 

Juliette is looking for some good trouble like that. 

There is a girl, along the bar, a cloud of curls light like a halo around her pretty face, and Juliette can feel her watching. She gives the girl a side-long glance and an inviting smile, and waits. 

It doesn’t take long before the girl comes up to her. Juliette barely listens as they make polite conversation; she can’t keep her eyes off of the girl’s gorgeous long neck. 

Juliette’s keen eyes watch the girl’s pulse jump in the hollow of her neck and she feels the need to feed consume her entirely. 

Later, she won’t be able to recount exactly what she said to get whatever-her-name-is to follow her into the bathroom, she won’t remember who leaned in first to meet the other in a messy, drunken kiss, she won’t know how they managed to lock themselves in a bathroom stall. 

But everything else burns crystal clear in her memory. 

They kiss fast and hard, hands roaming and hips rocking. Juliette slots her thigh high between the girl’s strong legs and pushes her against the wall. 

“Fuck, just like that,” the girl whimpers and pants as Juliette moves down, following the sharp slant of the girl’s jawline down to her perfect, unblemished neck. 

Juliette lavishes attention onto both sides, nipping and sucking at every spot that makes the girl in front of her writhe and beg for more.

And as soon as she’s asked to give more, Juliette does. 

There’s no dramatic moment, no head back, fangs bared, climactic action, but Juliette has been ravenous all day and the girl in front of her is begging for it. 

Her fangs bore perfect little holes into the girl’s neck, and Juliette feels the brunette under her whimper slightly, her hips jumping at the sensation. Juliette keeps her hands firm, one palm cupped securely around a soft cheek, ensuring the angle stays right, the other languidly squeezing and playing with the girl’s hip, drawing her in closer. 

The taste is exquisite; it’s hot, and Juliette’s eyes close involuntarily as the first dregs of copper hit her tongue. She sees stars, drinking greedily, as the blood seeps out, notes of bitter dark chocolate and salted caramel exploding across her tongue. 

She’s never experienced this level of bliss. She understands Elinor now, gets why vampires throughout history have drained people without hesitation. 

When the victim wants it, it can’t be that bad. 

Especially since it feels so good.

This is better than any piddling kiss in a pantry, fighting her instincts and letting Calliope decide the pace. Juliette makes the calls here. She decides what they do, who gets to touch, and when to break away.

She was born for this, to bite and feed and take what she wants. Hundreds of years of Legacy distilled into one body, and it’s Darwin, survival of the fittest. 

Evolution has prayed for a monster like her. 

Juliette lathes and licks at the spots on the girl’s neck, and what’s-her-name is quivering and moaning, rocking hard against Juliette, clawing at Juliette to move and give her more. But Juliette is in charge here; she deserves this, after all, and she’s determined to take what she wants. 

So she pushes, hard, forces the girl back against the wall, and sucks demandingly. 

Whoever-she-is cries out and Juliette is vaguely aware of a wet patch on her bare thigh, but the blood is nectar, too good to stop. She doesn’t want to stop. 

She doesn’t stop. 

The girl shakes in Juliette’s arms, coming down from her high, and it’s annoying, so Juliette presses impossibly closer to keep her still, and the girl starts weakly batting at Juliette’s shoulder. 

That’s not allowed. Juliette isn’t done. She still wants. She might never stop wanting. 

She laps harder at a pale and straining neck, keeping the body beneath her pinned close to the wall. The girl is louder now, breathing harder, and Juliette doesn’t think anything of it, intent on enjoying every last instant of the moment.  

The blood tastes different now, wilder, like there is something desperate. Where before it was giddy with endorphins, now it tastes like prey, and something primal in Juliette snaps. 

She takes one last long drag before pulling away, taking in a deep breath. Her head lolls back, hinging at her neck and she smiles up at the sky, blood-smeared and untamed. 

If this is what it means to be a monster, she is more than willing to oblige. 

She looks at the limp body in front of her, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and laughs a little when it comes away red. 

She feels loose, miles away from her body, high like the time she and Elinor drained the man on ecstasy. A little giggle trips out of her mouth, surprising her, and she steps back, covering her mouth as she begins to laugh fully, deeply. The body in the bathroom slumps down to the floor, but Juliette stares at her own reflection in the mirror, examining the way the traces of blood form a scarred smile. 

She drags her index finger through sticky, coagulating blood while shooting her reflection a smug grin, and sucks at every last drop of nourishment. 

She hasn’t been this full, sated, content, ever. 

She remembers her bag, back in the stall, and almost trips over the body sprawled across the floor. 

“Oops,” she giggles out loud, and bends down. 

Juliette tries to remember the name of the girl in front of her, checks for a pulse. She frowns exaggeratedly when she doesn’t find one, grabs her backpack, and stands up, examining the scene in front of her. 

It’s going to be so annoying to carry her to the water, but she supposes there’s nothing else to be done. 

Juliette kneels and fishes out the girl’s wallet. If what’s-her-face is going to disappear, someone might as well know who exactly was being vanished in the night. 

Juliette digs for the girl’s license, and examines it closely. Allison Barker, from North Carolina, registered as an organ donor. 

She certainly was a blood donor. And now she is dead. 

Juliette slips the ID into her own pocket and puts Allison’s wallet back into her pocket. 

Pity, Juliette muses, hefting Allison’s weight in her arms and pushing out the back door of the club. She was pretty.  

Juliette goes out more and more after that night. 

There is a reason they call it bloodlust; now that she’s slaked her thirst in the warm, rich blood of a willing victim, she knows she can never go back. There is no drug as powerful, no warmth as overwhelmingly satiating as the first sip.  

She does switch it up, going after men mostly after Allison. It feels safer, somehow to know there is no chance of her feeling anything for them, not even a passing flash of remorse. 

She has a method, always letting the men approach her, and not the other way around. 

She doesn’t go to the back with just anyone, preferring to play mostly with out-of-towners, the ones who walk in and look around in askance before they decide on their course of action for the night. She never goes anywhere with regulars. 

Men make it easy. They’re simple to lure out back if she bats her eyes and lies through her pretty little teeth. She always makes sure to give them a chance, before she drains them. 

Juliette brings them into the bathroom stall with her and doesn’t even let them get close enough to touch before she pretends to change her mind. 

If they back away, turn to leave, she lets them. 

But if they push forward to put their hands on her, she has her fangs in their necks before they know it. 

It’s delicious. She tastes every flavor and variant of blood, the alcohol present in their systems giving her a nice buzz. She develops a taste for arrogance, the way pure confidence radiates through these men, giving way to fear as she steadily sucks away their life force.

She loves watching them realize it isn’t worth it to struggle. 

She always picks up their IDs, building her own collection. It’s the only way Juliette can remember exactly who she’s played with, and exactly where they’re from. Allison’s ID sits at a prized place at the front of her collection, but the rest are quick to follow. 

Eventually she gets to a place where she wants to see exactly what she can do. She experiments. 

She plays with castration first when Brett-from-DC gets a little too close. His organs make a satisfying pop, but she doesn’t love having to reach down there, so she decides to move to the next thing. 

Neil-from-Colorado is boring, so she rips his tongue out on a whim, and likes it so much that she tries again with Samuel-from-New-Jersey. Barrett-from-Louisiana is particularly slimy and the way he dances reminds Juliette of Smashley, so she sees if she can claw out his liver. It’s surprisingly easy. 

Robert-from-New-York leaves the bathroom when Juliette tells him no, and she’s almost disappointed that she has to let him live, but she watches him dance with other girls, watches him keep his hands on them, and she waits outside after the bar has closed for him to stumble out. She takes special, anatomic pleasure in breaking each of his fingers before stealing the scream from his throat and leeching him dry. 

There is only one night, with a special case, where Juliette almost breaks her own rules. Thomas is from Georgia, from Savannah, in fact, but goes to school in Missouri. He manages to lock her in conversation for far longer than she wants, but she tries to listen politely, until he starts spewing nonsense about monster-human relations, and she can’t stand it anymore. 

She brings him to the alley behind the bar and shoves him against the wall hard. He’s stunned, for a second, out of breath, but is about to smile before Juliette rips into his chest. 

He dies slowly, but the smile is frozen on his face, and Juliette stares as his heart in her hand. She watches as it slowly fades to stillness. 

It is supremely satisfying to be able to shut him up. 

The worst nights are the ones where she sees Apollo, hunched over a drink with his head down. 

She gives him a wide berth. Juliette is sure he sees her sometimes, but she refuses to make eye contact and she refuses to engage. Her hunt has rules, and she’s going to stick to them. 

And it’s none of her business anyway if Apollo decides he wants to drink himself to death. 

Good, she tries to convince herself. He fucking deserves to die.

She doesn’t do anything to expedite the process, so she’s not sure how much she believes it. 

Juliette is good at the hunt. She’s unthreatening at first glance, so no one ever expects her to be something to fear, and she uses that to her advantage. The M.A.A.Ms still patrol the streets of Savannah, and they don’t even notice her watching from the shadows. Juliette knows the Guild has regular missions to watch for vampiric activity, and she blends into the crowd whenever she spots someone wearing a lot of silver. 

She’s liberated. 

But she’s getting bored. 

The first few kills were so much more fun when there was an experimental element, but she’s got a fair grasp of human anatomy at this point, and just ripping throats out feels like artless work. 

It’s not a hunt, really, when the men are so willing, and the longing builds up in her, harder and harder to quell in the light of day. 

Blood that is willing tastes so good. But she’s a predator. The thrill of fear seasons her meals. It's always more fun when there’s a bit of a struggle, before her prey realizes she’s the last thing they’ll see. 

Juliette wants chaos in the streets. 

The urge to feed again builds up faster than ever, now that she’s unlocked it. Juliette finally begins to understand why Elinor had so much fun. 

It should frighten her that the thought doesn’t scare her anymore. 

There is one person she knows can be counted on for chaos. Or at least for putting up a fight. 

“Mother?” Juliette calls, returning home after a blood-stained night out. “Did I ever tell you I saw Oliver?”

Chapter Text

Ben is sweaty and pale when he knocks on the Burns’ door. 

The sound echoes through the empty house, which sits undisturbed like a mausoleum, a heavy sense of tragedy imbued into the very structure of the walls. 

It’s a week after…everything. Calliope still has no idea where Theo is, her parents have both been called to stand in front of the Guild and explain everything, and Apollo has been more driven than ever, going out and hunting nonstop, coming home in early hours, the front door slamming behind him in the stillness of the morning. 

Cal barely notices. After dropping Juliette off that night, she comes home and locks herself in her bedroom. She barely eats or sleeps, lying on one side and facing her window through interminable nights and unbearable days. 

She feels pathetic. There is no rational reason she should be this miserable, at least not according to the Guild. The severing was allegedly performed correctly. 

She shouldn’t be spending all her time alternating between forcing herself to keep breathing, and pushing away thoughts of Jules in the space between each breath. 

Her eyes are glassy and dry, the result of days of crying, leaking out fat, wet droplets against her own volition, not in control of her boy or her mind. She had started as soon as she got back in the SUV after dropping Jules off, and hadn’t stopped, really, until her body had run out of tears. 

Jack and Apollo had gotten back from their hunt that night, and Jack noticed immediately that something was amiss, but before he could truly express his full anger about Juliette’s absence, his cell phone rang. 

Talia gave him one sharp look as he went to answer it, and started packing up her go-bag. 

They were out the door less than twenty minutes later, making their way to the Academy to testify everything they knew about Legacies. 

“Apollo’s in charge,” Jack had said forcefully, looking at Calliope. 

She shrugged. Apollo didn’t look at her. They waited until the door slammed behind their parents before they went in completely separate directions, Calliope to her bedroom and Apollo down to the basement. 

Calliope hasn’t been to the basement since she broke Jules out. 

She hasn’t been anywhere, really, besides her bed. She goes to the bathroom, picks up food from the tray outside her bedroom where Apollo leaves it after one sharp rap at her closed door, and tries to clear her mind. 

But, right now, she’s the only one home, and the knocking downstairs is insistent, so she forces herself out of bed, her empty stomach growling. 

Oh, she thinks, passing a sad looking grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup sitting directly in front of her door. I must have missed the knock.

There is a renewed vigor to the rapping downstairs. 

She throws a disgruntled look at the door. Wish I missed that knocking.

Cal makes her way downstairs. Apollo has left TV on, tuned to the news — the local authorities are worried about water-based monsters going after young men in Savannah. There have been a slew of bodies found over the past week, and no one is any closer to finding what type of creature could rip out hearts and livers and tongues. 

Cal notices, off-handedly, how pale all of the corpses look as they’re fished out of the water. Like something took all of their blood.

She avoids the word vampire. It makes her chest hurt. She practices the breathing exercises she’s been working on in order to make the knot building in her chest recede a little bit. It almost begins to help. 

Calliope peers out the side window before she opens the front door and is confused at the face on the other side. 

Ben Wheeler is full of nervous energy, hands trembling, and is pacing back and forth as Calliope fumbles with the locks on the front door. 

“Hey, can I come in?” Ben asks quickly. He shakes his hands to expel some of the energy, then tucks them into his armpits. 

“I thought you were moving to your dad’s house,” Cal says stupidly. 

Ben pushes past her, into the house, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, nice to see you too, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” 

“Oh,” Cal tries to reset her brain. “Yeah, no, it’s just you seemed pretty convinced you were going to go?” 

“That was before the cops locked down all traffic in and out of the city,” Ben sighs, looking nervously out the window. He’s breathing heavily, as if he ran here, but Calliope can see his car parked outside. 

She asks, cautiously, “Are…you okay?” 

“No, girl, do I look okay?” Ben is loud and dramatic when he’s upset, Cal notes. She also senses a sort of trap in his question. 

“You look, uh, good though?” she hazards. It doesn’t seem to soothe him, but at least he doesn’t get more upset. 

Ben runs his hands over his hair. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I know we don’t really know each other, but I helped you bury a body, so you sort of owe me, okay?” 

“Okay,” Calliope agrees, patiently waiting for Ben to ask something wild, like why there were so many household items that could double as weapons littered in her living room, or why she looked like such a damn mess. 

“Did Juliette kill Noah Harrington?” Ben rushes out in one breath. 

“What?” Cal laughs unwittingly. “No, that was the zombie, we told you.” 

“You’re sure?” Ben presses. “It definitely wasn’t her?” 

“I’m positive. Juliette was with me the whole time. She wouldn’t have had time,” Calliope affirms. 

Ben slumps bodily against the couch, and slinks down into a seated position, his long legs straight out in front of him. Cal chooses to perch herself on the arm rest, and turns to face him. 

“Why do you ask, though?” 

She’s curious. She wants to know what could lead Ben to assume his best friend had killed his crush. 

Ben is incredulous. “Have you been watching the news?” 

“Not really,” Cal admits. “I…haven’t been feeling great this week.”

She watches Ben give her a once-over, before he agrees. “I can see that. You sort of look like a disaster.” 

“Thanks,” she mutters dryly. He moves on as if she never spoke at all. 

“The bodies they’ve been finding in the water, all of the really specific injuries? I know Noah was nowhere near the water, but he was the first out of all of the boys to die, and the way his spine was ripped out…” 

“Okay, but what about that makes you think of Juliette?” Calliope presses. 

Ben gives her a look. “What do you mean? She was here, you must have noticed how weird she was.” 

There’s a chill that runs up Calliope’s spine. “She was weird?” 

Ben huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my- dude, yeah, she was twitchy as shit when she came to my house last week, and she almost fucking mauled me.” 

Cal sits up straighter. The Jules she knows would never hurt anyone, but especially not Ben. Something must be incredibly wrong. Panic pushes at her ribcage, constricting her lungs. She tries to remember to breathe.

“I needed to make sure you weren’t protecting her about Noah, that’s all,” Ben says, and moves to get up, but Calliope reaches out to stop him. He shifts uncomfortably as Cal leans towards him, but he maintains eye contact. 

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened when you saw her,” Calliope emphasizes. “I’ll catch you up on everything I know, and we can see if there’s something going on with all of the new deaths, but first, you have to tell me exactly what makes you think she’s being weird.” 

Ben slumps back into the couch, and sighs. “She came to my house early last week, and like I said, she was twitchy. I was pissed because she didn’t text me back the entire time she was over here — dick move, by the way — and I was packing to move in with my dad. We were on my front porch and I sort of went off on her, which, like, maybe not my best idea, but she wasn’t saying anything, and I was frustrated, and she wasn’t answering any of my questions, so I just turned to go back inside, but…”

He trails off for a second, looking at Calliope meaningfully. She doesn’t understand where he’s leading, not really. It sounds like any argument the two of them have had in the short time she’s known them. She waits for Ben to continue. 

“She moved so fast. Before I knew it, she had her forearm across my neck and sort of forced me backwards until I was pinned against the wall,” Ben shudders a little. “I think her fangs were out, and her eyes…they were so unfocused. It was like she wasn't there at all.” 

Shit. Calliope didn’t know exactly what that was, but it couldn’t be good. 

And it was entirely her fault. 

If Juliette had been tipped over some edge, if Juliette was out hurting people, Calliope was the only person, really, to blame. 

Her stomach drops, and her head rushes as she stands up quickly, begins pacing around the living room. 

“Fuck,” she hisses under her breath. Calliope’s hands come up, roughly forcing her hair away from her eyes. “Shit.” 

“What?” Ben’s eyes are alert as he watches nervously. “You’re freaking me out too.” 

“Shit,” Cal looks up. “If it is Jules killing people, it’s my fault.” 

The anxiety is all consuming. Her fingertips are going numb and her lips are dry. It is taking all of her willpower not to dissolve into tears in front of Ben right now. 

“What, did you have a fight when she was staying over?” Ben rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you’re at fault for her killing people. Remember creepy dead guy? She killed him without a second thought.” 

Cal shakes her head. “Nah, she did that for us. We thought I had killed him when we put him in the back of the car, and she didn’t hurt him until he attacked you. She wouldn’t have just snapped.” 

“So what the fuck happened, Calliope?” Ben is obviously frustrated. “I’ve known Letty since we were kids, and now I feel like half of my life is a lie, so if you know something, you have to tell me.” 

Cal pauses in her pacing and faces out the window in front of her. She can see a vague outline of Ben facing her direction in the reflection, and she makes a decision. 

“Come with me,” she instructs, and sweeps out of the room. 

Ben scrambles to follow, and Cal can hear his heavy footfalls behind her as she stands at the top of the stairs, facing the basement. 

She doesn’t want to go down. She doesn’t want to have the stale scent of copper blood hit her nostrils, doesn’t want to have to think about Juliette, broken and bruised, begging her for help. 

Juliette may not be human. She may not feel things the way humans do. But she had been hurt. 

It was all Calliope’s fault, and there was nothing she could do to make it better. 

Her palms start sweating, and she tries to steady her breathing so Ben doesn’t think she’s losing her mind. 

She feels like she might be on the verge, but that might be a problem for a day when the girl she loves isn’t potentially dumping disfigured corpses into major bodies of water. 

Cal doesn’t realize Ben is behind her until he whispers, “Are we waiting for something or…” 

She almost jumps out of her skin, and places one hand over her racing heart. “No, yeah, I just…” 

She flips on the light switch at the top of the stairs. 

A glow floods the room below them, and it’s so bright that Calliope can’t quite make out any details for the first few blissful seconds. 

But it doesn’t last. Too soon, Cal can see her father’s tool bench, covered with weapons gleaming in the corner. The narrow pipe Juliette had been tied to, with her silver chains still laying out on the floor. 

The traces of Juliette’s blood, though, that Cal has been dreading, are gone. The rust colored stain that had spread under Juliette’s prone form has been cleaned away. 

It must have been Apollo. Cal reminds herself to thank her brother when she sees him next. 

“Is this like, a sex dungeon?” Ben looks confused. “Cause, uh, kinky, but I really don’t want to know.” 

“We’re hunters,” Cal turns to him and gestures broadly around the room. “We learn about monsters, we train to kill them, and then we move to the next city.” 

Ben’s snarky remark dies in his throat and his mouth falls open in the shape of a little oh. He stays silent, letting Calliope take the time she needs to tell the story right. 

“We didn’t know what we were going to find when we moved to Savannah,” she wants him to know that first and foremost. “It’s not like I showed up at your school with the intention of luring Jules- um, Juliette, into a trap.” 

Ben nods once. 

“But she was the first person to really pay attention to me, even early on. I…I liked her. So if I watched her a little more closely, I could pretend it was me being aware of my surroundings. When really, I just wanted to know her.” 

She turns around, pulls out a chair for Ben and sits down on the edge of the bench press. 

“I didn’t know what she was, but I started suspecting something was different when she invited me to Noah’s party. Did she tell you what happened in the pantry?” Cal looks to Ben, who shakes his head quickly. 

“Not really, that you two vibed I guess,” he answers. Cal let out a bitter laugh. 

“I staked her and left her bleeding on the floor after she bit me,” she tells him. 

“Wait, nothing else happened? There was no making out?” Ben looks offended and Cal feels her face get warm. 

“No- I mean, obviously we- look, stuff did happen, but it ended with a stake in her chest, and me running home. I didn’t even know what happened to Ashley until I got to school the next day and everyone was talking about it.” 

“But obviously you and Letty figured things out, no?” 

“We did,” Cal allows. “I don’t know if it was all us or if it was this link that happens when a Legacy vampire bites you, but we were good, even though our families basically launched into a war. I don’t know everything that happened, but something happened at a raid that we launched, and two of our closest family friends were killed, something was going down with Juliette’s dad. And then, the night you warned us that the M.A.A.Ms were looking for me, I tried to call my oldest brother Theo, and he had been stabbed in a bathroom.”

Ben is expressive and the horrified expression that spreads across his face is almost funny if it wasn’t so damn tragic. Cal forges on. If she loses her momentum now, she’ll lose her nerve entirely. 

“He bled out in that bathroom, and Jules told me and my other brother, Apollo, that we could go home and tell our parents. She said she would clean up. So we went. And when we got home, Theo was sitting at the dinner table, like nothing had even happened.” 

Cal takes a deep breath. The home stretch, now. 

“She turned him into a vampire. My dad knew the Guild would never let us leave Savannah with more monsters in it than when we started, so he had Theo tied up and was going to figure out a way to end it. We still don’t know exactly how to kill Legacies, you know? Regular vamps get a stake and they turn to ash, but Legacies are different. My dad was going to try to figure it out.” Cal feels sick as she recounts the story. “But before he could, my mom took Theo somewhere.” 

It doesn’t sound as heroic as being a hunter usually does. “My dad needed another vamp to try things out on, so he asked me to lure Juliette out of her house.” 

Ben shakes his head slightly, whispers, “So, she…” 

“She was tied up there,” Cal points to the pole with her head. “Everything silver on this table, my dad tried on her.” 

“The whole time…she was here?” Ben asked. Cal just nods. She watches the guilt settle in on Ben’s face, all of his previous anger and rage being overtaken. 

“I yelled at her,” Ben is muted as he processes everything. “I was upset that she chose you over me. And the whole time she was being, what, tortured?!”

Calliope shrugs helplessly. “Interrogated, my dad said.” 

“Jesus,” and Ben looks well and truly disgusted. “Who are you people?” 

Calliope gives another little shrug and directs her gaze to the floor. The disdain Ben is sending her way feels deserved, doesn’t feel like punishment enough. 

“So basically, you locked my best friend in a basement and brutalized her for weeks, and now she’s snapped.”

“What, now she’s your best friend?” Cal challenges. “Just before I told you all of this, you were convinced she was going around and killing people!” 

“She still could be!” Ben pushes back. “But now I sort of get it! She’s traumatized!”

There’s no rebuttal, and Cal doesn’t even want to have this conversation. Ben is right; Juliette is never going to be the same. 

Calliope knew that, logically, but Ben’s right about another thing too. Cal can hardly blame Juliette if something about the torture unlocked a side of herself that she couldn’t shove away anymore. 

There is a stillness, then, filling the basement. Ben looks like he’s trying to stop himself from yelling at Calliope, and she’s not planning on saying another word unless Ben asks her a question. She has no defense, really. 

Eventually, Ben does speak. 

“Does it make sense for it to be Juliette, though?” Ben asks, trying to rationalize everything. “Like, why would she be killing random men and dumping their bodies? Why would she have popped that guy’s dick like that? I don’t know.”

“Who else would it be?” Cal replies, desperate. She hopes Ben has a good answer. She wants, so badly, to be able to blame this on anyone but Jules. 

Ben shrugs a little. “Bunny thinks it’s some water spirit we don’t know about? Or some young vampire, someone turned recently rather than someone who was born into all this.” 

“Fuck,” and Cal can’t control her laugh before it devolves into tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. “I know one of those too.” 

“Shit,” Ben swears quietly and shakes his head. “Your brother.” 

“Yeah,” Cal swipes at her leaking eyes. “I haven’t seen him since the night he turned. Maybe it is him. Maybe that’s my fault too.” 

Ben shakes his head. “How could that be your fault?” 

“Jules thought she was helping,” she says, through tears that are steadily making their way down her face. Cal gives up on trying to push them away. “She only ever wanted to help.” 

Ben looks sympathetic but unsure, like he doesn’t know how to help. He moves to pat Cal awkwardly on the shoulder and she flinches away slightly. He frowns, but Cal shakes her head ever so slightly. 

“It’s fine,” she tells him decidedly, forcing a watery smile. “I’ll figure out how to fix it. It’s probably not Theo anyway, he’s smart. He’s a warrior. He trained his whole life to protect people, he’s probably not draining people all over town for the thrill of it. If he’s going along with something, it’s part of a plan, no matter how much of a vampire he’s become.” 

Her flushed face feels uncomfortably warm as she looks around the basement. “If it’s Jules, though, then it’s my fault. I did this to her, so I’ll have to fix it.” 

“But how though?” Ben looks despairing. Cal knows the feeling  —  the idea that sweet, selfless, loyal Juliette is lost into some dark place they can’t pull her back from is almost too much to bear. 

But Calliope knows she has to take it on. She made this mess. 

She has to be the one to fix things. 

“I’ll figure it out,” Calliope says. “I promise I don’t want to see her hurt anymore than you do.” 

Ben is hesitant, with good reason, but eventually nods his agreement. 

Cal sets her shoulders, already thinking. This goes beyond her duty to the Guild or her family; no matter what, she is a monster hunter, born and bred. 

She owes this to Juliette. She’s made promises and broken them, but Juliette has been steadfast throughout. 

Juliette deserves for Cal to do the same. 

After Ben leaves, Calliope retreats up to her room, exhausted. 

She hasn’t spent that much time talking to anyone in almost a month, really, and as she collapses onto her bed and rolls under the covers, she almost vows to never lift her head from her pillow again. 

But if Juliette is out there in the world, suffering, going against everything she’s ever believed in, because Calliope ruined everything, then Cal can’t.  

She has to get back out there. 

Not so long ago, the world was so clear. There were the good guys and the bad guys, and the dividing line was simply the humanity of it. The Guild taught them exactly what to look for, disturbances in the peace, the interruption of human lives, and enforced the ideal that every single monster presented a clear and present danger. 

The only way to ensure that everyone they loved stayed safe was to kill all monsters. It wasn't a difficult concept. It wasn’t hard to get buy-in. 

Jack and Theo might have had more of a personal stake, what with the murder of Theo’s mother, but it had extended to the whole family. Apollo and Cal had been raised knowing just how dangerous monsters were. 

But everything that Cal had ever learned is crashing down around her ears; the Guild feels more fragile than ever. 

If not all monsters are inherently evil, if there is goodness to be found within the most tragic of creatures, then is it not the duty of the Guild, as protectors, to defend them too? 

Juliette never even broke a mug before Calliope. She had contained her thirst, apologized for biting Calliope, showed restraint. 

She was beaten and abused for the mere fact of who she was. 

Even if Juliette is the newest monster in the news, Calliope needs to do something to help her. 

Cal needs to get to Juliette before the Guild can send someone worse. And in order to do that, she has to make the Guild trust her. 

She has to be the best monster hunter they’ve ever seen, surpass even her brothers. 

She has a heading now  — her heart is on the line. Her mind is right. Her father would be proud. 

Apollo stumbles home at two am. Cal is out of her room, waiting for him. 

The stench of alcohol is loudly wafting off of his clothes, and Cal can’t help it, she scrunches up her nose as she sees him. 

He is tiptoeing exaggeratedly, fumbling through the foyer to move towards the kitchen as she approaches him from the living room. 

She says, “Hey,” and he almost flies out of his skin, elbow catching on a side table and making everything shake. 

“Uh,” he stumbles, trying to set everything upright, before squinting blearily at her. “Hey. You’re uh, out of your room.” 

“Yep,” Cal says. 

“Cool,” Apollo doesn’t know what to do with his hands, fiddling with the corner of a picture frame. “Did you um. Eat dinner?” 

“Yeah, I had that grilled cheese and the soup, thanks.” 

“That was supposed to be lunch yesterday, Cal, let me make you something real quick. I’m about to heat up some chicken nuggets?” He starts back towards the kitchen and Calliope follows close behind. She can’t help the fond smile that makes its way shyly onto her face. 

Apollo has never really had to care for anything other than himself, but he’s a natural. She hasn’t heard him complain about anything since that night, he just threw himself headfirst into the missions that came down from the Guild and worked on maintaining his cover. 

She’s not sure if he’s actually been okay. Based on the stench coming off of his clothes right now and all of the early morning door slams, Cal is leaning towards no. 

He clatters around the kitchen in front of her and she leans against the island, just taking him in. He’s pulling out plates and baking sheets with grace, even if he’s a little unsteady on his feet. 

Apollo turns to Calliope with a smug grin as he pulls frozen chicken nuggets out of the freezer. 

“I don’t know if this is what Dad was thinking when he put me in charge, but I may have blown the whole food budget on nugs,” he grins self-satisfied. 

“Ha,” Cal laughs half-heartedly, but Apollo’s smile grows wider, like he’s proud of the fact that he got her to laugh. 

“They’re dinosaur shaped,” he adds. Cal nods, and, content, Apollo pre-heats the oven and starts lining the chicken nuggets on the baking tray. “How many you want?”

“Not a ton, I’m not starving,” Cal replies distractedly. “Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah, I’m great,” Apollo keeps his hands moving and his tone light. “Eight?”

“Okay,” Cal agrees. “You’ve been coming home really late though.” 

“And this is the first time I’ve seen you outside your room in a week,” Apollo counters. The oven beeps and he slides the tray into it, before turning around to face Calliope, leaning against the counter. 

His face is more serious than she expected, but his eyes are still dull. 

“That’s fair,” Cal is quiet. She hesitates, doesn’t want to go too far, but decides to say what’s on her mind anyway. “I don’t want to lose two brothers, though.” 

Apollo freezes, with one chicken nugget frozen in his fist before he breathes hard out of his nose. He looks up and considers Calliope for a second, then closes the space between them and wraps her in a tight hug. 

“I gotchu,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Calliope is embarrassed, but tears spring to her eyes immediately. She never used to cry nearly this much. 

“I’ve got your back too, Apollo,” she promises fiercely. “Trust me.” 

“I do trust you, sis.” Apollo pulls away from the hug to look Calliope in the eyes. 

“Yeah?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Next time there’s a hunt, I’m coming with you,” she tells him definitively. 

He immediately straightens up. “Woah, wait a minute, that’s not-” 

“Let me have your back,” Calliope pleads. “I killed a zombie, I faced vampires, I can help you.” 

She knows it’s unfair to have this conversation now — Apollo is trying his best to sober up fully but he’s still disoriented. 

Cal presses her point further. “You need back-up now that Dad’s not here and Theo…just, I can help.” 

Apollo stares at her and she watches warring emotions play out on his face. He’s never been able to hide how he feels. 

“Fine,” he sighs eventually. “I have an assignment, early tomorrow out of town. We’ll go.” 

Cal claps a little excitedly, pulls him back into a hug. “Thank you!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “We have to leave in three hours, so eat your dino nuggies and go to bed.” 

“I’m rested,” Cal assures him. 

“A week in bed will do that to you,” he quips. 

But it’s something else. The promise of a fight tomorrow has her blood circulating excitedly. She needs to move, it’s in her DNA. She’s not meant to stand frozen in indecision. 

Calliope hasn’t felt conscious or in her own body for a while now. The promise of the morning, of a fair fight, sends a buzz through her system. 

They don’t get to bed at all that night, and Cal wonders just how many all-nighters Apollo has been pulling, but she doesn’t want to say anything to upset him or make him change his mind. She just pours coffee in an extra thermos and puts it in the car as they pack up. 

“Where are we heading?” Cal asks, buckling herself in the passenger seat. Apollo tosses a thin manila folder over into her lap. 

“Reports of wreckage by Skidaway Island,” he informs her. His face is drawn and tired, but he’s matter-of-fact. “Guild thinks it’s a standard werebeast, orders are to dispatch it without too much fanfare.” 

Cal examines the pictures on her lap. Something feels strange about the pattern of the destruction, about how it centers around the deepest parts of the woods and never lets anything close to the center of the forest. 

“And we’re doing this during the day?” she asks. 

“Yup,” Apollo confirms. “Broad daylight weakens the werebeasts, especially since there’s a full moon coming up. Should be relatively simple.” 

Cal hums her agreement and finishes reading the case file. They drive mostly in silence, listening to music, only exchanging a few passing words.

Still, something inside Calliope is waking up. There is an awareness of self that she feels rising in her. 

As she was sharpening her sword, and packing her sword, there was a tug in her gut. She looked across the room at the trunk that Mike and Sarah had left. Cal opened the trunk and her hand hesitated over a spear before grabbing it decisively. Better safe than sorry, and it was a good weapon, even if it doesn’t work on Legacies. She feels better having it, the staff portion useful in close combat and the point of the spear perfect for larger, more distant enemies. A perfect weapon. 

They pull up to an abandoned parking lot by a torn up trailhead and Apollo gives Calliope a grim look. 

“Locals have been warning people away from coming out here,” he grimaces. 

Cal can’t help but grin back at him and hefts her sword in one hand. She hasn’t trained in a long time, but she’s more confident than ever. “Let’s go give that beastie something to worry about.” 

Apollo smiles at her enthusiasm, then lifts the hilt of his sword to tap hers. “Burns style, baby. Let’s do it.” 

They jog lightly into the woods, making as little noise as possible, although Cal does glare pointedly at Apollo when his feet land too heavily. A lifetime of watching each other and training together means their silent communication is impeccable. 

They follow the trail into the woods until the parking lot is obscured by trees. Eventually, the established trail is interrupted and Apollo points Cal’s attention to a trail of convenience cutting through a marshy, wet area. 

It’s harder to be silent as they wade through thick mud and taller grass, but they start to see more signs of destruction — ripped up mailboxes are stacked haphazardly, and there are signposts that are sharpened, pointed at them as if to warn intruders away. 

Apollo is shooting Calliope warnings with his eyes, but she almost doesn’t need them. Her every sense is on high alert. 

They both freeze at the first sound of crunching footprints ahead of them, and they immediately crouch to the ground behind the treeline, weapons at the ready. Calliope finds her hands on her spear before she has the time to consciously choose a weapon. 

A massive, hulking beast, nose sniffing hard in the air, emerges into a little clearing. The monster is muscle-bound and at least seven feet tall, towering above the saplings in the area. Its bright red eyes stare suspiciously around the clearing. 

Apollo signals to Calliope that he’s going to try to sneak back around behind the beast and she nods to let him know she agrees. 

Only, he takes one step and treads directly on a stick. It breaks and the sound echoes like a gunshot. 

Calliope resists the urge to bury her face in her hands. 

Instead she decides to leap into action as the werebeast turns and pinpoints Apollo directly. 

“Hey, ugly! Over here!” she shouts, and Apollo sprints to the other side, sword at the ready. There will be plenty of time to make fun of him later; now they need to get the job done. 

Apollo starts shouting too, from the other side, and between the two of them, the beast has no idea who to attack first. It swipes with one massive claw towards Calliope, then turns to bare its teeth at Apollo, gnashing out a growl and foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. 

“It’s time to put you down,” Apollo calls, and apparently the insult is particularly egregious, as the monster decides to turn and bear down on Apollo. 

Apollo manages to block every downward blow from the beast’s enormous arms, leaving sizzling cuts from his silver blade and causing the creature to bellow out in pain. Calliope takes the opportunity to launch herself off the ground, using her spear as a pole vault, and sticks twin daggers in the werebeast’s shoulders, yelling out a battle cry the whole time. 

Apollo laughs giddily as the beast staggers around, Calliope riding on its shoulders, before he goes in to finish the job. 

“Look out!” he warns Cal, and she jumps aside, just as he manages to stick his sword into the monster’s beating heart. 

The werebeast falters. Its final cries die in its chest, and it staggers to the side, before falling to the ground, reaching towards Apollo and Calliope weakly, before it stops even trying.  

Apollo shouts, “Fuck yeah,” and poses with his leg up, his sword sticking out of the chest of the werebeast, who is finally still, breathing slower and slower. He grins cheekily at Cal, who smiles broadly back, until — 

“Shit, Apollo, might be more!” Cal calls, hearing a rustling noise to her left. Apollo is on guard immediately, yanking his sword from the chest of the beast, as it slowly bleeds out. He turns towards the noise, and Cal has her spear pointing at tall grass. 

A tiny furball tumbles out of the grass. Big brown eyes, floppy ears, and paws that are too big for its body all fall over each other as the new arrival looks up at Apollo and Calliope’s bared weapons warily. 

Apollo is slow to lower his sword, but the creature lets out a whimper at the sight of the felled werebeast and rushes to its side. Cal is confused, watching as the creature crawls close to the werebeast. 

“She was nesting,” Apollo realizes. His face is devastated, and Cal feels her heart fall fast. They’ve orphaned this baby. She watches as the small werebeast keens a shattered howl towards the sky, nuzzling in to its mother’s side. “She was attacking so no one got close to her pup.”

The adrenaline rush leaves her all at once. Calliope feels almost faint, and there is a faint buzzing in the back of her head indicating a slight headache approaching. She grips her weapons tighter so her hands won’t shake. 

“What do we do?” Cal is stunned. 

Apollo’s eyes are full of regret as he turns to look at her. “What can we do? Either we kill it now, or we let it grow up and the Guild will send someone to kill it later.” 

Calliope can’t tear her eyes away from the pitiful baby. “We can’t kill it, it hasn’t done anything wrong.” 

“How is it going to survive out here?” Apollo asks, but he sounds defeated. “We killed its mother.” 

“We aren’t killing it!” Cal shouts, exasperated. “We have to think of something.” 

Apollo huffs, turns away, and walks a few paces away, the point of his sword dragging in the mud. 

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “Dammit.” 

Cal can’t tear her eyes away from the pup. The dying werebeast weakly moved her arm to surround her pup in an exhausted sort of embrace, and the pup is sniffling and mewling disconsolately. 

She doesn’t mean to, but Cal catches the werebeast’s eyes just as the light leaves them. There is accusation burning out in her gaze, and Cal feels the immense pressure of her duty as a hunter hangs around her neck like a mantle. 

It feels like a burden she has accepted now. She has to make sure she sees this baby into a safe home, because otherwise…

She can’t help but think of Juliette’s mournful eyes, looking up in askance, hoping Calliope would finally step in and stop her suffering. Calliope can’t stop thinking about how badly she failed Jules. 

If she lets anything happen to this baby, that will be two innocents she has completely doomed. She won’t be able to bear it. 

“We have to think of something,” she pleads Apollo desperately. 

His hands are gripping tight in his own hair as he thinks, his sword leaned up against a tree. 

“Okay,” he says finally, looking up. “I think there might be some folks from the bar who would know what to do with a werebeast pup. Some of the more human monsters take the lower levels beasts as pets.” 

Calliope nods eagerly. “Okay, so we bring it back to Savannah with us?” 

“But not a word of this to anyone, got it?” Apollo cautions. “This breaks every rule in the book. Mom and Dad would kill us.” 

“They’re bad rules,” Calliope says furiously, but she doesn’t protest further, not wanting to change Apollo’s mind. 

Instead, she squats down to the ground and reaches out one tentative hand towards the pup. 

It gives a hearty sniff in her direction, and, obviously smelling something that scares it, buries itself closer to its dead mother’s side. 

Calliope has never had a pet, but it doesn’t take much to find the instinct. “Hey buddy,” she coos quietly. “I promise we’ll find a place for you. We’ll make sure you have people to take care of you, okay?”

It takes coaxing, and patience, and for Apollo and his bloody sword to stand far away, but eventually the pup lets Calliope close enough to pick it up. Once it is in her arms, it curls in towards Calliope’s warmth, letting out a shuddering sigh. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispers. Behind her, Apollo slugs both of their gear over his shoulders. 

They head back to the car. Calliope keeps staring down at the pup, now fast asleep in her arms, completely trusting, even though she had been involved in orphaning it. 

“Are we doing the right thing?” she asks Apollo. 

He misinterprets the question. “I don’t think the Guild would approve, but making sure this thing doesn’t grow up feral and alone is probably best case scenario, right?” 

Calliope just nods and fixes her gaze back down on the soft fur in her lap, but she’s still thinking: 

How can this be right if we’re tearing apart families? We end lives. We keep making things worse. 

Where does it end? 

How do I stop it? 

Apollo drops Calliope off at home, then peels off with the pup in the backseat, telling her that he’d be back as soon as he can exchange the pup with his contact. 

Cal climbs the stairs and puts her key into the lock, only for the door to swing open easily. 

Talia and Jack are home. 

They both must hear the door open, because it’s not much later that both of them come up to where Calliope is trying to tiptoe up the stairs with equally annoyed expressions on their faces. 

Jack gets there first, “We have a lot to discuss, Calliope-”

“ Processed nuggets, Calliope Antigone Burns? Where is your brother, I didn’t raise you two to eat like this,” Talia cuts Jack off, who looks dumbfounded. “We left a house filled with perfectly good food, and I come back to see all of the damn greens wilted, not a single fresh vegetable missing. We do not waste food in this house, I swear-” 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Calliope breaks in early, forcing an expression of contrition, knowing if she lets her mom keep going, Talia will just pick up steam. 

“You better be,” Talia grumbles, holding the bag of nuggets in one hand, little droplets of condensation falling onto the floor. 

Jack jumps in again, trying to make his point before Talia can reprimand Cal for something else inconsequential. “We need to talk about exactly what happened the night you let the Legacy out of the house, Calliope, we couldn’t answer when they asked whether it had seen anything.” 

“Um,” Cal shoots a quick look at her mom, who shakes her head minutely. “No, she was really out of it.” 

Jack shakes his head disappointedly. “I still can’t believe you did all of that. It’s a damn shame, the way you would betray everything we’ve done for you for a monster.” 

Calliope feels heat rising in her chest. It hurts, to have her father looking at her with so much disappointment and disbelief in his eyes. 

She’s always been daddy’s little girl, so any critique from him hurts twice as badly. But she can’t stay silent. 

“I didn’t betray anything,” she defends. “We weren’t getting any information from her and you weren’t going to figure out how to kill Legacies by torturing her like that. It didn’t make sense.” 

“I decide what makes sense for this family.” Jack steps forward, and it takes everything in Calliope to not move backwards, but she manages to hold firm as Jack meets her at eye level. “I’m in charge here, not you. Next time you want to mess around and make decisions, there are going to be serious consequences.” 

Calliope sees red, and she can’t control her mouth. “Consequences like what, Dad? You going to tie me up next?”

“Calliope,” Talia warns, putting a hand out. Cal knows she is going too far, but she can’t stop herself. The past month has been too much to bear and she can’t stop herself anymore. There has been too much silence for too long. 

“No, you know what? I’m glad I let her out,” Cal continues. 

Jack goes still and cold. “Watch how you speak right now.” 

Calliope chooses to not. “I don’t understand how you can be so blind about this, Dad. How can we be in the right here if we don’t at least ask some questions about why we’re doing it all? You’ve dedicated your life to this corrupt bad thing, that makes you bad too, how can you not see that?” 

Calliope talks with her hands, and they wave as she speaks, but as soon as she’s done, Jack grabs her arm and holds it up in the air. 

“Calliope,” he says, deadly still and scarily calm. His grip is tight and unrelenting, and Calliope tugs once, but he doesn’t let go. “The Guild has given us everything. And you would do well to remember exactly that. We’re safe because of the protections they put on our houses. We know how to defend ourselves because of the trainings and the weapons they provide. We have food on our table because this is the life we agreed to.” 

Calliope is uncowed. She stares him in the eyes and rips her hand away, massaging where his nails dug in. “I didn’t agree to anything.” 

“You live under my roof,” Jack is getting loud, squaring his shoulders and towering over her. “You have everything you could want. This snotty, childish complaining is disgusting.” 

Calliope feels angry tears burn in the corners of her eyes, but she refuses to cry. She glances over at her mother, and Talia has been cringing throughout the entire conversation. She reaches for Jack’s hand and locks eyes with Calliope as she finally interjects. 

“Okay, well, we need to figure out what comes next, regardless. The Guild has decided that your father and I will be Tess’s temporary guardians, just until she turns eighteen, and they want a full report and interview from you about your account of the unsanctioned ambush and hostage situation we had here, but otherwise, we are to stay put in Savannah for the time being.” 

Talia sends warning glares to Cal the entire time she’s speaking, to make sure Cal holds her tongue, and Calliope barely suppresses rolling her eyes. 

Her father is brainwashed. He’s never going to be a true Helm; he is, through and through, a Blade. He is meant to be a weapon, a tool and nothing more for the Guild, and Calliope can feel her respect for him diminishing the more she watches him stand in the corner and glower. 

She hopes he has heard her, at least a little bit, but she knows that’s asking too much. 

“We’re a family, right?” Talia asks. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Neither Cal nor Jack say a word, or even move to acknowledge it. Talia sits heavily down on the couch in the corner and mutters about stubbornness and egos, and Cal and Jack stay standing, facing one another. 

Just as tensions are rising again, Apollo bursts into the room. Talia rises from the couch where she had been sitting. The werebeast pup is still in his arms, now looking perfectly comfortable perched happily against Apollo. 

“Absolutely not, what the damn hell is that thing doing here?” Jack swears, reaching for his sword, but Apollo is panting hard. 

“You know the Legacy that mom had chained up in the basement?” 

Talia stands up, fully at attention. “Did something happen with Oliver?” 

“Not yet,” Apollo informs them gravely. “But it’s any day now. We need to get as much Guild here as we can.” 

“Wait a minute son, what exactly is going on here?” Jack asks, confused. 

“I was trying to get rid of this little guy here,” he jiggles the pup in his arms, whose tongue lolls out of its mouth happily. “And when I was talking to some guys I know from that sketchy bar downtown, they let slip that he’s been collecting low levels, the dumb and uglies, for months now, that there’s a miniature army in his backyard.” 

Cal looks around, dumbstruck. Jack’s face sets into even keel anger, but Talia has turned pale, and she’s got one hand on her heart. 

“Mom?” Cal ventures cautiously. 

“We have to move now,” Talia insists. “We can’t wait.” 

“Is everything okay?” Jack asks. No matter how tense things are between them, he always checks on her well-being first. 

“No it’s not, nor will I be until we get going,” Talia grits out. “Apollo, Jack, prep the bags. Cal, we’ll be back-”

“No,” Calliope announces. Talia’s eyebrows raise, but Cal has gotten bold — she’s had to be. And she won’t let her family go off without her on a hunt, even if she’s not sure hunting is the way to go. “I’ve met Oliver and his witch girlfriend. Maybe I can help.” 

Talia and Jack exchange quick looks. 

“Fine,” Talia bites out. “But you’re with me the whole time, alright? I want to be able to see you no matter what.” 

Cal answers quickly, before Talia can change her mind. “Deal.”

She goes up to her room to change into a fresh pair of tactical gear as her parents call for as many reinforcements as they can muster. 

Cal is conflicted. The adrenaline a hunt promises buoys her, but there is doubt intertwined with that now, an uncertainty that makes her whole world look more slanted than it should be. 

But doubt is a fuel all its own. And there’s Juliette to consider too, the killings in Savannah that no one knows how to solve. 

Cal might have some idea. And she knows exactly how to use her doubt too. If she has to question every movement and every moment to keep the people she loves safe, she will. Calliope will let it propel her. 

She’s tenacious. No matter what happens next, with a knife at her throat or a gun to the back of her neck, Calliope will go down fighting.

Chapter Text

Her skin sings at the thought of a chase. Her swollen gums ache; she has intentionally sheathed her fangs, but it’s been long enough that she hasn’t tried to mask them that it’s more sore now than it used to be. She’s out of practice hiding.

And anyway, she’s no longer in the business of denying herself. 

Juliette is learning; if she wants something, she has to take it. Deferring to other people as they make decisions that benefit themselves, always apologizing for taking up space, trying to tamp down everything that makes her strong, unique, powerful — she’s over it. If being human is hiding the most powerful parts of herself, she doesn’t want it anymore. Relying on anyone else only leads to disappointment. 

Relying on other people also leads to boredom as she’s finding during this meeting of the Legacy Council. Her announcement about Oliver’s plans to take the Emerald Malkia set off a panicked series of phone calls by her parents, and in between her evening escapades, Juliette has been invited to sit in on all of the important meetings. 

They’re at a boardroom in some large building in downtown Savannah — the heads of the other families acquiesced when Margot called them back, despite the raids last time. 

It’s probably not a good sign actually, everyone being willing to gather in Savannah again, especially considering how much Margot had prepared for pushback, but Juliette gets it. Everyone is curious why the Keeper isn’t the one calling the meeting. Everyone wants to know where the damn snake is. The politics are all very high-stakes and dramatic. 

It’s just annoying that Juliette has to be here. 

In a way, it makes sense: it is her natural role, her birthright even, as third in line to be Keeper, at least until Elinor has a family of her own. But these meetings are especially important since this brand new panic is based off of a dream Juliette had. 

She’s used to dreams that she has no control over, portals to travel between worlds, crossing space and ignoring the boundaries of time. Juliette refuses, on principle, to think about who exactly used to join her in those dreams, but she does describe the general static, the conviction in Oliver’s voice to her mother, who immediately assembled the Council. 

Both of her siblings had some extra abilities. Maybe telepathic dreams were meant to be her addition to the impressive family repertoire. 

The Fairmonts: a conniving politician, a manipulative bitch, a sociopath, what appeared to be a literal snake, and now, Juliette with her prophetic dreams. What a talented bunch. 

Juliette rested her head in her palms disinterestedly, propping her arms up on the table to make her absolute lack of interest known. The council member who was speaking stumbled over her words slightly at the obvious lack of attention from a representative of one of the oldest Legacy heritages, and Juliette felt a small tug of pleasure.

It was fun to mess with people, she was learning. All of that goody-two-shoes shit, fading into the background while Ben, the traitor, could thrive in the spotlight, was a complete waste of her time and talents. 

Especially compared to right now, where she looks over her shoulder and a human attendant is hurrying forward, offering his wrist. 

“AB negative, miss,” he beams at her, whispering so as not to disturb the rest of the room.

She raises her eyebrows, impressed, the corners of her mouth pursing slightly as she considers him. 

“You’re rare, then, aren’t you,” and she hits him with a dazzling smile. She’s been practicing on her victims from the bar, but Juliette can’t help but think of Elinor’s effortless charm as she beams up at this walking blood bank. 

“Yes, miss,” he looks absolutely thrilled, like she’s given him the most glowing compliment. He moves his wrist closer to her mouth and unfolds a napkin with one practiced motion, placing it deftly in her lap. 

Juliette loves the Canadians. They bring their free-range donors everywhere they go. It’s so smart. 

She holds onto his arm with one steadying hand before she delicately pierces the thin skin, relishing in the tight snap of her fangs breaking through. The first red flush of blood hitting her tongue is always the purest. The body is still unaware of the intrusion and hasn’t begun to throw panicked chemical warnings and electrical signal fires all over the body. 

Panic is delicious too, but there’s something pure about a willing victim. The feeling that the donor enjoys the experience, at least at the start, makes the blood taste fresher. It’s fresh spring water compared to bottled water — all of it will soothe dire thirst, but when given the choice…

Juliette drinks, not caring that she’s still supposed to be listening to whatever inane presentation the bumbling fool at the head of the table is giving. Her mother is seated across from her, poised and perfect, a completely neutral expression lining her face. Elinor is immediately at their mother’s right side, but Elinor isn’t paying attention to the presentation either.

No, Elinor is looking straight at Juliette. 

Elinor has gotten quiet lately. Juliette feels like Elinor has been watching her, examining every word and keeping track of the hours Juliette has been making lately. Ever since that night in her bedroom, Juliette has noticed Elinor’s distance. 

Whatever. Elinor isn’t a threat, not anymore. The human police still have her as a possible suspect, she failed to secure a marriage that would have positioned her to be thrust into power, and lately, Juliette has been the favorite child, doted upon. 

She’s not surprised Elinor is backing off to reevaluate. Elinor is looking for a weak point to target, something she can twist or manipulate to her own purposes and get herself back on top. Juliette has seen her play this game one too many times. Juliette is ready. 

She stares back, challenges Elinor’s gaze, and the corner of Elinor’s mouth turns up a little, a fake smile. It’s either amusement or some clever facsimile, and Juliette doesn’t want to waste too much time figuring out which. Whatever Elinor is thinking, Juliette knows she’ll have to hear about it sooner or later. 

“…and I’d like to thank you all for your attention today,” the presenter finishes. Juliette hates him on principle, with his crooked tie that ends too high and his simpering smile directed to her mother. He’s trying so hard. 

But her mother is gracious and poised. “Thank you, Marcus. That summary will be useful as we go forward with the situation in Jakarta, and I appreciate your forethought as to keeping the Council appraised. Now, unless anyone else has anything absolutely urgent that we need to discuss…?”

“Or anything mind-numbing they need to inflict on us,” Juliette mutters under her breath. She is chipping away at the varnish of the edge of the table, and it peels away under her insistent hand. The older men flanking her on either side are pretending not to watch. 

“Excellent,” Margot continues. “In that case, my daughter, Juliette, has some information I would like us to consider acting on.” 

“Hi,” Juliette grins, waving at the table. Some of the council members begin to wave back, before they catch themselves and lower their hands. 

“Basically,” she starts, loving the way everyone in the room has their eyes on her. She can’t remember why she used to shy away from the light like this. “My brother, Oliver, has a group of low-level monsters, creatures of all types, and he’s planning on unleashing them and attacking this house and capturing the Emerald Malkia for his own. Then he wants a general global overthrow of the Legacy hierarchy and Council, I think. He didn’t give me too many details.”

The silence in the room is broken by low coughs. She doesn’t look down, doesn’t look away as all of the very powerful people in the room give each other sidelong looks. 

Finally, some older woman finally speaks up. “…and how exactly do you know this?” 

“I saw him in a dream,” Juliette says cheerfully. This is the crux of convincing them, sounding like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “He told me so.” 

Juliette smiles broadly at the old man beside her and he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze, trying to inch away. 

“A dream,” another woman, a council member with a shock of silver curls in a halo around her dark skin. “And we’re hoping to launch a full scale attack based on the dream of a juvenile?” 

Margot moves to speak, but Juliette cuts in helpfully. “I have really detailed dreams. The people who are in them remember them too, so I know I’m not just making them up, and he has a witch girlfriend, so I’m sure she helped.”

“Have you done this sort of dream-walking often?” another council member asks, curiously. 

Juliette shakes her head slightly, answers truthfully. “I didn’t really know I could, but then I met my ex-girlfriend in Eden and we were about to hook up under the Tree of Knowledge, and then once in my bedroom, and she obviously remembered both times, because we did end up making out against a tree pretty intensely.”

There’s a shocked gasp that ripples through the group at her candor and Juliette is sure someone whispers “blasphemy” from somewhere to her left, but on the whole they’re neutral, faces drawn tightly. 

Elinor is staring again. Margot winces and Juliette almost feels bad for half a second before remembering that Margot didn’t notice that Juliette had vanished and was beaten to a pulp for two weeks. She decides to add fuel to the fire. 

“So anyway, I think we should probably go to his place and clean up, assuming y’all are content with your current positions and your heads are good where they are on your shoulders.” 

The room dissolves into confusion and Juliette just sits back, smile fixed on her face, and watches. The Council has no idea what to do, now that they have been asked to actually act on something.

The man sitting diagonally across from her is sternly reprimanding a woman who is in hysterical tears. The two older men beside Juliette have drifted away and are snacking on bewildered human attendants. The sniveling presenter from earlier is adjusting his tie morosely as he is caught in the crossfire of a heated conversation. 

Juliette tries to hold onto the moment. She is one of the only people not up and out of her seat and shouting. The only other two are sitting across the table. Margot has a conspicuously blank look on her face, like she doesn’t want to pass judgment, and Elinor’s absolutely enjoying the riot too. 

“She’s disrespectful!” 

“What utter bollocks!” 

“We can’t trust a child who hasn’t been consecrated!” one council member shouts. 

“We follow the Atwoods and the Emerald Malkia!” is the heated reply. 

In another corner of the room, Legacies are bickering about the nature of abilities. 

“My cousin had visions!” someone argues angrily. 

“Your cousin was fucking insane!” 

And so it proceeds. Margot rolls her shoulders to release some tension in her neck, Elinor rolls her eyes, and Juliette is back to picking at the table’s varnish, rolling the malleable material between her fingers. 

“Where is Davina!” comes a cry. 

Finally, Margot cuts through the hubbub. 

“Enough!” She commands the room, not even standing up. The Council falls quiet. “I called you here to inform you of the present danger. Whether or not Juliette is prescient, whether or not these are dreams or real communication, I know my son and this is exactly the type of thing he would do. We can absolutely neutralize a threat ourselves, but I thought it was courteous to hold a meeting in case any of you wanted to be a part of the process.” 

She pauses, looks around the table, and Juliette has to hand it to her — Margot is talented with knowing how to milk a silence. 

“As for my mother, and the Keeper of the Emerald Malkia, know that she is well. However, she has decided, for her sake and for the sake of our community, she will be stepping away from the Keeper role and passing it down the line. I have accepted this mantle.” 

Margot’s scan of the room is a challenge, and even Juliette, in the midst of her bloody nihilism, feels a shiver down her spine. 

The Council is quiet now. They watch each other warily, all eyes eventually falling to the first woman who had questioned Juliette. 

That woman eyes Juliette, unsure, and Juliette can see Elinor move back slightly in her peripheral vision. 

“The Davenports agree,” she announces, with a deferential tilt of her head. 

“Thank you Loretta,” Margot says pointedly. 

The other Council members mumble slightly, until another family adds their assent, and then it’s a rush for everyone to agree. The meeting ends after they settle on a time for the raid, the next evening, and how many members of each family will participate in the event. 

It’s planned like a dance, and a well-muscled man stands to volunteer his services as the organizer for all those planning to fight. 

Eventually, after much conversation and planning, everyone files out of the room, nodding to Margot, who keeps her seat until the end. 

It’s just Margot, Elinor, and Juliette in the room now. Margot looks down at her notes, packs up her little pad and papers, and sweeps to her feet, both daughters following her one step behind. Juliette is farther from the door, has farther to walk, and by the time she makes it, Margot is blocking the exit and examining her. 

“Incendiary,” Margot comments. Elinor is standing just behind her, quiet in the hallway. “But in the end, effective. That was good work, Juliette. You could do much for the Council.”

“Thanks, Mother,” Juliette smiles toothily, “I’m just trying to be the new Elinor, since the old one got so unbearably stiff and dull.” 

But Elinor doesn’t give her the reaction she wants, no quick comeback or cutting quip. The stony staring is unnerving, and Juliette wants it to end. She shoots another smile at her mother and pushes past Elinor without a backwards glance. 

By Lilith, what could Elinor want? Why wouldn’t she stop staring? 

It makes Juliette jumpy in a way she hates, vulnerable in a way that reminds her too much of weakness and breaking apart and tasting her own stale blood pooling in her mouth. The way Elinor is watching her makes it feel like Elinor can see the old Juliette, buried deep down. 

The old Juliette has woken up a little bit, cognizant that she is being sought out, and there are flashes of a conscience princling at the back of Juliette’s mind, but she thinks about waves of blood, and old Juliette sinks beneath the ceaseless tide, struggling, once more. 

Everyone fucking forgot her. She was buried in that pit of a basement, trapped and held down for two weeks, and no one noticed. Juliette is tired of being scared. 

She’s tired of not being good enough, or being too good at things and having to hide it, or being not monster enough to live up to everyone’s expectations. She’s so tired of trying. 

She was abandoned. She’s angry. 

The best revenge is making everyone look as she blazes high above them all, meeting her fullest potential. If they want scary, they’ll get it. If they want monster, she can be it.

Let Elinor watch. Juliette hopes Elinor enjoys the fucking show. 

Juliette sits in front of her mirror and shuffles through her pile of driver’s licenses and ID cards. She’s beginning to accumulate a sizable stack, and something small, weak, and mortal in her chest recoils, but it is easily overcome as she brushes a thumb over each picture in the corner of the cards. 

All of the people this stack represents were flawed men. None of them knew how to listen. It was better for the world that she had purged them. She’s not being immoral here — she does have rules, even if they have to be stretched every once in a while. 

Allison’s picture comes up and Juliette pauses. Allison was one such aberration, an accident, the exception that proves the rule. She was the innocent that Juliette had to experience before she could refine her process. 

Before Allison, Juliette had barely any idea of what she was doing anyway. She had never drank from someone without killing or changing them. She thinks about Theo, that boy on ecstasy, Cook. 

Actually, the only person Juliette bit without killing or changing was — 

But no. It was better not to think about it. 

It was better to focus on how Allison felt, writhing and overthrown with want, throwing her head back and panting. Juliette closes her eyes, tries to call forth the memory of the exact noises Allison made when Juliette’s fangs first found their home. 

It was a little breathy whimper, she’s sure. But not of pain. It was wanting and wild, as Allison clawed closer. 

Juliette’s trying to focus, but the face of the only living person she had bitten keeps flashing behind her eyes. It’s very inconvenient. 

It’s even more inconvenient when she hears the light ping of a pebble hitting her bedroom window. 

All her senses go on high alert as she freezes in her spot. Alarm bells are ringing and her muscles are tight, ready to move should she need to flee. Juliette has been feeding regularly; she’s sure she would be able to bat off any attackers, should she need to. 

Another pebble hits the window and she flinches hard. She swallows, looks at her closed bedroom door once, then slowly sidles up to the window to look out without being seen in return. 

Her light is on though. Whoever is down there knows there is someone home. 

Shit. What are the odds of being abducted twice the same way? 

But just as she’s preparing to do something — run or fight or curl up into a ball underneath her bed and cry just a little, she hears a familiar voice. 

“Letty? Are you up there?” Ben calls, and her nervous system relaxes involuntarily before Juliette reminds her body that she can’t trust him either. 

Juliette had trusted Cal, who promised to keep her safe, but Cal was from a family of monster hunters. Ben was her best friend for her whole life, but his mother was an anti-monster vigilante. Sometimes family was too powerful a force. 

But Juliette’s family was powerful too, she reminds herself as she takes a breath and peeks out the window. 

Ben looks smaller than she remembers for some reason, and he looks uncharacteristically unkempt, which makes her suspicious, but she slides the window up anyway. 

“Letty,” he breathes out, and she’s taken aback by the care and relief in his tone. This has to be a trap. 

She doesn’t respond, just waits long enough for his wide smile to begin to droop down in the corners. 

“Can I…” he gestures to her trellis. She doesn’t know if she wants him to climb up, be in her room. He notices her hesitation and moves to correct immediately. 

“Or you could come down!” he tacks on, hands held up defensively. “Either way.” 

She lets out a huff. As if she would make that mistake again. But clever of him to frame it in a way that made it her idea. It was a good tactic, so she would have no one to blame but herself if she got hurt. 

Not this time. 

“Go away,” she growled out, her voice abnormally hoarse. Juliette frowned at the ball of emotion in her throat, annoyed that her stupid practiced humanity was coming out when she least needed it. She sniffed roughly and moved to leave the window, but Ben’s voice was clear and strong when he spoke. 

“I know what happened to you.” 

Juliette freezes in her tracks. How could he? Who would have told him? 

“And I’m so, so sorry, Letty.” Ben’s voice is earnest, honest. And she can tell, he does know.

Shit. She leans back out the window and makes eye contact with him, before giving a tiny nod and retreating again. 

It takes only seconds for Ben to scale the wall — the boy has long legs — but it’s long enough for Juliette to scurry to the other side of the bed, putting protective space between the two of them. 

When Ben finally lands on the floor, limbs akimbo, too long and gangly and teenage boy to be anything approaching graceful, he offers Juliette an apologetic smile. He gets up and dusts his shirt off, and looks at her with so much softness in his big brown eyes. 

“Hey,” he says simply. Juliette has nothing to say. She just watches him. 

He isn’t fidgeting. Now that he’s inside, he doesn’t look as uneasy as he did while he was outside. It makes her uncomfortable, both ways. She doesn’t know if she can trust him. 

“I…owe you an apology,” Ben looks down. He’s never been very good at apologizing, and the two of them had their own system for when someone’s feelings were hurt. Somehow, though, Admit and Forget didn’t feel like it was big enough for this moment though. 

“For what?” and Juliette’s voice is still hoarse, forcing out her throat, but at least it doesn’t break halfway through her question. She needs the small victory. 

“I jumped all over you the other day, and I didn’t even give you a second to tell me what really happened,” he rushes it all out in one breath, like he wants to make sure she hears him. “It was so unfair, Letty.” 

She can’t accept his apology. It’s not okay. It might never be. He’s supposed to be the one person on her side, no matter what. 

“How are you even still here?” she asks. “Weren’t you moving out of the city?” 

Ben grimaces, like he wishes she hadn’t asked that. 

“With all of the new deaths, the lockdown has gotten even stricter, so I wouldn’t really even be able to leave…” he trails off. 

Oh. That might be a little bit her fault then. She hasn’t been watching the news, but she has overheard that the cops might have found some of her bodies. Oops. Disposal was a learning curve. 

“Oh,” she says out loud. 

“Yeah.” 

They stand, facing one another with the bed between them, in silence for longer than Juliette can ever remember it going on. 

“I found out what happened,” Ben says again, finally breaking the silence. He is so quiet, so gentle. Juliette hates it. She doesn’t want this sad, still version of a Ben that pities her. She doesn’t want a Ben who knows what happened and thinks she’s broken now. 

She can’t muster up the words, and just like their last conversation, Ben moves to fill the silence, but he’s cautious now. He looks wary, like he doesn’t want to overstep, but he needs to say everything that’s on his mind. 

He takes a tentative step closer to her and Juliette’s fangs are bared without her really meaning to. He raises his hands, takes another step, and Juliette backs into a corner. 

“Stay away from me,” she hisses. “You didn’t want to listen to me before.” 

“And I was so wrong,” Ben acknowledges mournfully. Juliette hits the wall. Ben is still advancing, hands still up in the air. 

Juliette can’t move, just watches him. She doesn’t want to do this now. Ben is trying so hard to be calm and still and she just wants out. 

“I know you might not want to hear this,” and oh god, Juliette closes her eyes, blocking out Ben’s sweet, wet eyes. “But I talked to Calliope, and she’s so sorry.” 

Fuck. That rips through Juliette’s chest like a bullet. There is bile rising in her throat and she has to suppress a shudder before she can say anything. Anger buzzes under her skin, and the light in the room is too bright, Ben smells too human, like copper-tinged wanting and apology, and she isn’t hungry, but he isn’t taking no for an answer and that’s one of her only rules. 

“She can keep her fucking apologies,” Juliette manages to choke out. 

Ben shakes his head a little. “You should see her, Letty, she’s-” 

Juliette can’t hear this. “Stop it,” she croaks weakly, and her hands come up to cover her ears. Her heart is thumping in her chest and it’s uncomfortable, she’s uncomfortable in her body. It doesn’t feel right, too tight around all of the spots she bears invisible scars. Her wrists throb angrily. 

“I just want you to know-” 

“I don’t want to know!” Juliette cries. Ben takes an involuntary step back, startled by the outburst, and Juliette feels completely off-kilter, like all of the work and careful preparation she has put into her new persona have been scraped away, and her old self is left raw, unprotected, and aching. 

She tries to refocus, forcing her eyes to map out every vulnerability in Ben’s posture, and she manages to relax a little bit when she realizes how easy it would be to take him down now, scare him a little. 

But then she looks in his eyes, so focused and doleful, and it’s Ben. She could never do anything to hurt him, not really. 

So she closes her eyes, smooths down her hair, and forces herself to put the mask of easy grace back on.

“Thanks for dropping by, Ben,” she says politely, and even smiles to let him know that she’s back to normal, though judging by his reaction it might be a little scary. “But I’m fine, thanks. Feel free to run back over to your new best friend Calliope and let her know too.” 

Ben looks like he’s about to protest but she can’t hear him out anymore. Juliette raises a hand to stop him, gestures towards the window, and ushers Ben out. 

She slams the window before he has even reached the bottom. 

Juliette doesn’t lead the charge, but she’s one of the first people inside Oliver’s house. 

Ever since Ben climbed out of her window there has been fear mixed with anger roiling low in her gut and she wants to feel anything else. At least when she has been feeding, there is a distraction from the constant buzzing behind her ears she’s been trying to push away. At least when she tastes someone else’s blood, she feels their emotions instead of her own.

It isn’t that she cares particularly about Oliver’s plan, or about how it impacts the Legacy Council, or politics in general. It’s not that she is supporting her parents or securing her place as their only reliable child. Juliette still truly does not care at all about any of that. 

She picked this fight because she needs it. The rush of a struggle is the only thing that could possibly make her feel any better at all right now. 

Neither of her parents nor Elinor are here; they didn’t want to get their hands dirty. Margot had given Juliette a look when she announced her intentions to join the militia, but hadn’t expressly denied her request, so Juliette had taken that as implicit acceptance. She wants nothing more than her hands dirty, covered in blood and bile and burning stomach acid that sends pleasant tingles from her fingers down her arms. Juliette can’t wait to feel anything other than the cold clutches of anxiety that press down her nervous system with thin spider-like threads. 

Being one of the first inside guarantees that she will have plenty of opportunity to exercise her frustrations. She wants to rip and rend things apart without having to worry about morals or consequences or fucking Calliope Burns.

Which is why, of course, fate decides to deal her a punishing blow: as soon as the first line of the Legacy Council’s little faux-militia charges through the doors, they bump into a Guild battalion. 

The Guild is taken by surprise, and so are the Legacies, but neither group stalls for long. The Guild levels spears and swords and all manner of weapons, already made bloody by the myriad monster corpses that litter Oliver’s courtyard, at the vampires, and the vampires pull up short, baring their fangs. There are a few little beasties making their last stands in the corners, but for the most part, the threat has been neutralized, and by humans at that. 

The Legacy Council shouldn’t have been here at all, at the end of the day. But now, with the humans looking determined, if not extremely cagey, it seems like they won’t be able to make the graceful exits they so adore. They square themselves, ready for a fight, and settle in for someone else to make the first move.

It’s Juliette, ultimately, that breaks the stalemate that the two opposing groups are locked in. She’s sick of everyone staring warily. She needs someone to move. The woman in full armor across from her has trembling hands on an unsteady crossbow and it makes Juliette laugh. Everyone’s attention snaps over to her, and the woman — a girl, really, young enough to be her classmate — holds the crossbow more steadily at Juliette’s chest, and oh, there is anger bubbling over that she can’t hold back, there is a wave of instinct she has no control over, and Juliette is moving unbelievably fast. 

Her fangs are in the girl’s neck before anyone can blink, and the next millisecond sees the girl crumple onto the ground. 

All hell breaks loose around her. 

The rest of the Legacies spring into action, and the Guild are pressed into a hard defense, and Juliette takes one stumbling step away from the body at her feet. There is so much going on — she can’t hear the girl’s heartbeat. She can’t feel the vibrations of the girl’s breath. She didn’t mean to — 

Something collides hard with her back, and there is a Guild member latching their arms around her neck, and Juliette stops worrying about whether or not the girl is dead. She thrashes, tugs at the arms of the person around her neck, and tries, fairly unsuccessfully, to get them off. Somehow, they manage to press a piece of pure silver to her cheek, and she screams in agony as her face sizzles and steams against the metal. 

The pain forces adrenaline into her, and she manages to pull the person off of her back and slam them into the ground. She thinks she hears a loud crack when their spine makes contact with the earth, but she isn’t sure over the pandemonium around her. 

She moves away from the center of the yard, trying to regroup amidst the complete disorientation surrounding her. Everything is too hot, smells too much like blood and dust, and her eyes can’t focus on the flashes of Legacies mixed with the loud grunts of Guild, pressing ever forward. 

Oliver is nowhere to be found, his monsters are mostly long dead, or being swatted to the side carelessly, as Guild and Legacies alike focus on a more dangerous quarry. 

Juliette can’t tell which side is winning, just scans the crowd for a long, bewildered moment, until familiar braids swing into view. She watches Talia Burns sink a spear deep into the chest of one of the Legacies, knock him to the ground, and put her foot on his chest, before pulling her spear up and out. The Legacy stays down, even though Juliette sees his eyes flicker open. 

It’s a good thought. Seeing Talia in action makes Juliette flinch away too, but she refuses to be a coward. She refuses to be the type of person who only fights when they know they will win. 

She is fully prepared to rejoin the fray when the entire battlefield freezes. 

Except for the tall, well muscled figure that is dancing through the crowd, silver tipped spear in hand. 

Juliette can’t breathe. Calliope is here too. 

Calliope is the personification of grace, cutting, jabbing, sliding, tucking, making her way through the crowd, sticking close to Talia’s furious wake. But Calliope doesn’t need to hide; it is obvious, even to Juliette, that Calliope is a gifted fighter. 

She feels sick. 

Juliette goes lightheaded, faintness overtaking her and bile rising in her throat at the sight of Calliope bearing a weapon. 

There was once a time where seeing Calliope like this would have done nothing but excite her — now she can’t breathe. 

Rationally, Juliette knows there was nothing Calliope did, physically, to hurt her, but the physical pain was secondary to the exquisite emotional torture of knowing that she would have given up her whole life for Calliope without blinking an eye, and Calliope was capable of standing by and watching Juliette beg for mercy. 

It was betrayal, more than anything. It was the thought that Juliette had misunderstood, all along, just what she meant to Calliope. 

She isn’t given long to consider what to do before there are members of the Guild rushing her, and she’s back in battle mode, incapable of following Calliope with her eyes. Juliette is sure she hears Jack’s low voice at one point, and something snarls in her gut, but by the time she has disarmed and cut down the person in front of her and moved to investigate, Jack is gone. 

The Legacies who are cut down stay down, and Juliette notices most of her contingent getting warier around all of the silver blades, so she does too, dodging to avoid any contact. 

She jumps backwards to avoid getting sliced in half, and her back meets a solid, bulletproof vest. There are hands that steady her, a subconscious act of kindness, and Juliette turns to mutter thanks to whoever helped keep her upright, only to look up into the stern face of Talia Burns. 

She doesn’t hear it, her ears ringing loudly, but Juliette watches Talia’s mouth form her name and sees Talia’s brows furrow when Juliette doesn’t answer immediately. 

Juliette shakes her head to clear it, but before she can respond, there is a commotion directly behind Talia. 

“Guild bitch,” some vampire growls, raising a hand to strike Talia, and she bats him away forcefully. He stumbles back before managing to land a blow, scraping her shoulder and Talia kicks him back, following him away on the grass. They launch into heated hand-to-hand combat, evenly matched. 

And Juliette turns, following them with her eyes, and making eye contact with Calliope, who, like the rest of the night, was only one step behind her mother. 

Juliette sees Cal holding that fucking spear, between them, again. 

Juliette watches, waits, as Cal lowers the tip of the spear all the way down. The point etches its small mark in the dirt. 

And Juliette rushes forward. 

For a moment, it feels just like that night on the school roof, but with the roles reversed. Juliette is striking hard, fast, and furious, and Calliope is deflecting everything, but doing her best to not hurt Juliette back. 

Too late for that, Juliette thinks bitterly. 

But at the end of the day, they are well-matched, even if Cal isn’t trying to take her down. They dance around each other, almost choreographed, and find their way to a quieter corner of the yard, beside the big fence. 

Calliope stumbles over some exposed root, and Juliette darts forward, capitalizing on the mistake. 

She hasn’t been this close to Calliope in so long. The scent is almost intoxicating, disarming, coconut and lavender twining together to distract Juliette entirely. But Juliette won’t make that mistake now. Juliette won’t let herself think about the blanket, still spread across her bed, that held desperately onto this exact scent and brought her out of the worst, most earthshattering nightmares. 

Instead, she digs desperate fingers into Calliope’s neck, grips hard, and hopes she is not as shaky on the outside as she is on the inside. 

You’ve faced worse, she reminds herself. 

Cal just stares up at her, wide eyed. 

It is then that Juliette realizes their position. She has caught Calliope from falling on her back. Calliope’s spear is on the ground, rolled away slightly, and Calliope is off-balance completely. She has no traction, and she’s not trying to gain any. 

Juliette has to press forward. Her nails bite into skin, and she can smell little cuts open up across Calliope’s long neck. 

“I should fucking kill you,” Juliette breathes out. She didn’t mean to speak. 

But Cal hears her, tips her head back, baring her neck more, and whispers back, “Do it.” 

There are a few times in her life that Juliette will never forget. The day she met Ben is one, the night she first kissed Calliope is another. The moment she was kidnapped ranks high on that list too. 

But above all else, it is holding Calliope’s life in her hands that is seared into her memory permanently. 

Calliope tells Juliette to kill her, and Juliette just. Can’t . 

After all of this practice, all of the strength she was so proud of herself for exhibiting, all of the inhuman posturing, and it just takes two words from Calliope to break her. 

Suddenly Juliette is thinking about fragile things, like bee wings, delicate peaches, school windows, first loves, and she can’t force her mouth down. 

Her fangs are bared, because her body knows what to do, but her mind won’t cooperate. Calliope is still in Juliette’s arms, patient and waiting, and Juliette can’t be everything Cal always feared. Juliette doesn’t want to be the monster Calliope had learned about. 

Juliette wants to go back to when they could still hold each other close and pretend there was a world where they could be just Jules and Cal. 

Where they could pretend that, at their basest, they weren’t just monster and hunter. The world was still so big back then. 

The world is so small now; Juliette can’t hear anything over the obnoxious gallop of her heart and Calliope’s steady, quiet breaths. Her fangs ache and Cal’s pulse thrums easily in her exposed neck, and Juliette knows how this is supposed to end. 

No hopeful first kiss this time, no grasping hands, no stakes. Just Calliope, willing to be held and to be hurt. 

Memories overwhelm her and Juliette knows her grip tightens, but Cal doesn’t so much as whimper. Even if she had, Juliette is far away, in pantries, against trees, in bedrooms and school hallways and borrowed sports cars, and the memories flood her mind, pushing out any doubt. 

Juliette freezes. She’s trembling now, and she can feel Calliope shaking along with her. 

This can’t happen. Not now, not like this. 

Juliette lets out a low growl, shoves Calliope to the ground hard, and runs.  

Her bloodlust still demands its price, as she tears a red swathe through any Guild that dares get between her and the door. 

But now she’s only attacking people who attack her first. If she notices any patterns of morality appearing, she forces them away. 

Juliette wants badly to be a monster of myth, relentless and remorseless, but Calliope destroys her every defense, and reminds her of every reason she ever wanted to be human. 

Calliope feels like hope, of better things approaching with every new dawn. 

Juliette has a pulsing migraine. 

The two sides of her psyche are at war. There is a part of her that likes who she is now, who relishes in how easy life is without denying every creature comfort. But there is the part of herself that she has been shoving down, one that has been horrified by all of the monstrosity. 

That part has been covered in blood and silenced, but seeing Cal woke it back up with a vengeance, and it won’t stay under the tsunami of blood she has been piling over it. 

And it has a lot to tell her about what makes someone good. 

All Juliette wanted was a hunt to silence her lingering morality. She never wanted to be forced to feel. 

She’s panting where she sits on the floor beside her bed, knees tucked close to her chest. 

She isn’t supposed to feel this vulnerable, not anymore. That was the whole point of being strong. 

Being a vampire was supposed to make her unbreakable. Why did seeing Calliope make her so fragile? 

Juliette had made her way to the Wooden Stake after changing out of her blood covered clothes, and there were foolish, persistent men who approached her, but at the end of the day, the only image she could focus on was the picture of Calliope’s submission. 

Cal had bared her neck. Closed her eyes. She had put herself entirely in Juliette's hands and expected to die. 

Juliette doesn’t want to care, but she hopes that Calliope is a little grateful anyway. 

The whole time she was at the Wooden Stake, she wanted to go home, so before making any rash decisions, she had settled her tab, walked out, and made her way back. No one else had been home, so Juliette trailed up the stairs slowly, steadying herself, before collapsing onto the floor in her room and dissolving into gasping tears. 

Eventually, her breathing evens back out. The emptiness in the hollow of her chest lingers though. 

There is a soft knock at her bedroom door, and the gentleness of it startles Juliette. No one is that polite coming into her space, ever. 

“Yes?” she ventures cautiously. 

“Hi sweet little,” Elinor peeks her head around the corner. Her voice is saccharine sweet, dripping. “How was your tussle?” 

Juliette hums noncommittally. 

“Did you kill any monsters?” Elinor asks teasingly. 

“Few Guild,” Juliette mumbles. “Not a ton of monsters left.” 

“Hm,” Elinor hums thoughtfully. “I guess there were more human bodies left in the yard. It’s convenient how cleanly some monsters die, isn’t it?” 

Juliette looks up, confused. “Were you there? I…didn’t think-”

Elinor trills out a laugh. “No, no, I wouldn’t ever get involved in a mess like that! But I showed up once we got the all-clear.” 

She pauses, and pats Juliette lightly on the cheek. “I wanted to see all of the hard work my baby sister put in.” 

Juliette looks down, twists her fingers, and doesn’t respond. 

After a beat, Elinor continues. “It’s good to see you coming to terms with everything.” 

“Everything?” Juliette asks, looking up briefly. 

“Who we are,” Elinor answers simply. Her hands are moving to make a simple braid in Juliette’s hair as she perches on the side of the bed. Juliette leans in closer, resting her cheek on top of her mattress and rolling her neck so Elinor has easy access. 

“Oh,” Juliette intones. She closes her eyes. 

“I was really impressed with the castration,” Elinor tells her, a note of humor in her voice. “It was a nice touch.” 

Juliette’s eyes spring open. “Wha- how’d you know that was me?”

Elinor tugs Juliette’s hair slightly, pulling her face forward so Juliette can see the bemused expression. “You are about as subtle as a fucking car crash, babe. And all of the guys in the same place we dumped Mark?”

Juliette winced. “Yeah, that’s my bad.” 

“At least it was water this time,” Elinor continues conversationally. “It made it really easy to convince people it was some sort of water creature killing people.”

“Wait, that was you?” Juliette sat up and turned to face Elinor. 

Elinor shrugged. “Someone had to make sure no one traced things back to us, so I simply suggested that the water element might be more important.” 

Juliette is touched, truly, at the thought of Elinor looking out for her. 

“Thank you,” she says, and she means it. The exhaustion of the day is wracking her body, and she is glad that she doesn’t need the mask of strength in front of Elinor right now. 

“You needed to get it all out of your system, sweet little,” she tells Juliette, stroking one gentle thumb across Juliette’s lower lip, exposing a perfectly human looking canine. “All that repression needed to come out somehow.”

Juliette nods. 

“But be careful, sweet little. Make sure you don’t lose yourself in this entirely.” 

Juliette wants to roll her eyes at the advice — as if Elinor hadn’t fallen down a wormhole of killing herself a time or two. Instead she nods. 

“And, Elinor,” she adds, hesitant to even bring it up. “I’m…sorry for getting you interrogated.” 

Elinor waves one nonchalant hand. “Water under the bridge. I forgave you the night I found you on the stoop, out of your mind. I just wanted to see if you’d say it the next day.” 

Juliette frowns. “Mom and Dad found me. I remember them looking down at me.” 

“Mom and Dad?” Elinor trills out a little laugh. “No, honey, it was just me. You were delirious, and you had obviously just had blood, so things were healing, but I was the only one there. I’m the one who has been watching out for you, all this time. I’m on your side, peach.”  

“I was so sure…” Juliette mutters. 

Elinor shakes her head. “They weren’t even home. I wasn’t going to come to the door, but the bell kept ringing, and there was a smell I didn’t recognize, and when I finally got downstairs, you were a little lump.” 

Juliette shivers, and Elinor has what looks like real emotion in her eyes. 

“It wasn’t nice to see you like that,” she continues gently. “Even if you fucked me over.”

Juliette laughs wetly, tears sticking in her throat. 

“Yeah, well, you made it really easy to expose you,” she jokes weakly. 

Elinor grins toothily at her. “Lesson learned for next time, I guess.” 

Juliette smiles back. 

“About the girl…” Elinor trails off. Juliette feels her smile drop. 

“I still think you should have drained her when you had the chance,” Elinor sniffs. “But obviously there’s something about her that I don’t understand. Make sure you’re being smart.” 

Juliette nods, but there is nothing smart about this, and she knows it. She’s too tired to pretend to know what the right decision is, but she knows that what her body wants and what her heart knows to be true are two different things. Her whole life spreads before her like a puzzle, half finished, with her attachment to humanity on one side, and her truth as a vampire at stake. 

She just doesn’t know how to reconcile the missing pieces.

Chapter Text

The sweet sting of pain radiates down from the pretty purple bruises that ring Calliope’s neck. She is prouder of them than she probably should be. 

Cal has been showing them off like a medal of honor. She can tell that Jojo hates it, that, as the rest of the Guild limps by, they think she’s a traitor, but she honestly doesn’t care. 

Juliette should have killed her. Juliette couldn’t do it. There was never enough monster inside of Juliette to hurt the people she loves. 

It had been a risk — there had been one moment, with her bare neck between Juliette’s soft, delicate fingers, when Calliope had resigned herself to the inevitability. It felt like penance, her death at Juliette’s will. 

She had earned it. And after all, wasn’t it a special sort of heaven, to die at the hands of someone she loved so much? 

So Cal had closed her eyes, throwing her memory back to the pantry, the very first night, and thought about how simple everything had been. A pretty girl, a high school party, a new school, and kissing hungrily, never wanting the moment to end. Juliette’s fingers had clawed deeper, her nails nicking at Calliope’s skin, leaving red and raised rashes, but Calliope took a deep breath and surrounded herself with the feeling of Juliette. Calliope was at peace, in what could have been her last moments. Juliette was holding her up, and the only thing left tethering Calliope to the world. 

And then Juliette was shoving her away. 

Cal was falling to the ground, the edge of her spear slicing a thin line along her calf, gravel and rocks embedding in her palms from where she caught herself as she fell. But she was alive, swallowing shuddering gasps of air and massaging her tender neck. 

She watched Juliette stumble away, looking half-blinded by a desperation to run. 

Cal is so, so proud. 

And the thing is — she knows she has no right to be. Calliope knows that she has forfeited all her rights to feel anything about Juliette ever again, except for regret. But she can’t help it. Even in the midst of battle, Juliette has proven that she can stop herself. All is not lost; Juliette still has control. She just has to fight for it.

The mark of a monster is abject apathy. Calliope knows Juliette cannot help but feel. 

Even if she isn’t allowed, Calliope glows at the thought. 

The night at Oliver’s house will leave her with scars, thin cuts up and down her shoulders from raking Legacy nails, the tight line on her calf from her own spear tip, and the faint clawing press of Juliette’s nails in her neck, and Calliope cherishes them all. It isn’t yet retribution enough. 

That’s not to say Calliope didn’t clear out her fair share of monsters, either. She was first in on the action, keeping close to Talia but swinging her spear like she had trained her entire life. It felt good, it felt right, and most of all, she felt different, knowing how easily she could cut through bodies and turn monsters into ash. 

This fight felt right too, at least at first. The monsters assembled in Oliver’s yard were meant to cause mass destruction; they put up a fight in return, and so dispatching them was an easy task, no moral quandaries to ponder. The Guild was at her back and Calliope felt powerful, charging forward. 

Things evolved unpleasantly with the arrival of the Legacies, but even then, the moral question was never in doubt: a vampire attacked first, and the Guild was obliged to defend themselves. Cal did what was expected, what her body was built and trained and shaped to do, but then, suddenly Juliette was in front of her, and all Calliope wanted was to hold her close. 

Seeing Juliette made Calliope want to lay down her weapon and wipe the wild, bewildered look from Juliette’s face, begin to reassure her instead, wrap Juliette up tightly and promise that Cal would make sure it would all turn out all right. 

She couldn’t promise that, not anymore. She won't allow herself to make another promise she isn't certain she can keep. But she will wear her bruises like a badge, and she will keep her neck up, even as the rest of the Guild glowers over at her. 

Her father is a part of the glowering. Jack was injured by some vampire — probably not Juliette, Cal reasons, but who would blame her — and is laid up in bed with his leg wrapped in a thick cast. Talia escaped unscathed, mostly, and Apollo has a deep cut on his back, but her family emerged from the battle mostly uninjured. 

Calliope doesn’t want to blow things out of proportion, but she feels like it all must come down, somehow, to Juliette. 

It can’t be a coincidence. Juliette must have warned people, must have told them to be conscious and keep away from the Burns family, must have detailed the depth of her injuries such that the rest of her vampire squadron knew who to target and how badly to make them hurt. 

But something in Cal burns with the certainty that Juliette must be the reason all of her family survived.

And there must have been a reason it was Calliope Juliette had gotten caught up with. 

Cal settles in on the stairs, head leaning against the railing, and tries to puzzle out some deeper meaning. There is a debrief happening somewhere in front of her, low murmuring as the leader of the battalion that went out on the raid names all of the Guild’s losses from the fight. They lost eight good soldiers. 

Calliope feels for their families, for the kids she has grown up knowing, from communal Guild training sessions to summer camps to picnics every summer. It’s heartbreaking that these families will never again be whole, Cal knows. 

But at the same time, she feels an unsteady dissonance thrumming through her veins. 

She almost…doesn’t care. 

It’s awful, and she recognizes it. But the men and women who lost their lives against the vampire raid were some of the Guild's most unrelenting killers. They were seasoned fighters, with decades of hunting under their belts, ceaselessly moving from city to city and wiping them clean. Calliope has heard the way each of them bragged about setting fires to selkie pelts so that the creatures were trapped in the human world, with no recourse to escape back to their natural habitat in the sea, and hunted down on their clumsy, new legs. Calliope has heard all eight talk about trapping ghouls in cages and waiting until they tear each other apart. She has heard stories about the myriad ways to torture every manner of beast. 

It’s horrible that these Guild soldiers have died; they served the cause well. Calliope is sorry for their families. But she is not sorry that they can’t hurt the people she cares about. 

Calliope knows, knows, she means Jules. But it’s not just that. She thinks about the werepup Apollo had locked in his bedroom before joining the raid, and shudders as she remembers the gut-wrenching cry of pain that pup had let out upon finding its mother dead. 

Calliope is done with broken families. Her own dysfunctional one is already almost too much to handle. 

It might be awful, but Calliope is determined: the things that matter to her are taking center stage, from now on, no matter what the Guild has to say about it. 

Calliope gets to decide where her loyalty lies. 

Cal doesn’t mean to, but she falls asleep on the stairs. 

She’s awoken gently, by a familiar voice and a soft hand on her shoulder. 

“Cal?” and she groggily opens her eyes. The adrenaline pumping through her system has worn off in a big way, and every muscle aches satisfyingly, but she still doesn’t want to move. 

Jojo is standing in front of her, a worried look etched into the deep lines of stress on her face. 

“Is everything okay?” Calliope croaks, wiping roughly at the line of drool leaking out of her mouth. 

“I’m afraid not,” Jojo is serious, and it is only then that Calliope notices Talia, fuming silently, standing with her arms crossed behind Jojo. 

“Mom?” Cal asks, uncertain. 

Talia shakes her head stiffly, before nodding for Jojo to continue. 

“Tell her,” Talia instructs tightly. 

“Hm,” Jojo is not pleased with the way Talia is ordering her around but acquiesces anyway. “The Guild is…concerned that the Legacy Council found us so easily at the raid yesterday, and right now the only rational reason they can conceive is the potential bond between you and one of the preeminent Legacy vampires.” 

Cal’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Theo already did a severing.”

Jojo’s face flickers at the mention of Theo, before smoothing over rapidly, all traces of emotion erased before Calliope can parse out what it might be. 

“And we don’t think it worked,” Jojo says simply. 

“What?” Calliope is dismayed. “No, but Theo was trained, he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Theseus knew what he was doing,” Jojo emphasizes the past tense, says it like Theo’s name is something bitter on her tongue, and Cal hates her just a bit more. “But there was no real Guild oversight to ensure the ritual was completed properly, despite what was reported.” 

Calliope’s stomach turns. The severing was uncomfortable. She doesn’t want to have to experience it again unless there is truly no other choice. “Mom?” 

Talia is still frowning at Jojo, but she turns to Calliope with a look of helplessness etched deep in her eyes and gives a little shrug. 

“Your father thinks it might be wise,” Talia tells Calliope. 

Of course he does. Calliope knows better. Her father just doesn’t want to get on the Guild’s bad side. He’s following orders.

“This isn’t us asking for permission,” Jojo interrupts helpfully, her voice hard. “It’s giving you the option to come willingly before we have to take extraordinary measures.” 

Calliope stands, shaking out the tiredness in her limbs, and looks over at her mother, who shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything to stop it. Apollo rounds the corner, and watches, wide-eyed, as Jojo leads Calliope down the stairs to the basement. 

Cal winces as the bright light flashes on, and her eyes flash directly over to a familiar pole. For a moment, with the flash of light leaving its negative burned into her eyelids, she thinks she can still see the seeping pool of Juliette’s blood, etched into unforgiving concrete, but she blinks, and the rust colored outline disappears. 

Jojo places a hand on Calliope’s shoulder to guide her over to the padded chair from the last time, and when Calliope shrugs her off, there are two more Guild members who appear out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows to grab her arms tightly. 

Apollo and Talia trail down the stairs too, and Cal hears Apollo make a low noise in the back of his throat, like he’s worried about her, and Talia is striding across the room, putting a firm hand on the shoulder of one of the guards. 

“There’s no need for that,” her eyes are boring into Jojo’s face and her voice is steady. Everything about her posture is screaming don’t-fuck-with-me and Cal loves her mama bear. “Calliope is perfectly capable of sitting down on her own.” 

Talia nods at Cal once, and Cal tugs her arms out of the tight grips that were holding her still. She can’t help but throw a look of annoyance, her lip curled, back at them, then settles into her seat. 

She’s anxious, but she hopes no one can tell. She does her best to sit down regally, dismissively, like nothing really mattered, despite the flutter in her stomach and the shake in her muscles. Last time, the severing was scary enough, and that was with Theo leading her through the disorientation and the dark. Now, her fear is tangible, a thing with claws, gutting her from the inside out. She doesn’t want to have to sit through this. 

Jojo nods once and the guards pull the restraints tight across Calliope’s wrists and hard against her ankles. Cal tests the limits of her shackles, lets out a small noise of discomfort and sees Talia start forward to comfort her but one look from Jojo and the two Guild guards move to block Talia from getting through. 

Cal can’t even see her mother, she can barely hear Apollo’s faint protests rise up. Her father is nowhere to be seen, probably getting his broken bones mended. It’s so different from the last time. It’s so wrong. 

No one is holding her hand or saying comforting words this time. There is no Theo, leveling her with his best I-gotchu look, hooking up an IV to himself and telling her “Big brother’s always okay” in a way that seemed like he meant it. 

She wishes so hard that he could have meant it. 

Jojo is waving around a small black box with a frown that is almost comical if Cal doesn’t consider any of the circumstances. 

“The monitor is having a hard time,” Jojo announces seriously. “The levels of monstrous activity are unusually high, especially for someone who supposedly already had a severing.” 

Jojo fixes Cal with a stern look, like she’s anticipating Calliope to recant and admit the whole severing business had been made up. Cal just stares back coolly, hoping it’s actually coming across rather than the abject fear that had started to compress her lungs. 

“Are you suggesting something?” Talia demands, shoving one of the uniformed Guild guards slightly. He steps forward and Talia backs off, and Jojo shakes her head. 

“It’s unusual, but we’ll cleanse her now,” Jojo takes in the length of Calliope, who is strapped down and unsure if she can’t feel her fingers because the restraints are too tight or because she is panicking. Dismissively, Jojo sniffs, “Calliope is tainted. But we know what to do here.” 

Calliope can’t help but flinch as Jojo leans closer to press in the sharp needle of an IV. 

It slides into her vein easily, but she winces as Jojo smooths a piece of tape into place. 

This feels like the worst sort of déjà vu. Calliope wants her mom to hold her hand. 

“Don’t worry,” Jojo smiles and Calliope hates how hollow it looks. “If there’s nothing more to sever, the ritual won’t work. You might be a little tired tomorrow.” 

“Is that a realistic possibility?” Talia has overhead, and she’s angry; Cal recognizes that voice. 

Jojo just hums slightly and doesn’t answer. Calliope can’t hear Apollo’s voice anymore. 

Jojo offers a glass up to Cal’s lips and Calliope doesn’t want to open her mouth, but Jojo is insistent, so Cal takes hesitant little sips. 

The drink — “part sedative” Theo had told her, and part something else she never actually was told — is sickly sweet and feels uncomfortably warm as it slides down her throat. She feels it travel down her esophagus, lighting a slowly warming trail through her intestines. 

The room immediately starts to warp and shift around her, and she gags around the edge of the glass before Jojo can pull it away. Even through her disorientation, Cal can tell Jojo looks disgusted. 

Good, she thinks, but then Jojo is speaking and the effort it takes to hear her is monumental. 

“I’m starting the colloidal silver to counteract any vestigial Legacy venom lingering in your bloodstream,” Jojo advises, but her words are echoey, and Calliope’s not entirely sure if she’s hearing Jojo’s voice or if the weight of the words have manifested in tangible shapes. She wants to reach out and play with them, but the cuffs on her wrists chafe when she tries to move. Her head spins. 

She tries to recenter herself by imagining the last time this happened; Theo had hooked himself to the other end of the machine, saying that his antibodies would help to speed her recovery. No one is there this time, to offer her any sort of respite. This time, any healing she is forced to do, any knitting together of her aching body, is entirely on her. The Guild doesn’t care how she feels. 

All they care about is protecting themselves. 

The silver begins to inch into her veins, and this time, without Theo’s gentle strength, it hurts. It feels like there are bars of cold metal being forced into her arm, and her unwilling blood is made to carry it through her body. Cal goes cold and she doesn’t know if she’s crying out at the stretch of her every artery. 

Her body fights back, rejecting the invasion, but the press of the IV is persistent, and Calliope knows she must be sweating. She wants to shift in order to alleviate the discomfort, but she can’t move. 

The edges of her vision blur further, and she feels weirder than last time, she is in pain and Jojo won’t look her in the eye and she wants it to stop, she can’t take it. 

Jojo is chanting something, and her expression is chilling. 

“…darkness to light, tarnished to purity, puriati studentibus . Nature abhors a vacuum. Therefore, we entreat-” 

Calliope can’t focus on the words, wants nothing more than to be writhing in her seat and she thinks she opens her mouth to scream, but she isn’t sure if anyone will ever be able to hear her again. 

She doesn’t know if her jaw actually unhinges, if there is enough air in her lungs or if the silver slurry of her blood is eroding at every human function left inside of her. She doesn’t know if she’s actually going to survive this. 

It is blissful when her world goes black. 

Cal’s not awake yet, and she knows it, but she doesn’t want to open her eyes to the memory she feels herself in.

There is cool wet grass under her shoes, she hears it as she shifts in place. The sun is not glaring down on her and the sticky heat of a Savannah day has vanished in favor of a cool night breeze. 

Her arms are bare. There are tears streaking her cheeks. 

Her heart pounds desperately in her chest, like it’s trying to escape and find someone else who will protect it. Like it knows there is someone there who wants it. 

She doesn’t want to open her eyes to this. She can’t bear to live it again. 

Cal wills herself away, praying she can skip this, but there is no telltale tug in her gut and the night she knows too well stretches out before her. 

She opens her eyes and sees Theo, hunched over and panting, clutching at Juliette’s arm like a lifeline. There are two small holes smeared with blood, and even from far away, Cal can see the way the holes fade into nothing. 

Her father and Apollo don’t speak, or if they do, Cal can’t hear it. She only knows that they have dragged Theo away, because now? There is nothing standing between her and Juliette. 

And Juliette is being unfair. 

Juliette is pleading with her eyes, already shaky, and Calliope’s chest fills with regret, pure anguish taking up permanent residence under her sternum. 

“Cal,” Juliette says it like she’s begging. 

“You did this?” Cal breathes out. “You turned my brother?” 

Juliette stammers out no, no but Calliope knows her lines by heart, and this is not one of her finest moments, but she has to follow through. She feels herself glide forward, even as Juliette falteringly asks for a moment alone.

Somewhere behind her, Cal hears Jack plant the stake firmly in the grass, but Juliette is walking forward. 

“Cal, I can explain-” 

“What, Juliette?” Cal wishes she could scream at her past self to listen. She needs to know what Jules would have said. 

Juliette pulls up short at the vitriol in Cal’s voice, and Calliope wishes she could take it back. 

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” And it is Cal’s body moving to close the space. Juliette reels backwards and Cal mourns the loss, feels her heart crack at the fear and grief in Juliette’s eyes. 

But she cannot fault her former self either, at least not in this confrontation. 

“He asked for my help,” Juliette tries to explain . “Elinor is responsible for Theo’s death. I just wanted to make things right, or as right as I could.” 

Cal shakes her head the whole time Juliette is talking, and it’s all so unbelievable. The thrumming loss of Theo still hits her, even now, weeks after. But the heartbreak on Juliette’s face is so blatant that she wonders at how her past self could be so cold, even as her mouth moves to say the practiced words. 

“As right as you could?” she spits. “Thought you were some kind of savior?” 

Juliette inhales sharply, then protests. “No! I didn’t know what I’d done, I never would’ve-” 

Cal cuts off her stilted excuse. “You turned my brother into a monster!” 

Her mouth curls unpleasantly around the last word. It was a textbook blow, meant to wound Juliette, and wound grievously. Calliope shudders at herself as Juliette recoils with tears in her eyes, her mouth forming around Cal’s name. 

“That’s what you did!” Calliope steamrolls ahead. “And you knew that’s not what he was asking you to do. So enough with always playing the innocent.” 

But she was. Juliette was so young, so naïve and innocent before this night. It was because of Calliope she had even been in the bathroom in the first place. It was to bring peace to Calliope that Juliette had stayed behind to clean up the scattered mess of Theo’s blood splattered across the floor. 

Cal watches Juliette crumple inward and she hurts. It may just be the silver under her skin, but she knows, now, what it is to burn. 

Her past self continues, merciless, angry, vengeful. “The ‘I don’t know what I am, I don’t know how this works’ bullshit. When you sank your fangs into him, you knew there was a chance you could turn him. True or false?” 

Juliette struggles to come up with words, struggles to breathe, and Cal watches. 

“Let’s go with true. You know what else is true?” There is no reprieve to be found here. No redemption. Just a girl who had been hurt, who wanted to hurt in return. “You made him the thing he was raised to hate and trained to kill. The thing that murdered his mother.” 

Her voice breaks. Tears are slipping down her face, Cal can feel them, but she doesn’t move to wipe them away. She remembers looking into Juliette’s watery eyes and feeling certain that Juliette would never know pain like this. 

Cal knows that nothing she can ever experience will ever get her close to knowing how much pain she has put Juliette through. Short of reliving everything through Juliette’s eyes, she can never know the damage she has caused. 

“That wasn’t your choice to make,” Calliope shouts at Juliette, and winces when she thinks of all of the choices she made on Juliette’s behalf. The trap, the torture, the escape. All of those days when Calliope chose to hide herself away instead of going to take the chains off. All of those early mornings when she would loosen the garotte around Juliette’s neck, but not untie it because of how afraid she was.

“No,” Juliette’s eyes are wide, asking for a little bit of faith, and Calliope knows she wasn't ready, but she wants badly to be able to change the past and take the hand that Juliette was offering. “I mean, I know that, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t bring my brother back,” Calliope is unrelenting. 

She wishes she had learned how to bend earlier. 

“I know that,” Juliette is quiet, desperate. 

Calliope considers the girl in front of her. She should forgive Juliette. She should listen. 

“So then why are you still standing here?” Cal challenges. She should have done anything but send Juliette away. 

Juliette’s eyes go wide in disbelief, and Cal feels her pulse race, as she begs, asks, demands. “Please. Leave. Now.” 

“Cal, don’t do this!” Juliette implores. “You’re going to give Elinor exactly what she wanted, what they all wanted: for us to not be together.” 

Cal remembers thinking about how unfair that comment had been. That wasn’t the point. Juliette’s priorities were wrong, and just far enough away from the heart of the matter to land on another sore spot. 

Calliope felt herself spin dramatically to shout exasperatedly back at Juliette. “Do you think I care what your family wants?”

She strides forward, and everything in her is screaming for her to stop. She’s about to break her own damn heart. 

“Let me make this as plain to you as I can: stay the hell away from me.” 

But before she can finish her sentence, Juliette is speaking up, more confidently than any other moment that night, and Calliope feels her entire body glow with shame, her heart splintering with white hot guilt. 

“I love you. And I know you love me. There is no way you can just turn your feelings off like that.” 

And Calliope has no choice. She shoves Juliette away. She shouldn’t have. But she can’t deny it without lying, and she can’t change it now. 

“I’m not telling you again.” 

They face one another and Calliope remembers trying to school her face into a grim expression in the face of Juliette’s complete and abject sorrow. 

Calliope tries desperately to wake up, doesn’t want to have to relive this next part, knows how painful it will be to remember, knows there’s no world in which she can ever forget, but her body turns anyway, and picks up the spear. 

The heft of it is awkward — it was never her weapon of choice before this moment. But she manages to keep it steady as she points it straight at Juliette’s heart. 

Juliette gasps lightly and Calliope wants to cry. Juliette looks up and her resolve is written all over her face. Calliope wants to turn away. Juliette takes a small step towards the spear tip and Calliope wants to lower her weapon. Juliette speaks and Calliope wants nothing more than to put down the spear and fold Juliette into her arms. 

“You can stake me if it’ll make you feel better. But you know I won’t die.”

Instead she is cold. 

“That’s right. You’re a very special kind of monster.”

Her skin burns. The use of the word monster makes her faint. Calliope wants to wake up. Even the silver lines burning through her veins hurts less than being forced to relive the beginning of her worst mistake. 

She lowers the spear. 

“But I will spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how to kill you and every Legacy like you.” 

Calliope cannot bear to be in her own skin. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Juliette chokes out. 

And Juliette slams the door to her car and begins to drive away. 

Calliope hopes this can be the end, that she won’t have to relive the rest of the night, because she truly doesn’t know if she can stay sane, tears streaming down her cheeks and an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest, when suddenly, the memory cuts to black— 

Calliope is face down on her bed. There is a long streak of drool smeared across her pillow. She reaches up with one hand to wipe at it and — 

She tries to reach up to wipe her face but her hand won’t move. Cal can’t lift her head. She can’t turn over or move her legs, and there is a burning pain in her left elbow where the IV had been placed. 

She begins to panic, the pillowcase being pulled into her nostrils as she inhales anxiously, suffocating her slightly. 

It takes far too long to calm herself down, and it feels like hours must have passed, but the sunlight streaming in her window is still at the same angle, so Calliope knows, logically, that it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. 

Still, there is barely concealed panic bubbling up inside her like a geyser. 

Her instincts for what to do if she’s ever captured kick in. She takes stock of her body, first and foremost. 

Everything hurts, which is unhelpful, but she focuses primarily on how it hurts — there are no sharp pains, other than the crook of her elbow, everything else just a general dull ache. She is fairly immobilized, though, paralyzed except for her eyes and breathing. 

She tries to make noise, shout for help from whoever’s around and demand answers, but her jaw is clenched tight, and any sound comes out muffled and hoarse. Her throat is too dry to be any help anyway. 

Instead of trying to call for help, she tries to settle her panic next. She closes her eyes and forces calm, measured, even breaths, inhale-hold-exhale-repeat, until she thinks she might be able to unclench her jaw. 

She thinks about her dream — memory really — and considers what Juliette was saying, having really listened this time. 

And it’s not something she can really even pretend to deny. Cal loves Juliette. And loved her even then. 

It makes the fact of her betrayal worse, but she can’t consider that without the panic boiling over again, so she leaves it for another time. 

At the exact moment she feels her mouth click open, her doorknob is turning and her bedroom door is creaking open. 

“Cal?” comes a familiar voice, accompanied by what sounds like a high pitched yip? 

She tries to furrow her brows and is pleasantly surprised when it works. 

“Mm, ‘Pollo?” she manages to choke out, wincing at the rawness of her throat. 

“Hey baby sis,” his tone is so gentle. “You okay?” 

He’s still out of sight, but she can hear him shuffling closer, with whatever he’s carrying rustling loudly. Apollo comes up next to Cal’s bed and she can see his socked feet, before she feels a heavy weight land on her back. She lets out a muffled oof.

“Shit, Daisy,” Apollo hisses. “We have to be undercover, dude, you can’t be squirming like that!” 

Cal’s confusion grows as the weight on her back…fidgets. Daisy? Who the hell was Daisy? 

She doesn’t have to wait long before she had an answer to that question. Out of nowhere, a bright pink tongue was licking delightedly all over her face, and she was grateful she had enough control over her mouth now to sputter as the tongue dipped into her nose. 

“What’s happening,” she croaks out, still unable to move. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Apollo calls, slightly nervous. Instead of removing whatever that weight was, he picked Calliope up and maneuvered her so she was sitting upright, using the headboard as support. 

The wriggling weight shifts to her lap, and Calliope angles her eyes down, only to be greeted by the brightest puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen. 

And they are eyes she recognizes. 

“Is this…the werepup from the woods?” she asks, completely confused. “And have you been calling it Daisy?” 

Apollo looks sheepish, rubbing one hand on the back of his neck. 

“Look, I didn’t have time between finding out about Oliver’s house and preparing for the raid to put her anywhere, so I just…left her in my room. And then when we came back from the raid, she was curled up and so cute in the middle of my bed, and she looked so comfortable, and I was so tired, that I just…” 

“You decided to keep her,” Calliope finishes, and feels a smile stretch across her face as the elasticity returns. 

Apollo looks down at the werepup in Cal's lap. “Man, I don’t know yet, okay? She’s just really sweet, and I’ve been doing some research. They're not actually that violent naturally, apparently.” 

“Mhmm,” Cal agrees teasingly, before a realization dawns on her. “Wait, fuck, does that mean she was here when Jojo was checking for the monster level in the house?” 

Apollo gets what Cal is insinuating immediately, his mouth dropping into a horrified little oh instantly. 

“Fuck, Cal, I’m- shit,” he stammers out. 

Jojo had tested the level of monstrosity in the house and it had come back high, so she had performed the severing. But it was high because there was an actual monster in the house. 

Cal frowns instinctively, both at the fact that Apollo had kept something else he had won in a hunt and that it had caused yet another inconvenience (or potential tragedy, depending on how she looked at it) for their family. 

But Daisy wags her tail and snuggles in tightly to Calliope’s side and Apollo looked so mournfully shameful that there was nothing for her to say. 

“I brought food,” Apollo offers meekly in place of an apology, nodding his head toward two bowls, one filled with chicken noodle soup and the other with half-melted mint chocolate chip ice cream. Daisy lifts her head up and sniffs the air at the mention of food. Cal can’t help the chuckle that escapes her. 

Her fingers begin to twitch slightly, but she can’t hold onto the spoon, and Apollo doesn’t make her say a word, just sits down on the edge of the bed and begins spoon-feeding her slowly. Daisy wriggles closer and slides under one of Calliope’s twitching hands, and sensation slowly comes back as Cal twists her fingers into soft fur. 

There was never going to be a world where she didn’t forgive them both, but she’s not going to complain about the special care Apollo and Daisy had decided to provide. 

Apollo gives Cal a brief synopsis of the series of events that had happened immediately following her severing. 

He tells her that Talia and Jack are meeting with the Guild leadership to figure out what comes next. They’ve discussed implementing patrols and formalizing a rotation, but that’s still pending much discussion. 

“They’re also going to be officially picking Tess up,” he tells her, brow raised. 

The soup goes down the wrong pipe, and Cal coughs hard. Apollo puts the bowl down, grabs a napkin, and helps Cal wipe away the leaking tears. 

“I forgot she was going to be living with us,” Cal says. “I can’t believe she narc'd the last time she was here.” 

“And that she lost her parents,” Apollo says darkly. “Poor kid has been going through it.” 

Haven’t we all? Calliope thinks, but she doesn’t want to say it. Especially not as she watches Apollo hand feed a plain noodle to the contented werepup that was rumbling out little purrs in her lap. 

At the end of her meal, Calliope has control of her whole face and most of her hands, but the rest of her body is still frustratingly still. 

“Wait, so you can’t really move at all?” Apollo asks. She understood why he looked so horrified; they were one in the same. If they couldn’t run, jump, or fight, they felt as good as worthless. 

She shakes her head, testing out the motion and relishing the fact that it happened at all. “It’s coming back slowly, but it’s not easy.” 

Apollo lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Guild’s been on some scary shit lately. You with the severing and before that, the-” 

He stops abruptly, looking over at Cal guiltily. 

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “You can say it. The torture.” 

Daisy’s ears drop dramatically, as if hearing the words makes her upset. Calliope manages to move her arm to pet across Daisy’s back, tracing patterns in her tufted pelt. 

Apollo nods. “It was hard to watch,” he admits, and Cal agrees. 

She looks down at Daisy in her lap, a physical manifestation of every mistake she’s ever made. 

Daisy should be ripping Calliope apart, growling, teeth bared in aggression, but instead she is grinning up at Calliope, tail thumping quietly as it wags. Daisy is looking up at Calliope with love, and Cal knows she doesn’t deserve the grace, but she also knows she will do what she must to keep Daisy happy. 

Cal knows Apollo feels the same, wherever he is on his own journey with the Guild. 

It makes her think about the type of hunter she has always wanted to be: forthright, first and foremost, and someone who helps. Calliope knows, now, that she can be that person, if given the chance. She also knows how easy it is to be the opposite of that, and sometimes it can feel like she’s doing the right thing. 

She misses Juliette. 

Juliette is a conundrum — in a world that Calliope has always felt sure, Juliette made her unsteady. It was dizzying, every tender press of their lips. Calliope’s head spun with every gentle look Juliette would gift to her, and every sure touch stole Calliope’s very breath from her lungs. She always knew just how dangerous Juliette was, and it had nothing to do with being a vampire. 

But the confusion that Juliette embodied was clarifying. Calliope was never as certain of her role as a protector as when she was offering her house as a haven for Juliette. 

Calliope knows what she wants to be, more than ever. And it’s someone that Juliette would be proud to love. 

She wants to help everyone — not just the humans — who need it. And Cal wants to make the world safe for all of the people who are just hoping to be. 

She thinks about Juliette pushing her away on the battlefield with a growl and a madness in her eye that felt foreign. Calliope has been very intentionally holding onto every detail of that moment. 

She wishes she could know if her Jules was okay. She hopes that the wild highs and lows she’s been feeling are her own; she hopes Juliette isn’t feeling that unstable. 

But she doesn’t know how this bond shit works, even still. Her body is coming back to itself, her sensation slowly returning, but Calliope’s heart and mind are still divided. There is nothing the Guild can do to make her whole; half of her is Juliette’s, with or without magic. 

“Do you miss her?” Apollo is studying her carefully. 

“All the time,” Calliope meets his eyes, and she’s surprised at how easy it is to be honest. 

He just nods. There’s nothing left to say, really. If he asks more questions, Calliope knows she will answer them, and at the same time, she knows he understands, especially now, after everything they’ve seen. Apollo reaches out one hand and scratches Daisy under the chin. Cal nods him closer, and he shuffles onto the side of her bed and leans in closer to pay more attention to the werepup. 

Cal watches him for a second and she can’t help but smile at the sight of her brother cooing over a werepup. 

“So…” she trails off teasingly. “We’re keeping the pup, huh?” 

Apollo shoves her lightly, and she laughs out a joking “hey, I’m healing!”. Daisy scampers closer, stepping on all of their most sensitive spots, but they can’t help but laugh as the pup licks both of their faces with one long, slobbery tongue. 

They haven’t laughed like this, so unrestrained, since before, with Theo. It feels like something Calliope shouldn’t know how to do, but the muscle memory just takes over, and she is feeling something other than deep dark misery. It’s refreshing. 

But it doesn’t last. The doorbell rings, and both Apollo and Calliope’s laughs taper off. Daisy ducks under the duvet, like she knows she’s supposed to stay out of sight. 

Apollo sighs heavily as he stands up. “Be right back. I bet it’s just one of the folks from the raid who left something on accident.” 

Cal nods, swallows heavily around the worry rising in her, and watches him leave. Daisy edges closer to her under the covers, and her body is coming back to her, because Cal can feel it.

She hears Apollo unlatch the front door with a quiet click. 

“What the fuck?!” Apollo swears loudly, the sound echoing all the way up the stairs. The person at the door is hushed, but Calliope can hear the timbre of their low voice rumbling. 

“I don’t-” Apollo sounds torn. 

“Is everything okay?” Cal calls out. She struggles to swing her legs off the side of her bed, and moves as if she is going to stand, one hand trembling on the bed frame. 

Her arm gives way before she can lift herself, and she collapses heavily, panting hard. Daisy bounds down onto the floor, and watches Calliope intently, like she is warning Cal not to move. 

Cal can hear two sets of feet approaching her bedroom. 

“Hide,” she hisses to Daisy, but the dumb pup refuses to listen, just cocks her head and stares up with a judgmental expression. 

The feet are closer. 

“Get away,” Cal whispers, pleading. Her eyes are filling with tears, both from frustration and fear. It's so unlike her to cry at something like this, but she aches all over and she can't lose anything else right now. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Daisy backs up slightly, and when Cal nods imploringly, Daisy tucks herself into a corner of Cal’s closet. Everyone important decides to hide in that damn closet. 

Cal struggles to grab for the dagger in her bedside table, not liking the silence from Apollo as the footsteps draw ever closer, and she just barely manages to lift it, her arm trembling wildly, and points it at the door the moment that it opens. 

“Hey baby sis.” 

Familiar shoulders square in her doorway. A familiar haircut gracing his head, the same deep brown eyes, with a twinkle sparkling brightly, the old standard glasses gone but not replaced. 

He’s wearing a casual t-shirt that stretches over his muscles, and jeans that look a little too tight and restrictive for what he would normally prefer but people change, so maybe preferences do too. 

He’s smiling at her, and she examines it carefully, trying to see if she can spot any hint of fangs. It’s an exercise in futility, but Cal really wishes she could look at him and see something different. 

But no. He’s the same as ever really. Solid and real and alive. 

She meets his eyes, and there is a quaver in her voice she does not try to mask. “Hi Theo.” 

Apollo enters the room a step behind Theo, and all it takes is one short whistle before Daisy is bounding out of the closet and into his arms. Cal knows she’s crying, and she thinks there is water in Apollo’s eyes too as Daisy grumbles out a soft purr, nuzzling into his chest. 

Apollo moves to stand between where Theo stands in the doorway and where Cal is trying valiantly to rise to her feet. He is holding Daisy close in one arm, but his other hand is gripping tight to the hilt of his sword. 

He's standing between her and Theo, Cal realizes. Apollo is protecting her, even now. Even from Theo. 

Theo clears his throat. “I uh. Can’t believe Dad let you get a pet.” 

It’s not funny, but Cal exchanges a glance with Apollo, and lets the laughter bubbling up in her throat escape. It sounds too loud, uncomfortable and hurried, so unlike the natural laughter she and Apollo had just shared, but it is laughter nonetheless. 

It works to cut the tension in the room, and as Calliope redirects her eyes to Theo, she sees his shoulders loosen, some of the tension seeping out. Theo’s gaze is on Apollo, so gentle that Calliope feels like she should look away. 

Her brothers have a bond that Calliope has never been allowed in on. The Burns Brothers were close in ways she couldn't fathom. They were competitive always, but also the most supportive of one another. 

Instead, she speaks up. “It’s…good to see you.” 

“I’m sorry it took this long,” Theo replies earnestly. “I didn’t…it wasn’t safe before now.” 

“But it is?” Apollo asks. “Safe, I mean.” 

Theo gives a helpless little shrug. Apollo nods, like he understands what Theo means. 

Calliope watches her brothers speak their silent private language. She’s never been privy to it, always too young to really be allowed to set off with the boys, but she’s observed from the side for long enough to know they have always been able to communicate. 

That doesn’t mean she can’t still get impatient though. Little sister privileges. 

“Why are you here?” she asks, and winces at how combative it sounds. She doesn't mean it as a confrontation, but she's startled, thrown off her game. Daisy peeks her head over Apollo’s arms to stare at Calliope. 

Theo’s smile is shy and sweet, and Cal has missed him. “Am I not allowed to see my baby sister?”

“Where have you been?” she presses. Apollo moves closer to her, and Daisy launches from his arms to where Calliope still sits on the bed. 

“I’ve been close,” Theo answers vaguely. “I needed to learn how to survive without relying on more experienced vamps to feed, which took me…a while.” 

He grimaces a little, and so does Apollo, but the thought of feeding doesn’t really gross Calliope out anymore.

It’s not stoicism or nihilism that plays a role in her lack of reaction. Vampires need to feed regularly, or they’ll snap — it’s well documented. It makes sense that Theo has been out practicing. 

"Have you been in town, though?" Cal continues to ask. 

Theo nods. "I've been keeping an eye on you. It's how I knew Mom and Dad weren't home today."

"You've been watching-" Cal starts. 

But Apollo is still wrapping his head around the vampirism of it all, and interrupts. "You had to…bite people?” 

His hesitancy reminds Calliope of her own conversation with Juliette after Cook had been drained. So much has changed since then. 

Theo nods. “It’s hard to stop once you start drinking, I won’t lie. But it’s easier with practice.”

Of course Theo has found the most disciplined manner of feeding. He was trained to be a soldier from the moment his mother died; rules and regulations make him more comfortable than anything else. 

But if he’s been biting people without killing them — 

“What about the Legacy bond?” she blurts out, unthinking. 

Theo and Apollo both look back at her, surprised. She gives them unimpressed looks and gestures to herself. “I sort of have to be curious, since I had two severings and I still don’t know if they worked.” 

Theo’s brow wrinkles. “It’s been way too long for you to still have an active link though?” He sounds perplexed. 

“Wait what?” Apollo asks. Calliope feels her face screw up in confusion. 

“What do you mean too long?”

Theo looks bashful. “Well…Oliver- uh, that is, some of the vampires I was staying with explained it through evolution, you know?” 

Calliope nods impatiently. So Theo’s been staying with Juliette's brother. That explains why her mother was so stressed about the raid — Talia thought Theo might have gotten caught up in the fighting.

But at the same time, that doesn’t matter now — what about the bond?

“Basically,” Theo continues, “Most vampires prefer to feed from a willing victim. It’s like room temperature water compared to ice cold water. You might like ice water more, but room temp water quenches your thirst better, and you can drink for longer without having to pull away. Willing victims are like room temp water. They’re easier.” 

Apollo looks queasy. 

“The bite links Legacies to their willing victims. But it’s temporary. The longer someone spends with the vampire that bit them, the more resilience they build up to Legacy venom and pheromones. It’s evolutionary, so that Legacies don’t seduce and lure the same victims too often and limit the diversity of the gene pool.” 

He begins to delve into the tastes of different blood types, that AB negative would be extinct if not for this measure because of how chocolate-y it tastes, but all Calliope hears is that she and Juliette haven’t been tied together this whole time. 

It changes everything. 

“What about me?” she interrupts Theo again. Cal feels bad for a moment, turning his triumphant homecoming into something about her, but she was practically paralyzed when she woke up in the morning, so she figures she might as well ask some questions while Theo is here.

There was a long period, during the torture, where Calliope had convinced herself that every shred of pity she ever felt was because of their bond. Eventually, even that was not enough to explain the desperation she felt to rescue Juliette. 

Theo looks sympathetic, pats her knee and the area his hand hit explodes into pins and needles, waking up at the touch. She holds back a grimace, and listens. 

“Your severings — neither of them — were strictly necessary,” Theo sounds apologetic, and Apollo’s face goes angry. “But the Guild didn’t know-” 

“Don’t say shit about the Guild,” Apollo interrupts. “They don’t care who they hurt.” 

“Apollo-” Theo goes to say. 

“No, dude, I’m sick of it!” Apollo stands suddenly. Daisy lifts her head from where she is on Cal’s lap, following Apollo with her eyes. “First it was Uncle Mike and Aunt Sarah, and suddenly Tess is an orphan, and they don’t care where she goes. Then you get yourself turned and people are saying we have to kill you. Our brother.”

Theo reaches out, but Apollo is pacing, and doesn't notice Theo’s hand. 

“Then all of that fucked up shit with Juliette, which I know was just Dad, but it sucked. We had to kill Daisy’s mom because they didn’t want to do any real research, and now, fucking look at Cal,” Apollo gesticulates with the sword he never fully let go of. 

“They do what they can,” Theo starts, placatingly. 

“No!” Apollo shouts. “How can you, of all people, say that? They want you dead, Theo. They’d make me kill you if they could.” 

Theo looks up, calm as anything. Cal feels her stomach drop. She recognizes that look. Juliette has worn it a time or two. 

“I know what I am,” Theo says. He doesn’t look defensive or mournful. “But I didn’t get a choice here. Just like we didn’t get a choice; we were born into the Guild.” 

He looks at Calliope and she feels herself nod. Apollo nods a second later, after considering. 

“Right. We’re hunters. The Guild trained us and taught us. But that doesn’t mean we have to trust them on everything. We can make our own choices about what we believe is right. You don’t want to hunt me, Apollo?” 

“Of course not,” Apollo says, offended. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Theo tells him, and Calliope is getting the worst sense of déjà vu. “So we choose that. We choose to trust each other.” 

He holds out his hand. There is a small, glinting ring in the middle, and as she watches, Calliope notices Theo’s skin sizzling slightly. 

“Is that the family ring?” she asks. “Doesn’t it burn you?” 

“I keep it in my pocket,” Theo tells them. “So every time I brush it with my hand, I’m reminded why I was given this second chance. No matter what happens between the Guild and the Legacies, we’re family, and I’m your big brother. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect you both, okay?” 

Calliope nods. Theo turns to Apollo and puts one hand on his shoulder. Apollo doesn’t flinch away. 

“Okay?” Theo asks again. 

“Okay,” Apollo says, and Cal knows he means it like an oath.

Cal thinks of promises she’s made and vows she’s broken. 

She hates that she has ever been that weak. Juliette’s eyes under the night sky, with a spear pointed at her chest flash across Calliope’s memory and she blinks hard to urge the moment away. 

Her brothers make her stronger. Maybe with their help, she can find her way back. 

Maybe she can make up for all of the hurt she caused. 

But then, Cal remembers the look in Juliette’s eyes as Juliette scrambled away from her at the raid, just the day before. So little time has passed, but so much has changed in the way Juliette sees her now. There’s fear now, and frantic distress. 

Maybe she can’t heal all that hurt. 

But she might as well try. 

Chapter Text

Juliette sinks her teeth into yet another bared neck. She is losing track of names. 

The ID is in her back pocket, a sharp rectangle of plastic she can feel when she moves her hips to block the body in front of her from moving. The alleyway is deserted tonight, and Elinor is watching the dark entryway, hissing quietly as a couple passes by arm in arm. 

Juliette presses the victim in her arms closer to the wall and the man mumbles something incoherent, woozy from blood loss. 

“Slow down,” Elinor cautions, and it takes every shred of self-restraint Juliette has left to resist the urge to rip away from the man’s throat and growl a warning at Elinor. Anger bubbles in her stomach, but she forces her mouth away, her hungry tongue peeking out to catch the trail of blood that drips from the corner of red-smeared lips. 

The man can barely keep himself upright, and Juliette’s first instinct is to finish him off. He holds himself up by grabbing hard at the brick wall, and Elinor’s face is scrunched up in disgust — Juliette doesn’t even need to look to see it, she can feel Elinor’s energy with her back turned. 

Keeping him alive feels wrong. But Elinor has taken it upon herself to temper some of Juliette’s baser instincts, and Juliette supposes she appreciates it.

The raid at Oliver’s house has cut at wounds that had not yet healed. She feels raw and exposed all over again, tied up and just waiting to be hurt. 

She can’t bear it, really. The thought of feeling weak in the face of a threat, of not being ready, or not being able to heal, just because she was on a moral high horse — 

All of her sad and sorry mistakes stare at her when she closes her eyes. They take Calliope’s shape, and she can do nothing but be taunted. 

So she doesn’t sleep. 

Instead, she shoves down the pain, forces it through the tightness in her chest, and plasters a reliable smile on her face. It had worked well enough before the raid, distracting herself with easy prey. And if Elinor is here, it is even easier to make sure nothing…distasteful occurs. 

She is learning. 

There are bags under her eyes that every new sip of willing blood cleanses, and Juliette hopes that it washes away every uneasy doubt she feels clinging to the humanity in her she hasn’t been able to scrub away. 

I have never been this strong. Juliette repeats in her head like a mantra. I have never been this sure of myself.

The Legacy Council needs to question her about her intel on the raid? She is capable and self-assured. 

Her mother rages and shouts about the blow to their political capital in the wake of the disaster that Juliette caused, yet again? Juliette embodies Elinor, and studies her nails, a bored look on her face.

She kills another girl in a dark alleyway, even though she’s trying, she really is, to stop feeding? There’s some excuse. She just needs to find it.

None of it matters. Not really. 

She is confident and surefooted and she knows her own desires. She reminds herself again and again, hoping it will sink in. 

But somehow, reality sets in anyway, despite her best efforts, and she sits on the floor of her room. Juliette stares at her fangs for hours, knees tucked up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. 

When her reflection finally blurs before her tired eyes, she stands, changes, and goes hunting again. 

Elinor told her to be careful and make sure she didn’t lose herself in “this” entirely. 

But what does “this” even really mean? Hunting? Feeding? Isn’t that what she’s meant to do? Isn’t that her whole purpose? They’re predators at the top of the food chain; survival of the fittest means she gets rid of those who serve no societal purpose, and that she gets to decide. 

Right? 

She gets to decide. She is allowed to make choices too. She is allowed to not care who gets hurt. Juliette has earned that much. 

But then again — 

The faux self-assuredness and confidence slip on and off like a costume. Juliette can’t control the shifts as reliably anymore. As long as she feeds consistently enough, it keeps the darker parts of herself sated and under control, blood-soothed. 

Screw the Legacy Council and her mother, damn them all to hell. Juliette doesn’t need their type of power, the sort of position in their society that Elinor has always craved. Juliette just wants to be able to pretend she has a little control. 

There is a part of her that feels betrayed. Oliver hasn’t said a word, not in real life and not in her dreams. Her mother had been the one to push for the Legacy Council’s involvement, and anyway it wasn’t like anyone had actually died except for some of the beasts they had been planning on gutting and a few Guild. 

Juliette hasn’t done anything wrong. She still hasn’t hurt anyone. She wanted a fight, sure, but in the end, there were people with more power and more capital who made the decisions. She was in the meetings, but she wasn’t the driving force. 

She’s just sixteen. At the end of the day, despite everything that has happened, the love and hate and hurt, she is sixteen years old. Juliette is tired. 

She wants everything to be softer on her fragile heart. She just wants to remember what safety feels like.

Her mother calls for her, and Juliette can hear how tight Margot’s voice is. She’s not in the mood for a confrontation, and even less with her mother. Juliette sure as shit doesn’t want to have to stand and listen as Margot uses that detached, clinical voice. 

There was one moment, at her consecration ceremony, where she felt like her mother finally understood her for the first time. Juliette had told Margot the truth, and Margot had listened. She had given her mother a hug, and known that in that moment, Margot understood her fully.

But now, with all of the mess surrounding the Guild, the trouble with the position of Keeper, Juliette knows her mother’s mind is miles away. 

Margot hadn’t even really ever wanted to be Keeper, at least not as far as Juliette can recall, always tossing snide remarks about Davinia and her sisters when Margot thought the children weren’t close. But this side of Margot, the side that wants nothing but control — it feels familiar. 

Her parents were of a different ilk entirely. Juliette knew this. Their priorities were different too. 

Juliette is fairly certain they don’t remember what it’s like to be hungry like she is. She is sure they can’t even remember ever having been young. 

When she walks into the kitchen, her mother is sitting at the head of the table, hair up, looking stern. She is wearing her clothes from the day, starched and white, but Sebastian, who is sitting next to her, is in striped pajamas. He has only gotten worse — his face is feeling and the green glow in his eyes never truly fades anymore. His eyes are shifty and Juliette feels a gut-wrenching sadness at the thought of how much her father has changed. 

He went from being a solid, reliable figure, her ally in their crazy family, to whatever…this was. He was scary now. And he didn’t even seem to realize it. 

How awful it must be to turn into something without even realizing it.

There is a slightly-ruffled newspaper placed perfectly askew on the table at Margot’s right hand, and Juliette knows her family well enough to realize that this is set-dressing — every aspect of the moment is finely attuned to present exactly the image that Margot wants to impress upon her daughter. 

She wants to laugh, but there is a faint buzzing in her ears. There is fury rising steadily, a frustration that feels overpowering. 

This is a planned manipulation. She is about to be coerced into something she doesn’t believe. 

Everyone looks at her and sees a pathetic little girl they can control. What does she have to do to change their minds?

“Please sit,” Margot says pleasantly, but it is no request. The order falls from her mother’s lips easily. 

Juliette does not like what power has done to her family. 

They were never the closest — the mess with Oliver was a well-kept secret, and sometimes Sebastian had to work through what were meant to be family dinners, Elinor stayed out too late, and Margot would huff an unhappy sigh, and sit down beside Juliette. Juliette would spend time with Ben and his friends, and avoid coming home to an empty house. 

But they were never like this. Never this cold.

Sebastian was always affectionate, and when he was home, he made sure to spend time with Juliette, making sure that she knew she could talk to him. Elinor was the first person Juliette could be honest with, and the girl’s night Elinor set up for the two of them made Juliette feel so important, valuable enough to just be included. And her mother would sit at the dinner table on nights when everyone else was gone, and ask Juliette questions. Margot would really listen.

Things have changed. Juliette slides out the chair and sits down. 

Margot starts, with a glance over at Sebastian, who shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Juliette watches flakes of dead and dry skin fall from his face and land on the table in front of him. 

“Your father and I wanted to have a conversation with you about what has been going on with you for the past few weeks.” Margot’s tone is measured, and it grates against Juliette’s every sensibility. She is being coddled, condescended. 

Margot looks at Sebastian expectantly, and he is confused before he seems to remember his lines. “The unfortunate circumstances with the raid have thrown the matter of your mother’s legitimacy as Keeper into question.”

“Not the fact that you ate Grandmother?” Juliette can’t help but ask, and Sebastian’s eyes flash green in anger. 

“No,” he grinds his teeth. “And they don’t need to find that out.” 

Margot places a gentle hand on Sebastian’s arm, soothing his clenched fist. 

“We think it may be better,” she is being delicate, tiptoeing towards her point, and Juliette’s ire is building. “If you were to visit our cousins in Prague.” 

There it is. Her own banishment hangs on the table between them, framed as a choice Juliette is being given, but really, a punishment for embarrassing the family. 

“You’re sending me away?” Juliette asks, disbelieving. 

Elinor went to jail after being caught killing people, and she wasn’t sent away. No one had died because of Juliette’s mistake, really. The image of all of the IDs Juliette had collected and stored under her bed flashed before her eyes, and the vision of the dead Guild bodies littering the perimeter of Oliver’s yard before she fled appeared in the forefront of her memory — but those deaths were meaningless. There was nothing the Legacy Council had lost there. Their secrets were as safe as ever. 

Still, somehow, Juliette was being punished.

“We’re not sending you away,” Margot corrected. “Just a short trip to clear your mind. It’s been a hard year, what with all of that drama with Talia and her daughter.” 

Margot trilled out a fake laugh and Juliette’s chest lurched unpleasantly. 

“Drama,” Juliette stated more than asked, doing her best to keep her face completely neutral. “Are you talking about when I was locked up in their basement for weeks? When they were trying their damndest to take me apart, piece by piece, and somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut, only for me to show up on the front steps on a night you weren’t even home.”

Margot looks tense, displeased at the way Juliette is fighting her. “We were home shortly afterwards. But really, Juliette, was it beyond the realm of possibility for us to assume that you had run off with that girl?” 

Juliette wants to scream at them, her fangs are aching to come out, and despite the fact that she shouldn’t be, there is a thirst building in her dry throat. She manages a hoarse laugh instead of leaping out of her seat, and pushes herself to her feet. 

“You could have tried to listen,” she states simply, taking a step back. 

Margot doesn’t even look remorseful, just looks exasperated. Juliette looks over at her father, so often her ally, and so completely useless in this moment, as he swallows back something around a snarl. 

Juliette doesn’t recognize these people and she doesn’t recognize herself. 

She doesn’t mean to ask, but it comes out anyway, pitiful, begging, “What will it take for you to take me seriously?” 

She is always going to be a child to them; it is as if she is not her own person but a barrier to their interests. 

“Juliette,” Margot starts. Juliette takes another step back, shakes her head. 

“No, I’m serious,” she says. There is a flushed heat in her cheeks and she is trying to swallow her fighting instinct. 

“You’re my youngest daughter,” Margot tells her, weary. Juliette is fucking weary too, tired of the same conversation over and over. “I take you as seriously as you let me. But when you threaten us with disappearing and then vanish, what are we supposed to do? When you won’t respect us, why should we want to listen to you?” 

Juliette feels tears well up in her eyes, and she sniffs, furious at her body’s betrayal. 

“It shouldn’t be conditional,” she says fiercely. 

She takes another step back, but this time Margot stands and follows. Sebastian is still seated, still obviously trying to control himself, and Juliette can’t bear to look at him anyway. 

“I was gone for weeks, Mom,” Juliette lowers her volume, but there is urgency in her words that she did not intend. “Even if you thought I was away with…her, you should have started looking. You could have listened when I first got back.”

Margot tries to let out another little laugh, but there is a devil on Juliette’s shoulder, and she can’t shut her defiant mouth. 

“You haven’t even noticed how fucking sick I’ve been since I’ve been back,” Juliette spits out the words without meaning to, and it’s too late to take them back. 

“What, the fact that you’ve been feeding regularly?” Margot’s voice drips with condescension. “Finally! Honey, you’re a vampire. That’s absolutely normal.”

Juliette laughs back mockingly and she watches Margot’s eyes narrow in irritation. “I’ve been killing people.” 

She says it plainly, just to watch Margot’s face change into something horrified. 

“But I guess you were right!” Juliette continues, injecting false cheer into her voice and walking backwards. “I let it burst out of me until I couldn’t control it.” 

“Watch yourself,” Margot warns, and she looks serious. 

“What?” Juliette laughs again, this time with more vitriol. “Watch myself with what , Mother?”

“Your tone, young lady.” 

“Are you kidding me? You’re worried about how I’m talking to you now? Not the fact that Oliver set all this up somehow, or Elinor got arrested, or that Dad ate my fucking Grandmother, no, I’m the one who needs to watch how I’m speaking?” 

Margot takes a step forward, and suddenly she’s towering over Juliette, looking, for all intents and purposes, like she could do serious damage. Juliette wants to rip her apart — an untamed heat flares up her arms. 

Juliette wants to tear her own skin off. 

She is so fucking uncomfortable. And somehow her mouth won’t stop moving, despite all of the animal warning Margot’s posture is exuding. 

“You don’t care about anything but yourself,” Juliette hurls the accusation at Margot like a silver tipped spear, aimed to kill, not wound. “But you’re a fucking failure, Mother. All of us are falling apart at the seams and it’s because you. Failed.”

And before Juliette can turn to make her dramatic exit from the room, there is a resounding crack that fills the space. 

When Juliette turns to look back at Margot, who’s hand is stuck in the air from the trajectory of the slap, she is pale and retreating. 

“What’s going on here?” 

Elinor walks in just as Juliette manages to come back to herself and bring one clammy hand up to her cheek. 

There is a fire roaring in Juliette’s chest. If she doesn’t get away from the room right now, she will never be able to leave without acting on her basest desires. 

She knows Elinor is scanning the room for an answer, but Margot has one hand on the back of a chair and is facing away from Juliette. Sebastian is stock still and hasn’t left his chair. 

Juliette looks up and takes one breath, then another. She clamps her mouth shut to stem the flow of whatever stream of consciousness is on the verge of damning her yet again. She turns silently. 

Before she can ruin anything else with her presence, Juliette makes her way to her bedroom.

Juliette has been refusing, steadfastly, to think about Calliope, intentionally turning her mind away when Cal's face floats to the forefront of her mind.

But ruining things brings Calliope to the surface more than anything else. 

There was nothing so perfectly destroyed as her relationship with Calliope. No shipwreck as devastating — Juliette has run aground, and there are holes everywhere she looks, devastation spilling out of her most vulnerable parts.

Her relationship with Calliope had been razed on every level — their familial enmity, the building trust between them destroyed by one well-meaning accident, their very natures, all had been poised perfectly to ensure the end of their relationship. 

And now she’s smaller. She’s less sure, even as she pretends to be this bold, brash thing, someone to fit into this world that feels like it’s spinning around her. 

It’s one thing to pretend in front of the Legacy Council. She doesn’t give a fuck about them; that attitude isn’t put on. But Juliette had a brief, fleeting moment of happiness, and instead of being allowed to clasp it tight between both hands, feeling the delicate wings of hope flutter in her fist, she was forced to open her hands, and watch as the hope flew away from her. 

Juliette shuts her bedroom door behind herself. This room has seen so much of her —  it’s an oasis and a prison cell in the same breath. She is her own savior, her own jailer, in equal measure. The dichotomy makes her dizzy. 

There was a time when escaping up to her bedroom made Juliette feel secure; now, sometimes, her bedroom feels like somewhere she has to go to ensure she doesn’t lose control. 

Because she’s about to. Her grip on her self-control is tenuous at best, and, at worst, feels like shattered eggshells, with the slippery pieces thwarting every attempt to pull them from the viscous egg whites. She keeps grasping, trying, reaching, but every time Juliette thinks her grip is secure, the pieces fall apart again. 

She’s falling apart.

She gasps, hands on her knees, as her fangs burst forth. There are no threats present, no fresh pulsing blood in the whole house, and yet she is the worst version of herself. Even now, even as she is alone. 

She can’t hide anymore. 

Is this what her future will look like? 

Having to walk away from conversations so she doesn’t try to kill everyone who insults her? Slowly losing her ability to differentiate friend from foe? Her instincts slowly overpowering her rational thought, her every impulse driving her forward, until she sees all humans as livestock, to feed upon?

Losing her humanity entirely? Spending the rest of her unending years only with people who are like her?

She won’t be good at loneliness. 

Juliette wonders, more and more often nowadays, if it would hurt to end it all. 

The endless eons she has been promised are a burden twice as heavy as silver chains she has already borne. 

Realistically — a world where there is no Ben to ground her, no humans to feed on, no one to look at her the way Calliope did, hold her and love her back — 

It doesn’t feel like a world Juliette wants. 

And, again, realistically — there’s no way to escape it. There is starvation, but she went almost two weeks with no blood, and she didn’t die. Juliette was cut and burned and slashed and doused in holy water, and all it did was make her burn. 

She has survived. She wishes she hadn’t. 

Juliette thinks of the future that awaits her, the one where she follows this path to the end. 

Not trusting anyone, always looking over her shoulder, eyes scanning every crowd for a threat, a feed, an easy fuck, and never feeling like she could stop to take a breath. She imagines hundreds of years, the rainforests burning down and the atmosphere evaporating with it; she thinks of humanity wasting away to stick thin, thirsting, bony things, no blood left for the creatures of the night to take their fill.

She thinks of Lilith, the start of her entire lineage. Juliette looks at herself in the mirror, eyes wet and wild with tears, fangs exposed, and imagines herself as the last. 

Her heart beats, a sore thing that barely belongs in her chest anymore. Juliette thinks of the boy whose name she doesn’t remember, and how his heart kept beating, kept trying after it was pulled from every artery in his body. 

Juliette knows her own heart would come to an easy stop in the same situation, glad for the rest. But she also knows she will keep living, despite the agony. 

There is a special kind of sadness that fills her, and she can see it in the slump of her shoulders, in the way she can’t force her lips down to cover her fangs, an old habit beaten into her by years of insecurity. This is not the world she wants.

She wants to trust. Juliette wants to crawl into bed with Ben and have him hold her, to be able to hold him in return without worrying about whether or not she can control herself. 

It hurts to even think it and have to confront Calliope’s face, but Juliette had thrown all of her trust onto Calliope without a second thought. She had placed every last centimeter of her tether in Calliope’s hands and Calliope had taken it.

Trust and control. Juliette can’t make eye contact with her reflection in the mirror. 

Calliope had trusted Juliette too — Cal had followed her to the school, back home, had trusted Juliette with her brother’s corpse. 

Juliette still doesn’t understand what Calliope kept going on and on about, choosing family over the fire they were bringing to life between them. Even now, it doesn’t make sense to Juliette, that Calliope would pick her family first. 

Juliette tries to imagine anyone in her family putting her before themselves. It barely computes. Her dad, maybe, before, but now? Not anymore, especially now, after her mother had smacked her across the face and her father had done nothing but watch. 

What was it about Calliope’s brute of a father? Her brothers, her mother, that would make Calliope give up the most intense thing Juliette had ever been a part of?

Juliette’s nails are digging into her palms hard, and she doesn’t realize until there is the trickle of blue-black blood tickling at the side of her hand. She wipes a dark smudge onto the side of her jeans impatiently, and strides over to her bed. 

There are memories with Calliope here too — it seems like Calliope has brushed her whole life; there is no part of Juliette that is not changed now that Calliope has seen her. 

There is no part of Juliette that can ever return to what she used to be. She is different now.

Juliette has loved, and killed, wounded and hunted, been tortured as penance for all her future sins, and she will never be the same because of Calliope Burns. 

Calliope burns — her name is apt. Juliette thinks of sunshine and Calliope and her mind is afire with conflicting memories and emotions. Juliette hates, hates, the idea that she has become everything Calliope thought she was at the start, just a creature who lives to spread death and pain, but Juliette doesn’t know how to stop. 

She thinks about inflicting pain, and how she isn’t sure it’s exactly what she wants to do. But if it’s either that, or get hurt herself, she has to protect her own best interests. Juliette’s not sure her sanity can withstand a torment like that again. 

Juliette doesn’t know if she means torture or first love; either way, it ended the same way. 

Her blankets come up to just under her chin, the way her parents used to tuck her in when she was still their little girl and not the empty shell of herself. Juliette closes her eyes and pretends like she feels the soft press of her mother’s kiss on her forehead, the gentle caress of her father’s hand smoothing down her hair, the feel of them lifting off of the sides of her bed in tandem, and knowing, no matter what, she was wanted in her own home. 

But tonight she does not rest easily. The sting from her mother’s handprint has faded, but the recent memory supersedes all the soft kisses, and half of Juliette’s attention, even in this relaxed state, is hyperfocused on sensing footfalls in the hallway outside of her room. 

Juliette hates that she has to think like this now, that she’s turned into a sort of caged animal without the ability to find an in-between, but her world has narrowed to things that hurt and things that don’t and she is too scared to find an alternative.

Juliette considers, for a moment, what would happen if she went out to hunt, what she might do if she catches Calliope’s scent in the wind. She closes her eyes and remembers Calliope doing the same. Juliette thinks of Calliope letting herself hang limp in Juliette’s grip, too trusting in her embrace. 

She considers how willing Cal had been to die.

And Juliette thinks, inexplicably, of the feeling that had filled her in that moment. It had cut through the haze of the bloodlust in her frenzied mind, awoken her from whatever frenetic fury had filled her. 

Juliette remembers thinking, I don’t want her dead. Not her.

Juliette does not dreamwalk by choice. 

She's not asleep by choice, but the threat of unconsciousness is a lure her wracked mind cannot resist, so she falls, defenseless.

If she had her way, she would stay put, black behind her eyes, and pitch into the dark. It calls to her, tempting, but without gravity strong enough to hold her subconscious. 

She knows the words now, but has been given no guidance, and there is a small part of Juliette — a small part — that misses her Grandmother. Davinia had been a bitch of mythic proportions, but there were things she knew. Juliette just wants someone to tell her that everything that’s happening is meant to be. 

But despite how world-weary dreamwalking makes her, despite how tired Juliette is of unplanned adventures and not knowing where she is going, despite how poorly it went the last time she dreamwalked without knowing where she was going, excitement fills her as she looks around to realize she does not recognize where she is. 

This dream is unlike the others. There are no bedrooms, no Eden, it’s none of the places she’s ever gone.

Juliette looks down at her hands and they are see-through. She has no idea where she is.

All she sees are shelves full of books, and a small table tucked in a corner. There is a small pile of books obscuring the face of the table’s only occupant, but they have short legs, not quite reaching the floor. 

But there is a feeling of familiarity at the hue of the smooth dark skin, striking under the half-light of the library. Juliette takes another glance at her invisible hands, and strides forward to peer around the books. She’s careful to not make any noise, in case her invisibility in this moment isn’t as universal as it feels. 

But young Calliope doesn’t look up or acknowledge the strange young woman who approaches her. 

And Juliette can’t help it. She studies the girl, who is tearing through a stack of literature that is far too advanced for her age — Calliope has books by Zora Neale Hurston and Audre Lorde, plays by August Wilson, essays by James Baldwin, poems by Maya Angelou. This dream Calliope can’t be more than nine years old, and still, Juliette can’t help but flash back to when she would watch Cal float around Lancaster Academy. 

It was never intentional, but Juliette’s eyes were always drawn to Cal’s face as she read, and all of the same signs are present in this younger self — there is the tell-tale scrunch of her nose when she gets to a word she doesn’t know how to pronounce, there is the flicker of surprise when she is moved by the emotion translated from the page, there is the shape of her mouth moving to trace the taste of the phrases she feels called to. 

Juliette recognizes it all. She hates how comfortable she feels, just watching calliope. A lump settles into the back of her throat and she eases herself down into a chair. She waits for something else to happen, but the moment stretches out into infinity. Juliette melts deeper into the chair. 

She doesn’t know if this is a dream, really. It doesn’t feel as fluid or mutable, but it can’t be a memory, because Juliette has never been here. She looks around, confused for a moment. 

And then Juliette sees the older version Calliope, a Cal she recognizes, sitting a few spots away, watching her younger self, looking so devastatingly sad, her big brown eyes filled with a pain that makes Juliette start forward before she can really even think about it.  

Juliette doesn’t move though; she manages to catch herself ahead of doing anything truly stupid, and it’s a good thing too, because older Calliope — not her Cal, she corrects in her head, just the Calliope that she knows — suddenly has her eyes trained on the open area near the front door of the building. 

Is she expecting someone? 

Juliette alternates between watching young Calliope read, watching her- no, older Calliope worry her lower lip anxiously, and checking to see who is about to enter the space next. 

The time is interminable and breathlessly short all at once, the liminality of the library, because it is both longer and shorter than Juliette expects to have to wait. 

The person who rounds the corner, though, makes Juliette every invisible muscle tense. A scream builds in her throat and it is a close thing, that she does not release it, but it is not for lack of wanting. 

It is weeks of conditioning. Of being punished for speaking, or looking, or falling the wrong way. 

Jack Burns, covered in green slime, is approaching his daughter. 

There is an easy smile on his face, and Juliette hates him. She hates that he had a life before he hurt her, and she hates that he loves someone that makes her tender too, and she hates that this version of him, the one in the dream, is someone who has the potential to hurt her, but hasn’t yet. 

He doesn’t feel safe. He feels like a slap in the face — he has slapped her in the face. 

But young Calliope looks so excited to see him that Juliette almost forgets to look over at older Calliope. Juliette almost misses when older Calliope’s face falls. Almost, but not quite. 

She notices the subtle downward tick of her Cal’s mouth, the slight furrow, then relaxation of the brow that Juliette wishes she didn’t have memorized. She doesn’t let herself forget, though. 

“Daddy!” young Calliope greets him with a smile, and Jack drops down to one knee to get onto her level. Calliope wraps her arms around his neck, and he laughs a little, the sound cutting straight through Juliette. She can’t stop the hard flinch that echoes through her, leaving her unsteady. 

“Hey baby, you ready? We’re heading out now,” Jack rubs Calliope’s head lightly, and even from a slight distance, Juliette can tell that Calliope has a slight pout. 

Without realizing it, Juliette has drifted across the room to stand by the older Calliope, the one who looks like her Cal, and their hands are close enough to touch. Juliette pulls away like she has been burned, because she has been burned for looking at Cal for too long.

But the pout is something Juliette recognizes too, and she can’t help but glance up at Cal’s face. 

The expression of abject unhappiness is surprising — Juliette was sure that every aspect of Calliope’s family was some happy shining thing. She doesn’t understand what this miserable look is about. 

Young Calliope speaks, her voice high but still recognizable. “Do we have to go, Daddy? Auntie Jojo says Paris is really far, and I don’t wanna leave without Tessie.” 

“Tess, Auntie Sarah, and Uncle Mike might join us soon, kiddo, but we have to get on the road now, okay?” Jack is stern, unyielding. Young Calliope’s face is even sadder. Juliette just wants to wrap the kid up in a big hug. 

“Am I ever going to get to stay somewhere long enough to make real friends, Daddy?” Young Calliope’s voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to cause trouble, but she needs to know. 

Cal, beside Juliette, makes a pained noise in the back of her throat. She stands, suddenly, and Juliette takes a step away. 

Jack grimaces. “I know it’s hard, baby. But it’s the mission, and the mission is most important.”

“Mama says family is most important,” Young Calliope says, reciting it like she’s been told to practice. 

“Family is very important,” Jack allows, inclining his head. “But the mission is what drives us forward. We’d have nothing if not for the Guild, you hear me?”

Juliette watches as the girl nods hesitantly. She hears Cal’s breath hitch in her throat. She can feel Cal’s pulse thudding, almost like she’s afraid, like she’s nervous. 

Of what? Of who? 

“Can I…” Young Calliope trails off. Her father raises his eyebrows. “May I borrow one of these books, Daddy?” 

Jack shakes his head before Calliope can even finish her sentence. “No, Calliope, how would we bring it back?”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he reassures her. “We’re going to Paris. There’s going to be plenty to read there too, okay?” 

Calliope nods, and Juliette hears Cal’s breathing go shallow. Juliette watches the young girl stack her pile neatly on the table and reach up to grab her father’s hand. 

“Good girl,” Jack delivers the praise with a proud smile. “You keep listening like that, following orders, and you’ll be a real asset to the Guild.” 

Juliette hears Cal open her mouth to speak with Jack in tandem, and Cal clenches her fists. The younger version of Calliope is just looking up at her father, wide-eyed and adoring. “The perfect soldier for the cause.”

Young Calliope just nods, while Cal, standing next to Juliette, takes a shaky step backwards. Young Calliope clings onto Jack’s hand; Juliette knows what it’s like to hold onto your father like a lifeline. 

The two walk out of the library, and her Cal seems in no mood to follow, but Juliette is curious, so she tries to keep up with Jack’s long strides and young Calliope’s skipping steps. Juliette thinks that her Cal is following slowly, unsteadily, somewhere behind her, but her senses have suddenly dulled to a far more bearable amount, so she’s not sure. 

The whole group rounds the corner, and Jack and the young girl beside him disappear through the door, but Juliette has a bad feeling, so she stops in her tracks, lets Cal walk through first, and when there is no movement around her, she steps out the door as well. 

But instead of walking out into the bright, sunny day, there is a darkness in the room they appear in, and the difference blinds Juliette. Her other senses take over, and the smell of copper pipes sends coils of hot dread into the pit of her stomach. 

They’re back in the basement. 

And Juliette knows when too. She can smell her own fear, a thick stench, blanketing the space, covering everyone and everything. She can hear her own ragged breathing. She looks to the side to see if Cal is looking, but Cal isn’t in her line of sight right now. A cold fist of terror is clenching at Juliette’s heart and it’s almost like she never left. 

She’s not in control of what’s going on in her head — maybe her body knows it’s a dream, but she wishes her fangs would make their presence known here too, when she could use the comfort, the farce of protection, instead of back in the real world when she doesn’t want them showing.

Juliette just wants to leave, more than anything.

But young Calliope is still there. 

And this time she’s crying, watching Jack. Juliette can’t look at her own mangled body, but she’ll never forget the sound of her wrists shattering. She will never forget the coursing, full-body shivers of pain that wracked her body before she could draw a breath. 

She has to look somewhere, and there is nowhere in this room for her to focus that will not hurt, so she lets herself look for Cal. 

And just as Juliette thinks it, her Cal finally brings herself into the story. She grabs her younger self, pulling the young Calliope’s tear-stained, bewildered face, into the front of her own shirt. Juliette blinks at the hardness in Cal’s face, doesn’t understand the slight expression of betrayal, but before she can examine it any further, the scene shifts again. 

And this time, Juliette is sitting in the backseat of an SUV as Talia drives. There is a familiar blanket covering the lifeless lump in Cal’s lap. There is no young Calliope in the car, and Juliette almost misses the girl Cal used to be. 

There is a thick tension in the air. Juliette doesn’t recognize the night at first, doesn’t understand where the Burns women are driving, until there are familiar streets blazing past the windows, and the lump in Cal’s lap stirs. 

Could it be…

But no, there was no way. 

The car screeches to an unsteady halt in front of the manor, and Juliette watches from inside the car as Cal rushes up the stairs, ever graceful, holding tenderly to the blanket in her arms. There is so much care being taken, so much gentleness in the way Cal deposits the lump to the ground, so much unrestrained desperation in the frantic pressing of the doorbell. 

Cal must hear something, because she’s turning back to the car, running down the stairs, and all Juliette can do is stare, open-mouthed. 

Cal was the one to break her out. 

And she can’t let herself think about it too long, because Cal is back in the car and Talia is driving off, and Juliette has just had to relive the worst experience of her life tonight and subsequent rescue, so her emotions are all over the place, which much change something, because Cal — her Cal, with eyes she recognizes, and a care she doesn’t want to submit to, that she can’t handle right now — turns to look out the back window, but instead makes direct eye contact with Juliette. 

The incorporeality has disappeared, apparently. 

Juliette watches surprise, regret, guilt, and then something that looks almost…soft? play across Calliope’s face as Cal takes in the sight of Juliette, shell-shocked. 

Juliette wills herself awake, wills herself out of Calliope’s dream, wills herself away , and she feels herself start to dissolve, but not before Calliope opens her mouth. 

“Jules,” is all Cal says. And it’s enough. 

Juliette opens her eyes with a gasp. 

Hearing her name from Calliope’s mouth has her heart racing, out of control, and the rest of the dream makes her panic, anxiety ripping through her. She has been pushing down all of her messy, trembling emotion deep into the chasm that opened up in her chest the moment she woke up in her bed the morning after everything. 

That one moment of recognition, as she watched the young Calliope, relaxing into Cal’s familiar habits and mannerisms. It felt so normal, so right, that returning to her body now is a shock of cold water, jumping into the deep end of the pool. Every unsteady feeling makes Juliette feel like she’s suffocating in her own skin. 

It takes her a moment to gather herself, and she stares into her own wide eyed gaze in the mirror until she doesn’t look like a person anymore — she looks as incorporeal as she felt throughout most of the dream. 

Her feelings grumble and shift inside her, something like what she imagines food poisoning to feel like, but worse, because it’s all of the nausea and none of the relief of getting to spew it out messily. She has to hold the bile in her heart. She has to feel the acrid burn against the inside of her throat, rubbing her raw. 

It was Cal. The blanket still sits on her bed, the scent of lavender and coconut, enveloping her, protecting her through every searing nightmare, every rough awakening, every dissociative daydream. 

Juliette doesn’t understand the sensations building up in her chest. 

She had assumed it was Talia, all along, who had dropped her off, with her parents opening the door, the result of an uneasy parental truce. 

But Talia had been supplemental. Calliope had picked Juliette up in her arms and taken her, finally, from hell.

It didn’t make it better. But it makes it different. 

Juliette feels her head spin, and she’s thirsty again, against all odds. It isn’t safe to go hunting now — not unsafe for herself, but for the young men of Savannah. She is tamping down all of the unfortunate urges for the moment, but if she leaves the house there is no guarantee she will be able to control herself for long. 

There is blood downstairs, if she can sneak by without alerting her parents to her presence. 

She tiptoes down the stairs, but she is unsteady on her feet, almost drunk on the disorientation of her unshakable thirst combined with the confusing knot of feelings pressing out of her chest. 

And she doesn’t even fully land on the ground floor before she hears her father’s voice. 

It is fake and forced, and sounds nothing at all like him, but he says her name, calls for her to walk into the kitchen, and it is too late — Juliette has been heard. 

She fixes a neutral expression on her face and tries to push her complicated feelings away, but there is no more space in her body for emotions she has not processed. She is too young to have so much mess accumulate inside her. 

“Juliette,” her father says again, his jaw tensing as he squeezes out the word. She recognizes the restraint in him; she has been looking at the same sorry attempt in the mirror for too long now. 

Sebastian and Margot are seated in the same seats as before, but Elinor is at the table, lounging cooly now. Juliette watches her parents exchange a glance. “Your mother, ah…”

“I regret how our prior conversation ended,” Margot says. It seems sincere, but Juliette doesn’t fucking know if she can believe it. 

All of this fake shit is driving her insane. She feels every tempered frustration of the past few weeks stretch up in her languorously, the worst parts of her waking up and taking up space in her bones. She keeps her mouth shut, nods stiffly. Juliette doesn’t trust herself. 

She can tell that Elinor is stealing glances up the table, but there is no pre-agreed upon signal she can give Elinor to let her know that things are hard again. 

“Did you hear your mother?” Sebastian presses. Juliette wishes he wouldn’t. 

She nods again anyway. 

“About Prague,” Margot starts again, and the beast in Juliette’s chest yawns long and wide, bearing its teeth. She can’t believe they’re still on this. “We’ve called our cousins. They said they’d be more than happy to have you.” 

“Wait,” Elinor speaks up. “You’re sending her away?” 

“Elinor-” Sebastian looks pained. “Now is not the time to be helpful.” 

Margot just shakes her head. “Does darling Juliette look well to you? She needs a vacation.” 

“This is a punishment,” Elinor protests. 

Margot disagrees, “It’s merely a change in scenery. I wouldn’t think you would be so resistant, considering the…trouble Juliette has caused for you lately.” 

Elinor is about to respond, but she is cut off suddenly. 

“Aw,” comes a drawling voice in the background, and a figure moves out of the shadows. “She’s just a kid. Cut her some slack.”

Oliver is standing, half lit, and Margot stands abruptly, managing to stop Sebastian before he launches towards his son. Elinor is not on her feet, but she has stopped filing her nails, and her face is disdainful. 

Juliette can’t fucking believe Oliver has shown up now. 

Silence, since the raid on his home, and now he’s here? He gives her a clue, and maybe she was using it against him, but for him to go off the grid entirely, instead of doing anything in retribution, raging, making threatening promises, giving her any reassurances — he could have said anything in the time between the raid and now, but instead. 

Here he is. Showing up as she is at the very end of her tether. The very picture of a caring big brother. 

Juliette’s stomach writhes with emotion as Oliver shoots her a big cheesy grin. Elinor is sitting up straight, Margot has schooled her features into that pleasant neutrality she worked so hard to maintain when she was seething, and Sebastian is growling openly, lowly. At least there is one person in the room worse than Juliette at concealing their emotions. 

“Pity Jules here was the only one who dropped by my house in time for the tussle,” Oliver strides up behind Juliette and picks up a lock of her hair, twists it between his fingers, then drops it lightly on her shoulder as she tenses. “I really would have loved it if you all had visited.” 

“What do you want, Oliver?” Margot’s voice is stern. 

He just laughs. “What do I want?”

Oliver stands at the end of the table, opposite to where Margot, Sebastian, and Elinor are sitting. He levels them with a challenging grin, then smirks over her shoulder back at Juliette. 

“What I want is for all of you to know exactly how I feel!”

He gestures broadly at Juliette. “Jules gets it. She’s my good little accomplice, after all.” 

And the confusion loosens Juliette’s tongue before she can control it. “What? No, I’m not. I brought the Council to your house.” 

Margot is looking between her two children like she doesn’t know who to believe. Elinor rolls her eyes hard. 

“Obviously this is just another one of Oliver’s twisted grabs for more power.” 

“Spoken like a true bitter bitch,” Oliver snarks at Elinor, and the shadow of a sneer plays across his face. “But really, Jules, give yourself a little credit. You were invaluable to my plan.” 

“I don’t understand,” Juliette grits out, demanding. 

“Well, we had the Guild and the Legacy Council in the same place at the same time, after all! And the element of surprise on our side,” Oliver’s smile has turned maniacal. “Wouldn’t it have simply been a shame if they had been able to tear each other apart?”

Juliette hears Elinor take a sharp inhale, like she understands something, but her own brain must be working slower, dulled by the general fury in her veins, that she needs Oliver to say more. 

“I-how did I help?” she asks. It sounds hard, an edge in her throat, her words are slicing out.

“You were vital,” Oliver assures her. “I got someone to feed Elinor’s pet hunter some intel about the monsters in my garden,” and Elinor blanches slightly, though Juliette has no idea who Oliver is referring to, “and I just needed someone the council —  and more importantly, Mother dearest — would trust to deliver the message that I was back to my old tricks.” 

“Why not me?” Elinor’s voice breaks through the haze of betrayal Oliver’s words have caused to float up around Juliette’s eyes. 

“You?” Oliver laughs. “As if anyone would believe anything else you told them about me.” 

“I’d convince them,” Elinor says. She’s ice cold, razor wire. “It wouldn’t take much.” 

Oliver hums thoughtfully. “You could try, I suppose. But you and I both know how much trouble you have when it’s more than one person with you in a room. I needed the whole Legacy Council, and I needed sweet, harmless, little Jules, here.” 

And the wellspring of fury in Juliette’s body felt like it would overflow. Here she was, underestimated, again. 

But the truth was — she had fallen for it. 

She had felt so clever, so ahead of the curve, so hungry for a fight, that she hadn’t even stopped to consider why Oliver had gifted her with that dream. It hadn’t been a choice to see him, but she chalked it up to her inexperience. But Oliver mentioned Carmen’s name, he had smiled and joked, and Juliette felt like the world opened under her hands. There had been no thirst in her, for the first time ever, and she had felt new. 

She was the naive little girl everyone saw. Just a pawn in their game. 

And it was never going to end. 

Something electric buzzed in her ears. 

“You haven’t changed at all,” Elinor sniffed dismissively. 

“I could say the same about you, sis,” Oliver has a shit-eating grin on his face. “I just wish I could have seen you laying out in the yard.”

Sebastian lets out another low growl, but Oliver must not notice, because he keeps going. 

“I really was hoping Mama Burns would manage to cleave your pretty little head from your pretty little shoulders. Being less mouthy would make you more attractive, I’m sure.” 

And before he finishes his sentence, the squeaking of chair legs against the tile of the kitchen floor is blaring out in Juliette’s ears; there is a crashing of furniture, and Oliver is stumbling into the antique hutch Margot’s china is stored in. Sebastian is driving her shoulder hard into Oliver’s chest, forcing him backwards. 

The last time her brother and father were tussling, Calliope was in the house too. 

But this time, Oliver seems stronger — there is a glow in his eyes as he bares his teeth and drives his heels in. Now that he has recovered from disorientation, he grapples with Sebastian easily. 

A wind sweeps into the kitchen, and Oliver’s witch floats in on a cloud, glowing blue and shooting multicolored sparks at Juliette’s disoriented father, who responds to the barrage like a cornered animal, hissing and batting at the lights around him. 

Margot, ever loyal to her husband, goes to launch herself at Carmen, and Elinor darts forward, striking hard at Oliver’s head. 

Oliver is fending off Elinor and managing to land blow after blow on Sebastian, and, with one move, manages to rip bloody lines across Sebastian’s chest, sending him tumbling to the ground, and catch Elinor’s slender neck in a vice grip, squeezing as she coughs lightly. 

Elinor scratches at Oliver’s hands with her long, talon-like nails, and she manages to scrape thin lines into the meat of his cheek, but nothing works to release his grip. 

“Jules,” she chokes out, and Juliette barely hears her. Margot and Carmen are still crashing around behind her. 

“Jules, I’ve been on your side,” Elinor says, and a bolt of light from Carmen hit Sebastian’s crumpled body, making him cry out. Margot is distracted. Juliette feels fractured, her attention split on her family, spread across the room. 

Margot is trying to pull Carmen back, but Carmen keeps loosing bolts of miniature lightning at Sebastian, and eventually Margot darts forward to shield Sebastian with her own body. 

Oliver’s hands are choking Elinor more tightly, but Elinor is still pleading with Juliette. 

“I helped you hide the bodies, I kept them away from you, Jules, help.” 

Juliette feels like her feet are stuck in their spot. The lightning reminds her of cattle prods and the smell of her father’s burnt flesh makes her gag. 

Elinor keeps trying “I brought you inside, that night, I carried you up the stairs, I put you in bed, I was there when no one else was, Juliette,” and then her voice hardens, like Elinor is trying to use her powers, like she’s making a demand. “Help me.” 

And at that moment, there is a hand around Juliette’s neck. She hears Carmen whisper gotcha!

There is no time to think, but in the half a second it takes before her body releases all of her pent up feeling, Juliette thinks about the way that, even at her best, she doesn’t quite understand how Elinor manages to pull the smooth suave manipulation — it’s another level of control, one that extends beyond herself. Juliette has a hard enough time making sure her body and her mind are in sync - Elinor can convince other people too. 

Her whole family is powerful like that. And even if she is the odd one out, she is still one of them.

Juliette sees white. 

She doesn’t remember what happens. But she comes back to herself and she’s panting. Oliver is leaking red all over, a gouge over his eyebrow painting half his face a black-red hue, disappearing in the shadows. Elinor is gasping, her hands massaging her neck, and she looks at Juliette with an expression that Juliette has never actually seen play across her face. 

Elinor is afraid. Of her.

Carmen is passed out behind Juliette, slumped against a wall, and Margot’s body is heavy over Sebastian’s prone form. Margot is looking up at Juliette, horrified, and, worse, a little impressed. 

Juliette wants to throw up. She wants to feed. there is a buzzing, loud in her ears, and she hears the sound of her breathing, too loud. 

They’re all scared. 

Juliette never wanted this. She never wanted all of the power and the responsibility, and the fucking weight of it all. She followed along and did what she was told, but all she wanted was to run away with the girl she loved.

She can’t think. Her bloodlust is pulsing under her skin, but she knows feeding now will just make it worse. 

She can’t think. The way her family is eyeing her, like she’s dangerous but they respect her more now, makes her furious. She's rage, embodied.

She can’t think. Nowhere is safe. No one is safe anymore.

She can’t think. Juliette doesn’t know what to do. 

She runs again.

Chapter Text

Theo closes the front door gently behind him, like he always had, and Calliope can’t think over the swirling confusion in her chest. 

He had talked with them for hours, promising to come back as soon as it was safe. Calliope is so glad he was there. She is so relieved he is okay, and the truth of the matter is that he really does seem okay. 

All of her silly, childish mistakes led to him getting hurt, and suddenly, finding out he is really fine gives her the room to worry about the only thing she has wanted to think about for so long now. 

She can’t feel Juliette.

The bond isn’t controlling her. It hasn’t for a while. 

Everything she has felt, it has been truly and wholly hers. 

Every moment of empathy, where she swore she ached at the sound of Juliette’s hurt — that pain was her own. 

It makes everything more real, somehow. All of Calliope’s affection and care, it belonged to her. It was a choice she had made, without realizing it. In a way, this feels like a loss, like she no longer has a link to Juliette’s heart and mind, and she misses it. She doesn’t want to lose the last few pieces of Juliette she could claim.

Cal wonders if Jules knows too. Or worse, if Juliette has been hurting and hoping the sting of it was Calliope’s all along. 

Apollo leaves her alone without a word, which she appreciates, and Daisy does not follow him, which she appreciates more. 

Daisy hops up onto the bed, and Calliope lets herself cry, exhausted. Her body still aches, trembles when she tries to hold herself still, and Daisy comforts her as best as she can, lapping gently at Calliope’s cheeks, clearing off any remaining tears. 

She has proof now, that neither severing was necessary. The Guild has no information on Legacies, not the spears, not how to kill them, and now, not about their bites. There is so much the Guild does not know. 

How can they claim to provide balance? 

A door slams, and before she can react, Daisy is bolting out of the room, presumably running back to Apollo’s bedroom to hide. 

Cal shifts when her mother calls her name, but before she can sit up, another familiar voice speaks up from her doorway. 

“Yo, you look like shit.” 

Cal smiles, despite herself. “Tess.” 

Tess has a half smile on her face. “Hey Cal.”

They both stand uneasily, neither wanting to move. There is tension between them now that has never existed before, not even after the break-up. 

Their whole break-up, just like their relationship, had been amicable. It had to be — their fathers are best friends, they have known each other their whole lives, they had no choice but to ensure that whatever happened between them wouldn’t get in the way of their families. 

Their families came first always. They couldn’t interrupt any missions with their petty dramas. 

And Cal doesn’t even really remember what it had been, if it was that she was moving again, or if Tess was going abroad, if it was the fact that she had been given a chance at her first kill when Tess hadn’t, or if it was the fact that Calliope had gotten that chance and missed it, but suddenly all they were doing was fight. 

They sparred together to get excess energy out whenever they were in the same town, and Cal relished the challenge, a body she knew as well as her own, that she could read with a single glance. It was familiar, something she had been raised her whole life to know.

Tess was each aspect of her upbringing personified. Tess was steadfast and recognizable and entirely boring. 

Juliette had been such a fucking breath of fresh air. Jules was unpredictable in every way — Cal never understood what was going on in her pretty head, and she loved being surprised. 

Juliette had stepped forward first, had pushed Calliope onto her bed, had broken into school, had wanted Calliope, with a hunger that had been ceaseless and fierce and clamoring. 

There had never been that much raw desire with Tess. They had been best friends, giggled into each other’s mouths before kissing shyly in each other’s bedrooms. So their breakup, their fights, everything that had followed with the widening distance between them — it had meant there was never really any loss. 

No, they were never as close as they had once been; now it seemed like they would never be that close again. 

But there had never before been this much strain between them. 

Calliope, betrayed by the girl in front of her. Tess, with her parents murdered. 

Juliette hanging in the air, unspoken between them. The catalyst of it all. 

But wait — that was unfair. Juliette opening Calliope’s mind to the way the world really worked didn’t mean there was any blame that could be laid at her feet. It just meant that Calliope had been sleepwalking for years, a child, trusting her parents every word, and now she was waking up to find the nightmares didn’t scare her the way she had been told they might. 

And Tess was still asleep. 

Could Calliope wake her without startling her? Would it be fair, now, after so much loss, to pull Tess from the sweet dream that was the protection the Guild promised? The tempting lies they peddled, the utopia they sent soldiers to fight for? 

Instead, Cal gestures to her bed, motioning for Tess to sit down. She catches sight of herself in her reflection and wipes at her red eyes surreptitiously, hoping Tess won’t say anything. 

Tess sits, and it’s awkward like it’s never been for them, but everything Cal can think to say is I’m sorry about your parents and you shouldn’t have told anyone what I said and I know that we’ve been just as bad as the monsters we hunt — I was right all along. 

She can’t say any of that out loud. 

Thankfully, Tess breaks the silence. 

“How are you feeling? Apollo said the severing really laid you out.”

“It was…rough,” Cal inclines her head slightly. “Couldn’t feel my body for a while after waking up, but I’m mostly back now.” 

Tess grins. It doesn’t reach her eyes like it used to. The bags underneath her eyes are dark and deep. “You down to spar? I’d love to kick your ass.” 

And immediately Calliope’s mind flashes back to the last time she sparred with Tess, with both of their families watching, with Uncle Mike murmuring encouragingly, looking impressed, Aunt Sarah nodding in approval. 

She can’t help it. “Tess, about your mom and dad-”

But Tess cuts her off. “Don’t, okay? Not you too.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about-” 

“I have nothing to say.”

“You saw them dead,” Cal’s voice is louder now, however unintentionally. “We were best friends, you can’t even tell me how you feel?”

Tess barks a bitter laugh, “We were best friends.” 

“Oh,” Cal leans back, hurt. They haven’t been best friends for a while, sure. But hearing it still hits her. 

“How could we be best friends now, after you spent weeks chasing after the same type of bloodsucker that killed my family?” Tess scoffs. “You’ve chosen your side.” 

“I went through two severings,” Cal bites back. “How can you say that?”

“Because even after all that, you don’t seem to understand,” Tess throws her hands up. “You don’t get what we’ve been fighting for, all these years.” 

Cal laughs bitterly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Uncle Jack,” Tess says, like an indictment. Like it should mean something to Calliope other than just her father’s name. 

She’s frustrated. “What about him?” 

Tess shakes her head slightly, exasperated, visibly annoyed at Calliope. Cal feels a pang of irritation shoot through her chest; this was how it was at the end for them, bickering and not saying what they meant, speaking in code and getting frustrated when the other person didn’t understand. She thought she was past the break-up, but apparently all it took was one fight to bring all the old, awful feelings back. 

“Your dad told me you let the daywalker go,” Tess spits the words like poison. Calliope flinches, expecting to feel a burn, but then…doesn’t. 

She freed Juliette — but not soon enough. If anything, that was indictment enough. 

A wave of calm flows through her at the thought of it. Calliope knows she has blame to bear here, but it is not the blame Tess is assigning. It is a fault that Tess 

“It didn’t make sense to keep her,” Cal tries to explain. “We weren’t learning anything, he couldn’t kill her, and she was suffering-”

“They don’t feel pain!” Tess explodes. Her eyes are wide with disbelief and there’s the curve of a smile on her lips, but there’s no humor in the room, just a thick stain of sadness, spreading from under Tess’ feet. 

“She was hurting,” Cal insists, and she forces her voice to stay even. 

“It has you in it’s fucking clutches,” Tess obviously isn’t concerned with modulating her voice the same way, and there are tears forming in her eyes. “You picked her over all of us. You picked her over me, Callie, she was there when my parents died, and you keep choosing her, over and over again. I watched her run away, and when I turned back, my parents were dead.” 

Cal keeps her hands low and tries to reach out to Tess. “Jules- she was coming to me. She was saving me from Cook, I owe her-”

“You don’t fucking owe anyone anything, don’t pretend. Theo’s gone because of her and you don’t care,” Tess is crying in earnest now and it’s heartbreaking, seeing the usually confident, bold, brash girl Cal has known her entire life crumple into such a small hate-filled thing. 

And the worst part is, Calliope understands. Not just the parts of her that are Guild, but all of her knows that the suffering Tess is feeling is some of the worst pain in the world. Tess knows, is absolutely certain, that two of the most important people in her life were tormented before their final moments.

Cal knows the feeling. She thinks of when she thought Theo was gone, the abject desperation that wracked her whole being and the way it cut into the softest parts of her. Even his visit earlier couldn’t undo the scars that had formed. 

Cal knows her father has deeper scars, with the death of Theo’s mother. And now it’s Tess’ turn to be anointed, indoctrinated into this sacred fucking club, people who have been left behind with what-could-have-beens. 

Cal’s not a part of that club, not really. But she knows what it might be like to experience it in fractions. 

“I just don’t think we’re doing it right,” Cal is desperate to explain without making things worse — at the end of the day, Tess, too, is family. “There has to be a way to make sure we only target the bad ones.” 

Tess looks up amidst tears, incredulous. “They’re monsters, Cal, what are you talking about?” 

“I just mean-”

“What are you even trying to tell me right now?” Tess rubs at her eyes hard. “What do you even believe anymore?”

“I don’t know if we can say that they’re evil when not all of them want to hurt people. If we target innocents because they might do something wrong, what does that say about us?”

“They’re the fucking evil ones, not us. We’re not the fucking monsters, Calliope.”

“Yeah?” challenges Cal, her jaw set. This conversation is not going the way she wants — Tess has always been too stubborn for her own good. “Why are we picking off innocent colonies? Why do we go after nests and dens? Sure, we came to Savannah because we got reports of ghouls and wraiths, but some of the fights we pick aren’t like that. There are babies in there. They haven’t done anything. We’re hunting for sport.”

“For sport, for protection, as long as they die, what’s the difference?” Tess entreats, obviously wanting to sway Cal to her side just as much as Cal wants to open Tess’ eyes. 

Cal scoffs. “Of course that’d be the same to you. You went behind my back to gain points with the Guild on the Legacy raid, and now you’re pretending that you care about the mission, not the accolades.”

“I didn’t go behind your back,” Tess protests. “If you were having doubts, the Guild needed to know!” 

“You should have fucking told me, instead of snitching,” Cal shouts, throwing her hands in the air. “We haven’t been doing anything good for years, Tess, all we do is kill.”

Tess insists, “We make things safe.”  

“Like the Guild kept your parents safe?”

As soon as it leaves her mouth, Cal regrets it, but the moment has passed, it’s too late to take it back, the words are out there, and shock has frozen the tears on Tess’ face. 

She stands, slowly, shaking, and Calliope is trembling with regret and restraint, but she makes no apology. For half a second, Calliope thinks Tess might hit her, but Tess steps away instead. 

“I can’t believe you,” she says, and leaves the room without another word. 

The feeling of shame that balloons in Calliope’s chest is awful, but not unfamiliar. 

It was unfair, stooping so low, but Tess knew exactly how to get under her skin. 

She plans an apology. She would have to deliver it sooner rather than later, but at the same time- 

She had made her intentions clear. Calliope had picked a side and defended it. 

She wasn’t for the monsters, not by any means, no matter how much Tess tries to spin it that way. Cal is there for those who can’t speak for themselves. She wants to protect the innocents. 

There are too many of the defenseless getting hurt as bystanders in a war that doesn’t involve them. 

Only a moment of silence passes before a sharp knock at the door startles Calliope out of the reverie she had fallen in, staring through her bedroom window blankly. 

“Come in,” she calls, dreading her father’s clumsy insistence that she apologize to Tess, or her mother’s pursed lips, telling her all the you-should-know-betters in one pointed gaze. 

But instead, the sound of scratching nails on hardwood fills the space, and Daisy is leaping up into Calliope’s arms, the pup trusting blindly that Calliope will catch her. 

“Hey,” Apollo calls up. “I heard yelling. Everything okay?”

Cal gives a half-hearted shrug, energy depleted from the argument. Now that the adrenaline of shouting at someone has worn off, she just sort of feels…sad. Daisy snuggles closer. “Difference of opinion.” 

“Loud one,” Apollo notes, almost offhandedly. 

“Mm,” Cal agrees and nods her head. He sits beside her on the edge of the bed where she’s slouching, curling protectively around Daisy. He doesn’t get close enough to touch her, just reaches one hand out to tousle the fur on Daisy’s head. She stretches to meet him halfway. 

“Do you think about her mom?” Apollo asks, like he’s just thought of the question, like the eyes of the werebeast don’t haunt him the way Cal feels herself haunted. 

Although, maybe that is just something that’s happening to her — Cal wants to be a little haunted. It’s better than forgetting and moving on. 

She shrugs a little as a response instead, not finding the words to tell her big brother that she might only be sixteen, but she’s got a list of regrets a mile long. 

“I see her in my dreams,” Apollo tells her offhandedly. He’s looking down at Daisy, acting casual, but Cal knows how much he feels. “I keep seeing her too.” 

He looks up meaningfully, but Cal couldn’t have missed his intention if he had handed it to her wrapped in neon trimmings. 

He sees Juliette too. 

But she has to be sure — she can’t take anything for granted, not anymore, not with the silence that’s been plaguing her family for the past few weeks. They can’t seem to speak to one another, not in ways that matter, and it’s fine but it makes her feel like they don’t know each other anymore. Maybe she would lay her life down for any of them, but she doesn’t feel like she’s heard them talk, really speak about anything that feels true in too long. Not since Theo. Not since Jules. 

But Cal needs Apollo to say it, so she presses. “Who do you see?”

And Cal’s curious if he’ll talk about Jules the way Jack and Tess do — all “daywalker” and “it can’t feel , Calliope!” as if they have any idea what they’re talking about. As if they know what it’s like to have someone that damn soft gaze up at them with trust, holding their hand close to a slowly beating heart, and asking for a promise. 

As if her father can fathom the guilt of breaking a promise like the one Calliope made Jules. 

Apollo keeps petting Daisy, takes a minute to respond, but there’s resolve in his voice when he answers, and Cal believes him. “I see her. The girl. Juliette. And I can’t stop thinking about how horrible it was, Cal, I can’t stop thinking about if it was Theo, and I-”

His voice cracks, and, with Daisy still in her arms, Cal leans over slightly, just to be closer to her brother. She thinks he’s done talking, but he stifles a sniffle and keeps going. 

“Before he left, Theo told me about an…opportunity. It’s surveillance, and it’s dangerous. It wouldn’t be Guild sanctioned. But it feels like it might be something better than the Guild.”

Cal cocks her head, curious. 

Apollo continues. “There are others out there, people who used to be Guild, and then something happened — they had a loved one turned, they saw something go wrong, they met a puppy,” and he rubs Daisy’s head as her tongue lolls out happily, “but basically, there are folks out there who think like me. Like us. Theo’s trying to find them.”

“And you’re thinking of going with him,” Cal says. It’s not a question because she knows her brothers — she knows they’re a package deal. If Theo leads, Apollo will follow, always. No matter what they are. 

“And I’m thinking about it,” Apollo amends, but the expression on his face is sheepish. He knows that Calliope understands. “I think it’s important for us to find people. We still need to be prepared for things like that fucked up raid at Oliver's-”

“But that’s what I’ll be able to keep an eye on,” Cal finishes. 

Apollo studies her for a moment. “You’re not even going to try and fight me on coming?” He sounds amused. 

“I can’t go,” Cal tells him simply. “I know y’all are going to need someone here, with ties to the Guild and Mom and Dad. And-” 

She breaks off. And I have unfinished business here, she wants to say. 

But Apollo knows. He sees the look in her eyes. 

“We have an ask, if you’re okay with staying,” he posits, carefully, not pushing any more at the end of Cal’s sentences, trusting her to speak up if there’s anything she really needs to tell him. “We’re going to need patrols of Savannah, just to keep an eye on things. Theo’s fairly certain that the Guild is going to institute them anyway, thanks to all of the deaths, but we need you to be on the streets as much as possible, and then letting us know what’s going on at home, okay?” 

“I can do that,” Cal nods. They fall back into easy silence once more, and Calliope considers this adventure her brothers have found themselves in. 

If either of them get hurt here, it’ll be her fault too — her fault they got so close to vampires, that Theo was turned, that they have now decided to leave the Guild, essentially, to build something better. 

And she thinks about herself. Unlike every other time her brothers have gone somewhere without her, always up ahead and running off into the distance, she doesn’t feel the urge to follow. 

She knows where her place is, she knows where she can make the most difference. She knows she should stay. 

“What about Daisy?” Calliope asks eventually, turning the pup in her hands, sitting Daisy up straight.

“Oh, well she’s coming with me,” and Apollo’s face is covered by a huge grin. “I’m going to turn her into the sickest hunting dog in the States, you’ll see.” 

And as if to immediately contradict everything Apollo has just said, Daisy whuffs a quiet bark, twists in Cal’s arms, and breaks free, only to smother them both in puppy kisses. 

The idea of the Burns Brothers back together is exciting. Calliope knows Apollo is feeling the thrill of it, but he’s exacted promises that Calliope won’t tell either of their parents anything about their whereabouts. 

“You can tell them we’re being safe,” Apollo warns her. “But nothing else, okay?”

Calliope agrees without much hassle — she doesn’t trust her father with secrets right now anyway, so that’s besides the point — and Apollo gives her a burner phone. 

“Theo set it up,” he says, with a meaningful look, and Cal knows what that means. Despite its humble appearance, the phone is more of a spy gadget than anything. Calliope’s sure that every measure of security possible, every single upgrade that will be useful to them, has already been installed. 

Apollo pats her lightly on the shoulder as he leaves her room, Daisy gives her a great big kiss, and when they walk out of the room, Cal stares at the phone on her bed. 

She’s really choosing to stay behind on what could be the most significant mission of her generation. She’s letting her brothers have it. 

And she’s surprisingly okay with the decision. 

But there is a pit left in her stomach when she thinks about all of the possibilities her brothers will be facing, the good, the bad, and the worst. She decides the pit in her stomach excuses her from dinner, where Tess will be sitting sourly, and her father won’t make eye contact, and her mother, bless her, will push vegetables onto everyone’s plates because food is a love language too, dammit, and if we’re going to sulk, we’re at least going to be well fed.

Instead she curls up in her bed. 

Cal swears Juliette’s presence overnight that one time has left a permanent imprint on one side of the bed, even if she can’t see it, and the smell of Juliette has long faded, furiously scrubbed away, as Juliette’s blood seeped into the cold concrete a few floors below her. 

She had been so determined to erase Juliette from her life. And for what? Looking back now, it feels futile, childish. 

It had felt so serious then. She had done so many serious things. 

Now the best she can do is curl up tight in the dip in the mattress she swears Jules caused. Sleeping on Juliette’s side of the bed does nothing to fix things between them; Juliette will never even know. But Calliope knows. She wants to be as close as she can now. She’ll take as much as she can get. 

Sleep hasn’t been coming easily lately, but there is residual exhaustion after the severing, and Calliope’s heavy bones settle softly as she closes her eyes. 

Her mind does not rest though. 

Instead she dreams of things that have already happened — she sees her old community library in Philadelphia, from before they moved to Paris, and she watches her younger self surrounded by books, sinking in comfortably. 

That poor girl, sitting there, has no idea how strange things are going to get. 

Paris was just the start — there had never been a place where Cal could remember settling for very long after Philly. 

There was a good reason her family is — was — as close as they were. The Burns family stuck together, because in every new city, they were the only familiar thing to cling on to. With new languages, new food, and new schools every few months, it was no wonder they were as tightly knit as they were. 

And Paris had been the start. Her younger self, about to turn nine years old, had been comfortable in Philadelphia. Uncle Mike and Aunt Sarah had lived close by, Tess was always over at her house, and school was easy — she had friends, and the school librarian told her stories about the myths of greatness that surrounded her name, her brothers’ names. 

But Theo and Apollo were getting older; the Guild had wanted them to get more field experience, and her father had wanted nothing more than Helm status for their family, moving past their Blade designation. The only way to rise in the ranks was to do exactly what the Guild demanded. 

Calliope remembers how thrilled she had been, at first, at the idea of traveling the world. Of getting to watch her brothers live up to the heroes of myth that she had earned about. Of inspiring greatness herself, of doing something epic like in the books she read. 

But she soon realized what leaving would mean. 

Cal watches her younger self read, and she can’t help but mourn who she could have grown up to become if she had just been allowed to stay. If she could have ever started and finished the school year at one school, instead of three , year after year. If her broken French, her rusty Spanish, her partial Tagalog, could have been allowed to flourish into real language skills, instead of all of the half-formed possibilities she was now. 

Calliope is made up of so many unfinished stories, and even now, at sixteen, it feels impossible to find a way to tie those threads into something usable. 

She grew up reading the classics — all of the simmering pain of Barracoon and The Cancer Journals, feeling through the injustices August Wilson set into his plays, essays by Baldwin, poems and songs of love’s liberation by Maya Angelou. There is so much tiredness in her already. It’s not enough to be a young woman navigating the world, making mistakes for the first time, but there are lives on the line, and ones Calliope cares about. 

People she can’t stand to lose, not any more than she’s already lost them. There is a deeper dark that she can fathom, and Calliope knows she will do everything in her power to keep the people she loves from going there. 

She just hopes it isn’t too late.

Those big dreams, being the most renowned hunter in the world, leaving her mark — it feels so foolish now. 

I always want to be where I am, she had told Juliette, and Calliope wasn’t sure Juliette understood. Juliette had other dreams, ones she held back, Cal could tell. But Calliope wants the chance to explain it. She wants the chance to tell Juliette exactly how she feels. 

Calliope wants to have Juliette in front of her so she can say, “I’ve always wanted to be exactly where I was. I was never good at leaving, or saying goodbyes, even though I should be. But now — I’ve gotten a choice, and I chose to stay. I chose you.”

It doesn’t matter if Juliette doesn’t choose her back this time; Cal knows that Jules has given enough.

Her younger self follows her father out of the library and into a familiar basement and Calliope wants to shrink back into the shadows. She can’t bear to watch, not like this. It’s bad enough for the memories to surface when she’s awake, but to have it follow her into her exhausted dreaming — it feels like too much. 

But her younger self is sobbing at the sights and sounds. Calliope can’t let her see that. She has to protect the innocents, even if that means herself. 

There’s a shimmer of light that flashes beside her as Cal moves forward, engulfing her younger self in a hug. 

And when the scene changes again, Cal swears her younger self looks up with gratitude, like there’s some good she might have done with that one moment of protection, like she’s already making a difference, even in her own head. 

She plays through the motions, trapped in her body just like during the severing, dropping Juliette off at the front door of the Fairmont manor. 

She settles back into the car, and looks over at her mother’s grim face, jaw set, and out of the corner of her eye, there’s another flash of light. 

But this time, it resolves into a familiar shape. 

A welcome sight, if unexpected. 

“Jules,” Cal breathes out, her heart racing, arms longing to hold the girl she has missed for so long now, the girl she has hurt like no other. 

She resists, somehow, as she watches an expression of utter panic consume Juliette’s expression, and Calliope’s heart drops. 

There is no way back from this; she is certain. But still, seeing Juliette, being this close, even in a dream…

It’s enough. 

Calliope sleeps through dinner. After seeing Juliette, her body finally decides it’s allowed to relax into a peaceful slumber, but then decides it needs sustenance, so she wakes to a loud groan from her stomach. 

It’s late – or early rather, as she looks at the clock and sees the time. Almost the right time for Apollo to leave on his early hunts, but his room is dark and still when she pads carefully by. 

He might already be gone, sneaking out at night to join Theo so their parents can’t stop him. 

Calliope hopes he’s careful. She reminds herself to send him a text later, and then makes her way down to the kitchen. 

She is just opening the freezer and feeling around for the dino nuggets, when there is movement behind her, and the sound of someone clearing their throat. 

“A little late for junk food,” her mother says, dryly.  Calliope freezes, her shoulders rising to her ears. 

She turns around slowly and feels sheepish, though she hasn’t been doing anything wrong. “I was hungry since I-”

“Missed dinner?” Talia finishes. “We noticed.”

Talia studies Calliope for a second and Calliope stiffens, hoping that she is not found wanting. Her mother has always been scarier, fiercer than her father by far, and more extreme in her shifts between doting and demanding. 

But the demands have never been major things, always eat more vegetables and make sure you’re training hard and I expect you to give your best in every situation. 

And Cal knows why —  Talia has taken it upon herself to make sure her children are ready for a world that is out to get them. Jack has the luxury of getting away sometimes, but Talia is always with her children, the first line of defense. So if she is pushy, there is a reason. 

And right now, Talia is being pushy. She’s brushing past Cal in the freezer, reaching to the back, and grabbing a carton of ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, both of their favorite. 

Talia pulls out two spoons, opens the ice cream, and gestures for Cal to dig in first. 

Calliope puts a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. 

“Apollo’s not in his room,” Talia notes. Cal stiffens, and the ice cream sits on her tongue, cold like a shock to the system. “And neither is that werebeast pup he’s been trying to hide.” 

“You…” Cal starts weakly, around the mouthful of ice cream. She swallows hard. 

Talia looks amused. “I do notice the things going on in my own house.” 

Calliope doesn’t make eye contact. She thinks about the blissful night Juliette spent in her bed. 

And Talia notices Calliope’s silence but misinterprets it. There is a pained look on her face. “Ah. No, I didn’t know about her until I got back.” 

And Cal really doesn’t want to talk about it, so she pushes forward. “Got back from where? Where did you and Theo end up going?”

Talia lets out a little sigh. “We were at Oliver’s house straight away, but…I still have friends, from before I met your father, who…”

She trails off and looks pensively at a wall for so long Cal checks over her shoulder to make sure she isn’t missing anything. “My friends don’t always agree with what the Guild does. And they’ve made their stance clear. I was with them for a while after dropping Theo off.” 

“Theo and Apollo are looking for-” Cal blurts out before her brain catches up to her and she realizes Apollo told her specifically not to mention anything. 

“They’re together, then,” Talia states, raising an eyebrow. “That’s good. I assumed they’d find their ways back, but with everything going on…” 

Her mother looks forlorn. Talia’s got bags under her eyes and she looks tired in a way Cal doesn’t recognize from her usually well-kempt mother. 

“They’re being safe,” she volunteers. 

“You know that?” Talia asks, but doesn’t look up at Cal. 

“Well…” 

“And you aren’t going to tell me where exactly they’re headed,” Talia eyes Calliope. 

“No ma’am,” Calliope replies respectfully, apologetic. She couldn’t tell her mother, even if she wanted to. She isn’t sure. 

“They’ll be careful?” The hope in Talia’s voice, the faint glimmer of hope, makes Calliope’s heart sink lower in her chest. “Would you know?”

“I’d know,” Cal promises, and even if she’s being stingy with promises, this is one she thinks she will be able to keep. Even when her brothers are far away, she feels them. Even if they don’t text her on the burner phone, Calliope thinks she might know if they’re in trouble. 

“Alright then,” and Talia gives a decisive nod. She closes the ice cream carton they’ve been picking at, and places it back in the fridge with one swift motion. 

Talia has always been the epitome of grace and Calliope has always envied the ease in every movement, but the exhaustion is seeping through, even now, and Talia’s slower on her feet, less alert. 

“Mom?” Cal asks suddenly. “What are you going to tell Dad about Apollo?” 

Talia stops in her tracks, and her shoulders slump. Cal feels a prickle of panic — her mother does not slouch.  

“Your father,” she starts, and she’s being too careful. “Is on a Guild mission. He and Tess left before you came downstairs.” 

“Oh.” That’s not that bad. He’s been on missions before. “How long will they be gone?” 

Talia looks at Calliope carefully. “We don’t know.” 

“Where’s he going? What’s he hunting?” 

Talia shrugs a little. “We’re not allowed to know. We’ve been stripped of our clearance, all of us, except your father and Tess, and they’re being moved somewhere they can better execute the Guild’s directives.”

The last few words are bitter, and Calliope feels them keenly. A wound opens in her chest, a sore thing that she didn’t anticipate. 

The Guild doesn’t trust them anymore. Her father’s life work, his purpose, and his family can no longer be a part of it. 

It might be temporary, but it is going to be a black mark on their record forever. 

“This house keeps losing people,” Cal doesn’t realize she’s murmured it out loud, but her mother moves close to her and wraps an arm around Calliope’s shoulder, rubs her tense shoulders gently.

“We’ll keep moving forward, you and me,” Talia says like a promise. “Besides, we’re not cut off from the Guild entirely. We’re going to be patrolling, both of us, through the city.” 

“Still?” Cal asks. “We don’t get clearance, we can’t know where Dad is, but we’re expected to sit here and still follow orders?” 

She doesn’t mean to push back, she knows this is the one ask Apollo has made of her, but she can’t stop herself from bristling at the presumption.

“It’s better than being cut off entirely,” Talia retorts, but it’s not an argument. 

Still, Cal feels the need to protest. “You disagree with the Guild, but in the end what real change are we making if we do this? It’s selfish. It’s only thinking about ourselves.”

“You’re damn right,” Talia's eyes are blazing. “I'd burn down the Guild for you. But I don't give a damn about what happens to the rest of the world, Guild or monster, Calliope. They are not my concern. You are, your brothers, and your happiness.” 

The conviction in her mother’s voice makes Calliope stand down. It’s too early in the day to be fighting with family, and there is the promise of a new dawn kissing the horizon. 

Cal wants to stretch her legs. She needs to run. 

“I can start with a quick patrol now,” she suggests quietly, as an apology. 

Her mother takes a breath, looks out the window, and nods. 

“That sounds good. Make sure you’re carrying something silver,” and Talia is turning away to go up the stairs. “I’ll go patrol tonight, then.” 

Cal nods, then thinks of a question. “Mom?” 

Talia stops on the stairs. Calliope thinks she looks regal, like a queen, and carrying the same number of burdens as a leader, too. 

“Do you think Dad will ever be able to really listen?”

Talia considers the question, really gives it a lot of thought. And when she answers, Calliope is not sure if the response is what she wants. 

“He’ll be back, baby,” Talia assures Calliope. “But your father has never been a perfect man.”

Early morning in Savannah swirls around Calliope. There is fog making way for her every footfall as she strides down now familiar streets. 

Calliope wanders. 

The city is quiet. There is a stillness that feels like something is on the edge of breaking, and nothing feels like shattering the calm. And Calliope is alone. 

Mist clings to the backs of her boots and she feels the shadows trying to draw her in, but the faint glow of the sleepy and slow sunrise chases her as she makes her way close to the river. She draws her jacket sleeves down over her hands and wades into the calm of the night.

The water is dark and calm, and there are bodies in it. That’s all she can think of as Calliope considers her reflection, rippling away. People have died. People will continue to die. 

Is she on the right side here? 

Or is the Guild right after all? Is there no room for leniency? 

Are monsters born or are they made? 

Cal doesn’t know. But the sound of her boots against the pavement is a reassuring noise, so she strides onward, watching the city sleep. There is something profoundly reassuring in the fact that she can still move forward; her nights are spent locked in dreams and her every recent conversation has referenced the past in some way, but she can still stand tall, roll her shoulders back, and make her way through the city. 

There is still a sunrise somewhere here. 

It is too early to be called day, truly. But Calliope likes this sort of half-world she has stumbled into, the way everything is just a shade more blurry than it would be ordinarily. 

The witching hour is dangerous, Jojo had always insisted. Jojo demanded all sorts of ritual protections before any real raids at this hour. 

But it’s nice to not see clearly sometimes. Calliope finds she doesn’t mind the way her vision is obscured from time to time — her body clearly seems to know the way. Her feet keep her steady, her core is engaged as she breathes, body poised like a dancer. 

Her longest standing ally has been the strength she knows she possesses — it’s comforting to realize the severings have not done permanent damage to her greatest weapon, the one every always seems to forget about. 

She’s not stoic, not really; Calliope has grown up in a home where emotional exploration was never the norm. Her siblings are tough macho men, her father is immovable as stone, and her mother is as mutable as wind, but there is no room for confusing mess in the midst of all of that energy. Calliope has learned to reel it in, to consider everything she feels in her own head before she shows anyone any version of her truth. 

And that means she has learned how to listen to herself, at least a little bit. 

So when a tug in her gut tells her to look up, she does. 

At first she doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She’s found her way to River Street, and the ghosts of sleepy paddle steamers loom from the mist, purposeless without the influx of tourists at this time of day, lining the view of the water. But to Calliope’s left, Rousakis Riverfront Plaza looms low and dark. The historic buildings are not as massive as some of the other property lining the waterfront, but they’re well kept, and even enough that any aberration is immediately noticeable. 

Which is why Calliope’s heart jumps in her chest at the sight of a small figure sitting forlornly, hands braced, on the edge of one of the last buildings in the row. 

It’s a figure she recognizes. Someone she has memorized all too easily. 

Just like before, her feet know the way before her brain can catch up. She’s swinging herself up onto rusty fire escapes and climbing quietly up ladders, until she reaches the roof. Calliope doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t even consider giving Juliette space right now. 

It’s before daybreak, and even from the ground, she could see that Juliette is too damn close to the edge. 

All night, there’s been something propelling Cal to the riverside, to this very spot, and as she approaches Juliette quietly, measured footsteps, loud enough that even the most distracted vampire would be able to hear her coming, Cal hopes that whatever force has been guiding her also knows how to apologize. 

She knows she must, and unlike Tess, this apology feels like it might fall out of her mouth, untethered and all out of order. Calliope has too much in her head that she needs to say sorry for. She will never be able to express how much she regrets the damage she’s done. And she doesn’t even know where to start.

But maybe the force that led her here, whatever tie that binds her to Juliette, even still, has the power to fix things. 

Because it has to be some link, something otherworldly, that the Guild, with all their centuries of magic and fighting, can’t crack. 

It’s late now, or early maybe, and from her posture, Calliope thinks Juliette may have been sitting here, staring over the water for hours. 

She doesn’t know how to start the conversation. Every little word feels insufficient. How can she reintroduce herself to someone she has already known, already hurt? 

Was this how it was for Juliette, the first time? All of the watching and wanting from afar, feeling uncertain? 

No, Cal corrects herself quickly. It was nothing like this. Juliette has never deserved the burden of guilt and blame that Cal has draped over her own shoulders. Juliette was a girl who wanted, and she was punished for it. 

And that’s the basis of all the vampire stories, at the end of the day. A creature that wants to be as close to human as possible, that takes the lifeblood from other creatures to give itself a half-life and a hope at living. A creature that wants, that is all the more frightening for having wanted. 

Juliette isn’t so scary. She looks small, silhouetted by the deep darkness of the sprawling river in front of her. She’s fragile-looking — Cal is afraid that any breath of wind will launch her forward into the unforgiving arms of the street below. 

Cal doesn’t know what to say, but she knows she has to say something, so she opens her mouth and hopes Juliette understands that she’s trying. 

“Jules…” 

And Juliette tenses, every line in her body going hard. Her legs, which were swinging lightly, hitting the edge of the roof where she’s sitting, stop moving with a thud. Her hands, which were resting lightly against the edge, brace for impact. 

Still, Calliope inches forward. 

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Juliette grits out, her voice tight. “Go away.” 

“No,” Calliope says, apologetically. But she’s firm. She’s not going to turn away now unless she is made to. 

“Please?” Juliette asks, and it’s pleading. Calliope inhales sharply, but she hopes Jules doesn’t notice. 

Instead, she gets closer, but not close enough to touch. Calliope approaches the edge of the building, and looks over at the ground that looms below, a gaping maw waiting to swallow Juliette whole. 

Calliope sits on the edge too. 

“I’m just gonna sit here,” she says. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Juliette laughs bitterly. “Do you?”

And it’s a cruel reversal of the conversation they had the night Cook died, when Calliope had gotten her first glimpse of what Juliette had the potential to be. It’s an unfair reminder of that night, the peach tree, and how they had ended the whole ordeal in a bed, together, wrapped up with one another. 

It hurts her to think about, so Calliope can only imagine how much it needles at Juliette. She decides to be honest. 

“I do,” she addresses the open air between them. “I have a lot to say.” 

Juliette’s gaze isn’t on her, but Cal can feel it turn cold. “And if I don’t want to listen?”

“Then you don’t listen. Whatever you want.” 

“I want you to leave,” Juliette emphasizes slowly. “I want to be here alone.”

Cal just shakes her head. Neither of them are looking at the other, but Calliope is hyperaware of where her own body ends and where Juliette begins. There is a current between them, and the inches between them are supercharged. 

The silence frustrates Juliette. Calliope can feel her getting jumpy, and she wants to do something, say something that will make Juliette relax. 

“I don’t want you here,” Juliette says, and there’s a tremble in her voice that she’s trying to mask with frustration. “You left before, can you please just leave me now?”

“I don’t want to,” Cal tells her simply, and Juliette is unsatisfied with that answer. 

“Why now?” she asks. “All that time, stuck in the dark and in my own head, not knowing if it was day or night, or whether I could swallow without slicing my throat open, and you had no issue with me being alone. What’s different now? The big bad monster isn’t tied up anymore, so they sent a hunter to take me down?” 

Calliope aches to pull Juliette in her arms, whisper soft apologies until Juliette can hear them. 

“No one sent me,” she says instead.

Juliette barks out a laugh — it’s wrong. It doesn’t hold the melody that Juliette normally does. 

“No one sent you,” Juliette repeats. “No one sent you.” 

The water begins to glisten, though there is still no hint of a rising sun. 

Calliope sneaks a glance at Juliette’s profile. It’s familiar, lovely even, half in shadow, the curve of her nose, the set of her jaw, the slope of her neck, long and lean. But the hardness in Juliette’s eyes is new. There is a guardedness here that Calliope hates. 

She hates herself for being the cause. 

So she speaks. She says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“When I was little, I read a lot,” Cal starts, not sure where she wants to take this. She doesn’t know if Juliette will even listen. “It was hard on the road all the time, and never getting close to people, but I had my books.” 

Cal chances a look over at Juliette, but Juliette’s mind is miles away. 

That’s okay though, Calliope thinks. She doesn’t owe me anything. But I owe it to her to stay. 

“We didn’t stay anywhere long — you saw my yearbooks, you know what I mean — but every school, no matter where I was, every city had certain stories that we had to read, over and over. It was always a version of the same thing, where two people would fall in love, they’d get to be together, and then they would fall apart.”

Calliope breathes in her nose, out her mouth, and tries to stop herself from rambling, just get the words out and not spew any sort of emotion onto Juliette. 

Juliette digs her fingers into the crumbling edge of the building, picking at the pebbles that emerged from the concrete. Her fingers are red and raw, and Cal sees a spot where Juliette’s nail begins to break. She longs to be able to reach out a hand, cover Juliette with tenderness. 

Instead, she swallows hard. “I never got close to anyone, we were gone too soon. So it was me and my brothers and my parents, and occasionally my parents’ friends, when they were hunting with us. We’re close, because we’re all each other has had for most of our lives. It wasn’t ever a question about choosing them because that decision had been made for me a long time ago. And I’ve read too many tragedies. I thought I knew how this was going to end.” 

“You knew the ending?” Juliette’s hoarse voice catches Calliope by surprise. 

“I…” Cal trails off, really thinks about it. “I thought I knew how the story was supposed to go.” 

Juliette hums, low in her throat. Her shoulders are slumped and she seems resigned. “And how was that?” 

“We’d get rid of all the monsters,” Calliope says simply. She looks up, and she knows Juliette feels the weight of her gaze by the way Juliette shrinks back slightly. 

Calliope knows it must be impossible for Juliette right now to be this close to her. She knows it’s at least a little selfish. 

But at the same time — there’s no way she sees Juliette in possible danger and doesn’t act. Not anymore. Not ever again.

“I read happily-ever-afters all the time,” Cal muses, and she looks down at her dangling feet, watches the glint of the water in front of her, and realizes she can see it a bit clearer now. “But you never see what happens after. And I guess I don’t like the not knowing.” 

“How’s getting rid of monsters going?” Juliette asks wryly. She is speaking to the brick lined streets far below, but Calliope can still hear the torn edges of Juliette’s voice waver with effort. Behind every word, Calliope can hear the echo of Juliette begging for the hurt to stop. She doesn’t think the sound will ever go away. 

“We were looking in the wrong places,” Calliope tells her, and it’s the truth. 

At that Juliette looks up once, sharply. She is not breathing; Cal sees stillness settle into all of the lines of Juliette’s body, usually so fluid. This rigidity is the mark of a broken thing. 

There is a soreness underlying every movement Juliette makes, like she has relearned how to move her body carefully, like she is trying to minimize the impact each movement has on screaming muscles. It is like Juliette has had to relearn how to hold herself now, all patched back together. The scars are not visible, but Calliope remembers where they should be, and that is worse.

But she does not drop Juliette’s gaze. The challenge there is obvious. 

Can you still look at me? Do you dare? Knowing what we know now, being where we are, on opposite sides of a war that you dragged me into, will you still look? Will you let yourself?

And just as quickly, just as sharply, Juliette looks away. 

They are quiet there, and the hush settles around them like a mantle. It lands heavily on Calliope’s shoulders and she hopes to be Atlas in this metaphor, hopes she can shield the rest of the world from the brunt of bearing the sky. She hopes she is strong enough to withstand it.

“Would it hurt?” Juliette breaks the silence, musing aloud. Calliope follows the trajectory of Juliette’s eyes, focused back on the middle of the plaza well below them. 

“Jules,” she says, and there is a bite in her own voice that shocks her. 

But Juliette laughs, a tinny thing that rings hollow in Calliope’s ears. “I wouldn’t die, remember? It wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Still…” 

“You don’t know how to kill me, Calliope,” Juliette says, hard, her eyebrows drawing together to meet, before her expression smoothes out. It’s so quick, the switch, and Calliope feels whiplash at how softly Juliette speaks next. “I’m just…do you think it would hurt?”

“Juliette,” Cal says, because it is all she can think to say, all she can do to keep from pleading. 

Because really, what can she say here? 

I don’t want to see you hurt — but it’s too late for that. 

I couldn’t stand if anything happened to you — but Juliette won’t believe that anymore, no matter how true it is. 

Don’t say that — but Calliope has said worse, has promised vengeance she no longer needs. 

Her own words echo in her head: “I will spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how to kill you and every Legacy like you.” It pounds through her skull, and she hates not having the right way to fix things. She doesn’t know how to do this. 

“I used to dream,” Juliette’s quiet again, barely audible, but every nerve in Calliope’s body is keenly attuned. “Of being really human. Of having a normal family that didn’t keep blood in the coffee pot, and didn’t have weird rituals when I would come of age. Normal siblings. I used to think of crying real tears and eating lunch with Ben, and I thought if I could have all of that, I’d finally be really happy.” 

She stops, and Calliope almost lunges forward, leans in for more. The despair is thick between them.

“I just want everything to stop now, I think. I don’t want dreams. I just want to not be like this anymore.” 

Calliope has never felt so utterly useless. The truth doesn’t feel like enough; she tells it anyway.

“I keep dreaming about you,” Cal tells her. “My dreams are us.”

She doesn’t admit that it is often her most awful regrets, replaying on a loop, as she stands frozen, incapable of changing a damn thing, trapped in her own body and screaming for herself to stop.

Juliette is silent. 

Her dream was me too, Cal realizes. She thinks of us too. And I took that from her. 

“Mostly, I dream of blood now,” Juliette’s words come out throaty, like she’s choking on them. “And I drown in it, it covers my throat, then my mouth, then my nose, and it’s good at first, I’m not thirsty in these dreams, but then it fills me up, and it’s sour, rancid, and I start to choke and-” she breaks off with a gasp and Calliope’s breath is caught in her chest, stomach twists and she hurts. 

And she can’t help it. Juliette is hyperventilating now, and she’s too close to the edge. Her seat is slipping, and Calliope reaches out-

She has a hand on Juliette’s shoulder and is squeezing hard and Juliette is pulling and pushing and squirming away, but she’s crying, and there are bright red streaks on her face. 

“Get away from me, I’m-” Juliette’s words catch in her throat and she breaks into sobs. The shattered pieces stab at Calliope’s every exposed wound. “I’m a monster, I’m a monster, get away.” 

And Calliope moves in closer, tries, but Juliette is fighting her and she won’t do anything to trap Juliette again. Juliette’s sobs wrack her body and Calliope watches the girl she loves crumple in front of her. 

But Calliope’s hand is still resting softly on Juliette’s shoulder, she hasn’t shrugged it off yet, and slowly, gently, Calliope trails her hand down to meet Juliette’s. 

She tries to link their fingers, join their palms, but Juliette reacts like she has been burned one too many times — she has, Cal thinks, and hates herself more — and Juliette hisses. 

Panic blooms wild in Juliette’s eyes. “You have to leave, Calliope.” 

She is insistent. But Calliope is stubborn. 

“I’ll sit further away, but I’m not leaving you until I know you’re safe.” 

“I’m not fucking safe,” Juliette spits the words. “I’m not safe for you.” 

Calliope levels her with a look, and she hopes she is channeling all of her mother’s confidence, all of Talia’s finality. “Whatever happens here, I deserve it.” 

Juliette laughs again, and this time it is unmoored in a disconcerting way. “Do I?” 

At first, Calliope thinks Juliette is being self-deprecating. Do I deserve to take the revenge I’m owed? 

But she realizes — even with a spear in her hand right now, she wouldn’t be able to stake Juliette. 

She hasn’t been capable of it, no hurt under her hands, no sullying of Juliette’s smooth skin through her. 

And Calliope realizes what Juliette means. Do I deserve to see you broken in front of me? Do you think that would make things better? 

Calliope remembers how futile Juliette’s offer had been, the night everything had happened. How Juliette had offered her heart up, pressed close to the silver spear, and told Calliope to do what made her feel best. And Cal thinks about how there was nothing in the world that would make things alright. 

Yet here she is, offering her own body as penance. Juliette deserves more than the recompense Calliope thinks she can provide, more than an outward brokenness to absolve Calliope of her sins.

Because at the end of it all, Calliope still does not think Juliette can kill her. No matter what has happened, no matter if it is Jules draining all of the young men in Savannah, Cal has faith —  Juliette will not kill her.

And any hurt can heal, eventually. 

Any hurt Juliette could cause — it wouldn’t be pain enough to make up for the nightmares.

“You deserve for me to give you what you need,” Calliope says finally. She pulls her hand away, and Juliette is clutching at her own chest, chin tucked in. She won’t look up, the bottom half of her face dripping with tracks of half-dry blood, and Calliope wants to be the one to wipe it away. 

“I don’t…” Juliette trails off.

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Juliette mumbles, forces out between shivering lips. The panic has taken hold of her limbs and she trembles. 

Calliope raises her hands, and slowly takes off her jacket. Juliette watches her, wide-eyed, animalistic in the way she cowers. 

“I’m just setting this here,” Cal says carefully, and she sweeps the warmth around Juliette’s shoulders, hoping it will help somehow. 

Juliette ducks her head, and buries her face in one sleeve, hiding from Calliope, and Cal watches as Juliette takes a few steadying breaths. 

Somehow, unfairly, even in the dim light and with the streaks of rust colored tear tracks beating a haphazard path down her face, Calliope thinks Juliette is beautiful. She is not even the slightest bit monstrous. 

Juliette is scared. 

The realization is crushing. Juliette’s reckless abandon propelled Calliope into action like nothing else, and now, seeing Juliette so hesitant, so reluctant to make the wrong move, taking steadying breaths before continuing to speak — it is all so wrong. But Calliope looks at herself too. She is not running at the first sign of trouble. She is sitting close beside it, hoping she can help it heal. 

They’re both more broken here, both worse for the wear, but there is still a balance between them — Calliope can see it. 

When Juliette lifts her head this time, the waver in her voice is gone, and she has moved into bitter anger. She shifts in her spot, and Calliope gets the hint, scoots further away, and waits. 

“You know you’re the first person I…” Juliette’s voice trails off meaningfully. “When I kissed you. When we touched. I wouldn't have done that if it didn’t mean something.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cal says earnestly, but it doesn’t feel like enough. 

“I don’t want an apology,” Juliette shakes her head. “I need you to understand. You put these brick walls up," Juliette's hands fist in her hair and Cal can see a hunger grow on Juliette’s face. "I clawed and scratched and tried but you couldn't let me in, and then you fucking got me kidnapped, Cal." 

Cal's eyes are sad, wet, and wide. "I know."

"So why do I still think about you?" Juliette cries. "Why couldn't I bite you, back at Oliver's? Why can't I do it now?"

"I don't know," Cal answers honestly. "Why couldn't I bear to see you tied up in our basement?" 

Juliette's laugh is acid. "You left me for two weeks, Cal. Don't pretend you're some hero."

"I've been learning that," Cal turns to face the horizon as it bleeds a bloody red into the sky, the underside of every cloud catching light. A storm is building, ready to hit Savannah and the air between them is electric. "I can't be the hero I dreamed of being while also being a hunter like my father."

Juliette turns away too, and it’s obvious she doesn't know what to say. Good? Don't torture people? Cal knows the excuses are pitiful, that there are none, not really, but there’s nothing more to say; it cannot be explained away. It is not something she wants forgiveness for. But she wants to make it better, however she can. 

“You really hurt me,” Juliette says finally and there's nothing more to it than that. 

“I did,” Calliope says, and she knows Juliette can hear the waver in her voice, even as she feels Calliope’s gaze holding steady. “I know I did. And I’ll never be sorry enough.”

Juliette huffs out a shaky breath through her nose. 

Calliope continues. She realizes, finally, just how permanent this fissure might be.

“I know sorry can’t fix everything. If you really want me to go, I’ll go.”

And she doesn’t want to, she can’t bear the thought of abandoning Juliette to the dark, not welcoming the coming day, and the rest of the days to follow with Juliette by her side. Calliope can’t fathom a world where she leaves Juliette willingly. But everything Juliette has said on the roof has been a reminder at how completely helpless Calliope really is. She is no match for the weight of this; not even the spring of her youth can buoy her here.

Jules doesn’t say anything. So Cal moves as if to get up. 

And Jules makes a tiny little sound. 

It’s a swallowed down sob, but Juliette is still perfectly still. Calliope freezes. 

“I can…” she fidgets awkwardly, half sitting, half standing. Juliette does not move, so Cal does what her heart is screaming for her to, and sits. 

Juliette does not speak, but Cal watches her carefully for a reaction, and there is no flicker of displeasure. 

Calliope settles back out and rearranges herself. They had moved away from the very edge in the midst of Juliette’s panic, and they have found themselves in the corner of the rooftop. Juliette has Calliope’s jacket draped across her back, dwarfing her entirely, and her face is pressed against the sleeve. Her back is leaning against the lip of the roof, and Calliope sits to her left. They are facing perpendicular directions, and Calliope cannot help but think that it’s another sign — no matter what they do, their paths are meant to cross. They are linked. 

Even if the bond does not exist. 

Cal glances to her right. The river is that direction, and so is the sunrise, first rays of morning  painting light across Juliette’s profile. She looks so young in this light, without the harshness of the full day bearing down on them. 

“Did you know about the bond?” Calliope asks, before she can do something monumentally stupid like admit that she loves Juliette. It’s not something she wants to hide, but this is neither the time nor the place. 

Juliette doesn’t lift her face from Calliope’s jacket, and it may be misplaced but Calliope feels a rush of pleasure at the idea that there is still something about her that could be comforting. 

“The bond?” Juliette asks, and her voice is confused. 

“From a Legacy bite,” Cal elaborates. “Theo…he told us that the strength of it wears off after spending time around the vampire.”

“Oh.” 

“Did you know the bond went away?” Cal presses. She doesn’t know why this is so important to her, but she needs to know if Juliette still thought they were tied together magically or if they got to choose it, if they had chosen each other all the way through. 

Juliette looks up and stares straight ahead. She isn’t looking at Calliope, but she isn’t avoiding the sight of her either. 

“There’s still a bond,” she says. “Or maybe — there’s still something.”

“There’s something,” Cal agrees, and she turns to face out to where Jules is looking too, and the sun is turning the horizon red across all of Savannah. “Is that enough?”

Juliette doesn’t reply. Maybe she can’t.

And as the sunlight begins to tease at the corner of Calliope’s vision, she thinks about all of those books she used to read. 

She laughs a little, quietly, to herself, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Juliette’s head turn slightly. 

Cal looks straight forward, and recites the lines she knows by heart. 

“See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,” she says theatrically. “That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.” 

“What does it mean?” Juliette asks. She sounds tired, but there is a real question in her voice, she really cares to know. 

“It’s from the end of the play,” Cal explains, trying to think of the details of the rest of the scene. “Romeo and Juliet, I mean. The Prince is telling the Capulets and the Montagues that they’re responsible for the deaths of their children. That because of their feud, fate forced Romeo and Juliet to fall in love. It was never really about them at all. It was about the lesson they could teach everyone else.” 

“Is that us?” Juliette looks up and her eyes are dark, exhausted, but she’s making direct eye contact for the first time since her panic. “Are we the moral in someone else’s story?” 

Cal shrugs with one arm. She stares forward. Juliette lowers her head again. 

The quiet that settles now is less bristling with unsaid words, more cautious.

“Can you…d’you know any more?” Juliette asks. The request is hushed, tentative, and it sounds like she’s scared to ask anything of Calliope. 

Cal hums for a moment, then recites the Prince’s final speech. The sun is almost fully up, and the rooftop is a lot bigger in daylight. She and Juliette are a lot closer to one another than the darkness made it seem. 

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings; the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe…” Calliope trails off. She doesn’t want to finish the quote. 

But she can see in Juliette’s eyes that Juliette knows the words too. 

Never was a story of more woe/Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

The morning light catches in Juliette’s blue eyes and Juliette leans her head to catch more of the warmth. It bakes into the red tracks on her cheeks, and Calliope doesn’t find anything about it monstrous. 

Glooming peace this morning with it brings — this momentary truce that they have carved out, this corner of peace they have managed to find for themselves…it feels like it will never be enough. But it is more than Calliope had considered she might get. It is a reprieve and Juliette is letting Calliope have it.

Calliope can’t think of pardon. But she thinks of punishment. 

It should be hers, if anything. 

The blood Juliette cries — she is more vulnerable than she should be. Vampires, with all their centuries of posturing, can be brought down low with their messy feelings strewn across their cheeks, proof of caring painted on their faces with the very thing they need to stay alive. 

“I’m…struggling,” Juliette admits. It comes out of nowhere, but she does not take anything back, just lets the facts of it sit in the space they have created. 

Calliope tries not to let her surprise show on her face and just nods instead. 

“I’ve wanted…all the time, I’m thirsty now. I was supposed to be able to have my first kill and the thirst, it was supposed to go away.” Juliette takes a breath. “But I think…I think I may have gone too far. And I’m not sure there’s a way for me to come back. I don’t trust myself anymore.” 

Calliope watches Juliette intently, searching her face, and Juliette takes another deep breath, then looks over at Calliope. 

“I’m scared, I think. I don’t know if I ever really had it, but if I did, I’ve lost whatever parts of me knew how to be human. I don’t know if I can ever really be good again.” 

“No one can take your goodness from you,” Cal says immediately, and Juliette jerks a little. 

Cal is surprised by the force in her own voice, the absolute certainty. She can see Juliette mull over the sentence, roll it around in her mouth, and Juliette doesn’t quite nod her agreement, but she does not protest. 

She does not say anything else, and Calliope curses herself for opening her mouth at all, but it at least was not the wrong thing to say. Juliette has not turned away from her again. If anything, there is a strange understanding settling into all of the crevices and cracks in the ground between them. There is a starting point now. 

The wind picks up slightly, and Calliope watches the small waves rippling on the river. Her hair waves with the breeze and blows towards Juliette. 

She doesn’t think anything of it, doesn’t remember that there is any weight to the scent of her. But a strangled noise comes from the body beside her and Cal pays attention as Juliette shifts uncomfortably. Cal turns to her, and they are face to face, eye to eye, and neither one has any malice in their eyes. 

But Juliette brings a hand over her mouth — Cal can see the edge of a fang slip out, and there is fear in Juliette’s expression. Cal tries to be steadfast. she tries to be grounding. But there is a panic back in the curve of Juliette’s posture. 

“I can go,” Calliope offers, and Juliette shakes her head hard. 

“I can’t- I just have to get out of here,” Juliette blurts. “I’ve been too much for too long and your blood- I can’t-” 

Juliette stands suddenly, scrambling up. “I still don’t want to hurt you.” 

She looks little and lost, big blue eyes baleful, and Calliope knows, knows, she will never love someone else like this. She will never want to care for someone this badly. 

She will never again sit in front of the person she loves, and feel helpless like this. 

Even if there is more love waiting for her after Jules, Calliope knows she won’t choose it. Juliette deserves that loyalty. 

Juliette tugs nervously at the sleeve of Calliope’s jacket, standing uncomfortably in front of Calliope like she is waiting for a verdict of some sort, and Calliope realizes Juliette is waiting for something, some permission, before she leaves. 

“Keep it,” Cal says. Jules nods once, and wraps herself into the jacket more. Cal watches her go.

Chapter Text

Juliette stumbles down the fire escape, half falling, half clasping at the wrought iron so tightly she thinks her hands might bleed. All she knows is that she cannot be on the rooftop for another breathless moment. 

She doesn’t want to hurt Calliope. 

She needs to get the fuck away. 

Because her fangs are out and the scent of Calliope’s irresistible lure is floating on the wind and Juliette has not had to control herself in too long — there have been no stakes here until now, until Calliope was insisting she would stay. Until Calliope refused to leave her side. 

Juliette is dangerous now. She has the faces of her family, the fear on their faces, burned into her memory. 

She has killed people, and she has brought people back to life, and she has scared the most frightening monsters she knows. 

She needs to be further from Calliope. 

Ben’s face flashes into her mind, the way his eyes widened in disbelief when she had pushed him against his front door. She couldn’t control herself then, and he had been afraid of her. Juliette can’t let that happen with Calliope. It would be affirming every expectation of her Cal had ever had. 

It doesn’t matter how many nights she has sat upright, curled around herself at the end of her bed and tried to control her every impulse and worst instincts, Juliette is a monster. She is beyond saving. But if she can get away from Calliope, if she can clamber down and run, maybe it will be alright. 

And she has to be careful, too. It would be too easy to pitch forward and fall from the highest platform, but her traitorous body still would rise. 

There is no guarantee that she would still be herself after a fall like that; her instincts wrestled with her better judgment for control anyway. If she fell, she wouldn’t die, but she might kill the humanity in her once and for all. The goodness. 

Cal had said something — No one can take your goodness from you — and sounded like she meant it. 

But that couldn’t be true, really, at the end of it all. 

Because how can she be good anymore? 

Juliette’s hands are trembling, and she shoves them hastily into the deep pockets of Calliope’s jacket, and tucks her nose into her shoulder. She closes her eyes as she breathes in, and the scent of coconut and lavender work their familiar spell to soothe her beleaguered senses. 

It’s overwhelming, the way everything hits her so hard when she’s startled. The bright lights blind her, the rough burn of rubber and trash grate at the sensitive skin of her nostrils, and everything in the air is too heavy, when she’s like this. Her every sense is assaulted. 

It makes sense that the more vampire she is, the more she feels like this. The enhanced sight means she can spot the tiniest movement in her prey, the scent means she can identify their blood as it circles in their bodies, the weight of it so that she can understand the nuances of every nervous twitch from any potential victim. 

But now, when she’s trying to get away, it’s too much. Calliope surrounds her, and she can’t get away, no matter how fast she is trying to get away. 

She doesn’t want to hurt Calliope. Her body, after all the hurt it now knows, still longs to be soothed by Calliope’s embrace, still yearns for Calliope’s tenderness to play across her skin, still burns for the grip of Calliope tugging at her thighs. 

Juliette still wants her, despite it all. 

It’s one thing to say but another to execute — there is the sad fact that every time Calliope so much as shifted her weight, Juliette had to fight the urge to flinch away. 

Her body is still wary of every quick movement; Juliette still feels her chest constrict at the sound of metal clanking atop metal, the memory of chains too present to overcome. 

No matter how much her treasonous heart wants to bring Calliope back into the fold, her body simply wouldn’t be able to manage. 

And worse — her body wouldn’t be under her control. 

Her thirst has built to intolerable levels, just since descending from the rooftop, and Juliette is half in shock at how badly she needs to feed now. It was never this bad around Calliope before, not even when they had fought the zombie and Cal had gotten cut. 

That had been soon after the two of them had first learned each other’s body, and still, Juliette had managed to concentrate enough to let Calliope walk away. She’s not strong like that anymore. 

The strength in her body — it’s strange, it doesn’t feel like hers. It feels like something that overtakes her, something meant to protect, but not something she can access and not something she knows how to fight. Not something she understands

The strength in her now takes without consideration of consequence. She gets tucked away safely into the corner of her own mind, and her body moves, and there is nothing left for her to do except squeeze her eyes shut tightly and hold on. 

Sometimes Juliette feels like she might be able to outrun it. That was why she had made her way to River Street in the first place. She needed to be alone, and there was nothing more ghostly, nowhere more liminal, than a tourist street without any strangers to line it. 

If she hadn’t gone to River Street, she would have ended up at the Wooden Stake again, she knows it without a shadow of a doubt. 

But Elinor’s face, Oliver’s blood, her mother’s expression of awe as she huddled over Sebastian’s broken form —  it all revolves in her mind and had spun her in circles until she clasped her hands over her ears, the pressure reminding her that she was still earthbound. She had looked up at a starless sky, and noticed the rooftop beckoning. 

Juliette still can’t quite articulate what her plan was. She doesn’t know what she was thinking, just that the higher she got, the further away the ground looked. It couldn’t have been more than sixty feet, but it felt closer to three hundred. 

Maybe, if Calliope hadn’t shown up, she would have tried jumping. 

Maybe some things needed to be experienced, even if they hurt. 

Juliette balls her hands into fists. They are still buried in the pockets of Calliope’s jacket, and she knows if she lets go, they will still be shaking. She doesn’t know if it is fear or hunger that is making her shake; either way, her body is not her own. 

No matter what force is controlling her, Juliette has no say here, and she misses it. It was never something she considered, really, but knowing she had the option to execute great feats with the utmost ease was a comfort. It meant that in the worst case scenario, she would be able to take care of herself. 

But she couldn’t. She had failed there too. 

And all-too-familiar dread settles in her stomach, but she continues along the road, dragging one reluctant foot after another. 

Juliette does not want to leave willing prey; Juliette will not hurt Calliope. She is torn in two. 

The rooftop had worked, at first, to clear her head — she had been there for hours, focused only on the lure of the brick lined ground below, mesmerized by the possibility of ending it all, forgetting that she couldn’t and it wouldn’t work, not without- 

But for hours that passed like minutes, Juliette had been able to forget the monstrosity that twisted itself into her unwilling veins. She forgot how deeply she longed to burn and scrape and root the killer out of herself, how entirely she hated herself, and how utterly the loneliness that consumed her felt. 

She had been alone there. No one would have been any wiser if she had leaned forward and simply…tried. 

Juliette can’t explain why she didn’t do it in the end. Even before Calliope had made her way up to the rooftop, Juliette had time. 

But she hadn’t leaned forward, as easy as would have been. She had waited — for what, she still does not know. 

Someone who could see her and save her, maybe. Calliope, perhaps. 

Maybe she just needed a reminder of what living could feel like. The caress of the wind against her cheeks as she leaned over the edge, the slight thrill of anticipation that blossomed at the thought of a new phase of life, something to unstick her from the monotony of the everyday ache. 

But then there was Calliope, and that feeling was something new and different too. Gone were the immediate butterflies in her stomach at the mere suggestion of Calliope’s presence, but Juliette could not deny the slight flicker of hope that she still felt. The idea that she would fall towards Calliope was almost unthinkable, but still, somehow, there was something that had Juliette leaning, leaning. 

Even amidst all of the fear and panic and anger, Calliope’s presence was a breath of fresh air. The world refocused, sounds were sharper and closer, and Juliette could single out Calliope’s steady pulse drumming out familiar comforting rhythms. 

She knew those sights and sounds. They were home for a different version of herself, a girl Juliette thinks of fondly, and misses often. 

But the issue with Calliope, other than the unwelcome influx of unpleasant memories superseding every beautiful moment — the full brunt of her senses meant that she was choking back a ravenous wave of need with every kiss of wind. 

It had almost shocked her out of her reverie, the first hint of Calliope carried by the breeze. But Juliette’s mind had been so locked on the idea of jumping that she had ignored it, dismissed it as the longing of her feverish and unreliable mind. 

And then, the footsteps behind her had gotten louder, the scent had gotten stronger, and she could not push the thought of Calliope away like she wanted. 

Juliette could not blink away the image of Calliope; this was no dream. 

It was all worse before it was better, but she cannot help but hold onto the collar of Calliope’s jacket now, keeping it tight under her neck. The smell of lavender and coconut, etched into the comfort of the blanket on her bed still, brings her back to earth without letting her crash into land. She falls, but she does not hit brick — the smell is there to cushion her. 

Calliope is catching her. 

Juliette does not know if she can let this happen. It doesn’t feel like something she should allow, not anymore, but- 

It feels good. It is hard to push away this effort when all Juliette has been surrounded by are excuses and running away. 

Calliope used to be so good at running without a backwards glance, but on the roof, she stayed. It means something. 

Not enough to forgive, but it’s a start.

Somehow, some way, Juliette makes it back to the solace of her bedroom without mauling any innocent civilians on her way home. 

She considers her own innocence in all of this and her own culpability. She had approached the young men she fed on as judge, jury, and executioner. Is it innocent to approach a young girl alone, and try to coerce her into something more in a back room? Is it not pure to defend herself? 

Juliette cannot help but compare herself to Jack Burns though. She’s a natural predator, and so is he; she hunted those she felt had ill intentions and ended them before they could do lasting harm. Prevention is easier to execute than a true clean up. Could it be that his ideas were right after all? 

The vision of a young Calliope, staring up at her father so trustingly in the middle of the library transitions to the sight of Calliope looking up with adoration at Juliette herself in the empty school locker room, clasping at Juliette’s hands like they were in the midst of some sacred prayer. Juliette forces herself to remember the way Calliope had to look away during those endless hours in the basement instead.

But she knows she can try to fight with rationale for hours, turning the past weeks over and over in her own mind. It’s hard to fight the thing she was born to be and what she wants. And Juliette can’t figure out what that is anymore — does she want the human life she has always chased, or is it more rewarding like this, with no limits and no qualms about who she hurts? 

Can she let herself fall into that completely? Can she let go of the parts of her that care? 

She couldn’t hurt Calliope, even still. 

Does that mean there’s still hope here? 

Or is she predestined to fall into familiar patterns. She’s a daughter of Lillith, after all, another link in the long chain dating back to the origins of the world itself. Juliette doesn’t know if she has any choices at all. 

And she doesn’t know what she would choose, if she was allowed. 

Becoming the vampire she was born to be has been thrilling in the moment. There is no thought, no regret, no fear as she begins to feed. But when the rush of blood falls from flushing cheeks, she comes down hard and fast. It might not be fair to blame her father’s humanity, but the guilt crushes hard against her lungs. 

It is dark, no matter which path she takes. She can’t decide if it’s better to succumb to the seductive lure of falling into her worst tendencies, or if she should try anyway, push back against the night that surrounds her, and fight for the life she has always wanted, and maybe fail there anyway. 

Juliette wishes jumping could have done something, helped somehow. Maybe it would have been the shock that startled her latent morality back into action; maybe it would have silenced the rest of her fears and ended the conflict altogether. Maybe it would have quieted the rush of her mind for a moment. 

But if it hadn’t and she had been forced to lie, broken and bent, on the sidewalk until daybreak — that could have been worse. 

She is standing in the middle of her room, lost in thought, staring down at the rug below her feet. Juliette doesn’t know how long she has been standing there, but she thinks about the rooftop again. 

It would have been harder to stop herself from jumping if Calliope had not appeared when she had. 

Juliette tugs the bottom of the jacket she is still wearing and wonders if it should come off at some point; she decides not to worry about it. She glances over at her unmade bed, the covers ruffled and pillows spread haphazardly askew. Lavender and coconut linger in the room, and she can’t help but credit the unprecedented calm that sweeps through her to the scent of Calliope that yet lingers in her space. 

Crawling on her knees up onto her bed, Juliette stares down at where her head is meant to rest. She can’t remember the last time she had a good night’s sleep here. 

Even before Calliope — and it feels like the past months have been a whole lifetime; Juliette can barely fathom that there was ever a before — she had been fighting thirst-induced migraines and nightmares that forced her to wake up panting and grasping for her first soothing gulp of blood. 

A car door slams and Juliette startles, sitting up straighter on her heels. Her window is open, and she isn’t sure, but she thinks she recognizes the low voices that are drifting in. 

She doesn’t want to look to see who it is, but she can hear the soft crunch of gravel. From where she’s sitting on her bed, she can barely see out of the window, and the building anticipation feels a lot like anxiety. But there is a cadence she understands as the footsteps approach. 

She hears Ben before she sees him. Juliette knows his heartbeat as well as she knows her own, and she understands it more than she understands anyone else. 

But she doesn’t want him to be here now. She gives her reflection a panicked look and thanks every deity she doesn’t believe in that her fangs are hidden for now. She’s not safe for him, and she had promised herself a long time ago that she would destroy anything that deigned to hurt him.

Juliette never expected that she would have to include herself on that list. But Ben is someone she will protect with every fiber of her willpower. 

He had apologized, the last time he was here, for not listening. And she hasn’t been able to focus on that too much, what with all of the absolute absurdity of the rest of it. 

But now that she’s seen Calliope and survived that…

Maybe she can talk to Ben. He might have answers she can’t see yet. He knows her best, after all, even through all of her secrets and all of the parts of herself she has had to hide to keep him safe. 

She still trusts him, Juliette realizes. No matter how badly it had hurt when he had assumed the worst, he has come back for her twice now. He has stayed and he’s come back for her. It’s what she would do for him too, if the roles were reversed, no matter how badly he had hurt her. There was something unbreakable between them. 

As if on cue, a pebble strikes at her window, and Juliette takes a deep breath, and moves to let her best friend in. 

He’s there at the bottom, pacing and looking over his shoulder, and the first thing she notices are the tired bags under his eyes. But his gaze softens when he sees her and his heart thumps giddily along in his chest. She watches his pulse jump, then relax, and his smile is warm and gentle, and she wants him to come and hold her. 

Juliette will bite her tongue if her body shirts powerfully enough to go for his blood; she will bleed herself dry if it means Ben can come and tell her how to clean up all of the messes that she has made; she will tie herself down if it means he will rub her back. 

“Letty,” Ben smiles up at her. 

“Wait a second, okay?” she tells him, leaning out the window a little. “I’ll meet you down there.”

She hurries down the stairs, past the shut door of the master bedroom. Juliette doesn’t think her parents are home, and she doesn’t think she knows what to say to them, not after what had happened yesterday. 

She’s out the side door quickly, carefully, and she looks for Ben, but he’s already striding towards her, his long legs eating up the distance between them easily, but he pulls up just shy of enveloping her in his arms. 

Juliette can see his arms twitch, she knows he wants to hold onto her and prove his affection; Ben’s love language has always been touch, a light nudge of his shoulders, tapping his foot against hers to get her attention, linking pinkies when they’re just sitting out on the grass at school, and cuddling in to each other at the end of hard days. She can tell that he wants to apologize with his arms this time, so that she can tell how much he means it, and she knows how much restraint it is costing him to hold back now. 

She appreciates the thought of it so much. He is being careful with her, and as much as Juliette hates it, she knows how volatile she has become, a cornered animal who needs gentle touch to draw her out of the recesses of her own mind. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, rocking slightly on his heels. 

“Hey you,” Juliette says, and the smile she manages is less forced than she had expected it would be. 

Ben worries his lower lip and looks down at Juliette, and she can tell he’s trying so hard, so she throws him a bone, opens her arms, and nods a little. 

And before she can prepare herself, he dives down and engulfs her in a hug. 

Her instincts begin to take over, brought forward by the quickness of his movement, but she swallows it down through great force of will, and convinces herself she is allowed to enjoy it. 

Juliette lets Ben envelop her entirely, the light pressure of his arms around her managing to push out some of the building darkness in her head. 

“Missed you,” he mutters into her hair, and she is swallowing around the lump in her throat before she realizes it. 

“Missed you too,” she says, and it’s not a lie. 

They hug for a long while, before Juliette shrinks away to look up at Ben. 

“I really needed this,” she tells him, and hopes he can see the sincerity in her eyes, just how deeply she means it. “I…haven’t been feeling so good.”

Ben nods knowingly. “I heard.” 

Juliette cocks her head questioningly, and Ben smiles, a small little thing that plays on the edge of his lips, before gesturing with his head around the corner. 

Juliette is wary of corners she can’t see around, nervous when she doesn’t know what’s waiting for her, but there is a scent in the air and she dares not hope-

They peer around the corner, and there is a familiar sports car idling in the driveway, a familiar head bent over the wheel. 

Before she realizes, Juliette’s lips are forming a familiar name but holding it in her mouth like a secret prayer that will disappear if ever spoken aloud. 

As if she can sense she is being summoned, Calliope looks up and meets Juliette’s eyes, like she cannot help but find Juliette in every room they’re ever in, in every space they ever share, in every universe. Where there's Juliette, Calliope will find her. 

Calliope was right, when she was talking about all of those tragic tales she had read in all of the schools she had attended, but for a split second, Juliette finds herself hoping that there are some universes where she and Calliope get to just be happy together. 

She hopes there’s a version of herself, human, unfanged, uncomplicated, that falls for the new girl in school, and gets to kiss her at a party. She hopes there’s some version of herself that gets to sneak out of the house to meet her girlfriend at some high school bonfire, and that they sneak away from the crowd to hold each other in the dark. 

She hopes there are versions of them that get to be happy together. 

There’s a split second where she wonders if they get to be happy together here. 

But that feels like wishing for too much, and, after all, there is still a flinch of anxiety at the weight of Calliope’s gaze. Juliette still feels like she might be punished for meeting Calliope’s eyes and for daring to maintain that eye contact. 

Even though Jack isn’t around, his presence looms large between them. 

But the bond, the link, whatever it’s called, it isn’t gone either. Juliette feels it in the pit of her stomach. No matter what name they want to call it, she can feel something tying her to Calliope. And judging by the way Calliope is staring back, almost sheepishly glancing between Juliette and Ben, Juliette can tell that Calliope is feeling something too. A pull. 

Calliope raises one hand in greeting, shyly, and something compels Juliette to return the gesture. She can almost hear Ben grin beside her, though, so she tears her gaze from Calliope, turns towards Ben, and asks, “Do you want to go upstairs?” 

Back in her bedroom, Ben settles himself comfortably in the center of Juliette’s bed, legs folded, and pats his lap. Juliette lays her head down, gingerly; she is still not comfortable being vulnerable, at the mercy of anyone else, but this is Ben and she trusts him. 

She breathes in through her nose, out through her nose, and reminds herself that she trusts him. 

It gets easier to remember that as he begins to twist gentle braids into her hair, massaging her scalp lightly, tugging soothingly at each lock of hair as he twists it between his fingers. 

With his free hand, he reaches down and massages away a concerted crease between her eyebrows. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly. “Are you upset she was here?”

“No,” Juliette rushes to respond. “Not upset just…did she reach out to you?” 

Juliette opens her eyes to look up at Ben, her head too heavy and comfortable in his lap to move. He nods once. 

“Showed up at my door,” he confirms. “Said I needed to come with her, that you needed someone, that you shouldn’t be alone, and that she didn’t think it could be her.” 

A weight drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought of lying like this with Calliope and Juliette feels herself stiffen slightly before she manages to make herself react. 

“She went to your house and brought you here?” Juliette asks, and the note of hope in her question is evident, even to herself. She wonders, vaguely, if she should be ashamed. 

“Mhmm. Gave me zero details, by the way. I don’t know what the hell is up with you,” Ben says pointedly. His hands have stopped moving, but are still tangled in her hair. 

Juliette averts her eyes and reaches up to move Ben into action, before letting out a puff of air through her nose. 

This was the difficulty about having people she cared about around — they asked questions about her and expected her to answer honestly. How annoying of them to want to check in. 

“It was nothing,” she tries to hedge. “I just wasn’t feeling great this morning and she found me on River Street.” 

Ben raises his eyebrows. Juliette doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s doing it, she can tell from the silence that he’s judging and he knows that can’t be the whole story. 

So she sighs and tries again. “Last night I…something happened, in front of the whole family, and I was…it was just bad, okay? And I didn’t know what to do, and I was too scared of hurting anyone again, and so I ended up on one of these buildings, and I guess I was out there all night.” 

“And Cal found you there, on the rooftop?” Ben guesses. Juliette feels a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, but she nods. 

“I told her to go, but she wouldn’t. She-” 

“She was worried about you,” Ben finishes. “We’ve both been worried.” 

“She shouldn’t be.” 

Juliette almost doesn’t recognize the timbre of her voice, but it’s firm, solid, something that sounds so much like Elinor when she’s directing the full force of her persuasion on some poor unsuspecting soul. 

Ben inclines his head slightly. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve seen her. She’s been completely preoccupied thinking about you.” 

“It doesn’t change anything.” 

“No, it definitely doesn’t,” Ben says, and his braiding resumes quickly. 

Juliette thinks for a second, and then says quietly, “She didn’t have to stay.” 

“No,” Ben agrees. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive her.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“But…” Juliette is hesitant. “Is it wrong if I do? Try to forgive her, I mean. Someday.” 

Ben goes quiet, but his hands keep moving, keep laying tidy braids into Juliette’s hair, and she feels him weigh his words. 

“That’s not for me to say, Letty,” and Juliette wishes he would just tell her exactly what to do. “But I’ve spent enough time around her to know how badly she regrets it all.” 

“Regret doesn’t do anything,” Juliette says sharply before she can stop herself. 

“No,” and Ben is gracious in his reply. “It doesn’t mean anything without a change in behavior. Has she done anything different?” 

Juliette thinks. But she doesn’t have to think hard. 

Calliope had not run at the first sign of hardship. She had sat down and listened and stayed. And she apologized. She had said she was sorry.

It was a start. 

Ben doesn’t probe further in the silence, but lets it sit comfortably between them as Juliette weighs everything. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive her, but there’s a part of me that wants to,” Juliette accepts finally, thinking out loud. 

“Wait until you’re sure,” Ben advises. “Don’t do it because you think you have to. She was a part of something awful, and she’s sorry, but it doesn’t erase the fact that it happened and you were hurt.” 

“I think they broke me,” Juliette whispers, pressing her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see Ben’s face fall. 

“No one could break you,” he says, and he is so so gentle as he brushes a fingertip across her cheekbone. “You’re the strongest person I know. And Calliope knows that too.” 

“I’m trying,” Juliette tells him. 

“And you’re doing a damn good job,” he replies fiercely. 

Juliette leans up a little to be able to hug the parts of Ben she can reach, which ends up just being his thigh, but he laughs, leans forward, and covers her with his large frame. 

“You’re my best friend, Letty. I’m here for you, even if I’m a dumbass who can’t stop running his mouth, okay?” 

“I love you,” Juliette mutters against Ben’s thigh. He hums his response, before pulling away. She glances up at him and blinks at the change in his expression. 

“Still though, I have to ask…” Ben looks at her with a Cheshire Cat grin. “Whose jacket is that that you’re wearing? It’s a nice one, is it new?” 

Ben spends the night, and it’s just like old times. They cuddle close, talking all night, and admitting their fears and hopes under the covers. 

Juliette manages to control her thirst. She stays awake at first, but the sleeplessness of the night before coupled with all of the energy she had expended over the past few days have taken their toll, and before she realizes, she falls asleep. 

The morning light that pours in from her window illuminates her spooning Ben, one arm thrown over his front, and his hand a vice grip on her forearm. 

They wake up slowly, and Ben throws her a goofy grin that she can’t help but return as soon as he opens his eyes. 

It takes him another hour before he calls an Uber to take him home, and he leaves with another mention of how “nice that jacket is”. 

Juliette stares at Calliope’s jacket where it hangs on the back of her chair. It is a nice jacket. 

But she slept through the night next to someone with iron and blood in their veins and didn’t feel the urge to kill them — maybe she doesn’t need the security that Calliope’s scent brings. 

Maybe Juliette will be able to control herself without needing a crutch. 

She stares at the jacket for longer, then hops out of bed and pulls on clothes. 

Against all her better judgment and everything she wants, deep down, Juliette is going to return the jacket, thank Calliope, and then they’re done. Then they don’t owe each other anything. 

It takes her longer than it should to decide on an appropriate outfit. 

But when she does, eventually, it’s something comfortable. She can’t bear to be confined, wants the option to run if she has to, and she doesn’t want to have to slip her shoes off. Savannah in bare feet is not an experience she needs again. 

Every second she drives closer to Calliope’s house is a second her brain is screaming at her to turn around. Her hands are tight on the wheel, white knuckled. Juliette is pale already, but she glances at her reflection in the rearview mirror, and she looks ghostly. 

But she can do it. 

She can go back to the Burns house on her own. 

She’s a monster, after all. A creature of the night. Something strong, that can kill, rend, tear apart, with no perception of consequence or retribution. She does not linger on the past, she continues relentlessly. She’s a Legacy, after all. Of Atwood heritage. 

That means something. It must.

Juliette tries desperately to convince herself, and the light in front of her turns green without her noticing. She’s shocked out of her reverie by a sharp honk from the car behind her, and her first instinct isn’t to kill the driver, but to put her foot on the gas. 

And then again, maybe there’s still a little human in her after all. 

The drive feels longer than it is, the meager distance easily walkable, but Juliette needs the distraction of a drive, the focus that it takes, in order to keep her mind from the jacket laid carefully across the passenger seat beside her. 

Will Calliope even be home? Will she want the jacket back? 

Is this worth trying? 

But Juliette has come too far. She is in the driveway — if the Burns family is anything like she remembers, they’ve already been alerted to her presence. No turning back now. 

The only thing to do is go up to the door, after all. 

The tension starts in her shoulders, and Juliette breathes deeply through her nose once and again to try to loosen the chokehold of anxiety creeping into her throat. It makes her shoulders tingle, every inch of skin sensitive to the way the light touches it. 

But at the same time, her car is the only one in the driveway. The big black SUV that Juliette remembers vaguely is gone; Apollo’s little sports car which Juliette remembers much more clearly is missing too. 

This might be easier than she could have ever hoped. No one will be home, and she can just leave the jacket on the front stoop, in front of the door, and there will be no need for her to speak to anyone, no need to go inside or get any closer to the house, no need to think about any member of the Burns household at all — 

The door swings open. 

“You’re here,” Talia Burns is in front of her, tone flat. It’s not accusatory, but there’s something deeper in her voice, and Juliette shrinks back catlike, shoulders up to her ears. The jacket is in her arms, across her chest like a breastplate. Even here she hopes something about Calliope will be able to protect her. 

“Um,” Juliette says. It’s just as smooth and suave as she figured she would be. It encapsulates everything she’s wanted to be able to communicate to the family of her former captors, her ex-girlfriend’s mother, and the mother of what can sometimes be considered, in vampire terms, her son. 

Juliette gets distracted thinking about the fact that she and her ex-girlfriend’s mother sort of share a child, and Talia, impatient, clears her throat. Juliette’s eyes snap back up. 

She doesn’t know what to say to the force of nature standing in front of her right now. Even the first time she met Talia, in the principal’s office at school, it felt like the sunlight did her bidding, following the natural curves and arches of her face with the best possible lighting. 

Talia looked like a work of art, but something that held a darkness in it too; she was impossible to look at directly and impossible to look away from. Juliette can’t figure out where to set her eyes, so she decides to flit between the doorframe and Talia’s face. 

“Hello,” she squeaks. This is worse than when she came with Calliope, holding tightly to Cal’s sweaty hand, warm and reassuring in her own nervous grasp. She had crept in so carefully, but this time, despite all of the recent history bubbling between them, Juliette has been caught off-guard. 

“You want to see my daughter,” Talia states. It’s not a question. 

“Well…” Juliette wants to hedge, to say something worthwhile. She has all these questions that have been scattered through her mind, and she can’t find the words for any of them right now. 

There is much she would like to know from Talia — did Talia know, during the first part of those long weeks? How did she come to find out? And Juliette wasn’t supposed to know this, shouldn’t have heard, is surprised she even remembers, but Talia took Theo away after he turned.

If Talia could change her mind with Theo — that is, if Talia could go from reaching for a crossbow when she caught sight of Juliette to stealing her son away and taking him somewhere safe — does that mean she has changed her mind? 

How much did Talia help in planning Juliette’s escape? 

As she’s lost in thought, there is a clatter from behind the door, and Juliette peers into the house over Talia’s shoulder. Calliope is rushing down the stairs, tangled up and trying to pull her shoes on. She freezes when she sees her mother looking down at Juliette, and Juliette watches as Calliope’s eyes widen comically. 

Great, Juliette thinks sardonically. She can watch as Talia tries to murder me too. That’ll be all of the Burnses except Theo. I should ask for a punch card. 

But Talia does not look back. She barely acknowledges Calliope’s presence, except for when she holds out a hand to stop Calliope’s tentative approach. 

Juliette tries to surreptitiously take a half step back, wary. Talia is still watching her. 

“Mom?” Cal is obviously hesitant, but she tries to break the tension anyway. 

Talia shakes her head, continues to examine Juliette, and Juliette feels an uncomfortable red flush begin to spread on her neck. Her fangs are pressing painfully in her gums, but she is doing her absolute best to keep them contained; the last thing she needs right now is to appear a threat to the monster hunter in front of her. 

“Be careful,” Talia says then, and Juliette’s head snaps up. 

She’s confused and she sees the same confusion mirrored in Calliope’s eyes. 

“I’m…sorry?” Juliette asks. 

Talia shakes her head and averts her eyes for the first time since she approached the door. Juliette follows Talia’s gaze down to the jacket in her arms, and she nervously smoothes out a wrinkle. 

“You’re young,” Talia muses. “It’s not too late for you to come back.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Juliette answers, but she’s quiet. Talia can’t say things like that, can’t be giving hope about situations she isn’t involved in, can’t make promises like that. Talia and her daughter — two people Juliette can’t bear to have lie to her. 

There is something so certain about the way that Talia is standing now though, so solidly, her body poised in front of Calliope, whether conscious or subconscious, protecting her daughter. Juliette can see the firm, steady calm that Talia exudes, and her utter sureness of self emanates from her. Juliette wishes she could hold onto even a fraction of it. 

“I hope you’ll be careful,” Talia repeats, and if Juliette isn’t making things up, there is a hint of softness there. She can’t bear it. 

Juliette nods, takes a step backwards. Talia Burns will always scare her, but there is no malice in Talia’s eyes, not this time. And there wasn’t when Juliette saw Talia at Oliver’s house either. 

Talia’s gaze is piercing. 

“Thank you,” Talia says, and it may be grudging, but it is more than Juliette could have ever expected. It shoots through her, and she feels a strange delight in the pit of her stomach. The approval, no matter how small, means something. It’s not much but it’s something.

She can’t speak, but her mouth opens slightly. She nods again, at a loss this time, and looks up at Calliope for help. Talia turns too, and she nods at her daughter. Something unspoken passes between them, and Talia takes a small step aside. Calliope doesn’t even pause, just moves straight to the door, the edge held in her hand, and Talia stands in the back for the briefest moment, watching them. Calliope pays her no mind, but Juliette can’t look away. Talia steps back, and her face is half lost to shadow, but Juliette almost thinks there is the hint of a smile on her lips before Talia turns to go. 

“Hi,” Cal breathes, and Juliette’s attention snaps back to the girl in front of her. She backs up the very edge of the platform. The space between them is a precaution; Calliope does not look like she is being as careful as she should. 

Calliope looks windswept, hair blown across her face, and wide-eyed hope is bright in her expressive eyes. She looks young, none of her usual guarded demeanor evident. Juliette feels a pang of jealousy, followed quickly by some grief she cannot explain. 

Calliope smiles, the corner of her mouth turning up. Juliette looks down, running her fingers over the sleeves of the jacket in her arms. 

“I talked to Ben,” Juliette tells her, not making eye contact, but she looks up quickly to gauge Calliope’s response. Cal nods, and there’s a slight smile on her face. 

“I saw.” 

And duh. Cal was the one who drove him in the first place, but Juliette is not sure how to explain just how much that meant, how important Ben is, and how it felt to realize that she didn’t endanger everyone she loved just by virtue of existing in the same space with them.

Instead she hums quietly and hugs Calliope’s jacket closer to herself, taking advantage of the lavender-coconut combination that works so well to soothe her. It is not helping as much as she wants right now.

The pause in conversation is familiarly awkward, but this time Juliette is trying to figure out how to phrase “thanks for giving me your jacket in order to calm me down from a panic attack” into something less desperate. She twists the jacket in her hands and opens her mouth to speak. 

“You should keep it,” Cal tells her. Calliope’s eyes are on Juliette’s hands. 

Juliette shakes her head, protests, “Oh, no I can’t, I just-” 

“Keep it,” Cal insists. She’s being kind. “I have others.”

Juliette twists the fabric in her hands uncertainly. “I wanted to give it back.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Cal is being gentle.

“I-” Juliette cuts herself off. I don’t understand why you stayed, she thinks.

But she has nothing to lose, not really, not anymore, and Cal is looking at her in a way she can’t handle right now, so much emotion in those captivating eyes, Calliope’s posture fully fixed towards Juliette. So she says it, and flinches as it comes out of her mouth, but looks up at Calliope anyway. 

“I don’t understand why you stayed,” she tells Calliope. She is stating a mere fact — she does not understand. Every conversation they’ve had recently outside of dreams has ended with one of them on the verge of the other’s bitterness, and it doesn’t make sense. 

Juliette needs to know. The rooftop feels far away right now, and the emotions of the night are buried deep down, and-

Juliette just needs to know. 

Cal looks unsure, conflict marring the expression on her face. She frowns slightly, and Juliette forces herself out of entrancement when Cal speaks. 

“I…I think I’m changing,” Cal says finally. 

“To what?” 

Cal shrugs wearily, and she looks tired now, as tired as Juliette feels. “Something better I hope. I want to be better.” 

Juliette cannot help the bitterness in her voice. “A better hunter.” 

“A better person,” Cal rebuffs just as quickly, but with none of the bitterness, none of the obligation. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to see me, Jules, I…” 

Cal trails off, and the anticipation builds precariously in Juliette until she feels like screaming. What could Cal possibly say here? Why would she cut herself off like that? Weren’t they past this nervous skirting around the subject? 

It seems that Calliope comes to the same conclusion, as she says finally, solidly, “I want to be better for you. And you can leave here and never speak to me again, but…you’ve changed things for me. And I’m going to try harder now and it’s because of you. It’s for you, okay? I wanted you to know that.” 

“I don’t want that,” Juliette shakes her head. “I don’t want you to be this knife, this weapon, out hunting and saying you’re doing it for me. You helped ruin me.” 

Calliope’s eyes soften impossibly more. The brown in them is vivid and completely entrancing. 

“I know,” she says, so sadly, so softly. 

“You can’t do good things and just say it’s for me,” Juliette reiterates. “What does that do for me?”

She feels selfish even saying it, but there’s something about Calliope’s nobility that rubs her the wrong way. This newfound morality that Calliope is purporting to hold true feels like too little in exchange for Juliette’s sanity. She doesn’t know if it’s enough. 

“I know it’s not enough,” Cal says then, like she’s reading Juliette’s mind. “Is there ever anything that could be enough?” 

And no, there isn’t. No good deeds will change what happened. Juliette’s fingers dig into the material of the jacket more tightly as the tension in her chest compresses further, makes it harder for her to breathe. She shakes her head. 

Cal looks sad, but unsurprised. “All of my good is yours, from now on. It’s not enough, but it’s all I have.” 

She spreads her hands in front of her, palms up, placating. Juliette knows what it’s like for those arms to hold her, and she hates the fact that she misses it. 

“All of your good is mine,” she murmurs, repeating it to herself to see if she likes how it feels. 

“You’ve brought out all of the good in me,” Cal yields generously. 

Juliette shakes her head again, more violently this time. 

“No I’m serious,” Cal says. “I…nothing happened to me that was as bad as what happened to you, but when Elinor knocked me out, when Cook took me, it was awful and claustrophobic, and Jules, I was so scared. I’ve trained my whole life. I’m supposed to know how to handle things like that. But until you came and rescued me, I was frozen and worse than useless, and you made me better.” 

Cal looks over her shoulder, back towards where Talia disappeared, and she lowers her voice before continuing. “I still look over my shoulder before I walk out the door. Every single time.” 

Juliette doesn’t look at her, holding tightly to the jacket in her hands to ground herself in the moment, but Calliope’s heart does not sound like it’s lying.

“After the raid at Oliver’s, they decided I needed another severing,” Cal admits, sounding ashamed, though Juliette cannot conceive what Calliope might be ashamed of here. “And it wrecked me, worse than the first one. It hurt, but it was more the mind game of it all. They took me away from my body.” 

Calliope’s voice cracks, and Juliette definitely cannot look now. 

“It wasn’t the physical pain,” Calliope continues wetly. “It was that my body was failing me. It was so fucking scary to wake up and not be able to move, Jules.” 

Juliette feels stuck, feet planted, but the panic she expected is not coming. Something else — something warmer, less uncomfortable, but unfamiliar — is taking up residence instead. 

"I can only imagine," she says tearfully, and Juliette finally watches Cal's expression crumple. "What you feel now. Being here, looking at me."

“I-” her voice cracks on the first word, and Juliette hates herself for the weakness, but Calliope is waiting, patient, and it’s making a difference. 

“I was doomed from the start,” Juliette manages to croak out through tears she didn’t realize she was shedding, and she knows how badly Calliope wants to reach out. “It’s better if we- if I stay away, if I’m with people who can accept me for what I truly am and-” 

“You’re not a monster,” Cal interrupts, and now she does reach out. Juliette does not flinch away. She lets Calliope touch her, and she lets herself be comforted. She blinks hard, trying to force away the steady fall of the tears. 

“You’re not,” Calliope continues, rubbing soothing circles on Juliette’s shoulders. Juliette clings to the jacket in her arms, pulling it up over her nose to try to steady her breathing. “I know my words won’t change things, but I need to tell you I was wrong. You’re not a monster.”

Juliette has to look away, and the urge to confess all of her faults is overwhelming. “You don’t understand, I can’t…I’ve got no control, I’m scared all of the time that I won’t be able to resist the urge to feed if you’re around or if I’m upset or-” 

“We can work on it,” Cal replies simply, unflinchingly. “I trust you.” 

Juliette breathes out a laugh. “You shouldn’t. I don’t trust myself.” 

Cal tilts Juliette’s chin up, tenderly, sweetly. “I trust you, Juliette. You’re not a monster.”

“I’ve killed so many people,” Juliette can’t hold back the confession or the tears that follow. “And I enjoyed it.”

Cal nods slightly, but does not turn, does not back away in disgust like Juliette knows she should. “Okay,” she says instead. 

Juliette lets out a hiccuping sob. 

“Okay,” Cal repeats. “You’re not human. But that doesn’t make you a monster inherently. There is middle ground here.” 

“I don’t know if I can find it,” Juliette whispers out. The tears have choked her. 

“I’ll be here to help however I can, okay? And I’ll tell you over and over until you believe it.”

Juliette thinks. She considers their positions, her own arms curled protectively over her chest, Calliope at a respectful distance, but close enough to help, hands in safe spots, like she’s avoiding the parts of Juliette that have been hurt. 

“You’re not a monster, Juliette,” Cal says, looking Juliette in the eyes. “You’re so many things, but not that, no matter how bad things get. We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll get you back.” 

And she shouldn’t really let herself fall for this. Juliette, by now, should know better than to listen to Calliope and believe her. 

But those eyes are undeniable, and the care in them makes Juliette feel in ways she was convinced she was losing. She feels herself nodding and Juliette lets herself believe. 

She is unfathomably proud of the amount of control she exerted in front of both Ben and Calliope, but her thirst is overpowering if not attended to nowadays. With the security of Calliope’s jacket snugly around her shoulders and the exhaustion of tears, though not the wretched sadness that usually follows, Juliette drives to the Wooden Stake. 

She needs the option to blow off steam at the end of a strenuous day after all; her restraint has been stretched to its very limits and she doesn’t know how safe it is to push it any further. 

Leaving Calliope’s house has been confusing. It’s a place she knows well in some ways, the setting to some of her worst memories, and somewhere she cannot comprehend all at once. Sneaking into Calliope’s room that one night had been the peak of her time in the Burns household; everything else had been utter misery, just pain. 

But this, now — it was not bad. Her interaction with Talia included, she walked towards her car, replaying the conversations over and over, and she feels different now. It’s not good or bad, but the oppressive grief that clung to her skin has relented slightly, and she feels seen for the first time since everything happened. 

Calliope and Talia know, after all. Her parents, Elinor, Oliver, Ben — none of them know what happened. No one felt it like Juliette, but Talia saw. Calliope knows. To hear them promise her solace and offer her care — it is a part of the retribution she has been seeking. 

But she is thirsty now, and that problem is immediate, unlike the stirring of long-buried emotions that she has tried to ignore in favor of reaching her truest potential. 

Juliette glances around the bar, looking for especially sleazy prey — she desperately wants Calliope to be right, so she looks for the worst possible person, someone who will not be missed — and instead, she locks eyes with her sister. 

Elinor smiles something little and subdued, and nerves flare up in Juliette’s stomach, but when Elinor beckons her over, she goes. 

This is the first time she is seeing any of her family after the explosion of their fight a few nights ago. The moment where she had terrified them all. 

It seems that so much happens each day lately; she feels changed from the heightened panic of the girl that scared her whole family in so many ways. Juliette pushes away all of the ways she is still the same. Elinor gestures towards the stool beside her with a tilt of her head, and Juliette is compelled forward, hands fisted in the pockets of Calliope’s jacket. 

“Hello sweet little,” Elinor purrs. “Thirsty?” 

With a sidelong nod to the bartender and his speedy response, Elinor has an opaque glass in front of her in seconds, matching the one in her own hands. A sharp metallic smell hits Juliette’s nostrils and she can’t stop inhaling deeply at the thick red liquid Elinor offers her. 

“Ethically sourced, of course,” Elinor quips. “I know how important that is to you.” 

Juliette does not deign to respond to low jibes, settling onto the stool and taking a long, life-giving sip instead. Her shoulders relax back in relief. 

“Been a while?” Elinor asks, conversationally. 

Juliette shrugs half-heartedly, too focused on drinking down the nectar in her cup. 

“Or have we been expending too much energy with weird powers we don’t understand?” 

Juliette freezes in her attempt to drain the last dregs of thick viscous liquid, and sets her cup down. The bartender, ever attentive, refills the glass surreptitiously. 

“I um,” Juliette starts nervously. “That was pretty bad.” 

“Bad?” Elinor looks incredulous. “Bad-ass, maybe. It was beautiful to see, sweet little.” 

Juliette shakes her head. “What are you talking about? I saw your faces after…whatever…you all looked terrified!” 

“Oh,” and Juliette is getting sick of how soft everyone is turning when they look at her. “Oh, no darling. 

Elinor's voice doesn’t feel cloying or patronizing — it’s just kind. “I wasn’t afraid of you. I was scared for you.” 

Juliette shakes her head. “No, I saw you. You were scared.” 

Elinor tilts the glass in her hand and considers the blood for a moment, deep in thought, before she turns back to Juliette. “Maybe I was scared at first. It was…shocking, the way all of that power exploded out of you so quickly. But it wasn’t you I was ever afraid of, Jules.” 

“It was my power,” Juliette mutters, looking down at the glass. 

“Did you do it on purpose?” Elinor asks, a sympathetic smile toying at her lips. Juliette doesn’t understand the point of sympathy here. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then it wasn’t your power. It wasn’t you.” 

Juliette fiddles with the second glass of blood. “Then what was it? It felt like me.” 

Elinor considers her. “I always forget there is so much you don’t know.” 

Juliette shrugs one shoulder. 

“A full Legacy,” Elinor begins, her tone almost pedantic, professorial, “Has abilities. That’s not news. But I don’t think anyone ever really told you — your powers manifest after your first kill. It all depends on the circumstances. There was less travel, less innovation four hundred years ago, when Mother was new, and our prey stayed in one spot for a lot longer. Your first kill solidified what power you had so you could use it, honed in your special talent so it was easier to trap humans. We’re predators, after all. It was evolutionary.” 

Juliette takes in the history lesson, open-mouthed. Elinor laughs lightly at her look of confusion and pats Juliette kindly on the knee. 

“I can’t believe you never asked Grandmother!” 

“She wasn’t exactly coming around for dinner,” Juliette protests. “But wait, your power…?”

“It’s a sort of hypnosis, as far as we can tell,” Elinor answers nonchalantly. “My first kill took a bit of convincing.” 

“What about everyone else? Mom, Dad, Oliver?” 

Elinor scoffs a little, a slight expression of distaste marring her neutrality. “The older generation frowns upon using our abilities. Mother entered into a pact long ago to hide her power from the world, which is a waste if you ask me. And Dad and Oliver can’t do anything quite like us. Dad’s made, remember? And as for Oliver — we’re a matriarchy. He has all of the normal abilities, but power… no, not quite.”

“Wow,” Juliette frowns at the bar, trying to think how exactly her fight with Cook would lead to her dreamwalking. 

Elinor continues, “The more you feed or engage in anything really satisfyingly vampiric, the more you use your general abilities, the stronger your powers get.” 

“But mine are dreams,” Juliette asks, looking over at her sister. Elinor considers it, looking up at the ceiling. “I definitely killed someone in real life, not in a dream.”

“Were there any elements of a recurring dream there during the kill? Anything — or anyone —  you had dreamed?” 

And yes, there were. Calliope had been right there the whole time and had interacted with her in a dream just before. 

Elinor must see a change in Juliette’s face, because she looks satisfied when she nods. “And you would have seen some example of your power settling in, of dream walking more powerfully somehow.” 

The peach tree flashes to mind, but Juliette has other pressing questions. “My dreams started before though. I…saw things that were too real before I had killed anyone.”

Elinor nods pensively. “I’m not sure why your ability would be dreamwalking, honestly, but the dreams you have before your first kill can be pretty intense. Maybe that was the link — maybe the Emerald Malkia thought you were using those dreams the right way, and gave you more to sift through.” 

She shrugs slightly and takes another sip. Juliette hurriedly raises her glass too. She came here to replenish, after all. But her mind is full; thirst is the last thing on her mind right now. 

It explains so much, the idea of this power, the fact that she has had the most vivid, memorable dreams every night since her first kill, the fact that she has been able to communicate with people. 

But it’s strange, the power to infiltrate someone’s subconscious. Being able to see Calliope as a younger version of herself — it had been overwhelming. If she is more powerful now, as she is, she should be able to control it. Sometimes, power is not about reach, but rather about the ability to temper that reach. Juliette should be able to turn her ability on and off again at will, rather than being subject to the whims of others. 

At Elinor’s signal, the bartender is sliding them both another glass each. 

“Has this always been an option?” Juliette asks, feeling foolish. 

“Mm, but isn’t it more fun to hunt?” Elinor’s grin is wicked. “It feels good to convince someone to follow you out, doesn’t it?” 

“Elinor,” Juliette goes serious, looking at the fresh blood in her cup. She can taste the willingness, the eagerness, in every sip. Elinor was not lying; it must have been ethically sourced, whatever that meant. “How did I do that then? The other day, at home. My powers are dreams.”

Elinor’s expression turns sad. “You don’t know?” 

Juliette shakes her head. Her hands clench around the glass, and she feels an uncontrollable urge to break something beginning to build up, so she shoves her hands into the pockets of Calliope’s jacket. 

Elinor is still then, muscles tense in a way she does not have to often be. Juliette is unused to this stillness from Elinor; she can be predatory and ruthless and still in her steady judgment, but this stillness is different. It’s like Elinor is trying to break bad news in the nicest possible way. Juliette feels her anxiety spike. 

“What? What is it?” 

“That…sweet little, that was…” Elinor can’t scrounge up the right words. She fidgets with the glass in her hands, but Elinor does not fidget, so Juliette pretends like she does not see. “You pulled us into a dream. I think…I think it may have been one of yours.” 

Juliette can’t look Elinor in the eye, so she scratches absently at the peeling varnish of the bartop. 

“It was the most pain I’ve ever felt and it wasn’t even mine,” Elinor says staunchly. “You took us out of the corporeal world, so it wasn’t physical pain either. But we were in your dream, and it was dark and scary and I was terrified the whole time. By the time you brought us back, none of us could even stand.” 

“Oh,” Juliette says. What else is there to say? 

“It’s a miracle you’re still upright,” Elinor tells Juliette, like it's some new information and not something Juliette has to convince herself of before dragging herself out of bed every morning. “The power that exploded out of you hasn’t been seen in centuries. It’s why the Atwoods have the Emerald Malkia in the first place, the fact that our line has power like that. When Legacies are the most true versions of themselves — that’s when we have the most power.”

“Okay,” Juliette says. 

It’s not, of course, but she has no way to express what this means. This is acceptance of the highest magnitude, an acknowledgment of her pain and the fact that it’s real. It has become tangible. Elinor has seen it. 

“Have you talked to Mom and Dad?” Elinor nudges Juliette lightly when Juliette doesn’t say anything further. 

Juliette shakes her head. “What would I say?” 

Elinor dips her head slightly to the side. “I think they have a lot to say, actually. A lot to apologize for.” 

“I don’t want words,” Juliette says. “I need more than that.” 

From everybody, not just her parents. Changed behavior, not just platitudes in open doors. She leans her cheek against the collar of Calliope’s jacket. 

Elinor doesn’t say anything, just takes another sip. Juliette breathes deeply and lets Calliope’s scent soothe her before she opens her mouth to speak. 

But Elinor beats her to it. “Is that hers? The hunter girl, I mean.” 

“Calliope,” Juliette says, and allows herself the pleasure of feeling Cal’s name in her mouth. 

Elinor hums quietly. “She has brothers?” 

“Two,” Juliette confirms. 

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Elinor lowers her voice, her eyes flitting to either side to make sure the bartender is out of earshot, and leans closer to Juliette. “But I’ve heard rumblings that there are two hunters, one who’s like us now, on their way to a safehouse that Oliver has been linked to. I can…give you the details if you want to follow up.” 

Juliette knows Elinor was there for Theo’s death and she doesn’t understand why Elinor is playing this so nonchalant, but at the same time — 

Juliette is a little warm at the thoughtfulness Elinor is exhibiting. 

She tries to work out how this helps Elinor: keeping Oliver on the shit list is always a priority, but telling Juliette about Calliope's brothers doesn’t do anything for Elinor, so what’s the point, other than just being a good sister? 

It might be just that.

Juliette thinks about the people who she thought might understand her and all of the people who have proven they want to try. 

How Calliope is the one who brought Ben by. How Cal must have picked him up, called out to him from the driveway and convinced him that Juliette needed him, coaxed him out of his fear and promised him it was all going to work out. How Calliope was so sure that Juliette wasn’t going to hurt her, no trace of fear in her scent, no worry in her heartbeat. 

Juliette is not that certain about herself. 

But Calliope wants so badly to make things right, and so does Ben, even after Juliette was awful and scary and (worst of all, most heartbreakingly) monstrous. 

“Tell me what you know about where Oliver is,” Juliette leans in close and murmurs to Elinor. “I need to know where the Burns brothers are going.”

Elinor nods once approvingly, reaches out, squeezes Juliette’s thigh, and speaks. 

There is so much to think through when Juliette finally leaves the Wooden Stake, Calliope’s jacket tight on her shoulders. 

There is only one person crazy enough to help her process everything. 

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials the familiar number quickly, pressing her phone to her ear before she can back out. 

“Letty!” Ben’s voice is triumphant in her ear. “You’re calling me!” 

“D’you have a minute?” she asks, pacing slightly. 

“Of course, what’s up?” his tone drops and she hears a quiet thump. If Juliette closes her eyes, she can picture where he is sitting: on the corner of his bed with his phone pressed to his left ear. He is probably staring blankly at the BTS poster over his desk with a little crinkle in his forehead, wondering why she sounds so serious. 

The image and its clarity are comforting. 

“Am I doing the right thing?” she asks. 

“Um, now that you’re a vampire and whatnot, I think I need more context before I give you a blanket yes on that question,” Ben quips. “But on the whole, I’m going to lean towards probably.” 

“I- um,” Juliette is embarrassed to find tears choking her throat. “I was just wondering if I. Do I deserve to be happy anymore?” 

“What? Jules of course you-” 

“No wait,” she cuts him off. There’s a long pause, a loud silence as she gathers herself, but Ben is learning to listen. 

“I don’t feel clean. I’m Lady Macbeth, Ben, there’s blood on my hands and I think I’m going insane, I see it all the time.”

She takes a deep breath. “Everything’s supposed to have a purpose right? Like even bugs and shit can help things decompose. They fit into the circle of life and they do something for other creatures and like — where do we fit in? We have to feed on humans to survive. We’re built to hurt people, and I don’t want to hurt people, but I can’t let myself be hurt anymore, I won’t survive it.” 

Juliette falls against the brick wall, and her jacket makes a light scraping sound as she sways. 

“Should I go to Prague like my mom suggested? Is that accepting that there are things I can’t change? Am I being banished like Oliver? I feel- I keep feeling all of these things and they’re so massive, I think they might kill me, and I just need someone to tell me if I deserve to be happy, and if I can make that happen here.” 

Ben listens, and listens well. 

“No matter what’s happened,” Ben is forming his words more carefully than Juliette ever remembers him being. “You’ve been doing the best you can with the cards you’ve been dealt, Letty. There’s nothing that would make me actually lose faith in you, okay?”

A crackle travels down the line as Juliette takes a shaky breath. “Nothing?” 

“Okay maybe I asked Cal if you killed Noah, but that was back when I was mad at you, and I didn’t mean it,” Ben’s tone is light and joking, and by Lillith, she is so lucky to have him. She is so lucky that he loves her so much. 

“I just feel so lost,” Juliette admits, the first tear falling. “The last time I felt this unsure, it was just because I had a dumb crush, and now my whole life looks different.” 

“You still have me,” Ben says firmly. “That’s one thing that’s never going to change, okay? No matter what.” 

He pauses, and Juliette can tell there’s something he’s not sure he should say. 

“…And I think Calliope wants to be here for you too, if that’s something you would want. I know that must be complicated. But I don’t know, Letty, I think she wants to make up for it.” 

Juliette stares at her phone for far longer than she should after she hangs up on Ben. 

The screen is dark in her hand. She knows if she clicks it on, a bright picture of her smiling face, smushed close to Ben’s will illuminate her room. She wants to save that joy though; she leaves her phone dark and silent, and thinks. 

There is not much more to lose here. 

Ben is on her side, which feels like a weight off her back, a burden she did not realize had been tied to her chest, and knowing that he believes her, believes in her, makes a difference. Elinor understands, and that matters too. Even if her parents are not sympathetic, undergoing their own struggles and battling their own monstrosities, Elinor understands. 

Who else does Juliette even really have? Oliver wanted to use her. And Calliope…

Calliope is a conundrum. Calliope is a riddle Juliette does not know how to solve, words floating in unfathomable orders around her, making her head spin and her chest ache, and Calliope does not make sense. 

But she never did. That was part of the allure, at the start. The new girl, with stars in her eyes and a moonbeam smile, and Juliette was a sailor, using the night sky to guide her home. 

Home hurt. Home had taken her and broken her, and turned her into a used shell of her former self. 

But home brought her back too, pulled Juliette away from the edge twice now. 

And the bond tugs at her gut still, she can feel herself want Calliope. The vampire in her knows exactly what it wants from Calliope’s presence, and she can’t allow that. But the human side of her — Juliette needs clarity. 

Her hand tights around her phone, and the screen blinks on. Ben’s face looks encouraging, and Juliette knows he would want her to reach out here. She knows what he would say. 

Cal isn’t going to do anything first, he would tell her. She’s going to follow your lead. But she’s waiting for you, I promise. She’ll come when you call. Make your move. 

The first word takes Juliette an eon to type, and she almost hopes the long stretch of her immortality moves at the same pace, slightly out of time, where she can’t quite feel the cold fingers of inevitability grab hold. 

But the second word comes sooner, and the third just as fast. And before she knows it, Juliette is looking at a full sentence, a full question to send to Calliope, and bare her soul once more. 

She will try to be vulnerable with Calliope again. But this time, if it fails — 

The stakes are higher, that’s all. The animal parts of her are baying to be unleashed, and another heartbreak will tear down the gates that pen them. She has her humanity to lose when Calliope hurts her again. 

But she has to at least try. The message blinks up at Juliette steadily. She shivers suddenly. 

She sends the message. It glows languidly up at her, so she tosses her phone across the bed so she doesn’t have to look, begins to turn her back, but there’s a buzz, and Juliette is digging through tangled blankets to reach her phone, to read the message. 

Her own little question catches her eye first. 

Can we talk? 

And Calliope’s response is below, quick as anything and reassuring as her scent. 

Wherever and whenever you want. 

Calliope is already there. 

Her scent floats through all of River Street, and if Juliette didn’t know where she was going, she would be able to follow the traces of Calliope all the way to her final destination. She’s attuned to finding Cal in a crowd. At this time of night, when there is no one around, it is almost too easy. 

Juliette pulls herself up onto the roof slowly, allowing herself to make noise. She is moving slowly on purpose, to give herself time to adjust. She is not thirsty, but there is something about Calliope that drives her wild in every sense, and she will not be taking any chances now. 

Finally peering over the lip of the rooftop and seeing Calliope for the first time still dazes her. 

Calliope is already sitting with her legs dangling off of the side of the building, half turned to offer Juliette a small smile of greeting. 

Juliette feels shy at first. There is fear in her chest, and she moves at a glacial pace, but Cal moves slowly too, turns and stands so that she and Juliette are facing one another. 

Juliette can’t help but remember all of the times they’ve faced one another like this: the rooftop at school, in the park after the bonfire, in the middle of the street, just a few blocks away, in Calliope’s front yard…

And now here. Calliope is looking at her so dotingly that Juliette has to look away. 

“Should we sit?” she asks. Cal nods, and moves back to fold herself on the edge of the rooftop, arranging long legs with grace. 

Juliette is too tired to hold back. She walks over too, and sits close to Calliope, and when she hears Calliope’s breath catch in her throat, half choking in surprise, Juliette leans her head on Calliope’s shoulder. 

Cal doesn’t move. She doesn’t even breathe. And Juliette finds that this, now, is alright. Her body is calm but wary. This was her choice. 

Calliope’s hands are folded in her lap, and Juliette reaches to hold one, turning it over in her own hands, giving her something to focus on as she speaks. 

“Were…was it doomed from the start?” Juliette is quiet, but her question is piercing. 

She feels Cal breathe in deeply and waits as Cal thinks for a long moment, giving the question the weight it deserves. 

“I think everything that happened was building,” she answers finally. “This city has been a battleground for centuries before we got here.”

Juliette nods slightly, head moving against Calliope’s strong shoulder. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, surrounds her senses with Calliope. 

There is a prickle of fear as Juliette fixes her gaze on the horizon. She pulls lightly at Calliope’s middle finger. 

“You know what scared me the most, back in the basement? Because it wasn’t the pain of it. That hurt, but it was predictable,” Juliette confesses. “No, it was the feeling that each day stretched out into something never-ending. That’s what frightened me. And I think that’s what’s haunting me now, even here with you in front of me. I’m terrified of what might come next.” 

Calliope sighs. “I wish I could say something that would make it better.” 

“You can’t,” Juliette says. 

“Tess — she was saying something like that. That no matter what I say, nothing changes the fact that her parents are dead.” 

And Juliette is weary of other people, of the lives that they tie to her own.

“I didn’t do that,” Juliette tells Calliope absently. “I’m so sorry, but that wasn’t me who killed them.” 

“I know,” Cal nods. 

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone you love,” Juliette confides, like a secret. “I did everything I could to make the worst situations better for you.” 

“I know that too,” Cal says, and she brings up her free hand to tuck a loose strand of Juliette’s  hair behind her ear. Juliette doesn’t lift her heavy head from Calliope’s shoulder as she hears the guilt echo in Calliope’s voice.

“I don’t think you can understand everything I want to try to tell you,” Juliette doesn’t know how to be clear here. She isn't used to having all this empty space to spill out her messy feelings. she's not used to someone watching and listening without having anything else to add. 

When Juliette has been silent for a full minute, Cal redirects her gently, saying "I want to know, though. I want you to tell me, even if you think I can't understand it. I’ll do my best to learn."

“What do we do now?” she asks somberly.

Cal’s response is simple. “We rebuild. We do better than the people who came before us.”

Juliette lifts her head. “And us?”

“Us…” Cal trails off. “You would still want to think about an us?”

Juliette looks up. She hates the fact that she's crying, again, but she looks at Cal steadily anyway. 

"I want you," Juliette confesses, and her voice trembles with helplessness. "I want to be yours."

Calliope’s big brown eyes are devastated, even as they sparkle, like she knows there's more to come. "You are. You still can have me." 

But Juliette just shakes her head. "How do I trust you? Can we ever get back to where we were before? Did I ever even know you? And honestly, I don’t think I trust myself with you either."

And she watches heartbreak play devastatingly across Calliope's face, wide-eyed and honest here in front of her, but there is an air of inevitability there as well. She can't lie though; it is not about what she wants now, it's about what Juliette thinks she can bear. She forces a half-hearted shrug, laughs but does not mean it, and wipes the beginnings of tears from her eyes. Her fangs are not out — she does not feel threatened here. "Where do we go from here, Cal?"

Juliette pulls away completely and turns her body to face Calliope. “I lost my way.”

“I hurt you,” Cal retorts, and Juliette swears she can see tears. “So much.”

Juliette nods. The blame Cal is putting on herself is a balm here, but she wants to take all of Calliope’s pain at the same time. 

She feels like she has changed. This version of herself has known hurt, knows anger, but Juliette still hasn’t found what she’s looking for, and Calliope feels like an answer to a question she hasn’t thought to ask yet. 

“I deserved it,” Juliette is steady. 

“No,” Cal is equally steady. “You didn’t deserve what we did, not then.”

Juliette is quiet. “I might deserve it now.”

Cal begins to protest, but Juliette cuts her off. “No, Cal, I took advantage of what I was. I knew I was hurting people. It was selfish.” 

Cal moves to interject, but Juliette silences her with a look. “I’m not the good person I thought I was.” 

“Neither am I,” Calliope says. “We were wrong the whole time. It wasn’t about picking sides here. Things are different for me too. We hurt you and I didn’t protect you and I’m…” 

She trails off, emotion taking its place in her throat and getting the best of her. 

Now, it is Juliette comforting her with a soothing touch, and it’s almost a familiar feeling, Juliette being strong when Cal is weak. Juliette proving that Cal can lean on her when she doesn’t feel up to proving that she’s still strong. 

But Cal manages to swallow the tears down. “Trust is something you build, right? We found each other and we couldn’t keep away back then, but I didn’t know you. I wanted you and I wanted to make it work, but I couldn’t see a way forward.” 

Juliette doesn’t want to ask the question, but tonight is about being brave. 

“Do you see one now?” 

Cal doesn’t respond right away. 

Instead she brushes her thumb delicately over the edge of Juliette’s cheekbone, turning all of the sharp parts of Juliette into something that can be held. 

“I want you in my future, if you want to be there too. I’ll do what I have to for you, and I’ll prove it until you believe me.”

Juliette can’t contain the sharp inhale around her steady tears.

“It’s not going to be right away,” she warns. “I’m…pretty messed up.”

“I want to try,” Cal smiles down. It’s blurry, but Juliette can feel the warmth. “I can’t promise you forever like you'll have, but I can try for the rest of my little life.”

Chapter Text

There is a constant plinking noise against her window. It’s pretty annoying.

The noise invades her subconscious a bit at a time, but once she manages to place the sound — she’s awake. 

Cal sits up with a start, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. She hadn’t been asleep long at all, not enough to be dreaming, though she had wished, secretly, before falling into a comfortable slumber, that she might meet Juliette in the depths of a dreamscape. 

That would maybe be moving too fast though, if she’s honest. 

Juliette isn’t ready for any bold declarations, so Calliope will focus on showing her, building a trail of evidence to present to Juliette like she’s a jury. Cal wants the fact of her affection to be sealed and codified into law, made tangible, into something Juliette can have and hold, just in case she ever forgets. 

Instead, Cal will make little moves, unflinching at the nuances her well-trained body has been conditioned to fight against. Every hint of Juliette struggling with her thirst and Calliope forces herself into inaction. 

It’s the least she can do now anyway, sit and be still, and listen as Juliette tells her the things that have been plaguing her. 

Calliope is being careful now. She’s making promises she thinks she can keep. 

Juliette used to ramble. She used to talk with her hands and gesture and look earnestly up at Calliope when she was circling around her point, but now? Juliette is quiet and tired and still, the paleness of her face in stark contrast to when she was sick before. 

Because at least before there was conviction blazing in her eyes. Juliette knew who she was, before. She’s lost that now. Every word, every sentence, is measured and paced, and Juliette is cautious as she looks up at Calliope, never too long. 

Calliope still feels the weight of Juliette’s head leaning on her shoulder. It was a shock that Juliette would allow them both that little comfort, but Calliope knew how still she had to be to not scare Juliette away. It had worked then, on the rooftop, away from the world. There had been no other threats; Juliette could let her guard down for a moment, knowing it was only Calliope there with her, and knowing that, if the time came, she could best Calliope like she had done before. 

And it wouldn’t have come to that, at the end of the day, but Cal knows. She would have let Juliette do what she needed to feel safe through it all. That’s the only thing left for her to do to prove herself nowadays. 

There is an insidious guilt that bubbles up again, and it collides with the doubt that wracks her still. The Guild raised her and this guilt tastes like some bitter poison they have fed her, some senseless words she has long memorized and placed in the back of her mind like prayer. It will not do for Calliope to look to the community that the Guild has always provided the way she has always done; she has lost trust in their guidance. 

It is hard having to come up with answers on her own though. It unmoors her in a way she doesn’t really understand, but her childhood is a pier that she is floating away from, and there are sharks in the water. There is a latch that stays empty in the center of her chest, and the ties that are meant to bind her to something real have all frayed through. 

Calliope doesn’t want to lose her sense of wonder, but in a world of monsters, it’s hard to surprise her anymore. And the Guild promised miracles they can’t deliver. She wouldn’t believe them anymore. 

At the same time, though — Cal doesn’t want it erased from her life; the Guild is as much a part of her as the blood running through her veins. They have shaped her, mind, body, and soul. It would be an utter disservice to herself to dismiss the impact her training has had, especially now as she explores other avenues. 

Calliope may not want her tattoos the same way anymore, no record of lives that she’s taken, but she does want one arrow, blank, to mark that she knows exactly who she is. That she will never forget where she came from. She wants the conviction that is burned into her mind branded onto her skin too, so she can look down and remind herself what she is fighting for — a world where no innocents have to die. A world where hunters can have blank arrows, and the Guild is a community for those who work for peace.

Cal longs for the stab and tug of the tattoo gun she has heard buzz away in her brother’s rooms. She wants to wear her signifier proudly. She won’t let the shameful parts of her past mar her future, only shape the change in it. She decides what comes next; she allows the Guild to know, but not own, her. 

Sometimes, Calliope thinks of the younger version of herself, all riddled with nervous energy and big plans to prove her worth, the dreams of being the best hunter in the world. Being the one that changes things is important enough too. 

She’s ahead of the rest of her family in this, now — sixteen, with a mind of her own, a teenage girl who may need protecting, but who knows how to rise in the face of blatant injustices. Cal knows she can lift her voice here. And she’s not nihilistic to believe she’s completely alone, either. 

Tess might not see the vision, but Apollo understood. He saw what the Guild did to their family, and even though he believed, he walked away. 

There will be others. Calliope will find them. She can make them understand too. 

But — another quiet pebble hits her little window, interrupting her runaway thoughts, and Calliope moves towards it, the whisper of hope that Pandora once lost settling into its happy home in the hollow of her ribs. 

Juliette is pale under the early morning sun, but the light that manages to glance off of her cheekbones is gentle. Her tiredness is evident from up above, and Juliette looks skittish, glancing over each shoulder, but she has a loose grip on a handful of pebbles. 

Calliope wants to hold her. 

Juliette shuffles her feet quietly and looks up sharpy as Calliope opens the window, and her shoulders are tense, pulled up to her ears, but Cal watches some of the tension leech out of Juliette’s eyes when their gazes meet, like seeing her can calm something in Juliette. 

And the heft of the hope under her sternum blossoms into something almost hard to hold. Calliope forces herself to keep the grin that’s threatening to break out across her face. She doesn’t want to scare Juliette away, understands the significance of this. Juliette has come to visit or needs something or just wants to talk — it doesn’t matter what it is when Juliette has sought her out. 

Cal knew Juliette still loved her back, despite it all. That a love like this has to persist. 

She leans out the window slightly and forces the smile out of her voice as she calls down in greeting. 

“Jules, hey.” 

And Juliette is looking up at her with her doe eyes glistening. Calliope wants to drown in the depths of them and verse herself in the subtleties of each of Juliette’s fluttering eyelashes. There is longing in Juliette’s eyes, behind all of the guarded nonchalance she has put on like a mask. The hope in Calliope’s chest finds something it recognizes in Juliette’s eyes and calls out with its own greeting.

“Hi,” Juliette demures. “Can we talk?”

Cal cocks her head. “You want to come up?” 

It’s the wrong thing to ask — Juliette looks stricken and shakes her head in panic. Cal shakes her head too in response. 

“I meant- wait, okay? I’ll be down in a sec.” 

And that’s closer to right. Juliette’s panic pauses for a moment, and Calliope watches to make sure Juliette will stay before ducking back to throw on some clothes and grab her emergency go-bag just in case. All of the Guild training she refuses to forget is ringing in the back of her mind, telling her she might need it, and Cal would rather be safe than sorry. She will not lose any more people she loves. 

It doesn’t take long before she’s swinging out of her window easily, shimmying down the side of the house, and landing on the ground beside Juliette with a quiet thump. She pretends like she doesn’t notice Juliette’s impressed look or the way Juliette has been staring at her toned arms, but lets a glow of delight spread over her cheeks as she looks down at Juliette. 

Juliette has taken a step back and wrapped her arms around herself protectively, though Cal is not sure if Juliette is protecting herself or Calliope. It hurts, everytime Cal sees Juliette look so unsure. 

“You wanted to talk?” Cal prompts Juliette into speaking, but in reality, she’s cataloging all of the new nervous tics she can see Juliette exhibiting. 

Jules never used to chew on her lips like that, always so careful to hide her top row of teeth, but now it’s like she has to be chewing or biting something to hold herself back. She’s started looking over her shoulder constantly, switching sides every time, like she expects to find someone coming up behind her, listening to some noise that Cal’s mortal ears can’t even pick up. Her eyes are unfocused now; where Juliette normally would meet Cal’s stare with a soft smile and challenging glance of her own, now her eyes barely acknowledge Calliope’s, as Juliette constantly scans the horizon for new threats. 

She doesn’t feel safe, Cal can tell. There’s not much Calliope can do to alleviate that fear other than make herself as non-threatening as possible, so she keeps her hands low and out of her pockets, where Juliette can see them. Her bag is on the ground between them so Juliette would be able to reach it first if she wanted to. And Cal tries to make herself smaller so she doesn’t tower over Juliette. She leans back nonchalantly against the wall of her house, and waits for Juliette to speak. 

Juliette takes a shaky breath. “Um,” she starts. “I’ve just been told a lot about Oliver and his plans, and about your brothers, and — okay for context it was from Elinor but — well actually, I don’t know if you remember her much, other than when she brought you to our house and tried to get me to bite you, and, um. I don’t really know where to start.” 

Jules didn’t ramble like this, though she was never the most concise either, but Cal can tell how nervous Juliette is right now, voluntarily at the Burns house again for the second time in as many days. 

“Start wherever feels right,” Cal tries to soothe. “I’ve got as much time as you need.” 

Juliette nods, a small shy thing, and looks down at the ground to collect her thoughts. When she looks up, she has a little smile on her face, and Calliope does her best to match it instead of beaming back. 

“I’m doing this a little wrong,” Juliette confesses with a self-deprecating laugh. “Everything is so jumbled in my head and it’s coming out so confusing. I have things that you need to know, but I can’t focus enough to tell you.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Cal asks, scanning the periphery of the yard to see if they have lawn chairs out that she can grab instead of leaving the two of them standing awkwardly by the house.

“I-” Juliette hesitates. “There might be a way, but I’m not sure it’ll be the most comfortable for you.” 

“Whatever you need,” Cal says immediately, and she feels no hesitation. If she can provide Juliette with some ease, she will do anything. 

Juliette looks reluctant, but reaches out with one hand, and Cal does not stop to think before intertwining her fingers with Juliette’s and holding on tight. Juliette takes a breath, and the ground shifts beneath Calliope’s feet — she swears she can feel the breath Juliette took filling her own lungs, the heady rush of oxygen overwhelming her brain. 

Calliope gasps as she’s tugged up by an unseen force, and her wrists burn, but Juliette’s hand is still in hers, their fingers are still linked and Juliette smiles grimly over at Calliope. It’s a warning and an apology all at once, and Calliope opens her mouth to ask what’s going on when- 

A rush of emotion washes over Calliope, hits her so hard she can’t breathe. It’s fear and anger and pain, a swirling tidal wave that crashes down and sweeps her feet out from under her, and she scrambles to keep her footing. The ocean of feeling begins to drown her in its depth, sucking her out in a riptide. She is taken under and surfaces, only to be pulled back down, and she feels the physical manifestation of dread fill her nose like salt water. It burns.

A blinding spike lodges itself in the middle of Calliope’s throat, and she can’t swallow around it, she can’t speak, and she feels herself gag. Panic rises, and pain follows, moving to her eyes, and Calliope blinks, hard, three times in a row, trying to clear her vision, but to no avail. She feels like she’s treading water, pushing and kicking and searching for the bottom to steady herself, but it’s lost, and now she can’t see. 

There’s abandonment seeping in alongside the fear now, a resignation that follows from the tiredness that weighs at her frantic limbs. And there’s a stubbornness there and Calliope’s stomach drops at the feeling; she knows in her gut that resistance here only leads to more pain. 

The issue is — she doesn’t quite know where here even is. All she knows is that everything hurts; all she feels is Juliette leading her along. 

Juliette is the only thing in this awful hellscape that Calliope is sure of anymore. She can’t see Jules, but she can feel the tight grip of her hand, and it’s still real, amidst all of the confusion and the swirling of the rising tide. Even as she’s drowning, Calliope holds tight to Juliette’s hand, and hopes Juliette forgives her enough to help. 

But she is stuck for longer than she thinks she can bear before there is the reassuring solidity of some unknown land under her feet, and Cal coughs, a hacking, throaty thing. Her lungs ache with the force of it. 

A soft hand rubs at her back and brushes tears off of her cheek before Calliope even realizes she has been crying, and the awareness of her body, the knowledge of her tears, pulls Calliope into the moment. 

She is hunched over, legs folded under her, arms outstretched, cheek pressed against the ground and her eyes are clamped shut, but the tears are leaking out anyway, heaving gasps making her whole body tremble with the exertion. 

And Calliope can’t see Juliette, but she can feel Juliette all around her, her presence a comfort and her hand still tightly in place in Calliope’s. 

It takes time for her to manage to calm down long enough to take a breath. It takes longer for her to be able to speak, but the whole time she is coming down, Juliette is there, rubbing her back, wiping gently at tears until they dry up. 

Calliope doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she manages to sit up eventually, repositioning herself to stretch out her legs, which have fallen asleep while she was uncomfortably hunched over, trying to protect all of the fragile parts of her body from the cruel gaze of the world. 

She can’t make herself look at Juliette right away, bashful of the mental breakdown she has just emerged from, so she tries to place their surroundings instead.

The space they are in is not quite a room but not any outdoor space she recognizes either, bathed in red and fragmented like a mirror. Every angle of the reflective walls shines back with a different image and Calliope can’t quite focus on any one thing; the tug in her gut that forces her to keep turning her head makes her feel that might be for the best. But as she scans the room, she thinks she might see Smashley crawling out of a hole, Elinor sitting at a bar, Oliver’s smarmy smile, herself tucked close to Juliette, her father’s glare, and she averts her eyes and turns back to the only thing in the room that might not burn her.

When she finally manages to look over at Juliette, the softness in Juliette’s eyes almost breaks her composure again, but Calliope manages not to drop her gaze. 

“I’m okay,” Cal breathes out shakily. “It’s fine.” 

Juliette gives her an appraising look, before she shakes her head. “You don’t have to be.” 

Calliope looks up and hopes she doesn’t look as pleading as she feels, because how can she express to Juliette just how terrible she feels, while also maintaining the stoic, staid strength she wants to exhibit to prove she can protect Juliette? 

Is it possible to protect someone while showing them how deeply she feels? Or is vulnerability as diametrically opposed to protection as she has been taught by the Guild? 

“I’m not okay most of the time,” Juliette shrugs a little, smiles sadly down at Calliope. “But it’s been helping a little to have people talk about it.”

Calliope knows about Juliette’s night with Ben, since he had texted her updates all night, despite her not asking. He is a good friend to Juliette and a good ally; Cal likes him more every time she speaks with him, and getting him over to Juliette’s had been more than easy. She had pulled up to his house, told him she was worried and that Juliette might let him in this time, and he had been opening the door to the car within the same breath. 

But Calliope can’t bear it right now, in the strangeness of this place, the liminality of it, in between the real world and too close to things she doesn’t know how to address. She can feel the heat of her father’s glare in her peripheral vision, but when she turns her head, the reflection of the image has vanished. 

“Later?” Calliope asks, and Juliette nods like a promise. She holds out her pinky finger and Calliope stares at it blankly before looking back up at Juliette in confusion. 

“Pinky promise!” Juliette insists, cracking a small grin. Calliope does not try to mask the joy that Juliette’s slight teasing brings and lifts the pinky of her free hand to lock into place. They are still holding hands, and as soon as Calliope thinks Juliette has forgotten, Juliette squeezes lightly and stands, pulling Cal to her feet. 

“Where are we?” Calliope gets dizzy just standing up. The walls are overwhelming, and not being able to see any image clearly when she looks straight at it is giving her a headache. 

“I’m still a little confused,” Juliette admits. “But basically, this is my subconscious? Or I think that’s the easiest way to explain it, I don’t fully understand. I can bring people in and out of dreams basically, on purpose, ever since my first kill.”  

“And this is…”

“The inside of my head, yeah,” Juliette shifts awkwardly. “Which I didn’t warn you about before pulling you in here, and now it’s weird because why would you-” 

“It’s not weird,” Cal cuts Juliette off before she can spiral too much further. “I just didn’t expect it. But that means that everything from earlier was from you too, right?” 

Juliette shifts again “I still can’t really control that part.” 

“What is it?”

“Uh,” Juliette looks at their hands, still clasped together, and doesn’t speak for a moment while Cal watches closely. “I think — and I don’t know for sure, this is literally the second time I’ve ever done anything like this, and the first time on purpose — but I think it might…possibly…be my dreams? Or where they come from? The most base units of how I feel, I guess.” 

She must take in Cal’s expression, because Cal watches her backtrack suddenly. 

“But also like, it’s not that big a deal! It’s not really that bad because-” 

“Jules,” Cal says firmly, and Juliette’s mouth snaps shut. “It’s bad.” 

“It’s-” Juliette attempts a protest. 

“I’m sorry,” Calliope hopes the remorse comes through, because she feels it from the core of her being. “That you feel any of that. If it’s in a dream or not. You don’t deserve it.” 

Juliette is quiet. “Yeah well,” she says, and she lets go of Calliope’s hand for the first time, taking a half step back. “Didn’t have much of a choice about it, did I?” 

Calliope doesn’t have enough time to feel guilty, or process how cold her hand feels outside of the warmth that Juliette is, before Juliette moves with purpose towards one of the panes of glass, and strides confidently through. 

Cal freezes in her tracks, and a few seconds pass before Juliette pokes her head back through the glass and gestures with her head for Calliope to follow. 

Passing through the glass is strange; it’s cold and wet, but Calliope feels a curious tingle at every point her bare skin touches the material of the pane, like something in Juliette’s subconscious recognizes the feel of her and is sending greetings. Cal tries to exude all of the positive energy possible, in case Juliette’s subconscious decides to revisit old vampiric vendettas. 

“What are we-” Cal cuts herself off. Juliette is no longer beside her, but sitting on a barstool at a bar that is not attached to any room she can see. Juliette is wearing the same clothes as the day that she came to drop off the jacket, and Calliope watches as Juliette fists her hands and shoves them into the pockets firmly, as if trying to force herself into stillness. 

“What’s happening?” Cal asks aloud. 

A shiver runs up the back of her neck, and Juliette’s voice is murmuring in her ear, but Juliette is very much still sitting in front of her. 

“Listen,” disembodied-Juliette chides gently, and Cal nods, moving closer. 

As she approaches the bar, another figure, blonde hair, with a bold painted lip, turns to speak to Juliette. 

Cal can’t quite make out the words, so she gets even closer, just in time for Juliette to straighten suddenly, and speak. 

This time Calliope hears it. 

“Tell me what you know about where Oliver is,” and Juliette leans closer to Elinor. “I need to know where the Burns brothers are going.”

Cal watches as Elinor nods once, before speaking. 

“There’s a safe house, a few hours north of here, near a former Guild stronghold that got rooted out by insurgency a few years ago. It was kept very hush-hush by everyone, because it was embarrassing for both hunters and monsters alike. There were creatures from both groups, bonding and working together, against the natural order. There’s a theory, among the Legacy Council anyway, that this group has the answer on how to kill and subdue Legacies, to make them permanently harmless.” 

“What does that have to do with Oliver?” Juliette interrupts. 

“Our dear brother is persuasive when he wants to be,” Elinor smiles wryly. “He thinks that he can convince the former Guild to his side, and he’ll pretend to be reformed and genteel, but he’s probably planning another ambush with his witch.” 

“And Cal’s brothers?” 

“Are also heading towards the stronghold,” Elinor confirms, nodding again. “I think the one you sired can feel Oliver somehow — something about the Atwood bond, or his first kill, I can’t tell. But the other one, Apollo? He’s just interested in the stronghold itself, finding a society where humans and creatures can live side by side.” 

“That’s too good to be true,” Juliette shakes her head. “There’s a reason we’ve been kept apart for so long.” 

Elinor shrugs. “I don’t know, honestly. Legacies have been alongside humans for all of our history. We fit in. I think it’s worth thinking about, at least.” 

Calliope watches as dream-Juliette’s hands fidget with a cup of something dark and thick. She can almost see how hard Juliette is thinking. 

“You think we can really live with humans? Without hurting them, I mean?” Juliette asks in a quiet voice. She sounds young to Calliope’s ear, unsure, and Elinor must notice too, because her eyes soften. Elinor cups Juliette’s cheek gently, and Juliette leans into the touch. 

“Sweet little,” Elinor says, softly. “We have the ability to do great and terrible things. You might not trust yourself now, but know that you have the ability to control yourself when you need to. I hate to admit it, but you might be the best of us. Ever since I saw your dreams…Jules, I think I understand what you meant, before, when you didn’t want to kill. I don’t relate, but I understand why you would say that. And I think you’re right about needing change. You know how stressful things have been since Father and Grandmother’s…unpleasantness. You might be the best hope we have at bringing the Council into the future.” 

Juliette looks stunned, and her mouth drops open.

Elinor lets go of Juliette’s face, takes a sip of her drink, and then turns back to Juliette with a laugh. “Assuming our brother doesn’t blow up the world as we know it first though!” 

There is fuzzy static across the front of Calliope’s vision, and she blinks hard. The red, fractal room appears, and she blinks again, treading water in the ocean of pain. Before the tide can turn on her, she blinks a third time, and comes back to herself, leaning up against the wall of her house. 

“Fuck,” she says flatly. 

Juliette has come back to her body too and is looking anywhere but Calliope. “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be. It was a lot, but I needed to know. Now I can-” 

“We,” Juliette offers. 

“-get onto the road. Wait what? You’d want to-” 

“-come with you to stop my brother from destroying a healthy, happy community? Yeah, I’d go with you.” 

Juliette looks embarrassed, a light pink flush rising on her cheeks, but she doesn’t back down. 

Calliope nods. “Okay then. We’ll go. We’ll talk to Apollo and Theo about their plan, and you and I figure out how we can help.” 

Juliette looks relieved that Calliope isn’t fighting her, as if Calliope would ever miss any opportunity to spend time with Juliette. 

“But,” Cal adds as an afterthought. “Maybe we just tell them what Elinor said, instead of taking them into your mind palace.” 

Juliette’s light flush burns a bright red and she covers her face with her hands, groaning out a quiet stooop, I didn’t know what else to do, and Calliope manages a grin back down at her. 

There is still playfulness between them in the moments that matter. This is a girl she recognizes, even as Juliette smiles up at her, still unsure. This is someone Calliope knows.

Before they can leave, Calliope needs to actually pack. Her go-bag is good in a pinch, but knowing her enemy is important, and Cal wants to have more protections against the witch. She trusts that between Theo and Juliette, Oliver’s threat level will be neutralized, but having some countercharms to resist bewitching feels like an appropriate plan of action. 

Juliette won’t come inside, or even wait by the front door, and Cal gets it. She wouldn’t necessarily want to face the house, or her mother, either. But Juliette is content to wait underneath Calliope’s window. 

And Juliette has come to Calliope first. 

Cal was fine waiting, honestly, as much as it hurt. She had resigned herself to the fact that she would never really get Juliette like this again, with jokes and laughter sprinkled in between the serious moments, holding Calliope’s hand tightly through the scary parts. 

But Juliette has thrown her full weight behind trying in a way Calliope doesn’t think she has yet earned and might not ever deserve. Finding Calliope with information about her brothers and offering to confront Oliver too — Juliette is making an effort. Cal wants to make sure it’s worth that, that she is worth it, so she sneaks back into her room quickly and quietly, and makes her way downstairs. 

Cal doesn’t turn on the bright lights of the basement, just going based off of feel, on autopilot, because any hesitation brings back images she can’t afford to get stuck on, and fills up a larger backpack with every protection charm and magic disruptor she can find. She throws in an axe that she’s been practicing with, and her footsteps stutter in front of the chest Apollo has stored the cleaned spears in, but since their run-in with the werebeast, Cal has decided to retire the silver-tipped weapon as her instrument of choice. 

She’s versatile anyways. A knife or an axe or a spear, she’s a force to be reckoned with all on her own, especially when she has someone she wants to protect. No one is going to be touching Juliette. 

Cal almost makes it out of the basement with no issues, but the top step creaks loudly and she freezes where she stands. 

When there is no noise to greet her immediately, she lets out a quiet sigh of relief, steps up onto the landing, shuts the door to the basement, and turns around to see her mother’s unimpressed face, one eyebrow raised, staring right at her. 

Cal screams — she can’t stop herself. Talia’s eyebrow rises even higher, incredulous at Calliope’s reaction, and Cal claps one hand over her heart. 

“You scared me,” she pants out. 

“If that’s how you react to someone sneaking up behind you, we have a lot more work to do,” Talia tells her, unfazed. 

Cal shifts minutely to hide the backpack full of weapons, but Talia has already clocked her movement, and shakes her head at the motion. 

But surprisingly, Talia says nothing about it immediately, and Calliope turns to go, making sure to try to conceal the backpack still, even if her mother has seen it. It’s better not to rub her blatant theft and disregard of the family rules in Talia’s face. Not that the family rules mean much anymore, with her brothers out of the house, Jack off Guild-knows-where, and herself about to take an unsanctioned road trip, leaving Talia alone in the house. 

Still, there is an unnamed emotion in Talia’s voice when she speaks that makes Cal freeze. 

“Are you leaving too?” Talia asks. She sounds resigned, tired. 

Cal turns to look at her mother, and the unimpressed look, the raised eyebrows, have been replaced by a forlorn expression, the look of a mother watching her children go out and change the world they are inheriting, but a mother who knows that the world is dangerous and resistant to change. A mother, who nonetheless, does not stand in the way of her children’s dreams. 

Cal nods once. 

“With her?” 

Cal feels her eyes go wide. This feels like a trap, even after Talia’s last conversation with Juliette. 

“Um,” she answers. 

“How’s she doing?” 

“She’s…not good.” 

Talia nods slightly, tilts her head and considers Cal. Cal feels the weight of her mother’s gaze and fights the urge to shrink back. “Will you be in danger?”

“No ma’am.” 

Of this, Cal is certain. There is no danger from Juliette, anyway, and she’s going to make sure there is no danger for Theo and Apollo, either. The four of them will be able to handle whatever Oliver has to throw, and it’s mainly an information-seeking mission anyway. If the ex-Guild community has any tips for her, Calliope will take it. 

She knows how badly she’s wanted to follow her brothers in the past, but this doesn’t feel like that at all. It feels like she has a purpose all her own, and they’re her support. It feels like she and Juliette are on some precipice, on their way to cracking some code set into place centuries before they were even born. 

There is longing in Talia’s voice, as she tells Cal, “Your father would be so excited to see you going out on missions on your own. He dreamed of the day we all would fight as a family.” 

“I’m not going on Guild missions,” Cal says sharply. 

Talia acknowledges that with a tilt of her head. “But you’re taking your power into your own hands. That’s all we’ve wanted for you.” 

“He wanted me to be a good little soldier,” Cal shakes her head. “He would be upset if he knew what I was going to do.” 

“And I won’t be?” Talia raises her eyebrows again, a challenge this time. “I thought you weren’t going to be in danger.” 

“I won’t be,” Cal insists. “But you…I’m going to be with Jules, but Theo and Apollo will be there too. We’re going looking for them.” 

Talia turns contemplative, far away behind her eyes, and Cal can’t quite tell what she’s thinking. 

“All I’ve ever wanted was for the three of you to follow what made you happiest,” Talia says. 

“I know, Mom.” 

“Your father and I haven’t always agreed, but we both love you three so much,” Talia emphasizes. “Your father…if he thought about it, he’d be proud to hear you and your brothers were supporting each other.” 

Calliope can’t believe it. “He wouldn’t be proud of us though. He’s proven his love is conditional. I'm not betraying anyone, and I never did, not once through this whole mess, not even because I love Juliette. But he told us he loved us and he was still ready to kill Theo. Love doesn’t turn off like that. I don’t know how you can forgive him.” 

"That was love for him — Theo had already died in your father's eyes. He was being merciful.” Talia is patient, but Cal has no room for patronization, not now. “Forgiveness has nothing to do with love. I understand where your father was coming from, and when he comes home, we’ll have to talk it out a lot more.” 

"Don't defend him," Cal says, exasperated. "He was wrong. He hurt people. that wasn't mercy. I don't know why you can't see that. Talking about how he wanted to kill my brother isn’t going to change anything."

Talia shrugs helplessly. "I love your father, Calliope. I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand what it's like to love someone you don't always understand."

Cal takes a step back, shocked. "It’s- we’re different."

"Is it?" Talia asks. "Are you really?” She pauses, and Calliope doesn’t breathe. “You can go for now, but I need you to think. If monsters exist in shades of gray, so do hunters."

"Mom..." Cal trails off. 

Talia indicates with her head. "Go ahead. I'll see you when you get home. Keep each other safe." 

“I-” 

“Be good, Calliope. Trust your gut and keep your mind right baby girl.”

Juliette’s posture lightens when Cal lands on the ground beside her with a soft crunch of gravel. Cal brushes off her knees, the dust that rose upon her landing marring the black of her leggings. Juliette watches for a moment. 

“You ready?” she smiles unsurely, but there is a gleam in her eyes that is yet familiar. 

“Let’s go,” Cal confirms. Swinging Apollo’s car keys around her index finger, she leads the way to the car. 

“Oh. We’re…taking yours?” Juliette asks. Her voice turns wary and she hangs back even as Cal opens the door to the driver’s side and drops her bag in the back. 

“Yeah, it’s faster and more undercover than an SUV.” 

“It’s a bright red sports car,” Juliette presses, unimpressed. “Not that lowkey.” 

“Wow, okay,” Cal widens her eyes. “I just figured it would be easier.” 

“Why?” Juliette’s eyes flash dangerously. “What, exactly, is easier?” 

Calliope feels the tension building, but she doesn’t understand where it’s coming from precisely, so she puts her hands up defensively. 

“We can take your car! I just thought since Apollo already’s got a chest of weapons in the back and all of the standard Guild safety equipment, I’d have extras in case things get hard, but I can pull some of that out if you want to drive that bad.” 

“Oh,” Juliette says, the fight leaving her as her shoulders slump. “No, I want you to drive.” 

“Okay…” Cal drawls out, putting her hands back on the open car door. “No worries then, I’ll drive.” 

She slides into the seat, turns the key in the ignition, and waits, hands on the wheel where Juliette can see them. Juliette seems to give herself a little pep talk before slowly walking over to the passenger side, opening the door, taking a breath, and gingerly settling herself down. 

“You good?” Cal feels like she should ask, even if she only gets polite platitudes in response. 

“Mhm.” Juliette hums tightly. Neither of them acknowledge the lie. 

Calliope starts slowly, pulling out of the driveway carefully, making sure all of the mirrors are adjusted right. She refuses to give Juliette any extra reasons to be uncomfortable, outside of the obvious, trying to mitigate any possible problems before they start. She pulls up the coordinates Elinor had written down for Juliette on the maps of her phone and is about to drop her phone in the cupholder beside her, when Juliette reaches out a hand. 

“Can I- do you mind if I navigate?” Juliette asks quickly. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” Cal agrees quickly. “That sounds good, um, I just punched in the location.” 

“No worries,” Juliette says, but clears out the address and goes back to type it herself anyway. 

“Did you just- never mind.” 

Juliette glances over at Calliope, but Calliope keeps her eyes intentionally on the road. A silence builds up between them, and it’s not comfortable like it used to be; Cal is so worried about doing or saying the wrong thing that it’s manifesting in this itching anger under her skin. It’s unfair, how different things are, how wrong this feels, and she’s not angry at Juliette or her behavior, but the fact that she herself was the catalyst for all of that change. 

Calliope reaches forward and turns on the music, the volume low, but Juliette winces. 

“Sorry,” Cal mutters, and turns the radio off just as quickly, both hands back on the wheel.

Juliette is studying her again, and Calliope wishes she would just say whatever is on her mind instead of analyzing her with a puppy-like look of confusion.

“You sure this is okay with you?” Juliette asks, frowning like the thought has just occurred to her. “I know I’m being a lot, I know it doesn’t look stable, but…”

And that’s the thing about Juliette — even in the midst of her obvious discomfort and lack of trust, she’s making sure to check in with Calliope. It would be easier for Juliette to ignore Calliope’s feelings completely. She would be right to do so, actually. But Juliette isn’t like that. 

Cal knows. It’s the mark of something profoundly selfless. Even in the midst of reminders, flashing her back to her worst moments, Juliette makes sure to ask Calliope how she’s feeling.

“Yeah,” Cal smiles, almost laughs, recalling a similar conversation from a lifetime ago. “It’s good. You’re a little nutty, but you’ve been through a lot.”

Juliette smiles back — she remembers too. The last time they had willingly driven anywhere together, Juliette had suggested talking to her brother, and she had called him a little nutty too. 

“I might actually win most-fucked-up out of all of my siblings,” she grimaces dramatically. “I’m losing. To Elinor and Oliver. Can you believe that?” 

“They’re hard to top,” Calliope says solemnly, glancing over to Juliette to let her know she’s joking. “But if you can dream it…” 

“I can do it,” Juliette finishes, nodding just as seriously. They glance at each other for a moment, managing to keep up the serious façades, before both giggling quietly, looking shyly back out at the street. 

Juliette lets the quiet drag on for a long moment, before she turns back to Calliope, checking the map for any new directions, then placing the phone down in her lap, laser-focused on Calliope’s side profile. Cal glances over quickly, questioningly, before concentrating once more on the road. 

“Yes?” Cal prompts. 

Juliette’s quiet, her tone serious. “You’re sure this isn’t too weird for you?” 

“Me?” Cal laughs disbelievingly. “I’m fine. Are you okay?” 

“No,” Juliette says softly, then doesn’t continue. 

The stillness, the way the word hangs in the air between them, makes Calliope’s chest constrict uncomfortably. She hadn’t forgotten, with the way they could fall into rhythm, that Juliette would be feeling strange about the idea of sharing a small space with Calliope for an undetermined amount of time, but she hadn’t checked in as well. 

“Is…is there anything I can do?” 

“No,” Juliette huffs quietly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, glancing down at their progress on the map. “It’s just going to be unpleasant and I can’t do anything about it.” 

“What’s unpleasant?” Cal asks, for clarity, though she has a bit of an idea. 

“This, with you. It’s a lot, to be this close to a human, and then with you…it’s always been worse with you. And then everything else…” 

“Everything else?” 

“With your dad, I mean. And with my family too, I mean.” 

Cal turns her head slightly to look at Juliette in her peripheral vision, who is picking at the dashboard with one unsteady hand. 

“Jules?” she asks. 

“Yeah?”

“What happened with your family, the night I saw you on the roof?” 

Juliette pauses in her picking. She brings her free hand up to rub at her eye harshly, pinches at the bridge of her nose, and lets out a deep breath. 

Her voice is weak when she starts her explanation. 

“I don’t remember it really, but I’ve pieced bits of it together after talking to Elinor. I pulled them into my subconscious, the way we did earlier, except it wasn’t on purpose, and I wasn’t guiding them through the emotional goop. It hurt them all pretty badly, in different ways. I don’t know what they saw, but I know Elinor looked really freaked out, and Oliver’s face was beat up pretty badly.”

Calliope nods. “So it’s a sick gift then, huh. You’re pretty powerful.” 

Juliette shrugs half-heartedly. “Elinor says all of the women have abilities like this. It’s not that special, but because I had no self control, I accidentally enhanced it by feeding a lot.” 

“You ate enough and reached your full potential. Shocker,” Cal tries to deadpan, but Juliette doesn’t find the humor in it. 

“I killed people because I couldn’t stop myself,” she mutters, picking at the dashboard again. “And now I have these powers I don’t understand and that I don’t want. I tried to shield you from the pain of it all, and it didn’t even work, so no, Calliope, I don’t think I reached my full potential.” 

“Okay, maybe that part wasn’t ideal,” Cal acquiesces, tilting her head and rubbing the back of her neck with her left hand. “But you were the one thing grounding me in that moment. No matter what I was feeling when I was lost in your head, I knew your hand was there, holding me in place. It made me less scared, knowing you were there. That’s a gift, Jules. You can walk into people’s dreams, and you brought me into yours. That’s special. You can learn to use it the way you want to, I’ll practice with you if you want. But it doesn’t have to be something we’re afraid of.”

Juliette takes a shaky breath, and Cal glances over quickly, looking back at the road when she realizes that Juliette is trying to hide tears. 

“I just feel like everything is all or nothing right now,” Juliette explains. “Either I feed and have powers and I’m a monster, or I do the right thing and hold back, and I feel fucking miserable and I hurt people without meaning to, and I don’t know how to do anything right anymore.” 

“It’s not that clear cut,” Cal argues. “It looks like it’s one or the other, that feeding means you’re a monster, but there have to be ways that are safe for everyone involved, no? And there has to be a way that you can learn how to use your gift in ways that don’t end up painful.” 

Juliette looks doubtful. “I don’t know if there can be balance here, Cal. Not with freaks of nature.” 

“How can you be a freak of nature when you’re a part of the ecosystem?” Cal shoots back. “If all of your Legacy stories are right, you all have been around since the beginning, with Eve in the garden. Y’all were here first. You’re as natural as they come. We’ll figure out a happy medium, even if it means I have to go back to that freakin’ tsunami you have rolling around in your head, okay?” 

Juliette’s eyes are shining, Cal can tell, even out of the corner of her eye. “You mean that?” 

“Of course I do,” Cal says easily. “I promised you I’d try, didn’t I? This is me trying.”

Juliette just nods. Calliope doesn’t know if it’s because Juliette actually believes her or if Juliette just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

They drive in silence, and Calliope resists the urge to drum her fingers against the steering wheel or hum or clear her throat too loudly, to do anything that makes Juliette uncomfortable. 

For her part, Juliette stays fairly silent too, only speaking when she needs to direct Cal into a new lane, alert Cal to an impending exit. Juliette’s legs are tucked up underneath her, and her head rests on the headrest of her seat, lolling lightly towards the light of the window. 

Cal resists the urge to reach out and steady Juliette’s head too. That’s not necessary anymore. Calliope wouldn’t be welcome now. 

She focuses, instead, on driving carefully, maintaining the speed limit, especially since her flashy, show-off of a brother decided to get a red car; she hates to admit it, but the color might have been the only reason to take Juliette’s car instead. 

They are on the highway, cruising at a fair speed, when there are lights that flicker on in the rearview mirror and Calliope tenses instinctively. 

Juliette glances over, and then over her shoulder. 

“Cal,” she says, her voice tight. 

“I see it,” Cal says, and the red and blue flashes flicker brighter in her eyes. She thinks about all of the training her parents ever gave her; no longer does she focus on the proper technique to kick or punch or catch a blow. She thinks about speaking politely, keeping her hands visible and her head down. 

Her pulse pounds in her ears, and Calliope can tell that Juliette is watching her closely, but she focuses on pulling the car to a slow stop. 

The police car pulls up behind her on the side of the road, and Cal quickly switches on the light so the car is well illuminated. She digs out her license, lays it out on the console, and splays her hands on the steering wheel as the officer approaches her side. 

“Good evening, ladies,” he says sneeringly, and Calliope already hates him. He’s leering at them, something licentious in his gaze, and Calliope sees Juliette fight a snarl out of the corner of her eye. 

“Hello officer,” she smiles back at him as politely as possible, making her voice sound proper. “What seems to be the problem?”

He rests his hand on top of the car, and sighs dramatically. 

“Well y’all were driving miiighty erratic,” he drawls out, the glint in his eye twinkling like he’s amused. His breath is stale though, and Calliope can see the sweat stains under his arms. Can can hear Juliette too, breathing through her mouth, so the guy must smell pretty atrocious for any being with enhanced senses. 

“Were we?” Cal frowns. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Woah, woah, there little lady,” the officer backs away with one hand on his hip, the other gesturing in a stop motion towards Calliope. “Keep your temper now.” 

“I-” 

“Your tone, ” the officer emphasizes. His body cam isn’t recording or, at least, the red light that should be blinking above it is not flashing red. “Watch your tone, little miss. Who’s car is this anyway? Can’t be yours surely.” 

Calliope’s body is cold; dread is in every pore, and she is focusing so hard on not saying anything wrong, not endangering herself or Juliette anymore, but she somehow manages to listen to his questions and answer them. 

“It’s my brother’s, sir.” 

“And does your brother know that you’re taking his car out for a joyride?” the officer ask with a raised eyebrow, like some sort of fucked-up game of gotcha!. 

“Yes sir,” Calliope lies, but she knows Apollo wouldn’t mind. 

“You’re sure?” the officer presses. “Should we call him?” 

“We can if you want, sir,” Calliope answers politely. 

“You have the right answer for everything, huh,” the man asks tauntingly. “What don’t you know?” 

“Sir?” Calliope asks. Her breath gets caught in her throat, and she curses herself, hoping he doesn’t hear the weakness he managed to pull out. 

“Are you high?” he asks, and it feels random, but she knows why he’s asking and she hates him. She hears a low rumbling noise from where Juliette is sitting, but if she looks away without telling him why, it could mean something bad. 

“No sir,” she tells him. Her palms are sweating. 

“How about you get out of the car and we make sure.” 

Her heart stops in her chest. She doesn’t want to be made to leave the safety of the car.

“Is that an order?” Calliope asks. “Sir?” She swears she hears Juliette hiss, low and angry beside her. “Is there probable cause for you to search the car?” 

The officer smiles lazily. “It’s a request, babydoll.” 

The cruel glint in his eyes sparkles and his gestures towards the door, and steps back. Calliope looks down into her lap, then back at him, before making up her mind. 

Cal shifts slightly, moves to reach for the door handle, heart in her stomach. She thinks about the promise she made to her mother, the certainty with which she had promised she would stay safe, and then her mind jumps forward, already wondering how she will get Juliette out of this situation to avoid the sting of silver. Her mind races as her hand approaches the door in slow motion, but then she is being batted away by a hand from her right. 

“No,” Juliette states, voice firm, gaze determined as she levels a look at Calliope. Calliope feels her eyes widen, and silently prays that she’s reading Juliette’s meaning right, that Juliette is transmitting the I-got-this Cal is receiving. “My name is Juliette Fairmont, my father is Sebastian Fairmont, the district attorney for Savannah, and unless you want me to report you, you’ll let us go on our way. I know my rights. You have no probable cause here at all; you’re grasping at straws to meet some quota and you thought we looked like an easy target, but if you make her get out of this car, I will be sending my father your badge number and an explanation of exactly what happened as I understand it. Harassing two girls in the middle of the highway.” 

The officer’s face pales comically. He mutters something about waiting for a moment, walks back towards his vehicle, and speaks into his walkie-talkie quietly. 

Cal doesn’t look back at Juliette. Her heart is thumping loud in her ears, and she’s certain Juliette can tell, can feel the fear flowing through Calliope’s veins. Cal wonders if it makes Juliette thirsty, but she doesn’t look over, just keeps her hands flat on the wheel, fingers splayed so she doesn’t look like a threat. 

Eventually the officer comes back to Calliope’s window. 

“We’re going to let you off with a warning this time,” he says magnanimously, as if he hadn’t just been frightened into changing his tune. “But every police stop nowadays has to end with a test.” 

He flourishes a silver coin and Calliope goes very very still. 

But Juliette is in motion before Cal can think to hold out her hand for the coin. 

“Jules-” Cal starts, but shuts up when Juliette shoots her a sharp look. 

The officer places the coin in the middle of Juliette’s palm, staring her in the eyes, and Juliette looks back unflinchingly. She closes her fingers around the coin, slowly, intentionally, and her fist is still in front of Calliope, halfway between Cal and the wheel, outstretched towards the officer. 

Cal can hear Juliette’s flesh sizzling. She hears the faint press of steam as the silver burns its steady vengeance, leaving its permanent mark in Juliette’s palm. But Juliette is unshaken, unyielding, unbroken. Juliette smirks up at the officer’s discomfited face. 

“Okay, now your friend,” he instructs, shrinking away slightly. Juliette nods, and Cal opens her hand underneath Juliette’s, ready to catch the coin. Juliette opens her hand, keeping her palm facing down, and Cal catches the coin, making a show of passing it from hand to hand and twirling it in her fingers. 

The officer cuts her off gruffly, “That’s enough.” 

He reaches in the window for the coin. “You two make smarter decisions, alright? Think carefully about who you’re spending time with. You don’t want to end up on the wrong path or in trouble.”

Juliette smiles, and her fangs aren’t visible, but Calliope doesn’t know if Juliette has ever looked more predatory. 

“No sir,” Juliette agrees. “Wouldn’t want to end up with anyone getting hurt.”

Calliope waits until the officer walks away to roll up her window. She waits on the side of the road for a second, but he doesn’t pull away, sitting still behind them, so she slowly navigates back onto the highway. 

She doesn’t say a word, but her knuckles are white around the wheel. 

The first exit she finds with a rest stop, she pulls off. Juliette looks at her questioningly, making a quiet noise of protest as the GPS informs them that it is rerouting. 

But Cal ignores it all. She parks carefully, centered in an isolated spot, turns the key in the ignition to cut the engine, and then turns to Juliette. 

“Are you-” Juliette starts. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“What?” Juliette is obviously flabbergasted at the force in Calliope’s tone, but Cal can’t control herself. She’s upset.

“You didn’t have to do that. You put yourself in danger for no reason. That was ridiculous.” 

Juliette’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. We’re fine” 

Cal laughs, and she’s too angry to care about the tears beginning to prick at her eyes. “You’re fine?” 

She reaches out, but stops just short of grabbing Juliette’s hand without asking, still mindful of the boundaries Juliette must have. 

But Juliette resigns herself to it, flips her right hand over, and Calliope cradles Juliette’s thin wrist in one hand, tracing the outline of the coin that is bright red and visible in the middle of Juliette’s palm. The skin is raw and raised, tight and hot, and Calliope swallows around a lump of sadness. 

“This was not okay,” she says, looking up at Juliette fiercely. “Okay? We can figure out another solution. Just because you think you can take it-” 

Juliette looks bewildered. She pulls lightly at her hand, tugging it out of Calliope’s grasp, closing her fingers, and bringing the fist up to her chest. She rubs at the back of her hand with her left hand, self-soothing, and Calliope aches for her. Juliette won’t make eye contact. 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Cal tells her quietly, staying on her side of the car. “I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but it’s not okay to put yourself in harm’s way. I don’t want to have to stand by and be helpless when bad things are happening to you ever again. I won’t stay quiet again.” 

Juliette turns her head towards the window, looking up through her eyelashes. She’s thinking, Calliope can tell, choosing her words carefully. 

“I don’t- it’s harder to tell what’s a risk and what’s normal right now,” Juliette mumbles. “Everything is scarier than it was before. I can’t make sense of what is safe and what isn’t.”

“Ask me,” Calliope all but begs. “If you’re not sure, I’ll be there to tell you.” 

Juliette keeps looking out the window. Calliope turns back to the steering wheel, slumping in her seat. She can feel Juliette settle into her seat too. Their parallel griefs stretch out before them, instigated in the same moments, but never intersecting. 

Calliope lets herself despair, but only for a moment, that this Juliette, the one that is cold and confusing, is the only version of the girl she once knew that exists anymore. 

But the despair is short lived — she herself is not the same version of the girl that Juliette met. Cal hopes she’s better, but she has not been tested yet. 

“Asking you to help me clean off my hand,” Juliette’s voice is hushed, but crystal clear through the silence. “Safe or not safe?” 

Cal closes her eyes for a second, leans her head back into her headrest, pushes all of her confusing emotions away, and holds onto the hope that rises once more to fill her with fire. 

“Safe,” she replies. She turns to Juliette, who is already holding out her hand, grabs her water bottle and a clean piece of gauze from Apollo’s first aid kit in the center console. 

“Safe,” Juliette repeats, and when she looks at Calliope, Cal sees her trying to believe it. 

Calliope pulled into a flat dirt lot, surrounded by woods, and when she looks over at Juliette for confirmation, Juliette nods. 

“We’re here,” Juliette confirms. 

The area surrounding them is empty, bare, and despite the green of the foliage, the dense woods around them, it is quiet. 

“Something feels weird,” Cal says, and she opens the trunk of the car to grab the closest weapon. 

Juliette nods, and she steps a little closer to Calliope. “It’s too quiet.” 

But just as she says that, they hear sticks breaking, the sound of a large loping creature running towards them. 

They look at each other. 

“Shit,” Juliette says. 

“Fuck,” Cal agrees. 

They stand back to back, pacing, turning so they aren’t caught completely unawares. 

The crackling stops just beyond the treeline.

“There,” Juliette whispers, gesturing with her head, and Calliope nods once, holding tight to her knife. 

She crept forward slowly and Juliette followed close behind, tense. 

A rustling emerges from a spot just beyond the bushes, and Calliope brings one finger to her lip to signal Juliette to be quiet. Juliette mouths back duh! and Cal nods and turns away instead of smiling in response. 

She crouches down slightly, pulls back the front of the bush slightly, when- 

There is a beast all over her, and her face is covered in slobber, and Juliette, up above is…laughing? 

A loud whistle pierces the air. 

“Here Daisy!” Apollo calls loudly. Daisy gives Calliope one last lick, then bounds over to Apollo’s side. Since Cal had seen her last, just about a week ago, she’s tripled in size, but it’s obvious she doesn’t understand her size, because she bounds and leans and trips over herself like she was still tiny.

“Fuck Apollo, I almost killed her!” Cal complains, finally managing to stand. Juliette is having a hard time stifling her giggles. 

“Nah, she’s too quick, she wouldn’t have let you.” Apollo snarks back, reaching down a hand to help Calliope up. She smacks his hand away, pushing herself up, and sending dark looks to both Apollo and Juliette. 

Daisy comes up and butts at Calliope’s leg, pushing Cal’s hand onto her head, and Calliope rubs moodily. 

“You’re annoying,” she tells Apollo, then, to Daisy, “Your dad’s the worst.” 

Daisy’s tongue lolls out, and her tail thumps hard, in agreement. 

“That’s true,” a familiar voice agrees. Theo strides into the clearing, looking taller than ever, broad shouldered, and without his glasses. 

He looks good, the light hitting him and illuminating the passion in his eyes. Calliope can’t help but be a little awed by his presence, even as he smiles and wraps her up in a bear hug, laughing. 

“Hey baby sister,” he grins. “Found your way all the way out here, huh?” 

“I had help,” Cal admits, acknowledging Juliette where she stands slightly apart. 

Theo straightens up quickly when he sees her and Juliette’s shoulders hunch slightly in response. She looks over at Calliope, panicked, and Calliope makes as if to go over, but Apollo comes forward, puts one hand on Calliope’s shoulder, and pulls her back, shaking his head. 

“He needs this,” Apollo lowers his voice until it’s barely audible, but the people they’re trying to talk about are vampires and can definitely hear them. Calliope decides not to point it out, and stands back instead. 

Juliette looks pleadingly up at her anyway as Theo approaches, and Calliope cannot help but step forward. Seeing anyone move towards Juliette with so much purpose in their stride makes her nervous. 

But Theo drops to one knee in front of Juliette, who is already flinching slightly, but not moving from her spot, as if she expected to be punished but had decided to accept it. He takes her right hand, the hand that had held the silver coin, in his own, and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“Thank you,” Theo says quietly, looking up at Juliette. “For my life. Even as it is, you gave me another chance.” 

“You- you’re welcome,” Juliette stutters out. But she has a blush on her cheek and Calliope watches it blossom when Theo stands, nods at Juliette deferentially, and then reaches around to give her a hug too. 

It’s true though — no matter how hard it had been to adjust to the thought, no matter how monstrous it seemed to play with the boundaries between life and death, between mortal and immortal, Juliette had brought Theo back to them. Juliette had given him a chance. 

Apollo rolls his head around on the axis of his neck, stretching out. “Yeah, he’s wanted to do some formal shit like that for a minute now. Seems kinda ridiculous to me, but what do I know, I’m not a fuckin’ daywalker.” 

Cal slaps him lightly on the arm. “Don’t call them that!” 

“What?” Apollo grins. “It’s day. They’re walking. It makes sense.” 

“You’re obnoxious,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes. Theo is asking Juliette questions up ahead, and Juliette is giving stilted answers, but slowly becoming more and more comfortable, if the way her hands are moving as she speaks is any indication. Calliope grabs the bag that she had packed, picks her knife back up, and starts to follow. 

Apollo jogs slightly to keep up with Calliope, and they both stay a few respectful paces behind Theo and Juliette, giving them their space to have conversation. But Apollo is in top form now, cracking dumb jokes constantly, never not talking. It doesn’t feel conceited like before though — Calliope can tell he’s doing this because he’s happy all three of them are together.

They watch the two vampires talking. Cal thinks about how much she loves them both. 

Apollo punches her in the arm before she can get too mushy, and says, “Maybe you can keep your daywalker if I get to keep Daisy. Gotta have our pets, huh.” 

He’s joking, but Cal lunges at him anyway, and they make enough noise that Theo turns around. He says their names in such an exasperated, Talia-adjacent tone that both Cal and Apollo freeze. 

Cal’s arm is raised like she’s about to punch Apollo in the face and they start to giggle. Theo rolls his eyes, but laughs a little too. 

Cal locks eyes with Juliette, and Juliette doesn’t look like she’s forcing it at all. There’s a smile there too. 

They hike for hours, but Theo seems to know where he’s going. Daisy strays to and fro from the group, chasing birds and then running back as soon as Apollo whispers. 

But they get to a quiet corner of the woods, and Theo slows down. Daisy stays close. 

“This isn’t the Guild colony,” Theo says grimly. “The entrance to one of their strongholds was just up ahead, but the markers they had to indicate are all old and out-dated. Whoever’s here doesn’t know the secrets.” 

They sneak closer to the entrance, a regular looking door, but the rest of the house — a shack really — has no windows, and Calliope thinks it looks really unstable. 

“Oliver’s inside,” Juliette says, and Theo nods once. 

“I can smell him too,” Theo confirms. Apollo and Cal look at each other and nod too. 

“Divide and conquer?” Apollo offers, fondling Daisy’s ear. 

“Mhmm. Juliette and I can take Oliver, and you two go for his witch?” 

Calliope grips her knife more tightly. “Are we just going to barge in?” 

“Or you could come in like civilized folk,” Oliver’s voice calls from behind them. They spin and he’s leaning against the doorframe, smiling, before walking into the house. 

“Shit,” Apollo grimaces. “I always forget about the hearing.” 

Cal winces too, but follows her brothers and Juliette as they walk into Oliver’s meager living situation. 

There’s a bare mattress on the floor, a single cup and plate beside it, but there’s an ornate chest against one wall, and Carmen is cross legged, meditating in front of an altar of some sort. It’s a far cry from the ornate detail and luxury of their last house, but both Oliver and Carmen still carry an air of regality about them. 

Oliver stands in front of all four of them and spreads his hands in welcome. 

“Well, well, well,” he says. Calliope resents his whole movie-villain schtick, but she admires the thin red line that now mars his face. Juliette had explained the extent of her family’s injuries after her accidental dream-summoning, and it’s impressive to see how, despite his vampiric ability, Oliver was slow to heal this wound. “If it isn’t my favorite sister, with my favorite family of kidnappers.” 

Juliette rolls her eyes. “Low bar all around.” 

Oliver bares his teeth in the semblance of a smile. Carmen creeps around from behind the wall, moving like a serpent and almost impossible to track. Calliope keeps her eyes focused though, determined to catch Carmen in a mistake. 

“You’re not wrong!” Oliver concedes grinningly. “Are you here to join the party?” 

“Can you just quit?” Juliette asks him instead. “Like. Whatever weird manical thing you’re planning, overthrowing the Council, taking the Malkia for yourself…it’s not working. I love you, you’re my brother, but you’re going too far.” 

Oliver sneers at her, and Carmen laughs, high and bitter and sharp. “No such thing as too far for us, baby sis. The end of this story will happen, with or without you and your powers, but you would be the wave of revolution we could use

“Listen,” Apollo cuts in. “I’m all for a family reunion, but this fool keeps talking and I’m getting bored.” 

Theo nods, agreeing. “I’m not sure how we’re related, like vampire-style, and my mama taught me to respect my elders, but you’re kind of a bitch.” 

Oliver raises his eyebrows in amusement, looking over at Carmen. “Baby sister brought some feisty hunters for us to play with, honeybun.” 

“Sounds delicious, baby,” Carmen purrs, and Calliope shudders with disgust. 

“Can you just shut the hell up,” Cal says, cringing. “Y’all sound so gross.” 

Carmen just bares her teeth over at Calliope and Cal nods at her brothers who both raise their weapons. Daisy shifts by Apollo’s side, growling lightly, and he tousles the top of her head affectionately. 

The Burns family waits for Juliette’s signal. She is paused, watching Oliver who smiles broadly at her. 

“Last chance,” she warns. 

“I’ll take that bet,” Oliver laughs out, and that must be all Juliette needs, because the next instant, Cal sees her surge forward. Theo follows just as fast, and Apollo and Daisy are spinning and slashing their way to Carmen. 

Carmen is hurling curses and hexes out wildly, and Calliope has to pull her eyes away from where Juliette is snarling, fangs bared, in order to avoid getting hit by something fiery that smelled like sulfur. 

Calliope can only half watch the blur that Theo and Juliette become as Carmen comes at her, laughing, with balls of fire in her hands, only to be knocked off balance by Daisy’s heft jumping at her on Apollo’s command. 

Cal turns her head, and sees Juliette and Theo swarming Oliver, until Theo gets in a quick hit, and Oliver crumples to the floor. 

As soon as she turns her head back to Carmen, however, there are storm clouds rushing towards her head, covering her eyes with a brilliant fog. It takes Calliope too long to push her way out of it, Carmen coming up close and singeing the front of Calliope’s shirt with the blue fire she holds. 

Apollo comes up behind Carmen and gets her attention, and while she’s distracted, the charms and weather that she’s throwing scattering around the room, Calliope manages to back away and get one good toss in, hitting Carmen in the head with the hilt of her dagger, knocking her to the floor. 

“Nice one,” Apollo says appreciatively. 

Cal picks up her dagger and spins it with a grin. “Thanks.” 

The two of them begin to bind Carmen, Apollo with her hands, Calliope tying her ankles together. When Calliope manages to look up, trusting that Apollo has bound Carmen’s hands firmly, a gag shoved roughly in her mouth to prevent her from summoning any more spells or storm clouds, she sees Oliver struggling with his head trapped in Theo’s strong arms. Juliette stands before them both, and she looks dazed, a hand pressed close to her heart and her eyes unfocused.

“Baby sister,” Oliver says, and it’s pleading. “C’mon. I’m doing this for us. There will always be people like our parents, like Elinor,” he spits the words like poison, “who don’t understand. Who can’t understand what it’s like to be like you and me and feel so much. But we’re the same, you and me. We do what we have to in order to survive.” 

Juliette is entranced, swaying on her feet, and from where she is, Cal can see the tremble in Juliette’s knees, how badly she wants to go to Oliver and let her older brother wrap her in the comfort of his embrace. 

“Come with me,” Oliver stresses. “I’ll make it okay. I’ll keep you safe, Jules. No more worrying about feeding, or the rules the Council makes, no keeping an eye out for hunters…just you, me, and Carmen, and the whole world laying out for us to take. It’s so easy, Jules. Just get your Made to take his arms off of me, leave the hunters behind, and come with us.” 

“Can I-?” Cal turns to Apollo, who gestures toward her with his head, nodding already. 

“Go,” he urges. “She needs you.” 

Cal jogs over to where Juliette stands, coming up on her left side, and Juliette doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do anything except look over groggily. 

“Cal?” she asks, confused. Her eyes are foggy, and Calliope’s heart hurts. 

Cal strides in between Juliette and Oliver, dagger in hand, ready to protect in whatever ways she can. 

Theo has Oliver well-restrained, but Oliver keeps nipping at his hand whenever Theo tries to get a gag in Oliver’s mouth. 

“Stay still,” Theo growls. 

“I’m not gonna make this as easy for you as last time, honey,” Oliver purrs in Theo’s ear. “Not many people get the pleasure of tying me up twice.” 

“Gross,” Apollo calls over. Carmen is well trussed, and fully gagged, but they had agreed; no humans getting too close to Oliver, just in case. “And not like, gross because you’re a dude. Gross because you’re trying to be some sort of fascist dictator.” 

Theo nods in agreement. 

Cal decides her brothers have the situation handled; she turns the entirety of her attention to Juliette, who is still swaying in place, disoriented. 

“Hey baby,” Cal says quietly. “Can you look at me?” 

Juliette raises her unfocused eyes to Calliope’s. 

“You have…” Juliette gestures to the side of her own face, and Calliope touches the side of her cheek with her fingers, noticing, for the first time, the cuts she has all over her face. There is blood all over her; one of Carmen’s storms had been full of hail, and it had sliced thin lines into the meat of her cheeks. 

Juliette is disappearing into her own head. Her fangs were out because of the fight with Olvier, but they are straining now, and her eyes are glazing over. Calliope can see Juliette losing the fight she’s engaged in, between her morals and her basest instinct —  she recognizes that Juliette has been conflicted all this time, and this is her letting herself succumb to it. 

Juliette hisses and it’s low and predatory when it’s aimed at her. But Calliope knows her Juliette is still there. 

There's only one thing Cal can think to do. She moves close; Juliette's eyes are pitch black, her pupils wide, and they are both breathing hard. 

“Mm,” Juliette protests. “Don’t. Your blood- I can’t-” 

“I know you don’t want to hurt me,” Cal assures her, looking into Juliette’s eyes, bringing up one hand to cup Juliette’s jaw. Juliette grabs onto Calliope’s arm, her nails biting in with the force of it. “But you can bite me if you need to. I trust you” 

Juliette breathes in deeply. She reaches up with her free hand, shakily, and wipes at a warm wet streak on Calliope’s forehead. Juliette’s hand comes away red. 

Calliope watches as Juliette wipes the blood on her pants, and shakes her head. 

“I don’t need it,” she says. “I can handle it.” 

Cal leans her forehead to touch Juliette’s. “I know you can. You’re the strongest person I know.” 

Juliette closes her eyes, holding on tight. “Being this close to you. Safe or not safe?”

“Safe,” Calliope whispers. “For both of us. Safe.”

“Aw,” Oliver interrupts sardonically. “How sweet.” 

“Shut up,” Theo grunts, pushing in a gag hard. Oliver chokes slightly. 

Juliette pulls away, but her hand lingers on Calliope’s arm. She takes an unsteady step, then another, until she’s in front of Oliver. 

His eyes widen, and for a brief moment, Calliope thinks she sees actual fear in his eyes, but he masks it quickly. 

He looks up at Juliette and tries to smile around the gag. Juliette stands over him, and Calliope can feel her energy; Juliette is a force, even now. 

“You can’t threaten people I care about,” she says simply, and presses her index finger to his forehead. 

Calliope watches fascinated as Oliver immediately slumps forward, his head snapping down. 

“Is he…” Apollo is hushed. 

“Sleeping,” Juliette says. “Dreaming.” 

Juliette looks over her shoulder at Calliope, probably to gauge what Cal thinks at this new display of power, so Cal makes sure to smile. Juliette tries not to smile back, but fails, before she goes and puts Carmen to sleep too. 

Juliette is the only person who could do something like this, with so much awe-inspiring power behind it, and look unsure. But Juliette is also one of the only people who would sacrifice anything for the people she has decided to love (even if she can’t admit it). 

Juliette bares her teeth and gets things done, reminding the world not to underestimate her. Calliope never will. And she recognizes this fierce protectiveness in juliette. 

She knows this girl, and there is hope here. 

“Well met, young hunters,” a deep voice echoes behind them, and Calliope lifts her knife and steps half in front of Juliette again, blocking this new stranger with her body. 

But Theo hears something he recognizes in the stranger’s voice, and pushes past Calliope’s protective stance. 

“Paolo, amigo! Todo bien?” he asks, and Calliope blinks, lowering her weapon, exchanging a confused glance with Juliette. 

“Cuando no toca la oscuridad, todo está bien,” Paolo tells him with a smile, a countersign if Calliope has ever heard one, and the two men clap each other on the shoulder. 

“Hey Paolo,” Apollo greets. Daisy wuffs quietly in greeting, sitting down with a thump and leaning heavily against Apollo’s leg. 

“Master Apollo,” Paolo nods his head. “It’s good to see you again as well.” 

He turns to Calliope next. “And the hunter we’ve all heard so much about. It’s delightful to meet you, Calliope Burns. You exceed all of the stories we have been told.” 

“Stories?” Cal asks, confused. 

“You are the perfect bridge between worlds,” Paolo explains. “You understand. The shades of gray that control our world — you see them like no other.” 

The conversation with her mother flickers to mind, and Calliope hopes there is no blush playing on her face. She tries, at least, to think about the degrees of morality in place here, but it’s hard. 

“And Juliette Fairmont,” Paolo says. He doesn’t add anything for the longest time. 

“Hi,” Juliette says eventually, squirming. 

“The other end of the bridge,” he considers her with a gentle eye. “You have suffered much, and you are different now.” 

“Not stronger?” Juliette asks, and it sounds like she’s only half joking. 

“No,” Paolo says definitively. “It’s not about strength. It is about lessons learned. Are you learning your lessons well?” 

“I-” Juliette looks taken aback. “I’m trying.” 

Paolo nods, satisfied. “There you are then.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Cal interrupts. “Who even are you?” 

“Oh, of course!” Paolo exclaims, looking over at Theo. “I worked — I still work — for the Guild Academy, but my passion lies in restorative work, the work of peace-building. I spoke with your brother about our project before he was turned, but we’ve been in contact far more since he was changed.” 

Paolo looks meaningfully at Juliette, who ducks slightly. 

“My community is of all types. Monsters and humans and all those in between, and we learn how to live together in a way that benefits everyone. And we’ve been following your story very carefully.” 

“Oh,” Calliope says. She looks over at Juliette to find Juliette already looking at her. 

Juliette speaks up. “And what have you seen from us?” 

“Hope,” Paolo says. “A future where we can all be united. We have far to go, but we are making a start.” 

Paolo takes them on a tour of their compound, introducing all four of them to the various members of the compound. 

Calliope is fascinated by the Shamblers that squelch by, the shapes and breeds of monsters she’s only ever seen in books, all walking hand-in-hand with humans. 

But she mostly notices how Juliette is dead silent the whole time. 

There is a new sort of Legacy in the compound; Made vampires, with blended families gather in little communities, sitting in the shade with children in their laps, holding hands with human partners. 

Calliope watches Juliette watch, and turns away before Juliette can notice how closely she’s been paying attention. 

She turns, instead, to the conversation Paolo is having with Theo. 

“...think we should be able to find a place for the two of them if you’d like.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Theo agrees. “Actually-” 

“A place for who?” Calliope interrupts. 

Paolo clears his throat. “We have facilities here, and if you agree, Juliette, we were thinking of keeping your brother and Carmen here for a little while, until we are sure they are no danger to the public.” 

“What are you going to do to him?” Juliette asks. The question is really bothering her. She stares at her brother, asleep, tied up in ropes, and Calliope wonders if Juliette is seeing a version of herself. 

“Do?” Paolo looks surprised. “We aren’t going to do anything. Apparently he was seeking us out for conversation. We’ll speak with him.” 

“And I’ll stay,” Theo volunteers. “I wanted to be here anyway. I can keep an eye on Oliver too.” 

“I’m gonna stay too, obviously,” Apollo says. “And the pup.” 

Daisy thumps her tail wildly from the corner she had settled in. 

Paolo nods. “Very good. We’ll be glad to have you for however long you decide to stay. And you ladies?”

Cal looks over at Juliette to speak for the both of them. 

Juliette reaches out a hand to Calliope. Cal takes it and feels herself start to blush. She refuses to make eye contact with Apollo; she can feel him raising his eyebrows at her. 

“We’ve got to get home,” Juliette says. “There’s still a few things we have to figure out together. But we’ll be back.” 

She looks up at Calliope, and there’s a question in her eyes, as if she’s asking Calliope to confirm it. 

Right? her eyes seem to ask. We’ll be back? Together? 

Trusting you, safe or not safe? 

Cal squeezes harder at Juliette’s hand. “Promise.” 

Safe.

Chapter Text

The drive home is quiet the whole time. 

Juliette can feel Calliope glancing over at her, but she doesn’t have the words at the moment. And Calliope lets her be quiet, too. It’s not silence, heavy and uncomfortable, and full of things unsaid, but rather a restful quiet, one they let themselves marinate in, soaking up being in each other’s presence. 

Calliope looks at Juliette in askance, then turns the radio on low and hums along to whatever playlist she had preset, and Juliette lets herself unfocus, hearing the melody but not the words. It doesn’t sting at her this time, the noise doesn’t assault her senses; she is not on high alert now. 

Her body is relaxed for once, sated from the fight, spent from the emotional drain of seeing her brother and resisting the lure of Calliope’s blood, ever tempting and always alluring, like everything else about Calliope. Juliette is honestly not sure how she’s ever resisted the call, but there is something in her, something that makes her take pause. 

She doesn’t want to hurt Calliope. She doesn’t want to. And it’s stronger than any other urge.

Calliope’s blood is a siren song, always, and even though she isn’t looking at Calliope now, she can feel the quiet heat emanating from the scratches that line Calliope’s exposed skin. Carmen’s storms had done a number and Juliette wonders if that was the point, if Carmen had planned to cause as much surface damage as possible. 

It would just be like her brother and Carmen to try to leave permanent marks, reminders that Calliope will not be able to wash away; Juliette is determined — these marks, the fading scars that will form along Calliope’s arms, legs, and cheeks, will remind her of her own restraint. They will form the shape of Juliette’s duty of care, take the silhouette of her remaining humanity. 

Juliette did not feed from Calliope when given the choice. She made that decision. She got to choose.

She thinks she chose right.

Juliette thinks about what real forgiveness might feel like, and what it might look like to get to a place where she can look at Calliope without thinking of how she was hurt once for doing so. 

But in the same vein, as she peers from the corner of her eyes to watch as Calliope changes lanes, merging onto the highway, a look of concentration written across her face and her lips moving as she mouths the words to yet another song, this could be forgiveness too. 

Because she can look at Calliope now. And sometimes, Calliope will look back. 

Now, Calliope looks her in the eyes. 

There is no more of that cruel evasion, of Juliette pleading for help and Calliope, unable to step out of the hulking shadow of her father, would shrink down, staring at the floor, pretending like she couldn’t hear. Maybe Juliette is a fool for letting Calliope make her more promises, but she would rather try to trust. Especially if the alternative is falling headlong into the deep dark, alone. 

Jack Burns would prefer if Juliette stayed far away from his daughter. But she would prefer to be in this car, as Calliope’s eyes shine with a smile back at her. 

Forgiveness is a hell of a drug. 

Juliette watches the trees blur by, and Calliope’s low, even tone hums out in the background. She leans her head back and closes her eyes and lets her body melt into the seat. Calliope has the directions up on her phone, and Juliette lets her navigate them home. 

These past days have been endless, sleepless from the moment she left Elinor at the Wooden Stake. It’s hard to fathom that she has been wandering, searching for meaning, taking advice from everyone who will offer it. 

Calliope hadn’t given advice, but had made promises, requests, pleas, for another chance that Juliette was already giving her, just by being around one another. Ben had touted the idea of listening and waiting to see what Calliope had to offer. And Elinor…Elinor was the only one who had a clue as to how difficult it really was to play at control. 

But even Elinor had been softer than usual, with the subtle hints at protection, giving Juliette the information necessary to make sure Theo and Apollo were safe, while also taking Oliver down a peg or two.

And Oliver — 

Seeing him had been a shock to her system, even if that was half of the reason she had followed Calliope into the car anyway. The red scar along his face that she didn’t remember giving him burned red in her retinas, all she could focus on when she first saw his face. 

Despite his grandiosity and bravado, Juliette could see the flickers of insecurity that shone through the cracks in her performance. And Carmen was slower on the draw too, not as unilaterally destructive as they had tried being the times before. 

There was a fear there.

Juliette considers her own feelings, but the truth of the matter is — Oliver’s fear, in the face of all he had done…it doesn’t cut as deeply as Elinor’s stunned face, the one that she can’t help but see flash to the forefront of her memory before anything else. 

Oliver deserved it after all of the manipulation and the way he had tried to play with her; it wasn’t unprovoked from her end, not with him. He had tried to make her do things she didn’t want to be a part of, and she had defended herself from his assault. The scar that marred his face was a reminder that she was stronger than she had ever given herself credit for before. 

And the thin cuts along Calliope’s face now, should they scar, will be reminders that Juliette is strong too. Just a different strength. 

Her eyes are still closed and the gentle rumble of the engine is lulling her to sleep, but the acrid stench of the exhaust prickles at the inside of her nose, keeping Juliette awake just enough. But blocking out the daylight is rest all its own, and the smell of coconut and lavender are a soothing enough cocktail, reminding her of her bed and blissful sleep, and Juliette feels herself on a familiar path to sleep, a bridge of churning waters she recognizes. 

She pulls herself back; there is still so much she doesn’t understand about dream-walking, and it’d be dangerous to explore, to possibly pull Calliope in with her as they drive home. 

Juliette opens her eyes blearily, and pulls her legs up close, holding her arms around them. 

Calliope turns her head slightly. “You okay?” 

“Mm,” Juliette mumbles, voice hoarse and rough. “Don’t wanna fall asleep.” 

Calliope’s eyes flash with something like regret. “I- I’m driving straight back to mine, no detours, I can wake you a little before we get to Savannah if-”

“No, it’s not that,” Juliette assures her. “It’s not that I’m staying up to keep an eye on you or anything. I don’t want to dream and take you with me. I still can’t control it.” 

“Oh,” Calliope deflates a little in relief. “Well, then.” 

“Yeah.” 

“But you controlled it really well back at the compound,” Calliope offers. 

“Thanks,” Juliette shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t really know what I did.” 

“With Oliver and Carmen?” Calliope asks. 

Juliette nods. “I…I think I have you to thank actually.” 

Calliope begins to shake her head, but Juliette presses onward. “No, really. I was frozen in front of him. I mean, he’s my brother, and I had just spent the afternoon with your brothers, and you tease each other and laugh, but you have each other’s backs. It got a little messed up in my head, is all. I saw him and I saw what we should have been. A family like we never had.” 

“My brothers…it’s not always good,” Calliope hedges. 

“I’m sure it’s not,” Juliette agrees, putting one foot back on the floor, tucking the other one under her leg. “But even as an outsider, I could tell how much care you have for each other. If it came down to it, you all would burn down your world for each other. Hell, Apollo is doing that right now.” 

Cal nods once. “He’s never going to be allowed back in Guild spaces. My mom and I maybe, but Apollo is-” 

“He’s with his brother,” Juliette picks up. “He chose Theo over everything. I think I was hoping…” 

Calliope stays silent, and Juliette doesn’t look at her face, but turns her head towards Cal slightly, focusing on the way Cal’s long fingers flex around the steering wheel, how her grip is relaxed and sure. 

“I was hoping that Oliver wanted to be family too. For so long, I didn’t know him. I still don’t know exactly what happened, if he or Elinor or whoever were actually evil to start with. But Elinor is the one who told us where to go, and he’s the one who’s been manipulating me since he came home. I just wanted a chance to pretend we could be family for a second.” 

She takes a breath. 

“But I needed you to pull me out of it.” 

“I was ready,” Cal says, and looks over. Juliette meets her gaze. “I’m keeping my promises this time around.”

Calliope’s eyes are honest, clear, and sparkling bright. Juliette doesn’t even have to listen to know that Calliope means what she says. 

“And I wasn’t faking it or whatever,” Cal continues. “I trust you. If you need to bite me, whenever you need blood, I’d-” 

Juliette interrupts, “I know. And I appreciate it. But I won’t.” 

She doesn’t know how to explain. She can’t say what she has decided for herself — that she won’t take risks with Calliope like that, that Calliope is her hard boundary always, that she will never forgive herself if something were to happen to Calliope — so she stops herself short, and she can hear the abruptness of her sentence hang awkwardly in the air.

But Calliope understands, either way. She nods, and her attention is fixed directly back onto the road, and Juliette feels an unmistakable flush rise in her when she realizes she doesn’t even have to speak, and Calliope is ready to try to understand. Even if there are things that they can’t discuss yet, Calliope nodding along means she is willing to wait until the words come to them. 

It means more than Juliette is willing to let it. 

The quiet between them has never been uncomfortable, never needed something in the middle to fill it, but Calliope’s right hand falls off the wheel and turns the volume on the music up a little bit, and something with a heavy thumping beat, solid and comforting in its repetitiveness, thrums in Juliette’s ears. 

The more she considers the girl in the seat beside her, the more she thinks about the grace that Calliope carries in her every movement. Even in the fight, in the moments that Oliver hadn’t captured her attention, Juliette remembers looking over to see Calliope like a lioness, spinning and flashing her silver knife with poise and grace. 

Apollo had been similar, a blur of confident motion, with his dog-beast-creature at his heels. The pup was cute, but her teeth were long as daggers when they were fully bared, and she was vicious when she needed to be. Apollo had made good use of it. 

In the end, Juliette doesn’t remember seeing how Apollo and Calliope had managed to subdue Carmen. It didn’t matter; Carmen had ended up on the ground, and Calliope, with all of her ferocious and untamed power, had made her way to Juliette and been so gentle. That was all that Juliette needed to know, all she wanted to remember. 

Her side of the fight had been much less memorable. She had her fangs out for half of it, and she was moving fast, all of her practice hunting paying off in the moment. Juliette was used to easily subduing men larger than her, people who underestimated her small size, and even Oliver, who knew what she was, hadn’t considered her a real threat at the start. Even with the scar on his face, he had turned to face Theo first. 

And Theo had been a force to be reckoned with too. All three of the Burns siblings were intensely powerful, almost superhumanly gifted in the way they moved, and the way the air parted around them in deference, bending to their intentions. 

It had been something else, fighting alongside Theo though. A part of her had been aware of his every move; another part felt protective, responsible for his well-being, even as he held his own confidently. 

More than that — the way he spoke to her felt different. There was a hint of deference in his tone, but since the moment he had kneeled in front of her, a move that had sent spirals of confusion through her stomach, he had looked at her with so much kindness, she didn’t know how to receive it and store it all. 

He had stayed close to her side, just talking to her, getting to know her. They had hiked through the woods, looking over their shoulders at where Apollo and Calliope were laughing and joking, and given each other amused looks when Calliope shoved Apollo in the shoulder and he yelped and started to fall, at the way Daisy trotted up and put her paws on Apollo so he couldn’t get up from the dirt. 

There had been an immediate bond between them, and Juliette doesn’t know what it means, that she feels so much more at home with the Burns siblings than she ever did in her real family, but these bonds, the relationship she and Theo have formed thus far, and the lengths they can take it — it’s exciting. She’s got a family in the making. 

And Theo’s kind. There was no resentment she could sense, no residual anger, and she thinks about him, tied up in the basement, the same way she was, looking up at his father, the same way she had, and she thinks, even if he doesn’t know what happened to her, he would understand the betrayal of it all. 

More than anyone else, Theo would get it. But she doesn’t feel like she needs to even bring it up with him; they get each other instinctively now. She is yet so young, he is yet so new to being a vampire, and somehow, they still work. 

He understands why Juliette changed him, after it all. And he doesn’t blame her. 

It feels almost like an absolution. There has been a lingering guilt, even as she recovered, shying away from any sort of outstretched hand that was offered to her. It wasn’t blaming herself exactly, but Juliette knew — knows — there are consequences to every action. 

It wasn’t that she had deserved the torture. But she had made choices, and those choices meant she had to expect some sort of fallout.

Action and consequence, and learning that some things were more than fated, they were patterns. Over and over, roles people play, finding their footing. 

It was her lot, this time around, to suffer the way she had. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t fair, and she wasn’t fine, but it was what had happened. There was no changing it. Theo didn’t blame her and that was all she needed. Everything else and everyone else was less consequential now. 

Although — 

“Safe or not safe,” Juliette says suddenly, surprising herself too. “Taking Theo at his word.” 

Because if he was lying to make her feel better, if he was disingenuous in any way during their conversation, harboring resentment, only to take it out on her in a vulnerable moment…

“Safe,” Cal replies immediately without thinking, and Juliette lets herself take a breath. “Theo takes his time with everything. He doesn’t say anything he hasn’t considered and he doesn’t do anything rash, like, ever. If he told you something, it’s because he meant it. Apollo, on the other hand…” 

Cal keeps talking, and Juliette half listens, but her heartbeat, which had started to pulse faster at the thought of Theo lying begins to return to a normal pace, and she flexes her hands, stretching them from the fists they have been resting in on her lap. 

As she stretches, her right palm twinges in slight pain, a tightness there that she had forgotten about, and she flips her hand over to look at the coin-sized scar in the center of her palm, a shine where the light touches it, the stretch of her palm causing an itch she does not know how to scratch. 

“Does it hurt?” Calliope is hushed. Juliette didn’t know she was even paying attention. 

“No,” she says, then reconsiders. “A little. But nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You can handle a lot,” Cal lets the words hang in the space between them, nothing more than an acknowledgement of fact, and it makes Juliette feel seen, somehow. “But it’s okay to say this hurts. Your scale doesn’t have to shift because you’ve been through a lot.” 

Juliette flexes her palm again. “Things are different now.”

Cal nods. “And what you have had to cope with is different too. But that doesn’t mean that it should be the litmus test for all of your pain.” 

Juliette hums in response, her thumb rubbing over the scar. 

Cal continues, “When Paolo was talking about giving Oliver a chance, just talking…did you believe him?” 

“Should I?” Juliette looks up. 

Cal shrugs. “I don’t know him, so I can’t tell you. But you can read heartbeats.” 

Juliette considers that. “He didn’t sound like he was lying, but I don’t really know what a chance looks like with someone like Oliver. He’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t care who he screws over and that he and Carmen are just gunning for the Emerald Malkia.” 

Calliope nods. She pauses, and Juliette can tell that Calliope is unsure on whether or not to say exactly what she’s thinking. 

“Say it,” she tells Cal, goading her without really even meaning to. 

“You stopped for a while in front of him. D’you…would you go with him? Take over and rebuild the way you want to?” 

Juliette lets the question sink in. She thinks about it, really tries to consider a world where Oliver and she can share the burden of leadership, yoked together without pulling at each other too hard. She tries to fathom a world where he sees her as equal instead of someone with power he can use. 

Paolo had shown them the inside of the compound, the new community where they were making legacies all their own; no one fate was stronger than any other. Everyone was free. And maybe there were limitations too — no community was perfect, after all. But from the little she had seen, it was a better start than what she was living through.

She thinks about gentle Theo, bending on one knee before her, bumbling Apollo, full of bluster and good intention. She looks at Calliope’s profile, regal, golden in the light. 

“No,” she says. “No, I wouldn’t stay with Oliver. But I needed you to remind me.” 

Calliope pulls into her own driveway and Juliette feels a fist in her chest unclench. She doesn’t know if she is relieved or disappointed — relieved for the interminable day to be over, disappointed that her time with Calliope has come to an anti-climactic end. 

Juliette is disappointed, almost. There’s a part of her that didn’t want the day to end, no matter how exhausting it had been. It felt familiar, déjà vu, following Calliope into battle, fighting by her side. Juliette likes it. She likes the way they know each other in the heat of battle, the way they recognize what the other is thinking, even through all of their personal turmoil. 

Knowing someone the way they do, understanding each other like that, is special. They might not understand the nuances of the other person — they never even got the chance to learn each other, Juliette admits to herself now, they just jumped in, headfirst, because they didn’t have time before — but they know how to protect each other in conflict. Mostly. 

The “mostly” is the crux of the matter. Calliope has her back — until she doesn’t. And Juliette can’t be certain that there wouldn’t be another boundary, another line that Calliope won’t cross, but can’t name until it is broken. 

Juliette has to decide if sticking around for that is worth it. 

Because, on her end? 

It was never in question. She was all in for Calliope from the moment they had locked eyes across the cafeteria. Or, hell, even before that, the first moment that Juliette had lain eyes on Calliope walking into school, her hair a cloud, her eyes dark and mysterious and utterly captivating. 

Juliette, though, had no allegiances half as strong as Calliope did. And at the end of it all, that is what the betrayal came down to. Calliope had been firm: her family came first. Juliette knew this. 

It had been different to see that in action, to have to feel it, but she had known. Calliope had made it clear. 

And in the end, Calliope had helped, more than once now. Calliope was trying and sticking around and listening and apologizing and if the best apology was a change in behavior, Calliope had been apologizing a hundred times over. There was no way to make sure it was a permanent change, but this was a leap of faith. If Calliope was — is — who Juliette wants, then she has to jump. 

So far, Cal has always caught her. 

Calliope turns the engine off, and neither of them move to get out of the car, sitting in the stillness they have created. Juliette doesn’t know why she is staying quiet. 

“Um,” she begins to say, looking at where she had parked her car, out front still from earlier that day, but as she went to speak, Calliope interrupts her. 

“Hey, look, I’m sorry about my brothers. I know they can be a lot,” Cal rubs the back of her neck embarrassedly. 

And Lilith, if Juliette ever needs more evidence that Calliope doesn’t understand how different their familial situations are and have always been, this sentence is enough. 

How can Juliette express what her family is like? 

That they loved each other but every moment of that love was lined with criticism or that they love each other enough to the point where highlighting flaws in cutting ways counts as a pastime? That sitting in bed and being called down to the dinner table was a trial, but knowing her whole family was under the same roof used to relax her? 

That she loves her parents just as much as they don’t understand her? 

That Elinor will never be someone she trusts, but every dead body and every fear Juliette has ever felt will be something they share forever? That her whole family knows each other inside and out and they don’t like each other very much but they have eons to work things out, that relationships like the ones the Burns family has with each other is special because they don’t take it for granted? 

Instead, Juliette laughs lightly. “No, don’t be. They’re great. I wish I had a relationship with my siblings the way you do.” 

“Well,” Cal looks up shyly. “They were all I had for a while. Growing up the way we did…there were no other kids. We were each other’s best friends and playground bullies and the whole nine yards.” 

“Yeah?” Juliette smiles. “In my house, Elinor and Oliver were inseparable for a while, but I was too little to keep up. They’d hide from me, and the house is big, so I’d go in circles trying to find them, but they’d move before I could catch them.”

“I’m sorry,” Cal offers. 

“Don’t be. Elinor and I got close during her freshman year of college, like I told you. And when she moved home we got even closer. And you know, surprisingly, I don’t feel like I need to get any closer to Oliver.” 

Calliope’s face turns more serious. She reaches out and adjusts the rearview mirror, straightening it, not looking at Juliette as she asks her question. 

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?” 

Juliette shakes her head immediately. “Are you kidding?” 

But Calliope is stone-faced. “Seriously, could you?” 

“I mean, I could,” Juliette looks over. “But why the hell would I? What has he done for me to forgive?” 

“He’s your brother,” Cal argues. 

Juliette doesn’t know why Calliope is arguing so hard for Oliver’s forgiveness, of all people. “And? I don’t even know him that well, Cal. He was in Prague, and then he was being manipulative, so excuse me if I don’t feel obligated to forgive an essential stranger for fucking with my life.” 

Calliope takes a deep breath. Her hands are in her lap, and Juliette can’t help the rising frustration. She’s sure an unhappy blush has made its way to her cheeks, but she can’t help but stare over at Calliope incredulously. 

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you even care about him?” Juliette demands.

“No, you’re right,” Cal says. Her fingers fidget. “You aren’t obligated to forgive strangers that ruined your life. And you shouldn’t forgive me. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” 

Juliette laughs in disbelief. “What the fuck?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” Cal starts, taking a deep breath. “About what would be healthiest.” 

“Oh?” Juliette asks, interest piqued. “Healthiest for who, exactly?” 

“Well, um,” Cal trips over her words, looks flustered. “For you- for us? I mean-” 

Juliette shakes her head. “And now you’re trying to make decisions for me too? Cal, I came to you today.” 

“I’ve been pushy!” Cal protests. “I’ve been forcing myself back into your life, and it’s selfish, because of course I want to be where you are, but is it what’s best for you?” 

“Let me figure that out,” Juliette almost shouts back. “Let go of the freakin’ control here, Calliope. I’m a big girl.” 

Cal raises her hands, turns her torso so she is facing Juliette more fully. “No, I know, I know, I just-” 

“No, because it sounds like you don’t trust my judgment,” Juliette shoots at her. 

“It’s not that,” Calliope shoots back, and she’s getting defensive. Juliette shouldn’t feel as pleased as she does about the thought of an argument, but she’s been in her head for a while now, and after the emotional turmoil of the day, this is letting out steam she didn’t realize she had pent up in her chest. 

“Then what is it?” 

“I feel guilty, okay? And I know I should. But I don’t know what I can do to make it right. Or if there’s anything I can do, ever, that will make it better. But I told you I would try, and I meant it, and I’ll die trying, okay Juliette? I will die trying to keep this promise to you. And to keep you and your heart safe.” 

Juliette pulls away, gets as far as she can while still in her seat. The air has been sucked out of the whole car. She can’t breathe; before she realizes, her hands are scrabbling on the handle, and she is falling out of the car, planting her feet on the ground, and scrambling to stand in the open air. 

Calliope is getting out too, muttering, fuck, shit, under her breath, but Juliette has to spin away, one hand over her chest, head tilted towards the sky. 

She breathes, holding the air in her lungs, then blows it out, repeats until she’s calm and back to herself. Her fangs don’t pop out though, the whole time. She had just fought earlier, true, still coming down from that, tired after the long car ride, but her fangs have always made their presence known at the first blush of danger. 

Her body had always launched straight into defense before, but now, after Calliope had stepped between her and Oliver, between her and Paolo…

Calliope is close by, not quite touching her, but making her presence known, grounding and still, calming beside her, and the scent of coconut and lavender is as soothing as ever. 

Still there is a shiver that runs through her as the wind blows. The smell of Calliope shifts, and Juliette swears she can smell the musty basement seep out for a moment. 

But when she looks up, all she sees are Calliope’s brown eyes, mournful and pleading, apologetic to the highest degree.

“You can’t yell,” she says, voice trembling. “Not when we’re that close.” 

“I’ll do better,” Calliope promises. Another one to the list.

“And you have to listen when I tell you what my boundaries are. If I didn’t want to forgive you or spend time with you, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“But you’d tell me?” Calliope asks hesitantly. “If it’s too much. If I’m too much, the way you just did.” 

This is going nowhere. Juliette knows how to fix it. 

“Ask the question,” Juliette instructs. 

“The- oh,” Cal’s look of confusion smooths out. “Safe or not safe, letting you tell me when it’s all too overwhelming.” 

“Safe,” Juliette tells her, tries to assure her, tries to convey I can do this, let me do this. “Safe or not safe, trusting your promises?”

Calliope — no, it’s Cal, and she’s just Jules right now — laughs a little.

"You can hear when I lie," Cal reminds her, and Juliette nods hesitantly. "Does it sound like I'm lying?"

And that's the thing —  it doesn't. 

But still —  safe or not safe.

“I need you to say it,” Juliette looks up at Calliope. “I need this.” 

“Safe,” Cal rushes to say. “I mean it.” 

“It’s not going to be easy,” Juliette warns. “Forgiveness isn’t a straight line, but this is how you make it up to me, if you want to. This is where we start.” 

They set rules, sitting there outside of Calliope’s house. 

They discuss what touching is okay, how to talk to one another, what honesty looks like. 

Juliette asks for eye contact and keeping promises. Calliope asks for communication and quality time, if Juliette thinks she can handle it. 

They make agreements. 

It’s the most cordial they have ever been, the most formal, but Juliette gets into her car and drives away feeling like something has settled into place between them. It feels almost mature, the way they have decided to settle things; it is structured, how they have decided to rebuild. They have a plan. 

This time, Juliette thinks they will be able to actually lay a real foundation. They have a real chance at something here. They can follow this blueprint.

It starts slowly, the way she had asked.

They spend every day apart at first, but once a week, Juliette will send a text, make her way to their rooftop, and Calliope will be there within fifteen minutes, like clockwork. 

Juliette always smells her before she sees her. The familiarity of the coconut and lavender soothes her, no matter her mood: when her nerves are frayed and raw, it lets her be still. When she is already feeling good somehow, those nights when things seem possible and hope is in reach, it makes the evenings better. 

Calliope will sit close, but not too close and let Juliette talk. She will listen well and speak up too, and Juliette enjoys their nights.

The weight of her presence is heavy and solid; it’s real in ways dream-walking isn’t, and that’s been part of the challenge too, controlling the journeys she takes in her dreams. Seeing Calliope at night, before going to sleep helps Juliette brace herself against the loneliness of her nights.

There is a steadiness to them now, a cordial comfort that they build, slowly. 

It does not come easy; Calliope is back at school soon after they start, and the first night she is late, she shows up a full half hour after Juliette’s text. 

“I’m so sorry,” Cal pants out. Juliette meets her at the edge of the fire escape, and there is a frown on her face, she can feel it, but she offers Calliope her hand anyway. 

“Didn’t think you were going to show up,” Juliette pouts, fully aware she’s pouting. She lets the emotion show. The pettiness is not meant with malice, though they haven’t reached the level of regular playful teasing that they once had.

“I should have texted,” Cal smiles sheepishly. “I got caught up in this essay for Mr. Porter, I don’t know if you know but we’ve moved away from Flannery O’Connor and we’re doing short stories now, “The Lottery” and “The Ballad of the Sad Café” and lots more stuff, it’s interesting, the way they comment on the social condition of the South at the time, the way it’s from a woman’s perspective, even if they’re mainly white women, and-”  

Calliope cuts herself off. “And you don’t care about my homework.”  

But Juliette is fighting to keep a neutral expression on her face, to not let the affection she feels shine through too obviously. 

“No, keep going,” she says instead, taking Cal’s hand and pulling her over to their corner. Calliope lets herself be led. 

Juliette folds herself down and rests her cheek on one hand, watches the setting sun play on Calliope’s high cheekbones. “I’m going to need to catch up eventually, you might as well get me started now,” she encourages. 

And it’s all Calliope needs to keep talking, going on and on about her understandings about these sad tales with hopeful morals, all of the flawed people she keeps reading. 

Some nights are like that, where Juliette is content to listen. She doesn’t always want to talk; she doesn’t always have anything to say.

And it’s good, she thinks, to have Calliope open up too. Even hearing the petty things — like, it’s not that she didn’t know how smart Calliope was, but hearing her talk about literature and Shakespeare is an inspiration all its own. 

And Cal gets personal, some nights too.

They talk about the future of the Guild, the updates that Theo and Apollo send regularly, and Cal has a vision for the places the hunters can go; she wants hunting to be reduced to only the areas where humans are actively getting hurt. The guild cannot decide who is worthy of protection, she is fierce about that point, but if people are being hurt, she will champion the defenseless. 

She talks about how empty her house feels, how she knows her mother is sad, but she doesn’t want to get into it. She says that without her brothers in the house, it is still and quiet, and Cal has never had that in her life, no matter where in the world they were. 

Cal looks up and there are never tears in her eyes when she tells Juliette not to worry. But when she assures that it’s good enough for now, Calliope’s voice always trembles. There are things Calliope holds back.

She doesn’t ever want to unload her guilt on Juliette, but Juliette watches as Calliope holds onto it. The burden doesn’t seem to dampen her smile, but it weighs her down, and Juliette doesn’t know how to bring it up.

Cal never talks about her father, but Juliette hears his name in the pauses. She feels the weight of his presence. She will never stop feeling the weight of his decisions. But Calliope doesn’t say his name, so Juliette just keeps reading between the lines. 

Juliette knows that Cal misses them all, her brothers, her father, even Tess, the tight knit family she grew up with. She wonders if Calliope blames her for the loss at all; Juliette forces the thought from her mind. 

Instead she focuses on the other parts of the story: Cal sits with Ben at lunch nowadays. They’re friends. Juliette finds that the idea makes her happy. She has at least introduced one positive into Cal’s life — anyone would be lucky to have Ben to take care of them. 

Whenever the conversation shifts to Ben, Calliope always tentatively broaches the topic of Juliette’s eventual return to school. Juliette is still technically “out sick”, and she knows Elinor has had something to do with the logistics of her prolonged absence from the classroom, but it’s a small blessing to not have to worry about getting back and being around so many humans right away.

But Ben keeps asking, even though he comes over once in a while, climbs in through the window and spends the night. He bothers Calliope, needles her with questions and leaves the tender nighttime conversation for his sleepovers with Juliette. 

Cal stretches her legs out and shakes it, pulling a face like she’s got a cramp. “Your boy won’t leave me alone about when you’re coming back.” 

“Ben?” Juliette asks. She reaches out and massages at Calliope’s calf. Cal grimaces but relaxes into the touch as Juliette presses harder. 

“Mm, who else,” Cal grits out. “Shit, that’s-” 

“Too hard?” Juliette asks, pulling her hands back immediately with concern. 

Cal shakes her head, taking Juliette’s hand and guiding it back to her leg. “Too good. Please don’t stop. No, but Ben — don’t you see him as much as I see you?” 

Juliette laughs lightly. It’s not forced. She starts massaging again. “He said he doesn’t want to bother me with that type of stuff. He says he ‘doesn’t want to waste our limited time on logistics’.” 

“But he wants to bother me?” Cal groans exasperatedly. “He wants to waste my limited time on logistics? What kind of wingman is that?”

“He’s dedicated to himself and his goals first and foremost,” Juliette pulls a solemn look on her face, but cracks at Calliope’s raised eyebrow, and starts to laugh. 

Calliope laughs too. The sun is low in the sky, and the river is beautifully lit down below. There is a steady hum of tourists today, but it’s not loud. They are hidden away from the very edge this evening, and the slight breeze brings the hint of coconut and lavender to Juliette’s nose. The edges of Cal’s hair dance on the wind, and Calliope is beautiful now, in this light and in every other. 

Juliette hasn’t thought about intimacy in a long time, but she’s thinking now. It’s confusing, the fact that through it all, she never stopped wanting Calliope.

But Calliope is beautiful and smiling, and waiting for her. Calliope has made promises. 

Calliope’s lips are curved up, and her neck is long and luscious and her eyes sparkle in the remaining sunlight; Juliette is captivated by her. It’s almost frightening, the pull Calliope still has.

The laughter dies down, and Calliope doesn’t pull her legs out of Juliette’s grasp, even as she watches Juliette fiddle with her fingers, tapping a pattern into Cal’s long shin. 

Juliette thinks about forgiveness. The path that they are on. The foundation they are building together.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Cal says, so openly earnest, that something dislodges in Juliette’s chest. 

“Me too,” she says. And means it.

It’s easy some days. They can talk, open up, and it’s fine. Juliette is fine. 

But some nights, she walks through memories that she can’t remember as soon as she blinks back into the world of the living. All she knows is her racing heart and sweat-soaked shirt that hangs heavy around her frame. Dark bags hang heavy under her eyes no matter how much blood she drinks, and her mother levels her with heavy stares as Juliette makes her way out of the house, but doesn’t say a word. Juliette wouldn’t tell her anything anyway. She has still not spoken to her parents, but that conversation requires a maturity and a confidence she doesn’t think she has yet; in the meantime, Elinor has tried to explain the situation to them. It’s all she can give them now.

On the bad days, Juliette is of two minds. She wants Calliope and yet she can’t bear to tell her any version of the truth.

Their love was the library at Alexandria in the way it was beautiful and the center of the world before burning, wholly and completely. They were the old world, in the way nothing was ever the same again. 

But humanity had persevered, despite the loss of their center of knowledge; mankind had fallen into dark times and the height of cruelty, but it made way for a new birth, a renaissance, and Juliette was ready to emerge, molded and chipped into shape from the rough marble she been hewn from. 

Every new moment with Calliope etched a smile deeper into her face. Her body would never forget the blasts, the fire and brimstone that had rained down, but could still come back. She was a monster, after all, something inhuman, with potential no one — not ever she herself — understood yet. Her lifetime lay out before her, long, winding, languorous, and Juliette is ready to see it. 

Calliope won’t want to be with her through all of it; Juliette resigns herself to the possibility of getting hurt again, the act of loss something she forces herself to contemplate. 

Even still, she aches, watching as Calliope turns all of her secrets into ordinary things. She learns to speak again, watching the river ebb and flow in front of them. She tries her hardest to protect herself from the pain of loss on bad days, when she realizes just how little time they have. Another eighty years, if that, and Calliope might be gone but Juliette will look much the same. 

How can it be worth it? Why should she bother working to heal these wounds? Juliette is certain that they will reopen fresh the moment Calliope leaves her for good. 

So she decides, despite it all, despite her wanting — it’s safer in the long run to keep Calliope away. She had a sort of half-life before, and she can sustain that after, with the memories of this brief period to sustain the rest of her endless days. 

Is it better, after all, to walk away from something that she knows will hurt? Something that has hurt before, but different? The age-old question of loving and losing plays in a loop, but Juliette doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to survive either aspect. 

Juliette starts with a lie.

She hasn’t slept, which is the first problem. Her dream-walking makes every day worse, heightens her vampiric tendencies in the daytime, and blurs her reflection in front of blood-shot eyes. She hasn’t hunted, though she aches for a chase, her thighs tensing, cramping in stillness. 

This must be a sort of withdrawal, she realizes. The adrenaline rush is addictive and she’s been hooked. 

But Juliette is determined to get clean. And she’s determined to make sure Calliope is not given reason to worry more; she will not drag Calliope deeper into her darkness. That is a guilt she cannot bear to hold.

The rooftop is damp after a Savannah storm, and when she sits, she can feel the wet concrete bleed through the back of her pants. She readjusts, grimacing slightly, and tries to ignore the weight of Calliope watching her. 

“You look tired,” Cal notes. It’s innocuous, but the sentence annoys Juliette. 

“I’m not,” she says shortly, before realizing that the frustration in her tone does not help to prove her point. 

Cal’s eyes widen at the force with which Juliette responds. “Okay…” 

“I’m okay,” Juliette pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and fiddles with her shoe, tugging at it. “I really am. That was aggressive. I’m sorry.”

She is determined that this conversation will go well. 

Calliope, damn her, does not look convinced. 

“If you’re sure,” she says skeptically. “What have you been up to? I feel like last time, all we talked about was me and my problems.”

Juliette takes a surreptitious breath, plasters a fake smile, and says, “Oh, you know! Just hanging out at home, feeling much better! Completely fine.”

Calliope had been tracing the cracks in the concrete with the tip of her finger, not watching Juliette answer, but every muscle in her body stills at Juliette’s response. 

Juliette reaches, grasps, almost lunges for Calliope’s hand in a wild attempt to seal the deal, alleviating any disbelief Cal might have. 

Cal goes quiet. “Okay.” 

It’s all she says. 

Juliette tries to engage her in conversation after that, but Calliope is noncommittal, in her own head, and Juliette can’t pull her out. 

It frustrates her — why is Calliope the one retreating here? Why can’t Calliope just go along with it? 

They have been meeting on their rooftop regularly for a while now — doesn’t Cal know that this is for Juliette’s healing? She’s doing a shitty job of being unconditional right now, not letting Juliette stew in her own miserable decision. 

Eventually, Juliette stands to leave, and Cal rises to follow too. They make their way slowly, one by one, down the fire escape ladder. Calliope lets Juliette go first the whole time; Juliette gets slowly more furious with every act of kindness and chivalry. 

The tension is choking, like a hand around her neck and Juliette doesn’t even know what to say. Let me distance myself from you so I can run when this gets too close to real again. Let me make sure I will never get hurt at the prospect of losing you. Let me make this choice. 

But Calliope, the stoic trained warrior, does not budge from Juliette’s side. 

Juliette stews as they weave through the sparse crowds along River Street, and she cuts down the side street that will lead them both to their path back home. Calliope is already facing her when Juliette turns, ready to chew her out, say something scathing, say something at all but-

Instead a sound like a gunshot pierces the air. Juliette flinches hard, panic overwhelming her nervous system, and Calliope’s arms are strong and waiting; she falls. 

Calliope helps cover Juliette’s ears and Juliette trembles, lets Calliope steady her, allows Cal to hold her up, leans in and lets herself be caught. 

Calliope searches their surroundings, navigates them to a protected cove between a tree and a house, and looks around searching for the source of the noise, and Juliette can tell when she finds it by the way her shoulders relax. 

“It’s a car backfiring,” she says, relief in her voice. Then, pulling away to look at Juliette’s red, tear-stained face, she poses the one question Juliette absolutely does not want to answer. “You’re okay?”

And Cal’s big brown eyes are so full of a concern Juliette cannot bear to receive — it is so heavy, all of Cal's care. 

“Fine!” she chirps again, trying at confident nonchalance, but it is belayed by the waver in her throat, the tears spilling down her cheeks. 

This time Calliope drops her arms from where they held Juliette up. Juliette shivers at the chill and wraps her arms around herself even as Cal turns away and huffs. Cal makes a noise, and Juliette feels a prickle of worry on the back of her neck.

“What?” 

“No, it’s just,” Cal takes a deep breath to give herself time to find the words. “I get that you don’t trust me, you know? I royally fucked up. There aren’t words to describe how badly you were treated, and that’s my fault. But you pretending and acting like everything’s fine isn’t going to help. I promised you I'm going to try, but I can't do it all by myself. There has to be change both ways.” 

Juliette feels the prickle of worry transform into something like anger. 

“You don’t tell me anything real either,” Juliette pushes back. “You can stand there and listen to me, but it doesn’t count for anything unless you’re actually talking back. we were in my head and you said we’d discuss it later and you haven’t brought it back up.” 

“I tell you about my mom all the time! I talk about school and-”

“And we haven’t talked about your dad once,” Juliette shouts back. Cal flinches like she has been struck across the face. Juliette slumps slightly. “We haven’t talked about him at all, Cal. Not ever. It’s been about you and your mom and your brothers, and me and my siblings, but it was your dad that changed things for everyone. Why won’t you talk about him?”

Cal lifts her gaze to meet Juliette’s weakly. “There’s…I have nothing to say.” 

“No? Nothing to say about how he’s just. Gone from your home? Nothing to say about what he tried to do to Theo, what he did to me?” 

“I don’t forgive him,” Cal blazes. “I never will. He should have known better with all of it. But-” and her face changes, is unsure in a way Juliette recognizes, has seen before in basements. “He’s my dad. I can’t help that part of me is missing him. I’m- I can’t talk about it because I don’t understand it.” 

Juliette laughs hoarsely. “Of course.” 

She watches Calliope’s unsureness transform into something fiery. “I’m not lying to you though. I’m still processing it, but you’re lying, and we said we wouldn’t do that. We were starting over with a clean slate.” 

“I’m-” Juliette cuts herself off. “I didn’t mean-”

“To lie?”

“I don’t want to get hurt.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Cal tries to moderate her tone, but she can’t help but get louder here. 

“I- I know. But eventually, if this works, then one day…” Juliette hugs herself tighter. “I’m going to lose you one day, no matter what. And it’ll be some new fresh hell. It’s better to do it now, when I already feel like this.” 

And to her immediate consternation, Cal takes a step back and laughs. Loudly. Juliette wipes at her face and frowns.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cal says. “And I’m related to Apollo.” 

“Wha-” 

“You might lose me to old age in sixty years so you’re fucking things up now? Just when we were starting to get good again?”

“Time’s not the same for me that it is for you,” Juliette tries to explain. “It moves differently. I have eons stretching out ahead of me.”

“Okay,” Cal allows. “So instead of getting that fraction of your lifetime together, to spend with one another, you’d rather have nothing at all. Instead of letting yourself have the option to be happy, you’d rather make sure you never get hurt again.” 

“I don’t think I’ll survive it,” Juliette admits. Her hands are shielding her heart. 

Cal takes a step closer and Juliette does not flinch. Cal brings her hands up gently to cup Juliette’s cheeks, and softly, quietly, places a kiss on Juliette’s forehead. Juliette feels the heat radiate down her cheeks, into a red blush on her neck. 

“It’s so human to be scared of losing love,” Cal tells her. “But it’s human to try anyway. And no matter what, you’re the most human you’ve ever been right now. All of this vulnerability, the idea of loss — Juliette we carry that around with us always. But I’m still here, despite knowing it’s not forever.”

“I want eons,” Juliette whispers. “Centuries.” 

“I’ll take the next five minutes,” Calliope whispers back, thumbs brushing at Juliette’s tears. “And then ten after that if we’re lucky. Until we run out of time. What do you say?”

“I-” Juliette breaks off. 

“No rush,” Cal says, smiling. “We’ve got these five minutes to make the decision. You can decide again after that.” 

Taking a shuddering breath, Juliette looks over her shoulder. “Safe or not safe?” she asks, her attention coming back to Cal. “Trying with you, like before.” 

Cal smiles. 

“Safe,” she says. “I think we might almost be there. Give it another five minutes.”

Juliette, bolstered by Cal’s love and support, tries to come to terms with her own nature. She will always wrestle, she knows, but there has to be some level of acceptance, some balance where she can allow herself to settle in her own skin without wanting to rip herself free.

She decides for herself what she wants to be, taking the best of her Legacy and the parts of humanity she thinks she can conceivably hold. The two have to coexist — she cares, so much, but the mess and bloodstains are just as much a part of who she is. 

And Cal cheers her on from the sideline, proving her acceptance with every proud nod and shy smile. It is barely even a concession, after all. Calliope has known from the start what exactly she is — the human aspect was the harder side to prove, even if that is how Juliette felt most of the time, deep down. 

They’ve exchanged perspectives: Cal had seen her as a monster, and that was Juliette’s most aching insecurity, her whole life, her proximity to monstrosity. And then when the chips fell and she had no choice but to embrace her nature, Cal brought her back, showed Juliette the humanity she had tried to bury for her own sanity’s sake. 

The process of reckoning her morals with what she needs to survive — it is no easy thing to take her compassion and have to turn it onto herself too. But Calliope is gentle and consistent, reminders that Juliette has to feed to survive, has dark parts but has the light too. 

Juliette starts to remember the parts of herself she is proud of. Her unfettering loyalty, her tenacity, her stubborn streak. And Calliope is part of the light she holds too. Calliope is just as much a part of her heart. 

They are coming back together, but it’s slow and often hard. Juliette has too many nightmares and Calliope has heavy regrets. Calliope has school and responsibilities and when she goes to meet up with Theo and Apollo, Juliette has a hard time trusting that Calliope will return.

They have to choose each other. Over and over. 

They both need reminders. Hard days result in hushed arguments on their rooftop and sleepless nights end with Juliette sitting up in bed and staring at the bright blue light of her phone, Calliope’s name outlined in her messages. 

Some nights she sends a message. Some nights, she thinks Cal can feel her, and Cal writes first. 

After the most difficult moments, they always come back together. No fight lasts long enough to cause a permanent rift, and the comfort Juliette feels now with Calliope outweighs any pride she has to swallow down. 

Juliette will climb up the fire escape and take a breath, and Cal will be there for her, by her side, not touching until Juliette shows Cal she wants the comfort. And she does the same on the days when loneliness plays more profoundly on Calliope’s tired face. Juliette will lean closer, hope that the press of their shoulders against each other does something to drive away the clouds from Cal’s usually bright eyes. 

Sometimes they don’t have to say anything. Some days, Juliette lets the tears fall. Others, she tries to hide them. 

Always, when she calls, Calliope comes. 

The sun sets and they watch the steady descent of the blaze of light. Juliette closes her eyes and lets the heat caress her, play across her face and sink into her skin. She is so grateful she can feel daylight without it searing her skin; daywalker is a term of pride. She will wear it with affection.

But still, there is a hollow in her chest and a lump in her throat. Calliope looks tired beside her, but they are closer than they have been for the months they have been meeting. 

Juliette’s legs are thrown across Calliope’s lap, and she’s leaning on Calliope’s shoulder. It doesn’t look like the position should be as comfortable as it is, but Calliope’s supporting her weight, and Juliette is letting herself be held. 

The night before was long and red and filled with flashes of her own blood on concrete floors. It feels like regression, despite the fact that she can see the progress, that she is sitting here, sprawled out beside Calliope, and not feeling even a hint of fear. 

Still, Juliette looks up and she hopes the tears in her eyes are not as obvious as they feel. “I just don’t feel worth it right now. You deserve someone who’s not going to break down at every loud noise and sudden movement.”

Cal moves slowly, but surely, and Juliette watches as Cal cradles Juliette’s face. She’s soft, and her palms are warm, and Juliette blinks once to let the tears fall. 

Cal wipes them away tenderly with her thumb. 

“It’s my fault this happened to you,” Cal says. “But I’m not staying out of a sense of guilt, or obligation or any kind. I’m here because I believe, at the core of my being, that you’re so good. You’re the best person I know, okay Jules?” 

Juliette hasn’t opened her eyes, she feels her bottom lip tremble as the weight of what Calliope is saying washes over her, but when she opens her mouth to respond, Calliope hushes her gently. 

“No, listen to me. You’re the most worthy thing I’ve ever held.” 

The sleepless nights don’t end. In a show of growth, as a result of promises they have made each other, Juliette asks for what she needs. 

“Safe or not safe,” she introduces cautiously. “Sharing a bed.” 

Cal’s eyes light up quickly. “Safe,” Cal responds surely. 

But Juliette shakes her head. “Not just for me,” she elaborates. “Will it be good for you too?”

“Being with you is good for me,” Cal replies easily. 

“Seriously,” Juliette rolls her eyes, trying to hide her smile. “I think it would be healthier for me probably, but would it mess with things for you?”

Calliope shakes her head. “I want to if you do.” 

“Okay,” Juliette hesitates. “It’s just, I think being in bed with someone — with you — might help? My blanket and the jacket, they don’t smell like they used to, and your scent, waking up surrounded by it…” 

Cal looks at her, eyes soft, smiling. “I get it.” 

“I still have nightmares,” Juliette warns. 

“I know,” Cal nods. 

“I don’t remember everything that happened, I don’t see it all laid out like that. I know some people remember exactly, but it’s not like that for me. But the nightmares…” 

“They can be bad,” Cal finishes, guessing. When Juliette nods, she keeps speaking. “I know it’s not clear for you and I hope you never actually have to see it, the way everything happened. But I’ll stay up with you if you want. I…if you have any questions about what happened, I have answers.” 

Her voice breaks, and Juliette cranes her neck to look up. Calliope’s eyes are wet, but she is not crying. 

“I’m never going to forget,” Cal says eventually. “It’s going to haunt me forever. I’d like it if I woke up and I could see you safe beside me. There were too many nights when I woke up and you weren’t there. I’d like to be able to roll over and see you.”

“The dream-walking…” Juliette muses. “I can’t control it. What if I pull you in with me?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cal assures her. Juliette thinks of the last time she pulled Cal into her subconscious, the breathless panic she had felt resonate from Calliope, but Cal’s gaze is steady, earnest, eager. 

“Little things set me off,” she warns. “I get overwhelmed. I can’t always stop myself from reacting.” 

Cal just smiles and flexes her bicep with a cocky grin. “I can handle myself I think.” 

Juliette surprises herself by laughing. “Can you now?” 

Cal smirks. “Come and tussle if you wanna.” 

“Rain check,” Juliette promises. And then, more seriously, with real gratitude, “Thank you. I think it’s really going to help.” 

There are no good nights at first. Juliette refuses, outright, to venture over to the Burns residence, and Calliope cannot begrudge her that boundary, so every night, she sneaks out her window. 

Cal has mentioned something about Talia seeing her and not stopping her, but Juliette doesn’t really let herself consider the implications of what that might mean. It’s already a change; she can’t handle considering what Talia’s approval might mean.

At first, being in the same bed with Calliope is suffocating. Everything smells like coconut and lavender, and sweet, life-giving, thirst-quenching blood. Calliope is an oasis in the middle of a desert, and Juliette is working on her control and she is so, so thirsty. Calliope has made it clear that she is willing, but Juliette refuses. She knows that once she tastes Cal’s blood, she won’t be able to stop. 

She thinks that Calliope will never be able to look at her as anything but a monster if she sinks her fangs into gentle, yielding flesh. Or maybe she will never be able to look at herself in the mirror again. 

Regardless. There are boundaries. Even if she wants to try tasting Calliope like that, to see if the sweetness Elinor had once brushed over her lips is the ambrosia and nectar she remembers it being. 

Control is the question that she does not want to risk yet. 

If it is meant to be it will happen, eventually. There is too much that is yet to be built for her to think that far in the future yet. Juliette is taking things slowly. 

And slowly, slowly, eventually, she finds that she can stand being in the Burns house. 

It's an effort, each night, to sneak Cal into her room, and she refuses to discuss it with her parents, even if she knows they can hear them, smell Calliope as soon as she’s in the house. That boundary will come down at some point, Juliette knows, but right now she isn’t ready to speak with her parents. She can only work on herself so much; Cal feels like a priority. 

But between Elinor’s good-natured teasing and her own discomfort, walking down to the garden door to let Cal in, Juliette decides to try Cal’s house finally.

Cal has been suggesting it lightly, exposure therapy of sorts, especially now that the house is so empty. 

The thought of facing Talia makes Juliette’s stomach drop; the idea of walking past the basement is almost unbearable. 

But the memory of their night in Calliope’s bed is undeniable. And Juliette cannot stop herself from thinking about the tenderness of that night they shared, curled up under Calliope’s covers. 

Juliette reaches for her phone.

Being in the house is surreal. Walking in the front door is foggy, like a dream, and Juliette knows what walking through a dream feels like. 

She feels out of phase, her hand on the banister as Calliope leads her up the stairs. This is only the second time she has come in through the front door on her own two feet, the third time she has chosen to see the inside of the Burns house, the fourth time she has been here.

It’s weird. It aches, like putting pressure on a scabbed-over wound, but not digging in hard enough to re-open closed cuts. She feels a pulling at the stitching that has held her together, and finds that she is healing enough not to bleed. 

Still, entering Calliope’s room and hearing the door slam shut behind her is a relief, blocking the sights, sounds, and smells that are familiar in the worst way. 

Cal’s room is comfortable still, the black and purple and books lining the shelves. Calliope stands unsurely in the middle of the space, her legs twisted over one another, rocking slightly back and forth. She is waiting for Juliette. Cal is taking everything at Juliette’s pace. 

Cal knows how hard this must be, how this has been stressing Juliette for the past week since they decided to try it out. 

Juliette had pushed it off, too, thrice. But this morning, she had woken up, and met Calliope’s eyes, already open, not even sleep stained and watching her carefully, and had asked, her voice rough with rest, “Safe or not safe — your house tonight?”

Calliope had brightened, and had sat up straight. “You mean it?” 

She had not enjoyed being in the house with Margot, Sebastian, and Elinor, Juliette knew, and while the threat level was not negligible, Juliette also knew that she would have ripped apart anyone who dared touch Calliope. 

Her self control was getting better, but it wasn’t perfect yet. They had been scared of her once — yes, scared, no matter what Elinor said. It was wise to remember that she was powerful too. And that there was more power when she chose not to use it. 

But Calliope, despite the obvious discomfort, the worry at the thought of being out-numbered by creatures stronger, faster, and deadlier than her, had stayed every night, offering one arm as a blanket that Juliette clung onto as she slept. 

Here, in Cal’s room now, Cal looked bashful, awaiting Juliette’s approval. Cal wouldn’t protest if Juliette decided she needed to leave, Juliette knows. So she walks closer, up the stairs to Cal’s lofted bed, and drops her backpack on the ground. 

“Gonna join me?” Juliette asks, and she toes her shoes off before splaying out on the bed. 

Cal follows her up the steps, hand on the railing, leaning slightly. She just smiles, adoration in her eyes. Juliette has to look away; Calliope’s soft grin is too bright to look at directly. 

Calliope, her North Star, her daylight. Juliette won’t get burned in her glow. Cal has made promises. Cal is keeping her safe. 

Juliette sprawls out, but Cal sits gingerly on the edge. There is a space between them; Juliette cannot fathom where to start to cross it. 

But Cal knows. 

“Cuddling,” she asks. “Safe or not safe?” 

Juliette loves her for asking. Maybe just loves her in general, but that conversation can’t happen yet, and especially not now. 

They have gotten closer, touched more now that they share a bed, they had come close to cuddling on their rooftop, but this bed, in this house — the rules are different, and Calliope can sense it too. 

“Safe,” Juliette decides eventually. When her body does not cry out at the thought of Cal’s arms enveloping her, Juliette lets herself sit up, meeting Cal halfway. 

And Calliope moves quickly too, taking her spot on her side of the bed, leaning up against the headboard, lifting one arm for Juliette to rest against.

Juliette settles in. Her body unclenches, muscles sinking into the cushion of the couch, legs lying comfortably, spread out across the bedspread. Her hands find their way to Cal’s stomach, and Calliope’s free arm comes down to meet Juliette. Their fingers interlock, and Cal brushes the pad of her thumb against the back of Juliette’s hand. 

Cal’s other hand, the one around Juliette’s shoulders, moves too, rubbing circles slowly. Juliette leans closer to Calliope, folds herself more fully into the embrace. Her senses work overtime, but her eyes are fluttering shut, the comfort too much to fight. There are no bright lights or bitter smells here. Juliette is surrounded by easy reassurance and the knowledge of Calliope on all sides. 

Cal trails her fingers along Juliette’s back, stopping slowly to pay careful attention to certain spots, the parts of Juliette that still sometimes flicker with pain when she isn’t expecting it, like an electric shock. Her nervous system remembers, sometimes, how hurt she has been, and if she’s too relaxed, it knocks her off of her feet.

But as Calliope follows the trail of Juliette’s pain, there is no faint buzz, no lingering sting. Calliope’s touch dances along Juliette’s skin and a pleasant hum fills Juliette’s chest. Calliope spells out an apology with her fingers, and a remembrance of how far they’ve come together, and she makes another promise, with her fingers hovering over Juliette’s covered shoulders. No skin is visible, but Calliope knows where it hurt. 

Juliette is mesmerized by the feeling of Calliope’s caress. She doesn’t know how much time passes, or when Cal starts humming, low and quiet in her chest, more breath than anything else. 

When Cal’s hands still, Juliette makes a soft groan of protest. But Calliope speaks soon enough. 

“Can-” Calliope’s voice cracks, her fingers flexing on Juliette’s back, and Juliette opens her eyes to see Cal biting her lip nervously. 

“Could I maybe…kiss you?” 

Juliette’s slow heart does not take long to start pounding in her chest. 

She’s nervous and she doesn’t know how she feels, but the only flicker of emotion is a familiar nervousness rather than anything more painful, so she looks up shyly, and nods. She is no longer the bold brash girl who darted forward and took what she wanted in the pantry, but she will accept the softness that Calliope offers. 

Cal is nervous too, if her shaky breathing is anything to go by, but Calliope's arms are still steady, still solid everywhere she is pressed up against Juliette, and when their lips meet, Juliette lets herself melt into the familiarity and comfort. 

It’s nothing like their other kisses, no fiery passion and explosive, unrelenting desire. 

It’s want, in its purest form. It is comfort in the best way Calliope knows how to give. And as Calliope rolls them over, hovers her body over Juliette’s and presses closer in bed, Juliette lets herself take it. She drinks it in, and it satisfies more than any blood. 

Cal is willing. Cal is hers and Calliope is trying. Juliette lets herself have this. 

It is nothing more than a press, nothing more than a chaste promise of possibilities, but Juliette’s eyes are pressed shut, and Calliope’s heart is pounding loudly, and Juliette touches Cal’s sternum, feeling the rhythm of each heartbeat vow, safe, safe, safe.

“Okay,” Cal says, pulling away to hold onto a shaky breath. She has one hand cupping Juliette’s chin and the other tucked under the edge of Juliette’s shirt. Juliette is just as bad, both hands on Calliope’s bare hips, under clothes, holding, grasping, feeling Calliope real in her hands. “Okay. We should talk before…” 

Juliette doesn’t pull back as quickly. One hand comes up and musses her hair, but the other she leaves against Cal’s stomach, feeling the soft rise and fall of Calliope’s breathing.

“Before we get carried away,” she agrees, though as she takes stock of herself, she is pleasantly surprised. 

“Right,” Cal blows a piece of hair out of her eyes impatiently, but brings a calm hand up to Juliette’s cheek to push back loose strands there. “How are- well. What did you think about that?” 

Juliette smiles. “I like that.” 

“Oh,” Cal nods. “Me too. Would you want…more?”

Juliette hesitates. It would be so easy to say yes and commit to something here, but she does not want to say something now, in the heat of the moment, and have to take it back later.

“I think so,” she considers, haltingly. “But I can’t guarantee- I mean.” 

Juliette shakes her head, takes a breath, starts over. 

“I’ve been hurt. You know that. And it’s still there, in my skin. It’s not something I’m going to forget about or move on from, even if we…keep going the way we’re going. But I can’t lie to you either, we’re sitting here now, and nothing hurts, not being in this house, not you, and despite it all, there was no way for me to pretend I hated you the way I thought I should have. And you — you obviously don’t hate me either?” 

Cal shakes her head determinedly. 

“Right. So I think,” she looks up pleadingly “We aren’t anything to each other right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t ever be.” 

It’s not the answer she would want to hear, if the roles were reversed, but Cal looks excited.

“I know it’s a process. I know I have work to do,” Cal says. “I never expected — I had given up hope of a future for us, but when you asked me what I wanted for us on the rooftop that one time — I need you to know I’m not going to give up on this. I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m taking this chance for granted. We’re building trust with each other, and I’m more than okay taking it slowly. I hope you can see how much I mean it.” 

Juliette is starting to believe it. Her body knows it can relax in Calliope’s arms, and just like before, she feels herself drift into sleep, encircled completely by Calliope's arms, enraptured by Calliope's scent, keeping herself afloat. 

“It’s working,” Juliette says. She feels it. The trust is growing between them, a sapling starting to stretch its roots down. 

Their relationship the first time around had been superficial, if she thinks about it now. It was lust and like and circumstance, throwing them together. There was an understanding between them.

But now — they have both had to grow up so much in such a short time. Calliope has made promises and kept them, and Juliette can feel her faith in Calliope surpassing the way it had been before, bolstered as it was by blind naivete. 

“I hope you can see I’m trying too,” Juliette says. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to see Cal’s face if she disagrees. 

Because she has been trying. Every night in the same bed has been an exercise in self-control, retraining her fangs to follow her brain instead of her boundless hunger; Juliette has made sure to keep her instincts in check. She jogs now, circling familiar neighborhoods and feet thumping rhythmically on sidewalks. It’s not for her health, but it’s as close a substitute as she can allow herself now. She refuses to engage in any chase. 

The coping mechanisms she has found are short-term perhaps, temporary definitely. She can’t sleep beside Calliope forever, can’t rely on this other person, wonderful, selfless, and giving as Calliope may be, to bolster her through this nostos, this coming-of-age, this home-coming, as Juliette returns to herself. 

But it’s a start. 

She hopes Cal knows how hard she’s trying. 

They’re not girlfriends by any stretch of the imagination. There is no label that feels right for them and what they have endured. 

The wanting is enough. Juliette listens to herself; she knows what she feels. And they can make their way back to one another, just based on that. 

“C’mere,” Cal says, and she’s smiling. Juliette considers herself, listens to her own body, every rolling instinct and muffled sound of panic, and when there is no mutiny between what she needs and what she wants, she falls forward into Calliope’s strong and waiting arms. 

She is not panicking here. Forgiveness and trust are roads they are walking, and Juliette can accept Calliope’s outstretched hands when they are offered. She can let Calliope help her here. 

Despite it all, Calliope has made promises. Juliette doesn’t know if she can trust her own mind and body most of the time, but she trusts Cal to tell her what is safe.

Calliope catches her, holds her upright, and Juliette lets her tiredness pour out. Calliope does not struggle as Juliette sags, and Juliette tucks her cheek against Cal’s chest, the steady thump of Cal’s beating heart as tantalizing as always. 

But Juliette can resist. She won’t hurt Calliope, not now, not ever. She is not a monster unless she chooses to be — but it is a decision she can make. 

She presses her ear more closely to Calliope and listens closely to the rushing blood in Calliope’s veins, proof that the girl holding her is still wonderfully and blissfully alive. Calliope is choosing her now, and willing to protect her too. 

Juliette nuzzles in more, and Calliope’s strong arms tighten around Juliette’s shoulders. She hums in pleasure and breathes in deeply through her nose. The scent of coconut and lavender welcomes her home. 

Her scars never showed up on her skin; they never will. Her body has been healed a hundred times over, renewed with every fresh offering of willing blood, but Juliette can still track every inch of hurt. 

And she knows that Calliope can see them too. Calliope lays gentle kisses along Juliette’s wrists at every opportunity, lavishes little pleasures along all of Juliette’s slim fingers, kisses the small of Juliette’s back, and the electricity that arches through her now does not sting. 

If they are the only two people who remember where the scars would fall, Juliette will be satisfied. 

Calliope knows. Cal remembers. 

And for now, she reminds Juliette every day the worth and weight of human love. 

It’s enough.