Staying with Calen in his cult base was far from pleasant.

After I made my way back, the entire affair was surprisingly... quiet. I didn't bother bringing any real luggage, partly to spite Calen in some small way and partly to signal to Dante that something was out of the ordinary. When Calen asked why, I said I was focused on getting outside to his agent before anyone killed Dante again.

Luckily, he seemed to buy it, though he also said I'd forget about Dante soon enough.

Yeah, that wasn't happening.

After a few days, though, I was exhausted.

Part of that had to do with the fact that Calen insisted I live in his room, and there was no way in hell I'd fall asleep in the same room as that bastard. I declined to even lie down on the same bed, instead curling up on the sofa to wait out the night.

The other part of why I couldn't sleep was because I tried to use the nights to plan. If I couldn't do anything else but lay there and think, I could at least think about something productive.

He hadn't tried to put the tattoo on me. I was sure that he wanted to, but that tattoo required active consent. Unfortunately for Calen, just about anything he could leverage against me was already covered by the witch's promise. Even Callie was covered, as I considered her part of my family, and I hadn't specified blood family.

Intention was important in witchcraft. Words needed to match the intention, but if bonds were strong enough, they could transcend the wording. I knew enough about that from working with the Threads. At the very least, the people I loved were safe from Calen.

I grumbled as I paced around the office for perhaps the twentieth time today. It was incredibly annoying being stuck in here, but the only other option was the bedroom, and I certainly wasn't going to stay in there. Calen insisted that someone be there to watch me at all times to make sure I stayed within my parameters, despite the witch's promise. He probably thought I'd try to wiggle out of it.

It was a good instinct. I was definitely trying to wiggle out of it, but I couldn't do that until I was absolutely sure that Dante was no longer under watch with an assassin ready to go at any moment.

So, for now, I picked unmarked books at random off Calen's office bookshelves, halfway amazed that so many of them had survived the fire, and spent my days under the watchful eyes of a vampire enforcer.

"Why do you think you don't have the tattoo they do?" I asked carefully, looking up from my book. I wasn't really reading, just thinking very hard and pretending to read, but he didn't need to know that.

The vampire scowled. "I can't be caught with it on the other side of the Veil."

"Mm," I hummed noncommittally. "Interesting."

I tried to gather information when I could, but also to approach it in the calmest way I could. The last thing I wanted to do was push too hard and trigger alarm bells.

Thus far, I'd been able to gather that Calen had agents on the other side of the Veil, though it seemed a sore point that there wasn't anyone on their side directly within the Sylvan Court. I'd only heard snide remarks about it so far, but that was enough. I now knew that any agents keeping watch on Dante would have to do so incredibly carefully and from a distance.

"Let's go, pipsqueak," the vampire finally sighed, stretching his arms. "Time for dinner."

I rolled my eyes. That was another thing- Calen insisted we eat together at least once a day. Usually that was some kind of evening meal or snack, and tonight was no different. I grudgingly rose from my seat on the sofa and walked towards the door, ignoring whatever pace the vampire wanted to set. I'd get there when I got there.

Initially, I'd expected dinner to take place in a buffet-style setup, but that was far from the truth. Instead, there was a dining room with a counter for taking and picking up orders, where there were a variety of pre-portioned meal options that changed daily. Calen seemed to have the whole place under his thumb, though, and ordered whatever he wanted even without a menu. I'd watched him gnaw his way through beef stroganoff three nights in a row, and it hadn't been on the menu even once since I arrived.

As usual, I found a table in the corner and tried to make myself scarce until Calen arrived. Some people in the dining room weren't actually eating, but using it as an informal meeting space. There were card games, tarot readings, and I thought I could see a few people playing Monopoly on the other side of the room.

I hated Monopoly, for the record. It took too long, and it was only good for annoying people and fostering arguments.

Sometimes people walked over to say hello, but I think my generally grumpy usually scared them away. I was exhausted and not in the mood to talk to brainwashed cult flunkies.

Someone did approach my table this time, though. It was a little strange, but a woman I'd seen around, though never talked to, walked over with an awkward wave.

She looked a little like I'd imagined Nancy Drew might look when I was a child, with strawberry blonde hair and a blue button-down shirt, but she looked significantly more nervous than I'd ever imagined Nancy to be. I wasn't sure what she wanted until she held up a pack of playing cards.

"I'm Elise. Play with me?" she asked, flashing a small smile.

I shrugged, gesturing to the empty seat. Calen wasn't here yet, so all I was really able to do was sit here and twiddle my thumbs. My phone was locked in his desk drawer, and at this point I hadn't been able to crack the lock. Apparently, he'd upped security since the theft of his grimoire.

Elise sat down and almost immediately dumped out the box, starting to shuffle. She explained the rules of a game I'd never heard of, and I did my best to follow along... until the vampire who had been guarding me all day finally rolled his eyes and walked away. I could clearly see Elise let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"You got Callie out, didn't you?" she asked as she dealt cards, voice so low that I could barely hear it. I was immediately on alert, though, my eyes going wide.

I nodded, glancing to see if anyone was watching, but no one was paying attention to our little table. No wonder she'd chosen this moment to come over. Really, Callie got herself out, but if she remembered me as an ally, that was good enough for me in the moment.

"Don't tell me when, but when you move... we've got people," she said. "We're ready. We're with you. There are a lot of us who aren't here because we want to be, and you... don't want to stay here, do you?" Elise's brow suddenly furrowed, as though she was afraid she'd made a grave mistake by talking with me at all.

"No," I whispered. "I'm getting out."

Elise nodded once, and then gathered up the cards. She was clearly trying to present the approximation of playing a game without actually playing one. It was good to know I had allies here, though I understood why she didn't want details. Anyone with that tattoo could be forced to say what they knew at any moment. Resistance was difficult.

Resistance wasn't impossible, though. I'd make sure of that, somehow.

"He says you're his soul mate," Elise said, a little louder. "That true?"

"Sort of," I grumbled. Though I appreciated the subject change to a safer point of conversation in case we were overheard, I disliked this subject.

Calen had a few books on witch soul mates and Sylvan bonding in his office, and I'd managed to get through a couple of them in the last four or so days. More than ever, it was incredibly apparent that witch soul mate bonds were in no way inherently romantic in nature. They were the manifestation of meeting over and over again, of affecting each other over and over again.

And I had noticed, despite the fact that I'd re-tied some sort of bond between Calen and I, that my witch's mark hadn't gone back to the way it was before. It was still mine, and only mine.

Calen asked about it once, and I honestly told him I didn't know. I could guess, though. As I already knew, Threads didn't just reconstitute, and it wasn't easy to put one back once it was broken. There was a Thread between us, yes, but it wasn't the one connected to that mark. I'd shattered the vast majority of that bond already.

I also suspected, based on the history I'd learned and the few things I'd read, that voluntary Sylvan bonds were the origin of witch soul mates. Finding each other through centuries and across lives sounds romantic, sure, but I knew more than anyone that it could also be incredibly confining.

At least, depending on the person. I thought I might like to see Dante again in my next life, and clearly my parents had managed to make it work.

Just as I opened my mouth to explain some version of this to Elise, a shadow passed nearby and a tall figure approached our table.

"Up," Calen said, motioning to Elise. "I'd like to sit with my wife."

I tried not to gag and failed. Elise shot me a look that I couldn't quite read, gathered her cards, and left the table. Calen already had a wine glass in his hand, and he sat down looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

"I am definitely not your wife, we are not married, and we never will be," I said, probably a little too loudly.

"Give it time," he said with a shrug, taking the seat that Elise had just vacated. He picked up one of the menu cards and glanced over it. "What would you like for dinner?"

His head on a platter, Salome style. Or, alternatively, Hannibal Lecter style. That's what I wanted for dinner.

In all fairness, I did have a plan to make that happen. I didn't think it would work. In fact, I was fairly certain that Calen couldn't die at all by any natural means, but it was worth a shot. I'd snuck a dose of poison into my sleeve, distilled foxglove extract with an extra kick that I'd found among Calen's herbal supplies in his office. The vampire guarding me hadn't even seen me take it.

The poison was deadly, of course. I knew that when I took it. However, I didn't think Calen was stupid enough to leave me alone with something he was vulnerable to. I mostly just wanted to... test it out.

"Fine," he huffed, smacking down the menu card. "If you won't choose, I'll order for us."

When Calen rose from his seat to order our food, I took the opportunity to dump the vial in his mostly empty wine glass while his back was turned. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for someone to notice, but no one did. No one came over to stop me, to sniff the wine, to replace the glass.

Calen walked back over, sat down, and started talking as though nothing at all had changed.

"Stressful day. Meetings back-to-back," he said, picking up his glass.

"Must be exhausting running a cult," I muttered, glaring.

"Now, Sunday, you know this isn't a cult. This is a revolution," he said, smiling smugly. His patronizing tone made me want to push him off a cliff, but at least I knew what was in his wine glass when he finished the rest in one swallow.

I fought to keep my expression neutral, and I must have succeeded, because Calen went back to prattling on about something I didn't care about. I wasn't paying attention and I didn't want to hear. Instead, I was counting the seconds on the clock until the poison took effect. He really shouldn't have left an herbalist alone in his office.

The poison didn't take effect instantly, of course, but it was fast-acting. I wasn't expecting him to react to it, really, but I needed to gauge his weaknesses. It was better to be safe than sorry, and hey, if it made him sick then... small victories. Maybe I'd give him mild food poisoning.

"This wine is... stronger than I..." he trailed off, looking almost sleepy for a moment before he collapsed, slumped over the table. The empty glass crashed to the floor, and I could see foam at the corners of his mouth.

Holy shit.

Maybe he was stupid enough to leave me alone with materials that could kill him.

The dining room went silent. I stared in shock, automatically scrambling to my feet to back away from the table. Hands over my mouth, I cautiously took a step closer to examine Calen, but he wasn't moving. He wasn't even breathing.

Even stranger, a few of the Sylvans and witches that I knew were close to Calen simply didn't react. They went back to their cards or their board games, and soon the chatter resumed... even though Calen was... dead.

And he was dead. I checked his pulse myself, and there wasn't one. I hadn't really expected the poison to work. I thought he'd be immune because of his magic or something else, and I didn't... I...

I didn't like the way things felt in my stomach. I wanted to vomit, on the one hand, or... I wanted to want to vomit. I mostly felt relieved, and that scared me. I'd taken a life, and I wouldn't be able to come back from that. Did that even compare to the many incarnations of mine that Calen had killed? Did that compare to all the people he'd forced to do his bidding or coerced into his cult?

Was it okay for me to feel relieved at the idea of him being gone for good?

Then, just as I thought I might really start to spiral, Calen wasn't dead.

Groaning, Calen opened his eyes and pushed himself back into a seated position, wiping the dribbles of foam from his mouth with his sleeve. He smacked his lips as if he had a terrible taste in his mouth, and he probably did. Foxglove wasn't pleasant.

"Cute," he deadpanned, stretching his arms out above his head. "God, that'll leave me dizzy for hours. Where the hell did you get that, anyways? I'm assuming it was you who poisoned me."

I stared. I didn't really think the poison would work, but I didn't expect my failure to go like that. The most surprising part, though, was the way his Threads behaved when he regenerated.

They were frayed and slipping away, but trying to grow back, trying to knit themselves together in a way that was weirdly uncomfortable for me to watch. Threads had never behaved normally around him, and maybe they weren't supposed to, but this was almost alarming.

On instinct, I lashed out with my magic and cut a few of the stragglers. They spasmed in a way that made them seem eerily sentient, and then started to flake apart. Right in front of me, Calen's Threads began unraveling.

Interesting. That wouldn't happen for a normal, healthy individual. They'd grow back, or the energy would redirect, but I didn't see anywhere that this energy tried to move. It was just... fizzling out. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he hadn't totally recovered from dying. Maybe it was something else, something in the balance of our magics that made him different. It was something to keep in mind for sure, though I wasn't sure what to do with that information yet.

"Sunday?" Calen waved his hand in front of me to bring me back to the present, scoffing. "Maybe I'll have to put our tattoo on you to get you to respond."

Anger flared in my chest, and my hands automatically clenched into fists. If I thought I could get away with punching him, I would have, but I needed to wait. Any order he gave me, I'd have to follow. That was the rule of the witch's promise we'd made. I couldn't risk him thinking of an order not to harm him... though I may have just messed that one up with the poison.

Well, too late for regrets now.

"You're not putting that damn puppet tattoo on me!" I snarled, snapping back to attention.. "I know it won't take without the subject's consent, and you will never get that out of my mouth."

Calen's expression twisted in rage, his mouth open as if he planned to speak, but then he suddenly stopped, closed his mouth, and went eerily calm. It was strange how his visage could change so quickly from suave and handsome to a monster from my nightmares... Though, I supposed he'd always look like a monster to me now.

And then he laughed.

"It was you who took my book, wasn't it?" he asked, snapping his fingers. "It's a damn good thing I had copies of the important things, but I'll admit, that caused some trouble for a little bit."

I was silent, glaring at him from across the table.

"Fine, give me the silent treatment," Calen said, shrugging. "You'll come around."

I wouldn't.

The image of his head on a platter got me through the rest of that dinner.