Season content notes: violence, blood
Karen
Karen could have spent hours examining Nastasia’s sharps. Instead, she had a few minutes in the back of a van.
It was a decent collection. Small and mostly K-bar, like Nastasia had said. Karen approved.
There was a false bottom in the knife case. Curious, Karen pulled it up and stared. In the hidden compartment was one of those fantasy ‘weapons’ loved by people who knew absolutely nothing about what makes a good knife. The sight of it was literally painful.
With a whine, Karen looked up at Nastasia, who flushed.
“It was a gift?”
“Who hated you enough to give you that?”
Nastasia laughed, the flush fading. Karen wasn’t sure what was funny, but she liked that she made Nastasia laugh. “One of my few real friends, actually.” Nastasia picked up the ‘knife’ and held it more like a pet than a blade. Which… well, it would make a better pet than a blade, come to it. “Mama worked real hard so we could blend in, there was only so much they could do and still train me properly. It made me the weird one.”
“Oh.” Karen nodded understanding. Being the weird one was hard.
“Dean was my friend anyway. He… well he tried to understand. But there was so much I couldn’t tell him. So when he decided since I was ‘into’ knives and blades, he’d surprise me one year with something he was sure I’d love.”
Karen grimaced.
“Right? It was so hard to not hurt his feelings…”
Nastasia trailed off and there was something in the way she did it that seemed like something was wrong. Unsure, Karen looked to Leyla sitting across from them.
“We can probably find a way to let Dean know you’re safe if you want,” Leyla offered.
Oh, that made sense… but Nastasia was shaking her head.
“No, he– we– we don’t talk, anymore. I pushed him away a few years ago,” she laughed, but it sounded like crying. “No one who thinks this is a good knife can be safe in my life now, you know?”
Karen understood that. “I’m sorry.” She squeezed Nastasia’s hand and took the fake knife back. “I could put an edge on this. It wouldn’t hold, but it would be enough for maybe one good hit. If you put it on a display stand, everyone would think it’s junk and it could be like a concealed weapon that’s right out in the open.” She considered the possibilities and nodded. “It can still be a good gift.”
Benj
Benj sat shotgun — literal as well as figurative: he had a sawed-off shotgun in his lap and scanned the road around them. But while his eyes were on duty, his ears weren’t.
It was soothing to hear Karen being Karen. Benj hadn’t been on the team long before he’d learned to rely on Karen’s steadiness.
He realized that most people wouldn’t think of Karen as ‘steady,’ she could be absolutely wild. But she was always herself. No matter what crazy shit happened, what disaster got dropped on their heads, Karen would be there with her knives and her timelines and her batshit takes acting like it was just another Tuesday.
It was humbling to realize that for her, it was another Tuesday. That he’s been taking for granted — relying on — her ability to deal with crazy while she dealt every day with stuff that would have broken him.
Karen was safe to think about. Not comfortable, not with the pit of guilt and shame burning in his chest. But… comfortable.
Too much had happened too fast. Realizing that Nastasia was breaking under their failure to understand her needs. Learning that the ache in his chest was real, was related to the magic vampire stuff they’d tied their lives to. Sotii meaning spouses, of all things. Nastasia basically proposing to Karen with a kitchen knife. The attack. The surprise allies…
Benj was surprised to find that the last part bothered him the most. The weird vampire stuff was… well, weird vampire stuff. He’d been waiting for it to crop up. He hadn’t realized how much the utter lack of vampire weirdness the last few weeks (aside from the morning cup of blood) had been freaking him out. Until they were waiting for Nastasia outside of the cemetery and that tension he’d been carrying in his neck and shoulders for the last week plus smoothed out.
He didn’t want to think about all the vampire weirdness right now. Expecting it and being able to roll with it were two different things. Which brought him back to Karen. Who was rolling with it beautifully and…
Maybe Benj should just take a page from her book. He didn’t understand all this vampire stuff, but — he glanced back at Marcus — it had given him a chance at something he wanted and never thought he’d have.
Benj glanced in the rearview mirror and was surprised to meet Nastasia’s gaze. He smiled. “Nastasia?”
The happiness from her conversation with Karen dimmed a bit but she said, “Yeah, Benj?”
“What you were telling us before, about being sotii.” And fuck but she tensed up. Benj went on as calmly as he could with his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m not angry. And I want to try to make this — whatever this is — work.”
He only got a glimpse of Nastasia’s smile before he needed to focus front again. But that glimpse was enough.
“Alright lovebirds,” Victor said, pulling into a motel parking lot, “we’re here. You can continue being cute when we’re all inside walls.”
Nastasia
As soon as the doors opened, all of my sotii were back on duty. They surrounded me as we moved from the van to the door to the single room Emil had booked for all of us.
(Thankfully, Ozanna had been able to reach Emil before he came home to a pile of bodies and no sign of us.)
The room was meant for a small family, which meant it was nearly large enough to fit us and our gear when everyone was standing. It got more crowded when Vasile and Marsha squeezed in ten minutes later.
I’d been alright on the ride, alright at Mama’s grave. Alright as long as it was me and my sotii and my grandparents. But the two strangers walking into the room changed things. I didn’t know them. Didn’t know what they expected of me. Didn’t know how to be what they expected of me.
This morning, I’d been completely fucking up with my sotii, and now I needed to be clan leader.
I excused myself to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and covered my face with my hands, trying to breathe through a chest gone tight. Fighting to not cry, not scream.
For several minutes, I sat there, rocking. Facing the truth.
“I can’t do this.”
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