The Strangers of Precedent

Syren watched Bobbi shake a little as she held her wings up, including the stump left from the amputated one.

“You don’t need to be scared,” Skylar assured.

“You should be terrified,” Syren joked, earning a mild glare from the healer, “Where’d you learn this anyways?”

“The Forge has made prosthetics since the days of the fey, not that a feyrie would usually trust mages to build something for them.”

“Who did you make prosthetics for?”

“People mostly, back then. Now, we’re often commissioned for dragons.”

“Right, Singe said something about that. Did he recommend you?”

Skylar flinched. Syren knew she was here through Charmer, but it was fun to make someone squirm.

“I’m gonna use heat to attach the prosthetic,” Skylar warned, “So it may sting a little.”

“How will it compare to your first attempt?” Bobbi asked.

“Significantly lower temperature.”

“Perfect.”

The prosthetic turned red as Skylar placed it on the wing. Bobbi immediately fell to the ground wings first.

“Too heavy,” Skylar noted, heating the piece again as she pulled it away, “Should have seen that coming.”

The initial glass attempts had shattered anytime Bobbi moved too fast, even tempered glass. It seemed metal wasn’t the solution they were looking for either.

“Back to the drawing board,” Bobbi said as she carefully stood up, “Any new ideas?”

“Titanium would be our best bet if any metal can be used, but I get the feeling it would still be too heavy.”

“Worth a shot.”

“How are things going with Singe by the way?” Syren asked. She knew there was important stuff to worry about, but Skylar and Bobbi always got their ideas when thinking about something else.

“Great,” Skylar said, suddenly awkward, “He’s fun to be around, and he’s shown me around town. He’s good company.”

“What about you, Bobbi, how are things going with Singe?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Bobbi said, “It’s not my business.”

“You’re not still keeping a grudge.”

“Of course I’m keeping a grudge. What the fuck else do you expect me to do?”

“Forgiveness is always an option.”

Bobbi scoffed.

“Okay,” Syren accepted, “But the guy knows more than you do. I would have asked him to assist at the start of this.”

“Syren,” Skylar said, “You’re a genius.”

“Of course she is,” Bobbi agreed, “But why are you saying that?”

“I need to check a few things before I tell you.”

Skylar swiftly abandoned them.

“She’s going to get Singe’s help,” Syren guessed.

“I was afraid of that.”

“I know you don’t want to deal with him, but I would have thought that helping you with feyrie stuff would be the least he could do after keeping it from you for so long.”

“Well,” Bobbi stole the bench on Charmer’s porch, “It’s not. The least he can do is stay out my business.”

“And Drake?”

Bobbi groaned, again. Syren was also getting tired of these subjects, but she wanted Bobbi to be less isolated.

“The less said the better,” Bobbi insisted.

“That’s how he feels about the whole thing too.”

Bobbi looked out at the forest.

“Let’s just get out of here. Skylar knows how to call us.”

“Right, you also have a grudge on Charmer.”

“You weren’t there.”

“Maybe that’s why you still tolerate me, because I haven’t been around.”

Bobbi ignored her. Syren continued following.

“How are things going with Peter?” Bobbi asked.

“Low blow.”

“How’s your brother?”

“He’s doing alright. Apparently Singapore street food is next level.”

“I wish I could have street food.”

“Food-allergy contamination risk?” Syren guessed.

“Bingo. So, how’s Peter?”

“He’s doing alright with school and all. He appreciated hearing how you burned a confederate general alive.”

“Do vampires count as alive?”

“Excellent question.”

They made their way out of the forest, and moved toward the Branded Flyer.

“I heard they’re selling a drink inspired by new superhero in town,” Syren said.

“Vigilante,” Bobbi corrected, “Superhero makes them sound infallible.”

“But isn’t it cool we have one in our town?”

“For what?” Bobbi asked, “It’s not like she’s fighting vampires or something. I mean yeah, the faux peacekeepers sucked ass, but they were normal guys. Anyone could have handled them. What is she still running around for?”

“Maybe people keep getting killed,” Syren offered, “Without an obvious culprit.”

“So she’s investigating vampire victims?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Bobbi elaborated as Syren opened the café door, “I’m sure she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but I’m not sure it actually is the right thing, you know?”

“I guess I get it, but why do you care so much?”

Bobbi shrugged.

“I guess I’m a contrarian at heart.”

“That, I can agree with.”

“I’m sorry,” a pale, lanky man came up to them in line, “Did I hear you two mention vampires?”

“We were talking about Nightingale actually,” Bobbi said, “I said it’s not like she’s fighting vampires.”

“Oh,” the man nodded, “Do you know where Franklin Monstro is, and old friend of mine lives with him apparently, and I wanted to pay him a visit.”

A pale person who asked about vampires, then said he was visiting Drake. They’d had the plan for this together weeks ago.

“It’s hard to get to,” Syren lied.

“Well, not exactly,” Bobbi said, “It’s just a hike. Take a straight shot through the forest.” she pointed the direction they just came from, “It’s a cabin with a garden in the front, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much, ladies.”

They breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away.

“We’ve got to tell Vlad,” Bobbi insisted.

“I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with him.”

“This is more important.”

She grabbed Syren before they could give their order, pulling her toward Frank’s house.

“So,” Skylar asked after Singe brought her coffee over, “What’s your relationship to Bobbi again?”

Singe hesitated.

“She’s like family, I guess, family that hates my guts right now, but family.”

“I definitely noticed how fond she wasn’t.”

Singe chuckled.

“Yeah, I kept something from her that she couldn’t forgive me for.”

She brought her intertwined hands against her face, clearly thinking about something. It was cute, but not always the best thing to be directed at yourself.

“Why are you asking me?” Singe asked.

“I told you I was here to meet somebody, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It was Bobbi. I’m a healer.”

Singe clenched a fist. The only reason he hadn’t called Draco was because he didn’t know what favor he’d be asked, but why bring a stranger into the circle? He didn’t see Bobbi accepting that.

“Is there a problem?” Skylar asked.

“Not with you, I just know a healer a little bit more familiar with Bobbi.”

“I promise I’m a better choice,” Skylar said without much tone.

Singe shrugged. Bobbi probably wouldn’t have let Draco close enough to examine her. If she trusted Skylar, then that settled things.

“So you’ve examined—”

“I know about her secret, yes,” Skylar said simply, “Syren said you knew more than Bobbi did, so I really hope you also know.”

“Yeah,” Singe said, “The secret I kept is that I didn’t tell her what I knew soon enough.”

Skylar grimaced.

“I’ve never seen one,” he defended, “She didn’t fit the descriptions.”

“She’s younger than I am, and the hair—”

“Yeah, I know about the hair. What can I say? I grew up in Magek.”

“So did I.”

“I grew up among zmeu.”

“Is hair color—”

“Yes. I knew a lot of people with colorful hair.” he lifted a bit of his own, “I wasn’t even born with black hair.”

“You weren’t born a zmeu?”

Singe shook his head.

“Then how did you grow up—”

“I was young when I became one, the best devastating life-event I could ever ask for.”

Skylar smiled into her drink, before taking a hasty sip when Singe stared at her. He looked away.

“I’m building Bobbi a prosthetic,” Skylar revealed, “But—How long have you known Bobbi?”

“Since over a year ago.”

“And when did you end up on bad terms?”

“Nine months—Earth calendar.”

Skylar’s eyes were moving back and forth.

“Twelve months in a year,” Singe offered.

“So you only had a little over three months of goodwill with her, total?”

“Seven months.”

“And she’s like family?”

Singe didn’t trust this line of questioning.

“Why is my relationship to Bobbi so important to you?”

“I know you are not, technically, a dragon, but zmeu have draconic traits.”

What the hell was she talking about?

“A normal rider, even the dragon queen, wouldn’t have any effect on you because you’re not imbalanced in the way a dragon normally would be, but they’ve always been trying to fill a gap that the—Bobbi’s people—”

Singe slammed the table, denting it slightly. Skylar stared at the damage.

“Wow.”

Singe took a deep breath.

“There is a part of me that is draconic, yes,” Singe said, “But I’m not someone in need of a rider.”

“Sorry,” Skylar said, “I beat around the bush a bit too much. The fey had a different relationship with dragons than riders do, a stronger relationship, so I think you and Bobbi may have imprinted on each other in some way.”

“That doesn’t sound better.”

“I understand—”

“No, you don’t.”

Skylar paused, pupils narrowing in concern. Her irises were almost golden that far inside. Singe didn’t like how much he focused on her eyes.

“I have lived my life being viewed as an abomination,” he explained as calmly as he could manage, “A corruption of mage and dragon-kind, by all except a few people. I don’t need someone from the farthest region of Phoenix from my home to assume what that does and does not make me feel. I understand you’re trying to help Bobbi, but I know for a fact she doesn’t want me involved.”

Skylar still focused on the dent on the table. Singe almost walked away, but he was stuck keeping an eye on her. First he said too little to Bobbi, and now he lectured Skylar. He wasn’t a very good bodyguard.

“I was born with magek,” Skylar said.

“That’s not possible.”

“It is when you’re—” Skylar swallowed, “It’s rare, but it happens. My mother is not a fire mage, and didn’t have any resistance. My birth was so traumatic, physically and mentally, that I’ve barely seen her my entire life. Not to mention that’s why my parents got divorced.”

“I’m sorry,” Singe said.

“I grew up in the Forge, but I wasn’t born there. My dad—I’m closer to him than my mom, but still—he brought me there because he thought I could learn control there.”

Skylar lifted her hands making an image of Singe’s face in the air.

“And I did, but my grandfather was heavily involved in Sophron’s war, so the facts don’t blend into a trustworthy person—hell, he was involved in the battle that injured your father.”

That was why she ran away after hearing his name: guilt.

“I guess I’m trying to say I know what it’s like to feel like a monster, but my treatment was more justifiable, so it can’t really compare.”

Singe wished he could say he disagreed, but she’d made it clear everyone was scared of things she was capable of.

“I’m sorry for making assumptions,” she reapologized, “I don’t know your relationship with Bobbi beyond what you’ve told me. Is it okay if I ask what I wanted to, though?”

It was for Bobbi, and no matter what Bobbi felt about him, he owed her some effort.

“What is it?”

“Most dragon prosthetics are made with scales from the same dragon. Since you’re the closest draconic being to Bobbi, I was wondering if I could try using some of your scales. Nothing I’ve used has worked thus far.”

“Have you tried leaves?”

“Can’t stay in place.”

“Glass?”

“Shatters no matter how high I treat it.”

“Leather?”

“Same problem as leaves. We need something that can let her fly.”

“It probably won’t work.”

“I know.”

He took a deep breath. He was still mad at the imprinting accusation, but she did her best.

“I’ll check for any shedding.”

“Thank you.”

He was still standing, but he still had drink left. He sat down.

“I’m sorry about your grandfather,” he said, “I can’t imagine how many Phoenicians are going through the same thing.”

“Yeah,” Skylar still didn’t look at him, “I’m sorry about your dad. He shouldn’t have—”

“He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over it.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Sorry if I scared you,” he offered, he just wanted her to look him in the eyes again, “I don’t always know my own strength.”

“I disagree,” Skylar said, finally looking at him, “The table would be broken if you hadn’t been in control. Besides, I deserved to be scared a little.”

“Are you on a date?” Syren asked, causing Skylar to flinch.

“No time to talk,” Bobbi said, grabbing her hand, “Gotta warn Drake.”

Syren followed, while Singe and Skylar watched.

“Should we worry about the warning?” Skylar asked.

“If we need to worry about it, someone will tell us.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Warnings get spread around here.”

The house was finally spotless. Vlad had even acquired more vacuum bags so he could clear the floor of any debris, which took a lot of bags. The problem was it left Vlad with little to do.

“Vlad—”

He opened the door the moment he heard Bobbi’s voice.

“You should be more cautious,” Syren said from behind Bobbi, “Your court is here.”

“Now?” Vlad searched past them, but there weren’t any people around.

“Well, we didn’t ask for an exact report of his origins,” Bobbi said, coming in to take an empty seat, “But since your court was meant to make an appearance, and he said he had to meet someone who lived with Frank…”

He thought he could be prepared, but all the panic struck at once.

“It’s weird to see this place so clean,” Bobbi added.

“I had to occupy myself somehow.”

“What, scared I’ll burn you alive now that I can?” Bobbi asked.

“Somewhat,” he admitted, “I mostly just generally don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Because I can set you on fire now?”

“Because I care about you.”

Syren groaned loudly.

“Can’t you just blow up or something?” she asked, “If you both get quiet and awkward any time you see each other, you’re never going to make up.”

“I’m not quiet,” Bobbi corrected.

“We aren’t making up,” Vlad revealed.

“What?” Bobbi asked.

“I can’t take back my feelings, and you can’t feel safe around someone you know has feelings for you. We’re not making up.”

Bobbi looked away. She knew it was true too. He didn’t hold it against her. This was her nature.

“Okay,” Syren sounded offended, “We’ve warned you, and we sent the guy to Charmer’s. What’s the plan now?”

“Maybe you’re the one that needs an escort,” Bobbi suggested.

“No, they still think I’m staying here for you.”

Bobbi groaned, carefully taking a seat on the couch nearest her.

“I’ll tell them you came to your senses and ended things,” Vlad proposed, “Then I’ll leave in the morning while they sleep.”

“Aren’t they here because Bobbi made a power vacuum?” Syren asked.

“The brotherhood barely had a foothold, and they’re barely out of contempt with the other courts. That was always just an excuse.”

“He didn’t recognize Bobbi,” Syren noted, “Maybe you guys aren’t as high priority as you think.”

“Unless he tricked us and followed us here,” Bobbi noted.

They watched the door. Vlad listened for any potential intruders clacking on the dust-free floors.

They breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened.

They all turned for a fight when Frank opened the door.

“You finished cleaning,” he said.

“We may have company soon,” Vlad revealed, “Unless Charmer’s greeting goes well.”

Singe entered his Uncle’s house carefully, holding Skylar’s hand as he helped her through the door.

“Are you sure I’m allowed in your uncle’s house?” she asked, “If he finds out about my grandfather—”

“We don’t need to stay long. I just need to check my room.”

“Should I go with you?”

“You can if you want.”

“And who’s this?” Uncle Burns asked, leaning against the door to his office.

“This is Skylar,” Singe said, “Charmer’s goddaughter.”

“Is that right?” Burns asked, walking down the stairs to offer his hand to Skylar, who awkwardly shook it, “Sebastien Tyrain, but this young man calls me Burns.”

“Skylar Forge,” she introduced.

“I knew a Forge for a little while, stayed with Charmer too. Must have been your father.”

“Probably,” Skylar confirmed.

“He probably didn’t mention me.”

Skylar shook her head.

“Not in the slightest.”

Skylar’s eyes hadn’t stopped bulging since Burns mentioned her father.

“Skylar’s a healer,” Singe said, “Offered to help with my scale problem if possible.”

“What scale problem?”

“One that involves checking my bedsheets.” He pulled Skylar to his room.

“Oh, it’s that kind of problem.”

Singe paused, staring back at him. He didn’t particularly mind the implication, but Skylar seemed mortified when he glanced back at her.

“Do you know Bobbi?” Skylar asked, helplessly.

“Oh,” Burns nodded, “I take it you are also aware of her recent medical issues.”

Skylar nodded.

Burns laughed.

“First, I promise my nephew would not impugn your reputation, my dear. He’s an honorable sort. Besides, you’re not his type.”

“She’s not?” Singe asked before he could stop himself.

“I stand corrected,” Burns briefly looked Skylar up and down. Singe instinctively put a hand in front of her, “Secondly, you do not have to beat around the bush when it comes to Bobbi’s secrets. I am aware of her… unique origins.”

Skylar breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your nephew’s scales are next on the list of prosthetic materials.”

“And what do you get in exchange for these prosthetic efforts?” Burns asked.

Skylar shrugged.

“Success, hopefully? Get her back… off her feet?”

“You don’t care about the achievement of being the first Forge to build a fey prosthetic?”

“Well I’ve built about seventeen and they’ve all failed, so the excitement has worn off.”

Burns laughed.

“I hope you stick around Skylar. I won’t pry if you spend longer than necessary in my nephew’s bedroom.”

Singe took Skylar’s hand again, opening his bedroom door.

“Sorry about that,” he offered, “I panicked about Bobbi’s privacy.”

Skylar nodded.

“It’s fine. Everything was cleared up. Was that true?”

“Which part?”

“The part where I’m not your type. Do you bring enough people around—”

“No,” Singe answered, probably a little too fast, “I don’t bring many people around, but he wasn’t wrong that you don’t fit the usual description of who I’m interested in, at least not obviously.”

“What’s the usual description?” She asked, grabbing his comforter, “Do you shed in your sleep at all?”

Singe shrugged, scouring through his mostly empty wastebasket to pull out a few mostly broken scales.

“I have a thing for the color red, usually in hair,” he admitted.

“Like Aunt Caty,” Skylar sussed.

“When I was a teenager, yeah, I had a bit of a crush on her, but I plead the demon defense, not that she ever reciprocated.”

“Who else?”

“I tried a date with Draconis, once, but there wasn’t a spark. I had coffee with Mandie from my gym, but her hair’s more orange, and she admitted to not being interested in a relationship. She’s my spotter when I use the punching bag though. I break them otherwise.”

“Draconis as in Queen Draconis?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t insider knowledge that he was close to the twins.

“Two different fire zmeus, but the first one ended things because she was uncomfortable when I looked like this, and the other didn’t like that I was close to the dragon queen,” he continued, “A cecaelia I met while visiting my mother in Mineria. It went very well until her ex moved closer and she dumped me.”

“That’s not a small list.”

“No,” Singe admitted, “I guess not. What about your past?”

“I keep to myself,” she admitted, “My family’s so complicated, I don’t feel like navigating a relationship on top of it, you know?”

Singe shrugged.

“I think you’d be worth dealing with your family situation. It’s not like mine isn’t complicated.” He gestured toward his uncle.

“A shadow mage isn’t that large of a complication, but I don’t have one in my family, so I could—”

“How did you know he was a shadow mage? He didn’t use any magek around you.”

His father was public knowledge, but his uncle was personal.

“My father spent some time in town,” Skylar mentioned, “He told me about it. Your uncle fit the description of the Shadow Mage he met.”

She said her father hadn’t mentioned Burns in the slightest. What was Skylar hiding?

The roses would bloom soon. Hecate watched her bushes with anticipation. The strawberries were starting to ripen too. She’d have to harvest them soon.

“Well,” she answered an imaginary question, “Most people plant them for their beauty, though this variety is usually used for tea. Apparently, the red ones are used in many romantic contexts.”

“Back home, they’re considered a sign of war,” the voice of someone she hadn’t sensed said. Hecate held up her garden shears in their direction.

“My apologies,” he said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it felt rude to eavesdrop.”

“Why are you here?”

The vampire put his hands up in the air.

“You’ve been harassed by the brotherhood, I assume.”

“Is this compensation?” Hecate asked. She was curious how vampires would compensate any victims. Perhaps Juliet could offer insight, not that the court she’d once been thrall to had a policy of kindness to their sustenance.

“Not exactly,” the vampire said, “I am from Court Dracula—”

“Like the novel?”

When discussing her task in greeting their guests, she’d decided to imply ignorance.

“We’re not quite as immoral as we’re implied to be in that tale. We mean no harm to you and yours, especially not toward a demon like yourself. Why does a demon make her home on earth?”

“This is not my home,” she said simply, “What is your ‘not as immoral as in the novel’ court’s purpose here?”

“A member of the brotherhood’s leadership was felled here, and they no longer have the ability to hold it, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try. Since we already have an errant court member here, we’re overtaking it before they make any more desperate moves.”

She disliked the vampiric resistance to psychic abilities. It made it all the more difficult to plan around them.

“So why reveal all this to me?”

“We were aware of your presence, and offer humble deference, but the truth is that I was told this was the way to Franklin Monstro’s home.”

“You have been misinformed,” Hecate revealed.

“Will you tell me where he lives?”

“No.”

“Lady Charmer—”

Hecate laughed.

“You must have been told I was nobility,” she dropped her shears, pulling out a dagger, “But you’ve been misled again.”

She attacked him quickly enough to pin him to a tree, holding the point of the dagger against his throat.

“My place among demons means nothing on Earth, so the fact you care is proof enough that you aren’t worth trusting.”

He tried to push her off, but she was larger and stronger. It was his fault for coming alone.

However, she didn’t need him aware of her full ability.

She stepped back.

“You will not find help from those who recognize what you are, and those who won’t recognize you cannot help you. Now leave my property. You were never welcome here in the first place.”

She returned to the house quickly. She needed privacy.

“Do you know the difference between Vlad the Impaler and Robert E. Lee, little one?” she asked no one.

“No,” she imagined them to reply, “What’s the difference?”

“The Impaler knew how to win a war,” Hecate revealed.

Bobbi watched the sky with a smile. Summer break would be over soon, and she’d probably be moved to a new home before then, but she wanted to enjoy a farmer’s sky while she still could.

“You said no?” Big Bobby asked, impressively climbing out the window despite his size.

“I—” she didn’t have a good reason for the Budgeys either, but she knew there was a reason.

“I guess you’re meant for bigger things, Little Bobbi,” he consoled.

“That’s not right.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

She kept her eyes on the sky, not wanting to look anyone in the eye.

“I don’t think I’m meant for anything,” she admitted, “That’s why I can’t stay.”

“You need to find yourself somewhere else?”

She felt the wings on her back twitch slightly. Hopefully Bobby would overlook it as a breeze.

“There’s nothing to find, because I don’t have a self.”

It sounded insane, but it sounded more right than being here for the rest of her life.

“Besides, who wants to be Bobbi Budgey forever?”

“I don’t know about forever,” Bobby admitted, “But I wouldn’t mind.”

“Robert Budgey doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No, it sounds pretty good actually.”

They stayed in companionable silence. This, right now, felt right, and that was exactly why she was itching to leave.

“We should go to bed if we want to get chores done in the morning.”

“Right there with you.”

Bobby went first.

“Promise to write when you finally go?”

Bobbi couldn’t say yes, even though she tried.

Never let them know.

It wasn’t like writing could reveal her secrets to him, but the voice didn’t relent.

“It’s fine,” Bobby said, “Don’t worry about it.”