Through Sara getting up and getting ready for class, and even through Christian stopping in to check on her before going to pick up his paycheque and run a few errands, Alexandra feigned drowsiness with an edge of grumpiness, keeping her breathing slow and her muscles loose. Both went along with it, and then they left her alone.

Alone with spinning chaotic thoughts and confusing feelings, anyway.

Eric would be off to class too, and she could ignore Seth if he was still in the house.

In stretchy black jeans and a cropped black T-shirt bearing a copper-coloured reflection of Christian’s pentagram-cross necklace, she went looking. She avoided the kitchen when she sensed Seth’s presence there, but finally tracked her target to the living room. The foot-long snake would have been easy to miss, sunning himself on the sill of one of the south-facing windows, but Sid was stalking him.

Alexandra seized the snake in one hand and raised him to shoulder level. “Sorry, Sid, you’ll have to find different prey to hunt. I need to have a talk with this one. Maybe you can have him back later.”

Sid eyed the dangling snake, who had the sense not to wriggle and excite the cat, then prowled off. He had abundant ways to entertain himself, and right now, Alexandra was focused on something much larger.

“My room,” she told Vadin. “We need to talk. No humans, no interruptions. I’m quite sure you have answers to some questions and I really need to know what they are.”

Since he didn’t try to escape, she decided to take that as consent, and took him with her back up to her bedroom. She tossed him on the bed before closing the door and sitting in her chair.

Vadin, in his human form, crossed his legs with his back straight, and regarded her calmly. “What questions are those, exactly?”

“There has been another lamia in this city for several days, despite my territory markings. I finally tracked her down last night and killed her, but discovered that she had been keeping a much younger lamia as a kind of pet. I let that one go and told her that if she stays on the fringes of the city I’ll leave her alone. That is not normal for a lamia and I have no idea why I did that! Bargains stopped mattering a long time ago, I care far too much about Chris to ever let any harm to come to him, which is bizarre enough for a lamia, but that now includes Eric and Sara and Val too, and that is absolutely insane. Lamias do not care even about other lamias, let alone humans. I fucking play Dungeons and Dragons with them and their friends every couple of weeks, and I’m actually sort of fond of Isaac and Dana, too, for god’s sake! Lamias don’t laugh but I went to a comedy movie just to keep Sara company and I ended up laughing and genuinely enjoying it. I have never heard of a lamia being able to feel anything that isn’t related immediately to hunting or fighting, maybe pleasure but definitely nothing like being happy. And I could keep going. It should have been practically murder to leave a lamia alone with Christian, who still has a massive blind spot and wouldn’t accept the possibility of a threat from anything his family had told him to trust even in the middle of being attacked, but you knew it wasn’t. Whatever it is, Jade knows it, maybe from one of the older kitsune in her clan, but maybe from you, for all I know. What do you know about lamias, or about me, or whatever the hell the right question is, that I don’t?” She felt her nails dig into her own palms, but didn’t care; at least the pain made sense.

“There’s an easy answer,” Vadin said. “Most lamias are literally incapable of emotions beyond, as you said, hunting and fighting. That is, I suppose, how evolution creates one of the most powerful and lethal apex predators ever and ensures that all liminals prefer to avoid confrontation. But evolution doesn’t stop. For a long time, there have been occasional lamias born that are different. Something in the brain chemistry, I suspect. They find it hard to see any point to fighting just for the sake of fighting, and can find themselves actually building stable emotional connections with others. Obviously, it’s a rare mutation, and I’m not sure how it’s going to be anything else, considering that empathy makes reproducing difficult when you know that it’s a death sentence, but I can’t see the future. I suspect that it’s at least as much of a strength as it is a potential vulnerability, although you’d be a better judge of that than I am, so I suppose we’ll see.”

“You’re saying I’m a mutant.”

Vadin shrugged. “Your history of wandering instead of claiming a territory suggested that you were one of the rare ones. Being restless like that, and being pragmatic enough to survive it, are strong indications. Most lamias are too inflexibly aggressive and run towards fights, even ones they can’t possibly win. As it is for many more mundane carnivores, the search for a territory is a hazardous phase, and that only makes the odds of survival lower. You didn’t die and you didn’t bother to fight for a territory that would just be a feeding ground the same as any other, even though evidence suggests that you would be likely to succeed. I was fairly certain about you. A conversation or two made me even more confident that I was right.”

“A lamia who could make herself endure being abused by a stronger lamia in order to keep from being killed outright...”

“The self-restraint necessary would suggest another mutant, yes.”

“And she might be less likely to turn on me in a few years when she’s older and stronger.”

“Even if she won, she’d pay dearly for it. If she was able to think through how to survive under what sound like appalling conditions and not lash out under stress, it seems probable that she’ll be able to weigh the advantages of conflict against the advantages of cooperation. I doubt the situation has ever come up before and the two of you will have to find a way to negotiate it.”

“Lamias negotiating anything is just madness, especially with each other. You were still taking a huge risk. I’m actually angry that you risked Chris’ safety even by inviting me in. You were fairly sure? As far as I can tell, you didn’t even give Chris’ family a fair description of lamias so they could make an informed decision, just left them to reassure Chris and make sure his guard was down.”

Vadin just smiled. “I consider the Terevans valuable. I’ve known Chris his whole life. You’ve known him for nearly two years. I doubt it took nearly that long to realize that it was going to take an extraordinary companion and protector if he was going to survive the situations he was guaranteed to charge into headlong to help others.”

“I... yeah, I really can’t argue with that one.” How often had Christian come up against threats that would have been problematic at best for most of the liminals that commonly befriended humans?

“Contacting you was not an impulsive decision. Nor was it entirely my own. I had... hm, accomplices, maybe? But they shall remain unnamed. A highly-creative independent witch with immense potential and who sees liminals as people, not pets or tools, is the kind of witch who is good for liminals and also for humans. The Fellowship is on a self-destructive path. Since we’re discussing evolution, in their current form they’re an aberrant mutation that will eventually fail to thrive no matter how ruthless that are about trying to infect others. It happens every time that kind of mindset appears.”

That wasn’t currently the subject uppermost on her priority list, but it did distract her. “It’s happened before? Wait, of course it has, considering human nature. I’m actually more surprised that witches like the Terevans exist.”

Vadin shook his head. “Without families like the Terevans and the Lyndells, there’d be no witches to speak of.”

“Okay, that needs some explanation.”

“Where do you think witches came from?”

“It runs in bloodlines. Presumably it turned up at some point and turned out to be enough of an advantage that it spread, despite non-witches sometimes having ideas that would make even a normal lamia think twice.”

“There are witches because there are liminals who befriend witches.”

“What?”

“The original witches were humans who were sensitive and observant—who noticed the liminals who were coming through to this plane, and who allowed themselves to see what’s actually there instead of rationalizing it away. Often children, since they haven’t learned that they shouldn’t see some things, but not always. They learned things from the liminals they made friends with. And then they tended to marry others with liminal friends, when they had that option, because it was preferable to marrying someone who could not or would not see those friends. Their children grew up exposed to liminals, and over many generations, the traits that made it easier to learn from liminals and from each other grew stronger, and having liminal friends became more and more a part of family culture.”

“Witches bred themselves into existence over god-knows-how many generations.”

“Essentially, yes. And they continue to learn from liminals who befriend them, and that expands their range of abilities.”

“But an organization like the Fellowship has basically become an incestuous closed circle. They teach each other what they know and try doing research on their own, but they have no hope of keeping up to someone like Chris, who is downright eager to absorb skills from vilas and kitsune and earth elementals and me and god-knows-what else.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait, does that mean that people who aren’t witchblood can learn things?”

“I don’t see why not, if they have anything like the set of traits the ancestral witches had. The trick would be finding a teacher. I doubt it could ever be anything particularly dramatic or that it would come as naturally, but it should be possible to some extent, depending on the individual and the teacher or teachers.”

“Right. Witchblood are high-level specialist characters, some like Eric are starting off lower and are putting more effort into multi-classing, and non-witches with the right traits are starting out at level one and oh my god what has Chris done to me that I’m using that analogy to frame it. Okay, that is going to make Chris and Val both deliriously happy. Back to lamias. You realize that ‘there are mutant lamias and you’re one of them’ isn’t exactly an answer as much as it is the can opener to a whole can of worms.”

“I’m not entirely sure what else I can tell you. A lot of it you’ll know better than I do, considering that I’m working from observations of my own and by several other non-lamia people, and you have your own experiences. All anyone else knows for sure is that a small percentage of lamias have the potential, depending on circumstances, to behave in a distinctly atypical way that is consistent with the capacity for empathy and emotional connection, at least selectively, and an enhanced ability to keep control and remain rational under stress instead of invariably resorting to blind indiscriminate violence. From where we sit, the existence of more flexible and adaptable behaviour is suggestive of that capacity in lamias who haven’t otherwise been in a situation that evokes it. Those of us who have discussed it are rather hoping that it becomes a more common variant, but we do understand that there are several serious complications.”

“Including other lamias,” Alexandra growled. “That bitch last night accused me of being a witch’s pet and claimed it made me weaker. That was why she figured she could just move into my city like I’m not even here.”

“That’s an unfortunate complication that hadn’t occured to me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can handle that. If it hadn’t been for her having a sidekick, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt nearly as badly, and that’s not likely to happen ever again.” She frowned. “As it is, I took her down by throwing a handful of dirt and glass in her face to distract her and give myself an opening. That’s not a normal lamia tactic. Not the first time for that. There was another lamia a year ago... she was young, I kept trying to get her to just leave so I wouldn’t have to kill her, and she took that as a sign that I couldn’t kill her.” She shrugged, shaking that off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I expected to become friends with other lamias, and I doubt any single lamia is likely to be more than a very short-term problem. I absolutely can’t stand the thought of any threat staying in proximity to my humans, lamia or otherwise.”

“I can’t give you explanations for your decisions. All I can tell you is that you aren’t the only lamia to behave in unusual ways. My part began and ended with arranging for you and Chris to both be in this house. I am sorry about that binding.”

“I’m not. I didn’t intend to break that bargain, but at least you gave Chris that much insurance.”

“If Chris had been in active danger, I’d have come back. But once the two of you reached your own agreement, it stopped being my business. It seems to have worked out extremely well for both of you, with some secondary benefits to the grandson of Ruth’s dearest friend, so I’m quite pleased about that. I saw no reason to believe that the last time we saw each other, you’d be receptive to explanations.”

“No. I wouldn’t have been. I had to see my own behaviour to believe it.” She sighed and rubbed her temples with the spread fingers of one hand. “I didn’t know what answer to expect. I don’t think this was it. I should point out that I do still have some very typical reactions. When I thought Eric was a threat, I came very close to killing him. My response to threats to Chris is still to kill them and enjoy it.”

“I did not say that increased emotional capacity meant no longer being a lamia. Liminals are what we are. Species is a much stronger determinant of personality and inclinations than any human factor. Other nagas value and protect very different treasures, but they’ll value and protect something. Kitsune will be social and sociable and will find restrictive or hidebound attitudes an irresistable target for mischief. Brownies are only happy when they have a house and an appreciative human resident to care for, even though they have a complex social life of their own around that.”

“They do? I never... no, nevermind, that’s another sidetrack. I’m not quite sure what to do with that information. Think about it and then ask Chris for his thoughts, I suppose, which is just more proof that I’m strange.”

“Evolving, perhaps, rather than strange.”

“Maybe.” She heaved another sigh. “Thank you, anyway.”

“I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable to hear.” He uncrossed his legs and moved to the edge of the bed to get up, all of it with a fluidity that might have told an alert observer that he retained some serpentine traits even when he looked human. “And thank you for the rescue from Sid. I’ve been hunted by Ruth’s cats before. They can’t really hurt me but I dislike upsetting them. Sid clearly matters to Chris a great deal.”

“Not only to Chris. I think I’d probably rip someone apart for threatening him, too. Not just for Chris’ sake.”

Vadin just smiled, inclined his head, and departed.

Leaving her alone again, with a different set of spinning chaotic thoughts and confused feelings.

When Sid stuck his head in the door and mrrrped at her, she called him over and scooped him up to cuddle him.

“I’m a mutant lamia,” she told him. “A freak of nature.”

He cared only that she was rubbing his throat.

She smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It probably doesn’t really matter. Whatever name you put on it, I’m still and always just me. If I’m not like other lamias... well, Chris isn’t like other local witches. So what difference does it really make? I’ll take you and Chris and Eric and Sara and Val over being what other lamias expect me to be, hands down. And I’ll keep all of you safe. Including from lamias who think that makes me weak instead of highly motivated and more creative.”

* * *

Eric and Christian drove Seth, with a small snake no one else could see tucked into his pocket, back to the airport.

“I wish...” Christian started, but let it trail off, not quite sure what he wished.

Seth hugged him tightly. “I know. Me too. Being on your own has been good for you, as a witch, and as a person, but growing up is always hard. You don’t really want me to move back home. Chicks don’t go back into eggs. But we’re always behind you, and eventually, we’ll get you over to Scotland for a visit.”

With a few more hugs, and maybe a stray tear or two, good-byes were said, and Seth left for his flight.

Christian turned away, and walked back to the car and Eric.

Eric was sitting on the hood, waiting patiently. “You okay?”

“I don't know. I guess. I miss them already, even worse than before, but part of me is glad they won't be right there all the time anymore.”

Eric smiled. “Remember what I said about the choice between having freedom and responsibility or having neither one?”

“Yeah. Well, it looks like I get the freedom-and-responsibility option, 'cause obviously I can't stand giving up either one even temporarily anymore. Let's go home.”

Eric nodded, and slid off the hood. “Don't forget that you aren't alone, eh?”

“I know.”

“Sara's just starting that particular struggle. You might want to tell her what you're feeling. It might help her figure out her own feelings about her parents.”

“Hadn't thought of that. Maybe I will. One question, though. You lived with your mom and dad, then with your mom and grandmother, then just your grandmother. How did you come up with all this stuff?”

Eric glanced sideways at him, as he started the car. “Who says you have to live alone, to work out exactly how much freedom you have and how much responsibility? I've had a lot of both since Mom moved in with Carly and it became just me and Gran and Jade, and Gran’s mobility issues became bad enough to really interfere.”

Christian thought about that, all the way home. It was an interesting idea, and it served to distract him from the confused tangle of relief and loneliness.