#tea time.

The kettle whistled but it sounded to Wynne like a banshee screaming. Many things did. A creaking door, a howl of the wind, a beep of a phone. Their mind had become a tricky thing once more, memories leaking through as if they were a dripping faucet that never properly closed. Drip, drip, drip. Declan’s body. Elias’ blood. Regan passed out in the car. Drip, drip, drip. Jac dying at the altar. Padrig's guts ripped out. Their skirt getting caught in brambles as they ran.

They turned off the gas. The screaming stopped. They poured the hot water in two cups, moved over to Van and placed one in front of them. On the kitchen table stood a box with various bags of tea. Usually they’d try to make something fresh and herbal, but they didn’t have the energy, so dried tea it was.

Wynne sat with their legs pulled up, knees against the table. “I have … cookies somewhere. If you want.” They glanced at the table, wanted to lay their head on it and stare at the wall. They were so very tired. But Van was here and they had things to talk about. Big things. Rhiannon jumped on the table and they stroked his thick orange fur. “Yeah. You know.” They weren’t sure what they were saying. Nora wasn’t home, still. Everything was bad, still. “Sorry about the cat hairs.”

Van knew that Wynne had come home, but until she saw them, she wouldn’t feel satisfied with the statement. I’m home could mean a lot of things. It could mean what it meant to Nora who said she was coming home, but left soon after. Until Van saw Wynne, she wouldn’t feel settled, and even after she arrived at their front door, she still felt sick to her stomach over what had happened. 

Van had hugged Wynne, something she never did. She didn’t really like physical contact, not in the way most people meant it. But it was purposeful, the way she had wrapped her arms around them, and the way she had let herself be directed inside. 

She sat across from Wynne now, hands in her lap as they brought the water to a boil. It felt like she was being rattled inside, too. The lip of the pot bouncing as the water grew hotter and hotter. She felt like that most days. But the sound stopped, and steam reached just beneath her chin as the mug was pushed forward. She looked at the array of tea bags, opting for mint. 

“I ate like, a ton before coming.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but not necessarily the truth. “Maybe we can uh, do cookies later or something.” Van looked up to meet Wynne’s gaze, thoughts whirring in one place, the topic of demons, banshees, Nora, and Declan all creating something vicious out of what wasn’t typically peaceful, but calmer. “No, I like them. I mean, I don’t like, go out of my way to get covered in cat hairs, but…” She cleared her throat. “You can sleep, you know. We can um– I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Okay was such a fucked up word, wasn’t it? “I thought that maybe…” She shrugged, “I was worried.” 

The air was thick. Not with the oncoming summer or the threat of rain or pollen, but with unspoken things. There was a conversation to be had at this table, on this day, over these mugs of tea — there were veils to lift and things to confess. Wynne’s was tight with the anticipation of it, the knowledge that Van and them would grow closer through honesty but that they’d have to bare themself, too.

It might have been easier to do this over text, but it was better not to. They knew that. They were tired, anyway, of conveying ugly truths through messages on a screen. It was just hard to put these things to words. To know when they could stop talking about tea and cat hairs and food. When the conversation shifted. They hoped it’d just happen, that they wouldn’t have to awkwardly maneuvre the chit-chat into a Conversation.

They plucked a bag of tea from the container without looking, dropping it in. Their appetite hadn’t returned yet, even if they had. Besides, they only bought tea they liked anyway. “Oh, yeah, sounds good.” A few weeks ago they would have had freshly baked cookies. It has been hard to cook, though. They didn't like holding the knife. 

“And no, it's okay, I need to try and sleep in the night, you know? Jet lag, or something. I don't get it but it's annoying.” They stared at their mug as Van worried, watching steam rise and curl. They wanted to be like that. “I’m here. That's what I care about most. That that's over. And that I'm also not … in my old home any more. I guess we should talk. Right? How do you… do that?” They pressed a hand against their forehead. “I mean I know how to talk. Obviously. Just… it's hard.”

“I’ve only ever been like, one timezone back, so I don’t think I ever got jet lag from that.” Exhaustion after travel looked different on everyone, and she knew that there were a lot more things than just air time plaguing Wynne. Van looked down at her tea as the color from the sachet bloomed through the water– something not quite true green bled through. It felt like she was looking at her insides. 

She looked up at Wynne as they began to speak, eyebrows furrowing slightly in response to the non-questions that came through to meet in the middle. “Do… what? Talk? I just sorta open my mouth.” A harsh laugh left Van as she tried to push the unease away. She shook her head a moment later, pressing her index finger against the hot mug. It burned, but it was a reminder that she was here across from Wynne and that she couldn’t get lost to the whirring inside of her mind. She retracted her finger after a few seconds, drawing her hands back into her lap. 

“You mean like, the demon thing, right?” She shrugged, “I don’t… actually know. It happens when I think I’m going to die.” She wasn’t sure if that was totally true given she didn’t think the situation with Diana called for a demon, but it was getting harder to parse through exactly what had happened these days. “But the rest of it, um– the melting, the other stuff… I break glass when I get nervous or upset, too. It’s magic.” The word fell off her tongue like it’d always been there. She had finally garnered a taste for it, and it was a strange thing to behold. “Somebody who– they also do magic, I think? Uh, they called me a summoner. I’ve been looking into it, but…” She twiddled her thumbs beneath the table, nails scraping along the edge of the wooden fixture. “It’s still kind of new? Not really new, but the um, acknowledging thing, I mean.” 

They still struggled to even grasp the fact that they had gone and come back from Ireland, that a plane had taken them to a place in a so-called different timezone. Never mind all that had happened in that place. It was strange, to be struck by disbelief while also constantly remembering the things that had happened vividly. Wynne shrugged. “Fair enough. It’s not great. People complain about it like a lot at the airport.”

Van was laughing and they were too, but it wasn’t the way they usually laughed together. There was something morose about it, which was how they felt about things most of the time these days. As if a thick, dark cloak had been laid over everything. “Oh,” they said. “Me too. That’s how I do it too.” It was funny. But it also wasn’t. But it really was. When Wynne laughed again it was a little more sincere. 

Van was magic. They’d suspected something like it, considering what had happened to the vampire. But the fact that it had to do with demons made Wynne feel uneasy — they knew there were nice (or at least … kind of nice) demons out there, but they had a feeling those were in the minority. “I … am … it’s good, that you’re acknowledging it more. I can try to help to look into it. Maybe the library can help.” Maybe it was in the restricted section, though. “So the thing … that claw that took the vampire, was that a demon?” They bit their lip. It would be very ironic if it was a demon who had saved them both from the vampire — but then a demon had helped them before. “Do you think planes are held up with magic like yours?” They frowned at their mug. “Um, not important. I just don’t get how they work without magic, so I think it is magic.” They pulled up one leg, placing their foot on the chair. “Demons … are dangerous.”

“I think that’s like, normal, right?” Van relaxed slightly, no longer feeling as though she might dissolve on the spot. There was a lot to be worried about these days, but she didn’t want to project that onto Wynne. They already had enough to deal with. “To talk with your mouth. I mean, I guess you could talk with other things, but…” She shrugged. Now wasn’t the time to get stuck on the logistics of how to talk in other ways. 

She tried to not let Wynne’s expression deter her from continuing on with her explanation. “I’m a little worried that looking into it will like, make people look into me, you know?” If there were hunters for things like werewolves and undead, then who was to say there wasn’t a hunter for what she was, either? Maybe it was self-involved to think that, but she couldn’t be too sure. This world was still new to her. “But, um…” Did Wynne know that Teddy also possessed magic? She didn’t want to out them, so she didn’t bring them up by name. “I have some other help, and I think… I would like yours, too, if you’re offering it.” It might be nice to have somebody normal on the sidelines. 

At Wynne’s question, Van faltered slightly. “I… didn’t know that’s what it was when it happened– that time or like, the others.” There had been others, and there was no shying away from that fact. “I’m not really sure… I don’t know a lot about this.” She wiggled her fingers above the table, looking down at them. They looked so normal, but each time magic swept over her, she could feel the electricity buzzing in the pads of her fingers, extending all the way down her wrists like some sort of alternate vein. 

Iron pooled at the tip of Van’s tongue as Wynne stated the obvious. “I know– I definitely know that. I’m not– I don’t…” With a sigh, Van pushed some hair out of her eyes. “I’m learning about it. The magic part, not the demon part– I don’t know– I think that I need to learn about that part, too, if I want to be able to control stuff. But I guess– summoners– me, I–” Another deep breath, another finger pressed to the now cooling mug, “it’s not just demons… we can summon other things.” She hadn’t read a ton into it, being too preoccupied with everyone in Ireland and their fates, but now that everyone was back (except for Nora), maybe she could find the time again. 

“I think so, yes. I saw a video of someone who talked without moving their mouth, though? But I assume the noise still came from their mouth.” Wynne frowned. It was really not the most important thing, and yet their mind kept coming back to it. It was baked air, like the things people had said on the stage of the trial. They didn’t mind it this time, though. “Or like, sign language.”

They nodded when Van asked if they understood. They did, in a way. There were always people looking out to hurt others, after all. It made sense maybe people would look into Van with bad intentions, too. “Of course. It’s good to be cautious. I think it always is. But I would be glad to help. And I’m glad you have help.” The world was so vast and to face it alone was impossible, though Wynne had tried in those first months after running from the commune. “I don’t know a lot about magic but I can look for answers.” Maybe that restricted section of the library should be broken into after all.

They felt a pang in their stomach as Van struggled to speak and hoped it wasn’t because of them. Wynne was silent as she tried to find the words, sipping their tea patiently and looking at her carefully. They tried to imagine what it was like, to begin to realize there was something within your power that you didn’t quite understand yet. They already struggled with all their own realizations — like that maybe they had grown up in a cult and that it was okay, really, that they were still alive. “It must be hard. To try and figure all this out. But um, you’re like not alone.”

They put down their mug. “I don’t … I don’t know a lot about magic, but I know some things about demons. Like that there are different types. And some are nice, but most of them are tricksters. And they can look like humans or like something else.” Wynne swallowed. “And some of them want human sacrifices. But there are rituals to get rid of them and other things. I can also learn more about it if you want, I have a source.” They didn’t want to name Teddy, but they were just around the corner. So was Gabagool, who was a bit more obviously a demon expert. “And other things? Like … if you got better, you could summon us freshly baked cookies?”

“Oh, true. Yeah.” Van pushed herself to think outside the box– to not be so embroiled with what she’d always been faced with. It was hard, acknowledging the things outside of her bubble, but it had to happen if she was going to face any growth. Wynne’s ways of looking at things was only further proof of that. It was a simple thing; a discussion about discussion, but it held more worth than just that alone. 

Wynne seemed to understand her in a way that few did. They offered their help, but didn’t demand she take it. That felt… nice. Wynne was just Wynne, and for them to extend their hand, it meant a great deal to her. Van nodded, “I’d… really like that, Wynne. Thank you.” That almost felt too formal for her. “Like, I would really like that. I think it’d help a lot, to know I’m not doing it alone.” She hadn’t been– she had people in her corner, but with Wynne, it felt different. Maybe because they had a lot more to lose, so it made Van feel that much more protective. 

The only demons that Van had been faced with so far were the kinds that saved her life. Were they good? Would they have killed her, too, if given the chance? She thought back to the feathery hand, and how if she plucked each delicate white strand away, what would be left? Somebody like her who had lost something? Or would it be something more sinister? “So it’s like people, like– all different kinds. That makes sense, too.” They wouldn’t all be bad– nothing could be all bad, because if that were true, then what Jade had done would have been right, and Van didn’t think what Jade had done, or did in her past, was right at all. But there were bad things, too, and Wynne affirmed that. It was a difficult thing to swallow– that maybe the portals she created that took down those going against her weren’t the only bad things. That the creatures she unknowingly asked for help were a part of it, too. 

“It’s just… a lot. All of it.” Whether she meant the demons and her magic or the whole Ireland trip, she wasn’t sure. Van took a deep breath and looked down at the tea that was reflecting back at her. “I would like, so much rather summon cookies or something.” Hopefully they’d be regular cookies. “Or like, maybe if Nora runs away again, I can just summon her right back.” It was a joke she had exchanged with Emilio, but the idea of it felt less like a joke and more or less hopeful. 

“But seriously, Wynne. I don’t– I won’t ever hurt you with it. I hope you know that.” Not intentionally, at least. She hoped by the time Wynne came face to face with her magic again, she’d have it under better control. Van offered them a weak smile. “It… this is all like, so messed up.” All of it. They should’ve been able to exist as regular twenty-somethings, not in complete fear that any move they made could end up with them in a casket. “I just wanted you to know that, though. The power stuff. It felt wrong um, not talking about it.” 

Maybe that was the most important thing there was in the world. To not be alone when going through these kind of realizations, to have people to look along with you. Wynne wished they could be more to Van than an extra pair of eyes, that they could offer her a kind of guidance and wisdom that she certainly deserved — but when it came to magic they were wholly ignorant. But they’d try, and at the very least they would be there with tea and other things.

“Of course, Van. You know, you helped me so much. Help me still. With all the things I don’t know, which are a lot of things,” they smiled a little. “And I get that this is different, but it also isn’t. Friends help each other.”  And this was easily accepted by now. Van was their friend and would continue to be their friend, even in the face of demons and former communes (cults?), even in the face of explosive magic.

They nodded. “Just like humans. Or people. All different kinds,” they echoed the sentiment, because it was the sentiment they were trying to build their life on. Wynne wasn’t struggling to develop a philosophy outside of the one they had abandoned, but this was a core part of it. Everyone had the ability to be good, just as everyone had the ability to be bad — and though some people had more powers to do bad with their bad intentions, it was still about intent. If a bad person had Van’s powers, it would be horrible. But Van was good. “But … I think they’re still, when they’re bad … they are very dangerous.”

Van was right. It was a lot, all of it. But it had been a lot since they had ran from home, the entire world an overwhelming cacophony of sound and bright lights. Though there was pain and fear, though, that lotness also came with these things. Van. Jokes. Tea. They clung to their cup. “Maybe you can practice that. And summoning Nora, but maybe you can use me for practice so she doesn’t have to know.”

Wynne frowned at Van before nodding their head again, meaning every bop of their head. “Of course. Of course, I know. I — you saved us, last time. And I am glad we’re talking about it. That we can talk more about my home, too. That it’s all … open and discussable and that it’s okay to discuss it. Because I trust you, okay? To hear my things, but also to not hurt me.”

“Yeah! Like, one day you’re going to totally wreck me at Mario Kart. Maybe not right now, but one day.” It felt nice to joke, to laugh with Wynne across from her. The days of staring down at her phone screen, of waiting for response after response; of finding out whether or not the people she cared about were okay weren’t necessarily behind her, but for the time being it was. At least, in Wynne and Regan’s case. Van so desperately wanted to find Nora, to show her the love that those in Wicked’s Rest had for her, to show her that even if home didn’t feel like home, it could mimic the feeling until it felt real. That was what it always felt like; Van never felt at home, but with Wynne across from her, she felt like she was getting closer. Van wanted both Nora and Wynne to feel that way, and she hoped that one day they would. “Friends definitely help each other, yeah.” Always, no matter what. 

Wynne held warnings in the palm of their hand, spilling them onto the table. They traced them out– a warning, a promise, the acknowledgment that while other things might be dangerous, Wynne didn’t think she was dangerous. Van wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Most of her life, she’d been treated as a fragile thing, and so she learned how to crack at will, to fall apart as that was what most expected from her. Wynne treated her with the respect she’d been looking for, much like Erin and Nora. “I understand, and I trust you.” Because Van had no reason not to. Because Wynne spoke of these things with an understanding that rivaled the ability to actually dredge up shadows and souls alike. 

Van snorted at the thought of practicing with Wynne. “Maybe when Teddy gets back we can try.” She didn’t think she’d actually use Wynne for any kind of summoning practice, but the offer sat heavy on her shoulders, or rather, the trust did. 

As Wynne went on to speak, Van sat in a silence that enveloped her, not in fear or turmoil, but in hope and understanding. “What happened? Was it the– your home, right? Something happened… before you got here.” Van bit the inside of her cheek as she watched her friend, searching for something– for the moment she should reach across the table, even if she wasn’t very good at physical affection. She wanted to learn more about her friend, not just because Wynne had insisted, but because this level of trust meant something, and Van wanted to show that she was reliable. 

They chuckled. “I totally will. The power of the toadstool will help me and I will finally get first place,” said Wynne, knowing that this was a very distant reality. They didn’t mind losing against Van so much, though, so it didn’t matter. They had skills that she didn’t have and through that they could help one another. It was very nice, actually. “Maybe we can play some games in a bit, if you want. Teddy got me a console –” They said the word with a bit of uncertainty, not sure if it was the right term. “– but I don’t really get it yet. It’s nice to watch Netflix with though.”

They gave their trust too easily, they knew that now, but the thing that existed between Van and them was different than that kind of trust. This was something that went deeper than believing things at face-value and expecting the best from people — this was the kind of trust that came with friendship, with knowing they could rely on Van. For fun, but for support and safety too. A kind of trust that Van wouldn’t exploit them or hurt them. “And I trust you.” 

A large sip was taken from their cup, the tea not as hot as it had once been but still warming up their insides as it traveled down. They wanted to fill their mouth and throat and stomach with tea so they wouldn’t have to repeat what had happened — but they owed Van the truth. And it wasn’t like they hesitated because they thought she’d look at them different, after all. That fear of condemnation seemed to have left them, at the very least.

“My commune — well, maybe … maybe it was a cult, actually. But we revered a demon. It gave us boons and stuff. And we … well, had to sacrifice one person every so often, and it was supposed to be me, but I didn’t want to die, so —” They swallowed, even if their mouth was dry. “I ran away. And then they —” Again, their mouth was dry. Wynne looked at their hands around their mug. “Had to find a replacement, so it was my brother. And then … Emilio, he found out for me, and then … we went there. To get rid of the demon. And Dr Kavanagh helped, too. And –” They shrugged. “I guess it’s over now. But it doesn’t feel like it. I am still there sometimes. And I still — you know, think about what ifs. And being in Ireland was so … they were so weird there, but also similar to home. It’s … yeah. But I know about demons because of it. That’s what happened.”

Van’s eyes lit up at the promise of video games after the discussions of how deeply traumatized they both were had ended. Van liked having these kinds of conversations because it meant she was growing, but she was a girl who liked to game at heart, and at Wynne’s suggestion, she nodded. “No, for sure, we can definitely play! I can show you how to like, actually use it and stuff. For things other than Netflix.” She smiled at Wynne, wondering if she could get their phone later to install a few different games on. It was easy to get lost in the ways that their communion could revel in comfort, but she knew it was important to understand the ways in which they needed to be there for one another through the dark stuff, too. It was, at the very least, easier to acknowledge than before. 

There was the temptation, after seeing the look in Wynne’s eyes, to tell them that they could discuss it later. But wouldn’t it hurt later, too? Wouldn’t there be that same look in their eye, the subtle shake of their fingers as they clasped it around their mug? Van knew that now was the time to listen, not to insist that they could revisit it another time. This was important, and Van had shared her truth no matter the fear that came with it, and Wynne wanted to do the same. Van owed it to them to listen instead of make excuses. 

As Wynne went on to tell their story, Van could feel their mouth widening, forming a perfect and round ‘o’. That wasn’t something she had expected, but it made sense, with Wynne knowing a lot about demons. Or, at least, way more than she did. Van reached across the table finally, closing a hand over one of Wynne’s that was still wrapped around their mug. It felt like the right thing to do, and she wanted to do the right thing by them. “You feel guilty, right? About surviving? Both times?” Van could understand that, too. She felt guilty about Diana, about Debbie– hell, even about the banshees that had taken her home from her. How she had gotten to live in the bubble of safety, of what Jade didn’t categorize as dangerous– how others simply existing with what they were had been condemned. Wynne had been condemned, but they had crawled out of it– had escaped the fact of death, despite the odds. “I’m like, really glad you didn’t die.” She thought that much was obvious. “Before, and in Ireland. Both times. You deserve to live, you know.” This wasn’t about her, but she felt like she was talking to herself, too. 

Van squeezed Wynne’s hand, running through the number of things people much wiser than her had said to her in the hopes of bringing her back from the brink. But it didn’t seem like Wynne was on any ledge. This was a conversation filled with hope and trust, and Van needed to treat it as such, instead of imposing her own versions of grief and understanding onto them. “I’m sorry about your brother.” Van’s lower lip trembled slightly as she spoke, “and I’m sorry that it feels like you’re still there.” Van knew how that felt. She was still in that parking lot, standing across from Diana. She was still in the grocery store with Debbie. She was standing across from the banshee that had taken the last thing of her family from her. But she was in front of Wynne, and Wynne was in front of her. They were here, together. “But you’re here. We both um… we both are. We’re both here, and like, it’s super– this is so dumb, but we’re stronger than our demons. Literally.” A hiccup left Van and she reached up to touch her face with her free hand, realizing that tears had begun streaming down her cheeks. 

Wynne’s story made Van want to learn how to control her magic instead of run away from it. It shouldn’t have been the defining factor for her, considering the tragedies that had already occurred, but she wanted to make sure that Wynne would never have to face something like that again, not if she could help it. “Thank you. Um…” She blinked away the tears, “for telling me.” 

“I’d really love that,” they said, smiling brightly. Van was so clever when it came to technology, but also someone that Wynne liked to learn from. And playing games they did like — even if the ones they were used to were more card or board based. Video games were fun to play by yourself, though, which was nice. They liked the idea of drowning out their thoughts by pushing buttons.

As the truth spilled from them, Van reacted with a kindness they might not have allowed a few months back. They no longer expected people to respond with anger, to condemn them for their betrayal and so they let their friend touch their hand. And even if Van were to tell them that they should have died, that they had been selfish and a traitor — they’d have the knowledge that plenty of others thought differently, themself included. But Van just took their hand and offered words of understanding.

They nodded tentatively, “Yes.” It was a heavy way to live, to feel like there should be something shameful about every breath and step taken. And yet that was the truth of it — they felt guilty for sitting here. “I’m trying … I’m trying not to. I am also glad I lived. Even if I feel guilty, too.” There would never be any undoing of it — no possible way to bring back Iwan or to turn the clock on what had happened in Ireland. Their past was a trail littered with mistake but it was a trail that kept going, winding through forest and field and past beaches. It kept going. 

There was another dip of their head, their eyes glued to the squeeze of Van’s hand around theirs. Wynne took the sympathy in stride, not feeling discomforted as it came from the other. “Me too.” They looked at Van and at the tears on her face and felt something loosen in their throat, a tightness they hadn’t realized was there until now. They, too, cried. “It’s … no, it’s true. It’s not dumb at all. We are stronger than them.” The demon had died. Wynne still lived. That trail kept going. 

“Of course. And – thank you for listening.” They turned their hand around so palm met palm and held onto Van’s, not wanting to let go just yet even if they didn’t know what to say any more.

Van had felt alone for so much of her life, that the feeling of having Wynne across from her still felt slightly foreign. It felt like that time by the mines with Nora, signs melting down to nothing as Nora exposed herself as an entirely different being altogether. She was learning things about those she called friends, and in turn it made her feel less alone, less… desperate for understanding. 

They could take their time together, she thought. Her hand remained overtop of Wynne’s as she looked at them, vision only slightly blurred from the tears that ran down. It was a special thing, being able to fall into step with somebody else’s trauma, even if the ones that she’d experienced had been so far removed from anything that Wynne had. She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched them, “I’m glad you told me. Really, really glad, Wynne.” There was nothing but sincerity in her voice as she squeezed their hand.