“So…” Ruth stared at the grave. “Where are we?”

  I swallowed.

  “My wife’s grave.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the name I’d carved into the large flat stone.

  Weeds choked it.

  My fingers twitched as I let go of Ruth’s hand.

  Her palm pressed firmly between my shoulder blades.

  Why did that ground me like hoard?

  It made no sense.

  “Do you want to clean it up?” she asked softly.

  I gave a jerky nod.

  We worked in silence.

  Inky stayed perched on my shoulder, unusually still.

  The quiet wasn’t awkward.

  It was… steady.

  We pulled weeds. Cleared fallen branches. Brushed dirt away from the carved letters.

  Ruth moved with efficient strength.

  I hadn’t been here as Daniel.

  Maybe once as John.

  Carl would come, look, and leave.

  “It’s weird to be here without my personality being… messed up,” I said finally.

  She glanced at me, one eyebrow arching.

  “I escaped a magic prison,” I added, hurling a rock into the trees. It crashed through brush. “Broke my mind into two parts. That’s how I survived.”

  “Magic’s nasty sometimes,” she said, wrenching a stubborn weed free. “Especially when it feeds on fear.”

  I sank to my knees in front of Kathy’s headstone.

  “She died in childbirth,” I said quietly. “I tried to get her to the road. To a hospital. I just… couldn’t get past the mental barrier.”

  “A mental barrier can be just as real as a physical one,” she said, settling beside me. “That’s why I avoid my family. I need my mental health.”

  “But I—”

  She laid a firm hand on my arm.

  “Did you do the best you could at the time?” she asked, meeting my eyes.

  I nodded. “But if I had just—”

  “You tried your hardest,” she said gently. “We can’t save everyone. My brother’s still under Dad’s thumb. He made his choice. I made mine.”

  I placed a hand on her knee and squeezed.

  “He’s hoard?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  I slipped an arm around her and drew her close.

  No words.

  Nothing either of us could say would make it better.

  I don’t know how long we sat there in silence, but eventually I had to get out of the now-stained white clothes.

  I stood and helped Ruth to her feet — even though I was fairly sure she didn’t need it.

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  “Come on,” I said. “I have another bolt-hole nearby.”

  “Bolt-hole?” She frowned.

  I was about to sound insane.

  Inky rubbed my cheek.

  Great.

  “I was paranoid about being found by shifters,” I admitted, taking her hand again to guide her. “So I built several emergency bunkers around the property.”

  “Prepper?” she smirked.

  “A magic dragon captured me,” I said flatly. I squeezed her hand, though I wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or myself. “I escaped and was terrified he’d find me.”

  “So… practical. Not paranoid.” She tilted her head.

  I stopped walking and looked at her.

  “Shouldn’t you think I’m crazy?”

  She let out a quiet laugh.

  “I lived in an old van I converted into a camper for years because I was afraid my dad would find me,” she said. “I’m the last person qualified to judge crazy.”

  Well.

  Okay then.

  I led her down one of my winding trails.

  It was hard to believe I’d once lived like this.

  Checking bunkers regularly.

  Watching for signs someone had found me.

  Patrolling.

  Hunting for meat.

  Gathering plants and other foragables.

  “You’re quiet,” she said.

  “I think I’m realizing how lonely I was,” I admitted as we stepped into the clearing that hid the underground bunker.

  “Survival does that,” she nodded while I knelt and pushed leaf litter away from the concealed hatch. “You isolate because you think it’s the only way to keep everyone safe.”

  I paused and looked up at her.

  “I did it to keep my son safe.”

  Her face softened. “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  She studied me. “So… born around 1980?”

  I stared at her.

  “1975. Why are you so calm about this? I look twenty-five.”

  “I was born in 1980 and look about the same,” she shrugged. “Dragons age a lot slower than humans.”

  I blinked.

  “But I did age…”

  Except Edwin had said he suppressed my dragon nature.

  Was the aging just… an illusion Attwater removed?

  “My dad did something to keep my uncle from realizing I was a dragon,” I said slowly. “I didn’t shift until this past week.”

  I lifted the hatch and started climbing down.

  “Those suppression spells usually come in two parts,” she said, following me. “Original species venom can help trigger the dragon.”

  “What breaks the other part?” I asked.

  “First deliberate use of magic,” she replied. “Then shifting afterward. It tells your system you’re ready.”

  I paused halfway down the ladder.

  Oh.

  Attwater hadn’t removed anything.

  I had.

  “Wonderful,” I muttered.

  “You look great for your age,” she giggled.

  I flipped her off as I reached the bottom and found the generator.

  “Same to you.”

  It had been a long time since someone teased me like that.

  It felt… unfamiliar.

  I turned on the generator and the lights flared to life.

  The reinforced tunnel was set up like my last bunker.

  Except this one had a second bed.

  For Jack.

  “Better than my van,” she said.

  “Carl… I mean—I was a paranoid bastard.” I rubbed at my chest unconsciously. Inky nuzzled me.

  “Sounds like he had a reason to be,” she shrugged, wandering farther inside and taking in the space.

  Why did I feel so exposed?

  Then a much larger problem occurred to me.

  I hadn’t cared if Jack saw me naked in the shower.

  Fuck.

  I was an idiot.

  Not that it was something I could’ve exactly planned for.

  Inky was silently laughing at me.

  Ruth noticed me freeze and sighed. “Where did your mind just go?”

  “Shower.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Never had to worry about… decency.”

  She glanced at the open layout of the bunker.

  “Got any tarps?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” I pointed toward a stacked pile against the wall. “That would work.”

  She smirked and went to grab one.

  ‘I like her,’ Chaos said cheerfully.

  Chaos was back.

  I sighed.

  Not Dragoon.

  Just my larger headache.

  I grumbled about life in general as I moved to help her secure the tarp along the sides.

  ‘So where did you find her and the adorable little shadow?’ Chaos asked, barely suppressing his amusement.

  ‘I don’t want to explain you yet,’ I muttered, wrestling with the tarp. Try talking to a cosmic entity while doing manual labor. ‘And leave Inky alone.’

  ‘Inky?’ Chaos repeated. ‘You named something?’

  I leaned my forehead against the shower wall and sighed.

  “Is the tarp giving you trouble?” Ruth asked as she effortlessly fixed her side.

  “I wish it was that,” I said — then froze.

  ‘Great job,’ Chaos chuckled.

  I hated my life.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re in timeout,” I hissed under my breath, then braced an arm against the wall and buried my face against it. “Remember the whole Guardian of Shadows thing?”

  “Kind of hard to forget with Inky right there,” she said dryly.

  “Might have a… different issue that just broke free of the drugs,” I groaned.

  “Which is?”

  I straightened reluctantly.

  “I am the deeply unhappy Vessel of Chaos,” I said. “And he’s awake. And chatty.”

  She blinked.

  “So… like my dragon’s voice, but—”

  “Cosmic entity. With too much personality,” I ground out.

  Silence.

  ‘I do resemble that statement,’ Chaos said mildly.

  Shoot me.

  A firm hand landed on my shoulder.

  I glanced at her cautiously.

  She was visibly suppressing laughter. “I’m not going to freak out over every weird thing about you.”

  “ADHD much?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “Guilty,” she grinned. “But fun.”

  I stared at her.

  ‘She is nothing like Kathy,’ I sent to Chaos.

  ‘Good,’ Chaos replied. ‘Just have fun and don’t overthink it.’

  I glanced around at the well-stocked bunker I’d prepped for any emergency—

  “Shit. I hope you don’t need feminine products anytime soon.”

  The words were out before I could stop them.

  Also… no coffee in this bunker.

  I groaned and buried my face in my arm.

  “Socialize much?” she laughed.

  “Only the past few days out of twenty-six years,” I sighed.

  Inky patted my cheek and slipped into the shadows.

  Guess that was enough emotional support for one day.

  Chaos: How many bunkers does Daniel have?

  Order: He had twenty-six years stuck on a property. People have hobbies.

  Chaos: Hobbies are chess and knitting. Not bunkers and stockpiling.

  Order: Do not visit prepper websites, then.

  Chaos: Has she?

  Order: No… but she did watch several gardening videos on self-sufficiency.

  Lady Emberflame: One of those guys had to be a prepper with some of the stuff he was saying.

  Chaos: Must she?

  Order sighs: Let her have her fun. It goes better for us.