Chapter Text
Mother Miranda had many rules when it came to the domain she oversaw. She forbade the Four Lords from fighting directly, for example. They could bicker and quarrel and on rare occasions these arguments came to blows (almost always between Heisenberg and Alcina), but battles with intent to kill were prohibited.
Another rule was that all outsiders be brought to her, or that Miranda be informed of their arrival so that she could go to them.
Which is how Miranda found herself standing in front of a well dressed older man who looked utterly haggard, having had to drive, and then walk, and then run (on account of some Lycans) to get close to her village. It was Donna who had called Miranda with the report, shockingly. Or, rather, Donna holding the phone while Angie prattled on about some stranger wearing a backpack who was wandering around near her home. And so Miranda had set out, her ravens surrounding the intruder before she appeared before him, wings spread and arms crossed as she gave him an appraising look.
"You're bold, brazenly walking in here like you have any right to trespass. What could have possibly been worth the trip?" She said coldly. And then, much to her surprise, the man looked relieved.
"Am I to presume you are Lady Miranda?"
Generally her default reaction to people seeking her out specifically was 'horrific acts of violence' and potentially followed up with 'interrogation and/or unethical experimentation'. Something about this man, however, gave her pause.
"In the flesh." She nodded, and he fished around his suit jacket for something.
"I regret to inform you of the passing of Earl Oswell Spencer." He said solemnly, some genuine sadness in his tone as he offered a letter. "I am his former butler, Patrick."
Miranda was stunned into silence, taking the envelope and opening it with a sharp nail before she skimmed the multiple pages of legal documents contained within.
"…you have to be kidding me."
When she looked up from her reading Patrick was removing his backpack, which Miranda realized immediately was actually a hiking carrier for a child. A young girl, maybe two at most, blinked and looked around at the change of scenery. He held her out to Miranda, who stared for a while before carefully taking her.
He bowed, and then waited to be dismissed. Miranda was half tempted to just kill him, to rip his throat out and leave him to bleed.
Then again, he had remained loyal to Spencer right until the end.
She could respect loyalty.
"Leave. Leave, and never return to these lands." She snapped, and he turned away without another word. Departing back to his car, and then back down the mountain to god only knew where.
The child yawned, then tried to yank at the feathers of the closest wing she could reach.
For the first time in a very long time, Miranda was unsure of what to do next.
"So he just… handed you child?" Alcina was reading over the will, seated in her chair within the crumbling church the lords would use for their private meetings. Miranda had summoned her specifically, and Alcina was starting to piece together why. "Is… Is it even legal to just will people children in America?"
"How am I supposed to know that?" Miranda snapped, holding the toddler in her lap and trying not to lose her patience when the child gripped at the lacework of her intricate outfit. "If he thought he could just ship me some replacement for my daughter, he is sorely mistaken. I should just toss her in the river. Or, better yet, see if she'll make a decent vessel."
Alcina flipped through the barely legible pages of the will, then paused when a small note folded between two of them slipped free and fell into her lap. She picked it up, then offered it to Miranda without reading it. Miranda took it with a frown, shooting the child a dirty look when she also tried to grab at it.
Dear Miranda
By the time you read this, I'll already be gone. I do apologize that I never found the time to visit. I don't even know if you got my last letter, as you never sent a reply. I know it may sound silly, but even after all these years I still held you in high regard. If this child were ever to have a godmother, it would have certainly been you.
Her name is Grace, and she is my blind hope at finding some peace. I am certain that by now you must have reunited with your Eva, and I selfishly ask you raise her alongside your own daughter. There is nothing left for her here but a legacy she does not deserve the weight of.
Forever your life-long student,
Oswell E. Spencer
Alcina watched as Miranda made a face like she had just bitten a lemon.
"Well? Anything enlightening?" She asked after a moment, and Miranda tucked the note away in her robes.
"Perhaps… she was not meant to be a replacement, then. Apparently she is called Grace." Miranda lifted the child carefully, scrutinizing her for a short while as Grace wiggled and patted at Miranda's arms. Finally she let out a defeated sigh. "You should talk me out of keeping this… thing."
"Perhaps keeping her will do you some good. A bit of company around the lab?" The smile was audible in Alcina's voice, and Miranda gave her a withering stare. That was in fact the opposite of talking her out of this.
"You are awfully smug for somebody whose daughters were fully grown when you took them in. Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise a child?"
"I do not, Mother Miranda." Alcina inclined her head, tone softening. "But you do."
Miranda considered that silently, then set Grace on the ground. To her surprise the child pulled herself up to her feet, wobbling a bit before carefully stepping over to Alcina and grabbing at her dress. She babbled a bit before losing her balance, sitting down hard and looking distraught at this sudden development. Grace looked between the two women, the realization that she was surrounded by strangers finally setting in, and then she started to cry.
"…The river is still a tempting solution." Miranda muttered, but despite her words she picked Grace up, folding her wings around her like a feathered blanket. "Well. I suppose I need to find a spot to put her. Maybe I can shove a crib into the cell in my lab."
"I would be honoured to provide assistance, if you require it." Alcina rose from her seat and bowed. Miranda tried to ignore how damn amused Lady Dimitrescu looked, the damn traitor.
"I doubt that will be necessary." Miranda snapped, but then she paused. "…I will call you, however, if you are required."
"I will look forward to it, then."
Grace was an utter terror in the lab. There were multiple occasions during which Miranda would be working on dissecting some failed experiment or unfortunate villager, and suddenly see a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye.
"What do you have there, Grace?" She called, and a shrill giggle was her only answer. Immediate red flag.
Miranda turned, seeing the child rushing about with a scalpel.
"No."
She reached and lifted Grace by the back of the shirt, taking away the knife and frowning at her as she set her on the bloodstained operating table. It had been a few years since Grace's arrival, and while Miranda couldn't deny she found the presence of the girl in her life a bit nostalgic, it was still a painful reminder of what she could have had. What she should have had.
Still, Grace was usually quiet. Oddly so, even. She could speak, and she did sometimes, but Miranda got the impression that she preferred not to. That perfectly suited her, at least, the few times she would ask incessant questions about what Miranda was doing would be mildly endearing but majorly distracting as she tried to work.
"No knives until you're older." Miranda said firmly, and Grace stared at her before looking at the corpse on the table.
Was Miranda's lab a safe or sane place to raise a child? Hell no. Even Miranda was not blind to that. But she was not sure she trusted her lords with a child, and leaving her locked up in a room felt… sad. And so Grace was growing up among the specimens and cadavers that Miranda worked with, sometimes playing with Miranda's equipment as well as the dolls Lady Beneviento had eagerly made for her when she'd heard the news of Grace's arrival.
"W-want t'help." Grace mumbled. Miranda had been trying to work on her stutter but with very little luck so far. Still, it was an charming thought… a very tiny, very inept lab assistant. Miranda looked around a moment, eventually picking up a flashlight and turning it on before she pressed it into Grace's hands.
"Point this here, at the chest cavity." Miranda didn't particularly need the extra light to see what she was doing, but it didn't hurt. Grace took to her new task eagerly, and Miranda got back to work, mumbling to herself occasionally about compatibility and fungal growth. Maybe she could turn this into a learning experience. "See this, Grace? This is the trachea. It's necessary for breathing."
Grace listened intently, the flashlight swaying a bit in her hands as she tried to hold it steady.
"It's collapsed, here. That's how this man died." Miranda tapped some of the damaged cartilage with her scalpel. "Suffocated. Which, honestly, could be worse. See here? This is a little bit of the Megamycete."
"M-me… mega… megaceet."
"Close enough." Miranda muttered. "Anyway. This is what caused the damage. I implanted a bit in the chest cavity but it didn't really assimilate in the way I'd hoped. It started spreading rapidly and damaged a lot in a short time. A shame, I was curious to see if it would try to dig it's way back out or not, but the host didn't last long."
"Cadou?"
Miranda blinked, wondering when Grace had picked up that word. She had definitely said it plenty of times, but she hadn't been aware Grace was paying attention. Observant little thing, putting together that usually these corpses were the result of one of those. "No, the Cadou is different. You'll see someday."
Grace didn't answer on account of turning the flashlight around to look at it and immediately blinding herself, nearly falling off the table before Miranda caught her and set her safely down on the ground.
"Go play with your dolls, Grace. We have a meeting later."
Grace perked up a bit at that. She rather liked meetings with the lords.
And the lords certainly liked her.
Miranda had been initially annoyed at how much of a distraction Grace proved to be during gatherings of the Four Lords, but over time things had settled. She was not expecting most of the lords to be so willing to humour her, especially not Heisenberg of all people.
All of them were gathered as Miranda swept into the room, taking her seat and giving a dismissive wave as everybody stood in respect. And then Grace slipped out from behind her, bee-lining it for Donna and Angie.
"Oh god, not again-" Was all Angie got out before Grace grabbed her and started dragging her away. "Donna. Donna, you can't let her kidnap me. Donna. Donna-"
Lady Beneviento offered an innocent shrug, then folded her hands in her lap.
Grace sat down near Miranda's chair, content to make Angie's arms wave up and down while the doll stared at Donna, utterly betrayed. This was a common occurrence, and Lady Beneviento was relatively certain Angie was just kicking up a fuss for the sake of appearances, as she always ended up holding still to let Grace pose her however she pleased.
The meeting proceeded as normal, Grace eventually having to relinquish Angie so that Donna was able to participate, instead grabbing at Miranda's robes until she was lifted to sit back in her lap. The one benefit of having Grace present was that it greatly reduced the amount of arguments, as whenever voices started to raise she'd start to whimper or cry, and the lords would quickly adjust themselves and continue with lowered, if not strained, tones.
This one, luckily, passed without much incident or drama. Honestly, it probably could have just been a phone call.
"You should really let her visit us some time, Miranda." Alcina smiled and rose to her feet as the meeting adjourned.
"I feel your daughters would not be a good influence on her." Miranda raised an eyebrow, and Alcina let out a low chuckle. She couldn't deny that.
"I'd say she should visit me instead, but we all know that's not happening." Heisenberg approached Miranda's seat, crouching down a bit to look at Grace. "Here, for the little lady."
He held out a small metal bird with a wind up key sticking out of its back, which Grace took in both her hands and immediately hugged. Heisenberg straightened back up, offering Alcina a smug look, then he tipped his hat to Miranda and departed.
"…resorting to bribery." Alcina grumbled. "I see he's realized his personality won't win him any favour."
"Yes, yes, you hate him and he has no redeeming qualities. I've heard it all before, Alcina." Miranda rose, holding Grace against her hip with one arm. "I do appreciate you lending those books from your library, though. Her reading is coming along quite quickly."
Grace reached out to Alcina with a little grabbing motion, and Lady Dimitrescu offered out a gloved hand. Grace took it, then offered a shy smile before pulling back and leaning against Miranda.
"Well, I should also be off then. A pleasure as always, Mother Miranda. And you as well, little one."
Grace waved as Alcina left, then gently grabbed at one of Miranda's wings until it moved to wrap around her.
"Yes, yes, we're leaving now." Miranda sighed, turning and starting the walk back to her lab. "Demanding little creature, aren't you?"
The child didn't answer, just closed her eyes and held onto her little metal bird with a content expression.
Miranda was seated in her lab, head lowered as she inspected a tissue sample from Lady Dimitrescu under a microscope. That impossibly fast regeneration of hers was something Miranda very much wanted to see if she could ever replicate, but so far that was looking unlikely. Mutations from the Cadou were nearly impossible to predict, save of course for the common outcome of turning into a Lycan.
A shame.
"Mother?"
Miranda was still getting used to being called that again by a child and not just Moreau (which she tolerated but did not overly enjoy), and after taking a moment to collect herself she turned around, startled to see Grace was bleeding. She was around ten by this point, still soft spoken to a fault and terribly shy, but it wasn't like she exactly had any friends her age around here. Miranda refused to let her mingle with the riffraff in the village, preferring she stay safely by her side where she could prevent any danger or distress. Or, at least, attempt to.
"What did you do, îngeraș?" She gestured Grace closer, looking at the cut on the side of her hand. It looked quite thin… almost certainly from a scalpel or another similar tool. "Were you playing with my surgery kit again? I told you-"
Grace sniffled a bit and Miranda sighed, rising to get her first aid kit as Grace trailed after her.
"I-I was trying t-to find… a pen." Grace wiped at her eyes with her clean hand. "Dug around th-the drawer and something c-cut me."
Miranda paused, grimacing slightly. She did, perhaps, have a bad habit of leaving medical equipment in places it shouldn't be, especially if it was something she meant to throw out but hadn't gotten around to yet. Childproofing her various labs, especially the one just sitting inside a very poorly lit cave, was... perhaps something she kept putting off. She'd have to rectify that.
"Apologies, îngeraș. I should have let you explain yourself first." She picked up Grace and set her on the stone table so she could inspect her hand. "Does it hurt?"
Grace nodded, tears still in her eyes.
"Wh-why… have I never seen you hurt?" Grace asked as Miranda started to carefully clean the cut. Her hands stilled a moment, and she tried to choose her words. "E-even when… the L-Lycan swiped at you."
Ah, that. One of the newly changed ones had behaved a little erratically, clawing at Miranda and accomplishing nothing but annoying her. Grace had been nearby, but she didn't really think much of it at the time. But of course she would have noticed, her daughter was observant to a fault.
Miranda didn't know what to say.
"Is… i-is it just me?" Grace looked at her hand, then back at Miranda.
"Well, no. Not… precisely. You're human, and humans can get injured." She said slowly.
"…and you?"
"I am not human, no." Miranda sighed. "None of the lords are either, îngeraș."
"So… i-it is just me." Grace said quietly.
Miranda carefully dressed the cut, silent for long enough that Grace ended up speaking again herself.
"I-is it ok? I'm human?"
"Oh, of course. And don't worry, if I have my way it'll be temporary. Once you're older, of course, you're still quite young. Just about as old as-"
As old as Eva was, when she died.
Miranda suddenly pulled back, inhaling sharply. Grace looked up at her, startled by the sudden movement, still holding her hand out from when Miranda had been tending to the wound. She was not particularly proud of how often these thoughts crossed her mind. How she would catch herself treating Grace like her dead daughter rather than as her own person. It was not fair. Not to Eva, not to Grace, not even to Miranda.
God she hated Spencer, sometimes.
"So… do other p-people… do this? Regularly?"
Grace was fourteen when Miranda started actually assigning her some work around the lab. She was helping her now, gloved hands holding a jar containing a Cadou as Miranda worked through an implanting surgery.
"Do what? Speak up, îngeraș." Miranda motioned for her to undo the lid of the jar, which Grace fumbled with before managing to pry it free.
"Um… A-are we normal, mother?"
Miranda raised an eyebrow, fishing out the Cadou and motioning with one hand for Grace to set down the jar and get the light, which she dutifully picked up and directed at the opening Miranda had made in the skull. "What a silly question. How does one even define normal."
"Well, u-um… i-in the books I've been reading I… I don't s-see a lot of… this." Grace vaguely gestured to the body on the table. "Well. Um. F-Frankenstein excluded."
"Oh, you want to know if we are living a typical human life? Well, I'm not human, Grace. So no, this is not 'normal'. But it is how things are, and how we live." Miranda shrugged, carefully placing the Cadou into the subject's skull and waiting until it started to fuse before she withdrew, motioning for Grace to do the same. "But we have been blessed by the Black God. To live on even if killed, to have powers beyond the wildest imagination of lesser folk."
"Lesser f-folk being… the humans?"
Miranda nodded absently, watching as the Cadou started to react rather negatively, the 'patient' on the table immediately beginning to convulse.
"B-but… I'm human."
"What was that, Grace? It's a bit loud." Miranda called over the horrible wet choking noise that had started.
"A-aren't I human?" Grace said a little louder, and Miranda frowned a bit. Right. She had a bad habit of forgetting that sometimes, despite the frequent reminders whenever Grace got injured or needed to sleep.
"Well, yes. But we'll deal with that little hangup when you're older."
Grace nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on the man who had started to bleed from the eyes and ears, flailing against the restraints on the table and letting out a choked scream. Miranda had said that many times before, but hearing it again now…
"… w-with a Cadou?"
"Of course." Miranda had gone to fetch her notebook, jotting down the details of this particular failure.
"And a-are you sure I… I-I won't…" Grace trailed off. Miranda glanced up, following the girl's gaze to the individual on the table that appeared to be in the process of turning into a Lycan.
"We will run tests beforehand, try to determine compatibility. I… would prefer not to lose you."
Miranda almost sounded reluctant to admit it, and Grace nodded. Her mother was… strange, when it came to affection in any form, but Grace knew she cared in her own morbid way. It was just unfortunate how sometimes that care meant keeping Grace secluded, stuck learning about the outside world via books and notes and sometimes listening to meetings. She wasn't even permitted to visit the homes of the other lords yet, Miranda preferring her to stay in the lab or at her side.
It wasn't like she didn't know why she was so protective, by this point. The first time Miranda had accidentally slipped up and called her Eva had been a bad day for the both of them. Grace so confused when Miranda suddenly recoiled back as if the hand on Grace's shoulder burned her, looking at her with a mixture of pain and resentment. She'd apologized later, explaining the death of her first child, and Grace had tried to be understanding. That didn't ease the sting, though.
The feeling that even if Miranda denied it vehemently, and still worked tirelessly to find a way to bring Eva back, Grace felt she was something of a stand in until that point.
Or worse, something to be traded if it meant getting her real daughter back.
"What has you looking so glum, îngeraș? If it was the human comment I assure you that you are far better than the others." Miranda put a hand on her shoulder, and Grace looked up, offering a weak smile.
She cared, even if it was complicated. Even if that care left her terribly lonely, with just her books and her old dolls for company. She didn't know how Lady Beneviento could live like this.
"I just… s-sometimes feel a bit… different?" Grace offered finally, and Miranda seemed to be considering this.
"Well, categorically you are different." She pointed out, and Grace wilted slightly. "But. All the lords and myself are very distinct from one another. So… find some comfort in knowing being different is very normal here. And therefore, does not make you different."
Nailed it. Flawless thinking. God, she was such a good parent.
Grace seemed to be trying to follow the chain of logic, eventually concluding that Miranda had no idea what to say and was just throwing ideas at the wall to see what stuck.
She was sometimes a bit of an awkward woman. Even as a terrifying priestess and the ruler of these lands, she sometimes just… didn't know how to handle a young girl. Especially now that Grace was past the age Eva was when she had died.
And so Grace made herself smile a bit brighter, and gave Miranda a hug. Her mother ruffled her hair, though she was also keeping half an eye on the screaming almost-Lycan, just in case anything notable happened.
It was hard, truly, to be a working single mother.
By nineteen, Miranda finally started letting Grace out and about more. She was still relatively hesitant about Grace visiting Alcina's castle, constantly saying her daughters were half feral, but sometimes Grace would meet Lady Dimitrescu in the castle courtyard to talk. Those were some of her favourite outings, although Miranda had nearly gone on the warpath when Alcina bringing Grace some wine to try had led to the realization that the girl was a complete lightweight.
Alcina had carried her home, weathering Miranda's lecturing with a bowed head and a barely contained smirk while Grace wobbled over to her mother and flopped against her.
"C-can I sit with you?" She finally interrupted Miranda's ranting, and Miranda paused to look down at Grace. "We n-never just… sit anymore."
Miranda gave Alcina a look, then sighed. Perhaps… she didn't need to murder one of her lords. Yet.
"Of course, îngeraș. Alcina was just on her way out."
Not needing to be told twice, Alcina curtseyed and departed with a wave, and most of Grace's day from that point until dinnertime involved her leaning on her mother, blanketed by her wings as she read a book and Miranda updated some of her notes. It made her almost feel like a normal teenager, with a normal mother who chastised her for drinking and didn't regularly kill people without batting an eye. A normal… many winged… cult leader mother.
Those also weren't in any of the books she'd read.
Visits to Heisenberg often ended with Grace in a welding mask watching him work on something or other, and despite his best efforts she was starting to get the impression he maybe wasn't actually as keen on Miranda as he acted in her presence. Still, he was perfectly amiable to her, showing her how gear differentials could change rotation speed in machinery, how to work with engines, and (much to Miranda's displeasure), how to fire a gun.
She'd come back that night with engine oil on her hands and a sore wrist from the pistol's recoil, and Heisenberg had gotten a phone call soon after, his laughter audible even from where Grace was trying to scrub her hands clean.
The real treasure was the little handheld console he slipped her one day, something he'd found on a corpse and hadn't seen the need to break down for parts. It was a simple game, just keeping a small ball aloft and trying to break through some bricks at the top, but Grace often played it long into the night, much to Miranda's displeasure. Still, it made Grace happy and kept her occupied, so her mother allowed it.
Visits to Salvatore usually involved the two of them just sitting and fishing. Neither of them seemed to be entirely sure what to make of the other, with Salvatore clearly a bit resentful of Grace's closeness to Miranda, but unable to deny that she was far more polite to him than any of the other lords. Thus when he heard she was being allowed to go out more he first taught her to swim, and then eventually how to fish.
Grace was a terrible swimmer, barely able to keep treading water, and on more than one occasion he had to pull her back up onto the docks, unable to help but laugh as she sputtered and whined about getting water in her mouth. Fishing she had been somewhat better at, mostly because it just involved sitting around and hoping a fish would bite. There wasn't much in those waters big enough to give Grace trouble reeling it in, even with how weak her arms were, and if she had trouble Salvatore would mumble something about being the better fisher and help her get it to shore.
She didn't visit him as often, though, getting the sense that he much preferred life before Grace's adoption, even if he never said it aloud.
It only made her feel like more of an outsider.
Visits to Donna's house varied greatly depending on Lady Beneviento's mood. Sometimes Grace would just sit and talk with Angie and never once see the lady of the house, or sometimes the three of them would share some tea (not that Angie ever seemed to drink hers). Grace's favourite times were when Donna would guide her to her study and turn on the film projector, playing whatever old movies she had lying around gathering dust. She'd usually knit or do some lace making during those times, content to just be around Grace while she was occupied.
And sometimes Grace would visit and Donna would just be sitting by the gravestone near the house, leaning against it and staring off into space, her veil making her expression unreadable. She was never talkative during those times, nor would she even communicate via Angie. But the first time Grace had picked some flowers along the way to place at the headstone Donna had stared at her for a time, and then motioned for Grace to sit with her. They'd remain there until it was time for Grace to leave, the younger woman leaning against Donna and pretending not to notice the way Lady Beneviento's shoulders would sometimes shake with silent tears.
But often things were calm, and Grace found that she enjoyed visiting Lady Beneviento just as much as Lady Dimitrescu. Donna enjoyed making her clothing, always having Angie insist Grace try them on before leaving again. She also would sometimes use her hallucinations to show Grace things she otherwise might never have seen. Animals too timid to ever get close to a human, or the view of the village as if seen from the perspective of a bird. She even showed Grace how to make small repairs on her clothes, though Angie made her swear to still visit even if she got better at sewing.
And whenever Grace was away on these visits Miranda would sit alone in her lab, working with some of the many blood samples she had collected from the girl as she tried to determine if she would survive receiving a Cadou.
The results were frustratingly inconclusive.
Spencer must have done something to Grace, something to explain why she never got sick, and to explain why the mold just… didn't react how it should have. But blood and tissue samples could only get her so far. Sooner or later she would have to make a decision.
Grace was twenty-two the first time she saw Miranda directly murder somebody.
She had been walking home from Lady Beneviento's house, having to take a bit of a winding path that usually brought her near the village. Most of the villagers were very respectful towards her, knowing she was the ward of Mother Miranda, but apparently there were some exceptions.
"Hey, you're the priestess' kid, right?" A young man called from where he was working in the field, then he hopped the fence to wander over. He seemed a similar age to Grace, maybe a bit older, his dark hair half hidden under a cap. "You don't seem all that… holy."
Grace blinked, unsure what that was supposed to mean. She didn't exactly wear vestments like her mother did, but she still knew the prayers to the Black God and certainly knew more about the Fungal Root than whoever this was.
"I-I… I w-would disagree." She mumbled, hands clenching at her side before she slowly exhaled the breath. "I… a-am perfectly devout."
"I meant that I thought you'd be more… regal. Like Mother Miranda. She's a prophet and people say she can perform miracles." He looked her up and down and Grace grit her teeth slightly. "You seem way more human, though."
With how Grace was dressed, she couldn't disagree. A dark shirt that Donna had carefully embroidered with Miranda's four-winged crest, plain pants as she knew she'd be walking a bit of a distance that day, the same leather boots she always wore. She looked perfectly average, and something about that made her feel strangely self conscious of herself.
"I a-am sorry I am not l-living up to your expectations." She said curtly, then she turned and continued on her way down the road towards home.
She was not thrilled when she realized he was keeping pace alongside her.
"How come you talk like that?"
Grace ignored him, scowling a bit. A raven flew to perch on a nearby scarecrow, tilting its head as it watched the two silently.
"Oh, come on. Did I upset you? I didn't mean to, we just don't know anything about you here."
"D-do you people need to?" Grace paused to look at him. "W-we are n-not the same."
There was a haughtiness to her voice that she didn't mean to let slip, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, now you sound a bit more like Mother Miranda."
She flinched slightly, wringing her fingers together as she slowed to a stop.
"What… wh-what do you want f-from me?" Grace asked stiffly. "I-I am just trying to get home. I see no reason you h-had to leave your work to follow me. If you a-are hoping for a sermon my mother would be better suited for such."
"Then I'll walk you back. I'm just trying to get to know you, seems a waste you're almost never seen outside without a chaperone. You don't look half bad, you know."
That was the last thing he said before a splash of his blood hit Grace's face.
She staggered back when he started to tip forwards, blackened claws jutting through his torso where his heart would be. And then they twisted and pulled back, tearing the organ out and crushing it. Grace let out a scream, but then the body was actually falling on her, and she stumbled under the weight before collapsing, pinned under the corpse as blood poured over her.
Miranda was standing over them, her clawed hand returning to normal as she dropped the bloody remains of his heart. She then gave the body a firm kick, sending it rolling off of Grace so she could offer her a hand up.
"Apologies, îngeraș. That was… messier than I intended. I will let Donna know you might need a new shirt." Miranda sounded utterly unbothered, not noticing the way Grace was staring at the blood on her clothes and the ground. "Grace?"
She didn't answer, feeling a wave of nausea. This was different than the corpses and subjects at the lab. She rarely saw them alive beforehand. Had never spoken to one.
It felt… different.
"Grace? Are you alright?"
The concern in Miranda's voice is what snapped her out of it, and after a moment she threw her arms around her mother.
"Were you frightened? See, this is why I didn't want you to-"
"I-is… is it th-that easy?"
Miranda paused. "Is what that easy?"
"K-killing a human."
Ah. Right. It had been a rather quick and brutal death… and Grace was not accustomed to those things. Not directly, at least. Not in a way that left her covered in blood and shell shocked from the sight.
"For me, yes. For others, no." Miranda said finally, putting an arm around Grace to start guiding her back home. Away from the body, so she could get cleaned up. "…apologies. Maybe I should have waited until you weren't looking."
Grace wasn't sure how she felt about that.
"W-was… was he a th-threat?"
"A threat? Oh, no, not at all. Even if he'd tried anything he would have died the moment he reached for you. But he was far too comfortable insulting you, and I will not tolerate strangers trying to follow you home. Nor should you."
"I... I see."
"Remember, Grace. You're different than them." Miranda leaned to press her forehead against Grace's for a moment, then continued to walk her home.
Grace glanced back over her shoulder at the discarded corpse, still lying on the side of the road.
If she was different than Miranda and the lords, and different than the humans of the village… then what did that leave?
Despite her mother's arm around her, she suddenly felt completely and utterly alone.
She didn't go out as much after that, still visiting the lords on occasion but avoiding the village as best she could, even if it made the walk far longer than it needed to be. And on the days Miranda suggested Grace should get some sun, she'd more often than not look outside and find Grace not far from the lab, reading a book or playing on the little handheld game that Heisenberg had given her.
Miranda was no fool, she knew that Grace had been impacted by either the words of the young man from the village, or by his death. She just didn't know which.
And some part of her didn't want to know the answer.
She didn't want to be the reason her daughter was upset.
So she simply never asked.
Grace was twenty-five when Miranda was finally willing to try a surgery to implant a Cadou.
She had been pushing things off, but for some reason Grace had seemed oddly interested in it as time went by. She would occasionally ask about what research Miranda was doing to determine if it was safe to try, offering to sit still for bloodwork or biopsies andreading through old research notes long into the night.
At first Miranda had been proud to see her daughter so interested in her work, that Grace understood the Cadou to be the blessing that it was. But then she stood back and watched closer, taking a moment to put aside her own biases. And it was then she noted the almost frantic way Grace was consuming every bit of information she could get. The dark circles forming under her eyes from lack of sleep. The borderline desperation in her voice when she offered to sit through more tests.
"Grace."
Her daughter snapped her head up, fluffy hair held back from her face with a clip that Miranda was pretty sure was meant to be used during surgeries.
"Y-yes, mother?"
"Sit." Miranda pointed to a chair near one of the work tables, and Grace set aside her book so she could move there and take a seat. Miranda eventually sat in her own chair, gesturing her hand towards some teacups she'd set out. "It's linden tea."
"O-oh, thank you. It's… been a while." Grace smiled softly, picking up the mug and letting the warmth seep into her hands. "Is everything alright?"
"You know…" Miranda trailed off. Why was this difficult? "I… have enjoyed my time with you."
The look of abject horror on Grace's face made her aware that she maybe had picked a poor choice of words. She'd definitely made it sound like she was going to throw her out, or worse.
"I… I-I'm glad? Is… is th-that time… ending?"
"No! No." Miranda said quickly, and Grace let out a slow exhale, her shoulders relaxing. "No. I just… Grace, I am aware you feel, perhaps, caught between two worlds."
Grace winced slightly, twisting her fingers together as she listened. Where was Miranda going with this? In all their years together it was rare for this topic to come up. Grace avoided it because she never had the words, and her mother seemed keen on ignoring Grace was human unless it she actively had to consider it. Finally Grace nodded, and Miranda sighed.
"I… would prefer not losing you. And you have seen firsthand the mortality rate of these procedures."
"Are… are you telling me n-not to…?" Grace frowned. "My… my whole life you have been s-saying that this is… I don't know, some necessary step. That my h-humanity was something to be cured. A fault, th-that you loved me despite."
Miranda winced slightly.
She… could not deny it, though.
"I am not telling you no. I am asking you to make the choice. Not me, not any of the lords, just... you." Miranda said firmly. Grace blinked, then finally remembered her tea and took a sip. It was sweet, and she wondered if it had come from the linden tree near Donna's house. Probably, Miranda got almost all her herbs and flowers from Lady Beneviento.
"And… and what if I-I'm a compatible vessel?"
A heavy silence fell over the lab, and Miranda looked away. If she were capable of true necromancy she would resurrect Spencer in a heartbeat just to murder him again for putting her in this position. To mistakenly assume she had succeeded in her goal, and in doing so put her in the position where she some day may be forced to choose between Eva and Grace.
"You… y-you don't need to lie. I know… I know what you'd pick."
"I assure you that you do not." Miranda snapped, tone more cold than she intended as Grace shrunk back in her chair. Then her voice softened ever so slightly. "You cannot know because I find myself unsure what I would do in that situation."
Grace stared at her, and then let out a breath she did not know she was holding.
"…Yes."
"Yes?" Miranda turned to look at her again, almost having forgotten the original topic.
"Y-yes. I… I'd like to try."
"And… you understand that it could kill you?" Miranda leaned over to remove the clip from Grace's hair, letting it fall loose, and carefully brushing the strands from her face.
"Well, yeah. I-I grew up watching it k-kill people. But…" Grace offered a small smile. "I dunno, if it kills me... save the second vessel you find for me."
Miranda stared at her very intently for a moment, as if trying to determine the depths of Grace's conviction. And then, finally, she nodded.
"As you wish, îngeraș."
Miranda asked her for three days to prepare, though Grace realized by the second day that it was not actual lab preparations Miranda was making. She was trying to make peace with the potential results.
She would sit with Grace in the evenings, the two of them working through their own reading materials until Grace started to nod off, comforted by the familiar feeling of feathers surrounding her.
And when she would awake Miranda would still be there, lost in thought with her fingers gently running through Grace's hair and her wings still acting as a blanket. Her expression was often perfectly neutral, almost vacant, until she realized Grace was awake and looking at her, at which point she would slip back into her usual calm expression. It was almost funny how close in age they were starting to look, one might start to assume they were sisters rather than mother and child.
When the day finally came, Miranda helped her onto the surgery table.
"Once I administer the anaesthesia you won't be awake for long, alright?" Miranda had, much to Grace's surprise when she awoke that morning, shed her usual 'priestess' look.
Instead a woman in a lab coat with dark hair was watching her with a solemn expression. Grace had seen this face, this form, a few times in photos. As far as she had put together, it was the closest thing to Miranda's original appearance that existed.
Grace was glad she had been allowed the chance to see it. It felt… familiar, almost. Like someone she might have seen in a picture, years and years ago.
Oswell had often stopped to stare at the portrait of the woman he kept in his home, his daughter held in his arms so she could peer at it as well.
"Am I the o-only one who actually gets painkillers?" Grace cracked a small smile, and Miranda rolled her eyes.
"One of the few. But keep being a smartass and we'll see if I change my mind."
Grace knew she wasn't serious, reaching out and making a little grabbing motion until Miranda took her hand.
"S-see you on the other side?"
The potential double meaning of the words were not lost on Miranda.
"Of course, îngeraș. I will see to it."
And so she got to work.
Miranda had agonized over where to put the Cadou. The success of Alcina's daughters made the head a tempting option, but she was not sure she would get the same success again.
She also, selfishly, really didn't want Grace to get consumed and replicated by a bunch of flies. It felt… beneath her.
Somewhere in the castle, Alcina got offended for no particular reason.
Eventually she had settled on the thymus. A small organ a bit below the throat that was a crucial part of the body's immune system. After all, whatever Spencer had done to her had made her utterly immune to viruses. It seemed fitting… and sometimes things like that mattered a great deal for these procedures.
The only problem was that there were a lot of crucial organs adjacent to the thymus, such as the lungs and the heart. And so she worked more cautiously than she ever had before, this no longer being some stranger she could replace given time, but somebody she had reluctantly grown to fear losing. Her tests had been extensive, and the more she tried the more she realized that whatever Spencer had done to Grace before his death, whatever medication or treatment he had administered, she was immune to just about every known virus. Protected, Miranda assumed, from Spencer's own work ever being used to try and harm her.
But the Cadou, and the mold that created it, sought to fully integrate with its host. To assimilate, or in some cases even remake. While not incompatible, this meant that Miranda would have to be very, very careful, lest Grace's immune system react poorly to the parasite, or the parasite react poorly to her immune system. And so, when she had put Grace under, she had not made any promises as to how long she would be out.
She would be gradual about the introduction. After all, Miranda had no need to sleep, or to eat.
And so she was content to stay at that table for as long as it took, one way or another.
Subject Name: Grace
Cadou Affinity: Favourable, yet dormant?
Brain Functions: Normal
Subject required a very slow introduction of the Cadou due to an extremely potent immune system. Thus far appears to have retained a human physiology, with no signs of mutation.
While both the Cadou and host seem stable and integrated, the usual development of notable physical changes or newly awakened abnormalities remain absent.
Miranda tapped her pen against her notebook, sitting on a stool by the operating table. Grace was still unconscious and connected to a number of IVs, but at least she was sewn back up and seemed to be as comfortable as could be expected after a very intensive surgery.
One last entry was needed on the page, though. It was the same one that every report had, the one that mattered more than any other bit of information on the page. She had been deciding how to answer it for close to an hour before she scribbled the words.
An unfit vessel for Eva.
Grace awoke to the rare sight of Miranda napping.
Or, napping wasn't the exact right term. She did not need sleep, but sometimes she would close her eyes and relax, resting a time before resuming her normal routine. They were in her bedroom, one of the many rooms in Miranda's lab that used to be for specimen storage before she'd renovated it to add a bed and writing desk, as well as an armchair and small bookshelf. Grace blinking a bit in the dim light as she tried to move, quickly finding her body was utterly unwilling to cooperate in that regard. Instead a pained whine slipped out involuntarily, and Miranda's head snapped up.
She was back to her usual blonde form, wings and all, though she hadn't bothered with the mask at this point. She rarely did when she was in her lab.
"You're awake." Miranda rose, crossing the room from the armchair in the corner to stand by the bed. "How do you feel, îngeraș?"
Grace tried to speak, wincing a bit at how dry her throat felt. Miranda noted this and departed briefly, returning with a cup of water. She helped Grace slowly drink from it, hoping to avoid any spilling and getting water directly onto her stitches. After she had a chance to drink, she tried again.
"I-I… I feel…"
Miranda leaned forward, listening with rapt attention.
"Ow."
Well. At least her personality had remained the same. Miranda rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed, regarding her daughter with a calm expression.
"You have been out for quite some time, we will have to be careful when you eat next. We'll start you on simple foods and move on from there… assuming you can still derive nourishment from normal food. Donna can, but Alcina cannot."
Grace just sort of blinked at her, and Miranda remembered that she was still on a whole medley of painkillers at the moment. She'd understood about two words from that whole explanation, and both of them had been the names.
"…we will get you some soup later." She tried again, and Grace gave a very shaky thumbs up. She liked soup. And then, much to Miranda's amusement, she just rolled onto her side as best she could and went right back to bed.
Well, that opened up Miranda's afternoon a bit, at least. And so she went to her phone, hesitating for a while before she called Alcina.
"Lady Dimitrescu speaking." She greeted, voice steeped in politeness as she waited to hear who was contacting her. Miranda imagined that the rare times Heisenberg or Moreau called she lost that tone very quickly.
"It's me."
"Oh, Mother Miranda. What a pleasant surprise, it's been some time since-"
"Grace received a Cadou." Miranda interrupted, and the line went so quiet either woman could hear a pin drop. She herself decided to break it. "She is resting, but alive."
Alcina exhaled audibly, taking a moment before she spoke. "Well, that's excellent news, then. Is she well? Anything… notably different?"
"No, looking at her I think we may have another Donna on our hands."
"…You made her depression and anxiety worse?" Alcina sounded very confused.
"What? No. I meant she appears to still be very human looking- wait, she doesn't have depression." Miranda scowled, taking a seat a she spoke.
"…Are you quite sure?"
"I think I would know if my daughter-"
Miranda paused. Actually, perhaps she might need to put a pin in that for later. It would actually explain a few things.
"Alright, hypothetical depression aside, I… don't know what to do with her right now."
"Do you need to do anything? You said she's resting. Or are you already looking to the future?" Alcina rolled her eyes at Miranda apparently somehow missing the way Grace would sometimes just hide away in her room and refuse to leave bed, among many other signs.
"The future. I need to determine where she will fit. What she can, and might even enjoy, doing."
"My advice? Don't think about that right now. Celebrate, Miranda, I know you had concerns about this. A bit of revelry might do you both some good. And I would be more that happy to play host." Alcina offered, trying not to sound too eager.
"…I am not sure I trust your daughters around her." Miranda's frown was audible over the phone.
"Oh, come on now. She's an adult, and if you intend to keep her away from my home forever because you fear Daniela might flirt, I'd be heartbroken."
"Flirting is low on my list of concerns. But it is still on there."
"I'll have them on their best behavior." Alcina insisted, and Miranda sighed.
"Fine. I'll let you know when she's able to move comfortably again."
After Miranda hung up the phone she rose and returned to Graces room, pulling out her research notes so she could continue to work while her daughter slept.
Perhaps some socializing would do the girl some good.