Chapter 31: Orb and meet the parent 2 (Jason)

Sorry for the delayed chapter again guys, i have no excuse.

I also have an exam next week, so you gys will be getting half a chapter then and half the week after. Hopefully i can also drag in the lag that came with the last exam so you get both on wednesday.

(Pov Jason)

Jason's gaze was fixed on the horizon as the car drove toward the clan compound just outside Spokane.  It felt fantastic to finally get out of the hospital. He didn't know he could enjoy sitting in traffic, but apparently he could. The sounds and sights of people as they drove through Spokane were a welcome change from the smell of antiseptics and the beeping of hospital equipment.

Another billboard slowly moved past, a smiling woman holding a shopping bag as she walked down some street or another. “Donate blood today, support our front line troops. Payout doubled!” and in small text, “Now paying 300 dollars per donation.” 

He didn't know they legally could do that. His own experience, from the entire being shot thing, made him suspect that the injuries the hospitals would be getting flooded with from a war needed a lot of blood. 

“Hey, Jasmine?” He glanced over at his driving fiancée. Normally she wore her military uniform, or he guessed that what it was; he hadn't seen any uniforms from whatever military the Pacific Northwest did have. Today, though, she wore a floral sundress and a matching corset. Given how much of her shoulders and… cleavage he could see, he suspected it wasn't just decorative. She looked amazing, though she rarely didn't. So that was nothing new.

“Mhmm.” Jasmine hummed in acknowledgment, glancing into the mirror, locking eyes with him for a brief second.

“When did they legalize selling your blood?”

Chloe twisted in the passenger seat to see him better where he sat in the back seat. “It happened about two weeks after the war started. It's to help ensure the stockpiles are up in case casualties spike. Or that's what they said on the news, at least.” Chloe gave him a small smile. She too looked great today, though far more formal than Jasmine. He didn't mind the pencil-skirt-and-blouse look, though. 

“That, and to ensure that the clans have enough to eat. It would be counterproductive if we were still secretly skimming off blood banks during a war. And now that we are out and about, well, let's just say it's not secret and not exactly advertised.” Jasmine said lightly as they turned down a side road, into the forest.

Chloe's eyebrows creased as she looked over at Jasmine. “Wait, you guys are buying it. Isn't that, like, false advertising? People are donating to keep injured soldiers and civilians alive. I mean, the money helps, but that's not why most people are doing it.”

Chloe had a point, or at least Jason thought so. Though he could only imagine the headache that would come from some blood bank nurse suddenly noticing half their stockpile was missing. 

Jasmine's fingers tapped slowly against the steering wheel. “It does that in both cases. We need to drink human blood the way you need to eat. And it's noctian blood magic that our medics use to drastically reduce long-term battlefield injuries and casualties. We do most of the most dangerous fighting, and we need to feed. Also, it's in the really small print so we aren't lying to them. It would be a larger ethical nightmare if we fed on prisoners now, wouldn't it.”

Jason couldn't help the smile that split his face. They bickered like an old married couple. He had long had his doubts about the entire polygamy thing working out. Especially with how hostile Chloe had seemed towards Jasmine early on. However, this made those concerns feel smaller. They still hadn't properly discussed things, the three of them, but they would find time for that.

“What are you so happy about?” Jasmine's mirthful voice dragged his attention back to his girlfriend and fiancée. 

“Ehh… Nothing important.” He said, earning a gentle smile from Chloe, who glanced back at him now that their conversation had ended. “Hey, why am I in the back seat?”

“Because you are in no shape to drive.” Jasmine said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“It's to make sure neither of us gets any unfair time with you. If I were sitting in the back, I would get lots of time with you. If Jasmine were, she would. And since Jasmine doesn't yet trust me with her car, I can't exactly drive it. So we can't rotate. Therefore, you're in the back.” Chloe said matter-of-factly.

“Well, that, and to make sure, one of us isn't left driving while the lucky one gets to play hooky.” Jasmine said, chuckling slightly.

Chloe's head turned slowly to look at Jasmine, her eyebrow raised. “In the back seat of a car.”

His fiancée's chest shook with barely contained laughter as she glanced over at Chloe for a brief second. “In a hospital bed?” Her tone shook slightly as she struggled to keep it even, rather than erupt into laughter.

Jason felt warmth spread across his face, spreading all the way down his neck. Chloe, meanwhile, turned red as a tomato. Though Jason doubted he looked any different.

It didn't take them long to get to the compound, and that was the right word for it. The place was close to a walled community, though high hedges hid the walls; only the gate seemed easily visible if you crawled through the woods to get here. Inside those gates were large gardens leading up to the main building. It reminded him a little of a university campus, if all the buildings were interconnected. 

Chloe had to leave them; she had only asked for enough time off work to help Jasmine get him from the hospital. Not that Jasmine needed the help; at least it didn't look like it. But Jason had welcomed her presence nonetheless. Even if it would have been nice if she had joined them. The long kiss goodbye certainly didn't make him want her to stay any less.

The corridors leading to Jasmine's apartment were empty. Well, empty of people at least. Images, paintings, and murals covered the walls. Even the occasional tapestry. He had his doubts about whether this place was up to the Spokane fire code.

Yet the place wasn't empty. They heard echoes of life from open windows as they walked through courtyards, and from rooms as they walked down hallways. 

According to Jasmine, most of the people who lived here were clan members. Mostly nocitans and their thralls, though a few theurgists lived here on and off, and some of the thralls had other spouses. Kinda like him.

Jasmine's apartment was small and sparsely decorated. It had only three rooms: a joint kitchen and living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. It smelled faintly of rust. Though he doubted anything in the small apartment was rusting. Her talharpa was standing in one corner of the living room, though she had very little else here. Something he suspected was because she saw the place as temporary, like a hotel room more so than a home.

Jason sat carefully into one of the large, plush leather armchairs, sighing as his deeply tired muscles finally rested. He should have used the walker to get here, but alas, now that he was finally allowed to use crutches, he couldn't help himself. A choice he doubted had been a wise one. Not that there was any actual risk involved. He was fairly certain Jasmine hadn't been more than three feet away from him at any point since they got out of the car. His mind flashed back to a day months in the past, as he slipped on something or other and was caught in the arms of a stranger. A veil of golden hair isolating them from the world. No, he had no doubt that should he have fallen, she would have caught him long before his face hit the floor.

They ended up watching some superhero B movie, a particularly forgettable one. It took up most of the time before they had to get going.

They wound their way through the compound toward one of the taller sections of it. This time, they passed people and saw more signs of life as the sun sank lower in the sky. Luckily, the building had elevators; God knew his legs weren't in any state to handle six flights of stairs right now.

A few minutes later, they stood outside a rather nondescript door on the sixth floor of the compound. Despite every indication Jasmine had given that her mother wasn't someone he needed to be nervous about, he still felt his hands turn damp as Jasmine knocked on the door.

It took only a few seconds before the door opened, revealing a woman who looked very similar to Jasmine. She had those same crimson eyes, though that was simply par for the course, and that same blond hair. She looked to be in her late-ish forties. Jason wasn't really sure; the woman had far fewer wrinkles than most people in their late forties. In fact, he didn't see many blemishes or flaws at all. Jasmine was much the same, but she was also far younger. He just didn't expect that many.

“Jasmine, darling, welcome.” She said while giving a small smile to her daughter. Her eyes quickly found his, and her grin grew into a wide, friendly grin. One that showed just a little bit of teeth. “And you must be Jason Smallers. Well, it's lovely to finally meet you, sweetie. I am Solveig.” She waved them further into the apartment. “Well, no use heating for the crows; come in. Dinner's already on the table.” 

Now that she had mentioned it, the smell of cooked meat and scalloped potatoes wafted over him. Jason had to swallow to stop himself from drooling. 

He followed Jasmine, and quite frankly, his mother's deep conditioning, and took off his shoes in the hallway as they entered. 

Whereas the short hallway into the living room contained few images, most of which were recent, the living room was another matter entirely. One wall, the one at the far end of the large dining table, was covered entirely by a massive tapestry. If he was reading it right, it showed the clash of two armies on a field in front of some kind of fortress. One side was bringing back their dead and their foe's. Before a circle of people, did something, a ritual of some kind? Whatever they did, the citadel of the fortress was wreathed in blue-black flame. He couldn't quite explain why, but the visage sent a small chill down his spine.

Along the rest of the room hung framed images ranging from relatively recent to old enough that he suspected his grandfather hadn't been born when they were taken. A sword hung on one wall, out of its scabbard, the blade dented in places. 

As he walked over to the table, one picture caught his attention. It showed a small group of people in the woods somewhere, Solveig being one of them. She barely looked twenty. Every one of them was holding a machine pistol, a pistol, or a bottle of champagne. All smoking. They looked ecstatic. The black-and-white photo showed signs of yellowing slightly, clearly old. On a small stand next to it were a bunch of medals. Some he clearly recognized as German from world war 2. Others looked equally as old, but they didn't look like they came from the same country as the others.

“It's from a little party me and some friends of mine had just after the nazi surrender in Norway.” Solveig said as she carried in a carafe of water from the kitchen. 

“And these?” He gestured to the stand.

She chuckled. “Most are trophies. The others are recognition of service medals of some kind.”

Jason looked at Solveig as he walked over to the table; he knew she was old. But just how old was she? The way she called him sweetie felt less condescending and more like the way a hospitable grandmother might use the word. If she was twenty at the end of ww2 then she'd have to be.

He must have failed to hide his curiosity. Because the woman smirked at him. “It's okay to ask, Jason. I am too unusual and too old to care.”

Jason sat down carefully in his chair next to Jasmine, just across from the old noctian. His mother had always driven home the point about not asking a woman her age. But he did have explicit permission. “How old are you?”

“I am 104, last time I checked. Born in 1922. Though, given that it was rural Sweden, I might as well have been born in 1890 for all the difference it would have made.” She laughed at herself. “Gods, it's rare I actually think about that. It feels like it's been longer.” She glanced wistfully at a shelf filled with images, and something that looked like a massive red scale of some kind.

The woman in front of him was older than anyone he had ever met. Not by much, granted, but if she kept aging at the rate she was, she had what? Another century left, fifty years at least.

Jason accepted the platter filled with smaller steaks, picking the two that caught his eye first. “How old were you when you were?” Jason's question trailed off toward the end. Jasmine had been born a noctian, a pure blood, as she called it. But was her mother turned, was it a fond memory?

“I was 22; that was in 1944. God, was that surprising. Though no one turned me, it just kind of happened. The right parasite born, with the right magic, at the right time, infecting a human. And abracadabra, you got a noctian. Eleven of us were created like that.” She shook her head. “Though we aren't here to talk about how old I am, nor for me to regale you with my life story. I want to know about you. So do tell, how did you meet?” Her eyes settled on him, clearly not interested in her daughter's answer.

Jason's hands paused briefly; he took a large portion of the potatoes, which were heavily loaded with cheese, something very different from how his mom made them. The first eleven– that meant the woman was one of the first noctians, and one of the oldest. The question seemed strange, though; it would shock him if she didn't already know. 

“So the first time was-” He went on to talk about the job interview and Jasmine coming in with Sam for dinner one day.

The conversation proceeded amicably as they ate. The steak was almost raw, yet tender enough that it almost melted in his mouth. The festival of fried vegetables and cheese and cream-covered potatoes made for an excellent addition. He ate far more of those than the steak, though with how much food was prepared, that seemed intended. 

Nearly two hours had passed, and they had moved to the couch, eating pieces of cake Solveig had prepared. The cakes were a collage of Solveig's own life and family; some types were ancient, and others were newer. Some were American, though most were Swedish or Norwegian.

As Jasmine got up to use the bathroom, Solveig's eyes seemed to follow her until the sound of the bathroom door closing came down the hall. Her face then turned to Jason, serious as a heart attack. Jason barely managed to suppress his need to squirm. She rose heavily from her chair, as if her joints and muscles truly felt her age. She seemingly drew out the moment as she walked over to one bookshelf. 

“You know, Jason. You have brought a long-yearned-for wish of mine to fruition. I know your marriage will be in part a matter of practicality.” She turned to him, now holding two photo albums. “Though from what I am seeing, it seems to be more than that. Either way, you are the first boy she has ever brought home. At least like this.”

She walked over and sat down heavily next to him. “So there are two things we need to talk about. The first is something I simply need to say.”

Jason felt a small amount of cold sweat running down his back. “And what is that, ma'am?” 

“If she ever hurts you. Tell me so I can beat her ass into the next decade.” 

Jason blinked. “What?” his tone was higher than he wanted it to be.

Solveig's face split into a grin. “Sweetie, while I do adore my daughter. You're the one who's new to all this. So you should know that you are, for all intents and purposes, family. You have allies here. Gods know you earned that.” Her face turned to the photo albums. “Now. You will help me fulfill an ancient wish of mine. It's the right of every parent to mildly embarrass their kids to their partner. So if you wouldn't mind.” She gestured to the albums as she flipped the first one open.

“Sure.” Jason said weakly as the tension bled from his shoulders. Earning a cackle from the woman next to him. A woman who had clearly enjoyed making him squirm. A warm feeling spread through his chest. The reassurance was nice, amazing, really. Though he doubted he would need it. Jasmine had done a lot to earn his trust after he found out what she was. Yet this felt nice.

The first few images were baby photos, with the only recognizable thing that made the admittedly adorable baby look like Jasmine being the red eyes. As she aged, her face took on more and more recognizable features. In most of them was a man with sharp features, or rather, sunken features. Not like he was starving when the image was taken, but like he had been not long before. Though despite the signs of previous hardship, his face was painted with unbridled joy in nearly all of them. So that's Jasmine's father.

He had never wanted to ask after Jasmine had mentioned he was dead. Jason hadn't wanted to ask then, and he still didn't. The corners of Solveig's eyes creased with what he could only suspect was longing. 

No. Asking about the man could wait, even if he never found out that was fine.

Neither of them heard the bathroom door open, or at least Solveig didn't react. 

“Mom, Jason? What are you looking at?” Jason started as he heard Jasmine's voice from behind him. Solveig managed to keep her composure, or simply knew her daughter would be there.

She turned to look at her daughter with a broad smile spread across her face. “Oh, I am just showing Jason some pictures; that's all.”

Jasmine sighed heavily as she pinched the bridge of her nose, earning a deep chuckle from her mother.