Page 36 of Oh, Sacred Dark
“The newcomers should be given everything in writing too—the mealtimes, the fact that they are free to eat and go outside…and the people who are integrating them should have some training. It was irresponsible for me to take Roman, because I was suspicious of him—I should have been the last person considered for the job.”
Archie closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah, you’re right. Fuck, I didn’t really think…the High Court asked me, and I just…”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Arch. What’s done is done—but we need to do better. I’ll contact Kyung-Mi’s office to see if we can set something up,” Tyler said.
Kyung-Mi was the head clinical psychologist in the coven’s mental health centre—Tyler knew that, although she probably wouldn’t be able to take all the patients herself, she’d be happy to help process the intake of newcomers.
“Good idea. Sorry, I’ve just been…” The edges of Archie’s lips turned down.
“I know. You can’t do this all alone, you know…you’re our high witch, but it takes more than one person to lead a coven.” Tyler was perfectly aware of how overworked Archie was, how impressive it was that he’d taken their community as far as he had—it normally took generations of stability for a coven to truly establish itself.
“Yeah.” Archie sighed.
“I’ll do all the legwork and get back to you, okay?”
Archie tsked. “You have your own job.”
“Don’t be an idiot. My commissions can wait.”
Nothing was more important than the people Tyler was responsible for—his coven, those it fostered, and, in the depth of his heart, Roman most of all.
**********
As Tyler had agreed, he set his wood and metal working to the side for a while, concentrating on the tasks he’d promised Archie.
His remaining energy went to Roman. Even if it hadn’t been his plan, his Dom urges would have demanded it—that familiar pull totake careandnourishandprotect.
He’d started by encouraging Roman to begin therapy and hoping he was in the right mindset to get something from it—Kyung-Mi had told him enough times that therapy wasn’t a cure youtook, but a tool you had touse.
Meanwhile, Tyler devised ways to help Roman become more comfortable with him. He wanted Roman to regain agency as a person, separate from a Dom’s orders.
He would come up with excuses to go to Connie’s farm, dropping Roman off with Charlie and Cross so that he could spend time with the animals. Charlie was a Dom from the South with a drawling voice and calm demeanour that would hopefully put even Roman at ease. Tyler would try to join him sometimes, but, more often than not, he’d stay in Connie’s kitchen, taking care of calls and liaising with covens that had standardised procedures for fostering people who came from difficult situations.
Tyler learnt an embarrassing amount—it became apparent that the Meliora coven had been flying blind in that regard. Even more worrying was the lack of supervision the High Court provided once a foster coven was found.
Not that Tyler was surprised. The idea of the High Court interfering with the dealings of individual covens was anathema to North American culture.
That was beyond Tyler’s pay grade, though.
The only problem with staying so long at Connie’s was that they’d often get caught up in their work and miss lunch at the Main House, meaning they had to fend for themselves at the farm. Which would have been fine…if either Connie or Tyler were any good at cooking.
Connie looked down at the pan she’d been using. “I’m usually better at this, I swear.”
“How does it smell sobad?” Tyler complained.
Connie shot him a glare. “Hey. I don’t seeyoucreating any culinary wonders.”
Tyler held up his hands. “Fair enough. You got anything else?”
“Umm…I’ve got some pancake batter? And turkey bacon. I kind of fucked it up the last time I tried to make some, but how hard can it be?”
Tyler opened his mouth to say, if they were involved, probably very, but he was distracted by Roman edging into the kitchen. “Hey. Sorry, we don’t have food yet, but maybe in fifteen minutes? Twenty?”
Connie winced. “Make that thirty. Maybe.”
Roman stepped a little closer. “I could make something?” he offered tentatively.
“You don’t have to do that.” He didn’t want Roman to think he had to serve them.
