Chapter Text
Tempest wasn't proud of how he shrieked in surprise when Kassim burst into the house.
He'd come down to find a snack after his shower while his parents took one together. Instead, he'd found his pet looking half dead and half wild, wet and covered in mud, hair falling out of its ponytail, gold eyes wide and breath coming in heaving pants.
“Kassim!” Tempest abandoned thoughts of food, holding his hands out slightly to the side to keep Kassim from bolting blinding anywhere and getting mud where he shouldn't or worse, breaking something.
The bells had jangled a bit a few minutes ago. Tempest had ignored them, assuming Father was right about the tree branches, but this time, it must have been Kassim. Why had he gone out all the way to the fence?
“Hah!” Kassim slid down the door, legs giving out under him so he landed with a hard grunt. Gold glinted around the mud spattering his right leg.
“You're hurt!” Tempest hurried forward. Kassim held a hand up, grimacing.
“Just a scratch.”
“It looks pretty bad.” Tempest pointed at the drops on the floor. “That's a drip not an ooze.”
Dad had started teaching him the severity of wounds, since they had a lot of injuries in their family and he, Paradox, and Victoria—who'd finally messaged him back when he was in the shower (she wanted one of those sewing machines for herself, naturally)—were starting to find their own adventures.
Kassim groaned, pulling his leg up and rolling his pants away from his ankle. Right above the edge of his boot, three oddly placed slashes gushed a steady stream of gold around a layer of smeared mud.
“Ah, fuck.”
“What a weird injury. We should probably clean it. Dad and Father are taking a shower right now, but we could try to find you a different bathroom. There can't be just one, right?” Tempest frowned over his shoulder at the nearly endless doors leading further into the house.
“It's fine, Rat.” Kassim pushed himself up painfully against the door. “I can wait. It'll heal.”
Tempest looked him up and down. He looked battered. Not just mud covered him. Small scratches lined his face and hands, twigs and bark stuck in his hair.
“What happened?”
“Fell in a hole.”
“A hole?”
Kassim grunted, leaving his muddy coat and boots at the door and limping toward the stairs. “A hole.”
“How did you fall into a hole?” Tempest wandered after him, confused. “Why did you go outside? Cody thought you had gone looking for us…”
Kassim hesitated on the stairs, shoulders straight and tight.
“I don’t know.”
Tempest frowned. Kassim had always been weird, but this was something beyond weird. He'd never had a spotty memory like this before.
“Would it—” Tempest trailed off, trying to find the best way to put it, “uh—make sense for us to lock you inside?”
Kassim tensed more, refusing to look at him, voice sharp. “No.”
Tempest flattened his ears back. “Sorry.”
“No, it's okay.” Kassim let out a long, slow breath at the top of the stairs. “I don’t like being locked in a room. My ex tried to kidnap me once.”
“Oh. That sucks.”
Sometimes Kassim mentioned his ex. Never anything good and never by name but Tempest knew it always the same guy. It was awkward and he never really knew how to respond.
“Yeah.” Kassim finally glanced at him like he usually did when talking to him. “I guess I just need to stick to you or your parents while we're here. Or Cody—but I don't think he'd tolerate my smoking.”
“You should definitely move into my room then. We can move your mattress in after you shower. Or maybe Dad can help me while you're in the shower.”
“Help you do what?” Dad emerged from their room, pulling his jacket on.
“Move Kassim's mattress into my room.”
Dad paused, eyebrow arching. “Okay…” Then he noticed Kassim. “Eugh, Chaos, what happened to you?”
“Fell down a hole.”
“A hole.”
Kassim sighed.
“You're bleeding.”
“I'm aware.”
“Where are you going?” Tempest asked. Dad hadn't put his old, pink lounge set on, instead wearing jeans and a t shirt under his jacket. He made a face.
“Gonna see if I can find a shed. There's a water stain or something above our bed and I want to make sure there's not a hole in the roof or something that's going to dump a bunch of half rotten leaves or other gunk on us in the middle of the night.”
“Ew. That'd be super gross.”
“Exactly.”
“Can I come?”
“Sure.”
“Um, where's the bathroom?” Kassim asked quietly before they could abandon him.
“Oh yeah. Fifth door door on the right hand side.” Dad gestured vaguely down the hall.
“Are you going to be okay or do I need to ask Father to guard you?” Tempest asked. Dad raised a brow again.
“Guard him?”
“Kassim doesn't know why he fell in the hole.”
“Well, presumably, the ground gave out—”
Tempest rolled his eyes. “Not like that! Like why he went he outside.”
“Oh?” Dad narrowed his eyes at Kassim. Kassim hunched his shoulders.
“I thought I saw something moving—I think.” His raspy voice got worse when he was uncomfortable. “Uh, I don't really know. I was in bed reading and then—I think I saw something or thought I saw something and—then I fell into a tunnel.”
“Hm.” Dad sucked his teeth. “Guess it's not the bells after all…”
Tempest frowned at him. “What?”
“We were wondering if the bells somehow triggered a weird sleep walking episode for Kassim last night. Guess not.”
Kassim flicked his ears down. “I can, uh, leave, if this is too weird for you.”
“Leave where?” Tempest gestured. “We're all stuck here, right?”
“Right…”
“It'll be fine. We'll keep you away from windows or with one of us at all times,” Tempest said firmly. Dad nodded.
“I'll tell Mephiles to check on you if you want to shower for a while.” Dad looked Kassim up and down. “You look like you could use it.”
“Hah.”
Kassim headed down the hall. Tempest and Dad watched him until the door thudded in place behind him. Dad exhaled hard, rolling his head.
“Poor Kassim. Who knew this place would be some kind of a whammy for him?”
“Is it because he doesn't like wine?” Tempest followed after him as they continued down the stairs. He still wasn't convinced his theory was wrong. Dad scrunched his face.
“Probably not. I don't think grape vines are that vindictive…”
“What about grape vines planted on a hill full of dead bodies?”
Dad hesitated at the door. “Not technically a bad idea to consider…Eh—I still don't think so. Wouldn't that make them vindictive against those of us who drink the wine? Not the one who doesn't?”
Kassim had said something similar on the hill earlier. Tempest scrunched his nose. “Oh yeah. I guess that would make more sense. Do you think he's sick? Do we need to take him to a vet?”
“I don't know if he can get sick. Ah, where'd that umbrella go? Damn. Looks like we're going to get wet.”
“Aw, and I just got warm.”
“Me too.” Dad scrubbed his fingers through his quills. “Good thing the hot water works here, at least.”
He set out to circle the house, Tempest tagging along and staring up at it from the outside. The labyrinth inside made more sense the longer he looked at the odd, jutting exterior. Nothing about the house made sense. Random doors, countless windows, and weird angles seemed to be the norm, no matter what age the wood siding seemed. The whole back of the house sagged in a way that was hard to describe. It wasn't actually sagging—someone had tried to keep it whole at least relatively recently —but the mood of the house sagged. Like Kassim when he got quiet. Maybe Tempest was just reading his pet's mood into the building. Or maybe the rain just made everyone quiet and draggy. Even Dad wasn't talking much as they marched through the wet grass in search of the sheds.
“Are you okay?” Tempest blurted. Dad jolted, whipping his head to him.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”
“I don't know. Kassim is acting weird and you were super tired yesterday and that was weird and now everything feels weird—”
“Oh. Ha. Yeah. Didn’t expect that. But traveling in the rain always kind of takes me out.” Dad shrugged. “Guess that and then everything weird last night just KO'd me. We were up super early with the bells and stuff, you know. Haven't had time to recover yet.”
Tempest frowned. “Then shouldn't you and Father just move rooms and not worry about the stain?”
“We probably will—but it would still be a good idea to see if there's an issue in the attic. Then we can tell those people you met today about it and they'll know we didn't punch a hole in the ceiling if something happens.”
Tempest nodded. He could understand that logic at least. Sometimes adults had weird reasons to do something, but that seemed right. He wouldn't want to get accused of damage he didn't do. It was bad enough when he got caught for damage he did do. He didn't like getting accused of that either, even if it was true.
A dark, twisting vine came into view as they rounded another corner of the house. It matched its friends down the hill, but reached up the side of the house, vines twisting beyond the trellis that it had been planted on originally. It was much bigger than the vines on the hill, supported by the house and reaching like it wanted to mirror the hanging tree out front.
“Whoa. That's a big grape vine.” Tempest split from Dad to go look up at it. Dad joined him, hands on his hips and squinting up at the edge of the roof.
“Wonder if this is the culprit for the stain. Finally broke something up there…”
“I didn't know grape vines could get this big!” Tempest spread his arms out. The vine was wider than he was tall and just kept going!
“Yep. They'll go forever if you don't keep them contained. That's why wineries have those open fields and trellis formations. And an army of seasonal workers to maintain them.” Dad plucked a withered grape from the vine and held it out. “Wanna try one?”
“Looks halfway to a raisin though…” Tempest took it dubiously. Dad grabbed one for himself with a shrug.
“Usually makes them a bit sweeter.”
“Oh. Nice.”
They popped the grapes in their mouths and both gagged at the same time.
The grape had been bitter, slimy, and disgusting. Tempest spat it on the ground and then spat again to try to get the taste out. He'd take another swallow of that gross wine from last night over that.
“I thought,” he choked, “the grapes here made good wine! Doesn’t that mean they—pah pah!—taste good?”
“Eugh! Yeah, it should.” Dad tipped his head back, opening his mouth to gargle with rain water. Tempest followed his example. “Maybe growing next to a house makes the grapes taste weird. Or it’s some kind of decorative grape and they’re not meant to be eaten.”
“Bleh. That sucks.”
“No kidding.” Dad shook his head. “Eugh. Alright, let’s find that shed and get back inside where we can get something good to eat.”
Tempest nodded, leaving the black, twisting vine behind them and following Dad further around the house.