Page 18 of Cathmoir’s Sons (Bad Boys of Bevington #5)

Chapter 18

My Own Italian Villa

KELLAN

D evoted mates. Unwavering affection. Italian villas. These things could turn a girl’s head.

I’m truly not a “material girl.” Law and Luca’s wealth creates more complications than solutions, from my perspective. I like my independence. I like being able to move about unnoticed. Being involved with rich fae princes just brings unwanted attention.

Although Italian villas are very nice.

The villa Law’s bought isn’t flashy. It’s homey and comfortable, from its red-tiled roof to the honey-colored stone floors. Dark wooden beams and paneling frame dozens of rooms. I lose count of the fireplaces. There are eight bedrooms. Eight. None of them look like guest bedrooms, either. Big families in the Italian countryside, I guess.

After exploring the house and barn, which would make a perfect lab for me, with loft space for another guest suite, we end up back in the dining room, where a huge trestle table, polished to a low gleam but scarred from many, many years of use, catches my attention. The room’s rich with the smell of oregano, thyme, and sage from dried herbs hanging off a frame over the table. I run my fingers over the well-used surface.

“They left you the furniture?” I ask Law.

He nods. “We bought it from an elderly couple. They’ve moved to Palermo to be near their grandchildren. Small apartment. We paid them extra so they could buy furniture that fit their new place. They took personal things, pots and pans.” He walks over to stand beside me, curling his fingers around the spindles of a wingback chair, its embroidered cushions yellowed with age, the wood as lovingly polished as the table. “I asked them to leave everything else. I like the feel of it.”

I like the feel of it, too. I turn in a slow circle, taking in the good smells, the good feels. Thousands of meals have been made in the kitchen. Thousands of fires in the fireplaces. Thousands of moments of affection between the cool stone walls. Golden-amber days under the Italian sun. Nights cool enough to nip pink into fingers, cheeks, and noses before being bundled into warm wool and fur.

I throw my arms around Law and hug him. “I love it.”

He touches his forehead to mine. “I hoped you would. I thought of you as soon as I saw it.”

“Thank you, Law. I mean it. This is the most thoughtful gift.”

Luca clears his throat.

I break away from Law, rush to Luca, and hug him. “I’m sorry. Thank you, Luca. This is amazing.”

He hugs me back but releases me quickly and steps back. “I can’t take credit for this. This is all Law. My, uh, contribution’s a little different. Law?”

Lawson raises his palms. “It was your idea. You tell her.”

Luca takes my hands in his. A flush spreads across his high cheekbones. “You, um, mentioned that we hadn’t sent flowers for Doctor Prince’s death. Cait traditions are different. It didn’t occur to either of us. Flowers seem?—”

“They’re a silly ritual,” I admit. “I’m sorry I was critical.”

“No, you were right. If you have expectations for our behavior, you should tell us. Law and I have been around human mages for years but we’ve never tried to fit in. I guess ... I guess that means we haven’t tried to know much about them. It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’m a Necromancer but I know very little about human rituals surrounding death.”

“Is this the first time a mortal mage close to you has died?” I ask.

Luca nods. “We want to do something meaningful. Something Doctor Prince would have approved of. Cait House has endowed a scholarship at Bevington in her name. Full tuition, room, and board for the four years. One student a year for twenty years. We’d like you and Jane to pick the scholarship recipient every year, if you’d agree to be the trustees?”

I squeeze his hands. “Luca, that’s very generous. Jane will be over the moon that Carrie’s name will live on at Bevington this way. And of course I’ll be a trustee. I’m sure Jane will, too. Thank you.” I look over my shoulder at Law. “Thank you both. This is life-changing for a disadvantaged student.”

Law smiles. “Do I get another hug?”

I roll my eyes at him.

He grunts. “If I can’t have another hug, can we at least make our way into town so I can have swordfish?” He rubs his lean stomach. “All the Plane-Walking made me hungry.”

“I thought it made you sick,” Luca says.

“It did. But after it made me sick, it made me hungry.”

I slide one hand out of Luca’s and hold it out to Law. He’s too cattishly dignified to skip, but his steps over to me are quicker than his usual pace. He takes my hand, curls our joined hands up onto his chest so I’m pulled against his side, and leads us out of the villa and down the gentle slopes into the town of Scilla.

After seared artichoke salad, swordfish with zucchini fritte, and several cold Morettis, we return to Bevington. Luca parts ways with us, eager to head to Cait House and try the binding technique that Tsara’s taught him. I give him a kiss on the cheek for good luck and head into Jane’s townhouse, trailed by a fluffy-tailed shadow.

He keeps me company when I take a bath, perching on the edge, occasionally dipping in a paw to flick bubbles at me. I threaten to return the favor but don’t, since I know most cats don’t like water. I read some of the critiques on the papers Luca and I published right before the Yule break to him off my tablet, and forward some of the ones I think we should follow up on to Luca’s email.

Since I have my email program open, a notification pops up. News of Carrie’s puzzle box has spread in the hours we’ve been to Hell, Italy, and back. It’s a message from Danny, copied to the whole team. The subject line says, “when do we leave?” There’s no body to the message.

I lay my tablet on the stack of towels next to the bath and sip from my glass of pink wine.

“Luca asked me the same question,” I tell Law. “He wanted to know if I’d form a team to go after Ulune’s Daughter.”

Law hunkers down on the edge of the bath, folding his paws under his chest and purring.

“Carrie wanted me to,” I say, remembering her letter to Jane. I’m the “mist maiden.” No doubt about that. “Should I go?”

He purrs.

“Please change into your skin. I know what I said about you staying in your fur, but I want to talk to you.”

He shifts so fast it’s a blur. No wonder I never caught him when he was pretending to be my pet. He slides naked into the bath, his back against the tap, drawing my feet into his lap.

He doesn’t ask permission to get in my bath or steal a sip of my wine. He sucks his cheeks in as he hands the glass back to me.

“I was expecting it to be sweet,” he says.

“I felt like something sharper tonight after the swordfish. It was rich, wasn’t it?”

Rich and delicious. The company was surprisingly good, too. Law and Luca were perfect gentlemen. There were a few heated looks, mostly from Law as he watched me eat. But nothing more. At the end of the meal, he excused himself to talk with the family that runs the restaurant. When he came back, the elderly owner was with him, looking starstruck. The human brought plates of sweet orange wedges and tiny cups of chocolate gelati. He shook Law’s hand enthusiastically when we left.

“Why wouldn’t you go after Ulune’s Daughter?” he asks.

“Because I already have a lot going on,” I say.

He steals another sip of my wine before tilting his head back, considering.

“You don’t need more fame.”

“I don’t do this for fame,” I say.

“I know. You do it for knowledge. To bring back what’s been lost. Surely this qualifies.”

I tip the wine glass at him in acknowledgement of his point. He steals the glass again.

“You know whatever you choose, Luca and I will be behind you. Our people, too.”

“You’ve just bought me a base of operations. That’s a lot of support already and I appreciate it. But hunts like this can take months. They get intense. Sometimes I don’t even have time to come home to change clothes. That was fine while I was on Isla Cedros, and no one cared how long my dig was taking. It’s less okay now when I have teaching responsibilities, pressure to publish, and a tenure application due by the end of the semester.”

Law heaves himself out of the water, wraps a towel around his hips, and disappears out of the bathroom door.

“Law?” I call after him.

“Be right back.”

He returns while I’m still frowning after him, carrying two bottles of pink wine. He tops up the wine glass, sets the bottles next to the tub, and climbs back into the water with a sigh.

“I want to have this conversation,” he says. “It’s something I’ve wondered about. But we’re going to need more wine, because I’m confident you’re going to get angry at some point.”

“Angrier,” I say, lifting my eyebrows at him.

He steals the wine glass, throws the contents back in one gulp, refills the glass, and slides it back into my hand. I take a sip and enjoy the crisp berry taste.

“Gooseberry,” Law says.

“I was thinking sour apricots.”

Law nods. “Why are you pursuing tenure?” he asks.

“It’s a thing.” I sigh. “Once a full professor, always a full professor. Carrie and Jane felt it was important for me to leap the hurdle. I respect their opinions.”

“I defer to your mentors, but maybe I asked the wrong question. Why are you teaching at Bevington?”

I tink the wine glass against my teeth before I take another sip and pass the glass to Law. “Magickal archeology doesn’t pay well. I need a steady income while I process my find on Isla Cedros. Having the school behind my name gives me clout when I publish. It also gives me a leg up when I apply for future grant funding.”

“But it limits you from doing what you love.”

“I’m actually a good teacher,” I protest. “I co-taught several classes with Jane before I went to Isla Cedros. My performance reviews from students were excellent.”

“I’m sure you are a good teacher. But is it what you love?”

“No,” I admit. “I love being out in the field.”

“I know. You told me the very first night we spent together in my skin. You’ve told me a hundred times when I’ve been in my fur. I see it shine in your eyes every time you talk about your discoveries. You belong out in the field, Kellan. I want to give you what you love. You never have to worry about money again. You’ll never have to apply for another grant?—”

“I can’t begin to tell you how uncomfortable it makes me when you throw your wealth around, Law.”

He finishes the glass of wine, refills it, and hands it back to me.

“I don’t want to piss you off again, Kellan. I want you to be happy. I want you to do what you love, without limitation. I’ll support you in whatever you choose, but please don’t choose something that locks you away behind a lectern, wiping freshmen’s noses. The world is wide. Let it be your classroom. When it bores you, we’ll move to Faery. There are a million lost treasures in Faery. I’ll help you find them all. No one will stop us. I will be your teeth and claws against the violence of our worlds. But don’t limit yourself. Don’t pick something that makes you small. You are not small, Kellan.”

I blink hard against the prickling behind my eyes. “How do you know what I am? I barely know myself.”

“I see all the wonder that you are. I see everything you could be. I love everything about you, what you are now, what you might become. I’m telling you the truth that’s been in my heart for months. I feel you choosing the easy hunt. I feel your fear taking you away from the path truly less traveled. Why, Kellan? We are Cait and Crow. We’re hunters. We chase down what we want. We’re not prey.”

“My success has come from maintaining a low profile,” I object.

“I understand that. It’s worked for you in the past. But you can’t hide your power anymore. You shine too brightly. You had to hide in the past because you were alone. You’re not now. I know you don’t want protection, but you have it. I’m behind you. Luca is behind you. Luca’s useless human is behind you?—”

“Stop bad-mouthing Rhodes.”

He grins and steals the wine glass.

I rub my toes up and down his ribs following the line of his pink scar. “I got my consorts killed last time around,” I point out.

“This time we know what’s against us. I don’t know who your consorts were in your former life, Kellan, other than that they were Cait. But if they allowed a traitor to get close to you, then they weren’t trained the way I’ve been. You don’t like my methods. I know that. But they will keep us alive.”

“You are an obsessive stalker,” I say, shaking my head at him.

“Cait,” he says.

I wake to a sandpaper face mask.

“You have fish breath,” I whisper.

The cat snuggled to my chest purrs madly and continues licking off my epidermis.

Blindly, I feel for his paw, lift it to my face, and smooch his toe beans.

His purring shakes the bed.

He was the perfect mate last night. He talked me through my worries; he helped me see the forest when I was getting lost in the trees. I still want to make my own decisions about my career, but now I know I have more options than I thought I did.

When I asked him to change into his fur, he did. He purred me to sleep while I kissed his tufty little ears. I woke in the middle of the night to pee and he was still in his cat-form, curled on my chest, with his paw planted against the side of my nose as he slept.

I know Law won’t always respect my boundaries. That’s not who he is. He’ll do what he thinks is right, what he believes will keep us safe. But he’ll give me the small things. The battles he doesn’t need to win. And this morning, for the first time in my life, that feels okay. I’ve been fiercely independent because it’s been me against the world. I’ve had friends and allies, but no one who has been wholly, completely, and immovably in my corner.

He is.

They are.

“I’m still a teeny bit angry at you for lying to me, Law,” I whisper to him. “Don’t do it again. But I believe you. I trust you. I love you.”

He pushes up onto his paws, his claws tickling my chest. Then he rubs his triangular face all over mine. I spit out fur.

“Okay, okay. Gross. Hair.”

He thumps down on my chest and shoves his head under my chin, rubbing and scent-marking me like a little maniac.

“It’s Saturday,” I point out to my favorite purr machine. “I don’t have class until Monday. I’m assuming you and Luca and Rhodes don’t, either. We can’t be seen together and I’m absolutely not having sex with any of you while you’re still students, but if you want to do something together today, we could.”

He starts licking my chin again.

“Should we go find Luca and Rhodes? And no being mean to Rhodes.”

He squashes my nose with a firm paw.

“You are naughty,” I tell him. “And I know what you’re going to say. ‘Cait.’ That’s not an answer for everything.”

His undiminished purring says it is.

More than ready to patch things up with Rhodes, I wash and dress quickly, then leave a note for Jane. Law stays in his fur until we step out of the Fae Ways at Cait House. Aine greets us with squeals about her brother’s lack of modesty that have me grinning. While Law dresses, I catch up with Aine. Her History of the Unseen World teacher at Wydlins has added my discovery to their curriculum. I promise her an artifact from the dig to take into class and promise myself that, whatever decision I make about teaching at Bevington, it won’t take me out of the field. The Magi of the Mist won’t be my last discovery. There’s too much out there that needs to be brought back to light.

Law’s gorgeous in whatever he wears, but my lady parts clench when he strolls back into the audience hall in heavy boots, leather pants, a deep green crew-neck sweater that looks so soft it’s probably cashmere, and a perfectly tailored, camel-colored wool great coat. That his hair is dark blue again doesn’t help the turmoil down south, since that’s what I associate with him as my lover. He doesn’t look like a Bevington student. He looks like an aristocratic predator. He looks like a Cait prince.

Maybe Luca’s right. Maybe being a Bevington senior is the least-important thing about Law.

He takes my hand and pulls me through the Fae Ways to his house on campus, since Aine’s told us that Luca went there last night after a hug with their dad that Aine said lasted “for hours.” I’m sure she’s exaggerating, but I’m delighted to hear that Luca’s been able to use Tsara’s teaching to make his father’s power bearable.

I’ve heard Law refer to the “den” and when he pulls me into the room I saw during my 3 a.m. video-call with Luca, I understand why the moniker fits. Their campus house feels like a cave. Everything’s dim, soft, touchable.

Voices lead us into an open-plan kitchen and eating area. The kitchen appliances are modern, but everything else has a sturdy antique feeling. The kitchen table’s almost as heavy and polished as the one in Italy. It definitely did not come from a box store the way my furniture did.

Three men sit around the table: Luca and Rhodes sitting side-by-side, backs to the door, with Rhodes’ arm thrown casually over Luca’s shoulder. Evan Lords sits at the head of the table, to Rhodes’ left, sipping from a cup of coffee.

My feathers ruffle at the sight of him. He lifts his head and meets my eyes. A glimmer of gold traces around his face.

“Evan,” I say in greeting. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Law shifts, moving to press his shoulder against mine, instead of leading me into the room. Rhodes and Luca twist in their chairs to look at me. Rhodes’ face lights up in hope. When I smile at him, happiness bursts over his face like a sunrise.

“I’ve been talking with Rhodes about his winter study project. I’m going to help him track down the person or persons responsible for the death of his cousin, Odin Nalkaine.”

I have no reason to doubt Evan. One of my best friends is madly in love with him. He’s the new head of the Capricorn Guild, one of the few remaining Zodiac Guilds in the Unseen World. He’s trying to guide the Guild back to their path of being paladins: protectors of humans and mages.

But seeing him here sets my teeth on edge. He doesn’t belong here. My consorts’ den is one of our hearthrooms. Our safest spaces. His presence is a crystal sword at the throat, an iron hand to the heart.

Luca rises in my peripheral vision and moves to my other side. Law turns his head to look at his twin and the Air fills with whispers.

What’s going on?

I don’t know but Kellan’s reacting like Lords is a threat. Be ready.

Lords rises as well, sweeping his green cloak behind him. “What’s going on, Kellan?”

“Why are you here?” My voice drops to a harsh whisper. “What do you really want of my consorts?”

Lords swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “You tell me. What’s going on between you and the Holly King?”

My breath hisses between my teeth. “What concern of it is yours?”

He shakes his head, the golden helmet’s outline flickering around his cheeks. “Kellan, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Crazy rumors have reached my ears. I don’t always see eye-to-eye with Callan, but I’m not going to let you overthrow the Oak King.”

“Why not?” Law asks.

“I just managed to stop Bromios from assassinating the Thistle Regent. What makes you think I’m going to stand aside and let you kill another monarch of Faery?”

Low growls echo on either side of me.

“Don’t pit yourself against us, Evan,” I warn. “You have no loyalty to the Oak King. You’ve sworn no vows to him. Hell has echoed with the screams of Cait souls for a thousand years. He has to answer for that.”

“By your hand?” Evan asks. “The Cait have a king, Kellan. If Cathmoir wants Gwyn ap Nudd to answer for the souls of the Cait, let him call for the Mother’s justice.”

“Cathmoir hasn’t been wronged the way I have. The Oak King owes me four lives. And I will collect.” My fingertips tingle and I rub them against my thighs, feeling the flutter of feathers under my palms. “Stay out of this fight, Evan. It doesn’t concern you.”

Evan shakes his head. The golden helmet shimmers into being, the black crest swishing with his movement, Enochian runes inscribing the edges. Now that I can see more than its aura, I recognize it: the Helm of Azrael. Why is Evan interfering? The archangel has no dog in this fight.

“Ivywhile sits on a nexus of four ley lines,” Evan says. “Killing one of its kings will disrupt the flow of power through the court. You have no way of knowing what will happen to the ley lines. The Capricorn Guild protects the ley lines at all costs.”

“Ley lines aren’t sacred,” I tell him. “Teddy created one while she was a freshman at Bevington?—”

Evan pinches the bridge of his nose, his fingers moving through the helmet like it’s a hologram. “Don’t remind me.”

“Stop using the ley lines as an excuse. Why are you protecting the Oak King?”

“Why are you planning to kill him?” Evan counters. “You’re not an assassin, Kellan. You’re a college professor. Your consorts are students . Is this what you’re teaching them? Is this the example you’re setting for them? Stop this insanity. What happened between the Oak King and the Crow Queens happened a thousand years ago. It’s ancient history. Leave it in its grave.”

“Leave it in its grave? Leave it in its grave ?” My voice drops to a harsh caw. “You are not fae. You do not understand the ways of Faery. That which was, is. That which is, will be. Time is a circle in Faery. I have risen again. I do not forgive my murderers. And I have not forgotten.”

I raise my hand, my claws curving into a bowl. I blow across my hand, drawing on my Element. Vapor pours off my palm to envelop Evan’s head.

The black plume of Azrael’s helmet cuts through the mist as Evan throws his head back. His scream echoes high and cold through the den.

“Marcher! Enion! Rhodrhi! No!”

Another scream, this one dredged from the bottom of his lungs, his soul.

I See what he sees, my sleeping consorts, their heads pulled back by cruel hands, their throats slit one after another in sprays of red.

I shake with the memory. Warm arms wrap around me. But they can’t stop the horror, the coldness, as an iron hand plunges into my chest and tears out my heart.

With a gurgle, Evan falls to his knees. Then he collapses onto his side, the helm hitting the floorboards with a clang.