Page 15

Chapter 15

Troublesome

Cian

T he whispering was not subtle. It echoed off the walls of the temple, and the scampering of small feet and clawed paws told Cian it was time for a more secure sleeping arrangement.

Cian opened his eyes to the barest slit in time to catch the disappearing tail of a young dragon around a column, followed by desperate whispers from a human child.

“You’re gonna wake them up!” Leo admonished Eroch in the scathing way only a preteen could truly muster, and Eroch snorted in disagreement.

Both dragon and child peeked around the column nearest the bed where Cian lay atop the blankets with Fenric on the bed. Fenric was in his smaller cat form, a black void on the blue duvet, curled in with his tail over his nose. One peridot eye opened the barest amount, and Cian fought the urge to cackle at the matching amusement in Fenric’s gaze.

After a night of delicious food and delightful conversation, Cian and Fenric must have fallen asleep while talking, and Cian reached out with his senses, the underhill and the wider world telling him it was the next morning, nearly noon. No wonder there was a pair of children scampering about in the temple—chaos rarely slept in.

The children ducked back behind the column, and Cian took the chance, rolling off the bed and ducking behind the headboard, then he darted across the temple and pressed his back to the next column over from the younglings.

He heard them clearly when they noticed he was gone from the bed. Leo gasped and Cian heard Eroch run out from behind the column toward the bed.

Cian moved just enough to peek around his column, and saw that Leo and Eroch had both left the cover of their column and were now standing beside the bed, looking for him. Fenric continued to pretend to sleep, and Cian slipped out from behind his column, and with a silent glide of bare feet on stone, came up behind the younglings.

“Good morning.”

The ruckus from both human and dragon made Cian smile, though he didn’t laugh at them. Leo squeaked and somehow jumped high enough he made it onto the bed and he tumbled across the mattress, wide-eyed. Eroch squawked in alarm and bounced several feet away, spinning and mantling his wings with a hiss, until he saw it was Cian and not a strange monster.

Leo slid off the bed and looked like he was about to run, but Cian merely smiled at the boy and then turned to Eroch. “Did you eat this morning?”

Fenric uncoiled himself and stretched, white fangs bright against the red of his mouth and his black fur. His tail flicked into a happy curl at the tip, and he pranced to the end of the bed, close enough for Leo to reach out and gently scratch his head.

Eroch slowly relaxed and hopped back to Cian, grumbling in Dragon and English about meanies scaring him. Cian chuckled, and rested a hand on Eroch’s head, gently scratching the spots he knew to be itchy on the growing dragon. “Did you eat this morning?” he asked again.

“We had breakfast but it’s almost lunch and Cousin Angel said we couldn’t wake you up to get more meat because Rory said you were asleep and so we thought we’d check just to make sure and you’re awake!” Leo’s stream of consciousness was informative and plaintive, and he managed to make it seem they were suffering even while petting Fenric.

Eroch flapped one wing in a decent impression of a human shrug and looked up at Cian with wide, sad eyes. “Hungry.”

“Well then, the solution is to feed you.”

Eroch bounced a bit in delight. Leo cheered, having far too much energy for Fenric, who slunk back up toward the pillows and lay down again, curling up. He was a shadow on the gemstone-blue duvet, green eyes in a sea of blackness.

Fenric

Fenric watched in open amusement as the young dragon and the preteen Salvatore weaseled their way into getting what they wanted, Cian acquiescing without a qualm to the blatant manipulation from both younglings.

“Tis a fine day out,” Cian mused as he returned to the bed after escorting the two younglings to the arch and shooing them through after explaining he needed to get dressed for the day. Cian sealed the archway with a brief flex of power, preventing wayward children from sneaking back into the temple.

Fenric transformed into a man and stretched on the top of the bed, moaning a bit at the burn in his muscles, yawning wide. He went limp after the stretch, blinking up at Cian, who was staring at him with a flush of red on his cheeks and wide, stormy eyes, colors swirling a bit in response to what he was feeling. Fenric was wearing clothing, but he was barefoot and wore thin silk pants and a thin cotton t-shirt for sleeping. It left little to the imagination.

Fenric grinned, but made no mention of Cian’s staring. “Shall we go hunting to feed the dragon?”

Cian snapped out of it, and he went to an armoire that shimmered into existence beside the bed. The huge piece of furniture was carved wood, covered in fantastical creatures and beings, and was taller than Cian. He flung open both main doors and Fenric sat up, curious as to what was in the armoire.

To his surprise, the ancient armoire was full of regular modern-day clothing—t-shirts, jeans, flannels, henleys. A set of drawers at the bottom opened without Cian doing a thing, revealing socks and boxer-briefs in a variety of cool-tone colors.

Cian stripped off his clothing, tossing each piece into a hamper that appeared beside the armoire. Shirt and pants and then Fenric nearly died by choking on air when Cian slid off his underwear and kicked it into the hamper with a flick of his leg.

Cian was smooth and hairless, skin a rich, light honey with a shimmer of moon dust, his muscles defined and lean. He wasn’t as large as either Simeon or Ignacio, but built more like a ballet dancer. Fenric said nothing, appreciating the view and the trust, eyes taking in every single inch on display. Cian’s rear was perfection, and Fenric bit his lower lip to keep from saying as much. He usually wasn’t an ass man, but Cian was glorious everywhere.

“I was thinking of fishing. We are right on the ocean.” Cian declared, looking through the armoire, deciding on what to wear.

It took a frantic moment for Fenric to find his tongue. “Fishing? Like water and poles and, well, water?”

“Yes, fishing is done with water, my kitten.” Cian sent him a sharp grin over one bare shoulder. He leaned against the armoire and pulled on a pair of socks, then boxer-briefs, giving Fenric tantalizing glimpses of the rest of him.

“But, water!”

Cian caught a look at his scandalized face and cracked up laughing, partially naked, and grasped the armoire for balance. Fenric glowered, sitting up and grumpily crossing his arms over his chest.

Cian wiped at his eyes and shook his head. “I’m not taking Eroch and Leo fishing, my kitten. The beach is outside the wards and there are an unknown number of assassins hiding in the bushes waiting to take out clan members. I have meat in the storage locker here in the temple, so there’s no need for fishing or hunting just yet.”

“You’re such a brat,” Fenric declared, rolling over on the bed and pulling a pillow over his head to hide from Cian.

He heard Cian approach and the pillow was gently pulled away from his head, Cian smiling down at him, green hair cascading down his shoulders as he leaned over the bed and Fenric. “I’m sorry for the teasing, my kitten. Am I forgiven?”

“No,” Fenric growled, face a bit red. Cian smiled wider and then ran his free hand over Fenric’s head, petting him. Fenric would deny that he pushed into the caress if asked, but it felt too good not to accept. Cian carded his fingers through Fenric’s hair and Fenric sighed, giving in. “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

“Thank you, kitten,” Cian said with one last caress and a wicked gleam in his eyes. He straightened and went back to the armoire, Fenric tossing aside the pillow to watch Cian finish getting dressed.

Cian

Cian opened a portal from the cold room where he stored meat for Eroch to the gravel path beside the large fountain in the center of the gardens, next to the oak tree.

Angel was waiting beside Eroch and Leandro, the two younglings hopping in excitement as Cian dragged a large flank of red stag meat across the threshold of the portal, Fenric bringing up the rear in his human form. Cian made sure Fenric was through and then closed the portal, dropping the haunch of meat in front of Eroch.

“Eat up, youngling,” Cian said, summoning a linen handkerchief from the ether and wiping down his hands. He wet it in the fountain and washed his hands, then dismissed the cloth to the ether.

Leo watched him with wide eyes, and Cian winked at the youngster. Eroch fell on the meat with fervor.

“Make sure to char it before eating,” Cian reminded the young dragon, who gave him an abashed glance before settling down to do just that. The dragon opened his jaws and blew out a subtle flame, nearly invisible but for the wavering of the air and the steady blackening of the fur and skin of the haunch.

“You don’t, um, skin it first?” Angel asked with a wary eye on the younglings, but Leo was paying attention to his new best friend and ignoring the adults.

“The fur and skin are good for his digestion,” Cian explained to Angel. “The charring makes it easier for him to break down the proteins, and the fiber from the coat aids in digestion. The charring is essential to their diet. Par-cooked, much like humans do.”

“I don’t like my steaks that rare, but I get your point,” Angel replied with a wry grin. “Can we talk?”

Cian looked to Fenric, who tilted his head toward the bench by the fountain, but Angel shook his head, “You too, Fenric, please.”

Fenric’s brows went up in surprise but he came to Cian’s side and they both followed Angel up the path toward the house, stopping about twenty feet from the two youngsters, just out of hearing range of the boy.

“What can I do for you, necromancer?” Cian asked, Fenric avidly curious at his side.

Angel quirked a brow at them both while gesturing with one hand between them. “Is this a package deal now? The two of you?”

“I…” Cian started but Fenric finished for him with a solid, “Yes.”

Fenric smirked at Cian and Cian rolled his eyes, though he didn’t deny it.

“Fenric, you said you were hired to kill me,” Angel stated, not appearing all that bothered.

“Coerced by the threat of decapitation, but I never took the money,” Fenric said, then he perked up a bit and pulled out his cellphone, checking something. “In fact, the grand master never paid me. Asshole.”

Cian snorted in amusement, and Angel’s lips twitched.

“Do you think you can find the place again where you met him?” Angel asked, expression now totally serious.

“I can,” Fenric asked, suspicious, squinting at Angel. “My fees for contract kills are exorbitant and I always demand a fifty-percent deposit for heads of state or directors of governmental agencies.”

Angel waved that away. “Not to assassinate him. I won’t ask you to spy on him as I don’t want to place either of you in such danger, but the assassins are growing in number and we can’t keep behind the wards forever. Is their endgame to keep tossing assassins at us until luck gets them a successful hit?”

“De la Roche won’t stop unless he’s dead,” Cian warned Angel. “Assassination may be the wisest and most prudent action you can take. Send us to kill him.”

“And turn him into a martyr for a fascist cause? For the next tyrant to laud and worship on their quest for domination?” Angel shook his head. “And I’d rather not endanger you, or us, in such a way. You’re a member of the family, my clan, and asking you to kill the grand master is too much. And besides, I’d rather humiliate him in a duel and kill him that way. Destroy the image he’s cultivated and then destroy the man. Dismantle the High Council from the top.”

“That’s your intent? To duel him to the death?” Cian asked. “He won’t fight fair. And your trick with the bodies in the duel with Malis won’t work again.”

“Necromancer or not, I’m still the stronger combatant and I’ve got people to fight for—all he has is a desire for power.”

“He’s a blood mage,” Cian reminded Angel. “You’ve not fought one, much less one with a sound mind before.”

“I know,” Angel grimaced, hands in his pockets. “I’ll need to work out a viable defense against him before I fight him.”

“You’ve got an expert in blood magic,” Cian reminded the necromancer.

“Constans and Rory are already helping me.”

“I meant Rageshi.” Cian arched a brow at Angel, enjoying needling him just the slightest amount. Angel’s brows furrowed, thinking hard. “He’s a proto-blood mage turned into a vampire. He’s the original expert.”

“We’ve got the language barrier,” Angel said, and he held up a hand when Cian was about to speak. “And I know that a handful of you can speak to him already in various languages, but I’m more concerned about taking advantage of him. He’s been asleep for two thousand years, knows nothing of the current conflict, and I don’t want to involve him if I can help it. Not yet, at least.”

“He’s already involved,” Fenric said, rocking on his heels as he smiled widely at Angel, unrepentant in his disagreement. “We killed a handful of enforcers making sure he got out. They wanted him something bad. That much power, it doesn’t exist in a vacuum. He’s already on the battlefield.”

Angel grumbled, shaking his head once, but he set his jaw and then nodded, obviously displeased but not fighting Fenric’s point. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.” Angel made an effort to relax, rolling his shoulders. Angel turned to Fenric. “Can you send me the address where you met with de la Roche?”

“I can do that now,” Fenric agreed, tapping away on his phone before Angel could share his number.

“How did you know my number?” Angel asked, one brow quirked.

“I’m an assassin,” Fenric grinned. “I’d be bad at my job if I didn’t have your number.”

Angel sighed and rolled his eyes.“Back to the assassins. There’s a variety camped out around the estate and the Beacon Hill house. We can’t keep behind these wards forever. I know the Council can always hire more, but I’m hoping that as the numbers go down the word spreads that this is a bad job to take. And I want them cleared out.”

Cian and Fenric glanced at each other, and Cian nodded when he saw the bright-eyed eagerness gazing back at him. He turned back to Angel. “You want us to hunt the assassins down.”

“If they took the job of killing me or mine, they forfeited their lives, but I’ll leave their fates up to you,” Angel replied, expression ice-cold. “Just don’t leave enemies at our backs.”

“Lovely,” Cian replied, turning to Fenric. “Shall we go hunting, my kitten?”

Angel’s brows disappeared into his hairline at the endearment, but he said nothing, biting his lips.

Fenric looped his arm through Cian’s and leaned his head on Cian’s shoulder. “You always take me on the most delightful dates. Yes, please.”