Page 20

Chapter 20

The Caretaker

Fenric

H e was sore in all the best ways, and he stretched out, enjoying the muscle burn before going limp on the bed. Cian watched him with those stormy eyes of his, and the silvers, grays, and blues swirled in a lazy, content pattern that made Fenric inordinately proud of himself.

Cian was getting dressed on the far side of the bed, sitting on the edge to pull on his magical transforming boots. Fenric admired the long arch of his back and the broad shoulders, the lean muscles and pale, honey-kissed skin. There wasn’t a mark on Cian’s skin anywhere, not a scar or a blemish, though he had some freckles in interesting places that Fenric wanted to lick and kiss. It was too bad that Cian covered such kissable skin with a t-shirt and jeans, though Fenric appreciated the fact that Cian went commando under the jeans.

“Do we really need clothes for whatever you have planned?” Fenric asked, content to remain in bed for the rest of the day, but he figured they’d be interrupted again.

Cian eyed him from head to toe, and Fenric preened under the appreciative gleam in Cian’s gaze. Cian shook his head ruefully. “I’d stay abed all day with you if I could, my kitten.”

“But?” Fenric sighed, already fishing around for his hastily tossed aside clothing.

“I have responsibilities I’ve put off for too long,” Cian stood and shook out his hair, the complicated braids from the night before falling around his shoulders as if they’d just been made, perfect and untouched. “I wasn’t in my right mind for a very long time, then I was incarcerated, and I’ve let things go unchecked in the underhill.”

“It’s not like whatever is in here can escape and run wild,” Fenric said as he finally found his pants in the bedding and pulled them on.

Cian said nothing, merely scrolling on his phone.

“Cian.”

“Yes?” He finally looked up, and Fenric caught a hint of deviltry.

“Things can’t get out of the underhill, right? Not unless you let them?”

“Of course,” Cian replied swiftly, but he was far too nonchalant and his lips were twitching.

“I’m so conflicted now,” Fenric said, getting off the bed and looking around for his shirt. “I want to see what you’ve got in here and I also don’t feel like being eaten by a monster.”

“The kraken still slumbers and the unicorns are herbivores,” Cian said, slipping his phone in his pants pocket. “Watch out for the cockatrices, as they’re all full grown by now and big enough to pick up an adult human, and they’re carnivores. Then there’s the normal predators in the forest. Wolves, bears, foxes, large cats, birds of prey. Zombies, a few revenants, a ghoul or three in the cemetery. The zombie pit was largely emptied by Angel when he used them for an army, but there’s still a decent amount left in the pit, the more unique specimens. A few free-range undead creatures in the swamp as well, but nothing too concerning.”

Fenric paused in searching for his boots. “A zombie pit? Free-range undead?”

“Oh, yes. Likely several, but I can’t recall how many for certain.”

“Just how many different environments are in the underhill?” Fenric asked, finally finding his boots, a pair of socks neatly rolled up next to them. Clean, fresh socks, too. He sat on the floor and pulled them on before tugging on his boots, waiting for Cian to answer.

“Many. Some are quite large, like the forest and swamp. A small inland sea, and a desert, to name a few. Some are so small as to be considered micro-dimensions within the underhill. Others are large enough it would take many days of travel to cross.” Cian shared this with him with casual honesty, as if discussing the weather.

Fenric stayed seated on the floor, hands on his knees, trying to wrap his head around it. He was old, an Elder sidhe, but he, personally, was not old enough to remember the height of power for the High Court Sidhe, when they had underhills that were so large and multi-layered as to contain entire nations, oceans, and thousands of people.

The mound, the underhill, that obeyed Cian and followed him as faithfully as a loyal hound, was apparently immense, whereas Fenric had assumed that while it was powerful, it wasn’t huge.

He was wrong, and that had him looking at Cian with pride and even more respect than before—Cian had access to something that was more valuable than anything else in the world, and he could be living like a god, but he wasn’t.

“What puts that look in your eye, my kitten?” Cian asked, walking over and coming down to rest on his heels, fingers tying the laces of his boot. Fenric shook his head, wondering how the world thought Cian a cold, heartless being.

He was so careful, mindful of what he had, and protective, too. Cian could easily use it to destroy the world and rule the ashes. Yet he didn’t. He had no designs to use it as a weapon. There was no desire in him to have more, to take more, and yet he could, so very easily.

It was for this power that the High Court Sidhe were hunted to extinction, and the same greed nearly killed Cian not that long ago, before Fenric managed to get to Boston.

“Fenric?”

“No one is going to hurt you, ever again,” he said fiercely, grabbing Cian’s hands and holding tight. “Anyone tries to hurt you or take this place from you, I’m going to kill them. Messily.”

Cian gave him a soft, awed smile, and leaned forward, catching his lips in a powerful kiss that had him gasping. Cian pulled back and pressed their foreheads together, holding Fenric’s face in his strong hands. Fenric reached up and grasped Cian’s wrists.“I believe you, my kitten. And I will make the world bleed to keep you safe.”

“I do love you,” Fenric breathed out. “I have for a very long time.”

“I know, my love.” Cian kissed him lightly on the lips. “I love you, too.”

Cian

Loving Fenric was as easy as existing, as natural as a heartbeat. Realizing how fiercely Fenric loved him back was humbling and left him feeling something new, something he used to only feel with Rory when they were alone in the underhill together.

Safe.

Fenric loving him made him feel safe. Secure, anchored, no longer adrift on the whims of Fate. He had another touchstone, a lodestone other than Rory to revolve around, and it was glorious.

Cian led the way farther into the underhill, Fenric at his side, eyes wide and curious as they entered the huge archway in the wall of the temple. Cian dismissed the archway once they were through, revealing a forest path stretching out behind them into the dense undergrowth. Ahead lay the same path, though it widened into a small meadow, open to the sky above.

Or what passed for the sky. The small yellow and white star huddled just below the stone ceiling of the great cavern, several thousand feet above them, providing sunlight and sustenance for the many plants far below. Directly beneath the star was the desert, and on the periphery was the immense forest they stood within, and the swamp that bordered the forest. The roar of a waterfall echoed in the distance off the far walls, and clouds clustered around the highest point of the ceiling, obscuring the very top of the cavern. Cian had no idea the exact dimensions of the cavern, but it was large enough that it would take many days to walk across it on foot, and the small inland sea that occupied the far side of the cavern was wide enough that the farthest wall could not be seen with mortal eyes.

There were seasons within the underhill, though they came and went with a timing that only loosely matched that of the outer world. It was as if the underhill needed to be reminded to have seasons, that autumn separated summer and winter and that spring should follow winter…sometimes. Cian, more often than not, came into the cavern and found it to be summer, with warm days and cool nights, full of life caught in the perpetual grasp of the cavern’s odd sense of time and its passing.

Night fell too, the star crowded by dense clouds, the cavern darkening and the star’s glow hidden, and the great crystals usually obscured by the sharp glare of sunlight managed to shine brightly like stars in the sky. Crystals of all colors, a kaleidoscope of hues, sparkled in the ceiling of the great cavern, visible only when the small star was overwhelmed by clouds.

Now, though, it was what passed for daytime, the sunlight bright overhead and warm on his skin. Fenric tipped his head back and took in the view of the cavern walls and ceiling high, high overhead, hair falling back on his shoulders, the black strands glinting blue and gold from the light.

Fenric caught him looking, side-eyeing him with affection and some amusement, his gorgeous lips tipping up in a smile. “What?”

“You’re lovely,” Cian told him. “I enjoy looking at you.”

Fenric blushed, a soft hint of rose on his pale cheeks. “I like looking at you too.” Fenric reached out and Cian took his hand in his, holding tight. “Who knew you were a romantic.”

“Am I?” Cian asked, genuinely curious. He would not have considered himself to be a romantic at all.

“You are! Spontaneous dates, hunting assassins, stargazing, and now a long walk in a mystical forest inhabited by unicorns and monsters,” Fenric listed off. “I’ve never been so spoiled in my life.”

Cian chuckled and brought Fenric’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “If you’ll let me, I’ll spoil you forever.”

“And what can I do for you? What do you want, or need?” Fenric asked, gazing at him intently.

“I don’t know,” Cian answered. “I’ve never thought about it. A clanmate recently made the observation that I’ve been surviving, rather badly I might add, the last two-hundred-fifty years, and that I need to try living. Maybe that’s what I need. Someone besides Rory to live for.”

“I can’t replace the other half of your soul,” Fenric warned softly. “I wouldn’t.”

“And I don’t want you to,” Cian said. “With you, I remember what it feels like to live for the moment, not weighed down by trauma, horror, and the endless abyss waiting to devour me. I’m alive again.”

Cian stopped their slow amble down the path and turned to Fenric, taking his other hand so he was holding both. “I want you to be yourself. That’s all I need. Be who you are, and if you can love me as I am, then I need nothing else.”

Fenric gazed up at him, serious and intent. He nodded once, squeezing Cian’s hands. “I can do that. If you can do the same for me. Just be yourself and love me.”

“I can do that for you,” Cian promised. “Always.”

Cian gently tugged Fenric in for a hug, cradling his lover to his chest and sighing happily into his soft hair, breathing in his scent. He smelled like Cian’s hair cleanser and that made him incredibly happy, something so simple.

A flash of yellow in the underbrush behind Fenric made Cian tense. Fenric sensed his caution, stilling, though neither moved. Cian saw a pair of yellow eyes in the underbrush along the far edge of the small clearing they stood within, watching them.

He expanded his senses and found the watcher easily. A predator, large, and one not seen in the outer world in over fourteen thousand years. He gently nudged Fenric, gesturing with his chin over Fenric’s shoulder.

“A friend is watching you,” he said quietly, watching the tree line for movement. The males tended to be solitary hunters while the females worked in prides, much like their modern counterparts.

“I smell a cat,” Fenric perked up, and carefully, not making any sudden movements, he turned in Cian’s embrace and quickly found their watcher in the bushes. “Oh, look at you. Psppsppsp, here, kitty-kitty.”

Fenric stepped away off the path and knelt down on one knee, holding out his hand and rubbing his fingers together. There was a heavy chuff from the bushes, then a great tawny head emerged, ears flicking, nose working as the cave lion scented them.

It clearly did not consider them food—the huge male was curious, and it crept out of the bushes on silent tread, an impressive feat for a creature five feet tall at the shoulders and nearly a thousand pounds. Clawed paws bigger than dinner plates padded across the thick grass of the meadow, his black-tipped tail flicking like a bullwhip as he approached Fenric. He towered over Fenric where he knelt, but Fenric showed no fear, not worried at all that the gigantic cat could eat him without any trouble.

They were sidhe, and Fenric was cait-sidhe. Both of them had nothing to fear from the natural world, and Fenric, especially, was safe.

The great cave lion reached out his massive head and sniffed Fenric’s hand, loudly, drawing the scent over his tongue and the roof of his mouth, chuffing in a deep greeting that Cian felt in his chest.

“Look at you, my handsome fellow,” Fenric crooned as the cave lion decided he approved and rubbed his chin on Fenric’s hand, which looked positively tiny compared to the huge maw of the prehistoric beast. “Aren’t you a sweet kitty? Yes you are.”

Fenric carefully stood and the lion stepped closer, and Fenric laughed, roughly scratching along the cat’s neck and up his shoulders, the lion making a deep humming sound in his chest at the attention. The cave lion was easily five times Fenric’s size and yet he leaned into Fenric like a dog, seeking more scratches, mouth open in happy pants and with his chuffs filling the air.

Cian shook his head ruefully—Fenric had a new friend.

There were plenty of species in the underhill that were extinct in the outer world—as the underhill took care of Cian and those he invited to live with him, so too did it tend to the needs of the flora and fauna within its various ecosystems. The underhill was not sentient, though it had a personality and could be contentious and fractious on its bad days—the underhill tried to maintain a balance, and sometimes there needed to be corrections and tools to maintain that balance. Cian was meant to be the caretaker, overlooking and fine-tuning the process.

Hence the cave lion. As best Cian was able to piece together, the cave lions were acquired by a previous, and now long dead, inhabitant of the underhill with a fondness for the large cats. Perhaps another cat-sidhe, as a few of those esteemed Elder fae had once lived in this very same part of the underhill many thousands of years ago. Once a species was part of the underhill, the dimensional magics within took over, keeping the population stable and healthy.

It happened the same with any animal or plant that found its way into the underhill over the millennia. If there was a viable breeding pool, the population would thrive.

Too bad it wasn’t an option for the High Court Sidhe.

Fenric was happily loving on the cave lion, covered in golden fur and content to receive licks from a massive, rough tongue on his face and hands. Cian couldn’t help the laugh that burst free when the lion gave Fenric a cowlick on the side of his head, black hair standing tall. Fenric sighed dramatically, but he was grinning and his eyes were sparkling, clearly happy.

“Can I keep him?” Fenric joked. “I promise to take care of him.”

“I think he’s more likely to keep you than the other way around,” Cian replied. “Male cave lions are quite territorial.”

Fenric gently booped the cave lion on the nose, cooing to the great beast. “I’ll come play with you later.”

The cave lion yawned, showcasing huge fangs longer than Cian’s hands, and shook his head, then he rubbed along Fenric, nearly knocking him off his feet. The huge beast gave Cian a gimlet stare before flicking his thick tail and gliding off into the bushes, silent and majestic. He disappeared almost immediately.

“That was amazing,” Fenric breathed out, eyes glittering. “I thought they were all gone.”

He was clearly emotional, and Cian took one of his hands, gently holding it as Fenric sniffled a few times and wiped at his eyes.

“What else is in here?” Fenric asked.

Cian gave him a small smile. “A great many wonders.”

Fenric

Meeting the cave lion had been amazing. He had no other word for the experience—simply amazing. The great beast left him covered in fur and smelling like the huge cat, but he was more than fine with it and he couldn’t wait to come back to the forest and spend time with the huge feline. The grin on his face was impossible to wipe away and he was excited to see what was next.

Cian held his hand and walked him down the path, and Fenric sensed other creatures in the brush. Deer of some kind, elk, and little furry critters. Birds of numerous varieties, some familiar, some not. The forest reminded him of the ancient Continental old-growth forests that were once found across Europe. Being here in the forest felt like walking into the past.

They were crossing a wide, bubbling spring that had Fenric questioning how and where the water came from, when Cian stopped atop one of the moss-laden rocks in the water and pointed toward the far side of the spring.

A glint of white amidst the trees had his breath catching, and he held as still as possible on the rock on which he stood when the white creature came closer, stepping out from the shade under the towering trees.

A unicorn.

It glowed a stark white against the deep moss green of the ground and dark brown of the tree trunks. Here the forest was all towering pines and oak trees, with sparse ground vegetation from the lack of light through the thick canopy, and once his eyes adjusted, Fenric saw the rest of the herd approaching the spring.

The unicorn in front of the herd was a mare, snowy white from the tip of her horn to the end of her tail, her eyes a brilliant blue to match the sky. The horn was long and dangerous, a snow-white spiral, the tip coming to a wicked point he had little doubt was as sharp as a dagger. Broad hooves with long, white feathering at her ankles and a lush tail that flowed with every step she took. Dipping her head to drink, she kept one eye on them and another on her herd. Her mane was long enough that it floated on the surface of the water when she lowered her head.

Fenric had once seen a unicorn in the distant past, but from far away, and he knew better than to try and get closer. The myth about unicorns and virgins was just that, a tall-tale, but the animals were empathic, able to sense the emotions of all living creatures. They were drawn to emotionally stable and kinder souls, and were capable of killing predators and mortal hunters alike if endangered.

To the various fae peoples across the world, the unicorn was sacred, a living expression of magic. Fenric dipped into a shallow bow, keeping his eyes on the lead mare, wary and respectful. Cian bowed as well, and the mare snorted at them, but less in warning and more an acknowledgment of their presence.

Unicorns were once hunted for their horns by greedy and foolish mortals who thought the horns carried the mystical creatures’ magic—but all they got was a pointy horn, the magic existing only within the living animal. Unicorns had no natural predators—their meat was poisonous to consume, and only a handful of scavengers were able to digest the beasts once dead. Predators knew better, avoiding unicorns as much for the danger they posed as the pointlessness of trying to eat them.

The lead mare was a solid, snowy white, but when the others stepped out from the shadows of the trees, Fenric was startled to see that the herd was comprised of many different colors—one young stallion was a solid black with fiery red eyes, and there was even a dilute appaloosa mare with white spots, buff legs, and golden-brown eyes. The young stallion snorted at them, pawing at the bank of the spring with his front hooves, but the lead mare shook her head at him, mane flying, and he calmed, though he kept shooting them defiant glares as he drank.

“We’ll go back the way we came and then go around them,” Cian said softly, and numerous ears flicked in their direction, a few hooves stamping, but none of the unicorns made an aggressive move. “They tend to get aggravated by me.”

“Why?” Fenric asked, not seeing any signs of annoyance or aggression in the herd. They were watchful, but that was it. Maybe the young stallion was a bit testy, but that was the way of things for most creatures of a certain feisty age.

“Rory said once that it was because I was too cold,” Cian answered, leading the way back across the spring over the large rocks, the spring bubbling up from the ground around them in a crystal-clear pool a few feet deep. “The unicorns are quite fond of him.”

“You’re not cold at all,” Fenric said. “You just don’t suffer fools.”

“Thank you, my kitten.” Cian made it to the shore and took out his phone as Fenric leapt to the ground beside him. Cian zoomed in and snapped a picture, and to Fenric’s amusement, sent it to a group chat. He slipped his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the vibrating alerts that Fenric could hear coming in fast and thick.

“Who are you trolling?” Fenric asked, curious.

Cian grinned. “The necromancer.”

Fenric shook his head, chuckling. “He’s going to set you on fire.”

“He won’t, not if he wants to see a unicorn.”

It finally registered with Fenric—Cian sent a text. “You have cellphone reception in here?”

“Along with wifi.” Cian gestured for him to look over his shoulder, toward a tall peak covered in trees. “Look near the summit.”

He squinted, but finally saw it—a cell tower. It was cleverly placed among the trees, the top of the tower poking out from the canopy. “How? What?”

“I went to Wyoming and stole it.” Cian said with a grin and a casual shrug. “I stole a ton of signal repeaters for the wifi as well. Those are scattered through the underhill.”

“The underhill has electricity?” Fenric asked.

“Of course.”

They found a place to sit on the bank of the spring, Fenric leaning on Cian’s shoulder. They watched the unicorn herd drink and graze on the lush green grass around the edge of the water for nearly an hour in silence. The lead mare was ever watchful, but eventually she relaxed, and then she drifted back among the tall trees, the herd following her, multi-hued ghosts in the shadows.

Fenric sat beside Cian, content to watch and marvel.