Page 21

Chapter 21

Lazy Days

Cian

T hey spent the day together, and Cian knew he’d never had a more peaceful, relaxing day in his long life; not since he first left his mother’s side eons ago. He took Fenric to see as much of the underhill as they could reach by foot, including the sweeping expanse of the forest and the edge of the mountain range.

Fenric enjoyed himself, if the constant smile on his face meant anything—his peridot eyes were bright with happiness and excitement, and he asked questions the entire time.

They didn’t see the unicorns again, but the cockatrices appeared in the sky briefly, the huge creatures keeping their distance, heading for the desert and avoiding the unicorn territory. Not even a cockatrice was bold enough to attack a unicorn, much less a whole herd of them.

Cian dismissed the grand arch that led into the deeper reaches of the underhill, the temple surrounding them once more. The torches came alive around the outer wall, and in that same wall, an arch of regular stone led to a new hallway.

Curious, Cian mentally asked the underhill what it was about—the answer made him smile and he called over his shoulder. “Fenric, come see.”

Fenric came to his side, peering down the hallway. “This is new. Where’s it go?”

“Go ahead and look,” Cian instructed him, gesturing for Fenric to go first.

The hallway was about twenty feet long, wide enough for two people, and then there was a dark wooden door waiting for them, tall and heavily carved. It bore a medieval hunting scene, but instead of the hunters killing the unicorn and dragon, the hunters lay dead beneath the hooves and talons of their prey. Cian heartily approved of the artwork.

Fenric warily eyed the brass door handle, but after a brief pause, he reached out and opened the door, swinging it inward, revealing the room inside.

A bedroom awaited them.

It was large, the floors and walls made of stone to match the temple, but the floor was covered in thick rugs and had various places to sit and lounge. A fireplace was lit, the fire crackling, and the mantle was carved and huge, a painting of an old master placed high above the fire, depicting several ballet dancers moving across a stage in unison.

Two huge armoires stood side by side opposite the bed, which was Cian’s platform bed with the four posts and canopy, the curtains a rich burgundy, draping to the floor and tied back with golden cords to each post. The bed was piled high with pillows in various shades of red, and the duvet was a rich, vibrant crimson. The red hues complemented the varnished wood of the bed frame. The entire bed was raised a few steps up from the floor on a stone platform.

There was a seating area in front of the fireplace, a love seat and two big armchairs. Opposite the fireplace was a collection of bookshelves which were recessed into the walls, full of books and various items that Cian had kept in storage for hundreds of years. A chaise lounge big enough for two people sat beside the shelves, a reading lamp at each end and small end tables too. There was another door on the wall with the fireplace, and from what Cian saw through the opening, it was a large bathroom.

There was a soft thump, and Fenric’s duffle bag appeared on the floor in front of them. Fenric knelt and opened it, revealing all his belongings—and a few scattered lamps came on in various places in the room.

Cian chuckled.

“You can put your stuff away where the lamps are lit,” Cian informed Fenric, who was looking around the room with a slightly perplexed expression on his face. “It made us a bedroom.”

“This didn’t exist before now?” Fenric asked, a bit dazed, eyes wide.

Cian shook his head once. “I usually sleep in the temple. This room is new. The underhill approves of our relationship.”

“It does?” Fenric whispered, tears welling in his eyes. Cian reached out and pulled his overwrought lover into his arms, holding him tightly.

Fenric sniffled and clung to him, shoulders shaking as he quietly cried. “I’ve never had a place to really call home, not in a very long time.”

Cian kissed the top of his head. “You have a home now, my love.”

Fenric let go and wiped at his eyes. “Thank you,” Fenric said to the listening underhill. Cian felt a slight shiver through the stones beneath his feet.

“It says you’re welcome.” Cian translated for Fenric.

Fenric took a moment. Cian pulled a clean handkerchief from the ether and gave it to his lover, and Fenric took it with a murmured thanks. Cian reached out and gently swung the bedroom door shut, and he pointed out the inside of the door to Fenric. “There’s a lock on this door—how utterly perfect.”

Cian

For two days, it was quiet.

Nothing happened.

Well, nothing violent at least. Cian spent the two days with Fenric, enjoying the quiet time.

The watchers at the entrance to the estate neighborhood changed out every twelve or so hours, but no new assassins took up positions around the estate grounds. Cian knew better than to assume the Council was rethinking its strategy, or perhaps running out of people to hire. The bounty on the Salvatores was high enough that there was always going to be someone coming for them, even if the caliber of assassins varied widely.

Angel had returned to his townhouse in Beacon Hill with Simeon, but came daily to the Mansion to make sure everything was well. His new apprentice, Rael Morrow, and Rael’s mate, Jameson Mercer, were at the Beacon Hill townhouse as well. Milly was also staying in Beacon Hill with Angel, her home needing repairs after the Council forced their way into it.

Angel had repaired and reinforced the wards and shields around his own townhouse, and Rory and Daniel urged Angel to go to the Tower and speak to Rageshi about blood magic.

For some reason, Angel was reluctant to involve the ancient vampire.

Cian figured it had something to do with Angel’s conscience protesting the vampire’s involvement in the ongoing war with the High Council. Much like Rory, Rageshi had awakened to a vastly different world than the one he remembered. Yet where Rory slept in limbo for two and a half centuries, Rageshi slept for over two thousand years. Rageshi had no choice in his awakening, aside from leaving it in Constans’ hands—he was now on the playing board whether he wanted to be or not. And Rageshi was too powerful a piece not to play.

As the chosen caretaker of the underhill, Cian understood the challenge that lay in front of Angel. Use what tools he had or risk losing everything.

There was one difference between Angel Salvatore and the High Council—Angel was not willing to sacrifice people in order to win. In any other situation that would spell his defeat, but in Angel’s case, it merely meant that he would sacrifice himself to protect his people.

Cian was waiting for Angel to understand that final piece of the game between him and de la Roche. His reticence at utilizing Rageshi’s knowledge, and Cian’s control of the underhill, was holding him back from winning the final battle.

Yet Cian knew it was coming, Angel’s decision. He knew the necromancer too well by this point not to see the sacrifice play coming.

All Cian had to do was thwart the necromancer’s attempt and take care of the problem himself.

Cian wondered how Rageshi was handling modern conveniences and technological advancements—he had no twin with a mind-bond to help him grow acquainted with living in the twenty-first century. He hoped no one showed him reality TV.

Fenric

In the span of several days, Fenric went from effectively homeless to living in a very fancy magical mobile home.

He had no complaints.

Two days of resting and spending time with Cian as he took stock of the state of the underhill was enough to make Fenric very happy. And feel very spoiled.

Fenric rolled over on his back, purring, enjoying the late afternoon sun in his largest cat form in the Mansion’s garden. The sky was cloudless, the breeze was cool, and the sun heated his black fur through, making him all but melt on the lush grass beside the fountain. Rarely was he in a place where he could transform into his largest form, the black dire cat capable of taking down a grown man, though in the last few days with Cian he’d had plenty of opportunities to be as big as he pleased and stretch out that facet of his nature. Perhaps he could return to the underhill forest and play with his new cave lion friend.

Not far away, the elder Salvatore, Ignacio, was teaching his son the basics of magical theory, primarily how to access his inner vision and how to decipher what he was seeing. The big man was patient and thorough, with a deep, rumbly voice that was pleasant to listen to while he dozed. Ignacio and Leo had come outside to find Fenric dozing, and after a charming Leo asked if Senór Cat minded if they practiced nearby, they’d gotten to work.

The weather was perfect and if Fenric was a cooped up eleven-year old, he too would jump at the chance to have training sessions outside. Even a massive mansion could feel restrictive if he wasn’t allowed to leave under the threat of kidnapping.

“The light I see from inside of stuff is magic?” Leo asked his father.

Ignacio answered readily. “It is magic, as well as life energies. Many practitioners theorize that life energies and magic are one and the same, though it leaves open for discussion what different types of magic are, like death magic. There are lots of theories.”

“I can see death magic really easily,” Leo declared. “It’s all over the ground.”

“Your affinity is very close to the surface. How are you feeling about that?”

Fenric cracked open one eye and saw Leo thinking hard about his father’s question, his little brow wrinkled. “Nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” Ignacio asked kindly, one big hand on his son’s small shoulder.

“I don’t wanna break anything.” Leo looked down at the ground, the toe of his shoe lightly kicking at the grass.

Ignacio knelt and put both hands on his son’s shoulders. “Is it because it’s called a breakout event? Sometimes nothing happens—you can wake up with your affinity one day, nothing broken. Or you can sneeze and break a vase or something.”

“The house has lots of fancy stuff in it.”

Ignacio smiled and hugged his son. “No one will get mad at you if your affinity comes in and breaks something. Cousin Angel especially. He went through the same thing you are going through.”

“He did?” Leo asked, hopeful.

“Oh yes. And you’re both necromancers. That’s far less explosive than a fire mage or other elementalist. Your grandmama was a fire elementalist, and when she was a girl, she sneezed once and set her nanny's hair on fire.”

“She did? I bet she got in a lot of trouble,” Leo said, eyes wide.

“It was an accident, and no one was mad. We practitioners all go through the awakening of our affinities. We understand it. No one will be mad if there’s an accident or something gets broken.”

“Okay,” Leo sighed, but to Fenric he still sounded worried. Ignacio must have heard the same as he stood and took his son’s hand.

“Come, let us go talk to Cousin Angel about it.”

“He won’t be mad?”

Fenric doubted there was anything Leo could do to make Angel mad at him. He had a soft spot for the kid a mile wide.

Ignacio gently tugged and Leo followed him up toward the house. “He won’t be mad at all.”

Quiet returned to the garden, but for the soft buzzing of bees and the singing of birds. Fenric closed his eyes and returned to dozing, happy to be under the sun and not running for his life or planning a job. He really needed the break. The late afternoon breeze was cooling enough that he wasn’t baking under the sun.

“Hi.”

Fenric opened the single eye again and saw Daniel standing nearby. Fenric opened both eyes and rolled upright, lifting his head and yawning. “Hello,” he said, trying to sound like he was awake but it was difficult. The sun was very warm.

“Can I join you?” Daniel asked, gesturing to the nearby edge of the fountain.

“Sure.”

Daniel went to the fountain and sat, and Fenric stretched out, one leg at a time, extending his toes and claws, relishing the muscle burn. He shook out his coat and then primly sat, tail wrapped around his front paws. “What can I do for you, little sidhe?”

“Hey, I’m taller than you,” Daniel retorted with a smile.

“So you are,” Fenric replied, tail tip flicking. “But I am older.”

“Everyone I know is older than me,” Daniel said. “Except for Leo.”

Fenric twitched his whiskers. “What’s on your mind?”

Daniel was a bit flustered, but he gamely pressed on and answered. “I want to get to know you better. I think you and Cian are going to be a permanent thing, and I want us to be friends.”

Fenric’s tail thumped on the grass, once, twice, and he struggled to find a reply, overcome by emotion. He was too old to be so overwhelmed by so simple a statement.

“I don’t have a lot of friends. Or any, actually.” Fenric took stock of his life and realized how grim it really was—he went from job to job and hardly took time between them for any living. His handlers were nameless and faceless strangers he talked to over the internet about killing people. “Cian and Rory were my friends before we lost each other. But then I thought them dead, and I didn’t try to make any more.”

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel said. “Can I ask what happened? I don’t like asking Cian; he was really traumatized by what happened to Rory. And Rory doesn’t talk about it much for the same reason.”

Fenric decided the tale was better told in his sidhe form, and he transformed, shifting from cat to man-shaped in seconds. Daniel stared at him in surprise and a bit of wonder, clearly impressed. Fenric sat on his rear, cross-legged in the grass, and tried to look encouraging. Daniel was sweet and kind, and he didn’t mind talking to him.

He just had to rein in his more sarcastic impulses to have a normal conversation.

“The twins had brought over a shipload of refugees from the High Council,” Fenric said. “Mostly fae peoples on the run from Ireland and the British Isles. The British Army was gathering outside Lexington, in a field where we had set up a temporary camp. The British commander wanted to use the field—and clear us out at the same time. The military did not look kindly on refugees, especially the fae. They were part of the trouble back home for many fae peoples we had under our protection at the time.”

“Oh Hecate,” Daniel sighed. He probably knew right where Fenric’s tale was going.

“I warned the twins and our friend Colm of the impending attack, and the three of them went to hold off the British. I led the refugees away.” Fenric met Daniel’s eyes. “I didn’t see Rory fall, nor was I there for what Cian and Colm came up with to keep him alive. They were all three gone by the time I returned to the field, and no one knew what had happened. The local colonists had won the battle, but none of them could tell me what happened to the twins aside from that Rory fell in battle. Colm was dead, burned on a pyre not far away. I searched for weeks, but there was no trace of Cian or Rory to be found.”

Memories of that long ago time were as fresh as the day it happened. The downside of a long life was an eternity of bad memories.

“Cian wasn’t himself with Rory in stasis,” Daniel said. “If he had been thinking rationally at all, he would not have left you. I’m certain of that.”

“I know,” Fenric replied. “I don’t hold it against him. The second Rory was in stasis, Cian lost so much of himself that I’m impressed he made it as long as he did. Most twins follow their other half into death if one of them falls. Cian lasted an incredibly long time before he got lost in the Abyss.”

“Cian uses that term a lot,” Daniel said. “The Abyss. What is it?”

“I can’t give you a solid answer, only a guess. From legends and myths from my people and Cian’s. We are both Elder fae. Both our people tell of a darkness that surrounds the outer limits of our existence, that which is beyond Life. It is not death, but something…else. When a twin pair is separated by death, or stasis like Cian and Rory, then they are vulnerable to the Abyss. Most succumb almost immediately, going mad and becoming violent, desperate, uncontrollable. Cian lasted over two-hundred and fifty years before it took him.”

They sat quietly for a long moment before Daniel spoke up. “You’re an assassin?”

Fenric tried not to smile, not wanting to freak out the younger sidhe. “I am. Been doing that for about eighty years.”

“Eighty years?” Daniel was both impressed and alarmed.

“I started hunting fascists in Europe, and eventually people paid me to take them out. That turned into a lucrative job of killing people for money.” Fenric shrugged. “I turned a fun hobby into a full-time job. Kind of took the fun out of it, but it pays the bills. Well, it would if I had any bills.”

Daniel was doing the math in his head, and finally came up with the obvious answer of who Fenric was hunting in Europe eighty years earlier. “Oh! Wow, okay. Good for you.”

Fenric grinned. “Thanks.”

“You took the job to kill Angel?”

“I had a couple of swords on me at the time.” Fenric shrugged one shoulder. “I went hunting for information. I wanted the job details to use as currency to get information about the twins. I ended up almost losing my head, but it was worth it. I found Cian again.”

Daniel grinned at him, clearly pleased. “I’m glad you found each other again.”

“Me too.”

Cian

He found Fenric talking with Daniel in the garden. He paused just at the periphery of the garden center where they sat at the fountain, talking animatedly. They made a striking pair—one golden, the other dark. Daniel was dressed in light colors—a white t-shirt, jeans a light blue, a pair of sneakers in white and blue completing the look. His hair was golden blond, eyes storm-touched blues and grays, and his skin had taken on the dusty golden sheen that all sidhe had—he was a study of gold, white, and blues.

As a foil to Daniel, Fenric was dressed in all black, a thin t-shirt that clung to his torso, showing off his trim form and muscles. His black linen trousers were light and loose, falling to his ankles and his bare feet. His black hair, highlighted blue in the bright summer sun, fluttered about his jaw in the breeze. His bright green eyes seemed to glow when he smiled and laughed at something Daniel said. He was beautiful.

Fenric caught sight of him, and the smile that Cian got was near blinding with love and welcome. Adorable fangs peeked out from behind soft pink lips Cian wanted to kiss.

His feet took him to Fenric before his brain thought to move—he sat in the grass beside his lover and scooped him up in one arm, neatly depositing Fenric in his lap, hugging him to his chest. “There you are.”

Fenric wriggled a bit, getting comfortable, and turned his head to press a kiss to Cian’s jaw. “Were you missing me?”

“I was,” Cian replied, low and husky.

“How fares the underhill?” Fenric asked. Cian had gone for a brief walk through the lesser traveled areas of the underhill while Fenric decided to soak up some sunlight in the outer world before the sun set.

“All is as well as can be after so long without tending,” Cian sighed. “It’ll take me time to understand the full extent of my negligence, and longer to set things right.”

“None of it was your fault,” Fenric defended him. “You weren’t yourself.”

“Thank you, my kitten,” Cian hugged Fenric a bit tighter, enjoying the purr that escaped Fenric when he tightened his hold.

A sigh drew their attention to Daniel, who was watching them with a brilliant smile. “You two are simply adorable. I am so happy for you both.”

Cian had no idea what to say, but Fenric didn’t have that problem. “Thank you so much.”

“We should hang out more, the four of us,” Daniel said. “We’re family now.”

“Where’s Rory?” Fenric asked, neatly sidestepping the topic.

Cian knew the answer but let Daniel reply. “He’s with Angel, trying to convince him to go speak to Rageshi.”

“Rageshi is scary-old for a vampire but he’s on our side, right? Is Angel afraid?” Fenric asked, brows furrowed.

Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think he’s afraid, at least not of Rageshi. I think that Rageshi is extremely powerful, and the medallion complicates things. I think Angel doesn’t want to use Rageshi. He’s a person, not a weapon. The medallion removes his free will. Constans is a great guy and won’t abuse it, but that doesn’t change the fact that the medallion controls Rageshi.”

Cian understood Angel’s reticence. Understood, but didn’t necessarily agree with it. Angel was reluctant to use Cian in much the same way—ostensibly speaking, Cian was under house-arrest under Angel’s care for the next thousand years. For all that Angel was by far the kindest and most considerate warden Cian ever had, he was technically in charge of Cian. Cian did give Angel his word he would bow to the necromancer’s authority until his original prison sentence ran its course.

Angel respected free will too much to want to take advantage of people under another’s control, outside the bonds of loyalty.

Angel needed to get over his reticence and talk to Rageshi.

Cian stood, holding Fenric in his arms, making his kitten squeak in surprise and cling to his shoulders. He chuckled, gently putting Fenric down and kissing the top of his head. Daniel laughed and stood too, shaking his head at Cian.

“Come, let us go talk to the necromancer. We have an ancient vampire to visit.”