Page 4

Chapter 4

Teacher, teach.

Cian

F enric left as the night grew darkest, saying goodbye with a slow, parting of promises to return, and mentioning he needed to get some sleep in a real bed. Cian held off on asking him to stay—inviting someone to the estate was outside of polite bounds at the moment, though he doubted the Salvatores would object if Rory vouched for Fenric. Cian was not sure how much weight his word would have.

The wind spoke of a quiet night, birds sleeping in branches, critters searching for food in the tall sea grass that covered the sand dunes right outside the garden walls. The wind also carried to him whispers of the mortal practitioners lurking at the periphery of the estate grounds, their harsh words and exclamations disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. Likely enforcers bored with their duties, or assassins waiting for a chance at their targets.

Being dead isn’t all that bad , Cian thought to himself as he meandered through the lush grounds of the Salvatore Mansion, the sharp breeze cooling as it lifted his long hair off his neck. Dawn wasn’t far off, and he wondered how the sun would look as it crested the ocean in the east. He might head to the beach to see the sun rise.

Close to sunrise and with no mortals about to witness Cian not being dead, he was free to roam the borders of the Salvatore Mansion’s expansive grounds, limited to within the ward lines by his word to his new jailer. In his long life, he’d been in plenty of jails and prisons, but the young necromancer was by far the most lax and generous of all the wardens to ever host Cian, and he was rather amused by the arrangement. His death in the eyes of the human authorities may not hold—a secret never could when more than the dead knew it—but for now, Cian Brennan, notorious serial killer and one of the few remaining High Court Sidhe in the world, was dead, murdered in prison by his own guards.

A satisfying end, he hoped, for the families of his victims, those he killed when his sanity finally cracked and the abyss carved him into a hollow, shattered version of who he was before that fateful day in Lexington centuries earlier. The murderer of their loved ones was dead, no longer sitting out of reach for a thousand years behind bars.

Cian grimaced, looking down at the ground beneath his feet, listening to the bedrock far below the beach, the hum of the wind overhead, a distant rumble of thunder heralding another round of summer storms, and tried his best to dispel the memories of his dishonor from his mind. Dwelling on the evil acts he committed when he was not rational and could not control his fears, misguided hopes, and worst impulses was foolish and did nothing but blind him to the present.

He’d lived too long to be haunted by the past. The only way to survive eternity was to live in the moment, and maybe think about tomorrow.

At least he wasn’t alone anymore.

A giggle, sweet and charming, floated through the garden, and Cian rolled his eyes as he touched minds with his twin, and caught a glimpse of Rory kissing his husband on the beach.

The newlyweds had the same idea, it seemed. Cian considered turning around and giving them privacy, but Rory sensed him and sent a wave of welcome along their mental connection. He turned his feet toward the beach, walking down the length of the expansive gardens and then through the iron fence set in the tumble-stone wall, the flagstone path giving way to seashell gravel. The demarcation between the magically tended and protected gardens and the wild seagrass dunes was rather severe—the gardens held plants and trees not local to the shoreline, since the harsh ocean conditions on the sandy shore were tough on the maples and varieties of pine trees kept safe within the walls of the garden.

He found his brothers atop the tallest dune along the path, sitting together, Rory’s arm around Daniel’s shoulders, face buried in the golden locks of the newest, and youngest, High Court Sidhe in the world.

Not so young, though. Grown by both human and sidhe standards, Daniel Salvatore was all man and there was nothing childlike about him.

Rory’s hair under the setting moon was a dark gray and gilded silver, blending in with the grass around them. The stars were bright and few, twinkling in the ink-black sky, fading away in the east where the sun approached, and the western sky that was visible over the top of the Mansion was cluttered with stars as if they were fleeing the sun in hopes of shining for just a while longer.

Cian climbed the dune and came to stand at Rory’s shoulder where he sat on the ground with his husband. The bright smile from Daniel put to rest the worry he was intruding. He sat on the dune, close enough for his shoulder and side to align with Rory, and he turned his attention to the eastern horizon. Not long now.

Daniel was practically in Rory’s lap, and he was able to reach out and take Cian’s hand in his, squeezing. He glanced down at their joined hands and squeezed back, gentle, despite knowing that Daniel was sidhe now and just as unbreakable as Cian and Rory.

Cian didn’t like harming something delicate. An odd trait for a sidhe whom many would call a sadist, a monster, but it was true. He abhorred harming innocents, the senseless breaking of delicate and precious things.

Though he loved bloodshed, too.

But that was a thought ill-suited to the comforts of family and the beauty of the rising sun.

Cian

The icy wind and salt air was not so different from the beach at the Salvatore Mansion, but the view was a huge change. Cian breathed in the salty air, crisp and clear, enjoying himself.

There was an insistent knocking on his mental walls, but he took his time taking in the view.

For humans, having another voice in their head was a sign of madness. For Cian, it was how he knew he was sane.

Rory, his twin and the other half of his soul, wasn’t just a voice, but his conscience, a source of comfort and love, and a steadfast confidant who didn’t judge Cian’s less…polite thoughts.

Sharing a soul wasn’t a hardship. Not for Cian. High Court Sidhe twins—well, multiple births of all numbers—had been a unique expression of magic in the living world when life and magic were new. Young, adaptable, malleable magics forged the Elder fae species in a more direct manner than the generations of much younger fae species that came eons later. Only the multiple births of Elder fae had shared souls.

Cian and Rory weren’t the only twins of their people when they were born, but as the ages passed and the world changed, the High Court Sidhe gradually vanished and their numbers dwindled. He was certain they were the only pair of twins left among their people.

There were less than a hundred High Court Sidhe in the world.

A people who once numbered in the millions, now diminished to functional extinction.

It was sad, in a distant fashion—it affected Rory and his tender heart more than Cian when the reality of their situation encroached on their thoughts and memories, or came up in conversation with the new extended family. The Salvatore Clan was comprised of highly intelligent, curious, educated, powerful, and stubborn as hell practitioners and vampires. The curious practitioners were almost as annoying as the frustratingly stubborn vampire mates.

Rory was more inclined to indulge idle questions from the other family members, but Cian was well aware that both his new brother Daniel and Eroch, the growing dragon fledgling, had him wrapped around their every whim and want. They were both hard to deny, and really, Cian saw no reason to say no to either. Whether it was answering a billion questions about the things he saw or experienced in his immortal life, or teaching a talkative toddler dragon how to order organically raised beef and bacon by the pound from a butcher.

Currently, Daniel, his new brother, was exercising his familial privileges and sweetly badgering Cian with a multitude of questions without any sense of logical progression, jumping from one topic to the next in a chaotic method that Cian was finding charming instead of annoying. But then, Cian did love chaos.

“Have you ever seen a volcano erupt?” Daniel asked, all but vibrating with anticipation of Cian’s reply.

“Quite a few,” Cian answered. “From varying distances and perspectives, some of them rather unfortunate in their proximity. And I’ve felt many of them erupt, too.”

“You talk fancy when you’re trying to impress someone,” Daniel teased with a wide grin, making Cian roll his eyes.

“Shush, and listen to Teacher,” Cian ordered primly, and Daniel cackled, making Cian smile at the younger man’s silliness. Having a little brother was a new experience, and one he was coming to enjoy as much as the bond he had with Rory.

Rory, ever-present as he was in Cian’s mind, had become especially nagging in the last few minutes, and with amusement and no less than ecstatic glee, he kept his mental walls up, effectively ignoring his twin. He left just enough transparency in his mental walls for Rory to feel his amusement and to know Daniel was safe, and that was it.

Rory wanted Daniel to attend more lessons with the mortal practitioners, Ignacio and the head of the clan, Angel Salvatore. But while both men were incredible sorcerers, and Angel an experienced teacher of human higher magics, Daniel was no longer human.

His training had no need to be structured like he endured when mortal and so very human, even with dual affinities. Sidhe abilities were intuitive and instinctual, and with Daniel’s training in control of his magic from his human life, he was well-equipped to manage the new, more powerful abilities of his aspects.

Cian sensed when Rory accessed the underhill and ordered it to take him to Cian and Daniel, and he mentally gave it permission to do as his brother ordered. Teasing his brother was one thing—stressing him out by withholding his mate was entirely out of bounds.

Teasing Rory was something he missed dearly while Rory slept for those many years, and he was very happy to reinstate the habit. It was pitiful how little time it took before Rory was missing his husband and came looking for Daniel. They had phones. Rory could call Daniel if he missed his husband or if the matter was urgent.

Cian stalled the underhill, having it languish in the middle of the Atlantic while Rory insisted on speaking to him directly. He relented, and Rory rushed fully into his mind with a hint of aggrieved brotherly love and impatience.

Brother, where are you? Rory grumbled in the back of his mind. Where is my husband?

Cian squinted against brilliant sunlight and leaned forward a bit, just enough to see over the edge of the cliff to the sea several hundred feet below.

I believe this island is called Surtsey. A lovely island southwest of Iceland. Very new to the world; it came into being while you…slept. Cian took a moment then continued. Its birth was riotous, as is the usual for a volcano, though it made international news and excited quite a few people around the world. And a treat of a destination for Daniel, as I am teaching him to travel as one of us. The underhill likes him. And I’ve never been here, so it was a fantastic place to try for his first attempt. Went swimmingly.

Daniel was sitting on the edge of the cliff, not at all bothered by the height of the cliffs, the icy sea winds, or the glare from the summer sun. The sky was a shocking light blue with no clouds, and the sunlight off the ocean was blinding, though their eyes adjusted quickly.

Golden hair blowing in the breeze, Daniel glittered like a jewel with the sea framing him, and Cian sent the image to his brother. Rory promptly sent back a wordless order to stop playing games, and Cian relented, letting his brother travel the remaining distance to them.

A rumble of the black dirt under their feet, and the archway to the underhill rose from the earth, shining obsidian of the blackest blacks. Once it stabilized, the inner space flashed with light before showing Rory standing on the other side in the temple.

Daniel spun and gasped happily, eyes bright with joy when Rory stepped through the archway and joined them on the island. “Rory!”

Daniel leapt to his feet, practically launching himself at his husband, who caught him with ease, laughing at the exuberant greeting.

Cian sighed loudly at the enthusiastic kiss the lovers shared, somehow dramatic in their reunion after a mere hour apart.

Newlyweds.

“Why on earth are we on a volcano in the frigid north?” Rory asked, loudly enough to be heard over the wind.

“I like it here. No people,” Cian retorted, arching a brow at his brother. Rory quirked a brow right back at him in a move that perfectly mirrored his expression, and Cian grumbled at the teasing from his brother.

“My idea. I googled places on Earth that few people had even visited and it turned out Cian had been to all of them.” Daniel pouted briefly, and Rory tugged his mate to his side in a secure hold, making Daniel smile up at Rory, expression bright and full of joy at being with his husband. “I then googled any new places on Earth. One turned out to be Surtsey.”

“I don’t know the name,” Rory said, brushing back strands of long green hair caught in the sea breeze. He squinted at the immediate vista and the surrounding sea cliffs.

“It popped up about sixty years ago when a volcano began erupting on the seafloor,” Daniel shared, excited by their field trip.

Rory was trapped in limbo when the island was born.

“That explains it,” Rory said with an overly dramatic sigh, making Daniel laugh.

Rory had been in stasis at the time and Cian had no recollection of the event in question, but that didn’t mean much. Cian had been alive for a very long time, long enough that he’d forgotten more than he remembered. The world kept existing whether or not he was paying attention to it—and for the last century, Cian was not…himself.

“How go your lessons, beloved?” Rory asked, expression already full of pride for his mate’s progress.

“Okay, I suppose. I’m not sure if the underhill is actually doing what I say, or taking pity on me and doing what I want because I’m bad at ordering it about,” Daniel bit his lip, brow furrowed, and Cian sighed at the circular and foolish thinking.

“You think too little of yourself, little brother,” Cian declared, stepping back from the cliff’s edge and looking toward the black stone peak of the island. “We’d still be twiddling our thumbs beneath the greenhouse you call home if the underhill wasn’t obeying you. It…likes you, as near as I can tell.”

Daniel blushed at the light praise. The very old sidhe mound, the underhill, was historically stubborn and played favorites, typically only obeying Cian. Rory had to all but beg for it to do what he desired.

Daniel shuffled a bit self-consciously before smiling at Cian, bright as the summer sun. “It likes me? How do you know?”

“It didn’t drop you off the cliff, for one,” Cian smirked, and Daniel gasped at him before breaking out in a peal of laughter.

“Cian, stop teasing me, that was so mean!” Daniel ordered, pretending to glare at him.

“My apologies, little brother.”

“I’m not actually your brother, ya know,” Daniel said softly.

Cian shook his head and smirked again, this time deliberately, and rolled his eyes at Daniel. He didn’t reply, instead gesturing to the area around the archway. “Are you happy with your destination? We’ve ascertained another of your new abilities. No one aside from myself or Rory has commanded the underhill in thousands of years, so any doubts you might have regarding your new nature can be laid to rest, surely?”

Daniel shrugged one shoulder when Rory looked at him with concern. “Were you worried, beloved?”

“Not really? A teeny bit?” Daniel sighed. “Old doubts surfacing. Worries about not being good enough, with my affinities coming in late, and then suddenly I’m a High Court Sidhe and meant to be Balance, but what do I know about balance when I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Your aspect is not something you need to learn, like driving a car or using a computer. Your aspect is literally who you are—and you’re already exactly who you should be. You’re not less a sidhe because you were human first.” Rory was adamant, and Cian agreed with every word, nodding along.

“I’m not teaching you things to judge you for how well you do them,” Cian added when Rory took a breath.

Daniel eyed him with some trepidation and hope, as if afraid to believe either of them, and it was beyond Cian’s abilities to resist those pleading eyes. “Even when there were more than my brother and me living in the underhill, the mound only answered to me with any dependability. It quite reliably ignored sidhe all the time, even those sidhe far older and more accomplished than myself,” he paused, then nodded when Daniel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “This was not a test, youngling. I merely wanted to share some of the more enjoyable parts of your new nature—it need not be all lessons and lectures, serious and studious and so dreadfully boring.”

Rory was resisting the urge to sigh, and Cian sent his brother a wink while Daniel thought about what he’d said.

“The lessons with Ignacio and Angel are really intense. Ignacio is…something else. He’s a storm mage, over two hundred years older than me, and trained in methods used primarily in the nineteenth century. I’m not knocking him either, he’s impressive as hell. His education and experience have only grown since then, too. And Angel—well, Angel is Angel. Enough said.” Daniel took a breath and ran a hand through his golden hair, lips twitching in a rueful smile before fading. “I’ve been trying really hard to be worthy of the great men who have chosen to teach me—both practitioner and sidhe.”

Cian froze, surprised. Rory sent him a swift glance full of affection and amusement before taking both of Daniel’s hands in his own. “Beloved, you need not prove a thing to anyone. You have forever to learn whatever you like. If our lessons are too much right now, we can always resume them later in the future. There’s no rule that says you must be adept in both practitioner and sidhe magics immediately.”

“Angel would say it’s dangerous not to be trained, especially with new affinities and an entirely new type of magic.”

“You’re an apprentice no longer, Daniel,” Cian declared. “Angel is no longer your master. If you want to stop or thin out your lessons and have a day or so off from training, there is no one to gainsay you.”

Daniel looked startled, like he had never thought of that before, and he turned eagerly to Rory, who stifled a deep sigh. Daniel was giving Rory a devastating combination of wide puppy-dog eyes and a slight pout, beseechingly asking without words for a break in training. Not that Rory was in charge of training—he was merely the most adamant next to Angel that Daniel be able to defend himself. Cian was delighted when he sensed his normally responsible brother give in to the imploring eyes of his beloved, delighted that Rory was bending and compromising.

Those eyes of Daniel’s were impossible to resist, though Cian had more of a chance than Rory did.

“Very well. I’ll message them and inform the elder Salvatores that we’ll be playing…Cian what is the modern phrase?”

“Skipping class,” Cian supplied. “Older gens would say you’ll be playing hookey.”

“Ah, yes, thank you.”

“And how are you here, halfway across the world?” Rory teased Cian, though Rory knew the answer well enough. “Hasn’t Angel asked you to remain on the estate?”

“Oh! Cian left behind a facsimile in the greenhouse,” Daniel explained eagerly. “It was amazing! He literally plucked a portion of his thoughts free from his body, planted them in the illusion of himself taking a nap in the greenhouse, and away we went! Can I split my thoughts like that, too?”

“Only way to know is to try,” Cian replied, but he wasn’t sure himself. “Soul walking is a talent that comes from my aspects of mountain reaches and icy peaks. It lends itself to travel across impossible spans.”

“So I might not be similar enough in my aspects to manage it,” Daniel said, frowning a bit as he thought. “We’re both storm aspects, but mine is the storms at sea and along the shore, while you’re the storms that rage in the mountains. I think I’m too far away from that talent.”

“Never say never when it comes to magic,” Rory cautioned with a smile. “Maybe all it takes is some imagination and willpower, and you can learn it like any other skill.”

Daniel’s phone chimed with an incoming message. He pulled it from his pants pocket and checked. “Angel is wondering where we are. He found the facsimile.”

“Perfect time to try ordering the underhill for the return trip.” Cian gestured to the archway. “Shall we?”

Daniel took Rory’s hand and headed for the archway, Cian following.