Lord of Unkindness Ch. 10

 Notes: Ooh, we're getting SPICY! And not in the good way!

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter 10

***

Chapter Ten

 

Ciro is a dismal human being.

He knows it. The life he’s living isn’t much of a life; he’s trying to build a life, so that he can leave this shadow state behind. There’s a lot to do before that can happen, though, before he finally has the resources to disappear into the world as a whole new person. He needs money, he needs magic, he needs connections that go beyond his family. He needs a new identity, he needs a place to go, he needs a place to go after that. He needs to be free and clear of all human connection that could tie him, and that’s the real reason that Angelo is so dangerous. Being around him again, just for a few hours, reminds Ciro of how nice it is to be near him. To talk and laugh and eat his cooking, to watch him work and be taken care of and think about how he could take care of him in return.

That was all Ciro ever hoped for out of whoever he ended up with. Arranged marriages were never about affection, but he knew that affection could grow there regardless. His parents had genuinely been friends, partners, up until his mother’s passing. He’d seen it in others; he’d felt that much with Annette before Nephele had almost killed her. Annette had been like him; a pawn for her family, but willing to make the most of it. But she wouldn’t live in the house of someone who’d tried to kill her, and Ciro’s family wouldn’t let him go, and then…Annette was gone anyway. Taken off the board by an assassin who left no trace behind, just anguish at her loss.

But Angelo was still there.

Stop it. You’re going to fuck yourself up. Ciro tells himself this all the way back to Vernon, taking two different buses and keeping one hand on his phone the whole time.

Angelo might text. He might call. What will Ciro do if he calls? Should he answer? He shouldn’t, but if he doesn’t then Angelo won’t let Maria let go of her connection to him. Unless she already has, which seems likely. Maybe—

His phone buzzes. Ciro whips it out and stares down at the unfamiliar number. His throat feels hot and tight, and his heart is about to beat out of his chest when he finally opens the message and reads

[Hey birdbrain!]

That’s not Angelo. Disappointment and relief battle for top position in his brain for a moment, and relief wins out.

[What?]

[What’s up?]

He scoffs. [Pretty sure you shouldn’t be wasting time talking to me right now.]

[Why, because of the gorilla? Bossman put him down, everybody’s okay now. You should have stayed; I could have Ubered home with you.]

[Not happening.]

[Yeah, not happening now at least. Because you ran like a scaredy cat.]

Ciro huffs the barest whisper of a laugh. If only she knew. [That’s me.]

[What, you’re not even going to defend yourself? Come on, argue with me!]

[No.]

[Yes.]

[No.]

[hahahaha you’re doing it right now!]

It’s stupid. It’s inane. It’s fun, and Ciro relaxes into the dumb back and forth as he gets off the bus and starts to walk. His raven perches on his shoulder as soon as it can, preening his hair as they walk off into the darkness toward his awful apartment building.

The affection from his own magic makes Ciro feel warm and comforted, and the banter with Maria is just distracting enough that he doesn’t notice the foulness around him like he usually does. Even entering his building is less morose than usual, because he doesn’t have to look at the mildew stains on the walls or the vomit in the corners, he can focus on something other than the smells of old food and fresh cigarette ashes. He just types on his phone, easy, until he unlocks his door, steps into his apartment, and—

Crunch.

Ciro freezes as he stares down at the floor, transfixed by the sound he’s just caused to be. His phone buzzes with a new message, but he doesn’t look at it. He can’t. He can’t even bring himself to look up from the floor, where a slide of his foot reveals that he’s just stepped on a cockroach. It’s still twitching, just the antennae. It’s almost an inch long, mahogany brown, and the rustle and shift deeper in the apartment tells him that it’s far from the only one in there.

His raven hunkers down on his shoulder, cawing fiercely. It’s protective; he can feel that his magic wants to lash out, but Ciro can’t let it, not yet. Not until he knows for absolutely certain that he’s been found by…

“My dear nephew.”

Fuck. It’s his uncle. The phone in his hand thunks to the floor, dropped by newly nerveless fingers.

“Shut the door, Cyrus,” his Uncle Magnus says from where he sits on Ciro’s awful futon. He’s leaning back with his legs crossed, the perfect picture of gentility in his expensive suit and slick haircut, but Ciro knows better. He can feel the storm brewing within his uncle, sense it in the flutter of thousands of wings and the scuttling of tens of thousands of legs. Ciro shuts the door even as his instincts go into a panic. His raven flaps and flaps and flaps until—

A hundred roaches fly into the air and swarm his bird before Ciro can so much as scream. He does scream as his raven flutters and flaps, striking out, but the roaches are prepared. They burrow into its feathers and sink into its body and crawl into its mouth, and before Ciro can do anything to save his familiar, it’s a hollowed-out husk on the floor, seething with his uncle’s power. He turns wide eyes to his uncle, who smirks, his upper lip twisting from the palate scar.

This is why Uncle Magnus is so dangerous. Not because of his raw power, but because of the insidiousness of it. Nephele is the family’s next generation powerhouse, but Magnus keeps everyone in line for his brother. Losing Ciro was a personal failure for him. Now that he’s found him, he won’t let him get away again.

It’s over already. Barely half a year of freedom, if this can even be called freedom, and now he’s found and he’s going to be dragged back. The walls feel like they’re closing in on Ciro.

“Sit with me, my boy,” Uncle Magnus says, gesturing to the futon.

“No,” Ciro husks out. His lungs are on fire. He can’t breathe. He leans back against the door, fighting panic and losing. His magic is responding, it’s coming, but it feels so far away. “No, no…”

“There’s no use in denying the truth that’s right before your eyes,” his uncle says. “Your little tantrum is over, Cyrus. It’s time to come home.”

“No…”

Uncle Magnus’s eyes glitter in the lamplight as he continues, “Nephele will be so happy to see you. She’s missed you so much.”

Ciro squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t want to see her.”

“You don’t have a choice.” He hears his uncle shift on the futon. “And neither do I. If it were up to me, I would get her a better husband. There are men out there who are less powerful but more easily biddable, and she’ll perform better with someone who won’t challenge her authority. But she loves you, so…”

“She doesn’t love me,” Ciro snaps, glaring at his uncle. “Obsession isn’t the same as love.”

“It’s is for us,” Magnus replies. “And I’m going to give my daughter who she wants, restore my brother’s faith in me, and bring you down a notch all at the same time.” He laughs as he gets to his feet, and a wave of shiny brown bodies parts as he steps over to Ciro.

“You think you’re going to have any kind of freedom after this behavior? Your father is going to keep you leashed to Nephele’s bed, with your magic locked down tight. Perhaps after you give her a child you’ll be allowed to walk around with an escort, but I doubt it.”

Ciro is shaking. He can see it, picture this awful fate as clear in his mind as reality. He’s shaking, and the door is shaking, and the world is shaking, but his uncle just laughs. “Foolish boy. Your father will never trust you again. He’ll make Nephele his heir and you nothing but a breeder, and that’s all you should be after all the ways you’ve fucked up. You’re no better than your goddamn mother, you stupid little—”

There’s a crash. A flurry of black, zipping around the room. And then—

A raven crashes into the side of Magnus’s head, but it doesn’t stop there. It goes right through his skin and skull and into his brain, and a second later black ooze pools out of his far ear. Magnus’s eyes go black, and his face goes still, and he falls to the floor, crushing dozens of his own familiars in the process. They swarm him protectively, half of them spending themselves to heal him while hundreds more launch themselves at Ciro, but there’s another raven, and another, and another. They swoop around Ciro like a cyclone, snapping at roaches. The edges of their wings blur with power, becoming blades that interact and join and expand until the entire apartment is vibrating with Ciro’s protective energy. It’s not enough to completely stamp out his uncle’s concentrated power, but it’s enough to give Ciro the time to wrench the door open, run out into the hall with his birds, and flee.

On the run, yet again. One way or another, this little life? It’s over.