Lord of Unkindness Ch. 19

 Notes: What the what are they even doing? Let's find out!

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter 19

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Chapter Nineteen

 

Ciro expects yelling. It would track, given how most of his intense emotional interactions have played out. When things get hard, people yell. If you don’t yell, then you’re not being heard. If you’re not being heard, then someone else is speaking for you, and that can only lead to things you don’t want. Ciro, for all he feels he’s right, also knows that Angelo cares for him. Of course he doesn’t want Ciro to make this decision. Of course he’s going to yell at him for it.

Ciro doesn’t expect the magical panic attack.

It’s subtle at first. Angelo doesn’t say anything, just stares at Ciro, his eyes wide but his pupils dialing down to pinpricks. He isn’t touching Ciro with his hands any longer, but it still feels like he’s touching him somehow. An intense pressure rises up all around them, like they’ve just sunk several atmospheres deep into the sea without moving at all, and then—

All around them, gold magic appears out of nothingness, once-smooth threads clinging and clumping together like clots. They stick to Ciro, gummy and cloying, clutching at him all in time with a regular thud thud thud that it takes far too long to realize is Angelo’s heartbeat.

“Angelo, stop,” Ciro says, but it’s as plain as day that Angelo can’t. Ciro isn’t even sure he’s hearing him right now; he’s just staring, looking at Ciro but also looking through him, and whatever he sees is bringing tears to his eyes. His hands are still outstretched, and after a moment Ciro tries to take them again.

Zap! A spark stings his hands as soon as he makes contact. “Fuck!” Ciro swears. He looks around, but he can’t sees the walls anymore, or the ceiling. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s still standing on a floor or if he’s been transported into a place where nothing exists but Angelo’s magic. Which, if that’s the case, things have gone very, very wrong. He tries to touch Angelo again, but the spark is even hotter this time.

Fine. He can’t use his hands? He’ll use what’s left of his magic. He summons his bird, raven-sized once more, who lands on his shoulder and casually pecks at a clump of sticky golden thread. It immediately unravels, stretching out and away like harp strings drawn taut, and Ciro smiles as his bird flies. It uses its beak or claws to pierce each puff of Angelo’s misbehaving magic, calming it down and smoothing it out, until the last clump is finally absorbed back into their surroundings. Then his raven lands on Angelo’s head, bends over, and very deliberately pecks him in the middle of the forehead.

“Ouch!”

The gold vanishes. They’re back in the bedroom, Ciro half dressed and Angelo totally nude and a bunch of harsh words, regrets, and strange magic lying between them now. Angelo looks stunned, like he can’t believe what’s just happened. Now’s the time for Ciro to press his advantage, to get himself out of this mess once and for all and give Angelo his life back.

But…what just happened wasn’t normal. That was far from normal, far from healthy, far from anything Angelo ought to be dealing with on his own. Ciro couldn’t go yet, not if he was just going to make things worse than he already had. He steeled himself, then reached out and took Angelo’s hands again.

No sparks. No pain. Just Angelo, taking a sudden deep breath as though Ciro’s grip is reeling him back into his body. He stares at Ciro for a long moment, then blinks away the suspicious shine in his eyes. “Shit,” he says tiredly.

Feeling encouraged, Ciro takes a step closer to him. “What was that?” he asks quietly. “I’ve never seen your magic do that before.”

“It’s never done that before,” Angelo replies, looking down at their hands. He smooths his thumb over the back of Ciro’s left wrist, where a particularly sticky bit of magic had pulled at his skin.

“Why do you think it did?”

“I don’t…know for sure.”

Ciro sighs. “Hazard a guess, then.”

Angelo’s lips twist in a self-deprecating smirk. “And have you run away from me even faster? No thanks.”

That isn’t fair. “I’m not leaving because I want to. I’m leaving because it’s the only way you’ll have a life.”

“Thanks for making that very important decision about my life unilaterally for me,” Angelo says caustically. “That definitely makes me feel better about all of this.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing here,” Ciro insists.

Angelo drops his hands. “You’re trying to do the thing that’s simplest for you, instead of putting the hard work in to actually make a change for the better.”

Where is this coming from? “I’m not—”

“Yes you are!” Oh, there’s heat in his voice now, genuine anger. It’s almost a relief to hear it. Here comes the yelling. Only it’s not a yell. Angelo, it seems, doesn’t need to yell to be heard when it’s just the two of them. Ciro always wants to listen to him, and Angelo knows it. “You’re so ready to run, you don’t even want to try and make a plan that could save your life.”

“I don’t want you to give up your life for me!” Ciro snaps.

“It’s my life to give,” Angelo snaps right back. “And if you bothered to talk with me instead of at me, you’d have learned that I know someone who can help you learn to channel your magic in a different way. She’s done it before, and under at least as dire circumstances as what you’re going through right now. If anyone can show you how to change your magical signature, it’s her.”

What the… “Why didn’t you say that before?”

“When did I have the time?”

“I don’t know, maybe while your magic was gluing itself to me so I couldn’t move was a good spot for that little revelation!”

The fire goes out of Angelo almost as fast as it came back to him. He lets go and sits down on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands, and says something under his voice in a language Ciro doesn’t know. After a moment of pulling his head out of his own ass, Ciro sits down next to him. “Why did your magic do that?” he asks gently. He can tell it means something to Angelo, but he’s not sure how bad it is. “Is it painful? Does it hurt you?”

Angelo scrubs a hand through his hair but doesn’t look up. “Not…exactly. It can hurt. Not you,” he hurried to add for Ciro’s sake. “It won’t ever hurt you.”

“That’s good, but I don’t want it to hurt you.”

“That’s not something either of us can control, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?” Ciro asks. “It’s your magic, so you’re the one who controls it.”

“Not under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

Angelo shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later, if it becomes relevant. Right now I want to focus on you.” He sits up, and as soon as he’s upright Ciro’s raven perches on his shoulder. Angelo smiles a little, but his eyes are fixed on Ciro’s. “Look. I appreciate that you want me to be able to live my life like I always have, but that’s not an option for me now. There is no way that I’m leaving you to face your fate alone, whether that means confronting your family, hiding so well no one ever finds you, or changing your magic so much that there’s nothing to track you with. I just can’t do it, so please don’t ask me again.”

It’s the way he says it, so simple and forthright, that gets to Ciro. It’s clear now that it’s too late for him to back out of this without repercussions, and not just for himself. “All right,” he says at last. “Fine. So…you think I need to learn a new way of using my magic.”

“I do.”

“And you know someone who can help me do that.”

Angelo smiles a little. “I do.”

“And she’s not going to be pissed at getting dragged into this.”

“She won’t like it, but she’ll acknowledge the debt when I call it in. And from what I understand, she owes you a debt as well, so she really can’t say no.”

Ciro can’t think of anyone off the top of his head who owed him a debt. He hired his services out for money, not favors. Who is this mysterious woman?

Angelo interrupts his thoughts before he could ask. “If we do this, though, you have to promise me you’ll really try,” he says. “No putting in minimal effort and then flouncing off to die your way when it doesn’t work out. I need to know you’re as committed to your own life as I am, Ciro.”

Ciro sighs, because that’s the heart of the issue, isn’t it? He’s not sure he’s worth it, worth all the fuss and bother and pain. Wouldn’t it be easier just to be on his own again, to run until he’s caught and fight until he’s dead? But that wouldn’t be easier on Angelo. Ciro’s let them get tangled together, magically and otherwise, and he can’t leave without doing damage to the one person he wants safe more than anyone else.

Which is, of course, the point. “I promise,” he says solemnly. “I’ll work hard at it. Who’s the teacher?”

A little levity finally comes back to Angelo’s face. “Oh, you’re going to like this. It’s Annette.”

Wait.

What?

Who?

How!?