Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Thirty-Four

Notes: Angelo's almost here! Surely there's nothing to do but wait at this point...

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Thirty-Four

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Chapter Thirty-Four

 

 

Photo by Nikolett Emmert

The level of pomp and circumstance that goes into preparing for Angelo’s visit is, frankly, excessive even for Victor Hambly.

Ciro, woken up far too early after such a late night, sits on one of the couches in his father’s office and watches as the place is transformed from starkly intimidating into something far more sumptuous and, frankly, far more powerful. In fact, it seems like his father is pulling every expensive artifact in the entire Tower into this one room. His assistants have their hands full finding places for them all, especially given the fact that Victor has what must be his entire pack of familiars crammed into the room as well, and the result in the end is a combination of haphazard luxury and zoophilia.

“What’s the point?” he mutters into his coffee.

Richard smacks the back of his head. “Shut up.” Richard was the one to wake him up this morning, and he accompanied Ciro from his room to Victor’s office. Apparently he’s been given the job of babysitter, and equally obviously he’s not happy about it. His cougar growls and snaps at Ciro’s raven, who hops from the back of the couch to the top of his head. His bird’s feet dig through his hair for purchase, and Ciro winces inside. A coil of golden magic soothes the pain, and he fights the urge to smile.

Angelo is on his way, and Ciro is done lying to himself about how he feels about it. He’s not happy Angelo is going to be walking into this awful place, but he’s confident that the man will at least be able to get himself out again. Victor might be a master manipulator, but Angelo has standing of his own, and magic that will protect him. It’s possible that he’ll come out on top in the confrontation that’s coming. And if he doesn’t…

Ciro presses one hand lightly to his stomach. His nerves feel like butterfly wings beating against his ribcage…or a distant flock of ravens. Given enough time, he can augment Angelo’s magic with his own. He can’t pull them through quickly, but he’s not helpless.

A minute later Nephele bursts through the door, a wave of rats following in her wake. Half of them swarm the couch Ciro is on, crawling across his lap and up his arms, while the others stay with his cousin as she stalks over to Victor.

“Uncle!” she hisses, coming to a halt in front of him and putting her hands on her hips. “Why don’t any of my spells work in this room?”

Wait, what?

Victor sips his coffee. “Interesting. What kind of spell were you attempting?”

“That’s not the point!”

He tilted his head consideringly. “It is if you’ve been under the impression that it’s all right to use magic in my private suites.”

“It’s…I…” Momentarily stymied, Nephele rallies. “Ciro is my fiancé! I just want to know where he is! I’m allowed!”

“You don’t tell me what’s allowed and what’s not,” Victor says coldly. “Don’t forget that. As for the spells…I’ve simply pulled something out of storage that I thought might be useful in this meeting. It gives people access only to their inherent magic, none of the extrapolations that come from it. That means you, and I, and the others of our kind will have our familiars here, but none of the spells we can glean from them. Similarly, Angelo will be limited in what he can do. I expect to learn a great deal about what kinnara are capable of today.”

Ciro forgets the cup in his hand, forgets the rats, forgets everything except the surge of panic he feels for Angelo. He doesn’t know how his father learned what Angelo is, but—

“A what?” Nephele asks with a frown.

“A very special magical creature.” Victor looks over at Ciro and must see the fear inside of him, because he smirks. “He doesn’t hide it as well as he thinks, and a little investigation into the remains of his parents’ home in California confirmed it. A kinnara…and he’s made you into his mate. Just perfect.”

Nephele slams her hand down on the desk. “Ciro is mine! He’s not some random witch’s mate!”

Victor gets to his feet and stares her down. “If you don’t—” They’re arguing, but Ciro doesn’t hear any of it. He’s too busy reaching out to Angelo, trying to communicate with him the way he did yesterday. The golden thread loops around the raven he sent to the other man and then Ciro is there, looking through its eyes. He sees Angelo inside a car, dressed in a formal black barong embroidered with gold thread. He hops onto his knee, sees Angelo look down at him.

“What’s wro—”

A scream of his name pulls him back to the office. In the midst of the argument between Victor and Nephele, Richard has left and returned—and he’s got Maria by the arm.

“Ciro!”

He shoots to his feet, then staggers and falls as Richard’s cougar leaps at him, forcing him down and sitting on his back to keep him from getting up. His raven flutters up near the ceiling, as desperate and confused as he is.

Maria looks awful—bruised, bloodied, and exhausted. And yet—“Are you okay?” she demands as she struggles against Richard’s grip. She glares at his father. “What the hell is wrong with you, treating your son like this? Do you really not care if he hates you?”

“Emotion is cheap,” Victor deigns to reply. “Ciro can feel whatever he likes. I own him, and you as well.”

Maria bares her teeth. “No one owns me.”

“Yet here you are, bound against your will.” He shrugs. “A little witch who doesn’t even have the power to manifest her own familiar is no threat to me. I’d honestly prefer to simplify my life and get rid of you right now, but if Mr. [name] is as sentimental as my son seems to think, you might have some use as a bargaining chip. So.” He looks at Richard. “I want her visible as he comes out of the elevator. He’s already been warned about what will happen to Ciro if he tries anything here, but let’s test his resolve. Stay with her after that, and if I send one of my familiars to you…” Victor looks at Maria again. “Push her over the rail. We’ll see if she’s lucky enough to survive a thirty-story drop.”

“Don’t!” Ciro shouts—tries to, but the cougar’s weight presses him hard into the floor, and her claws are sharp against his skin. “You don’t have to threaten her!”

“I know,” Victor replies. “But I want to.”

“Hey, fuck you, dude,” Maria snaps, her bound hands clenched into fists. “I hope you choke on your own fucking tie, you douchebag!”

Victor’s expression sours. “Get her out of here,” he says, and Richard drags Maria back out the door, kicking and shouting the whole way. Ciro wishes he had half of her fire; this shouldn’t be happening. If he only fought harder, if he only…

The cougar finally gets up and follows Victor out. Ciro scrambles to his feet to follow, but four snarling Dobermans block the door, snapping at his arms and legs and backing him up until he’s on the couch again. Nephele’s rats immediately cover him protectively, as thick as a blanket, and Ciro closes his eyes and struggles to breathe under the press of animal, rank and scrabbling and far too much.

“Your softness for him does you no favors, Nephele.”

“He’s mine!”

Victor snorts. “You’re going to learn some important things here today, my girl. Be mindful that you learn the right lesson.” A phone chimes, and Ciro cracks an eyelid open just in time to see his father smile. “Ah. Our guest of honor is here at last.”

No….

“Let’s find out just how much he values you after all, Ciro.”