Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Thirty-Three

 Notes: The final breath before the storm!

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Thirty-Three

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Chapter Thirty-Three

 

Photo by BUB graphics

It’s late, but not too late for a family dinner.

Getting out into the world for the first time on his own, Ciro was surprised to find out just how troublesome familiars could be to their witches, especially at mealtimes. Begging for food, leaving hairs or feathers on the table, even nipping their witches as an admonishment to share—it had stunned him to see such bad manners. In Hambly Tower, a familiar who wasn’t completely under the control of their witch, especially during a meal or a meeting, was a familiar who wasn’t long for this world. After all, the Hamblys had more. What did it hurt?

Ciro’d had a lead familiar from his birth all the way up to the age of thirteen. He’d never used them up in his magic, never changed their form in any way. They had been his dearest companion as a child, much dearer than his clingy, angry cousin or the fiancée he saw only twice a year. He’d even named them, much to the disdain of his father.

“They are our own magic, not creatures to be cozened,” he’d snapped when Ciro first told him his raven’s name. “Ridiculous. Get rid of it.”

“Let him keep them,” Ciro’s mother had protested. “It doesn’t hurt anything to have a dedicated familiar.”

“It’s a weakness, and one that could be taken advantage of,” Victor had replied with a vicious light in his eyes. “As you well know.”

Ciro’s mother had just waved a hand dismissively and turned to Ciro, smiling gently at him while one hand gently stroked down his raven’s back. “I think Joy is a lovely name.”

Needless to say, no familiars show up at the dinner table. Even Nephele’s rats are hidden as she, Ciro, and Victor sit down to eat in the formal dining room on Victor’s level. Richard’s there for a moment, silent by the wall, but his cougar is  nowhere to be seen. Ciro compromised by directing his raven to perch on a bust of his great-great-grandfather by the door.

The first course is brought out by a silent member of the staff. Ciro, who hadn’t eaten all day and was close to falling over from hunger, reaches for the salad.

“Ah-ah,” Victor chides him. “Wait for the last member of our family to join us.”

Ciro raises an eyebrow. “You, me, Nephele. What, have you invited some of the extended family to join us?” They had a number of second and third cousins and several great aunts in residence as well, but Ciro almost never saw them. They had fewer than ten familiars apiece, which made them decidedly lower tier in the Hambly hierarchy.

“Your Uncle Magnus, of course.”

Nephele starts. “Daddy is in bed,” she says in a small voice.

“I had him brought to dinner.”

“He needs to rest.”

“That’s all he does no matter what room he’s in now,” Victor says coldly. “This is Cyrus’s welcome-home dinner. You wouldn’t want your father to miss it, would you?”

Nephele bites her crooked lower lip but stays silent. A moment later, Richard escorts Magnus in. He’s in a reclining wheelchair, practically smothered in blankets, and his expression is blank. His eyes are open, but there’s no indication that  he can see anything.

And every inch of his bare skin is the shining brown color of a cockroach.

All the breath leaves Ciro, and he can’t help but stare as his father gets up and comes around to his brother’s side, then flicks one finger against the skin of his…cheek? Carapace? Ciro doesn’t even know anymore.

…orange and white scales on her skin, a fin erupting from her back as she falls into the pool…

“A startling transformation, isn’t it?” his father muses. “Very rare among witches, but far more common with those who have multiple familiars. Our bond with our magic is basic, elemental even. The more walls we strip away from ourselves, the closer to our animal natures we get.” Victor smiles. “Have you ever read Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, Ciro?”

“No,” he says through stiff lips.

“A startling level of ignorance. I should have had more education beaten into you. It’s the story of a man who turns into a cockroach, and all the ways in which his family grows to hate and neglect him until he finally dies, alone and unloved.” He looks back at his brother. “It was one of my favorite books when I was younger. I used to visit your uncle in the clinic and read passages to him while he was getting treatments for his scoliosis, just…to entertain him.”

“Just let him go back to bed,” Nephele whines. “Daddy can’t eat solid food anymore, you know that!”

“He can’t do much of anything anymore, thanks to Ciro.”

He didn’t know this was going to be the result of his attack back in Vernon. If he had, Ciro would have tried harder to kill his uncle outright. Magnus, like Nephele, had fought hard for physical independence, and to see him driven so deeply into his own magical nature now that he even looked like a cockroach, it was cruel. Ciro feels the weight of his actions like never before, and it must show on his face, because a moment later Victor nods to Richard, who takes Magnus away again.

“Eat,” Victor orders. Ciro doesn’t feel hungry anymore, despite his body’s needs, and picks his way through three courses and a small slice of sacher torte while his father checks in with Nephele on jobs and prepares them both for meeting with Angelo tomorrow. The thought of seeing Angelo is both warming and warning, and before long Ciro is pushing back his chair.

“I’d like to go to visit Mom’s shrine before I turn in.”

Victor stares down his nose at him, even though Ciro is standing. “I took the shrine down. It was a waste of a room.”

Ciro can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Obviously he knew his parents had never really loved each other, but they’d still been partners for nearly two decades before her death. To destroy a piece of her culture, their family history…

“Her tablet is in the atrium,” Victor goes on with a little smirk. “You can visit it there. I’m sure you’ll be able to find it.”

Of course he will. He knows exactly where it will be…right where she fell over the rail and to her death, thirty-three stories below. Nephele gives him a sympathetic look as he walks away, and Ciro almost returns it before he realizes what he’s doing.

Fuck this! He marches out into the hallway and through the double doors that signal the entrance to his father’s quarters. The rest of this level is mostly office space—half of it empty, bastard, there was no reason to get rid of the shrine—and the very top of the atrium, a square space vaguely illuminated through skylights during the day but as black as night now. Lights set in the floor provide an orange glow as Ciro walks to the far side of the atrium, where sure enough he finds his mother’s funeral tablet actually set within the wall itself, both a hideous mockery of her customs and a testament to his father’s inability to let go.

Ciro gets on his knees before it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I have no incense, but…” He reaches for his raven and removes one feather, then lights the tip of it on fire. The smoke curls up, blue and scented like ylang ylang, his mother’s favorite top note when it came to perfumes. “There.” He sets it down in the dirt of the flower pot beside the tablet, and a curious sense of comfort fills him.

“I know you’re disappointed that I’m back,” he says quietly. “I’m disappointed in myself.” The air almost tightens around him, like a hug. Ciro isn’t sure if its his magic pretending to be her or a remnant of his mother, but either way he’s got to smile. “I know, I’ll stop. But I promise I won’t be here long.” His raven flaps its wings a few times in agreement. Just as Ciro begins to bow, he sees a rat scurrying toward him out of the corner of his eye. Can he get no privacy whatso-fucking-ever in this damn tower? He turns to shout at Nephele, but—

The rat is there one minute, airborne the next. It lets out a pathetic squeak as it flies over the banister and down, down, down until there’s a distant splash into the fountain below.

Ciro bows and stays down for a long moment. “Thank you, Mom.” He bites his lip before he whispers, “I’ll bring you with me if I can. I love you.” Then he straightens up and presses his fingers to the inscription of her name. “Say hi to Joy for me.”