Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Twenty-Six

 Notes: Dun-dun-DUUUUUUNNNNN!!!!

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Twenty-Six

***

Chapter Twenty-Six

 

 

Photo by Mauro Lima

It isn’t getting any easier to say goodbye to Angelo, but Ciro thinks he does a decent job of it the next morning. He makes the coffee, even throws together a quick breakfast burrito from the plethora of ingredients Angelo’s stocked the place with that he can eat on the road. When he kisses him at the door, his hands don’t shake; when he hugs him, his breath doesn’t tremble in his lungs. The Machados aren’t pushovers, but neither is Angelo. He’ll be back soon, and until he’s back Ciro will be with Annette, delighting in her company and learning things he probably should have cottoned onto a long time ago but never did. He’s got a few theories as to why he never learned these things before, when they could have been so useful.

It's always best for the person on top to keep the workforce dependent, after all. Better to make Ciro hoard his magic like a dragon for his father’s use than realize he doesn’t actually have to run out of it. That, in fact, it might be impossible to run out of it, as long as he doesn’t exhaust himself. It’s a heady thought, and one he plans to investigate further with Annette today. But for now…

“Drive safe, kick ass, come back soon.”

Angelo grins. “Don’t worry, baby. The Machados don’t scare me.”

“A rampaging gorilla familiar doesn’t scare you,” Ciro scoffs. “I think it’s safe to say that nothing does.”

The light in Angelo’s eyes dims a little. He doesn’t say anything, but they both know what he’s thinking. I scare him. I scare him all the time. Ciro’s trying to stop, though. He’s trying to be better. He’s committed to being better—no more running from the people he loved. No more looking for excuses to be at his worst when he could be fighting to be at his best instead. He’s going to make this work. He’s not going to run anymore.

Ciro leans in for a kiss, going for demanding but veering more into swooning territory when Angelo weaves his fingers into Ciro’s hair and tilts his head just the way he wants it, coaxing his lips to part and breathing him in like Ciro is his own personal source of oxygen. It’s a little ridiculous; Ciro had Angelo literally inside of him less than twelve hours ago, and now he wants him again. A little food, a little care, and all of a sudden his body is picking up on the fact that it’s okay to have a libido and, in fact, someone actually likes it. Ciro would go to his knees right now to satisfy the heat rising inside of him. He starts to, before Angelo shakes his head and pulls him back upright.

“Save it for me,” he says instead, the curve of his mouth a little wicked. “Don’t touch yourself until I get back.”

Ooh boy, a day of celibacy, so hard…and yet there goes Ciro’s nascent plan to jerk off in the shower the second Angelo’s car pulls away. “Bastard.”

“Call me whatever you want, just be here and waiting for me when I get back.”

“I will be,” Ciro promises, and that’s finally enough to get Angelo moving out the door. He drives off into the pale, washed-out light of the early morning, and Ciro watches him until he can’t see the car anymore, then heads back into the kitchen. He’ll get some French toast started for Annette. It’s her favorite, if he remembers right…and he’s even got some oranges he can juice for the syrup, plus some zest to go in the batter.

It takes longer than he expects for Annette to finally knock. The coffee has long since gone cold, and the French toast is piled on a plate in the oven to keep it warm, but it’ll still taste good. Ciro goes over to the door, opens it, and—

It’s Annette, and she’s clearly scared out of her mind. Her hands are up in the air, and she’s got just one cat with her, the biggest of her orange familiars, coiled around her neck like a scarf and purring in an effort to comfort her. And behind her is… “Maria?”

“Hey, Ciro!” Maria waves the hand that isn’t holding a gun on Annette at him. “Man, such a crazy world, isn’t it? I was on my way to see you when I caught sight of this pretty lady hiking up the hill, and I thought, ‘Huh, there’s something about her. Where have I seen her before?’ It didn’t take too long to figure it out.” She prodded Annette in the back with the barrel. “When you surface, you don’t do it by halves, huh lover? Bringing your old girlfriend back from the dead, too—pretty impressive.”

Lover…what the fuck?

“How about you let me in this time, babe,” Maria continues. “Or, I guess we could have it out on the porch, not like anybody’s around to hear us up here, but I don’t want to be disrespectful to your girlie’s corpse, you know? Better she go down in there, where the rats can’t eat her face off, than out here.”

“Ciro,” Annette whispers, fear and desperation plain in her voice.

“Ah-ah,” Maria says sternly. “No talking, that’s one of the rules. I didn’t say you could speak to him with your filthy mouth.” And she raises her the gun in her hand and hits Annette across the back of the head with it.

“Fuck!” Ciro jumps forward and catches her as she collapses with a groan, hauling her inside. Maria follows insouciantly, a look of perverse interest on her face as she glances around Angelo’s family home.

“Pretty,” she comments. “Kind of weird, but pretty. I like the lights. They look like antiques.” She grins. “No one will be surprised that lights like that could burn a house down.”

Ciro does his best to ignore the awful things she’s saying as he carries Annette over to the couch and lays her down. Her cat settles on her chest, a growl rumbling in its throat, and it never takes its eyes off Maria.

“Who even knew Angleo had this kind of deception in him?” the young woman goes on, like she’s not talking about her own boss, the person she’s supposed to be close friends with as well. “To be able to hide this for as long as he has, especially with all the scrutiny he’s been under lately—that takes guts, man. Real guts. I’m looking forward to ripping him open and seeing them for myself.” She giggles.

It’s the giggle that cinches it. Everything about this has felt incredibly wrong, like Ciro is talking with a doppelganger of some kind, but real doppelgangers are incredibly rare magical beings. And there’s no doubt in his mind that whoever he’s dealing with right now, it’s not the real Maria. It’s not a construct; the way she moves and holds herself is completely human, as far as he can tell. This isn’t some enchanted homunculus running around with Maria’s face on it. This is something else entirely.

“Nephele.”

His cousin claps with exaggerated appreciation. “Aw, there you go, lover! I knew you’d get it eventually! Thought it would be sooner, frankly, but you’ve never been the smartest Hambly, have you? My side’s the one that got all the smarts, although—” She shrugs. “I’m willing to admit that your side got the looks. Your mom was good for that much.”

The painful insult slides right off the panic already fizzing to the surface of Ciro’s mind. Nephele found him. She knows that Angelo’s helping him. She knows where he is, she’s inside of Maria, she knows about Annette. It’s the worst possible thing, with one exception—she’s not here herself. She’s riding Maria somehow, maybe driving one of her familiars into the poor girl’s skull like Ciro did with Uncle Magnus.

Does that mean she could wipe Maria’s mind the way Ciro fears he did with his uncle? He can’t let that happen. Apart from the fact that she doesn’t remotely deserve that kind of shit, it would destroy Angelo. And Annette…he’s got to save her.

Just as his first raven begins to move, Maria raises her gun and fires.

The bird shatters, and Ciro collapses to the ground.

Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Twelve, Part Two

 Notes: We're ramping up to our next action sequence, yay! First things first, though--have some fraught conversation between people who have no idea how to interact.

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Twelve, Part Two

***

Chapter Twelve, Part Two

 

 

Photo by Louis Galvez on Unsplash

 

Kieron didn’t know what he expected when they got back to Carlisle’s rooms, but it wasn’t to be dumped on the couch instead of the floor. His coordination wasn’t good enough to even attempt escaping yet, but she didn’t slap cuffs on him either, just rolled him over onto his front and applied something cold to the spot on his back where the pain-pack locked in.

“What the fuck happened in there?” she muttered in a low voice to him as she worked the ice over his knotted muscles, gradually reducing the swelling that was keeping them tense. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Mmph.”

“Shut up, I’m talking.” She pressed extra hard into a specific spot on his lower back, and Kieron grunted with pain, then gradually relaxed into it. Battle massage. Part pressure-point focused, part shiatsu, it was a sensation that Kieron hadn’t felt since he last lived here. It was…actually kind of soothing. Elanus had tried buying a few massages for him since they got together, but Kieron couldn’t relax with a stranger putting their hands on him. Machines didn’t have the same effect, and massages with Elanus tended to turn toward the erotic more than the relaxing.

“That was the worst possible place you could have revealed yourself,” she went on. “The General is guarded too closely for you to pull off an assassination. You should have fired on the compound from orbit if you wanted to take him out.”

“Din’t…”

“That’s a lie, you very clearly do intend to kill him.” She pressed in with a nail, and this time the feeling wasn’t soothing. It was pure pain. “Did you think I’d let you get away with it? How stupid are you, Zakari? Where’s the cutthroat negotiator who held Doubles over a gator pit to get his way, huh?”

“I…didn’t…come here for that,” Kieron gritted out, finally jerking away from Carlisle’s touch.

“Bullshit.”

“You fired…on us first.”

“And I wish we’d grounded you with the first shot,” she snapped, letting go of him and pushing to her feet. She still didn’t cuff him, though; she started to pace instead, her movements brisk and furious. “That way I’d have the evidence I need to pull apart your story without having to literally pull you apart. I don’t—I don’t want to—” She stopped, her hands clasping the sides of her head, eyes manic.

“I don’t want to know you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to know anything about you. I don’t want you to be here, you don’t belong here, I pushed you away for a reason.”

Oh, shit.

“You were supposed to be gone forever.”

Oh, shit.

“You were supposed to leave and be safe! You’re not supposed to be here! God damn it, you’re never supposed to be here again!” Carlisle spun around, grabbing the stunner at her waist, and pointed it at Kieron, her eyes wide and her breathing shallow and unsettled.

Whoa, whoa! “Don’t fire,” Kieron said, forcing the words out his mostly numb lips. “Don’t fire.” He couldn’t take another burst from the pain-pack right now.

“You—you can’t—”

Damn, she was panicking and Kieron was still too wrecked to fight her for the stunner. He had two options—he could deny what she was saying and hope she calmed down enough not to shoot him, or he could…well. He could confirm it. He could tell her that her worst fears had come true and that her son, her only child as far as he knew, was back on Hadrian’s Colony after she’d gone to such incredible lengths to get him away. Safe. Ha. Kieron wouldn’t say he’d ended up in a safe environment, and yet…

“It’s okay.” He kept his voice soft. He had to approach this like he was talking to someone he cared about. Someone he loved. He didn’t love his mother; he had never loved her, and she hadn’t done anything since he’d been taken captive to incline him otherwise. But Carlisle, a person who was accustomed to being in control of herself and the dangerous situation she was living in, had been thrown out of her comfort zone thanks to Kieron’s excessive actions. He was responsible for that, which meant he was responsible for her.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said again. “Deep breaths, all right?” He stretched a hand out toward her—not to touch her, but to give her something to focus on other than her body. “Take some deep breaths. You can do it.”

Carlisle didn’t waste any more time stammering, just tried to do as Kieron directed her. She was good, he had to admit it; if anyone knew how to handle a panic attack, it stood to reason it would be the daughter of one of the most genuinely revolting people Kieron had ever known in his life. He’d met some genuine, narcissistic sociopaths on Gania, terrible xenophobes on Trakta, and too many hopeless drifters on Cloverleaf Station, people whose eyes were clouded with the knowledge that they were on their last run. None of those people made Kieron as fearful as his grandfather.

If only he’d been properly prepared to kill the man. If only he’d been mentally ready to hold back. It was too late for regrets, though; he had to deal with things as they were now, and right now he needed Carlisle to be calm so they could talk things through.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Please, sit down.” He gestured to the table between them. “I won’t go anywhere. We’ll figure something out.” There was always another way out. If his time with Elanus had taught him anything, it was that. Of course, for Elanus that often meant throwing around money or tech like it was nothing, and that wouldn’t work here. But it wasn’t hopeless, even now.

Carlisle sat, but her eyes were wet and her hands trembling. She didn’t quite look at him, more past him when she said, “I never wanted to see you again.”

That hurt in a way Kieron didn’t expect. It was stupid; he knew she didn’t mean it the way she was saying it. Context was enough for him to glean that she intended for him to escape from this hellhole and never come back, even if it meant them never seeing each other again. She meant it for his benefit. But the thought of saying that to one of his beautiful girls, so sweet and earnest and genuine in their love for him, was simply impossible. He could never leave Catie or Lizzie with words like that.

Realizing that made the pain he felt melt into pity, because it was clear that Carlisle had no idea how to be a parent. Kieron didn’t know anything about his real father, and he barely remembered most of his childhood, but this woman had only ever been a title to him. He was going to do better for his kids, which meant getting out of here and back to them as soon as possible.

“I never expected to see you again either,” he said as kindly as he could. “But here we are. Now, let’s figure out how we’re going to get out of here.”

Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Twenty-Five

 Notes: Have a pleasant lull before a wicked storm, babes!

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Twenty-Five

***

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

In the end, Ciro manages four birds. Each one is painful to manifest, like pulling a length of intestine through a hole in his stomach, but he feels so much better to have them back. Four is a comfortable flock; four is enough to keep reserves in check while having a decent level of power at hand. Four is easier to hide than the dozen, or score, or however many Ciro has living out in the desert right now.

He can tell that Angelo and Annette are curious about the number of birds in his flock. He knows they want to ask, but they don’t and he’s grateful for the reprieve. Honestly, he doesn’t know how many birds he has anymore. He stopped keeping track of his power that closely once he broke free from his family home. Back there, the day he left, he had fifty-three birds wreaking havoc on his behalf. Now, he has the feeling he could have a lot more.

It's not a bad thing. If anything, it’s verification that all of the stuff Annette has been talking about, the growth of internal power and how things change. He knows he could talk it through with them and it would be fine. They’ll support him. They’ll help him come up with ways to manage his power, maybe even a way to hide all of his power inside of him and walk around like a normal human being.

The thought of it makes him shiver. If he had no power outside of his body, if there was nothing to surveil except Ciro himself, if he could mask his body and his magical signature without having to worry about being powerless…it would be so much more possible to hide. It might even be easy. What if he got a decent glamour from one of the fae, or a witch who specialized in that sort of magic? What if he could blend in so well that he could stay with Angelo, help out in his clinic, and never even be suspected?

“You look tired.”

Ciro glances over at Angelo, just back from taking Annette to the hotel. They’ve already decided that it’s best if she doesn’t stay here overnight; apart from the fact that someone would have to sleep on the couch (and it wouldn’t be Annette, Ciro is determined about that) he also isn’t comfortable with her being in close proximity to him for an extended period of time. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Angelo when it comes to the safety of this place, he just…

“Yeah.”

He’s just tired. And worried. And a mess, and he doesn’t want that to rub off on Annette any more than it already has. Annette has dealt with too much shit thanks to his family. Knowing that she doesn’t blame Ciro for the actions of the rest of his clan is a blessing he doesn’t really deserve, so the least he can do is not compound it.

Angelo sits down next to him tugs at his shoulders. Ciro goes, bemusedly, and finds his head cradled down in Angelo’s lap. Strong, blunt fingers find their way into his hair and start to scratch, and Ciro thinks he could be forgiven for the sound that comes out of his mouth. Something between a whimper and a groan, and it’s embarrassing but it makes Angelo laugh and scratch harder, so he can’t regret it.

“You’re just like that little kitten,” Angelo says, “all snuggly and warm and—whoa!”

Ciro doesn’t have to look to know that three of his birds have just landed on Angelo, one on each shoulder and another on top of his head.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it! Don’t peck me again,” Angelo says with a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he’s like a bird. A very sweet, cuddly bird who is my absolute favorite in all ways.”

“That’s more like it,” Ciro says, closing his eyes. He’s tired but right now, in the moment, he’s also the happiest he can remember being for a very long time. Not the relieved, desperate happiness that he felt when he saw Annette, or the wary pleasure of seeing Angelo again for the first time, but an easy, comfortable sense of happiness instead. It’s the sort of happiness he’s only ever felt with his mother before, and even then it was fleetingly rare.

It's dangerous, because he could see himself getting used to this. He wants to get used to this; he’d love to be able to settle in to a state of everyday joy with Angelo. He’d love to be a permanent presence in his life, to find new ways to use his magic that were about helping people instead of finding out their darkest secrets, to help Angelo heal instead of tear things down. And maybe…just maybe…

“What did Maria have to say?” he asks groggily as the memory of her visit surfaces.

“Apparently the Machados came to the clinic,” Angelo says, citing the name of one of the larger magical cartels in the city. “They started pushing her on some things, making a few threats. I guess when she couldn’t raise me on the phone she had a bit of a panic attack and drove out here.”

Ciro sighs. “Have the Machados been a problem for you before?”

“No, they haven’t,” Angelo replies, and he sounds disturbed by the fact. “I don’t know if they realized I was gone and decided to throw their weight around or if this has been building for a while and I just didn’t know it, but it surprises me. And I can’t leave Maria to handle it by herself.”

Tension slowly builds back in Ciro’s shoulders. “You have to go back.”

“Not permanently,” Angelo assures him. “Just long enough to handle this, then I’ll return. No more than another day.”

Ciro bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to offer to go with Angelo. He wants to offer to leave. He wants to tell him that he’s sorry again, that he missed him when he was off getting Annette and he doesn’t want him to leave again for purely selfish reasons.

He doesn’t do any of those things. Ciro’s not helpless, and he’s not selfish enough to force Angelo to stay with him when he’s got a business to run and friends to help. Ciro’s not more important than that.

“It’s fine,” Ciro says. “I’ll be able to see Annette. Are you going to get her in the morning, or…”

“I’ll offer, but she mentioned wanting to get some hikes in while she’s here. She might just get a rideshare to the bottom of the hill and walk up.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the side of Ciro’s head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I know.” Feeling a bit mischievous, Ciro rolls over so his lips are brushing against Angelo’s groin. The hand in his hair tightens, and Angelo’s breath hitches in a way that gets Ciro’s blood pumping. “Why don’t you put that grip to good use?” he murmurs as he mouths over the outline of Angelo’s cock.

“Good idea,” Angelo says breathlessly, and the rest of the night passes without any more doubts or worry.