Chapter Nineteen

"Gordon just messaged and said he and Monica are already at your aunt's," Dixon said, looking up from his phone. "He wondered how far away we were."

"Five minutes." Benedict mentally sighed and made a forceful effort to improve his mood as he handled the car along the narrow road. To say he did not want to go to dinner with his family was an understatement. Dixon's idea to rent a car, rather than get someone to pick them up from the airport, was inspired. It means we can leave whenever we want. "It'll be good to see him and Monica again."

Dixon's phone chimed and he frowned. "Gordon says there's more people there than he expected. I think he's looking for some moral support."

Benedict sighed out loud this time. "That will be because of Aunt Silvia. She would've told everyone the Necromancer was coming to dinner, and anyone within driving distance would've immediately chimed in to say they'd be coming."

Dixon's glance was more side-eyed this time. "They probably miss you after all those years away."

Chuckling, Benedict shook his head. "That would be a big fat no to that one. The family would've probably been there before our plane landed, helping Aunt Silvia ward her house against the black magic vibes I apparently shed like cat hair."

"Please tell me you're kidding." Dixon looked horrified, and while Benedict appreciated the support, he wasn't about to lie to his mate.

"Necromancers are very rare," he said quietly. "Put frankly, no one knew what to do with me. I didn't look like any of my other family members. I didn't act like them, in that I came into my powers pretty much from birth instead of puberty. I was an anomaly who talks to dead people when most of my extended family are hedge witches, herbologists, or people like Monica who has an affinity with a particular element such as air, fire, or water. It wasn't so bad growing up because my immediate family had always lived in York. Aunt Silvia, who is my mother's sister, her family has their roots down here in Cornwall. Family reunions weren't really a thing, so I didn't have a lot to do with any of them over the years."

"Then why did we even come, if they feel like that about you?"

"Because it's a bit late to back out now?" Benedict swung the car into the narrow tree-lined driveway. "You already told Gordon we were coming."

There was a wide gravel area in front of the large house already hosting about ten cars. Benedict swung their rental into a spot on the edge, turning the car around so if he wanted to make a quick getaway he could. "They're just people," he muttered to himself as he turned off the car engine.

"Who are you trying to convince?" Dixon leaned over, giving Benedict a hug. Of course, his bear would've heard him.

"I think I've got an idea of a new area of study for Monica." Benedict rested his head on Dixon's shoulder, covered rather magnificently by a suit jacket. They had both dressed up for the occasion. "She could find out why, a hundred-plus-year-old Necromancer, feels like he's twenty again and meeting his extended family for the first time, just by sitting outside the house."

"I felt like a cub again when I heard my mom's voice at the Tower. Memories do that to us."

"Oh gods, I haven't even asked you…" That made Benedict feel even more selfish. "We haven't even talked about that yet… how that must've felt for you, you know… seeing them the way you did."

"We have the rest of our lives together to talk about all the things we're missing now," Dixon reminded him, brushing a kiss against Benedict's hair that he could feel right down to his toes. "When we get back to the States I think I'd be okay if we could have a ghostly luncheon if you're up to it. My mom, dad, and Emma can all attend. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like the least I could do given what you're about to endure on my behalf. Just don't take your ring off while you're here, please. Some of my cousins think they're a lot better with ward setting than they actually are. Oh gods, she just had to yell." Benedict straightened up as he heard a high pitched voice yell his name. "Monica used to do that every single time she saw me from when I was about six years old."

"Benny!" Monica's face appeared at the window. "What are you doing sitting in there? People are waiting for you." His driver's door was wrenched open, and Benedict suddenly had a lap full of cousin wearing a frothy black lacey dress.

"Who are you and what have you done with my cousin? You're wearing a dress." Benedict leaned back warily as Monica grinned.

"It's mated life. It's so exhilarating." Monica beamed. "Bear, you're looking really good, too. But you need to get your butts into the house. Gordon is freaking out a bit, I think. He'll be so glad to have another shifter in the room."

"Monica, the company all has their clothes on, don't they?" It was a serious question.

"Yes. Yes. Mom has made an effort, seeing as we barely see you, so everyone, even Dougal, dressed up nicely. Now come on." She scrambled off his lap and ran back to the house, and her poor mate.

Do we have a code word? Benedict heard Dixon's question as they both got out of the car.

Code word? What for?

For when you've had enough and want to leave.

Benedict smiled, reaching for Dixon's hand. "You do look incredibly handsome this evening, my mate, and as for code words, we won't need one. You'll just see my ass as I'm leaving the room."

"I'm already committed to following your delicious ass, so I'll be right behind you."

/~/~/~/~/

"Who are all these people?" Dixon muttered to Gordon who was standing in the corner of a large room nursing a whiskey glass. Monica was right. Gordon's eyes were a little wide.

"Cousins, second cousins, aunts, uncles, you name it, they turned up." Gordon grimaced. "Monica's mom has been in panic mode for the past hour, cooking up a storm to feed everyone."

"I don't know why they bothered." Dixon couldn't believe what he was seeing. Benedict had tried to explain about some of the more important members of the family on the plane – Aunt Silvia's husband Douglas, Monica's sister Penny, and a few others who would probably show up, but until that moment, Dixon realized the words just didn't convey the weird.

The room was filled wall-to-wall with magic users and the scent of magic and hostility punched Dixon's nose, so he could only imagine how Gordon was feeling. He was used to the subtle undertones of magic in Benedict's scent – he even enjoyed it. But being around so many magic users was like being dunked in a huge bowl of potpourri. Angry magic users.

Dixon looked around for his mate, who was standing among a group of people, something Dixon expected. Benedict's family hadn't seen their relative for ten years. But something about the way Benedict was standing raised the hairs on the back of Dixon's neck. He was alone. Isolated in a semi-circle of people. Everyone else was standing shoulder to shoulder. There was no sign of Monica who'd dragged Benedict off the moment they'd entered the house. Benedict's shuttered expression as he was listening to one person standing near him tugged at Dixon's heart and protective instincts.

"B said it would be bad, but I genuinely thought he was exaggerating," Dixon muttered to Gordon.

"You should've heard what was being said before you two arrived. Monica tried to shrug it off as though her relatives were joking, but clearly she was being optimistic. Look, Dixon, I've got some of that info on the late Dule you wanted, but I don't think it would be a good idea to discuss that here. And I'm thinking this doesn't look or feel like a hospitable environment for your mate. Did you want to go and eat somewhere else?"

"You'd better believe I do. I can't believe this shit and I'm seeing it with my own eyes." Dixon huffed. "Grab Monica and meet us at the car. I'll rescue Benedict."

Although his first instinct was to rush across the room, Dixon slowed his steps, straining his ears to hear what was being said to his mate. There was one guy who seemed to be doing most of the talking.

"…audacity to show your face here."

"I was invited."

"Everyone knows you're a common murderer. You killed your family. Why hasn't the Magical Council done something about this? Do they even know you're in the country?"

"I've been to both the London and York Council offices, so yes, I assume they do."

"You might've pulled the wool over their eyes, but you can't fool family. There's always been something dark about you. You've never been normal. How else could a whole house explode if it wasn't for your black magic?"

Dixon didn't know what hurt more – the fact Benedict had to hear such rubbish or how the people standing around the guy, who clearly loved the sound of his own voice, were all nodding their head in agreement.

"Is this what passes for polite pre-dinner conversation these days?" Dixon asked, coming up beside Benedict and wrapping his arm around his mate's waist.

The man who'd been speaking looked down his nose at Dixon even though he had to look up to do it. Dixon was a good foot taller than the big mouth. "You're just another example of how not-normal the Necromancer is. If Benny was any decent magic user, the Fates would've paired him with someone of his own kind. Instead he got an animal. Don't you worry he's going to kill you and skin you as part of one of his ritual sacrifices?"

"Is this hazing?" Dixon asked his mate, as Benedict's anger blossomed through their bond. "Is this what they do with all the new guys, or are we just special?"

"Oh, it's not hazing. This is Percival showing his true colors. And for your information, Percy, Dixon is perfect for me. He gives me the strength to do something I should've done a long time ago."

"What? Turn up in a fancy suit and think we'll forget that you're a murderer?" Percy sneered.

"No. This." Stepping forward, Benedict cocked his arm, and smashed the annoying man in the face with his fist. Percy flailed and fell, and Dixon thought it was interesting no one tried to intervene. Leaning over the prone man who was gasping like a fish out of water, Benedict said, "The next time you try and get me arrested, just so you and your dad can get your grubby little fingers on my estate and title, remember I know where your skeletons are buried, and our dearly departed love to gossip."

He straightened and Dixon had never been so proud as when Benedict said loudly, "The same applies to the rest of you. The only reason my presence bothers you is because you have some ridiculous idea that all I do all day is sit around gossiping with our dead relatives, learning all your dirty secrets. Well, guess what? I already know them. I just chose to keep my mouth shut about them because I was raised in love."

He slapped his chest. "I know my family loved me. I feel that deep in here every day. I still carry the grief every day over their loss. Back then, you all scorned me, blamed me, and tried to make me a scapegoat. I left because I saw no support from the people who should've been there for me.

"That was ten years ago. Ten years. I came here tonight to try to learn more about them, to hear your stories about them, your memories. I wanted the chance to talk about my loved ones with people who knew them and loved them, too. But no. You're still living in the past, still too scared to see past magic potions and elemental magic to think there might be something else, still too ignorant you don't understand the gift a Necromancer's powers can be."

Dixon hoped he was the only one who heard Benedict's shaky inhale. "I'm ashamed of you all. I'm ashamed of sharing your surname. I was hoping if you couldn't be civil to me, you would still make my mate feel welcome. Instead you've filled a room with so much magic, our shifter mates are suffering. Yet at the same time, you have the gall to think it's funny to suggest I mated my man to hold as a sacrificial lamb for my black magic rituals. Did you think that was a joke to me?

"Who the hell are you and what did you do to your brains? I've put up with this crap for decades because my mom and dad taught me all family was important. But my family is gone, and you never saw past me and wondered why. You never questioned the Council, never raised calls for justice against the people who murdered my family. No. Because you thought I did it. I didn't, and that means the murderers have spent ten years free when they could've been behind bars, but still, you don't care. If my truth doesn't fit your narrative, you ignore it, just like always."

Benedict's voice lowered. "None of that matters anymore because what you did tonight was the final straw. I don't want to see any of you again, and you might want to talk among yourselves about what that means. I'm still the Lord Dule, the only Lord Dule, and I'm not giving that up for anyone, especially you lot. So the next time you need a favor from me regarding authorities, in my position as the ruling member of this family line, you might want to think about what you did tonight. I know I will be."

Benedict reached out his hand, and Dixon took it, holding tight. Dixon was sure someone would say something – would speak up, apologize, even tell Benedict he was wrong. But the room remained silent as Benedict and Dixon turned and left the house. Dixon could feel it, the moment Benedict's heart shattered, and he barely got his mate back to the car before Benedict started to cry.

"One of you two can drive," Dixon said to Gordon and Monica, who were looking worried. "We need steak and whiskey, lots of it."