Chapter Six

"I got the impression that meeting was a colossal waste of time, but I'm sensing through our bond, there were a lot of subtexts I missed?" Dixon licked up his ice cone. The air was still chilly, and after their own car came to pick them up, Benedict suggested Dixon get a chance to see the town of Scarborough. Apparently, Benedict wanted an ice cream.

The town was big, sprawled along the coast the way it was, and yet retained its historic charm. They wandered slowly along the beachfront, ostensibly looking for fishing boats, although Dixon reasoned if they were working boats, they weren't going to catch anything in the harbor, so there wasn't a lot to see in the middle of the day. But seeing Benedict with his face turned to the sea breeze, licking his own cone, was enjoyment enough.

"I always knew this business with the Council was going to be a multi-level approach," Benedict explained as they wandered along the wide path. "When I said back at the house about finding out what the council wanted with us, I meant I would make a call, as a courtesy to show I wasn't evading them, letting them know I was in the country, and to arrange a specific appointment time."

Dixon frowned. "I'm fairly sure you didn't make a call when we got back to the house. We'd barely finished breakfast and a driver was knocking at the door demanding you get into a car with him."

"I know. Which means someone else, either connected with the house, the plane, or possibly the air strip, let the local Council know I was here. There are seers employed by the Magical Council, so it's possible they found out their information that way, but that's not important for now."

The idea that someone in Benedict's English home was spying on them was freaking important in Dixon's eyes, but Benedict hadn't finished speaking.

"And yes, you were right, I did learn a lot from that annoying encounter." Benedict grinned. "Bringing Charles in was a big mistake. If they thought seeing him would rattle me, well, yes it did. But that's more because I thought that encounter would happen in London and his approach would be a lot more subtle."

"Bringing him to Yorkshire was the mistake? That man is a mistake, period. I can't believe you dated him." Dixon growled just thinking about it.

But Benedict's smile didn't waver. "I don't think either one of us should discuss the dating history we had before we met unless we have to, do you?"

Oops. Good point . No. The memory of Paul was still too fresh. "Okay, so Charles was a mistake, but who made it? Who was behind today's fiasco? That buffoon in the office wouldn't even give you his name."

"No, which was my second clue this wasn't a Council mandated meeting. If today's appointment had been under Council's orders, as my interrogator tried to make out, and badly I might add, then he would've been happy to state his name for the record. Magic users like to get credit for their part in investigations. It helps them justify their huge pay packets."

Dixon was starting to think breathing the English air had rattled Benedict's brain. "I don't understand why you're so calm about all this. You're telling me that idiot back there pulled you into the office under false pretenses, sending a car for us and all that shit? We don't even know who that person was."

"I do, or rather I should say, I do now. The man who needs to learn a lot more about interrogation techniques was Frank Benchmark. He has no society title, and his magical specialty is herbology. He's the manager of the Yorkshire Magical Council office. As soon as I realized what his name was, I knew the other man with him was his son, Lathan. For context, Lathan is a minor warlock with healing skills who doesn't work at the Ministry office. He was probably roped in to make the meeting look more official."

"I'm still missing parts of the story here." Dixon licked up the remains of his ice cream. It was very creamy and tasted of honey. He popped the last of the cone in his mouth, enjoying the crunch and wiped his fingers with the remains of the tissue paper it had been wrapped in. Confident his fingers were as clean as they were going to be, he tucked the tissue paper in his pocket to dispose of later and wrapped his hand around Benedict's elbow. "If you knew all that, why did you ask for him to introduce himself? Come on. Pretend I haven't got a clue what's going on, because I truly don't, and fill in the gaps for me."

"For most of the meeting, I wasn't sure what was going on either," Benedict said, taking in a long breath. "I'm not sure if Frank thought I would just sit down and spill my guts over goodness knows what the moment I saw his face or was faced with his authoritative persona.

"Remember, no one from the Council has seen me for ten years, so who knows what they were thinking. Frank and I hadn't met before, and I have no wish to repeat the experience today, even though I have no quarrel with him. But what I said, or implied at the end of our meeting, was the truth. That fumbled meeting we just suffered through had nothing to do with the Council's business at all. Our gullible friend Frank was being used by someone else – someone whose only goal was to get their sticky fingers on the Dule estate by any means possible."

"Someone in your extended family, you mean?"

Benedict nodded. "My neighboring uncle, Hugo Dule, who I mentioned in passing earlier this morning. I wasn't certain until Frank picked up that letter, but I was able to skim read the bulk of it as he held it up."

"The text wasn't facing our direction."

"I know." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows. "But I read it anyway, and yes it was from my uncle. The reason the truth spell I reminded Frank about didn't kick in was because Frank believed the words he was reading, therefore he wasn't lying to me. Likewise, as my uncle wasn't there, the truth or not of his written words wouldn't have been caught by the spell.

"It's a workaround that has been used by magic users for centuries. If they write a letter of complaint about someone or something, the magic in the Council buildings can't tell if any of the words are lies. That is likely how Uncle Hugo got Frank to agree to interviewing me in the first place – by letter."

Dixon quickly joined the dots. "So, are we visiting your uncle on our way back to the estate this afternoon? Pay him a friendly family visit and warn him to back the fuck off?"

"No, we won't need to. Frank would've been on the phone before we'd left the building. I'm sure you could scent he was not happy he was being used, and Frank does have some power in his position working for the Council. But dear Uncle Hugo will be equally displeased because he probably expected me to be locked up as soon as our plane landed last night.

"You can be sure he'll be visiting this afternoon to let me know what a fuckup I am, and he will likely try and gain more ammunition to fuel his case against me with the Magical Council in London. He's after the title that goes with my estate, too, which is why he wants to see me go to jail for something. He's not fussy about what that charge might be, so long as it sticks."

"This Uncle Hugo. Is he the one who told you to your face that it was your fault your family died?" Dixon was guessing, but Benedict nodded. "Can I hurt him?" Dixon was more than ready to show Hugo Dule why bear shifters should never be underestimated.

But Benedict shook his head. "Sorry, no. There is a British expression about taking things on the chin and that is what we'll have to do this afternoon. Until we know what the Council's end game is, we can't go hurting anyone, no matter how much we might like to. Instead, we will have to be polite, greet my uncle as though his visit is a regular friendly event, and at least pretend to listen to the extent of his outlandish ideas once he arrives. From the few memories of him I have from when I was younger, and he was still meeting up with my father on the odd occasion, he's not backward about coming forward."

Benedict breathed in deeply, taking in the sea air and Dixon hoped it would calm him in some way. "This is such a lovely place, but I don't miss it at all." Benedict pointed down the beach. "My parents brought us here every summer, just so we could play in the sea.

"The ice cream shop we visited today is run by the same family that ran the small ice cart my father used to get our confectionary from in the afternoons when I was a kid, and as we got older and the technologies improved, he would stop in and get a huge order of fried fish that was always freshly caught that day and hot chips doused in vinegar, to eat on the trip home. All that crispy fried goodness would be wrapped in newspaper. They were fun summer days, back when life was so simple."

"Thank you for sharing that memory with me." Not caring what anyone else thought, or that they could be seen, Dixon pulled Benedict into his arms. "This whole business is like a torture of a thousand cuts for you, isn't it?"

"Feels a bit that way, yes." Benedict relaxed against his chest.

"Why… when there were no charges brought against you, and the Council investigated you when your family was killed… why does your uncle still think you're responsible? I hate harping on about the same thing, but that seriously doesn't make sense to me. If the Council didn't charge you, then surely as another magic user himself, Uncle Hugo would know what happened to your family wasn't your fault."

"It's all to do with magic, I suppose." Benedict sighed as he looked out to sea. "My uncle never had much in the way of magical power, or political influence among magic users, but he had money. My father was the one with the title and the powers, plus he had a happy family life. They were all things my uncle wanted but could never seem to hang on to. Hugo's on his third or fourth wife, last I heard, whereas my mom and dad were Fated."

"But to blame you and to keep that vendetta going for so long…" Dixon couldn't fathom how anyone could hold a grudge for years, let alone a decade or more.

Benedict must've picked up his thoughts, because he stroked a hand up the side of Dixon's face. "I'm over a hundred and twenty years old," he said, his voice low. "My uncle has hated me since birth. He resented my father, yes, but that was just sibling rivalry. When I came along and my parents didn't put me out on the streets the way he expected, my uncle was pissed, swearing black and blue that my presence would bring bad luck to the family. When they died…"

"He blamed you because he couldn't see past his own hatred of what you can do. Oh, babe, I'm so sorry you've had to carry all this alone for so long." Dixon could feel how badly his bear wanted to cuddle Benedict up in a mythical den somewhere and hold him close until he smiled again.

"Oi, get a room," someone yelled from a car as it passed them.

"Someone in town has some good ideas." Benedict smirked. "Let's go and find a room."