15. Into the Underhill

The following week was quiet. Eroch was awake, at last, after what felt like years of sleeping but really was only a matter of several days.

Things had been quiet, on all fronts—Mansion, Tower, Beacon Hill, Milly's place—and nothing had happened with the High Council.

Five days of quiet, aside from training his new apprentice on beginners' techniques like grounding and getting a feel for his magic, which Rael excelled at, and giving him confidence that he would eventually control his magic on his own. Every morning Rael got up and approached his lessons with a dedication Angel rarely saw in his regular tutoring students, and that matched Daniel in his own apprenticeship days.

The only excitement in those handful of days was the pictures from Daniel showing impressive natural vistas and a lot of artistic shots of a handsome sidhe healer lounging in rich, green grass the same color as his hair.

Rory was lovely to look at but Angel had a limit to how many pictures he wanted to see of his new in-law. He did miss Daniel, and Rory too, but he couldn't begrudge Daniel his time away and his honeymoon.

Eroch scampered awkwardly out into the hallway from his den, wings knocking into the doorframe on either side, making a loud bang that shook the walls a bit.

Eroch was far, far larger than he had been even a week ago. Whereas for the wedding he was the size of a pitbull and just as wiggly, he was now approaching Great Dane territory and his tail was almost three times his body length. It had a mind of its own, same as the wings—the house, despite its grandeur, was really too small for Eroch until he learned how to coordinate his wayward limbs.

Eroch snuffled at Angel, sniffing loudly in hello, and sat back on his haunches as best he could, asking without words for a hug. Angel obliged, not having to bend at all, hugging the upper torso of his sweet, adopted scale-y son. "Are you feeling better, sweetheart?"

Eroch chirped in the affirmative, and it was loud enough in Angel's ear to make him instinctively flinch, careful not to let Eroch see his discomfort. Eroch was much louder than he used to be, but Angel was not going to scold his dragon for the increase in volume.

"Simeon?" Angel called when Eroch sat back to the floor, wings held awkwardly as he tried to turn around.

"Hold on, Eroch, wee beastie, wait right here," Angel said, cupping Eroch's muzzle and wiping along the soft hide just under his eyes with his thumbs. Eroch loved that and he calmed immediately.

"Mo ghra?" Simeon blurred into the hall, neatly avoiding the gangly dragon in the way before joining Angel at his side.

"We need to go to the Mansion to let Eroch stretch out. Can you let them know we're on our way? I'm gonna grab my bag and my new apprentice."

"I can," Simeon said, pulling out his phone and accepting the kiss Angel gave him in thanks.

"Stay right here with Simeon, don't move a muscle, okay?" Angel directed Eroch, who gave him a tiny nod and sad dragon eyes.

Thankfully, Angel was able to get to the stairs without any trouble, and headed up to the third floor and the guest rooms. The third floor also held his workroom and training rooms, letting him teach Rael while they were at home and safely behind wards and shields. Jameson had gratefully taken one of the empty guest rooms and turned it into a temporary office, so he could keep his business running while everyone in his company worked remotely for their safety.

Angel knocked on the bedroom door of the room claimed by the pair, and Rael opened it immediately, eyes as bright as his smile. Rael was a cheery kid, when he wasn't stressed out about his future and family.

"Heading to the Mansion for the day so Eroch can spread his wings," Angel explained.

"Can I come? Jameson is working all day," Rael asked, already grabbing his phone and wallet, shoving his feet into his boots.

"That's the plan," Angel said, smiling. Rael was eager to learn, and that was good considering how limited his time was before the semester started and he needed to go to orientation in Cambridge. "We're taking the archway to avoid the roads."

"Yay," Rael cheered quietly, making Angel laugh and shake his head. "I don't wanna get in another car crash. The last one was more than enough."

Rael stopped briefly to run in and say goodbye to Jameson, and Angel headed downstairs to rejoin Simeon and Eroch by the archway. No staff were in earshot or line of sight, and Angel texted Martin really quickly that they were going out. Only Martin knew about the portal, and the man was steadfastly avoiding the magical portal and keeping the rest of the staff away from the hallway in case it was in use.

Rael came running down the stairs and joined them at the arch, all smiles. "Let's go!" Rael paused and just before they all headed to the archway and the Mansion, he asked, "Can we have a picnic in the gardens? It's so nice out."

Cian leaned against an oak tree, mindful of his glamour hiding him from the mortals cheerfully mucking about in his brother's garden. Rael, the new apprentice, was in the thick of things, coordinating the picnic tables pulled from a storage shed behind the conservatory, and the blankets scattered about on the mossy sections of the garden around a stone water fountain that cheerfully gurgled in the bright summer sun.

He had no reason to employ his glamour other than not wanting to be roped into setting up for a picnic, not wanting to be crowded by sappy Salvatores in love chattering about their mates. He was also determined not to be caught laboring in the hot sun.

Simeon was in the Mansion with Ashwin, enjoying the sun within the building now that the sunlight wards were in place. Angel took the news with some surprise and was a bit…off. Cian suspected the young sorcerer was dealing with the fact that his ancestor considered the Mansion his home enough that the magics to anchor the sunlight wards were strong enough to work, and he was struggling with what that meant.

Eroch pounced out of the shadows under the thick boughs of the oak tree, landing on Cian's boot and gnawing ferociously on the enchanted leather. The once-tiny dragon was no longer an eggling, of a size now comparable to a small wolf or a precious miniature horse. At that awkward stage of a growth spurt where he appeared more wings than mass, Eroch was speeding through his first molt with singular alacrity, all thanks to the bond he shared with the necromancer.

Eroch growled as he tugged on the toe of Cian's boot, the leather changing itself enough to withstand the onslaught of a dragon's sharp teeth. Cian refused to smile or look down, affecting a nonchalance that was entirely false as the toddler dragon cavorted about like a dog playing tug o' war with a rope toy.

Eroch spat out his foot and sat on his haunches, tail whipping across the thick carpet of moss beneath the oak tree, wings mantling, and he fought a smile that threatened to burst free when Eroch whined for him to play.

"Little Trouble, I am hiding from manual labor," Cian gestured to the crowd of mortals setting up for that evening's festivities. "If I were to suddenly begin playing with a dragon, my glamour might not be sufficient to hide me from being roped into service, and then your adopted brood-father will be most cranky with me."

Eroch drooped, head hanging on his long neck, mastering the pitiful appearance of a wee beastie bereft of love and attention, and Cian, knowing full well he was being played, sighed and rolled his eyes before pushing off from the tree. He gestured to the hopeful dragon at his feet.

"Come along then, wee beastie. Let's find someplace else to entertain ourselves so we don't draw your father's attention or ire."

When his cell phone beeped with a group text about a picnic at the Mansion, Isaac decided on the spur of the moment to attend. The vampire mates would need to stay inside until dark, but the thought of relaxing in the warm sun sounded so appealing that Isaac turned on his feet and headed back to the bedroom, ready to change.

Ditching his trademark leather for a thin t-shirt and jeans and comfortable sneakers, Isaac grabbed his stuff and headed for the vault in the hallways outside their bedroom in the Tower. Constans was working downstairs, dealing with an issue about donors, and Isaac sent him a text telling his mate he was taking the archway to the Mansion for the day, and not to worry.

The vault opened with a soft hiss and the first thing Isaac saw was the archway, its black void in the center. He was already practiced at telling the portal where he wanted to go, so stepping through to his ancestral home into the library was nothing new, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking in the split second it took to transport him across the distance.

He exited the library at the Mansion, and headed down the service hall toward the rear of the house and the kitchen, looking for his brother.

Isaac stopped walking at an odd sound, tilting his head and trying to narrow down what it could be when he heard it again.

A rush of air and then a racket of what sounded like a rockslide, and Isaac wondered if someone was watching television in the Mansion, which wasn't normal, as Daniel and Rory used tablets or Daniel's laptop to stream videos and the most recent television model in the Mansion was over a decade old and was no longer hooked up to any service. Unless Ignacio or Ashwin brought a TV with them, there was something happening.

"Angel? Is that you?" Isaac headed down the long service hall that sprouted off from the huge kitchen in the rear of the Mansion, heading toward the old billiards room that had remained empty since Daniel moved in.

Isaac hadn't been in there since he was a young teenager, and the room no longer held the aging, antique green felt tables that went neglected for years, forcing them to be thrown away. The stone floor was bare of rugs and the wooden ceiling was a dark, polished brown that was nearly black, reflecting the light from the windows.

A tumble of rocks spilled across the floor, a lick of flame and black smoke curling around the place where the rocks had been, and Isaac waved a hand in front of his face to clear his vision.

"What the hell?" Isaac said loudly enough to startle the dragon cavorting about the empty room.

Eroch spun and chirped in greeting, before charging a nearby cairn of stone that appeared from thin air, taller than the dragon by several feet, stones a chalky, grayish white and slate in color, edges and sides scattering dust as Eroch landed on the stones, sending them skittering across the polished marble floor. Wind grabbed at the thick dust on the floor, twisting it in complicated spirals and creating shapes of mythical creatures about the size of a chunky squirrel from Beacon Hill, well-fed by indulgent residents.

A miniature unicorn made of dust rose from the debris left behind by Eroch's attack, charging at Eroch with its tail flagging out behind it, head lowered so the sharp point of its horn aimed for the not-so-small-anymore wee beastie. Isaac was certain he heard an equine scream in challenge as the opponents faced off along with the answering roar from the dragon.

Eroch held his ground and flapped his wings in excitement before spraying his opponent with a plume of dragon fire, reducing the dust unicorn to black powder that fluttered away in the currents from the central air.

Isaac finally managed to recollect his wits and saw the source of the magic, Cian sitting on the edge of the raised, cold marble hearth at the other end of the room, long legs out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, leaning back on his hands as he casually manifested rock and stone from thin air, and summoned tiny whirlwinds with enough skill and precision to fashion mythical creatures to battle a very spoiled dragon.

Isaac said nothing, and hugged the side of the room as he headed for the fae warrior. Eroch hardly spared Isaac a glance, too intent on defeating the mythical creatures Cian conjured from the stone cairns, each one growing more fantastical and challenging than the last.

Cian saw him coming but made no acknowledgment aside from a tiny quirk of his lips, an expression of casual, yet somehow snarky indifference that made it very apparent this was not Rory. The personality and the eyes were the only things that differentiated the twins, identical in every other way. At least as far as Isaac knew—he was gearing up the courage to ask Daniel if there were any other differences between the twins.

By the time he came within cautious speaking distance of Cian, Eroch was fiercely battling a kraken the size of a large raccoon, snapping and leaping over the rock piles as they clashed. The room was full of dust, debris, blackened trails of soot across the floor, and a growing cloud that Cian corralled into shape for the next fantastical battle.

Eroch rolled across the floor, tangled in an impressively fierce-looking but clearly safe battle with the dust kraken, the construct hugging the dragon with its many limbs, and then Eroch snapped his jaws around the main portion of its body and breathed a fireball that engulfed them both, hiding them from view.

Isaac knew that Eroch was immune to his own flame, but his heart still beat faster in his chest in alarm until the dragon appeared with a victorious roar from the cloud of black smoke and falling dust, horribly dirty and proud as fuck.

Isaac cheered, clapping. "Well done, Eroch!"

Eroch came to a sliding halt not far from where Isaac and Cian watched, mantling his wings and bouncing around, long tail whipping. He was a mess, covered in soot and stone dust, and the room stunk of dragon fire and burnt stone.

"Excellent show, Little Trouble," Cian said, getting to his feet in a graceful, fluid motion that nailed home the fact that he was not human. "Shall we take a break for some food or would you like another round?"

Eroch sat on his tail and clearly thought about it, but his reply was lost in the arrival of a very cranky dragon daddy.

Angel stood in the doorway of the billiards room, mouth open as he took in the scattered rock cairns, the thick layer of dust on the floor, the soot, and the hanging clouds of smoke and gray dust that filled the air, incredibly noticeable in the light from the lamps and windows.

"What. The. Fuck."

"Ah, necromancer. Just in time for Round Two," Cian called, Eroch chirping and spinning in excitement. "Care to play?"

Isaac's eyes went wide and he launched himself away from Cian, coming up against the wall as far from the brazenly reckless immortal as he could get.

Angel's eyes narrowed and he stepped farther into the room, hands on his hips, taking in the mess. His lips twitched, and Isaac recognized the smile that slowly grew on his big brother's face.

Cian was in serious trouble.

The sidhe warrior seemed to find his situation amusing.

Isaac didn't know whether to run, hide, or throw up a shield and wait for the world to end.

The Necromancer of Boston was young, precocious, and wily. Cian eyed the short, compact form of the mortal practitioner, sizing up the other man as hellfire-green sparks flickered around his shoulders, the mortal's aura swirling in deceptively languid rivers of energy. Cian's lips twitched in a tiny smile.

"Care to play, necromancer?" Cian gestured with one hand. "Your eggling has been bored of late, and I've been entertaining him for you."

Angel knew he was being goaded and the only reaction he made was a single quirk of a brow. "What do you have in mind?"

"Let us ask the young dragon!" Cian declared, motioning to Eroch with a flourish and short bow. "What game would you like to play next?"

Eroch sat on his tail and fanned his wings a bit, taking the inquiry seriously, smoke curling from his nostrils as he contemplated an answer. Angel narrowed his eyes at Cian for a short moment, but his expression relaxed when he seemed to decide he wasn't being maliciously sarcastic. Cian reminded himself that Rory was alive and awake and that perhaps he should be using the more empathetic side of their soul instead of falling back on desperate coping mechanisms developed through two centuries of emotional deprivation.

Isaac shuffled nervously from his spot along the far wall, out of the direct path of any spells that might be lobbed across the distance between Cian and Angel. The fire mage even had a shield up, and Cian smirked at the young man's caution.

Angel was tense, despite his casual stance, hands on his hips, power primed and ready, eyes sharp. Warriors were recognizable no matter the time period by the way they held themselves before a fight. A watchful regard that was always in the eyes, in the way they breathed.

Eroch bounded over to his brood-father and bowled into Angel's thighs, chirping excitedly. Angel swore and fell backwards, Eroch climbing onto his lap, front paws tugging on his sweater while he sniffed Angel's face, puffing out smoke, squeaking and chirping loudly.

"What's he saying?" Angel demanded loudly, though he was gentle with the young dragon.

Cian snorted out a laugh, amused. "Little Trouble is most adamant that you provide him with some ‘stinky dry dead people' to light on fire. He said it's been too long since he got to play with them the first time." Angel arched a brow at him, clearly not understanding. Cian laughed again, delighted. "He wants to battle zombies."

"Hecate's spine," Isaac swore from his spot leaning on the wall, standing up straight and squinting at his older brother. "When did he fight zombies? Where the hell was this?"

Angel gave up trying to escape Eroch and sat on the floor with the dragon splayed over his lap, scratching at the scales along his spine, Eroch limp with bliss. "Last year when O'Malley first clued me in to the graverobber schemes. Part of Hardwick's original team had zombies as guards while they dug up victims to summon and extort. Eroch had fun stomping them into dust and setting them on fire."

Eroch chirped once in agreement, the tip of his tail swinging back and forth. Angel shook his head, fond, but sighed regretfully. "I'm not disturbing the dead just so you can burn up some zombies."

Eroch whined, sad, yellow eyes full of neglect and suffering, and he sniffed dejectedly. Angel rolled his eyes. "I must be firm on this. No zombies for fun."

Cian contemplated the mechanics of the request, and he gathered that the rest of the Salvatores and Rory would object to raising the dead just so the dragon could have himself a battle against the undead.

"Is the picnic set to start soon?" Cian asked, turning to Isaac.

Isaac was startled to be spoken to but he had dismissed the shield and he smoothed his hands down his thighs, taking a moment. "It won't really start until after sundown so the vampires can attend without turning to ash."

Cian checked in with the world around him, and the sun would not set for a while yet. He clapped his hands once and turned a bit, staring at the stone floor of the barren billiards room.

The stone and dust he summoned to play with Eroch shivered, grinding and rattling, clouds of dust lifting, forming streams, following his will. From all corners of the room the detritus came in tidy streams, coalescing around a single point on the floor where he focused his will, and the stone and dust reformed into a sturdy, plain stone arch that rose from the floor, taller than Cian, and wide enough for the average human adult to walk through without trouble.

The sidhe mound was visible through the arch, the main expanse of the temple shadowed and dark, though as the arch finished becoming itself, distant torches within the temple burst to life, a welcome glow of orange and yellow fires beckoning to the curious.

"Come, Little Trouble, I know just the thing," Cian called, and Eroch threw himself off Angel's lap and bounced across the floor to the arch, meeting Cian at the threshold. Cian gestured for the dragon to go first, and Eroch leapt through the arch, his excited chirps echoing in the huge expanse of the temple beyond.

"He's not going without me," Angel declared, and Cian smiled, a bit sharper than he tried to be normally, but Angel paid it little heed as the necromancer strode past him without hesitation after his dragon.

"Wait for me!" Isaac called out, jogging over to the archway. He paused for a second, girding himself, and then glanced to Cian, as if asking permission. Cian nodded once, and the fire mage bolted through the arch, following his brother.

Cian sent Rory a thin tendril of thought, explaining where they were and what they were doing, and then he stepped through the archway, and the sidhe mound closed the way behind him, the arch fading away into nothing at his heels.