5. Cold Conversations

His mate was busy in the study with his new apprentice, the young wolf taking to the bond with alacrity and a sense of calm Simeon was impressed to see in one so young. But then, the cub was in school to become a doctor, so the steady nature was necessary. Simeon had no doubt that Rael would be an exceptional apprentice. Angel would not need to tend to Rael as he had to Daniel, as Rael was not traumatized.

Rael had his own support network, a mother and a mate, and a new pack with an alpha invested in the well-being of his pack members. Angel would only be there for the young wolf's education in magical matters, and given that Rael had been accepted to Harvard on a scholarship, it showed how serious and driven he was about his education in general, and Simeon had little doubt that Rael would prove to be a worthy student and apprentice for Angel.

Through their soulbond, he felt Angel's relief and pride at Rael's acceptance of the bond and how well the forging of it went. The soulbond was nothing like the bond he forged with the young wolf—that bond was limited in emotional access, and while Angel could use it to access Rael's memories and thoughts, Simeon was certain Angel would never abuse that access. Angel was heartily disinterested in other people's dramas, and as long as Rael learned and maintained control over his powers, Simeon was certain his mate would never need to utilize the more powerful aspects of the mentor and apprentice bond.

His phone vibrated, the distinct pattern for the City Master, and he answered it without checking the caller ID. "Master."

"Simeon." Batiste's cool voice echoed from the phone, rock-solid and powerful.

"I'm going to be out of easy reach for an hour or so—an unexpected trip across the pond to pick up a package and a couple of…friends."

Batiste was going to be taking The Way Between, his ability to peel back the walls of reality and open a wormhole to almost any place on Earth, stepping across oceans and continents in seconds. It was a formidable gift from his sire's line, and one that was a closely guarded secret. Or at least they tried to keep it that way—most of the older vampires in the clan knew about it, as did their fledglings. Constantine Batiste was over two thousand years old, and had used his ability quite a bit when he was younger. Rumors lasted forever when those speaking them never died.

They tried to limit the knowledge to the clan and their allies, which meant whoever Batiste was going to meet was a trusted individual, or knew the secret of The Way Between already.

"Is it someone I know?" Simeon asked, curious.

Batiste sounded gently amused—Simeon could hear Isaac in the background, muttering about what the weather was like in Budapest. Hearing the city name, Simeon immediately suspected who it was Batiste was retrieving, and he confirmed it a second later. "Remigius."

"Ahhh." Not a stranger, but not a dear friend—Remi, as he preferred to be called in this modern era, was nearly as old as Master Batiste, and of the same sire lineage, but one generation younger. Sired by an ancient Roman noblewoman, Lady Philippa, who in turn was sired by the ancient Rageshi. Philippa sired Remi around the time the Christian calendar shifted from BC to AD. Remi was exceptional at blending in, spying, and transporting vital and priceless items and information. Formerly a Roman soldier in the ancient Roman town of Aquincum in modern Budapest, Remi was now indistinguishable from today's youth, having been Turned in his twentieth year of life at peak health. He was handsome in a James Dean, leather biker kind of fashion—not to Simeon's tastes, but attractive enough to make people blush at his attention. Not so handsome that he'd disrupt the natural flow of a tavern or club with his presence. He was made to blend in—and did so flawlessly.

"Can I ask…"

"Why I'm getting him myself and not chartering a private plane?" Batiste finished his question. "Dear Philippa says the Council is after him—they've already tried to kill him once and take the items he holds. I'm meeting him at a rendezvous point in Budapest shortly."

"Shall I return to the Tower? Do you need me to come?"

"Isaac is coming with me. I don't plan on being too long—I'll need to recover the energy spent for the return trip, but I don't foresee anything happening that we can't handle until I can open the way back."

Isaac was a capable and talented fire mage, and Master Batiste was a powerful vampire, one nearly unmatched in strength and powers. Remi was nearly the same age, and was a skilled fighter, too, with a talent that frightened nearly every practitioner who had the misfortune to discover it firsthand.

"I'll inform the others we'll be having guests. I'll push the meeting time back to the dinner hour, if that's amenable."

"Yes, please!" Isaac called in the background, and Simeon laughed. Batiste sighed, but Simeon knew his master well and he was far from put out by Isaac's decisions, and the sigh was fond.

"The Mansion still has a ghost—a reminder from Angel to mind the family secrets, as it were."

Batiste outright laughed at that bit of silliness from Simeon, but he offered no complaint. "Tell your mate I understand. I'll leave the spilling of Salvatore secrets to him. I'll ask the same courtesy. It's a night for secrets, it seems."

"Good luck, Master," Simeon said. "I'll see you this evening."

"We'll be there," Batiste replied, and hung up without further goodbyes, confident as always.

Simeon put his phone away and headed for the library, pausing in the doorway. Rory and Daniel were kissing, wrapped in a passionate embrace, and Simeon retreated back to the foyer, deciding to see if the other Brennan twin was up and about.

It was near the height of the day, the sun bright, the sky a deep blue and the ocean humming in the background. Simeon made it safely to the kitchen, the blinds still lowered after breakfast, though the angle of the sun had shifted enough that no direct light fell against the windows. Simeon carefully moved one aside, holding himself out of the way of any stray beams if he were wrong about the angles, but thankfully he guessed correctly and was able to pull the blinds up on the glass door that led to the gardens.

A twitch of his lips was the only reaction he allowed himself when he saw the fae he sought idly waiting outside the door. If this were a horror film, and he was a hapless human, this would be where he jumped and screamed. Yet all Simeon did was retreat from the door and allow Cian Brennan to enter the kitchen, bringing with him the warmth of the day, and the scents of sun-warmed earth and flowers, beneath which swirled hints of stone, pine sap, and ozone.

Lightning and storms, mountaintops wracked by heavenly upheavals.

Cian was dressed in a manner that clearly separated him from his twin—they were physically identical, except for their eyes. Where Rory wore most of his own clothing made centuries past and preserved like new, mixed with a few modern pieces, Cian wore a simple gray t-shirt that clung to his torso, and a pair of soft light-blue denim jeans and boots suited to the hipsters who haunted Beacon Street in the evenings after the workday ended. Long green hair pulled back in a high ponytail that left the length to fall down his back, his mercurial, stormy eyes fixed on Simeon in amusement, Cian was an odd juxtaposition of impossibly ancient and refreshingly modern, with a dangerous and somewhat elegant predatory aura around him that set Simeon's instincts on edge.

Cian was a predator, and the first time they met, Cian gutted him like a slain deer and left him to bleed out on the street in Beacon Hill.

Cian shut the door securely and casually lowered the blinds on the door, humming softly under his breath before turning to smile widely at Simeon, teeth brilliant white and hinting at sharp fangs, though neither Brennan twin had them. It was all in the mannerisms.

"Good morning, Elder Simeon," Cian greeted him as if they were friends passing on the streets of a small Irish village back in their shared homeland. A part of Simeon that was once mortal and Irish to the core rejoiced in hearing the bright, clear tones of Eire in the High Court Sidhe's voice. The Brennan twins might be older than the whole of humanity and the concept of nations, but they had called Ireland their home for thousands of years, long enough for their voices to be a beautiful and painful reminder of what Simeon left behind centuries ago.

Simeon, not one to be rude, nodded shallowly in greeting. "Fair morning, Cian Brennan."

Cian eyed him with open amusement, well aware of the dislike Simeon held for him since their violent first meeting, even though Cian was not of sound mind when he left Simeon to die over a year ago. Simeon understood intellectually that Cian was driven to madness while his twin lay in stasis, a form of suspended animation that cut Cian off from the other half of his and Rory's soul, and without the stabilizing balance Rory provided his twin. Simeon found the biological and spiritual balances of the fae to be discomforting in many ways, but that was his mortal upbringing influencing his biases and opinions now, and he had to be careful not to blind himself with assumptions.

What was odd to him was entirely normal to the sidhe.

And while he knew Cian had been driven mad by the separation from his twin, his instincts screamed at him that there was a dangerous predator that nearly killed him once within arm's reach and he wanted to remove that danger from his territory.

Even Simeon had his madder moments.

Not that he acted on them.

Much.

"Have you eaten?" Simeon asked, to be polite. It was midmorning now and the kitchen had been put to rights after feeding their guests, but for the snoring dragon sprawled on the floor beside the breakfast nook, his platter empty, licked clean. The kitchen held a faint hint of dragonfire and burnt meat, though it wasn't unpleasant, merely pervasive to Simeon's vampiric sense of smell.

"I have. The garden provides well under my brother's tender care."

Cian smiled at Eroch, and to Simeon's surprise, went to the sleeping dragon and gently lifted the platter from under Eroch's chin, and then with one hand, snatched a cushion from the bench in the breakfast nook and slid that under the dragon's head instead. All without waking the not-so-wee beastie.

Cian stood in a smooth motion and took the platter to the sink, running it under hot water a moment before opening the dishwasher and finding a place for it amongst the dishes used that morning. It was surreal, observing an immortal being who was older than all countries on the planet combined go about such mundane and domestic tasks as adding detergent to a dishwasher, choosing the settings, and starting the machine, all with the ease of long experience.

"Rory was the one who slept," Cian spoke, wiping the counter with a paper towel before tossing it in the trash. "I traveled the long way through the years. I saw the moon landing, the advent of the world wide web, the dawn of social media, the blessed arrival of coffee shops on every corner."

Cian eyed Simeon in a teasing manner, and Simeon growled a bit under his breath. "Do you read minds, then?"

"Your expression was easy enough to read," Cian retorted with a chuckle. "And people tend to assume that my long life means I'm a Luddite. I have my own smartphone, and Daniel asked for internet in the underhill as a wedding present."

Simeon's brows went to his hairline. "Can such a place have internet?"

The sidhe mound, the temple—undercroft, underhill, all various names for the pocket dimension that answered to Cian's will and whims as a faithful hound would for a hunter—–was a wonder that had no match in the world, with more devastating power than a potential bite. The mound could go anywhere, instantly, at any distance, without a care for wards and shields, bypassing any and all protections.

It was the most powerful magical possession in the known universe, and it followed the commands of a serial killer.

Former serial killer. Reformed? Simeon tossed aside the idle semantics of what to label the strange sidhe leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyeing Simeon with open amusement.

"I have cellular reception, electricity, and plumbing. Internet is easy. I'll set the wi-fi up while Daniel and Rory are on their honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" There had been some discussion before Rory and Daniel wed, but nothing concrete was decided, as no one aside from the Brennan twins knew how Daniel would take to his transformation into a High Court Sidhe after their vows. The fledgling appeared to be well, the changes both subtle and yet stark—anyone would notice if within the same room as the boy that he was no longer human—but from a distance he appeared the same Daniel as he had been for the last twenty-one years.

"Once the family meeting is over, I'm sending them off for a well-deserved vacation."

"The mound? Can you send it away without yourself, then?" Simeon asked, slightly suspicious. Cian was now under house arrest under Angel's authority, as serving out his thousand-year prison term was not possible in the care of the mundane human governments. Too many weak-willed mortals would be after the knowledge, presumed wealth, and power of a High Court Sidhe. There had already been too many deaths and near misses, and Angel decided Cian was better off if he were considered dead to the wider world. Simeon agreed—it made things tense from time to time, having Cian about the Mansion, but knowing Cian, and by extension Rory, was out of reach of greedy humans made it worth it.

"We share a soul—where Rory is, so am I, and where I am, so is my brother," Cian answered, annoyingly cryptic. "But yes, I can use it to send the newlyweds on their honeymoon."

Eroch chose that moment to wake up, stretching his limbs and wings, one wing knocking into the bench, yawning wide enough that all his many fangs were visible, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth. He blinked his daffodil-yellow eyes and peered about, obviously still quite tired.

"Little Trouble! Fair morning." Cian greeted Eroch with a grin, and Eroch sleepily chirped back, presumably in the dragon language that no one but Eroch and the Brennan twins knew.

"Yes, the floor is quite hard," Cian agreed, walking past Simeon without a care, and the sidhe warrior bent down and with a graceful swoop, picked Eroch up off the floor and into his arms. Eroch flopped over Cian's shoulder, exhausted despite his post-breakfast nap, and let Cian carry him out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Simeon followed, curious.

Angel was still with Rael and Jameson in the study, the door closed, and from what Simeon was able to hear of their conversation, none of them were leaving the study anytime soon, but he kept an eye on their guests, ready to order Cian out of sight so no one saw him and learned he was still alive.

Cian was speaking to Eroch in a conversation that seemed one-sided but was not, a combination of chirps and trills and sounds that weren't meant to come from a humanoid throat, but Cian managed the Dragon language with enviable ease, and Eroch was apparently instructing Cian on where to take him, based on the wing gestures and imperious snout pointing. The wee beastie was more than able to walk, but his growth spurt had him in an awkward phase, wings and tail much longer, his body bigger by a multiple of three since the growth spurt began—aches and pains and uncoordinated limbs had him knocking into walls and furniture and priceless art on side tables and pedestals in halls.

Into the library they went, joining Rory and Daniel, who must have heard them coming as they were no longer locked in a passionate embrace, much to Simeon's relief. He was by no means a prude but seeing a fledgling he considered a son engage in such things was not something he wanted to experience more than necessary.

"Are you alright?" Daniel asked Eroch when Cian carried him into the room, rushing to meet them a few steps from the door. "Is he alright?" Daniel demanded of Cian, newly changed eyes stormy and dangerous.

Cian chuckled, not at all intimidated. "Little Trouble is well, he wants to nap somewhere soft, and we decided the library would suit him best. And don't worry, brother," Cian said to Rory, who merely sighed at his brother's attitude, "I'll be out of the house before anyone who shouldn't know learns I am in fact quite alive. The werewolves are too busy with their own dramas to be listening to us."

"Well, shit, there are werewolves in the house," Daniel echoed, eyes wide in realization. His eyes went unfocused and there was a tiny hiccup in the flow of energy in the Mansion, before Daniel returned to himself. "I put up a silence ward around the study so know one can hear us." Daniel turned to Simeon before he could voice his worry— "We can still hear them, so if Angel needs you he can call for you."

"Thank you, Daniel," Simeon said, and Daniel smiled wide, pleased. His grasp of his magics and the new changes were coming easily to him, it seemed—or so Simeon hoped. Daniel deserved an easy time of things after all the pain of his short life. "I'm moving the family meeting back to after dinner. Master Batiste is unfortunately called away on some urgent business, and he and Isaac are out of touch until this evening. They'll be bringing two guests as well, and some news he feels the need to share with us all."

Cian set Eroch down on the largest couch in the library, and the dragon sighed in exhaustion and almost immediately fell asleep. Cian stood over him for a long moment, as if making sure he was asleep, before stepping away and going to his brother. Rory smiled at Cian, wide and beautiful, and it brought home to Simeon how much Rory depended on and cared for his twin. Cian's need for Rory was obvious—he became dangerously apathetic and mentally unstable without Rory—but the need Rory had for his brother was less obvious, seen only in the joy he held for his brother and the protective nature of his concern and care.

Daniel very kindly gave Rory and Cian a private moment, coming to stand with Simeon near the door. The twins did not speak, merely leaned into each other, eyes closed as they spoke to each other telepathically.

"You don't need to follow him around, ya know. Cian's fully in control of himself, and while he likes violence, he doesn't like pointless violence." Daniel said quietly, looking up at him from his beautiful eyes, the colors of a summer storm brewing on the horizon. "Cian isn't a threat to any of us. We're family now."

"Perhaps you are, fledgling," Simeon answered him with a soft smile, reaching out and gently running his hand over Daniel's longer hair, bright and shiny as polished gold. Daniel was a tactile soul and leaned into the touch. "I'll not be counting him a brother on account of our personal history, but as a clanmate, that I can do."

"Yeah, that's understandable," Daniel said with a sigh, turning to watch the twins. "He's like a cat. Reserved and cold with strangers, but he has his favorites. You're either one of his people, or not. Kinda no in between."

"Are you one of his people?" Simeon asked, curious. The twins shared such a beep bond that Simeon wondered how the addition of Daniel to the mix affected things.

"He is, Elder. A new brother after so long, and one I'm delighted to have," Cian called out loudly enough to make it obvious he'd been listening to them despite his quiet moment with his brother. Rory grimaced and nudged Cian's elbow, giving him a warning glare, which Cian promptly ignored. "Young Daniel makes a fine Brennan, one I'm proud to claim. Anyone who Rory loves is loved by me."

Daniel flushed, pleased by the words, though he crossed his arms and pouted a bit at Cian. "I haven't changed my name. I'm staying Daniel Salvatore, thank you very much."

"Names aren't that important when we have such long lives," Cian teased, ignoring his brother's displeasure at him poking at his mate. "You've already changed your name once, and living forever means doing it again."

"We'll see about that," Daniel grumped, cheeks a bit red from the teasing. Simeon kept his thoughts behind his teeth—to spare Daniel further embarrassment and to keep from agreeing with Cian. Simeon was over four hundred years old, and though he went by a name quite close to what he'd used as a mortal man, he'd also changed his name quite a few times over the centuries. Names were as fluid as identities, sometimes.

"Cease your teasing, Cian," Rory threatened his brother in the most polite manner possible, and Simeon couldn't help the chuckle that escaped, making Cian send him a sharp glare before he spun around to give them all his back. Cian pulled a throw blanket from a basket beside the couch and spread the blanket over the sleeping dragon, tucking him in, leaving only the end of his snout visible. Eroch made no reaction, deeply asleep.

"How long will the growth spurt last?" Simeon asked, sympathy for the wee beastie moving him to inquire. He was far removed from his own puberty as a mortal boy, but what he did recall was unpleasant and uncomfortable at the best of times and downright humiliating at the worst.

The twins shared a look, communicating wordlessly, before Rory answered.

"He's not one of the Welsh reds we knew best, but they aren't that different. Perhaps another month before he settles down for a long while. Dragons live so long they can match us in years—they grow slowly, too. He's a toddler, in terms best understood by humans, and he'll be a child for several centuries more." Rory paused, and regarded Eroch sleeping under the blanket, snoring softly. "His bond with Angel is strong, and Angel feeds him magic constantly. He has no competition for the brooding magic, nor for food, so he's like a sole fledgling eagle in a nest with doting parents."

That could also be a bad thing— "Are we overfeeding him in magic?"

Angel, as a necromancer, had a connection to Simeon that went beyond the mate bond—Angel had access to the primordial death magics that animated the sentient undead. A form of magic so ancient it was as old as reality itself, and as endless as eternity. Angel was constantly drawing death magics from that primordial well, and that magic found its way into Simeon again through Angel, back and forth between them, and a portion went to Eroch. That it was death magic made no difference—dragons were made of magic, all kinds, every variety, and death was merely magic to them, and just as useful as elemental magic.

Angel had thought the bond he formed with Eroch after freeing him from the geas was one of a familiar and practitioner—but that was not so. Due to Eroch's age and nature, it was that of a brooding dragon parent to its dragon infant in the nest.

Rory and Cian did the silent talking again, and then Cian answered. "Dragons are built for consuming magic in this manner. If he grows too fast from the bond, it can be adapted. From my understanding, Eroch has the ability to pull more power from Angel when needed, and let it go again when he does not. He may be a child, but he has more sense than a human child. Wait and see, I suppose."

Simeon hummed to himself, thinking, and Daniel looked a bit worried. A shift in magic as Angel removed the privacy spell Daniel had placed broke the slightly worried atmosphere, and Cian promptly disappeared from view. His glamour was so complete that even Simeon could not see or sense the sidhe.

Simeon left the library and met Angel at the door of the study as he led Rael and Jameson to the foyer. Simeon nodded in greeting, Rael smiling, a bit nervous, and Jameson eying him warily, the alpha werewolf keeping a protective hand at the small of his mate's back. Angel went right to Simeon and Simeon held a hand out to his mate, who took it without thought and threaded their fingers together in a firm grip.

"Family meeting's moved back to after dinner," Simeon said quietly to Angel. "Isaac and Batiste had something come up."

Angel's brows furrowed a bit but he only nodded in acknowledgment, before gesturing with his free hand to Rael. "Rael has agreed to be my apprentice. The bond went well."

"Congratulations," Simeon said, dipping his head in a slight nod to the young wolf, who was radiating nervous and excited energy, eyes aglow a bit in a startling neon shade of bright blue.

"Thanks! I hope I'm not a disappointment or too much trouble," Rael replied. Jameson wrapped his arm around his shoulders and frowned at his mate's self-deprecating remarks, but he said nothing, letting Rael speak for himself.

"Apprentices are always trouble," Angel retorted with a smile and a shake of his head. "I'd be worried if you gave me nothing to worry about."

Simeon chuckled a bit, and Rael smiled wider at the teasing. He was remarkably different than Daniel had been—though Rael had a vastly different life than Daniel had before he came to Angel. Comparing Daniel and Rael was doing a disservice to them both.

"I'll text you when your first lesson is set up. I'll meet you at my place in Beacon Hill."

"Thank you so much, for everything," Rael said.

"You're welcome, and thank you for trusting me," Angel replied.

As the sun was still shining, Angel escorted Rael and Jameson to the front door while Simeon remained safely out of reach of the sun.