6. A Long Time Coming

"Who is Batiste bringing along to the family meeting?" Angel asked, leaning on Simeon's chest in the big armchair in the library. Angel was quite content to sit on his mate's lap and give Simeon all his weight.

Simeon was more than strong enough to carry it all and then some.

"An ally and family member of sorts, Remigius, and another guest. There's some trouble with the Council in Budapest, and Remi is carrying some items that can't fall into the hands of the High Council."

Angel frowned, but curiosity drove him to ask. "What's he carrying?"

"My Master asked that he be the one to divulge the details. I don't know what it is, regardless," Simeon shared, and Angel grumpily sighed, making Simeon chuckle. It was a soft rumble in an otherwise silent chest, cool and solid and strong. Simeon smelled delicious as always, a heady mix of blood, chocolate, mint, and copper, and it relaxed Angel in a way nothing else could.

"Fine, I'll try to be patient," Angel said. "It better not be more drama, like that damn blood-mage staff. I've got enough magical artifacts in the family vault as it is."

Daniel came walking into the library at that moment, and Angel peered over Simeon's shoulder to watch his former apprentice come to a graceful halt when he noticed them sitting together in the chair. Lithe and elegant, his natural beauty only enhanced and sharpened by the previous evening's transformation, Daniel was still very much himself…only more. Where he had been a young man in the first blush of adulthood, he was now the embodiment of youth, eyes bright, smile like quicksilver, his magic a soft thrum in a near palpable aura, air and water, a dual affinity deepened and expanded by his transformation into one of the High Court Sidhe.

"Oops, sorry!" Daniel said, blushing, hands up as he backed away to leave.

"Daniel! C'mere for a minute," Angel called, and Daniel stopped and turned back, one brow arched in a manner Angel recognized from the mirror. He'd left a mark on the young man, in more ways than his new name and reformed education.

The child of his heart. But then, he didn't want to cry again that day, so he made himself stop thinking about how much was changing in so short a time.

"I don't wanna be scarred…" Daniel said, a bit wary.

"Oh stop, we're just sitting in the chair, hands perfectly behaved," Angel scoffed, and Simeon laughed quietly, hugging Angel a bit tighter.

Daniel came farther into the room and eyed them warily, then seemed to find their positions acceptable, sitting primly in a chair nearby. Angel tried hard not to react to the silliness—Daniel was exuberantly happy, nearly incandescent with it. And here he was, not still abed with his new husband on a faraway tropical island or something equally decadent.

"I'm sorry your wedding night got interrupted by mage battles and ancestors returning from death," Angel said abruptly. "Another gripe I've got with the damn Council."

And Ignacio, but he was doing his best not to think about it at the moment.

Daniel shrugged one shoulder, blonde hair like spun gold falling over his eyes that he then swept back with one hand. He was so different, yet so solidly the same person. "We've been waiting for the Council to make a move on us for days now—and we decided to hold a wedding on super short notice. I wasn't planning on a complicated honeymoon or anything. The High Council wants a war. A honeymoon kinda seems…selfish?"

"Oh no, we're not doing that," Angel declared, sitting up on Simeon's lap, his mate's hand slipping from shoulder to hip in a solid hold. He pointed at Daniel. "You deserve a honeymoon. You're going on a honeymoon if I have to convince Rory to kidnap you. The world won't fall apart if you're happy and enjoying yourself. The war will be here when you get back."

"Unless my Leannananam kills them all before you return home," Simeon said with a wry grin, emerald eyes glittering with a mixture of pride and affection, tone holding a sense of aggrieved inevitability. Angel poked Simeon in the side, his mate unbothered, and Angel promptly pretended Simeon wasn't there, focusing on Daniel, who was doing his best not to laugh at their antics.

"Please don't singlehandedly finish a war…again. You don't need to do the hard stuff on your own." Daniel lightly scolded him, and Angel sighed loudly, shaking his head.

"Ganged up on, on all sides." Daniel smirked and shrugged again. Angel tried not to laugh. "I was going to ask how you're feeling. Less than a day as a High Court Sidhe. You doing alright?"

Daniel looked down at his hands resting on his knees, turning them palm up and splaying his fingers wide, then slowly curling them in. He was made anew in many ways—watching the transformation the night before had been both disturbing and worrisome—the change had been subtle, but significant in its scope and course by the end. Watching it as a spectator had left Angel with a vague sense of uncanny valley—a familiar face staring back at him, yet visibly no longer human. Daniel was not wrong—just different. A painting originally done in watercolor and reproduced in oils, the subject the same and yet portrayed in vastly different mediums.

"I feel great, honestly. There are new things," Daniel blushed fetchingly at that, and Angel resolutely did not ask for clarification. "I feel like me. My magic is still there, it's no longer frightening or a struggle. My stamina feels almost endless compared to the reserves I had as a human. My anxiety, the constant refrain of worry…it's gone. I woke up this morning, truly relaxed and at peace, even with the threat of war and violence on the horizon. I didn't realize how much of my existence was anxiety."

Daniel paused, then rested his hands palm down on his knees, and smiled up at them, a sweet, beautiful smile that was all Daniel. "I feel like me. I fit into the world around me. Not metaphorically—the natural world welcomed me, and I am anchored in a way that gives me strength and a sense of safety."

"You feel safe." Angel said quietly, heart breaking a tiny bit. Daniel finally felt safe.

Daniel nodded, a slow dip of his chin as he thought about it. His smile grew into a happy grin. "I do."

"I am so happy for you." Angel got up from Simeon's lap, his mate helping him stumble to his feet, and Daniel met him in a rib-creaking hug full of love and a tiny bit of tears.

Dinner had been a buffet-style event since Angel didn't want to cook a sit-down dinner, not that he would when clearly Simeon and Ash were far more skilled at it. The two vampires raided the stocked kitchen and made a variety of foods for a wide range of tastes, and used the antique buffets in the dining room for the first time since Angel's childhood.

Isaac and Constans were back from their trip overseas, though they had dinner at the Tower so their guests could relax and try to adjust to the time-zone changes, having jumped backwards in the day from late evening to early afternoon. Budapest was several hours ahead of Boston, and Angel winced at how tired that would make him if he were them. The sun had yet to set, another reason to wait—the western horizon was in the front of the Mansion, full of windows with imperfect antique treatments that weren't all that safe for the undead members of the family and bloodclan.

Leo was eating dinner at the massive dining table, bracketed by his fathers, Ashwin sipping from a stained-glass chalice that obscured the red hue of the blood within, making it appear black. Ignacio ate a plate piled high, enjoying the food with compliments to the chefs—Ashwin merely winked at his mate and Simeon gave a regal dip of his auburn head.

Angel could smell the tang of the blood, poured from a blood-bag unit, one of many the bloodclan had delivered the night prior for the wedding reception. The boy showed no aversion to the blood, not even giving the chalice a glance. A mortal human child raised by a vampire—seeing his father drink blood was as normal as his human father eating solid food.

Angel ate earlier in the kitchen, snacking as the vampires cooked, not feeling up to a full meal. Too much was going on. Or it felt like it.

Milly came swanning into the dining room, and Angel met her at the door where she greeted him with a pat to the cheek. She had gone home to her townhouse earlier that day and returned less than an hour ago, refreshed and ready for anything in a dark blue cotton dress that hugged her curves and made her gorgeous white and silver hair shine like polished metal. A silver and sapphire pendant hung from her throat and shining platinum rings graced her fingers. She wore low heels in a dark blue suede with a silver buckle on the toe, and she cut an elegant and yet relaxed figure.

She hugged him around the waist, the only one present who was shorter than him, aside from the kid. "My dear, you look stressed and ready to pop. Have you been this bad all day? What were you doing all day while I was gone?"

Angel shrugged, knowing she could see through him and his excuses. "I got a new apprentice and convinced the former it was okay to celebrate his wedding with a honeymoon, and then I sat on Simeon's lap for a few hours in the library."

"And you still look this strained?" She sighed. "I hope you get some sleep tonight."

"Yeah, me too. Simeon and I are going home to Beacon Hill after the meeting."

Milly said nothing about the fact that Ignacio and his family would be in the Mansion on their own, especially since Daniel usually spent his nights in the conservatory with Rory, though maybe he and his husband might stay more often in the bedroom Daniel had in the Mansion since Cian was in residence. Though how they were getting Daniel and Rory out for their honeymoon without the Council catching on or trying to stop them had Angel a bit worried. Simeon mentioned Cian offered to transport them with the sidhe mound, but Angel needed more information before green-lighting that plan.

"I need to get a bedroom sorted out for Leandro," Angel said quietly, thinking that the preteen boy might appreciate having his own space. He had no idea how long the conflict with the Council was going to last, or if his newly arrived relatives had long-term plans for their family.

Milly patted his chest with her free hand, smiling up at him. "Give him the guest room I used. It's right next to the suite we put them in last night. It's ready to go, just change the sheets. Or ask Ignacio what room was his when he was a lad here growing up. Might be a nice gesture to put Leandro in his father's childhood room."

Angel shifted a bit, internally squirming at the prospect of asking such a personal question of his ancestor—his rage was slumbering, and he was terribly afraid of igniting it, mindful of the potential collateral damage.

His phone chimed, and he pulled it out of his pants pocket, thumb flicking the notification. He moved gently from Milly's embrace and stepped into the foyer, the western-facing windows showing that sunset was nearing completion, the intense cast of orange a thin line on the horizon. "Isaac and Constans are on their way in a few minutes."

He pulled up his text app and messaged everyone who he needed in attendance, hearing a few chimes echoing from varied rooms off the foyer. Pocketing his phone, he gave Milly a nod. "Time for the family meeting. I guess."

Milly tilted her head and gave him an arch glance, tsking, exasperated. She usually was with him, and he found a smile for her. "My dear boy. Call it what it is, you'll feel better."

She was right. Again. Always, really.

"Time for the war council."

With the final rays of the sun faded from the foyer and the sun safely tucked away beneath the western horizon, Angel, Simeon, Daniel, and Rory awaited the arrival of the rest of their family and guests from the Tower.

Constantine Batiste had a remarkable ability, one that Angel had no idea the City Master possessed until he mated to the Bloodclan Elder and got to know the ancient vampire better. It took Simeon nearly dying on a cold street in Beacon Hill, but Angel appreciated the risks Batiste took in revealing his ability when attempting to rescue his Elder and friend.

A thrum of energy rose in the ambient magical fields, and while The Way Between could bypass any ward or shield spell system, across nearly any distance, it was Batiste's own vampire nature that prohibited him from using it to access any place a mortal called home, unless specifically Invited.

The Invitational magics were an ancient and natural magic that prevented the sentient undead from hunting humans to extinction—any place called home by a mortal, given enough time to saturate the domicile with the Invitational magics, was inaccessible to the sentient undead. It was a magic that happened over time, and depended on the mortal human residents developing a sense of home for a place, regardless of what it was—a shack in the woods, a cave in the earth, a mansion by the sea—once the Invitational magics took root, the sentient undead were barred from entering, the mortal inhabitants safe. Practitioners theorized it was a form of magical evolution within the human populace after the genesis of the sentient undead in their varied forms—vampires and revenants only came into existence after humanity. They never existed before there were mortal humans.

Thankfully, Isaac and Angel both extended Invitations to their vampire friends and family—Simeon, Batiste, certain members of the Bloodclan, and now Batiste's mystery guests. Even though the Invitational magics had yet to gather in the Mansion again in sufficient strength to create the threshold boundary that barred the sentient undead, they didn't want to take the risk of the threshold spontaneously being generated when they weren't looking, and having the wormhole go astray if Batiste tried to enter the estate. Luckily, Invitations were proactive.

When the tear in reality happened, Angel braced himself against the searing white light, the edges of empty air peeling back like old-fashioned film exposed too long to a projector light, melting and warping. Eyes tearing up, Angel looked down at the stone floor of the foyer to spare his vision. The tear in reality was larger than usual, and it was open long enough that Angel peeked through his lashes to see what was happening.

Batiste stepped through without issue, Isaac holding hands with his mate. Isaac was used to the nauseating journey through the wormhole and didn't get sick anymore. A tall vampire dressed in black followed behind Isaac, holding hands as well with a short young man. Once the young man cleared the horizon of the wormhole and it snapped shut behind them with a thunderous rumble Angel felt in his bones, the stranger promptly bent at the waist and threw up on the floor.

The black-haired vampire bent over the shorter man and held him gently about the waist, speaking softly to him in a lightly accented voice.

"I'm so sorry," the young man groaned, hands on his knees, sounding miserable. Curly brown hair obscured his face, but he sounded deeply apologetic and miserable.

"It takes getting used to," Batiste said, not unkindly. "There's no shame in your body's reaction."

"I just threw up again, this time all over a really expensive floor in a very fancy house," the young man said, finally straightening and letting Angel get a good look at him. Dark blue eyes red and watering from his reaction to the wormhole travel, he was beautiful regardless, with the near-perfect symmetrical face and sharply defined features of a fae, though he was shorter than the Brennan twins and the few elder fae species Angel had seen before. He was softer, prettier, with a full mouth and sculpted jawline that was more human than sidhe. Angel figured he was descended from one of the other younger fae species, the peoples who were born of the earth around the same time the various human species evolved into being. The elder fae species, like the High Court Sidhe, were astronomically older than both the younger fae species and humanity as a whole.

There were a few differences between the elder and younger fae peoples—mostly in terms of inherent abilities and individual strengths—and the younger fae peoples managed to interbreed with humans with more regularity and frequency. Though that might have more to do with the dwindling numbers of elder fae peoples than biological similarities between humans and younger fae. More scholarly practitioners than he sought those answers.

"I'm Celyn Walsh, hi," the young man waved, both charming and sweetly pathetic in a way that wiggled past Angel's defenses with inevitable efficiency. The accent was faint, and the young man had a voice as beautiful as his face. "If you point me toward some paper towels and cleaning stuff, I'll fix my mess."

"No need," Angel said before anyone else.

He stepped forward and waved his hand, hellfire rising from the stone floor and consuming the mess in less than a second, so thorough that not even a waft of scent from the burning yuckiness made it to their noses. Hellfire dismissed as fast as he summoned it, Angel smiled at Celyn in welcome. "I'm Angelus Salvatore; you've met my younger brother Isaac already. Welcome to my ancestral home."

Dark blue eyes wide, Celyn blinked at him, startled, before he grinned, clearly delighted. "Hi! Nice to meet you. Thanks for cleaning that up for me. Nearest bathroom, please?"

There was indeed a bit of an accent there, not pronounced, something from the United Kingdom, perhaps. Simeon would be able to tell him. Angel, liking how forthright the young man was, and he smiled and pointed across the foyer toward the service hall. "About twenty feet down that hall on the left. There should be new toiletries under the sink if you want to freshen up. Take your time."

"Thanks!" Celyn responded happily, and he slowly, and reluctantly, walked away from the handsome vampire holding his hand.

The tall vampire was lithe in a way much like Daniel, though a bit taller and a bit broader in the shoulders. His skin was vampire pale, though even paler than Angel was used to seeing from most vampires. His eyes were a dark brown that glimmered red in the overhead light from the chandeliers, and his hair was so black it appeared wet, shiny with blue hints in the highlights. With a strong nose and high forehead with sharp cheeks, and red lips like an illustration of Snow White, this had to be the family member Simeon told him about.

"Everyone, this is Remigius, originally of the Roman city Aquincum, lately of Budapest. Remigius, this is Angelus Salvatore, Necromancer of Boston, mate to my First Elder and clan champion, Simeon ó Daimhín," Batiste introduced them one by one. He gestured to Daniel and Rory, who were standing a bit farther back. "And the beautiful Daniel Salvatore, adopted son of Angelus, and his husband, Rory Brennan. They were wed last evening."

Remigius nodded to them each in turn. There was a hint of familiarity in his nod to Simeon, and he concealed any surprise at Daniel's new last name, bowing a bit in a manner similar to how Rory and Cian did, at the shoulders and smooth in a way no one born in modern times could manage. "Greetings. Thank you for the kind welcome, and the welcome for my… for Celyn." A bit awkward there, and Angel made a note of it. Nothing sinister, but he was curious. "And congratulations on your wedding."

"Aquincum?" Angel asked, curious. The name was familiar but that was it.

"I am formerly a Roman citizen," Remigius answered Angel with a dip of his chin. "I was Turned a little over two thousand years ago."

Angel looked at Remigius with more respect—he was a contemporary of Batiste with that number of years behind him, and bound to be formidable.

Angel finally turned his attention to his little brother, who was smiling, relaxed, and his aura sang with contentment and pride. "I know you're alright, I can see it, but how are you doing?"

"Kicked ass!" Isaac declared. "We'll tell ya the details during the meeting, but it was typical Council bullshit. They tried to stop us. We kicked their asses."

"He's being modest," Batiste murmured with pride. "He and Remigius took on a handful of Council enforcers and dispatched them all in minutes. All I had to do was stand there and be beautiful."

Isaac laughed, cheeks pink, and he leaned into Batiste. "You did a great job. And getting us there and back in one piece was impressive. That's thousand of miles! Three trips through The Way Between in one day. I'm impressed."

Angel was too. From Boston to Budapest and back in one day was impressive all on its own. Then the trip from the Tower to the Mansion, which wasn't far, but with two additional people and after two trans-Atlantic jaunts, it went beyond impressive into staggering.

Batiste appeared to be in good shape, not a speck of hair out of place and his expression flawless. Though there was a hint of something… "What is that?"

Angel opened his inner vision and saw a cloud of red and purple energies the size of a softball emanating from Batiste's inner breast pocket. The wards around the estate shivered a bit, focusing in on the foyer, the primitive awareness of the wards alerting Angel to a potential danger. Now that he was focusing on it, he sensed old, old spells and a combination of power that made his whole body scream in instinctive wariness.

"Blood and death magic," Angel stated, bracing himself as he pointed at Batiste accusingly. "What the fuck have you brought into this house?"

Chairs scraped across the floor in the dining room and Ignacio appeared in the foyer, walking up from behind Angel to stand not far from his side, eyeing Batiste with suspicion.

"Whoa! Angel," Isaac said, hands up and palms out, putting himself between Angel and his mate. "It's not a threat. I promise. I wouldn't let anyone bring anything dangerous here without telling you first. It's not a weapon or a cursed object."

Isaac's reassurance cut through his initial reaction and he released his inner vision and grimaced, rolling his shoulders, trying to relax. "Sorry, that was shitty of me. I apologize."

Batiste nodded once in acceptance, appearing utterly unfazed by Angel's behavior. "No offense taken, Angel. An understandable reaction to having such…complicated magics in your family home. I can reiterate that the object I carry is safe, and will not harm anyone here."

Batiste turned to Ignacio, who watched silently, expression unreadable. "Greetings, Ignacio Salvatore. We met briefly last evening in the chaos of your arrival, but I'd like to reintroduce myself. I am Constantine Batiste, City Master of the Boston Bloodclan, and soulbonded mate to your many times grandson, Isaac." Batiste gestured to Remigius at his other side. "And a relation of mine, Remigius. His partner is Celyn, who is indisposed for the moment."

"You can call me Remi," the vampire replied, speaking in a way to make it clear the offer was meant for everyone. "Remigius makes me feel old."

A couple of chuckles followed that, easing the tension a bit.

Isaac said nothing, shifting until he could press his shoulder into Batiste's, hands in his pockets, defensive. Isaac had some issues with their ancestor—Angel had yet to speak to his brother about the particulars, but he had a feeling those issues weren't too far off from his own.

Ignacio made no move to approach Isaac, though he did nod in greeting and addressed Batiste, clearly aware of the emotional storm brewing under the surface with Isaac and Angel. "Hello again, Master Batiste, an honor to meet you. Ashwin has plenty of good things to say about you and your clan. I look forward to getting to know you better." He nodded in greeting to Remi, who dipped his chin in response, neither saying a word.

Presumptive and polite. Angel schooled his expression and gestured toward the library. "Time for the meeting."