by Mathew Ortiz
Dathan opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mother smiled softly at him.
She murmured, “Look.”
“At what, Mother?” Clenching his fists, he didn’t want any more revelations.
“See how concerned Oliver’s family is for Donovan?” Joy stepped away from her son. Oliver’s family clustered around the shifter, and Reeka Oswald laid hands on him, allowing the golden glow of magical healing to swirl around his brother. “I think my son will do fine in exile. Oliver’s family will treat him well…far better than we have.”
Dathan glanced at her, and she only shrugged and made her way to her other son.
***
Jaime Blackthorne cried as the fire consumed more and more of her home. This can’t be happening. Her home was burning. She was still in shock as she stood next to her brother Duncan in the cool night. His hand slipped into hers and she gazed at him.
“Our home—” she began, but grief overwhelmed her, and she burst out crying, burying her face in Duncan’s shoulder. Duncan said nothing, his own body shaking with sorrow.
“What are we going to do?” he whispered. Just then, she noticed their three aunts walking hand in hand past them. Bea and Reeka supported a badly shaken Mags, and they stopped a few feet in front of her and Duncan.
The three raise their clasped hands, and their voices joined in chorus. Power cascaded around them as they called forth their considerable magic and chanted.
“Pluviam, die qua invocaverimus te exaudi appellationem ad me.”
The three voices sang into the night. Magic swirled around them in ever-expanding vortices. Strands of silver, blues, greens, and golds coiled around the aunts, and the sky darkened further as a rumbling crescendo split the air. Storm clouds like whorls of ink in water formed above the house, and a jagged snap of lightning lit the night air blue-white.
Jaime’s breath came in a puff of fog, and she shivered. Her Aunt Bea must be projecting cold. The temperature was considerably lower than normal. The sky crackled again, and the heavens opened, releasing a hard, cold, and driving rain that fell upon the conflagration of their home. Oliver joined them and linked hands with Reeka. Swirls of micro tornados formed and sucked the air from the fire’s grasp, snuffing it out. Jaime and Duncan followed suit and linked hands with Bea. Jaime added her strength and assumed Duncan was using his power to snuff out the flames, as well.
A harmony of magic and soul poured from them. Jaime soul connected with her entire family in their concilium. The fire fought them, trying to gain purchase, and it might have succeeded against only one of them. Against the combined might of her family, however, the fire screeched and sputtered. The flames withered under their song of power. The twilight of the near night bloomed full without the horror of the fire that once tried to consume their home. The rain altered and now fell upon them as a natural downpour. Jaime shivered as the cold droplets soaked her nightclothes.
The concilium of power and mind evaporated, and Jaime was alone in her head again. She heard a cry from beside her and she turned to see her aunts help Mags to the ground.
“The--the fires are basically out.” Mags’ breath came in heavy gasps. “Even in the catacombs.”
“Are you sure?” Jaime asked, and her aunts all nodded.
“What do we do now?” Jaime susurrated, her voice small and tiny. “Our home is gone.”
“No.” Oliver’s voice startled her with its strength. “Not gone, just damaged.”
“Aunt Bea! When did you get here?” Duncan asked, sensible as always.
Bea fussed softly. “I sensed my sisters were in danger. I arrived just as Mills teleported onto the front lawn. I brought some concerned parties.”
Pear Whitfield sat next to Ming, talking in a low voice. Ming touched Pear’s dark face, and Pear grabbed the hand and pressed a kiss to it. It would seem I wasn’t the only one falling in love.
Tjeed lay with his head in Karina’s lap and was holding Sal’s hand.
“Thank--thank you for coming.” All heads swung round as William, helped by Rush, plodded over to them. Her brother took in the destruction. “What happened?”
“Methane,” Mags explained, and Oliver nodded. “I smelled it a split second after Duncan released his fire. The catacombs must have been filled with it, and all it needed was a spark.”
“How did you get out?” Jaime summoned umbrellas for her family and handed them out.
“It was Oliver,” Mags stated, and all heads turned to him. “You teleported us out of there.”
“I--I don’t remember,” Oliver stuttered.
“I know teleportation when I feel it, and it wasn’t me or Duncan. The power emanated from you.” Mags pointed at him. “Two new powers.”
Oliver’s wan smile made Jaime’s heart warm. Her brother was so much more than she had given him credit for. Her feet were hurting from the cold earth, and she summoned her house shoes only to find charred remnants appear before her. She almost started to cry again.
“We need to get out of the rain and cold. The spell will last for hours,” Bea advised them, and the weary family agreed.
“No one can stay here. Not tonight.” Oliver opened his arms, and Donovan came into them. “I—”
The wail of emergency vehicles behind them caused them to turn. Tearing down the main road, four police cars, two fire trucks, and two ambulances skidded to a halt around them, and men and women poured from the fire trucks and set about putting out the last of the fires. Police cordoned off the area, and the medical personal tumbled out and raced to the family.
“Alright, what happened here?”
Jaime scrunched up her nose at the officious tone of Sheriff Nicholas Van Patten.
Oliver strode forward and put himself between Van Patten and his family. “We think a gas line ruptured. Luckily we were all in the garden when it blew.” Her brother was staring oddly at Van Patten. Jaime’s head tingled as if magic was in use.
“Hmmm.” Van Patten thoughtfully surveyed the scene. “We’ll investigate in the morning once the fires are out.”
“Of course, Sheriff Van Patten,” Oliver replied smoothly, and Van Patten held out his hand.
“Please, call me Nicholas.”
Oliver had been about to answer when more cars poured onto the front lawn. People raced from their vehicles and ran over to his family, with Virginia Harrington leading the group. Jaime gawked at the assembly. Over two dozen townsfolk had come. The Harringtons, Litchfields, Whitmores, Milburys and Van Pattens were all mixed in the crowd to boot.
***
Oliver stared in amazement at the crowd. Virginia Harrington raced over and hugged her son and William hard. Shelly Litchfield, an EMT, tended William by her truck, and Larry Whitmore wrapped a blanket around a wet, shivering Joy Temple. All around him, the descendants of the murderers of his young ancestors lent aid to his family. He saw Edith Goodwin passing blankets to Singh and the household staff, and he nearly fell over as he watched Evelyn St. Martin handing out coffee to Dathan and Nakajima. All about him, the people of Maquintock Bay rallied around his family.
“Do you have a place to stay? It’s going to be quite some time before you can come back to the house.” Van Patten jotted down notes on his pad as he spoke.
“I can take two!” Evelyn St Martin shouted out.
“I can put up three at my house!” Meghan Milbury yelled from beside his brother Duncan.
“Five can stay at my inn. I’ve got open rooms,” Angus Litchfield said as he rumbled by them, carrying sandwiches.
Oliver blinked hard. “You’re all helping us? I--I thought you hated us.”
Deputy Ernest Milbury paused from talking on his phone. “Never hated you and yours. And besides, when people need help, we come together. Maquintock Bay takes care of its own—all of its folk.”
Warm arms circled his waist as Donovan molded his body to Oliver’s back. Warm lips touched his ears, and Donovan whispered, “See? Deep down, people are genuinely good.”
Oliver clutched his arms and nodded. Van Patten shouted at some of his deputies and strode off to take charge of the scene. All around him, the residents of Maquintock Bay continued to lend aid to his family. The shouts of the firemen, the murmurs of medical personnel, and the hum of activity around him told him that his family was not alone. We never were.
Oliver sighed, and his eyes widened. All around the people of Maquintock Bay, magic shimmered and danced only visible to his eyes. It’s my curse! The magic swirled and faded as the last curse of the Oswald brothers became a memory.
Epilogue
Oliver sipped his coffee and read another excerpt from the local paper. The explosion at Oswald House had been front page news. The story unfolded, and Oliver smiled as he read how a large decaying gas main had ignited and blown up a portion of the house. It also blew up the patio and followed along the back grounds to the main road over a mile away. What the story didn’t say was that he, Mags, and Bea had tweaked the perceptions of the reporter, police, and emergency personnel to fit their version of the events.
It hadn’t been a gas main explosion, but the ignition of methane along the underground catacombs leading from the main house to an exit point just off Briancliff road. The entire labyrinth of catacombs blew skyward and collapsed, burying the last of the ghouls that may have survived the explosion. Crews repaired the earth in and around the holes, and Harrington Construction led the reconstruction of Oswald House, despite Ford Harrington’s disapproval.
Oliver frowned at the thought of Ford Harrington. His disapproval of William and Rush had divided the Harrington family and the business. Oliver guessed it was only a matter of time before Rush struck out on his own and would most likely take Hannah and half the workers at Harrington Construction, Inc., with him. The screech of saws and pop, pop, pop of nail guns found their way even to the guest quarters where he and Donovan currently resided.
After the fires were put out and the rest of the house deemed safe for occupancy, the Oswald-Blackthornes returned to their beleaguered family home. The entire basement and pool were a lost, as were most of the mechanisms that heated and cooled the house. The kitchen, nook, dining room, and parlor were gone, as well as the conservatory. All the bedrooms in the west wing were gone as well. William and Rush’s room and Duncan, Oliver, and Jaime’s rooms were so much rubble now. The Grand Ballroom sustained damage, as did the Grand staircase. Hell, nearly all the windows were blown out!
Jaime and Duncan were living in the east wing’s third floor. It hadn’t been finished, but it was better than nothing. Aunt Reeka returned to her chambers, which were relatively intact. William and Rush resided in the guest wing with Oliver and Donovan. Luckily, the servants’ quarters suffered from only broken windows and mild smoke damage. Those thick stone walls throughout the house buffered and dispersed most of the explosion.
Life returned to Oswald House, and the family licked it wounds and moved forward. Dathan and his pack left a few days after the fire. While Dathan refused to remove Donovan’s exile, he confirmed the alliance between the Earth and the Water Clans. Donovan refused to admit it hurt that his brother banished him from the pack, but he had Oliver and his family, and that was enough for him.
Donovan had been instrumental in identifying the leader of the attack. It had been the Creature. Donovan had shifted to full wolf and scented out the culprit. After comparing notes with Mags and Oliver, they had concluded the Creature had mobilized the ghouls to attack the house. Aunt Mags’ anger had radiated off of her, and Oliver began a systematic documentation of every section of the house using old records, new images, and Donovan’s nose. By the end of the month, every inch of Oswald land would be warded against magical incursion.
Nothing was going to take them by surprise again, if he had anything to say about it. He checked his phone for the time. Detective Mike Wirzbowski was due any moment. The detective had arrived only yesterday and asked to speak with him. While not the most opportune time, Oliver agreed to see him.
It was not a good time at all. Due to the events at Oswald House and the injuries sustained by the current Keeper, Margaret Oswald, the Ascension trials had been postponed until the next full moon rise, over a month away. Oliver sighed. He was ready, or at least he thought so. At any rate, the day of the trials was fast approaching.
“’Morning.” A growled welcome came from behind his ear. He would have jumped, startled, if he hadn’t sensed his bondmate coming up behind him.
“Good morning.” Oliver leaned his head back and accepted Donovan’s languid kiss. Each day was better than the last, each moment stronger and more loving. His love for Donovan eclipsed all his expectations, and the love his shifter showered on him made him giddy at times.
They were in the servants’ dining room. The servants’ wing had the only working kitchen and dining room, so the family snugged in and shared the space. Right now, Duncan sat across from him eating his fruit, chatting with Ming and Elizabeth. William and Rush were arguing good-naturedly about the renovation and his aunt breezed by with a large mug of tea. Karina and Singh had already finished eating and had hurried off to start their morning duties.
Tjeed and Sal bustled about with food and drink and served as they ate themselves.
“Ew,” Jaime teased. “Enough mushy stuff.”
“I can’t help it, Curly.” Oliver grinned. “I love my Big, Bad Wolf.”
Groans emanated from several people, and Donovan raspberried them.
“What are you two arguing about?” Donovan asked William and Rush.
“He’s trying to take space from my office to expand his closet,” Rush harrumphed.
“Our closet, Harrington. Our closet,” William smirked and yelped when Rush pinched his nipple.
“Nice try, blondie, but I know better. You want more room for more shoes.”
“I lost all my shoes in the explosion.”
“You don’t have to replace them all!” Rush argued.
“I—” William never completed his sentence when a white-faced Karina barreled into the room.
“Mr. William, there’s someone at the door,” she wheezed.
“Who is it, Karina?” William asked, and he and Oliver both stood up.
“Mr. Singh asked me to fetch you.” She bit her lip and glanced over at Duncan.
William rose, and Oliver followed him to the main entry. Mr. Singh stood grim-faced within the second entrance talking to a young man. As they drew closer, Oliver got a better look at the visitor. The young man was tall, maybe five-foot ten, and very lean with wide shoulders. He was dressed in jeans and a deep red, short-sleeved shirt. He spun to face them as they approached. To say the man was beautiful was an understatement. He was East Indian and had the smoothest sable skin. His jet-black hair was styled in a short spike, and a perfectly shaped goatee framed lush, full lips. Dark brown eyes were surrounded by thick lashes and capped with two full brows.
“I was just telling the young man I don’t know who he is, but he insisted I call you all to the door.” Singh eyed the man dubiously.
“Hello, and welcome to Oswald House. I’m William Oswald Blackthorne. How can we help you?”
The man opened his mouth to answer, then stopped when he caught sight of someone behind them and cried out, “Duncan!”
Oliver and William pivoted as they followed his gaze. Their brother had joined them and stood about twenty feet from the group. The young man raced across the room and slammed into Duncan, crying and hugging him. Duncan stood ramrod stiff, shocked by the man’s effusive display.
“You can’t just walk in here like you own the place!” William shouted.
Oliver came closer to the two men as Duncan said stiffly, “Who are you?”
The man’s tear-stained face pulled back, and Oliver saw hurt in the dark eyes. The full lips quivered as he spoke.
“Duncan…it’s me, Zeke.”
Oliver heard William gasp, and his own stomach fell. Duncan, meanwhile, disentangled himself from “Zeke” a
nd backed away, shaking his head.
“I don’t know who you are,” he whispered. “I’ve never met you before.”
“Please, my love. It’s me, Zeke. I came back to be with you.” The dark eyes shimmered with tears.
“No. No!” Duncan screamed and clutched his head as he crumpled to the floor.
The end…
.
