by SJ Himes
No otherworldly beauty, either male or female stood out in the passing citizenry, and Simeon let it go. At least he hadn’t picked up the scent of a werewolf—the wet fur smell was hard to forget.
Chapter Three
Wrecking The Curve
“So what did you get them?” Milly asked, compact up in front of her face as she repaired her already pristine lipstick. Her makeup was impeccable, and Angel wondered if he was just missing something. He shrugged mentally, and went back to work on his laptop, checking paid invoices against outstanding bills.
“I got Daniel a sweater like mine that I’ll show him how to weather-proof,” Angel said, distracted by numbers and bills. He was better at math than Milly, and always ended up balancing the ledger at the end of the month. They could afford an accountant, but Milly said it was a waste as it was just the two of them in their private tutoring school, and Angel had trust issues. He wasn’t comfortable with a stranger, no matter how qualified, having access to their joint funds and personal information. “It was Simeon’s idea. Said the kiddo was my apprentice, and it would be a cool thing to do.”
“And Isaac?” she said, snapping the compact closed and putting it into her Prada purse. Their desks faced each other across the room, a small seating area between them. The room wasn’t huge, so he could see her glare quite easily from his desk.
“Ummm….” Angel slid down in his chair, trying to hide behind the screen.
“Angelus Raine Salvatore, did you flake off on Isaac’s present?” Milly demanded, and he flinched as she dropped all three of his names.
“No?” Angel tried to say, then sighed, hands falling to his lap and he dropped his head back, slouching in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling and sighed even louder, frustrated. “Yeah. I have no idea what to get him. I would usually get him a video game or something, but I’m trying not to treat him like a kid. I think part of our problems now are I got so used to him being a kid I’m responsible for that I can’t see the man he is now, so that’s ruined all my previous experience. I literally have no idea.”
Silence from his partner. Angel sat up, peeking over the top of the laptop. Milly had a perfectly manicured fingertip to her lips, her wide eyes glistening with tears. Angel blinked, and sat up some more, scooting his chair over so he could see her better. “Um…you okay?”
Milly was rarely emotional, unless she was mad. So when his partner stood, ran across the room in her extra-high heels, and fell into his lap and squeezed the ever-loving shit outta him, Angel was shocked. He hugged her back, of course, but he was clueless as to what to do when she sniffled and pressed sticky kisses to his face. “Um, Milly? What the fuck?”
“You adorable little asshole,” she sniffled, peppering his hair with firm kisses while he squawked indignantly. “I have been waiting for you to have that epiphany since Isaac turned twenty-one and started going out on his own. Took you fucking long enough. I swear, I’ve never seen a more ingenious sorcerer, but when it comes to family and relationships you need a swift kick in the ass.”
“Thanks, mum,” Angel sighed, and she finally stood, ruffling his hair and making it stand straight up. The top was getting long, and he was thinking about cutting it, but Simeon liked to grab it while fucking him, so he could learn to deal with the longer length.
“So an epiphany warrants getting mauled?” Angel groused, and Milly flicked the tip of his nose with a manicured nail. “Ouch! Daggers! You have daggers, not nails!”
“The better to punish you with, my dear,” Milly stated primly, and Angel made a face in her direction as she returned to her desk. “As long as you keep in mind that Isaac is an adult and not your responsibility anymore, then you two should find your way back to each other.”
“Were we that bad?” Angel asked, looking at the time on his cell. It was 5pm, and they were done for the day. On Mondays they stayed in the office of their fourth floor suite until 5pm every week so that prospective students had a reliable window for one or both of them to be present for walk ins. He shut his laptop with a soft snap and stood, grabbing his cell and keys.
Angel pocketed his stuff and opened the top left drawer of his desk, pulling out his malachite and damask steel athame and its spine scabbard. He took a spare moment to toss it on, the hilt pointing down, the blade nestled along the curve of his spine and lower back, letting him move either of his hands from hip height to withdraw the blade instead of reaching over his shoulder. It would be invisible under his coat, and his weather-proof sweater was long and thick enough to hide the scabbard and blade. Milly had long since stopped commenting on him carrying the weapon full-time now instead of saving it for high sorcery and structured casting. Angel could fight without the blade, but having it made things easier. It was sharp enough to score stone and keep its edge, and was highly reactive and sensitive to his magic, augmenting his power.
“Yes, dear, you were both that bad. Isaac resents you for some reason, and you were so focused on treating him like your ward instead of your brother you forgot how to interact. You’re a smart man,” Milly snarked at him, and Angel heard the old Boston accent she worked so diligently to hide creep back in as she got worked up, “but you’re denser than a rock when it comes to your brother. You can get inside any of our students’ heads and unravel their issues in only a few sessions, but Isaac is your blind spot.”
Milly and Angel were specialist tutors—they only taught sorcerer-ranked students, and those students had to either be graduates from one of the magical schools, or students taught privately who outgrew what their families and tutors could teach or provide. Sorcerer was the only rank out of the tiered practitioner hierarchy of power that could touch and access the veil. That was a skill not taught in most magical schools until the final year, and two semesters in tapping the veil was insufficient in making sure students had more than a grip on the basics. Angel’s bloodlines and history, along with Milly’s experience as former instructor at one of the premiere magical schools in the country, guaranteed they had young, fresh out of school sorcerers knocking on their door every few weeks. It was mostly parents sending their children to Angel and Milly’s door, and they charged accordingly. Angel knew combative magic, both defensive and offensive, and Milly was an exceptional teacher, able to provide a strong framework in the more technical side of casting and spell work.
Milly followed his lead, and Angel had an odd sense of déjà vu. It wasn’t that long ago he opened the door of their office to find his murdered mentor August left in the stairwell, seconds after he was flayed open by Deimos. Angel paused, swallowing, his heart beating harder in his chest before he calmed himself. He breathed as evenly as he could, then left their inner office into the common room. Their suite had several rooms; two workrooms that were heavily warded and shielded for active magic use, their inner office that doubled as a research library, and a central common area, that had a lone small conference room with a kitchenette. They even lucked out and had a unisex bathroom, which Isaac decorated years ago in garish purples and greens. Angel joked it was the one place a frustrated student would never spend too much time in, as it was guaranteed to drive anyone out in seconds.
Isaac was in the common room, and Angel was surprised to see his brother. Isaac came with him most days, and hung out with their students between lessons, but he usually left before Angel or Milly, bored by the end of the day. He’d even taken to helping some of the more difficult cases, and it was Isaac who eventually got Samuel Serfano to ditch taking lessons with his older brother and take them one on one with Angel instead. Samuel quickly outstripped his older brother and passed the trials Angel set for him. Samuel graduated with ease, and his older brother Mark left Angel’s tutelage in a huff. Angel didn’t care all that much—Mark was an adult, and he was his own worst enemy, and his education and what happened with it were solely his own responsibility. Angel tried, and that’s all that mattered in the end. Samuel went on to better things.
“What’s up?” Angel asked his brother, stupidly nervous all of a sudden. Milly’s words about treating Isaac as a brother and not a kid were echoing in his head, and Angel felt awkward. It was like they were strangers, never mind living together.
“There’s nothing to eat at home,” Isaac grumbled. “Daniel went to see his dad, and I’m hungry.”
“Daniel went to see Leicester?” Angel asked, surprised again. Isaac nodded with a half-shrug, unconcerned.
“He got a text from his old man’s servant or something. I didn’t ask.”
Daniel rarely talked about his father, aside from mentioning he was fine. For Daniel to go visit his father was surprising, and Angel had to make himself relax. Leicester may be a neglectful and oblivious parent, but from what he gathered from Daniel’s few comments, the former head of the Macavoy clan wasn’t abusive or dangerous. At least not to his son. He hoped that was the truth, he really hoped, and though he asked after Leicester to be polite, Daniel said no more than that his father was the same.
Angel wasn’t stupid enough to go visit his family’s once most powerful enemy. He had Daniel in his care now, and that was enough for Angel—as long as Daniel came back. If Daniel didn’t come back, Angel was going to do something stupid, like getting his apprentice himself.
“There’s food in the fridge. Did you just not want to cook?”
“Yeah, Blondie left an hour ago,” Isaac replied, flopping down on one of the leather couches in the common area. “He said he would be back late and not to wait up for him. I’m hungry. I want pizza.”
“Ooohhh, pizza sounds divine,” Milly said as she left the office and shut and locked the door. Since Deimos left a body on their front step they’d taken to locking each room individually and then the outer office door. Angel backed up a step and put a hand on the wooden panel, revving up the powered-down wards that protected their office records and the books they kept inside. The wards came to life with a hum and a near audible snap, and he pulled his hand away and grinned at Milly.
“Want Luciano’s or Declan pizza?” Angel asked, and Isaac jumped up with a whoop. “Isaac and I can get the pizza and meet you at your place in an hour.”
“Luciano’s! Luci has the best dough,” Isaac opined as he grabbed his jacket and all but ran for the outer door. “I already warded the other rooms. Let’s go!”
“The Bottomless Pit has given us our marching orders,” Angel chuckled, pleased to see Isaac excited, even if it was about pizza. “We’ll grab the pie and some soda. Pepperoni and black olives?”
“You know me so well,” Milly smiled as they left the office after getting their coats, and Angel fought back the same sense of déjà vu as they went down the stairs. Milly clung to Angel’s arm as they descended, her black and red heels clicking on the hardwood steps. Four flights later they were on the snowy street, and Isaac was flagging down two taxis. Milly paused on the sidewalk, her timeless face startled as she looked across the street from where Isaac was holding open a taxi’s door.
“What’s wrong?” Angel asked, putting a hand on her back. She jumped a bit, but gave him a brilliant smile and walked to the cab.
“Nothing, dear. I just thought I saw someone I knew. I was mistaken,” she kissed Isaac on the cheek and got in the cab. “I’ll see you boys soon.”
Angel waved as Isaac shut the door and the cab pulled away. Isaac sprinted back to the other cab, and Angel looked up and down the street, curious as to what spooked his partner. He saw nothing out of place, cars and pedestrians braving the bad weather as the workday wound down, and headed for the second cab. Isaac was already in the back and giving the driver directions to Luciano’s Pizzeria. He got in and shut the door, thankful for the heater on full blast. It was getting colder and colder, and snow was falling in increasing amounts. They might be late getting to Milly’s if the weather continued to worsen.
Isaac was playing on his cell, and Angel took out his own, smiling when he saw a text from Simeon.
I am attending the Master this evening. We have several fledglings rising tonight and the presence of an Elder is needed. I love you. —S
Angel replied, smiling the whole time.
With Isaac. Getting pizza and heading to Milly’s for supper. Love you too. Text me if you’re staying overnight? –AS
I shall. Be safe, and my best to Milly. –S
Angel was about to put his cell away when it buzzed again.
I left the window in the bathroom cracked open for Eroch. The pigeons were back on the fire escape. –S
Angel chuckled. Eroch was in a protracted and surely futile battle with the city’s pigeon population. Eroch was very territorial, and the pigeons were now his arch nemesis. Angel gave up trying to moderate the scrabble one evening when he found his wee beastie surrounded by the flamed and scorched remains of a dozen pigeons, the tiny dragon fat and happy and smug as shit after a victorious battle. Angel scolded him for leaving carcasses on the fire escape and told his familiar to make sure to wash off in the bathroom sink before coming to bed. Then he ran out into the hall and laughed his ass off. His dragon was probably going to get him in trouble with Animal Control, but it’s not like the birds went to waste. Eroch regularly ate them. Apparently they were his version of a delicacy.
Angel leaned back in the seat, and sighed, tired from a long day. He was thinking about changing the studio hours, and working more evenings since he was up all night. He would be able to sleep in longer in the mornings, and have more time outside of the apartment with Simeon after the sun went down. Having a vampire for a lover was hard on his rest schedule, no matter how well Simeon adapted to a mortal’s need for sleep.
Angel startled when Isaac slumped back, their shoulders touching. His not-so-little brother leaned on him, absorbed in the chirps from his cell app, seemingly oblivious to the fact he was all but snuggling with his older brother. Angel bit his lip, blinked hard a few times, and stared out the window, doing his best not to move and scare Isaac away, ignoring the way his athame dug into his back from his brother’s weight.
Milly’s townhouse was a brick monster that sat up off the street and reminded him of an old movie set. Red brick and iron lanterns lit the front and as Angel held the entranceway door for Isaac, who was carrying the food, mindful of the slick concrete steps. A small copper plaque darkened by exposure and time was engraved with M.M. Fontaine, A.S., and Angel smiled as he always did seeing the initials after her name. The space below her name was empty, the neighboring unit in the same townhouse uninhabited for years now. Milly owned the whole building, and hated having neighbors. The uncluttered foyer was tall, and had two doors on either side, and the door on the left was Milly’s multi-level part of the townhouse. Angel dug out his keys and approached her door, the metal clicks echoing around the empty space. It was barren and glaringly white from marble floors to the walls and ceilings, and it was immaculate and smelled like lemon cleanser. Old money all but screamed its presence from the paint and architecture, though Angel had nothing against wealth and living in luxury. The Salvatores and Fontaines were old magical clans, with centuries of wealth behind them and he was accustomed to Milly’s home.
It was usually immaculate, at least; Angel frowned down at the melting snow and slush puddles in front of Milly’s door, the welcome mat soaked. Footprints marred the pristine gloss of the stone flooring, and Angel wondered at the mess. Milly should have been home for the last hour, and the snow long melted; chunks were still intact in front of her door, and the footprints were made from a man’s boot, the size triple that of Milly’s dainty feet.
Angel paused, hand outstretched with his key to the door, but something warned him to wait. Whether an indistinct sound muffled through the wooden panel or some inner sense tingling away, caution had him dropping his hand and backing away.
“Angie? What’s up? The pizza’s gonna get cold,” Isaac whined from behind him, juggling
the two-liter of soda and the pizza box. “Milly knows we’re coming. Door should be unlocked.”
Angel blinked and looked at his partner’s front door warily, his inner vision sparking to life on its own—and he swore, pushing Isaac back from the door, heedless of the soda bottle bouncing off the floor and his brother’s complaints. He slid his athame free from its sheath along his spine and summoned hellfire to his hands.
“Milly isn’t the only one expecting us,” Angel said, anger rising to match the green flames snapping about his hands. Angel blessed Isaac’s affection for Milly—his little brother didn’t hesitate, his fiery red aura snapping to life around his shoulders in thin trails of flame and smoke in response to Angel’s actions.
There was a stranger in Milly’s townhouse, a sickly black and warped aura oozing malice and frustration. Her wards were down, most likely in preparation for their visit, and whoever had invaded her home must have forced his way in. Milly’s aura, a gray and yellow flow of liquid light, glimmered softly—her light was dimming. They needed to get inside, and now. The door wasn’t closed fully, and a sliver of light and movement came from under the gap. A gasp from Isaac told him his brother was using his inner sight and was seeing the same thing.
“Isaac, call for an ambulance,” Angel murmured, sidling up closer to the door. Isaac nodded his head and pulled out his cell, dialing 911. Angel waited until Isaac stammered out Milly’s address, and then he tensed. There was a foreign magic in Milly’s home, and Angel didn’t want to risk alerting the intruder to their presence by tapping the veil. Anyone ranked wizard or higher would sense him tapping the veil, and they’d lose the element of surprise. Angel focused, drawing in ambient magic, and kicked at the door, raising a kinetically-charged shield in front of him as he ran through the doorway.
