Familial Horrors

Jean spent his last few hours at home with Celezar, comforting him. The hybrid hadn't taken the news well, trying and failing in his attempt not to cry out of frustration for most of the night, breaking Jean's heart one tear at a time. They cuddled until dawn.

Opening his eyes, Jean immediately looked at his mate in his arms. Lying atop him, Celezar was already awake, tracing the scars on his bare chest. Taking notice of his waking, the hybrid emitted a sigh while sitting up without prompt. Jean followed, watching him stare at the bedsheets.

He slowly took Jean's hands and gently tugged him off the bed. They left their room hand-in-hand and entered their children's bedroom to watch them sleep. Sometime the night before, Rhumael brought them back from the beach but was kind enough not to interrupt their time together.

The soft, steady breathing of their children didn't help Jean feel any better. He would leave soon, and they hadn't been home long; he would go without saying goodbye to them.

"You...should get ready," Celezar whispered, letting go of his hand. Before Jean could say anything else, the older man walked quietly into the room and sat beside their children's bed. His eyes remained locked on them, telling Jean he wanted a moment alone.

His empty hand felt cold. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned around and entered the hall, gently closing the door behind him.

He rested against it, exhaling a shaky breath.

I have to retire.

Holding this thought in his mind, he returned to his room with the intentions to take a shower.

He wasn't surprised when Celezar did not join him but it stung regardless. Standing in the shower, with the water beating down on him, he found his thoughts empty. It only exacerbated the feeling of emptiness inside.

After exiting, he dried and redressed in the bathroom. Returning to his room, he looked over himself in his armoire mirror. With one hand, he brushed his fingers over the largest scar on his body, the one that ran from his hairline to the middle of his chest.

He could hear his mate's words in his mind. Gratuitous, pleading apologies. Sad green eyes as lithe fingers touched up and down his diagonal scar. Dark tears that rolled down freckled skin. His eyes closed. He could almost feel Celezar's hands stroking him, hear murmurs of regret.

With a sigh, he left the room.

He blinked upon entering the small hall. Celezar stood further away in the threshold of the kitchen entrance, arms crossed and eyes lowered.

"Well, love," he said softly, "I hope to see you soon..."

Jean's expression slightly fell, a humorless smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He looked away as he opened the hall panel with his weapons in them.

"Yeah...Soon. I'll make sure I come back even if I have to fight for it," he said softly.

A similar smile formed on Celezar's face. "Don't do anything stupid, Jean," he murmured. "I don't want you coming back with more, intentional scars..."

Jean doubted he would take it that far. The thought was slightly appealing if not foolish. Anyone would know he was getting injured intentionally and even more so since it was rare for him to obtain severe injuries over the past few years.

He sighed. "You know me better..." Once done with his weapons, belts, and vials, he slowly neared and slid an arm around his mate.

Celezar unwound, arms falling to his sides. He still didn't raise his head, but he nodded. "Yeah. Just making sure..." He peeked up from behind his locks to meet Jean's eyes.

The look given to him told him more than Jean expected, making a genuine smile creep onto his face. With a chuckle, he brought Celezar closer and used his free hand to part the auburn curtain, planting a kiss on the freckled forehead. "You kind of want me to do that, don't you?"

Shoulders dropping, Celezar slowly nodded. "It's a selfish little thing, love. If I had my way you wouldn't be going back at all. Ever."

"Agreed." With his head, he bumped against his mate's and raised it, hovering his lips over the parting mouth.

A soft, cool sigh brushed against his skin. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He gently gave him a tender, chase kiss that his mate melted into, leaning against him. He brushed the back of his hand down the side of the hybrid's face, unwilling to move away.

But he had to.

Exhaling softly, he parted. The corner of Celezar's mouth quirked up in a slight smile. Jean was then playfully shoved away, the smile growing. "Now, get going before I keep you here."

Jean also managed a smile, turning away.

He walked down the stairs to the landing, placing a hand on the doorknob. He took a moment to gather himself, then opened the door.

* * *

The boat ride back to the isle was quiet and solemn, but every return trip to Isle Veni was depressing. Cold, almost. Perhaps it was the weather changing. Or, and this was far more likely, it was that he steeled himself for the inevitable bitterness he felt and was soon to feel towards his birth family. That coldness was familiar, if not unwanted.

He sighed as the isle came into view. There it was in all its splendor, the ancestral home of the Lowells for over 200 years. His eyes narrowed. Quite literally almost all of the Lowells lived there, including the "tainted" side. The few Lowells who didn't weren't too far into the mainland. In fact, they lived no farther from Isle Veni than Iroquin.

Much to his dismay.

Another deep exhale emitted from him. He knew Halle wished to say something, but his older cousin remained quiet.

And the isle menacingly approached.

The boat made berth at Isle Veni's main eastern docks. He would have taken his bike to the manor, but he was surprised to see a small horse-drawn carriage waiting for him.

He nodded cordially at the servant before entering the carriage with his bag. There was a family reunion in a few months. Hopefully no one died. His frown deepened, but he rested back in the seat.

He was exiting the carriage and walking into the pristine white palace-like manor in what felt like mere moments. As he approached, he glanced at the pillars at the entrance, the large, off-blue double doors. Somehow the manor's tall entrance itself was imposing. Upon hitting the landing, the doors opened, revealing the bright light of the foyer. Standing at the center, and thus in the center of the alchemic symbol marked in the foyer's middle, was a male servant dressed as a butler.

"Hello, Nyree," he greeted, then beckoned to the stairs. "Mother wants to see me?"

The servant nodded, then disappeared. Jean took a moment to huff, then strode down the middle corridor. Glancing up, he saw other servants moving to and fro within the halls above. They were too busy for him to even nod at.

The reminder he had yet to find a way to undo the curse, as he called it, upon his cousins the Kajut Lowells greatly bothered him. His upper lip twitched in the beginnings of a scowling snarl, but he quickly composed himself, turning into the first room at the right of the hall.

The first to grace his view was the back of the couch upon which his mother and uncle sat beside each other facing the fireplace, yet none of his brothers were present. Hugh stood near the fireplace, a glass of alcohol in hand and looking positively anxious.

A servant wearing a suit stood before them, and upon seeing Jean, the servant bowed his head while conversation cut off. Jean briefly eyed him, unable to recall seeing him before.

Without being told, he sat in the third couch facing an empty one and leaned forward. He noticed there was a large decanter of alcohol on the coffee table along with an open folder containing several loose papers.

It was far too early to be drinking.

"Where is Tristan?" he asked.

"Busy," said Ulrich as he entered the room. "I just barely made it." He moved to sit beside Jean with a huff.

"Continue, Schon," Friedrich ordered the servant, "and bring them up to speed." He downed a glass of alcohol.

Raising his head, Schon's yellow eyes remained lowered towards the floor. "This week, I conducted my continuous search for information on Miss Nadelyn Lowell's passing in a small town within Mēxihco. There, in a city park, I saw a girl who is undoubtedly a Lowell child. My blood responded to her presence, and she responded to me in turn."

Jean's heart jumped to his throat. His gaze bore into Schon, and he only eased off when his inhuman eyes caught his cousin's minuscule fidget under his scrutiny.

Schon continued, "I have no doubts that she is the missing Lowell daughter. However, she isn't seventeen, as she should be. She is seven years old, yet her name is Patiel."

Wide, mismatched blue eyes grew larger, and Jean sharply inhaled.

Patiel. That was the name Hugh and Jean's late sister, Nadelyn, had planned to give their unborn daughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hugh shut his eyes and take another drink of alcohol.

How the hell...?

"Miss Patiel's guardian is a man named Antonio Alighieri," Schon explained before Jean could ask.

A sheet of paper passed to Jean from Friedrich. Taking it into his hands, Jean quickly scanned it with Ulrich but lingered on the picture of a man with platinum white hair, white eyelashes, pale skin, and pale blue eyes. His was a haunting, ethereal look.

Antonio...Alighieri? Jean glanced away in thought. The name was distantly familiar.

"He is a...supposed inhuman hunter from Mēxihco but is not native to the continent." Schon finally glanced briefly at them. "My research procured no evidence of another inhuman hunter family named Alighieri at any period in history save for those from Víteliú."

"And they're dead," said Hugh, his voice almost bitter. "All of them. Every hunter worth their salt knows that."

"Correct, Master Hugh." Schon nodded. "I said such to this Antonio, and he insinuated he is of that family."

Jean frowned.

Schon remained silent for a moment, as if allowing everyone to digest this information. He then said, "I checked the girl's living conditions and her living surroundings." He briefly pursed his lips, something Hugh clearly caught as he scowled.

"And?" Hugh demanded.

"This Antonio Alighieri...is...perhaps an alcoholic."

As Jean covered his eyes, he heard Hugh emit a sharp exhale. "Explain!"

"Within his--their--home were notable empty bottles of alcohol around the living room. I was allowed a look into the pantry, cabinets, and refrigerator. They were clean but more alcohol, unopened, lay inside..."

"How are her living conditions, otherwise?" Hugh asked, his voice tense and angry. "Did you see her room?"

"Yes, and she has a clean, tidy room...and the apparent affinity for pink and things she finds cute."

Jean slightly lowered his hands from his face, a miniscule smile fighting to form on his lips. That much was normal, and a relief.

But if the slight tensing of Schon's body meant anything, it was going to get worse from here.

"Mr. Alighieri does seem to be a sort of hunter, but whether the body parts of inhumans on the walls of his living room are legitimate catches or purchases, I cannot tell."

Jean's upper lip twitched with distaste, his face scrunched. That was tacky, and dangerous. If they weren't behind glass or some other covering, their demonic auras would leech out. It was something an ignorant showoff would do; even a rookie inhuman hunter would know better.

"However...the most shocking thing about my visit," said Schon, "was that they both spoke some demonic dialect to each other."

Jean's head snapped up to stare at his cousin. Even Schon appeared a tad concerned.

"That's enough," Friedrich growled out, waving a hand to silence Schon. He ran both hands down his face, then shook his head. "This is unacceptable. Unacceptable!"

His words boomed in the space, and they seemed to bring a silence that lasted for several seconds. During this time, Jean attempted to rationalize what he heard. Doing so brought a memory to mind.

"Akhdar," he said, bringing eyes to him. "He knows someone named Antonio. I'll talk to him."

"That man," Ulrich scoffed with a scowl. "Never liked him. He has a lot to answer to."

Jean briefly glanced at his younger brother, agreeing with him on one aspect.

Hamza had much to answer to.

The meeting shortly concluded, and Jean stood with all intentions to rip his friend a new one. As he walked down the hall leading back to the foyer, he again tried to rationalize a reason why Hamza would keep such knowledge from him. He did come to one conclusion.

Hamza might not have known about the girl. This worsened Jean's worry when he considered this could mean the girl may have been in Antonio's care for only a few years. The implications of that made him shudder.

He wasted no time, taking the carriage back to the Cellar with Hugh. During the ride, neither he nor his brother-in-law said anything. Hugh looked to be beside himself, hands wringing as he sat forward in evident deep thought, while Jean sat with crossed arms.

Jean all but stormed out of the carriage after it stopped before the Cellar entrance with Hugh close behind. He entered and immediately turned right, entering his office. While the door closed behind him, he approached his desk. In the antechamber, he heard Hugh shouting, likely at whichever member of their group was unfortunate enough to be near.

Picking up the phone, Jean dialed Hamza's number, hoping to Creation that the man was in his outpost. The dial tone nearly grated his nerves, but he only had three rings to wait before someone picked up.

"Kahasülh Outpost, Ranea speaking," a familiar feminine voice answered.

"Ranea, it's Jean-Luc." Jean turned to lean against the desk. "I have to speak to Hamza; is he there?"

"Ah, Jean. Yes, he's here."

"Thank you."

There was only a short silence before a masculine voice said, "Jean. How can I help?"

Inhaling deeply, Jean decided to be cordial. "I just received disturbing news about the whereabouts of a family member. They are living with someone named Antonio Alighieri."

"Oh? This is news to me..."

Pursing his lips, this was exactly what Jean had hoped not to hear.

"I've only met Antonio's sister, Serafina...She's an inhuman hunter like him. What's the matter?"

"The Lowell living with him is a seven-year-old named Patiel. She's my niece--or at least, she must be my niece." Jean's brows furrowed. "But she should be a teenager."

"I imagine you wish to bring her from him..."

Jean frowned. It wasn't a question. "Of course. One of my cousins met him and relayed some disturbing things about him. For instance, he appears to be an alcoholic?"

"Ah..." Hamza sounded concerned. "Yes...I've known him for over a decade now, but he's a rather private man. He's also inhuman, if you remember."

"Yes." Jean's frown intensified. "A half-devil, you said."

"Yes, but he's a good man..."

"I hear hesitance, Hamza."

There was a soft, sighing exhale. "Antonio, he...From what I understand, he had a...wretched upbringing. Yes, it has left him an alcoholic, but an inhuman alcoholic is not the same as a human one."

"Does it matter?" Jean drummed the desk with the fingers of his free hand.

"It does, in his case. I don't know the details. From my many interactions with him, I have noticed things."

"Such as?"

"He is possessive."

Jean rubbed his forehead. Fuck.

"And he's protective of his family. If indeed he is raising a Lowell child or has her in his care, it isn't out of malicious intent."

"Are you meaning to tell me he might have kept her with him despite knowing she's a Lowell?"

"Yes. Undoubtedly."

Jean didn't immediately respond, pinching his nose bridge. He then said, "Is there anything else I should know about him?"

Hamza didn't respond immediately, either. After a moment, he made a sound that may have been one of worry or hesitance. "He has a mate, a sister, as I said, and a nephew I've never met..." More hesitant silence. "Antonio, however is also..."

Jean waited as his friend tried to explain, drumming the desk once more.

"He's young, in inhuman years. 250s, if I remember. I say that not to give him slack but to know he's...not..." Hamza huffed. "I truly hate to say it, but he's not mentally or emotionally stable. His upbringing seemed to have terribly scarred him.."

Covering his eyes, Jean groaned. "I'd hate to know how you found that out..."

"Yeah, it wasn't pretty..."

"So. My niece is in the company of an unstable, young nephilim who also happens to be an alcoholic." Jean lowered his hand. "Is there any way you can arrange a meeting for us with him?"

"I think he'd be agreeable to that."

"Agreeable?"

"He's not a horrible man, Jean. I can say for certain, he hasn't done anything to your niece that would cause worry. Whatever your cousin has told you, I don't know, but he carries great guilt on his shoulders already. Knowing your niece's family has found her would likely cause him to...give in, so to speak."

Jean tried to take this into consideration, remaining silent.

A sigh. "I'll contact him immediately. Please be careful, Jean. Antonio is one of my best friends, but I worry about him."

Closing his eyes, Jean could only nod. "Very well. Thank you, Hamza."

"Of course. Take care."

"Likewise."

He hung up with another, deeper sigh while running a hand down his face. The warning given to him was also likely due to only one thing.

If the meeting went south, Antonio could raze the isle to the ground.

"Great," Jean muttered, looking off to stare at the wall. "Just great..."

He took some time thinking, digesting what was told to him. He doubted a man as private as Antonio would freely explain his backstory, but Jean knew his family would mercilessly prod and pry to know every little thing about the nephilim.

Then, there was Hugh.

Fuck...

Jean winced, letting his eyes close. He had to inform his brother-in-law of the news.

Moving from the desk, he cracked the door open and peeked into the antechamber. Hugh wasn't shouting anymore, sitting at the counter and staring at nothing, it seemed. The television wasn't on. Beside him was Friedrich, back from spending a bit more time in the manor.

Opening the door, Jean began to approach the bar. "I've news," he announced.

Friedrich and Hugh turned to face him, expectant. Hugh's face was drawn, but fortunately not flushed.

With a sigh, Jean sat on Hugh's left side and leaned against the counter. He met the brown eyes. "Akhdar is arranging a meeting between us and Antonio."

"Good. Man's good for something," Hugh muttered into a mug. From what Jean could smell, it wasn't alcohol but water.

Giving him a look, Jean sighed, "He didn't know, Hugh. Antonio seems to be a private man."

The older man huffed but said nothing.

In truth, Jean was glad Hugh wasn't taking the news as badly as he thought he would. Yes, he drank a bit and had his deserved fit, but the man was unusually calm.

Perhaps too calm.

Whatever this meant when the nephilim himself arrived at the manor, Jean hadn't a clue. He would be at his brother-in-law's side through it all, regardless--for better or worse.