Last Link of a Chain

Several planes, jets and helicopters left the Memorraw outpost in the early morning of the next day. Among them was the Lowell jet, flying over the dark open land between the outpost and the city. It eventually flew above the cityscape, allowing its passengers to watch the activity and lights below.

However, Jean was still tired. Not debilitatingly so, or even to the point that he felt he needed sleep, but he slept anyway. His head lolled idly to the side as he rested in his seat, fingers laced in his lap. He dreamt of his little family, spurred on by the sight of Celezar. He saw his two infant daughters, his toddler fraternal twins, and his dear eldest son. He imagined Celezar swollen with their unborn children. Even in his sleep, he shivered.

He wondered what the children would look like. Blue eyes or green, like Celezar's? Auburn hair or blond like his? Twins or more? His little family was growing, and it always brought a sad smile to his face. Sometimes, and only sometimes, he wished he could spread the joy of having his own family with the rest of them, his human family...

The rumbling of descent brought him from his sleep. Stirring back to life, he opened his eyes to see Artie looking out the window beside him. Stretching slightly, Jean glanced over to see the lights of the Lowell manor and the distant lights of the Cellar. Then the view steadily moved to the brighter lights of the airport.

As the jet began to land, he strapped himself in, as did his cousin. Blue eyes turned to him.

"Had a nice nap?" Artie asked.

"Yeah. It was just what I needed." He readjusted in the seat.

Nodding, Artie looked back out the window.

As he did, Jean stared forward. His thoughts went to the upcoming family event in the manor. "What are your thoughts about the reunion?"

Humming, Artie glanced at him. "We haven't seen the extended family in, what, ten, fifteen years? I reckon it's going to be awkward. Antonio better be there, too..."

Watching his cousin's face slightly twist, Jean hummed in understanding.

"Then there's Aunt Hyacinth. We've never met her husband, never met her children..."

Jean let his thoughts stew as the jet landed. Taking his bag from its place in a secure slot, he moved to the door as the stairs lowered. He thanked the co-pilot and walked on the pavement towards the carriage awaiting him and Artie.

They entered with their bags in hand instead of giving them to the driver. Jean closed his eyes as the carriage moved, and he let the gentle rocking from riding over the terrain bring him to a state between sleep and awake.

He opened his eyes just as they arrived at the outpost. He spotted Hugh and Gulliver conversing outside. As the carriage neared, they focused on it, stopping their conversation. Jean and Artie exited, and nods of greeting were given to them.

"Gentlemen," Jean said, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Boss," said Gulliver. "How'd it go?"

Artie paused in thought, then his expression scrunched. "There were an unholy amount of inhumans present."

Jean closed his eyes, walking toward the staircase to put his bag back in the barracks. He blocked out Artie, Hugh, and Gulliver's gripes with a soft sigh as he arrived at the basement hall. Entering the shared room, he spotted Chaco resting in one of the bergères.

"Welcome back, Boss," the younger man said with a tired wave.

"Tough hunt?" Jean asked, placing his bag beside his bed.

"Aye...Most annoying."

"I'll get on that report, then." He was given another lazy wave, and he softly chuckled as he returned to the ground floor.

Gulliver was no longer present, leaving Hugh and Artie to bellyache at the counter. Jean passed a glance at them, and it was caught by his brother-in-law.

"By the by, your aunt Hyacinth is scheduled to arrive soon. She wants to arrive early, apparently."

Both Jean and Artie made expressions that almost looked like winces.

Hugh chuckled. "I see you two are just as excited as everyone else."

"Even Mother?" Jean asked.

"Perhaps most especially her."

Jean crossed his arms with a soft hum, standing near.

He didn't know the whole story between his mother and aunt, but knew his aunt didn't part on the best of terms with her sister. Hyacinth was the baby in the 8th Generation. The life of an alchemist wasn't her forte, as well as some other things Jean didn't know the details of, and so she left to do her own thing.

"Word from the top is that your aunt's husband is from a lesser-known family of magic users."

Leaning back, Jean blinked in surprise. Beside him, Artie made a soft scoff.

"Yeah. Seems your mother doesn't like that, for some reason, Jean."

Jean sighed, shifting weight to another foot. "The reason would be that she doesn't want the family to be 'tainted' by just any ol' blood. The only reason my father was even chosen to be her husband was because the Redfields are also an old family. Old blood, old traditions. I imagine from her reaction to this that my uncle is from a much younger family?"

"Yeah. It's maybe five generations old. Something about learning how to use magic from some unknown source." Hugh pursed his lips and shook his head. "It does sound unusual, even to me."

Artie once again made a scoff, this time with disdain. "Undoubtedly."

Jean glanced away in thought.

Hugh looked at Artie. "Anyway, what about Holloway?" he asked with a frown.

"It's his fault there's been a major influx of inhuman-born hunters. They're fucking everywhere," Artie hissed.

Hugh scowled. "Disgusting."

"Isn't it? Blasphemous; it can go on."

Before his cousin went on a tangent, Jean continued, "It's true, there's a shocking amount of inhuman hunters now part of other hunter groups. What I don't understand is why there would be so many when we aren't facing a crisis."

"Maybe during the incident with the devil they could've gotten away with being so brazen." Artie made a face at his own words, looking as if he'd eaten something foul. "But now? What the fuck's their excuse? They're working with them for the hell of it? Because they learned something? They'll regret it!"

"What's this about the Ridridge Incident?"

Coming up the staircase was Raphael and Sarkis. They both went to the bar, Sarkis behind it and Raphael sitting in a stool.

Artie was still scowling. "The meeting was fucking outrageous."

"Do tell." Raphael sat back, slipping a knife between his fingers.

Jean sighed to himself as his cousin gladly opened his mouth to start over.

"There are so many inhuman-born hunters about now, I could smell them. There's no reason for hunter groups to have inhuman members. None whatsoever. The government even gave non-magic-using groups technology that can replace the need of inhumans." Artie's scowl deepened. "Which doesn't make any fucking sense to me if Holloway himself is still using inhumans."

"Using them," Jean said softly.

"What?"

"They're being used. We don't even know if he really considers them true members of his group."

"Does it matter, though?" Sarkis asked.

"It fucking does not," Hugh growled.

Jean restrained himself from emitting a tired sigh. He slipped away from the conversation, entering his office to review the reports left for him. He left the door cracked, as always, but wished he didn't have to. He could so clearly hear the vehement conversation taking place outside his office. It was likely others would join in, eventually.

But, to his surprise, the angry conversation trailed from the antechamber and continued downstairs, leaving the ground floor mercifully quiet.

With a sigh, he reviewed the reports. With inhuman speed, he went through the papers, marking them as read with a red stamp in their lower right corner.

His reading speed slowed when he came to a report explaining his group had an encounter with a woman who had been seen with the high-class hybrid. Sitting forward, his eyes widened as he read.

The woman was a magic-user, believed to be a witch. She and Friedrich, who was fortunate enough to be on the hunt, had a direct confrontation, magic-user against magic-user. According to the report, Friedrich wouldn't have survived if not for the assistance of another hunter group that was also there, the Wisk Hunters, and the duo of shapeshifters who were working with them.

"Friedrich," Jean murmured, looking up from the paper to think.

Hugh didn't say anything about Friedrich or injuries, so his wounds mustn't have been too great. Or rather, perhaps not now.

Lowering his head, Jean continued reading.

His eyes narrowed. "'Megedagik and I agree the woman and the Infernal Lord are working together. She is not a victim, as we initially thought,'" he read aloud, "'unless she has been corrupted beyond salvation. Much like a Demon Lord, she effortlessly summoned several demons to her, including ones seen from Roanoke and Mercer.'"

He winced. He despised those egg-bearing hellions.

Putting the paper down, he brushed his hand over his beard in thought.

If this woman was powerful enough that even Friedrich, who, prior to Jean becoming inhuman, was the strongest magic-user in the group, had trouble, she could make a formidable foe. Even moreso if she was only playing with Friedrich, which Jean had the strangest inkling is exactly why there were any survivors from her attack at all.

He slightly grimaced with a deep exhale. Creation help us.

* * *

The weeks passed in an uncannily quiet succession of events before Hyacinth Lowell finally arrived a day before the reunion on Isle Veni. December was appropriately cold, snow stuck strongly to the ground, and reports of snowstorms in the area had become commonplace.

Jean awoke early, like every other day, but instead of remaining in the Cellar, he went to the manor to stay for a few days. He wasn't alone; Hugh, Friedrich, Elaine, and Artie came along as well. Friedrich wasn't to stay if there was a hunt, as along with Nicholae, at least two leaders were always needed in a hunter group. Jean had chosen to remain at the reunion if such an event were to occur.

The ride to the manor was surprisingly quiet, if not a bit sleepy. He felt eyes on him as he rested his head on his palm while looking out the carriage window. He knew why; his unusual choice of hairstyle was similar to that typically styled by Celezar, and it left his scar and damaged eye on full display.

They soon arrived at the manor, and he was the first out of the carriage. As they neared the doors of the manor they opened automatically, and the smell of a fireplace burning pleasantly assaulted his olfactory. He took a moment to glance around the foyer.

Servants were all over, cleaning the floors, organizing furniture, arranging decorations, and strong smells of food wafted through his nostrils despite the early time of the day along with the smell of burning wood. He heard his cousins, Hugh, and Friedrich enter and glanced back at them.

"I'm going to my suite. I'll come back down in a few hours or if called," he said.

"Alright." Friedrich was passing his coat to one of the servants, and Jean watched for a second before looking away.

Without removing any articles of clothing, he turned to the left side staircase and jogged up. Servants bowed his way as he walked down a long, wide hall, and he wished he could ask them or even flat-out tell them not to, but his orders carried little weight against his mother's.

Thus, all he could do was give a small smile and make a heavy internal sigh.

The hall turned to the right, eventually leading to his suite in the manor. Unlike his brothers, who had families and thus wings to themselves, he had a decent-sized suite that was approximately two rooms and a foyer.

There was a single light over his suite's entrance leading to its antechamber. Typically, he kept the door open, as it was now. Even from a distance, he could see it was as spotless as always. The only part of his suite he allowed the servants to enter was the foyer, and even then, he normally only allowed it when the door was open.

Entering the foyer, he glanced back into the hall to see a servant turning the left corner. He once more emitted a sigh, then closed the door behind him. He hadn't even turned when several scents came to his attention, bringing a large smile to his face.

Turning, he looked up into Celezar's eyes. A shrewd look greeted him, and his eyes slanted as he approached. He took off his earpiece and dropped it atop a side table, then pulled his mate by his shirt into a kiss.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured.

The hybrid waggled a reddish brow. "Visiting you, love. Obviously..." He brought Jean closer into another kiss.

Breaking into a wide smile, Jean rested his head against the broad chest. It felt nice, right, to have Celezar near. If what brought Jean to the manor was a family reunion, it only made sense to have at least one member from his made family as well.

"Daddy!"

Looking behind Celezar, he spotted Darryl and his siblings smiling, save for Isel and Ivel who were held by their older twin siblings. Moving from Celezar's side, Jean crouched with open arms that Darryl quickly ran into.

"I missed you!" his son giggled, small black tentacles emerging from his back to attach themselves around Jean's chest.

Chuckling, Jean lowered to one knee, holding his eldest son to him while keeping his left arm open and tentacles splayed out for the rest of his children to waddle into.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Sescal chanted, chirruping loudly.

Jean had just half a thought to ask them to stay quiet but if Celezar wasn't saying anything, there was no reason to. Taking a moment to nuzzle all of his children, he took his youngest infants from Sescal and Celestal's arms with his tentacles, curling them against his sides. Their small arms immediately tried to wrap around his chest.

"I missed you all," he said, lowering his other leg. In seconds, he was toppled over, covered in giggling, chirruping and chirping forms. Laughing, he let them have their fun, but he handed his infants to Celezar who simply chuckled at his expense.

Celestal suddenly moved back and tilted her head to the side. "Are Gramma and Gran-Uncle here, too?" she said, slight fear in her lowering voice.

Her words brought a sad smile to Jean's face and a curse in the back of his mind. He had told his children honestly about the hate their grandmother and granduncle bore for inhumans, but they never expressed concern about it before.

The shift in her demeanor spread to her siblings, but Darryl moved to look at her with a stern face. "They can't hurt us," he said assuredly, head held high. "'Cause Mommy and Daddy will protect us."

She immediately smiled and nodded before attaching herself to Celezar's leg.

Jean hummed, ruffling his eldest son's hair with a smile. He looked at his mate. "Thank you."

The olive-green eyes merely twinkled. To their children, Celezar asked, "Why don't we go into the living room?"

Three heads bobbed, and Jean urged his children to let him stand. All but Sescal, ever mischievous, let him, and he ended up walking to the living room holding Celestal and Darryl's hands while Sescal stayed clung to him like ivy.

Celezar led the way into the large room where the lingering smell of food was in the air. Smiling, Jean moved to sit on the sofa, watching Darryl and Celestal sit on the floor where a placemat was placed atop it. On the placemat were some drinks, a gallon of homemade sorbet, and empty bowls and utensils Jean recognized were from his cabinet. It was nice to see them put to use; he never used them a single day of his life.

Once he sat, Sescal gave him a hug, then slipped down to the floor and joined his brother and sister. Sitting back in the sofa, Jean observed his eldest son serve his younger siblings the sorbet while Celezar sat beside him with Isel and Ivel in his lap.

Cooing brought his attention to the infants, and he smiled at the twin girls. They softly chirped at him before snuggling against Celezar's chest.

He chuckled, stretching his arm out in time for Celezar to scoot closer and rest against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around his mate, nuzzled into his hair, and they watched their children together.

He knew this moment couldn't last, but he was thankful for it. It was a nice prologue before the inevitable headache to come from the reunion later.

Quietly, he asked, "Why are they eating sorbet?"

There was a smile in his mate's voice as he responded, "It's a special day, no?"

"Mm, fair." He kissed into the auburn hair. "It'd be nice if we had a moment together, too..."

"Oh, I plan on it, love..." A calloused hand reached up, and he slightly tilted his head back as his beard was stroked. "Later."

"Hm." His eyes slanted from the massage.

"You need to shave..."

He grunted. "Maybe I don't want to."

"Good. Let your beard grow out, love."

He smiled widely, chuckling with delight at the genuine sound of pleasure in his mate's voice. Celezar shifted against him, and the sensation of a slick tongue licking his stubbled jaw made his eyes slant. "I miss you, Zarryel."

His mate went still, and he lowered his head as the tongue retracted to look back into the green gaze that was suddenly somber. He glanced away, but a hand on his chin brought his eyes back to his mate's. As he scanned the hybrid's freckled face, sneaky black tendrils went under his shirt.

"I do," he whispered, reaching to cup the side of Celezar's face. "I want to go home."

"I know, love."

He closed his eyes as Celezar stroked up his face, then down his scar. He felt the black tendrils curling around his free arm on the sofa's armrest. He then relaxed completely, lowering his hand, when Celezar's presence enveloped him, and settled into the sofa.

"That's right. Relax. You've a lot of stress to deal with, soon..."

He murmured something even he wasn't sure of, making the hybrid chuckle.

"Rest. We'll be here for the week."

This solidified his contentment and eased him into a sleeping state. He focused on the people around him, thankful for the presence of his family.

His real family.