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Chapter 150: Morning of the Assassin

Ciaran directed Aedan to whisk up the eggs for some omelettes while he cut the fillings for them. His brother had offered to help chop, but Ciaran had seen how well Aedan could use knives growing up. It was far safer for everyone involved if Aedan didn't use sharp implements.

Aedan moodily did as directed. "I hope Tuathla is all right this morning."

She was such a gentle Spirit; it was really tempting to call her naïve, but having watched her grow up, Ciaran knew she just couldn't understand the mind-set that created cruelty. Imagination wasn't her strongest suit, to phrase it politely.

Last evening...

Ciaran turned on the stove. "Add some pepper to that, would you, Aedan?"

Last evening, he saw a room he would have thought beyond the capability of anyone outside of a Demon or the vilest Hunter. No, even a Hunter couldn't do that to their child. Could they?

That room...

Ciaran had warned Mama and Tuathla that Lily's office would be unpleasant, and Faeden was more explicit in his warnings when he pulled his wife aside, but the two were insistent that they begin clearing out the room so the furniture could be brought down to the receiving room before morning. Even Garret tried to warn them, and the nauseated horror plainly visible on his face should have deterred Tuathla, but she docilely followed Mama upstairs.

She couldn't have been there for more than a few seconds before she stumbled back downstairs.

Faeden rose from his stool. "Tuathla?" His wife didn't answer; she just pulled a tumbler from its cupboard with shaking paws and rummaged through the kitchen some more. Faeden stepped toward her. "Lamb?" Still no answer. The broad-framed lady pulled out a bottle of Redbreast_cask-strength Irish whiskey and poured a double shot. Her husband coughed with wide eyes and reached for the glass. She beat him by downing the amber liquid in one go. He grabbed the bottle. "Tuathla! That stuff is over a hundred proof! You don't_ shoot it!"

She slammed the glass down on the counter. "Gimme 'nother."

Sorcha stopped putting dishes away and hurried over.

Faeden held the bottle to his chest. "No."

Tuathla grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him close. Her eyes weren't focusing on her husband at all. Her mouth was twisted up in a snarl, but the fury seemed confined just to her muzzle. "Yes."

Sorcha put her paw on her son's shoulder. "Tuathla, I don't think this is a good--"

"Give!" Tears filled her eyes and she turned her head to stare at Garret. "How!?"

The Demon-Mage lowered his head and twisted his fingers together. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. I just can't reconcile that with the woman I married, but she changed over the years. Even then..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"How could you not see? Not even suspect enough to just_look? _This is your wife and son we're talking about!" Tears spilt freely from her eyes now. Faeden quietly poured a half-finger's worth more whiskey into her glass and took it from her loose paw to add some water.

Garret didn't immediately answer and kept staring at his paws. "I don't know. I keep asking myself that. Every night I wake up a couple times asking it. Every night since Sensei..."

'Since Da cleansed him? Does the Taint actually affect a Fur's or Mage's mind even before they Turn? It certainly reinforces the near-universal law that tainted entities be killed if there isn't a healer around that can cleanse them.'

Eirne frowned at everyone before shooting a telling look at Aoife. "This isn't the place to be discussing this."

Aoife nodded toward the stairs where all the pups were. "You're right. Let's go upstairs and see this ourselves. Anything needing talking about can be said there."

Tuathla grabbed the tumbler from Faeden and chugged its contents.

Eirne glared at her sister-in-law. "Not 'us,' Aoife. You shouldn't go any--"

Aoife opened her mouth to argue, but Tuathla shrieked, "That's not an answer! This is your son we're talking about! How could you not notice he was hurting!?" She hurled the heavy glass at Garret. "Your son!" Ciaran caught the tumbler as it flew by and quietly set it on the island counter.

Dirk joined his father by Tuathla. "Mama." He pulled the much shorter Spirit into a hug. "He knows." Tuathla hugged him tightly, sobbing. "It's a question that he'll always be asking, even if it can never be answered."

Eirne sniffed disdainfully at Garret. "As it should be. Anyone who lets their child suffer deserves far worse."

Faeden turned from his son and wife. "You don't know what you're talking about, Eirne. He's paid tenfold with his own pain, already."

Eirne tossed her dishcloth back in the sink. "Aoife, take over." She glared at Faeden as she walked toward the hall. "Then educate me, Faeden. Let's go get that place cleaned up, and exorcise any spectres that linger. Gabbing away in the kitchen will solve nothing."

Garret shuddered. "I-I'll stay here."

Both Eirne and Tuathla fiercely rounded on him. "No, you will not!"

Ciaran saw the pain etched in every fibre of Garret's being. "I don't--" A disquieting roar erupted from Garret's belly silencing everyone. The Demon Mage clapped a paw over his muzzle and sprinted for a bathroom. Eirne and Tuathla said nothing more about making Garret see the scene of Nathanial's agony again.

Faeden looked up at the ceiling in the rough direction of Lily's office, and then at his wife. He shuddered. "Dirk, you keep an eye on Garret and make sure he's all right. I'll stay with Tuathla."

Tuathla lowered her head and began walking toward the hall with Eirne. "Then get some more cloths. It needs dusting."

Ciaran's nephew was clearly reluctant to go up there, but he nodded. "Yes, Lamb."

Ciaran held a paw out to stop Faeden. "We won't all fit in there, Faeden. I was going to go check on Mama anyway, so I'll keep Tuathla company if she stays." Gratitude flooded Faeden's features.

Sorcha's eyes widened when she noticed that. "I... I don't know if I..." She shook her head. "Hera help me."

Aedan wandered up from the basement with an empty beer bottle in paw. "You sure none of you want-- What the hells? Did something happen?" His nose twitched, and Aedan looked over at the open bottle of whiskey hungrily, but he turned his attention back to the others. "Son, you look like you could use a sit-down. Go keep an eye on Conor. He's helping Geoff with his homework." Faeden bowed toward Aedan, set the whiskey bottle on the counter and trotted downstairs.

Ciaran put the cap back on it and returned it to the cupboard. Aedan watched it go with puppy dog eyes, but he only said, "Lily's study?" Ciaran nodded. Aedan sighed. "Then be off. From what the alpha said this will be...unpleasant, to say the least, but our imaginations will make it out to be worse than it possibly can be."

Tuathla turned back toward him; she was almost at the corner by the music room. "No. You're wrong."

Ciaran noted her haunted expression and tone sent shivers up the spine of several Spirits. He hoped this wouldn't trouble his family in the future. Such sights could cause long-lasting issues. He began to really worry about Mama and hastened ahead of everyone.

Inside the office, Lorena stood just inside the threshold. A cleaning cloth and spray bottle lay by her hindpaws. "Mama?" The elderly Spirit didn't react to her son's quiet call. Ciaran slipped around her to enter the room. His training caused his eyes to flick over everything therein.

The room had no windows; the only illumination came from an amber-tinted light fixture over the large wooden desk in the middle of the room. Heavy-looking bookcases lined one wall; both the shelves and the books were coated in a layer of dust. The desk held only a pad of paper, a pen, a phone, and a burnt lamp. Ciaran had checked all the drawers when he'd secured the 'rods' in the wardrobe on the right-paw wall. The easily lock-picked centre drawer contained Lily's laptop and a number of business cards -- none of which Ciaran recognised. Other notable objects were a Spectre-HC automatic pistol (he was quite certain it was an_illegal _weapon in Canada), a Beretta 92, a clip of silver bullets for the Beretta, a silver 'cross' dagger, a stash of writable DVDs marked as training videos, and another (formerly) locked drawer with DVDs labelled with just years. No names, months, topics, or any identifying marks. Ciaran was quite certain they were records of some sort; they could be important, but unlikely to be time-sensitive, so he had let them be. Now would be an appropriate time to examine them...after he ensured his family could cope with the scene before them.

The scene Mama was transfixed by.

Before that innocuous-seeming desk lay a rug comprised of red, gold, and deep browns. It lay rumpled up to one side, revealing a broad swath of matted brown carpet. It spanned nearly a metre in diameter. The centre had been dyed a uniform, dark rusty brown, but as you looked toward the edges, it broke up into splotches of varying depths of colour. At the very edge, there lay a great many flecks of brown amongst the normal white fibres, and some larger spots where blood had dripped, rather than splashed...or where a small and blood-covered paw had landed as Nathanial attempted to catch himself. Some of the patterns could only be explained by such a theory.

Only Aedan spoke when he looked into the room and saw the stains. "By the grace of Lord Hades, may the honoured souls of the fallen find peace, and the souls of profane find justice." It was a prayer Aedan and Ciaran had heard Da utter a few times in similar situations a century ago, but it apparently stuck with Aedan.

Ciaran stepped directly in front of Lorena and gently raised her head to look into her eyes. "Mama. Look at me." He called his energy forth the way Da had taught him, and when Mama met his eyes, Ciaran let it flow into her. It only took a little to move through her chi-network and sooth her rattled nerves. She sobbed once and then clung to Ciaran, crying freely.

Eirne shook her head when Lorena sobbed. Her fur rippled and turned a vibrant green etched with a spade-shaped leaf pattern in it. Her ears, muzzle, and paws turned a deep black, and her eyes the same purple of the belladonna flower. The Nightshade Spirit shrieked like one of the Erinyes -- ancient goddesses of vengeance -- and whirled to leave the room in righteous fury. She stopped cold when she saw Aoife behind her. Aoife stood frozen, one paw over her gaping mouth and the other on her stomach.

Tuathla pushed past everyone and began setting up some boxes by the bookshelves. She said nothing and ignored everything but her task.

Eirne suppressed her powers with obvious effort and pulled Aoife into a hug, coincidentally drawing her from the room at the same time.

Aoife shook herself free after a moment and took Eirne's paw. "I swear. I swear on the River Styx and before all the gods, no one will harm my child while I live." She looked back toward the office. "And Hera help me, this will never happen to the Markses again."

Her sister-in-law grasped the paw holding her own. "I witness your oath, Aoife O'Conall, and swear the same." Eirne's voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "May the gods have mercy on whoever tries, because I won't."

Ciaran flipped the last omelette out of the pan and onto a holding plate with three more. He didn't know who would wake up when, so he made extras. From what he remembered Faeden saying, Dirk had very irregular sleep habits growing up and needed little sleep, and as far as the Markses went, it was safer to not assume anything. The only safe assumption would be on Da and Nathanial sleeping in in order to recover from yesterday.

He carried the pan to the sink and put it in the dry side; the few drops of water in the sink hissed when they came into contact with the hot metal. The window reflected the bright kitchen almost as well as a mirror, but he could see the fog swirling around something moving in a bee-line for the basement door. "Aedan, plate an omelette and pour a glass of milk, please."

His brother looked surprised. "Sure." He picked up the serving spoon and scooped out some fruit salad onto half of a plate. "Who is it for?"

"Micah."

Eirne arched an eyebrow as she walked into the room, followed by almost all of the visiting O'Conalls. "So early?"

Faeden yawned cavernously at the back of the line. "Who's early?"

Aoife poked her head into the stairwell. "Micah. I don't see or hear him." She pulled her head back and closed the door. "Where is he?"

The fog had stopped roiling so the pup probably had made it inside. A faint click reached Ciaran's ears through the closed window. "Just came back inside. He was playing in the backyard."

Avery smiled from the middle of the loose pack. "Not surprising. He reminds me a lot of Geoff; he always has to be moving and hates being cooped up inside."

Tuathla stumbled around the corner of the music room. She looked absolutely haggard. Faeden turned back and trotted over to her. "Lamb, I said I'd bring up some food for you. Are you sure you want to be up and about?"

His wife clung to Faeden's arm. "I don't want to be alone. I-I see it. I hear him. Whenever I close my eyes. When it's quiet. She hurts him."

Ciaran felt his back muscles quiver in revulsion.

The Dust Spirit took it upon himself to clear out the desk once most of the bookshelves were taken care of. The top of the desk took less than a minute to clean off and the standard materials in some of the drawers little more than that. The fur brush in the 'cosmetic' drawer would make a very nice gift for Eirne or Draighean, but Ciaran felt both ladies would be vehemently opposed to having anything Lily once owned.

Then Ciaran took out the weapons. Tuathla didn't even look over when Eirne gasped at the sight of the dagger, or when Mama 'tsked' after Ciaran flipped open the Spectre's case to 'see' what it was.

Eirne and Mama both kept part of their attention on Ciaran as he packed the other materials, but when Ciaran opened up the laptop and took out the first 'mystery disc' they stopped all their packing. Mama walked over to stand behind Ciaran as the machine booted up. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you leave this for Garret to look through?"

Ciaran pointed at the training DVDs nestled in a box. "These aren't standard religious sermons. They're guides for Hunters and Knights. I'll let the alpha's advisors look through them for information we can use." He taped the blank cases. "These DVDs only have a year scrawled on them, and could be anything. I want to see what they are, at least in general, before deciding if it's personal -- and to be left for Garret -- or relating to the Hunters."

Eirne joined them at the laptop. "What good is looking at crap the Hunters made? We're Spirits. What use is their stuff to us?"

Tuathla began clearing off the shelf behind them; it'd probably take no more than five to ten minutes to finish packing.

He shrugged. "You never know what information will suddenly become useful in the future. Even if it's no use now, it may be useful later." The computer's desktop finally stopped loading. Ciaran put in the disc and the autoplay spooled it up.

"You useless brat!" Lily's strident voice cut through the quiet of the office. Tuathla snapped about and stared at the screen with the others. It showed the office from a slightly different vantage point than Ciaran expected; it displayed a tiny portion of the top of the desk and out toward the closed door. The laptop must have had an external web camera stationed near the corner of the desk. The rug was tossed aside revealing a much smaller stain on the carpet, but still an alarming one considering the year of the DVD: 2003. A young Akita, either Nathanial or Nicholas but most likely Nathanial, stood centred on the screen. He wore a nice shirt that showed some rough treatment; the right cuff had mud stains on it, three buttons were missing, and there were tears in the fabric as if some clawed Fur had roughly grabbed the pup by the shirt. The knees of his slacks were ripped open, showing raw, muddy, bloody, and furless flesh. Nathanial's right eye looked swollen, as did the left side of his muzzle, and some blood had dried in the fur around his gashed nose. "Do you know how much that shirt cost!?" Lily stepped into view of the camera and back-pawed Nathanial across the face.

The small pup fell to the floor with a muffled cry. "T-Twent-ty--" Lily cut him off with a sharp kick to the bottom of his muzzle. Nathanial cried out in pain.

The immaculately dressed female reached behind the camera. "I wasn't looking for an answer! Don't you dare speak to me unless I tell you to! Understood!?" She pulled her arm back into view. The burgundy fabric of her long dress hid her white paw and draped over a portion of the long bamboo rod. The camera's autofocus zoomed in on all of the cracks above the dress as it moved by. Ciaran saw more blood and fur than he cared to, but the scene held him fast in horror.

The microphone picked up the whistling of the quickly moving stick. It hit Nathanial beneath the ribs on his back with a painful 'thwap.' "Answer!"

"I-I-I--!"

She hit him again, this time in the small of the back right above the base of his tail. "Faster! When I tell you to do something, you do it right away!"

"Ye--!"

Nathanial cried out in pain mid-response when Lily hit him behind the ear. "I didn't tell you to speak!" She hit him twice more for good measure. "You filthy brats need to be trained properly, or you'll become useless Demon spawn like your father! When I'm done with you, send up one of the other ones. The little one first."

"No!" Nathanial lay face-down on the rug and reached out pleadingly to his mother. When he raised his head to stare beseechingly at her, Ciaran could see his eyes weren't focusing. He had a concussion. "I'll do anything! Please!"

Lily's face, which Ciaran would have called beautiful in anyone else, twisted up in fury. "How dare you!?" She brought the rod down across Nathanial's back with a double-pawed swing. It shattered from the force of the impact, and Nathanial collapsed the last bit of the way to the floor, blood dripping from several new wounds.

Lily dropped the bamboo stub left in her paw and stepped over Nathanial to pull a fresh one from the wardrobe.

Ciaran recovered enough to hit 'stop' and ejected the disc. He looked at the stack of DVDs; eight years, eight discs. The computer had indicated this one was full. Were they all videos? Full? How...? His mind shut down, and he stared at the innocuous desktop with the other three Spirits for a very long time.

A heavy lump settled in Ciaran's gut. He asked himself the question that crossed his mind after shutting down that damned woman's video. 'How had Nathanial survived? How could she do _that?'_His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. "She's dead. Good fucking riddance. That bitch is locked away in Nick's coin suffering the worst nightmares magic can conjure, and once Da recovers enough, she'll be sent on to face the justice of Hades. May it be soon."

No one responded because a sudden rumble of pawsteps stormed up the stairs. Aoife opened the basement door again and barely had time to brace herself. Micah glomped on her. He wore some sort of medieval garb: a green tunic; a long, green cap; tan breeches; and a grey-green, Elven-made cloak clasped with a beryl pin. "Morning!" All of the adults forced a cheerful demeanour. Micah bounced away; Ciaran was certain the Changeling noted the gloom in the room, and the pup's radiant smile brightened a touch to compensate. "Yummy! This smells great!" He leapt at Dirk and latched onto the tall Wolf's neck. Dirk didn't shift at all and easily held the pre-teen up. Micah chirped, "Did you make it, Dirk? I love your cooking!"

Ciaran smiled. He was surprised to note it was a genuine one, too, as were most of the smiles on the rest of his family, Tuathla being the most notable exception. It was hard to stay gloomy with this bundle of cheer bouncing around. "No, Sprite. I did, with Aedan's help, anyway."

Micah dropped away from Dirk and dodged around a few people to stop at the plate next to the glass of milk. His nose quivered rapidly. "It smells like Dirk's cooking. Did you teach him? I bet I'll like it. Does Faeden cook? It sounds like he doesn't 'cause of the way he talked about Dirk's cooking and how good it was. Does he cook?"

Avery ruffled Micah's ears. "Slow down, Micah; he can only answer one question at a time."

Ciaran picked up his plate and glass of juice. "Let's go eat before it gets cold. We can put tea on in the ballroom." He walked next to Micah as everyone gathered their food before trooping out. "I didn't teach Dirk much; Mama did. She taught me how to cook a bit later in life, after Da passed, and..." Ciaran dropped his voice to a stage whisper while surreptitiously nodding to Aoife, "...I have to say I inherited Mama's cooking skills."

Aoife turned around with mock outrage. "I heard that! How dare you? And I'll have you know I taught Dirk just as much as Mama did!"

Dirk dryly interjected, "With this many cooks bothering me in the kitchen it's a surprise I never set fire to anything."

Faeden snorted. "That's because Da_never tried to teach you how _he cooks." Micah's laughter echoed off the walls of the hallway.

Aedan actually sounded a bit annoyed. _"Och!_When was the last time I set fire to anything?"

Sorcha sighed dramatically. "How long ago was my birthday? That's usually how I keep track of fires in the kitchen." She smiled at her husband to show she was teasing.

Micah dashed through the dark ballroom to claim a seat near the window. "It's so beautiful out! The Frost Fairies are playing tonight, and they're making all sorts of pretty patterns." He sprinted back to Tuathla. "See-see-see! Come sit by the window!" He took her plate and ran back to the table he claimed. He set it in a spot where she'd have a good view and pulled out a chair. He bounced around it. "Sit here, Aunty Tuathla! I'll get tea going for you!"

Eirne moved up beside Ciaran as they moved toward another table. She leant her head on his shoulder. "I so swear." He didn't need to ask what she swore. Should Hera bless them with another child, no force would be able to get close enough to him or her to be a threat.

Ciaran tipped his head over to rest his cheek on her. "I so swear."

Avery called after Micah. "Be careful! The water is hot!" She moved as fast as she dared with a full glass, claiming the last spot at Micah's table. She ran after him.

Micah's laughter flitted out from the deep shadows he vanished into. "How can you make tea with _cold_water?"

Faeden claimed his seat and trotted off to the opposite side of the ballroom Micah ran to. There was another door there; from what Ciaran understood it led into a storeroom. Sorcha joined him. "What are you looking for?"

"Candles." The light clicked on. "Ah, here they are." Ciaran heard metal candelabras clanking together. "Take these, Mama." More clanking came from the one bright spot in the area. "I thought it'd be nice to keep the lights off so we can still see outside. It is rather pretty out there."

Ciaran wouldn't mind dining by candlelight the way they had done when he was younger. He pulled a chair out for Eirne. "My dear wife." Eirne's ears coloured, but she quietly accepted the gesture and sat. He kissed her paw before sliding her chair up to the table. "I love you."

She smiled up at him and spread a napkin over her lap. "I love you, too." Faeden interrupted the mood a bit when he dropped off the candles, and then Micah bounced out of the food staging area, followed by Avery with the tea service.

Micah plopped onto his seat by Tuathla. "Isn't it pretty out, Aunty?"

She didn't raise her eyes up from her plate; she just sat with her paws lightly resting on her fork and knife.

Faeden cupped the back of one of her paws with the palm of his own. "Eat, Lamb." He raised his paw, and she mechanically began eating."

Micah watched her take a few bites without eating himself. "Does it taste good?" Tuathla shook her head, not to say it tasted bad, but more to try to clear her mind. Ciaran saw her eyes focus on the plate in front of her. The pup looked at her with worry. "No?" Tuathla didn't answer that question, either. He bit his lower lip before his eyes lit up, and he shoved a huge bite of omelette into his mouth. "Mfgrh blthem grwulf--"

That got her attention. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Micah. Do you want me to cut your omelette up for you?" Tuathla daintily sliced of a bit of her omelette, as if to demonstrate.

Ciaran could actually hear the pup swallow. "Nope!" Micah sounded pleased that she'd responded that time. "All good!" Micah cut off a smaller bit of omelette and speared it with his fork. "Did all the ghosts and stuff scare you last night? I could have brought you my goomba. Nats made it for me, and it's my most favourite treasure, but I could've lent it to you. I don't need to sleep with it anymore, but it reminds me that I'm loved, so I still hug it when I'm upset. If you want to hug it, you can."

Tuathla sighed and took another small bite before answering. "I'm fine."

Micah's eyes narrowed for just a moment. He speared another chunk of omelette and waved it about as he talked. "Well, I s'pose you gots a big stuffy there to hug." Micah pointed at Faeden with his fork. "He's probably all squishy, too." He shoved the dripping remnants of the slice of omelette on his fork into his mouth, swallowed without chewing, and opened his mouth to unleash a resounding belch.

Avery cut him off. "Micah Joel Marks." The pup's jaw clicked shut. "Mind your manners. I know very well Nathanial raised you better than that, so behave, or I'll have you sit in the corner while we eat."

Mischief danced in Micah's eyes. He delicately placed his fork down on his plate and slid his chair back to stand. His beryl pin shone for a split second before his clothing shifted into a Victorian gentleman's attire, complete with top hat, monocle, and a fake, overly bushy chin tuft. He bowed, holding his top hat to his chest with his right paw, and twirled the tuft with a finger. "My most abject apologies, my dear lady. How may I ever make it up to you?" He donned his hat, flicked the tails of his coat out, and perched at the edge of his chair. "Truly a horrendous display. Tut, tut." He sniffed and peered through his monocle at his milk. He raised the glass, pinky extended, and sniffed it. "Such a marvellous bouquet." Micah took an exaggerated sip, swished the milk around his mouth, and swallowed. "By Jove, this must be the nectar of divine bovines!" Micah couldn't keep the act up anymore and laughed, kicking the backs of his hindpaws against the legs of his chair. "So flavour! Much texture! Very health! Wow!"

Faeden, Aedan, and Ainbertach all started laughing. Sorcha and Avery hid smiles behind their paws while trying -- and utterly failing -- to look stern. Eirne looked aghast, though Ciaran knew her well enough to know it was mostly a façade. Mama sighed and shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.

Dirk just rolled his eyes. He must be used to Micah's antics or felt Micah was pushing Tuathla too much. When Tuathla didn't react at all, Dirk's professional mask slipped a bit; he was very worried about his mother.

Micah quickly stopped laughing. "Did you sleep all right, Aunty? You seem really tired. I know I've had trouble sleeping away from home, but then Granddad would sit with me and sing until I fell asleep. Do you want to lie down on the couch in the sitting room for a bit after breakfast? I can hold your paw and sing to you. I don't know many lullabies, though. I love the sound of Hestia's Cradle in Irish, but I don't know the words, so I can just sing Granddad's song. I don't know what it all means, but I can still sing it. It's pretty."

He didn't wait for an answer. He just opened his mouth and began to sing. It was stunning. Ciaran had learnt some basic phrases and words in Fey over the years, but the flow of the song enraptured him enough that he couldn't even attempt to try to pick any out.

Avery shook herself after a minute and quietly interrupted him, saying, "Micah." She put her paw on his arm. "It's very beautiful, and I'm sure Tuathla would love to listen to you sing, but eat your breakfast, please. It's getting cold."

Tuathla finally smiled; a very sad one, but still a smile. "It was very pretty, Micah, and I am tired, but I was planning on baking some biscuits after breakfast. I thought you and Nicholas would enjoy an addition to your lunches."

Micah's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is that 'biscuits that go with stew' biscuits, or 'biscuits you have after supper and as a treat' biscuits?" He straightened up and apologised immediately. _"Oh!_I'm sorry if I sounded rude. Um, um, I'm sure I'd love whichever ones you made, and they'd taste really yummy. "

Tuathla actually laughed. "It did sound rude, Micah, but why would anyone eat biscuits with stew?"

Faeden took his wife's paw. "Scones. He was wondering if you were making scones or cookies. They call biscuits 'cookies' and scones 'biscuits.' From what I understand, though, the American 'biscuit' is typically unflavoured, and is some type of shortening bun."

To Ciaran, the question still remained unanswered. Why would anyone eat that type of biscuit with stew when they could have doughboys? Da liked Mama's stews, enough so that they were served at least once in the week leading up to his trips to London, but it was the doughboys cooked on top that were the reason he loved them so much. The mutton stew -- and accompanying drop dumplings -- were the first things Ciaran had asked Mama to teach him, and by far his favourite winter food. Maybe he could cook that for tea this afternoon. It'd be a simple matter to say he'd planned on it when Nathanial was injured and had to stay home; that way Nathanial wouldn't be offended by having his duties as host usurped. Maybe if Da saw him acting more like family than an apprentice...

Micah's eyes widened. "Really?_Cookies!? I _love cookies! I made cookies once, with Nats's help, and shaped them like mushrooms. He even helped me get different coloured icing to make the spots like in the Super Mario games. I served them to Luke and Faeden and Conor and Dirk and--"

Faeden cut in. "Yes, Micah, all of us had some of your biscuits. I mentioned it to Tuathla after I got home." That seemed to set Micah into overdrive and his chair rattled alarmingly from the force of his wagging. Not only had someone eaten his biscuits, but they talked_about it to someone else later. He'd been _acknowledged. Ciaran could understand that.

Avery reached over and put her paw on the back of Micah's head. "Eat your breakfast, Micah. You can watch Tuathla bake once you two have eaten." She scratched the base of his ears with the claws of her thumb and little finger; Micah half closed his eyes and leant back into the scratching. "I'd help you, Tuathla, but I'm not the most proficient at baking."

It appeared Ciaran wasn't the only one listening in. Sorcha half-turned in her chair to talk more directly to Tuathla. "I'll help. I've been fancying a nice oatmeal biscuit for a few days now."

Dirk chuckled. "That's a good idea. If you make multiple types, Mama, make sure at least some of them are lower in sugar, or Nathanial will get a kink in his tail. He's rather strict about how much sugar his brothers are allowed to have."

Avery frowned at her husband's bodyguard. "That's true, but he isn't the only stickler about diets around here. Who was more outraged when I told Gwen I'd make her grilled cheese sandwiches for--"

Dirk winced. "Don't---" He raised his paws up. "Just don't. That is not a proper meal for a pup, or even an adult." He turned to Lorena. "I hope you're making sure Gwen eats properly, Granny. Avery gets--"

Lorena pinned him to the wall with a withering glare. "I know my job, Dirk, I've been doing it for a very long time. I may be the alpha's cook, but I've been making sure their grandpups eat properly for almost a hundred years."

Micah's fork clattered onto his empty plate; it'd be far too much of a stretch to call it clean, though. "All done!"

Avery's eyes widened as she looked back and forth between the pup and plate. "Micah!"

Ciaran looked about, and even Faeden was only half-finished.

Ainbertach laughed. "Why are you so surprised, Avery? I've heard about how fast Geoff eats when a football match is about to start, or when he wants to go out and practice."

Avery's ears canted back, and she fixed a stern glare on Micah. The pup shrunk back in his seat. Avery shook her head. "True. Too true. It isn't only Geoff that's guilty on that front, though."

Dirk glared at Avery. "No. He _isn't."_The stern-looking mother suddenly fluffed up in embarrassment.

Ciaran surprised even himself by laughing. What a treasure Micah was. The gloom may return -- such a horrific sight could never be banished entirely -- but its hold on the house had broken thoroughly, and it would never return as strongly as it had first struck.

Ciaran followed his father out the front door. It was shortly after nine in the morning. Everyone was now awake and had broken their fast, and those that exercised in the morning had done so. The pups that were going to school today had left about a half-hour ago, leaving Da and Nathanial behind to try to recuperate.

Immediately after Faelen had left, Da said he was going home to check on his father and gather some materials; what sort he didn't say. Aoife ensured only Ciaran would go with Da, informing Aedan he was 'busy.' Ciaran felt quite grateful to her, but now Da's chi indicated the odd behaviour made him curious, confused, and stressed about something. Da and Ciaran stood silently on the stoop and waited.

They were waiting for the police.

Nathanial had asked, politely, that they wait for the police to return so they could show them out back to finish gathering the spying paparazzo's gear since they were going to be going that way anyway. Now, a large van marked with the regional police insignia pulled up the long lane to the front door.

"Howdy, Liam!" A female Rabbit hopped out of the passenger's side. Her brownish-grey fur looked to be giving way to a white winter coat, but it remained sleek and shiny. She must have spent a good amount of time brushing, almost as much as she did exercising. Her form was _very_pleasing to Ciaran's eyes, and the way she moved showed she was no stranger to combat.

The tan spot over Da's left eye twitched, and his chi also indicated a bit of annoyance. Da just tipped his nose down in a tiny nod. "Officer Steinbach. A pleasure."

Officer Steinbach smiled broadly and rested her paws on her hip and pistol. "I hope running into you doesn't mean I'll have an exciting day. I've already made one arrest." Was she _threatening_Da?

A small flick of Da's tail and ear reassured him; it was an old signal Da had taught him during training. The Rottweiler smiled politely. "I hope so, too. I must say, it pleases me to have officers of your calibre on the force, and I wish to extend my personal thanks for your assistance earlier today."

The Rabbit turned her head away and batted the air between them with one paw. "Aw, shucks. T'weren't nothin'. It was a standard arrest with no troubles at all."

Da gestured toward the left to lead the officers around the ballroom side of the building. "This way." The second policeman stepped around the now parked van and trotted to catch up. He was an extremely lean Savannah Cat, almost gaunt-looking to Ciaran's eyes, but then a lot of the 'hunting' Cats did. To be fair, Ciaran wouldn't be surprised if people said he was almost gaunt-looking for a Wolf. Da had encouraged him from childhood to work on lean muscle over bulk, and endurance over intensity. He'd surprised more than one foe with his strength, to their demise.

The male officer turned to Ciaran. "Are you with the ladies, the Wolves, that were here having tea this morning?"

Ciaran nodded. "Yes, they're family. May I ask why?"

"Just to pass on my thanks for the cookies. They were great."

He nodded again. "I will do so."

Officer Steinbach tried teasing Da. "So, it looks like you have competition in the high jump, don't you know. I saw Nathanial perched up on the wall by the gate talking to the reporters this morning. You mightn't have the track and field medals wrapped up after all."

Da looked at her blankly. "Why in all the gods' names would I want to compete in such an inane event? For a bit of plastic or plated metal, yet?"

The Savannah Cat smiled. "Ask the Dioscuri, Agon, or Nike. I'm sure those gods could give you a lot of reasons."

Da looked back over his shoulder. "I could also ask Hermes. Many of the gods are associated with physical competitions, in some form or another, but I care little for competition merely for the sake of competition. It serves no purpose. Comparing myself to another does not, either. Should I wish to improve or have a metric to which I may to compare, I merely need to measure my achievements and seek to better them."

Well, if Ciaran had wanted to see if there were any differences between Lowell and Liam, he just found one. Lowell never encouraged his children to compete with each other, in fact looking back on it, he seemed to go out of his way to ensure they had very little opportunity to do so, but Lowell actively sought out venues where he could test himself against others in London. Yes, only London. No, that wasn't quite true; there were a few times Ciaran saw Da do so in the city of Cork and in Bristol. Perhaps it was best to say, 'never in the clan.'

Officer Steinbach laughed at Da's answer. "I thought boys your age were always competing over something."

Da's back stiffened, as did his voice. Mama often fumed when Da took on this tone of 'wounded formality,' and it appeared to have carried on into this life, too. "Then, madam, it appears you thought incorrectly."

The Rabbit held up her paws in surrender, but Ciaran could still hear the laughter in her voice. "Jeepers, Liam, it was a joke. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I do not recall saying I was offended. I merely pointed out the error in your assumptions."

The male officer smiled at Ciaran and shook his head in amusement. Ciaran half-smiled and shrugged in return. "I wasn't very competitive, either. I just strove to be someone my da would be proud of." Ciaran didn't mean to say that last bit, no matter how true it was; it just slipped out. The tips of Da's ears waggled slightly, though the twitch of the muscles around his ears was too small to make out.

Officer Steinbach lifted her hat to scratch at the base of her long ears. "Yeah, me, too. My vati was a sniper during the Vietnam War and became a police officer after. Joining a police force was all I dreamed of growing up." She didn't have a German accent to go with the name, but it seemed her family still used some German terms. Vati,_from what he had been taught, meant _'daddy' or some equivalent.

Da's back relaxed, and his tone became almost tender; Ciaran could pick out traces of the clan's accent. "Your fathers are proud of you, I'm sure. I'd wager they always have been, even if they didn't always say so." He pulled open the stone gate. The softness and accent were replaced by the clipped precision Liam seemed to favour. "Now, if you shall excuse..." He trailed off and scanned around the ground. "Where did this voyeur come from? From plantigrades, I see only Officer Steinbach's prints leading toward the ladder, and both the voyeur and officer return." He stepped aside and ran his paws over the bushes to the left.

Ciaran was curious, too, but found himself distracted by the devastation wrought by the car Gordon Ahjee had thrown through the wall here. Conor told him about the fight the Demon Mage had with Nathanial, of course, but seeing how thick the wall was and how much damage the car did to the trees really made Nathanial's victory seem that much more miraculous.

The sound of rustling shrubbery drew Ciaran's attention back to the other three. Da moved through the bushes toward the paparazzo's blind. Officer Steinbach hastened after him. Ciaran and Officer Steinbach's partner followed. "That's a crime scene!"

"I shall touch naught. I wish to see from what direction he approached. There should be no place for him to have come from directly behind the house, but I wish to confirm it. Do you not also wish to find out where he parked or if he had an accomplice?"

From the map Ciaran had glanced over, Nathanial's home was on the outer curve of a crescent, near the apex, with nothing but wilderness behind it. The only non-magical way someone could've carted a bunch of material in would be to follow the walls behind the large homes, either clockwise or counter-clockwise. Even then, it'd be a slog, and it'd be hard to tell where a good starting point would be. Most homes would have fences in the back to keep the wild animals out.

The Rabbit shook her head. "So you're a tracker and a high jumper?"

Da flashed a cheeky grin over his shoulder. "I'm many things, all of which are surprising." How many times had Ciaran heard that over the years? The grin may have looked different on the immature Rottie muzzle, but it still held Da's humour in it.

The Cat directly in front of Ciaran snorted and muttered, "No wonder Lars complained about him." He then chuckled and shook his head. "I could really get to like him." That must be Sergeant Lars Heimdolf, the former Knight.

They soon stepped out into a more-or-less clear area dominated by a tall stepladder. Da didn't even walk across the clearing. "Ah. Yes. He did follow the wall from that direction. Good."

Officer Steinbach shrugged. "Well, if he didn't come from one side, he had to have come from the other." She turned to her partner. She pointed to a couple of satchels at the far edge of the clearing. "Grab those bags and bring them over here." The lean Rabbit pulled out a camera before lifting an insulated bag free of the plastic one it sat in. She set it to one side and photographed the contents of the shopping bag.

Ciaran and Da twitched their ears toward the insulated bag at the same time. Did something hiss in there? Perhaps a container was leaking. The second officer poked at a few bags. "This guy certainly came prepared. How the hells did he get it all back here without raising a fuss?" The Cat picked up a camera bag and another bag that sounded like it held loose electronic equipment. "We're going to need to make at least three trips to bring it all to the van."

Officer Steinbach tossed her hat onto the bag of junk food before dropping the strap of the camera around her neck. "More like four. The ladder alone will take one. We can't pack up the netting either because of the branches, so we're going to have to carry that between us." She adjusted the position of the insulated bag to get a good shot. *Click.*

Her partner turned away to look at the bushes behind him. "How could you tell this guy came through here so easily, Liam?"

---

Several blocks away, Micah sat back down in his desk. The class had just finished singing O Canada, and now it was time for attendance. He fidgeted. Something bugged him, like a tickle in the back of his brain. Did he forget something? He was pretty sure he remembered to bring his homework. He'd got his lunch and those really yummy cookies Auntie Tuathla made. Was there something else?

---

Ciaran didn't need to ask. The sheer amount of freshly broken limbs on all of the bushes said someone carted _something_large through them. None of the vegetation in the other directions showed that amount of disruption, though Ciaran could see a lot of raw wood on nearby trees where limbs had been intentionally torn off.

Da began to respond with just that. "Look at all of the broken branches." Officer Steinbach began unzipping the bag.

---

Micah tapped his pencil in aggravation. What was it? The claws on his hindpaws clicked in time with the tapping stick. He'd brushed his teeth and fur. He'd said bye to everyone.

"Micah Marks?"

His teacher's voice snapped him back to the present for a second. "Here!" What did he forget? He'd put his phone away when he got into the classroom like he was supposed to. His jacket was hung up, too. He'd checked his pants zipper. Yup, got that.

---

Ciaran scanned around while Da continued. "The sheer amount of damage could only--" He broke off, and both Da's and Ciaran's heads snapped around to stare at the insulated bag. There were _definite_sounds of hissing audible over the growl of a reinforced zipper.

Before either of them could say anything, Officer Steinbach finished unzipping it and flipped the lid back. A fecking huge and angry garter snake leapt out at Officer Steinbach with jaws gaping wide. Two more snakes, if smaller ones, followed.

Ciaran pounced at the Rabbit. She hopped back, right paw already grasping the grip of her pistol and drawing it from the holster. Da crouched, ready to spring in whichever direction he needed once he determined what the threat was. The Cat slid a hindpaw back and raised his fists in a boxing stance, but when he shifted his weight back, the ground gave way around a small burrow or depression in the ground. He stumbled back into a thick bush with a shout of alarm.

Ciaran landed between the snakes and the police officer at the same time she pulled her gun out. He knocked her paws to the side and raised his left arm to block the snakes. He barely felt them collide with the enchanted leather, but he did feel some energy flow out of the three reptiles and into the coat Da made him. The poor snakes fell to the forest floor, stunned.

Da shook his head. "What in Tartarus was he doing with three serpents in his lunch bag?" Da turned and extended a paw to the thrashing Cat. He caught a flailing limb and tried to haul the officer to his hindpaws, but the Cat only came partway up before something drew him back down. Da reached out and flicked a claw on something in the air. The short fluff over the Rottie's body momentarily puffed up in alarm.

The Cat shouted, "Gyahh! Spiders! I'm stuck! Help!" The poor guy thrashed about, drawing more webbing and detritus around him.

---

Micah sat bolt upright, and his eyes widened as far as they could go. His pencil rolled down his desktop and then clattered on the floor. 'Uh-oh.' Now he remembered what it was. 'I'm in trouble.'

---

Officer Steinbach holstered her pistol. She nudged the comatose snakes with her toes. "Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes? These guys are still mostly asleep, too." She shook her head and called over to her partner. "Calm down, Bill, you're just making it worse."

Ciaran felt Da gather chi into his paw before he pressed it to Bill's forehead. "Peace." Bill stopped thrashing and lay there panting. Da glanced toward Ciaran and flicked his paws in a sign that meant 'Fey.' Micah probably did this. Da shook his head and used a small amount of chi to start cutting through the strands.

Ciaran copied Da, including the head shake. "We'll get him out, Officer Steinbach. It'll just take a minute. He probably just got wrapped up in some sap-covered vines, and maybe some thorny branches. You can keep working." She nodded suspiciously but complied. Ciaran bet she would count this as an exciting day, even without another arrest.