Chapter One
Marquis
Eighty years. That was how long he’d been with Doris. Half his life.
Going through his home and stuffing her belongings into garbage bags hurt in its own special way. The hole she left behind in his life ached, a wound that every object seemed to pick at enough to keep a scab from forming. Even her trash left behind kept the wound from healing.
A fuzzy green film had dried down to a puck at the bottom of a coffee cup left on her desk. A crumpled pastry wrapper lay on the floor by her trash can.
“Marquis, you really should go play with Caspian. Get some grandpa time and let me handle this.” Nite pushed by, trash bag in hand and made a shooing gesture.
“Grandpa time sounds good…” His voice cracked, and he turned to walk away, body heavy as things shuffled about and the trash bag crinkled behind him.
He had no idea how to talk to his coven or any of its subjugate covens.
Penumbra, his coven, which had gained control of the Eclipse territory, his family’s legacy.
His brother, Baron, had once been in control of the territory and the coven, but had long lost the power and seceded to Penumbra.
None of the original Eclipse coven existed anymore, though.
Baron had seen to that. The subjugate covens—Red Sky, Corona, and Luna—all sent their regards and representatives to ask questions—always so many questions.
How did you not know? they’d asked.
Love did stupid things. Love made you blind.
But without Doris around, he wasn’t sure if it had ever been love.
He was mated, after all. His heart shouldn’t have reached out to Doris.
But maybe it wasn’t his heart. She’d done so much trickery that Marquis wasn’t even certain of what they shared. The memory was tainted.
When he arrived in his estate’s living room, he stared at an accordion-folded series of gates that had interlocked into a circle. A little dark-haired babe stood on his tiptoes, staring over the edge of it, eyes as green as Nite’s. “Dada.”
“Grandfather.” Marquis enunciated the word as Caspian mouthed syllables silently before scrunching up his face. “Dada!”
The little one looked so similar to Rexford when he was little, save for those green eyes. It brought back memories—ones he should have experienced with Mads, ones he never did.
Rexford’s umbilical cord hadn’t fallen off completely when Mads had left. His mate, still bleeding, had disappeared in the night with only a letter. Finding people in the forties was much harder than it was in the present.
As his mind focused in on that train of thought, he absentmindedly strode forward and picked Caspian up. “Hello, Rex—Caspian.”
Caspian babbled unintelligibly and made a swipe and grab for Marquis’s spectacles. He made a hissing noise of awe as he realized he’d succeeded and waved them about before messily trying to put them on himself.
“I’m uncertain those would do you any good, my boy.” Marquis laughed. He barely needed spectacles at all. But, enchanted, they did aid him seeing things that escaped the normal eye.
Caspian babbled and peered up at Marquis with wide, gleaming eyes through the upside-down glasses. The infant’s tone somewhat resembled a question, something about an inflection at the end.
“Ah, never you mind, little one. Grandfather is sad, but one day, I shall be happy again. I promise.” Marquis beamed at him.
Caspian, for his part, blew a raspberry as Marquis stole his glasses back.
“Yes, it certainly isn’t ideal at this time, but such is life.” Marquis bounced him on his hip and frowned, catching a whiff of something less than ideal. “Ah, so this is what you meant by that.”
He whisked the babe off to the impromptu changing station they’d kept on the ottoman and battled the long process of keeping an infant from rolling over and flailing in its own feces or flinging itself off a tall surface.
Fortunately, in the time since Rexford was in nappies, they’d come a long way.
They still used reusable diapers, but these had snaps everywhere and swappable innards.
Marquis had a spell for cleaning things, but it was best not to cast a spell on infants involving cleaning or anything attached to them.
Intent of the target and the host were considered, and babies often didn’t have wonderful concepts of what clean meant.
Once the insides and outside were swapped and his bottom wiped, he bundled Caspian back into his footie pajamas and let him toddle around in his little plastic prison while he took the diaper to the toilet, wand at the ready.
A quick flick and intent had the contents separating from the diaper itself.
Matter couldn’t necessarily be created or destroyed, so separating the liquids from the cloth was simple enough with a flush.
Finished, he dropped it in the designated bin to be washed and washed his hands.
Caspian raised his arms to be picked up once more and whined, so Marquis obliged while he babbled on in baby speak and grabbed for glasses once more.
As he fawned over the child, spilling his heart to him as if it were Freud himself lecturing him on his inner mechanisms—minus the bizarre sexual infatuations. “No, I had a wonderful relationship with my mother. My father and I—”
Caspian screeched and gave a loud, “A-ba!”
“Well, he did favor Baron. I was more of the spare son. Baron could do no wrong. Served him right eventually. I believe he succumbed to the rapture before we truly knew what it was, as did my mother. I suppose I should mourn them all over again knowing it was Baron’s work that did them in.
” Marquis sighed heavily. “She would have loved you, Grandma Morgana.”
Caspian cooed as if in somber agreement and made a little bubbling noise over his lips.
“I mean, our relationship wasn’t perfect, Doris and I, but she was there for me when it mattered.” Marquis sat back down with Caspian and delighted at being bounced on his knee.
Caspian belted out some moose-like noise at full volume and giggled.
“Oh, I think you’re much too young to hear that story.” Marquis laughed.
Caspian made a wrinkled-up face and huffed.
“I suppose I could tell more of a child-safe version…” Marquis coughed.
The little one blinked up, head bobbing sleepily in that little head-butting thing some tired babies did.
“It was about eighty-ish years ago. Nevermind the math, dear; the numbers tell another story.”
Eighty years ago
A prime familiar from a good family—a Welsh coven operating under the name Heulwen, had been presented to the head of the Eclipse coven, sent to America by way of ship to the new world.
Damien was a prime specimen. Slight and reddish-brown haired.
He came from powerful stock, both his mage father and familiar father had given him their highest praise—which wasn’t much, because all parents thought their children were amazing.
Everyone else, though, agreed. Damien had been a prize of a choice for Baron.
The boy showed up in his finest, hair freshly trimmed and his clothes immaculate.
Baron had stared him down, checked his teeth, and picked him apart one flaw at a time.
His bottom front teeth were slightly misaligned.
His freckles were too concentrated on his shoulders, build too short, feet too wide.
And in the end, he rejected him. They’d delayed sending communication to his family that Baron had found his magic unfitting, but his family was insistent that he marry into the Eclipse coven.
His bloodline needed more powerful mages to thrive.
So, Damien had been offered to Marquis.
“You’re thinking, Oh joy, I get my brother’s discarded leftovers.” Damien stared Marquis down as they had their first meeting. Marquis wasn’t given the option of rejecting Damien, calling the union a gift.
“I think no such thing. I worry only that our magic may not be compatible.” Marquis joined hands with Damien, keeping his expression carefully neutral.
He allowed the omega a taste of his power, and it flowed like honey at first, warm and controlled.
Sweet. A little sluggish at first but rushing as quickly as Marquis could give in a moment.
Damien sighed in near pleasure, his body slackening, the stiffness in him all forgotten.
And in a blink, he shifted, his form a catty gray fox that gave a rough bark of approval.
He wound around Marquis’s ankles in a show of affection and shifted back, throwing himself against Marquis with a grin, bare as the day he was born, clothes scattered about the floor.
“Fantastic! No tutor has ever given me a taste of magic so fine. You’re strong, and we flow well. And you’re not dull. I was dead fearful that you’d be boring. They warned me you were.” Damien beamed and Marquis cleared his throat.
“Clothes, sir. I wouldn’t wish to be improper.” Marquis’s cheeks burned. The male was very fetching.
Arthur Eclipse, Marquis’s father, cleared his throat, too. “That’s enough, omega. Put some clothes on. We’ll work on communications with your family.”
Communication by mail in those days could take months if done by human means, but a letter sent through fairy portals could arrive in a day or two.
Sometimes the day before it was actually sent…
Time worked very differently when traveling between dimensions.
It also came with a side effect of creatures accidentally wandering through.