“Aha!” Cael’s exclamation was triumphant. The vampire hybrid was, Charon decided, an addict to action, the blonde man spotting the reddened sky with relief whereas the rosey hue sat like a stone in Charon’s gut – dread.
He looked towards the sturdy, beautiful building of the gargoyles, each architectural feature considered and balanced, beautiful to the eye in the way that many of the buildings in the city did not achieve. Home, he thought, where the round cushioned bowl of the nest dominated a bedroom designed for a square bed, the scooped sides rolling all the mates together into an untidy, intimate, warm and welcoming bundle of love.
Love, he thought. That was predominant in the gargoyles’ home. Unconditional, accepting, complicated and yet all so simple love.
No, he decided as he followed Cael into the sky. He did not regret his choice. Dior was right. A child owed their parents love and care, but they did not owe them their future. There was point where the adult-child must choose mate and child above parent and sibling.
Cael’s portal opened before them, and the blonde man leaned back, catching Charon’s wrist, and pulling him through in order to close it quickly behind them. This time, Cael did not need to ask for directions, confidently leading Charon through the clouds and towards his aerie.
Charon felt the landing shudder under their landing, and he opened the door, his heart in his chest. It had occurred to him that his parents might betray him in order to save their own lives, and the lives of his siblings, sacrificing one child for the rest. He did not know if he would open the door into a room full of law-enforcers ready to arrest him and Cael.
The living area was busy, but it was not with law enforcers, but with family. Not just his parents and the children, he saw, but also his grandparents, his uncle and his family, and his cousins and their family. Over twenty people stood as he entered, the floor heavy with their children.
“Oh f-k,” Cael murmured.
“Quickly now,” Javan said sharply, and the adults grabbed from a stack of baggage against one wall. “Alright, Charon,” Javan crossed the room and grabbed him by the shoulder. “We are ready, as you requested.”
There was knock at the door and everyone froze.
“Javan? Lieke?” The neighbour directly above called out.
“Shh,” Javan gestured for Charon and Cael to pull back from the door. “This shouldn’t take long.” He walked up to the door and took a deep breath. “Efram, how can I help you?”
“Javan,” Efram said, edging towards the door. “Having a bit of a family gathering?”
“The first opportunity,” Javan replied smoothly. “For the family to gather since Tabbris’ birth. You understand, of course, Efram.”
“Of course, of course…” Efram hesitated, a foot preventing Javan from closing the door. “Except I could have sworn that I saw Charon arrive a moment ago with a blonde man. I would have thought, no, impossible, except I thought I saw him arrive about a week ago and leave again carrying a lot of paintings… and I thought, then, how odd that was.”
Javan cast an eye over the gathering of his family and sighed, seizing the neighbour by the neck of his shirt and hauling him into the house.
“Javan!” Efram exclaimed.
“Somnus,” Cael commanded, the magic sharp on the air, and Efram collapsed against Javan’s grip on his clothing. “Come on then,” he commanded sharply. “Put the busy-body onto the couch and get everyone moving. If we have attracted the attention of the neighbours, someone has notified the peace-keepers. Let us get on, before they come to arrest us.”
The room was a flurry of activity as adults claimed luggage and children and prepared to leave.
“As you say, Charon,” Javan said to his son. “We will follow.”
Charon exchanged a look with Cael.
“Let us hope the gods of luck are with us,” the blonde man said with a snarl. “This is more than I signed up for, Charon.”
They filtered out the front door, the train of relatives too obvious, Charon thought, his nerves strung tightly as he looked behind him at the straggling line of family members. He prayed to every god of luck as they dipped through the cloud cover, Cael deliberately keeping them within it for as long as possible and far longer than most found comfortable, the weight of the water heavy on their feathers.
He cast the portal within the clouds and directed them through it.
Charon heard someone call out his name but did not dare to pause to see who it was that called, ducking through the portal with Cael, the winged vampire closing it behind them with barely a hair to spare.
As they approached the city, Charon grinned. “Welcome to the Forbidden Realm,” he told his relatives.
“It is beautiful,” his mother was teary. “It is an aerie, and yet it is not.”
“This is nothing,” Charon told her honestly. “Wait until you see the rest of the land. The beauty of it will steal your heart. Here, this building is mine.” He led his family down to the gargoyles’ balcony and saw movement within the glass a moment before the door was thrown open and Dior caught him against him, thrusting his fingers into Charon’s hair and devouring his mouth with a fury that left Charon breathless and clutching at the other male’s back.
Dior released him. “Our mate, you have brought us an entire pack,” he observed his eyes sweeping along the assortment of winged men, women and children. “Welcome, kin of our mate, come inside, let us make you at home,” he gestured expansively towards the glass door, and Charon heard Verity, Blaise and Etienne’s voices as they greeted his family as they moved into the apartment.
“Cael,” Dior greeted the winged vampire. “We thank you for this service to our family.”
Cael grinned and shrugged. “Perhaps one day the favour will be returned, stone heart, but in the interim, enjoy your in-laws,” his grin was mischievous as he leapt into the air.
They watched him winged towards Elior’s building and land on the rooftop. “Charon,” Dior caught his face between his hands and kissed him, breathlessly. “It is a happy day. You have been successful in bringing your large family home,” he was undaunted by the number of them, Charon saw, with relief. “And Verity has confirmed that she carries cubs.”
“Cubs,” Charon inhaled sharply. “Verity is pregnant?” His smile was slow. It was not, he thought, his child, but that did not matter in the slightest. Any child born to their family, was a child to all of them. “Really?” He felt the excitement build within his chest. “A baby?”
“Babies,” Dior corrected warmly. “Gargoyles have triads.”
Charon laughed. “Of course, they do.”
Within the apartment, Blaise was in the kitchen, digging into the gargoyle’s supplies without hesitation, in order to lay out a feast for the sudden invasion of winged Nephilim. The floor was heavy with crawling babies and toddlers, and the older children explored the bedrooms without embarrassment and with plenty of curiosity.
“You sleep in a nest?” One of Charon’s cousins asked Etienne.
“Of course,” Etienne replied. “What do you sleep in?”
“Which one is your mate?” Charon’s mother, Lieke, wondered.
“All of them,” Charon told her. “Gargoyles mate in triads, and Verity, of course, is our female mate… Our pregnant female mate,” he expanded with pride.
“Pregnant?” Lieke’s eyes warmed immediately. “Charon?”
“Not likely to be mine this time,” he admitted. “But next time, maybe? Does it matter?”
“No, I guess not,” she wrapped her arms around him. “It is a more unusual arrangement, but, Charon, you were right. Look at this home,” she gestured around them. “Look at your mates,” she swept her eyes over the gargoyles and Verity. “They are,” her voice grew quiet. “All so beautiful, Charon. Amazingly beautiful.”
“Yes, mother,” he agreed with pride. “Inside and out.”
“People,” she took his hand and looked up at him. “And not slaves. Of course, of us all, Charon, you would see that. You have always been one to see the beauty in all things. It is throughout your art.” There was pride in her voice.
“I try,” he pulled her into an embrace. “I have been very lucky, mother. I am so happy that I get to share my luck with my family. You will be happy here. You will see. The only thing wrong with this world is that our people attack it.”