When Mathilde let him and Sal inside, Nuncio tried to hide how nervous he felt. The clothes were beyond salvaging. Nuncio didn’t need to be a washer woman to see that. The black suit had been meant for dancing and socializing with aristocrats, but he had gone on an adventure wearing it.

“Your father won’t be pleased when he sees you like this.” Mathilde said and then glanced at the yard: “Or when he finds the scratches on the car.”

There was an unmistakable undercurrent of cruelty in Mathilde’s pleasant tone. One Nuncio had learned to recognize years ago. Talking with Mathilde was like walking through a grass field hiding serpents. You could never know when you’d be bitten.

“I’ll… worry about that then.” Nuncio said.

Sal just laughed.

“When he hears about all the merry hell, we raised to get back even this… presentable, he will be too busy being impressed to get mad.” Sal said.

Nuncio smiled and then forced himself to look Mathilde in the eyes. Mathilde’s face was pretty and kindly but even the glamour couldn’t hide the fact that her eyes were cold and hard as hailstones.

“I am going to see my mother. Could you run us a bath and find us some clean clothes?”

“Master Capello is about my size. Do you think he would mind if I borrowed his unmentionables?” Sal asked.

Mathilde’s next words slipped out like a snake’s head from tall grass.

“The master’s clothes are master’s alone.” Mathilde said.

“Sal can borrow mine.” Nuncio said and looked at the stairs leading to the basement: “I am… going to see my mother now.”

“I’ll go with you. I would like to pay my respects to the lady of the house.” Sal said.

When Sal tried to follow him, Mathilde blocked his path with her hand.

“Only family can see her. Master’s orders. She is very sick.”

There was a slight shift in the air like a gust of wind that prophesized a coming storm. Sal and Mathilde glared each other like armies ready to do battle.

“Sal…”

Sal looked at him and Nuncio pleaded to him with his eyes.

“Please. It’s okay.” Nuncio said.

“As you say.” Sal said and gave him a slight bow: “Send my regards to your mother.”

Nuncio smiled before heading downstairs. Even now that he was a grown man past twenty, taking the steps made him feel like a terrified child wandering into The Wyrding with a self-made stake in hand. When he got to the door, he had to take a moment to prepare himself. It never stopped hurting. Seeing what his father’s cruelty had done to his mother.

After a moment he opened the door.

The room was a sea of flowers, but they were flowers you would leave on a grave. His mother rested in the middle of it all, so thin and still that Nuncio was afraid that she had perished while he had been away. The faded eyes stared at the flowers, seeing nothing. But then she blinked and looked at him.

The smile made her seem a bit more like her old self.

“… Nuncio.”

“Hi, mom.”

He sat by her bed and took her hand. Her thin, bony hand. You could almost see through the skin. Like everything else about her, her touch was so weak. He looked wearily at the machine she had been connected to like it was a cancerous growth. A metal monstrosity with tubes running into her veins, draining her blood with the press of a button so that father could feed without the risk of losing himself to the bite. His father… had reduced his mother to cattle that could be milked at his leisure.

“… your face is so dirty.”

“I’ve had… helluva few days, mom.”

“… did you take Elysa with you?”

“No. She’s… with father. We talked about this. She’s off to meet her new fiancé.”

Mother looked confused for a moment. Then she nodded.

“… I remember.” Mother said and looked at him: “… what kind of a man is he? Is he… kind?”

Nuncio closed his eyes and could see the Lionheart break through father’s control for a moment to defend him.

“He is strong.”

“… oh.” Mom said, sounding disappointed: “… it would have been better if he was kind.”

Nuncio bit his lip and looked at the prison filled with flowers.

“He has kind friends and… mom… I made a new friend. He came to visit me.”

Father had fed on mom until his fangs had reached the bone but that had just revealed the steel core of her soul. Her eyes became clear, and her gaze was sharp as a dagger.

“Tell him to run. Right now. He has to run and never come back here.”

“I will, mom. I will.” Nuncio said and then leaned down to whisper in her ear: “Hold on for just a bit longer. We’re leaving this place tonight.”

There was a flicker of desperate hope in mom’s eyes. The kind she tried to snuff out to save herself from more pain. Hell only had power over you if you dreamed of heaven.

“… Pietro…”

“I have friends now, mom. More than just one. They’ve promised to help.” Nuncio said and kissed her forehead: “Rest now. We’re leaving tonight.”

Mom stared at him for a long time like he was a book in a language she didn’t understand. Then she nodded slowly and rested her head against the pillows.

“… I would like to sleep now, Nuncio.”

“You should. Goodnight, mom.”

When Nuncio left the cellar and started walking upstairs, he heard Mathilde make a call. Nuncio bit his lip and then rushed to another room with a phone. All the phone lines in the house were connected so if you wanted to listen in on someone, all you had to do was pick up the receiver and hold your breath.

A few rings went by before the call was picked up and Nuncio heard his father’s deep, commanding voice.

“Master, its Mathilde.”

“I presumed as much.” Father said: “What do you want?”

“It’s Nuncio. He’s come back.”

Silence fell like guillotine and father took a deep breath like a dead man’s last gasp.

“What?” Father said before growling: “Did he bring the car with him?”

“That’s not all he brought. He has that gypsy with him. The one calling himself Torrini.” Mathilde said.

“He did what?!”

Nuncio’s heart shriveled in his chest when father raised his voice.

“And he says he’s hired him. There has even been talk about salary.” Mathilde said.

“Salary, huh?” Father said and tapped a desk with his talons on the other end: “Tell me about the car. There better not be a single bloody dent on it.”

“I wish that were so, master.”

“Goddamn it!” Father screamed before his voice dropped into a rumbling growl: “Keep them there. I am flying over tonight to deal with this mess personally.”

“As you wish, master.” Mathilde said.

Nuncio waited for Mathilde to end the call before putting down the receiver. Then his hands began shaking. Whenever father was ready to deliver punishment, he just wanted to break down and cry in the vain hope that tears could soften father’s heart.

Just a week ago he would have done just that, but a lot could change in a week.

He was no longer alone. He had friends now. Heroes who had taken his side. This would end tonight. He would save mom and Elysa and then they would start salvaging their lives from the ruins.

“Well?”

Sal moved quietly as a specter, and he had snuck into the room without Nuncio noticing. He forced himself to smile and a cocky grin spread on Sal’s lips.

“He fell for it.”

“Perfect. Now… what do you say we take a bath? I am covered in… I don’t even want to know what.” Sal said.

There was a wooden bathhouse built in the backyard filled with expensive soaps father had acquired during his business ventures. Water from a nearby stream could be directed through a pipe system to the large stone tub that was then warmed up by a furnace set up underneath it. All you had to do was turn a few handles and light a fire. Mathilde had already set them up with towels and clean clothes as per his orders.

“This might come as a shock to you.” Sal said while they undressed: “But me thinks your maid is a vampire.”

“I am well aware.” Nuncio said.

“Good. That is good. It is good to be aware of things.”

Sal’s physique came as a shock to Nuncio when he was out of the dirty rags. Clothes made him look spindly but underneath all the cloth were the kinds of muscles you would need to run down prey for miles at an end and then fight it to death when you caught it. For a moment Nuncio could only stare at the muscular back and toned limbs.

And blush when he realized Sal had noticed him stare.

He averted his eyes and stared at his feet.

“I… if you prefer privacy… I can let you wash first.” Nuncio said.

“No. This suits me fine.” Sal said and finished stripping.

His cheeks were burning when he climbed into the tub and not from the heat. Sal checked the temperature with his toe before dipping his legs in and then submerging his head. Water ran down the thick, black hair and Sal brushed the wet hair back by running his fingers through it. A relived sigh escaped his lips when the water soothed the bruises from the kelpie’s kicks.

“The stolen Wyrd Stones are near.” Sal said and studied his hands: “The magic of The Wyrding is bleeding over. I can feel my powers returning.”

“Father likes having a quick access to The Wyrding.” Nuncio said.

“As do I.” Sal said and stared at the bathhouse’s ceiling: “Is it always so cloudy in here?”

“Always. Father doesn’t trust an open sky.”

“Can’t say I blame him. I’d be pretty paranoid too if the sun was out to get me. Still… a pity. I won’t see the stars tonight.”

“I guess you like the stars.” Nuncio said.

“And you don’t?”

“I… Mordesai… he had a built a huge planetarium on top of Storm Roost.”

The blue eyes widened with wonder and… envy.

“You have seen it? Did… did he show you the telescope? Is it really as big as a factory’s chimney?”

“Bigger. He even let me look through it. You could see into other planets with it.” Nuncio said.

“And… what did you see?” Sal asked.

“Horrors.” Nuncio said and bit his lip: “Do you know about the conquerors that came from the stars?”

“Yes. They came here centuries ago with their flying steel castles and Mordesai burned them all.” Sal said.

“Yeah. Mordesai has been trying to find out where they came from… and what they were running from.” Nuncio said.

A nervous silence washed over them when they tried to imagine what could scare an army so badly that they had sailed through the stars just to get away from it. Then Sal let out a chuckle that was almost lighthearted.

“Suckers. Running away from a monster and straight into the jaws of a dragon.” Sal said.

Nuncio’s fingers brushed against the mole under his eye.

“You’re not… afraid?”

“I was in that rat cave… when I couldn’t fight back. It’s hard to be brave when you’re helpless and… I have died before. I’m in no hurry to do that again.”

“We all owe God a death.” Nuncio said.

“I’ll pay it when its due and not a second earlier.” Sal said.

Nuncio nodded and then splashed water on his face.

“If you died… couldn’t the fox queen just… eat your spirit and give birth to you again?”

“I doubt there would have been much left of me after the rats were done with me and… even if my mother gave birth to me again… Sal’s shape and memories would be lost.” Sal said.

“You’re really going to live his life for him?” Nuncio asked.

“Some people have lives worth living and… I like being Salvatore Torrini. I like having a name.”

Sometimes, if the angle was just right, Nuncio could see the shadow of a black fox in Sal’s features. He could hear the skin-changer prince’s power hiding between his words.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… which one are you? Sal? Or His Savage Highness?”

Sal smirked and put up his hand. The lantern hanging from the ceiling painted shadow puppets on the wall.

“Both.” Sal said and the shadow of his hand became a man on the wall: “And neither.”

The shadow puppet of a man turned into a fox.

“Salvatore Torrini… His Savage Highness… both are just shadows on the wall. The shadow might change but the hand is always mine.”

After getting out of the bath, Nuncio shaved and scrubbed himself clean with soap while Sal groomed his beard carefully with small scissors. Just in time for a light dinner. Mathilde had laid out clothes for them and Sal borrowed Nuncio’s older set although the height difference forced him to roll up the sleeves and trousers.

When they returned to the house a table with cold meats, cheeses, bread, and fruits had been laid out for them and Mathilde had picked a mild wine to wash them down with. Even though father wasn’t there, which technically made Nuncio master of the house, he avoided his father’s seat at the end of the table and took his usual spot. Sal sat across him and looked at the food approvingly.

“I must admit that this is some mighty fine eating.” Sal said.

Mathilde gave him a terse smile that couldn’t have been cooler.

“Glad it’s to your liking. We’re not used to hosting gypsies, so I wasn’t sure what your ilk likes.” Mathilde said.

“No one’s perfect. I am just glad that the Capellos have found such good help.” Sal said.

Mathilde grimaced at being called help and Nuncio chewed his lip nervously. What the hell was Sal thinking? Needling a vampire like that?

“It’s not so bad being helpful. If you’re not, you’re just an… infestation that can only steal, lie and cheat.” Mathilde said.

“I see you’ve entertained politicians before.” Sal said and tried his wine: “Excellent stuff… but if I wasn’t one, I say we should hang them all.”

Sal started buttering a piece of rye bread.

“And let’s not kid ourselves. I am at the very least guilty by association. I did partake in the selling and purchasing of one human female. I just hope Cassio and Elysa will be happy.”

“I hope so too.” Mathilde said sharply.

Sal kept smiling and then looked at his empty glass and the wine bottle that was resting right next to his hand. He picked up the bottle, then changed his mind and put it back down.

“I would like some more wine now, please.” Sal said.

Mathilde’s eyes narrowed and Nuncio was terrified that she would leap at Sal with her fangs and talons bared.

“Mathilde… he is our guest. Wait… until father gets here.” Nuncio said.

Mathilde’s cheek twitched but then she smiled like a child putting off opening her presents.

“You’re right.” Mathilde said and picked up the wine bottle.

Her glare was dripping poison when she filled Sal’s glass but Sal… he just looked at her with those far too blue eyes of his that saw far too deep. Had a fly buzzed past them, it would have fallen dead to the table while the skin-changer and vampire stared at each other like high-stake poker players who considered going for their hidden knives.

But they didn’t and Mathilde stood back while they finished their dinner and emptied the wine bottle.

After dinner, Sal visited the restroom and Nuncio went to his room to clear his mind. He stared at the grey scenery when he felt cold talons on his shoulders.

“I don’t think I much care for your friend.” Mathilde said and rubbed her cheek against his: “And don’t think master will forgive you just because you brought him a treat. Not after what you did to the car.”

Nuncio shivered but remained quiet.

“But don’t worry. Even if master is cross with you, I will never abandon you.” Mathilde said.