"I really don't wanna go," Marcus said from the sink where he was washing dishes left over from breakfast. It had been several days now, and what he initially thought would have been an annoyance and strain on his time to himself was doing more for his sanity than anything else. With her around, he felt more himself with each passing day.
"Well, that's very sad for you." She walked into the kitchen, sliding a hand along his shoulders before stopping at the refrigerator to fill her water bottle. "I promised your mother you would be there. Besides, the kids will be home for the weekend. They'll be excited to see you." She just grinned at his grumbling protest. "Oh, and I found where you hid your phone. It should be charged now."
"Oh…good." Marcus rolled his eyes.
Seeing his parents meant questions. Questions he either didn't have answers for, or simply couldn't. Worse than the questions, though, was the idea his family would look at him and not know what he'd been through. What he'd lost.
One crisis at a time.
After finishing the dishes, he collected his phone and plopped onto the couch as it blinked to life. A staggering one hundred and seventeen missed calls notification popped up. The texts were worse. A series of unanswered messages from his mother and Calliope that grew increasingly more unhinged the longer he stayed silent. His dad even sent one. It just said Call Me, but his father genuinely despised using his phone.
Ophelia came out of the bathroom a while later, all made up and looking absolutely stunning. She jingled her keys at him. "I'm gonna head out. See you there?"
Marcus shook his head, his brows drawing together.
"You don't wanna ride together?"
Ophelia's cheeks flushed, "Oh, I just uhh.. Didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea?" She stammered.
"That you've been staying at my apartment?" Marcus asked, his confusion heightening.
"Ummm…Yeah." She rubbed her hands on the pleated skirt she'd put on. "I'm gonna go. I'll see you in a bit." Marcus stared at the door as she hurried out before he could form a response. What the hell?
Now alone, Marcus considered turning on the Grizzly game and avoiding the entire thing. He pursed his lips and listed off the pros and cons in his head before coming to the conclusion that ditching them would be far more painful in the long run than a couple hours of agony. The real clencher, much to his surprise, was how upset he thought Ophelia would be about it. Resigned to his decision, Marcus got up about fifteen minutes later and climbed into his truck to head to his parents'.
The subtlety and grace with which his parents and Calliope practiced magic was something he'd always appreciated. Walking into his childhood home while his youngest siblings were home felt a little like it had when he was getting shot at in the Arcanex facility. The moment he opened the door, a bright red soccer ball rocketed right at him. When he got back upright after ducking, he was immediately assaulted.
"MARKY MARK!" His little brother leapt at him, wrapping his arms around his neck.
Marcus scooped up the thirteen-year-old and squeezed him. "Hey kid. It's good to see you." He held him to his chest, feet dangling, for a few more seconds before letting him down. He'd forgotten how good it felt to be someone's big brother. "How's school going?"
Laughter and love filled the house, and for a little while, it was almost like he'd been transported back.
Back before Norah died.
Before Victoria.
Before Arcanex.
Here, in the chaotic warmth of home, he could almost remember who he was.
Almost.
Marcus cleared the table after dinner, but the kitchen was not as unoccupied as he'd like. Clearly using his routine as a ruse to get him alone, his mother sipped a glass of wine and leaned against the center island.
"Are you going to tell me what actually happened?"
Marcus sat the plates down by the sink, not facing her for fear of her gaze breaking his resolve in two. "Not sure what you mean."
"You think I bought that bold-faced nonsense about you and James getting fired?" She snorted and moved to his side, setting a hand on his back. "What happened?"
"I can't really talk about it, Ma. Can we just have a fun night with the kids?" He hadn't meant for it to come out as a plea of desperation, but here he was.
"Marcus, if you're in trouble, your father and I can help. You've gotta tell us what's going on, though."
"Ma," he let out a laugh that was too sharp and plastered a fake smile on. "Its fine, honest. I'm working on getting a new job and moving on. It'll be okay."
Cassandra Tenneson was not buying the line he was selling. "If it were going to be okay, why the hesitation with telling me what's going on?"
He didn't reply at first. The laughter from the other room, the songbirds belting their last notes of the day, the clink of silverware in the sink. It was all too…normal. Too loud. His head dipped, chin tucked to his chest, and he held himself up with the hands locked to the countertop.
"I'm not in any trouble. I just can't talk about it."
"Did something happen with Victoria?" Her hand rubbed his back, warm, unwavering, and on the verge of pissing him off.
His stomach lurched as a bitter taste filled his mouth. "How do you even know about her?"
"Your sister tells me everything." She simply shrugged. "Well, if it isn't her, what is it, Marcus?"
His name in her voice, so gentle and all-knowing, made a knot form in his throat. He'd heard it a million times in nearly three decades. It was the same tone she used when he obviously needed help, but was too stubborn to ask. And it was too much.
"Please," he said firmly, turning his head to her with frustration lingering dark in his eyes. "Just drop it, Mama." The hurt that flashed across her face sent his mind reeling. "I don't want to lie to you. I just don't…I don't know how to talk about it yet."
His mother didn't press him any further. She nodded, lips pursed. "Okay. When you're ready."
Marcus took a deep breath and gave her a tight-lipped smile. Before she could pepper him with anymore questions, he leaned in and kissed her forehead before fleeing the scene as quickly as possible.
It had been almost a week since he'd had a cigarette. Somehow, despite the stress, he'd completely forgot about them until he put on an actual pair of pants and went through the motions of filling his pockets. Sat on the edge of his tailgate, kicking his legs idly, he stared down at the pack in his hands. He'd opened it, but not pulled one yet. Maybe it would help. Tiny self inflicted wounds to help quell the pain of the larger ones he couldn't control.
The front door opened and closed, briefly letting the sounds of laughter, yelling, and tiny magical explosions fill the air. He'd ordinarily be in there with them, but it was all too much tonight. Too loud and too alive. He closed the pack and pressed the bottom to his chin as the sound of bouncing steps came down the drive and along the gravel path he'd parked on. Instead of Calliope, or even Ophelia, his baby brother jump up onto the tailgate beside him with an easy grace.
"Should just toss those things, you know?" Nick gave him a warm smile.
"I know." He shook the pack a couple times and shrugged. "Can't seem to get myself to do it."
They sat in comfortable silence for a couple minutes before his brother leaned over to bounce his shoulder against his arm. "Callie says you're depressed."
"Callie is an alchemist, not a shrink." Marcus gave his brother a half-grin.
"I heard you snap at mom." Nick winced, not breaking eye contact with him. "Don't think I've ever heard you lose your cool with her before."
Marcus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just been a long week. I'm tired. I'll apologize to her before I leave."
"Probably a good idea." Nick said quietly, then gave him a sad smile. "Can I say something a little sappy?"
An inaudible chuckle formed in his chest, and Marcus shrugged. "Go for it."
Nick took a deep breath, but took a moment like he was struggling to put the words together. "I knew something was off when I was five years old." He hooked his thumb over his shoulders. "Ma was trying to get me to have a tea party, but all I wanted was to play baseball. You remember taking me out back to play catch and show me how to swing?"
"I remember." Marcus said.
"Harry and Carve were being assholes about it, and you gave them both a beating at the same time." Nick chuckled, looking over at him with misty eyes. "Then Mama whooped you for messing them up."
The brothers laughed in unison before the tone shifted to something quieter, more serious.
"I know I was just a kid, but I could tell things were different for you. Everybody loved you, of course, but you were a Mundane. It must have been so…isolating." Nick swallowed, a thin line of tears falling from the corner of his eye. "Like you were constantly trying to prove you could be just as good as them. I just remember thinking that if my big brother could shoulder that pressure. Not even shoulder it…really thrive in it. Stay kind and brave through it. I could show the world who I really was."
Marcus blinked hard, eyes burning. He slowly scooted over and wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. He wasn't sure what to say. If there was anything to say. It had never occurred to him that he'd made that kind of impact on him. On anyone, really.
Nick wiped at his eyes and beamed up at him through the streams of fluid. "You're still that guy, you know." He jabbed an index finger into Marcus' chest. "Doesn't matter what happens. You can't shake being a good man."
His eyes finally betrayed him, lines of salty tears tracking down his cheeks. He pulled Nick in, wrapping his arms around his much smaller brother and squeezing him tight for a long time.
"Oooof…" Marcus finally let him go. He let out a shaky laugh and swiped at his face. "How old are you? I thought I was the big brother?"
When Nick pulled away he didn't speak. He gave Marcus a smile, patted his shoulder, then hopped off the tailgate and headed back inside. Picking up the pack of cigarettes again and turning it over in his hands, he sat with that feeling for a few minutes. It wasn't often that he felt truly appreciated by other humans. Animals, sure, but a genuine loving connection with another human that really appreciated him just for being him…
Marcus chuckled softly and closed the tailgate to follow his brother inside. On his way back into the house, he popped open the dumpster and tossed the pack inside.
He got his mother alone later that evening and apologized for his outburst. He still couldn't tell her what she wanted, but she accepted the apology nonetheless. His younger sisters were especially talkative, and he sat and chatted with them and Ophelia for a while until his dad launched into telling old war stories.
They'd heard most of the stories a hundred times over, but while most of the Tenneson kids found them stale after multiple decades, they'd always enamored Marcus. It helped that his father was an excellent storyteller. Animated, charismatic, and vividly descriptive. He ended, as he often did, with how he'd met their mother. "…So I was laying there, fist-sized hole in my guts. Your mom comes in and bashes this guy's brains in with…"
"Alright, I think that's about enough." Cassandra interrupted, waiving a hand at him. "Who wants pie?"
It wasn't long after that the family finally started to leave. After saying his goodbyes to his parents, Ophelia caught up to him on the way out to his truck.
"Hey."
"Hey." He stopped to look back at her, beaming up at him.
"Did you have fun?" She asked, one arm crossed over her midsection.
"Yeah." Marcus nodded. He had expected the entire night to be a disaster, but honestly, it had been a relief. "Thanks for making me come."
She nodded and bit her lip before looking up at him. "Thanks for letting me stay at your place, but I think I'm ready to go back home now."
"Oh," He tried to mask it, but disappointment crept into his voice. "Alright, if that's what you wanna do."
"Yeah, I'll swing by tomorrow to pick up my stuff." Her feet awkwardly shifted on the ground for a moment before she moved in and hugged him.
Marcus pulled her in close, squeezing her to him, breathing in that familiar scent that he still couldn't place in her hair. "You're always welcome, you know. You don't have to leave." He whispered.
"I know." She said, finally letting him go. "I think it's just best if.." She paused, chewing on her lip again. "I just need a little me time."
He gave a slight nod. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow." She nodded, keeping her eyes on him as she slowly backed away a few paces. "Tomorrow." She repeated, then turned on a heel and hop skipped her way to her car.
The drive home was peaceful, though his confusion with Ophelia seemed to have come to a head. A portion of the weight that had been resting on his chest for the last week had lifted. It gave him a much needed moment to stop thinking about all the things that were forcing him down, and just breathe. For a while, he just drove, basking in the silence.
It was late into the evening before he pulled up to his complex and eased to a stop in his spot. He slowed as he climbed the stairs up to his third-floor apartment, a familiar whining sound coming from his level. As he crested the last set of stairs, his heart tugged in opposing directions.
Kane was a glimmerfang that James and Marcus had rescued as a pup. He was the runt of the litter and was left to die out in the mountains until they showed up and took him back to the reserve. The overgrown St. Bernard lept at him the moment he got to the top of the stairs, knocking him back against the wall.
"Oh, shit." Marcus grunted, catching the dog in his arms. "You're way too big for this boy."
Marcus sat him down, kneeling to snuggle against the hound's neck. Kane bounced around him, licking his neck and the side of his face. "I know, it's been a while. How did you even get here?" Kane broke from his grip and pranced around in delirious circles. "Alright, alright. Come on." Kane vanished mid-sprint into a shimmering purple haze. When Marcus got the door open, he was waiting for him on the other side with a gleeful bark. "Are they feeding you alright? Let's see what we've got for you."
Marcus dug in his fridge, pulling out a pack of steaks he was going to make for Ophelia and himself. He sighed and tossed one to his drooling visitor, who inhaled it in a single gulp. "I guess there were no rules about the reserve coming to me, were there, boy." He said, kneeling down and scratching behind Kane's ears. "We'll have to figure out what to do with you in the morning, though." Kane got low and whined at him, as dramatic as ever. "Because I don't have space for a glimmerfang in my apartment. That's why."
Marcus plopped down on the couch. Using a neatly folded hoodie that still had the feint scent of Ophelia as a pillow, Marcus turned on the television. "Reports coming in from the United Kingdom tonight. London, the apparent center of a horrific attack authorities are saying 'can only be caused by magic.' A warning, the images you're about to see are disturbing." The news woman paused a moment before a video appeared in her place. Hundreds dead out on the streets of London. A horrifically familiar black ichor seeping from their eyes, mouths, and ears. His phone immediately rang in his pocket.
Fumbling for his phone as the massive hound heaved himself up, laying across his body like he was a dog a quarter his size, he answered. "Hello?" His sister's voice came across the phone concern ringing in it. "Yeah, I'm watching."
He pulled the phone away from his face long enough to send a message to Ophelia. Are you watching the news?
"…perpetrators still unknown. Prime Minister Wilkinson just made this comment." The news woman cut away again to a video of the English Prime Minister. "We will not be intimidated. Though our great nation has not seen an attack of this like in nearly half a century, let me be clear. Those who think they can use ancient magic to divide our nation underestimate the strength of our unity. We will answer this darkness, not with fear, but with firelight."
Goosebumps prickled on Marcus' neck and forearms as he quickly checked to see if Ophelia had responded to his text. She hadn't. "This isn't good." He spoke quietly, forgetting he was even on the phone until his sister spoke again.
"Did he just say…"
"Yep.." He closed his eyes and sighed. "You gonna call Ma, or should I?"
"I'll call her, don't go to sleep."