Reconnecting Six
The letter came as a surprise, several times over, as it arrived upon Beatrice Belmont’s desk.
The first – and most glaringly apparent – was that it appeared on its own. The sender had pierced through several of the densest warding arrays and security measures north of California to deliver it directly. When the aging head of her august family saw it, she already knew that none of the practitioners she trusted enough to enter the vaults, much less her own private sanctum where the desk resided, had placed it there.
She knew equally well that there would be no evidence of it being done, even if the bound and lingering spirits that composed the house’s security were to be questioned. Her child had always been connected with them, even before the…heresy.
The second surprise, though it was really more of a foregone conclusion, was that it was from the eldest of her three scattered offspring. The letter wasn’t paper, parchment, papyrus, or any other mundane writing material. No, from the envelope to the message she could already envision within, it was a slip of still-living flesh.
Hairless and smooth, it bled with a piteous wail from an unseen mouth as she slid a knife through the blinded eye upon the flap. The symbolism wasn’t lost on her. Nor was the very clear symbol marking it as coming from the halls of Haven’s eccentric lord. It lacked the gravitas of having come from that most intimidating being who, in all his capricious glory, had barred anyone associated with House Belmont from entering his demesne.
That largest of immaterial cities enmeshed within the Roads had once been the family’s lifeblood. All it had taken was one errant child with a grudge and more guts than brains to end that and threaten the family’s future. The same child who, she knew, had sent the letter.
Really, she had to admit to herself, the only surprise was that she had gotten an answer at all.
Before her eyes, the skin shuddered. Then looping, glowing red lines of text made themselves clear upon the sobbing flesh.
“Dearest Mother,
I write to inform you that I will be returning home come midsummer. The news of my esteemed mentor’s death has reached Haven, yet my current contract does not allow sufficient time to make the journey to pay my respects. It seems that for all their connection, my lord values my service too highly to make a dispensation. I wish to inform you that, due to this, it will not be renewed.
If you and your esteemed House desire my services, the bidding will begin shortly after my arrival and conclude upon my departure.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
My itinerary at this moment does not include any interaction with the wider family. I will be rendezvousing with my sister before arrival, as part of the escort required by the Keepers of the Ivory Grave for my visits to the area. I am led to believe she will be nearby, regardless.
Neither of us plan to call on the Belmont estate, so there is no need to make any of the extensive preparations I am sure you would plan for such a reunion. I will call briefly on the Council, if time permits, and my visit will likely conclude once I have spoken to the girls. There are things best said in person concerning their mother and myself that I believe should not remain buried. Secrets left to fester bring nothing but harm, I have found.
Of course, I do not believe I have any need to educate you on the subject, Honored Head of the House.
While I would prefer to end this letter here, decorum requires that I address your previous missives: they have been received. Their contents are now and shall remain unknown, as an exceedingly ravenous sprite has been attracted to my current domicile. I am led to believe that this particular variety feeds on desperation, but surely these are just vile rumors spread by our family’s villainous adversaries.
As I have reiterated before, I do not wish to burden the family’s coffers or your own hands with the strain of writing such communiques. While doubtless you and the rest of the House’s elders know best, I will once again ask that you cease to do so. I believe this is the twenty-seventh time I have made this preference known.
I would not dare to cast aspersions or believe myself possessed of a greater education than yourself, exalted mother, but that means my request has been made thrice by thrice by thrice again. The significance of such shall come across unsaid, I am sure, but my compact with the various orders of Witch Hunters requires me to inform you that continuing to ignore such a clearly reinforced and reasonable request will result in a minor sympathetic curse unless you argue successfully of a pressing need in front of the local powers regulating the layers beneath mortal notice.
If you feel inclined to try, please send them my regards. I do so miss speaking with them.”
The letter, as if it sensed when she read that far, split open below the signature line and began to read it aloud with a toothless mouth.
Your Proud Son,
Geoffrey Raife Belmont”
The aging enchanter fed the page into the candle in front of her with a scowl before it could finish. She ignored the scream it made as the elemental ensconced within devoured it, then waved away the cloud of acrid smoke.
The envelope went in next.
As if the sender had expected that, the non-sentient elemental she’d caged in her youth flickered out and died. The second piece of skin burned into a foul-smelling blue gas that soaked into everything in the room. With a dispassionate sigh and a wave of her hand, a wardstone that had taken her weeks to carve while she was pregnant with this impudent child sucked in the smoke before it could eat away at the less durable enchantments lining the room.
The stone cracked, and she dropped its pieces into the trash.
She was already expecting the other elders to revive old complaints about how she had handled that whole situation. Again. So, ignoring the warning, she started another letter. The tightening in her joints as the curse took hold was just a reminder of the stakes and the sacrifices she had made for her position. She would talk sense into her deluded daughter, regardless of how stubborn and entrenched the girl was in her rebellion.
Family was everything. No amount of outside support or magical mutilation would cut those ties.