Caius D'Onofrio (poweroftheeye) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2018-07-01 08:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | #group scene, #november 2017, anthony, caius, caius x reagan, reagan |
Who: Reagan and Caius, and Anthony
When: Wednesday, Nov 1, twilight
Where: Reagan’s house
Status: Complete
The ritual to break the curse was complicated, and Caius had spent all day preparing and setting it up. He’d found a powerful bit of magic in one of his old books, and it had only needed a bit of tweaking in the language to suit their purposes. He hoped, anyway. Sebastian McCarthy’s blood was going to be a powerful tool, but the rest of it had to be right, too, or they would have wasted their time and effort, and nobody wanted that. Least of all Sebastian, probably.
They began at twilight, a time of transitioning, and Caius was very careful as he closed the circle in Reagan’s work room and called on the elements to assist the both of them. Chanting in Latin, he used the paste he’d made from a mixture of the boy’s blood and their own blood and various herbs to paint symbols onto both his and Reagan’s bare bodies, then drew even more things onto the floor between their feet. Reagan had memorized part of the incantations as well, and Caius felt the magic begin to flow around them as he took both her hands in his and stood facing her. Their voices mingled together just as the flesh of their hands did, getting louder and stronger as the energies started to pick up between them.
It was a force of will just as much as anything else, and he stared hard into his wife’s eyes, focusing with all he had on banishing this darkness that surrounded them. The light and temperature around the circle started to fluctuate wildly, a rumble from nowhere shaking the jars on Reagan’s shelves. Caius saw fire flashing here and there in the air, untethered to anything, but he didn’t dare look away from Reagan’s gaze. Baron’s magic wasn’t going to die easily, just as she hadn’t, but with both of their power combined, he knew they could beat it.
This was Reagan's first foray into serious blood magic, beyond the simpler spells she would use for customers, and occasionally herself. She wasn't terribly worried about the backlash, given they were trying to break a curse rather than curse someone, but she was still well aware of the fact that it wouldn't be easy, and maybe even painful. They had practiced and planned meticulously and Reagan had complete faith in Caius. He was powerful, and he knew it, and his confidence in the spell they were performing made her confident that it would work.
They were focused on each other now, their nude bodies married with blood and herbs and their elements awake and engulfing them as they spoke the proper words to start unraveling the dark magic that had cursed their bloodlines for centuries. Just as she had predicted, it wasn't easy. Her body responded to the extreme changes in temperature and at some point, it felt as if a million tiny needles were thrusting into her flesh, causing her to break out in a sweat from the discomfort. But Reagan never faltered in speaking the incantation forcefully and loudly, her hands tightening around Caius's whenever she started to feel faint. The floor shook beneath them and Reagan could hear something fall from one of her shelves, shattering as it made contact with the counter beneath it.
The longer it took, the more her body ached. Reagan's chest was tight, like someone, or something, was trying to cut off the oxygen, but she pushed through it, aware that if she gave up or stopped, they could be seriously hurt, or the spell would fail. Fire sparked in her peripheral, and she could see something small had caught fire on the counter to her left, though she refused to tear her eyes away from Caius's to see what it was. Baron would burn them to death if she had to. But... no, Reagan and Caius wouldn't let that happen. It felt like they were exorcising another demon, only this one was much, much worse, and much stronger. But she and Caius were strong too. Stronger. Their blood combined with Sebastian's overpowered whatever magic Baron had placed on their families, and Reagan could feel it when the spell began to work. Because it was working.
Reagan was breathing harder now, her eyes locked on Caius's as their voices grew louder. The wind picked up in the room, swirling around them, knocking things over, shattering the glass, whipping her hair painfully across her face. She held onto Caius tightly, but then they were ripped apart, the magic exploding between them, sending them flying backwards from each other. Reagan hit the ground on her back and for a brief moment, everything was silent and still. The room had stopped shaking, the wind had dissipated. All of the candles had been extinguished but for the ones that were set up around the circle where she and Caius had stood, so the room was darker than before, but still lit. Reagan groaned and carefully rolled onto her side. She could see small shimmery pieces of glass around her from her ingredient jars, but she paid them no mind. "Caius," Reagan murmured, sitting up slowly.
The effort was monumental. It hurt, but Caius felt almost separated from the pain, like he’d been removed from his body. He just kept pushing, kept focusing on the words and forcing the magic out into the universe to do what he needed it to do. His hands gripped Reagan’s tight, aware that they had to act as a unit here. They were one, they were the representatives of their bloodlines, finally together and strong enough to overcome what had been plaguing their families for so long. He felt it working too, felt some bonds starting to break, like they were prying apart rusty chains. Caius’s voice felt like a distinct entity, something else entirely, forceful and loud, saying the words over and over again, telling Baron beyond the veil that her power over them was broken.
He tried to hold onto Reagan’s hands when the blow came, but the magic was too strong and then his sense of gravity was thrown off and his footing was ripped away. Caius landed on his back as well, his head bouncing off of the floor. Everything went dark for him, he was out cold, but there wasn’t stillness in his mind. It was a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts and memories screaming around and around in a confusing mess while his body lay limp and sill on the floor. His brows flexed a tiny bit as something fundamental came undone in his brain, but otherwise he didn’t move.
Reaching up to grab the edge of her counter, Reagan pulled herself to her feet. It was so quiet in the room that she might have thought she'd gone deaf if not for her harsh breathing. Everything ached, but she was fairly certain she wasn't seriously injured. There might be a few bruises from the fall, but nothing a little magic wouldn't fix. Despite the darkness of the room and the subtle scent of smoke and blood, the air felt lighter, cleaner somehow. Reagan spotted Caius on the other side of the room, but he wasn't moving. "Caius," Reagan said again, louder this time. She hurried past the candles and drawn circle to where he was laying. There was a brief moment of panic before she saw his chest rise and fall. He was alive, but unconscious. Reagan knelt down beside him and searched him for any obvious injury before leaning over him to cup his cheek.
"Caius," Reagan said again, more firmly this time. She had smelling salts in a drawer that she would use if she couldn't rouse him, and Reagan was already wondering how long it would take to get him cleaned up enough to take him to the hospital to check for any head injuries. Reagan patted his cheek, reaching for his hand with her free one to grip it tightly. "Caius? Come on, wake up."
Caius twitched under Reagan’s touch, a soft murmur of some kind of protest escaping his lips. He wasn’t conscious, not yet, but there was so much going on in his brain that he didn’t want ... it was a struggle, like trying not to drown. His dark lashes fluttered as his eyes moved restlessly under the lids, another pained expression crossing his face. It took a moment or two -- that felt like a confusing, windswept eternity to him -- but his consciousness finally started to bubble upward.
His eyes slowly opened and Caius tried to take stock of what the fuck was going on. He was lying on the floor, he was cold all over, his head hurt. His extremities were tingling and buzzing in that way that happened when he’d been pushing himself magically. His vision took a moment and several blinks to focus, and when it did, a woman’s face was in his view. A brunette. She looked worried. Caius didn’t recognize her. He frowned vaguely, feeling muddled and confused ... where the fuck was he? He brought his free hand up to rub at his face, the movement feeling clumsy and too slow.
As soon as Caius's eyelashes fluttered, Reagan exhaled softly, the tension in her muscles easing as she sunk a bit more comfortably to the floor beside him. Caius looked confused and a bit disoriented, but given he had been knocked out by the magic, that wasn't surprising. "Hey," Reagan murmured, placing her hand gently on his chest. "It's okay. The magic just... it felt like it exploded. But I think it worked, Caius. Are you all right? Can you sit up?" He would need to be checked out if he had a concussion. Reagan wasn't sure how hard he hit his head, but the fact that he was awake was a relief. They both needed to get cleaned up and get dressed and start cleansing the room, so none of the dark magic lingered. But god, first she wanted to kiss him and celebrate, because she was feeling beyond confident that the spell had been a success.
The hand on his bare chest made him realize all at once that he was naked, and a quick stab of fear lanced through Caius. He was somewhere he didn’t recognize, with a woman he didn’t know, nude on the floor, with magic still fading from the air. She knew his name, but he didn’t know hers. He did sit up, rather abruptly, and pushed the woman’s hands away from him, scooting back a bit and pulling his legs up protectively. His dark eyes got a little wider as they darted around to make more sense of the room around him. It definitely looked like a ritual had happened, but to what ends? Fuck, his head hurt. “I don’t ... where am I?” he asked, more alarm coming into his expression. “Who are you?” he added with rising urgency. He felt like he should know her face, especially if they were doing skyclad magic together, but there was nothing but blankness in his mind when he looked at her and that was more than a little terrifying.
Reagan's blinked quickly, startled and confused at his reaction to her. The way he scooted back from her reminded her in a vague way of how Hunter Barrett had reacted after she and Caius exorcised the demon that had been possessing him. He had understandably been upset, not knowing where he was, or what had happened. Reagan and Caius had been strangers to him. But this... this was different. Caius knew her. This was his home. Surely he hadn't hit his head that hard, had he? "It's okay," Reagan said, keeping her tone calm despite the turmoil starting to form in the pit of her stomach. "It's me, Reagan. You were knocked unconscious after we broke the curse. You're just disoriented. Just take a minute and breathe and see if it comes back to you. Do you know who you are?" Reagan asked, since that seemed to be a rather important question, if he was having some memory issue.
Reagan? Like the president? “Curse?” he echoed, a bit breathless. He felt a little dizzy, but he didn’t know if that was from the pain in his head or the disorientation or something else. Caius shook his head at her, even as he answered “Caius D’Onofrio.” He knew that much, he just didn’t know where he was or why, or who Reagan was supposed to be. He’d never been a fan of feeling vulnerable, and in that scary moment of not knowing what the fuck had been done to him, he felt it keenly. He glanced down at himself, at the symbols painted on his body in what looked -- and smelled -- like blood, and his heart picked up even more speed. Caius gave the woman a mistrustful look and started to push himself to his feet. “Where are my clothes?”
He knew who he was. That was a good sign, at least, though it was unnerving that Caius didn't seem to know who she was, or why he was there. Reagan's heart began to beat harder in her chest, but she refused to panic. It was probably just backlash, a side effect of some kind. They had performed complex, dark magic without knowing what the consequences could be. She just had to talk him through this. Even so, the look he gave her had Reagan frowning, and she moved to stand as he did. "They're folded just outside the room," she said dismissively. Reagan took a step toward him, her dark brows drawn together in concern. "Caius, you're having some memory issues. I don't know if it's backlash, or something else. Does your head hurt? What is the last thing you remember?" If he couldn't remember her, what did he remember? His job? Family? So much of her life was tied to his that this was hard to really comprehend. How could he remember who he was, but not her?
Caius took a step back when Reagan moved toward him. She was between him and the door, and he didn’t like that. Part of him wanted to get angry, to question her -- who was she to him, why was he there, what had she done to him. She was talking about backlash and asking him questions, and it was hard to focus on her words when all he wanted to do was get out of there. But the question of what was the last thing he remembered was a good one. Caius looked at the floor and tried to concentrate and remember. Everything was fuzzy, it felt jumbled ... “Being ... at work,” he murmured finally, looking up at Reagan’s face again. “Yesterday? I don’t ... I don’t know. ... but I have to leave.” The last bit came out more firm, like he already knew she was going to protest. Keeping one hand slightly up as if to fend her off, Caius started to move around her toward the door. He needed his clothes, he needed his car, he needed to go home. And possibly call his father.
Being at work. He didn't remember her birthday? Taking her out on a yacht? That first, cold sliver of fear seeped into her consciousness, the realization that this might be bad. Really bad. He was watching her like she might strike out at him like a snake. Caius had woken up not knowing who she was, or where he was, and he was naked and covered in magic symbols drawn on his body with blood. Was this backlash? Or something more. She didn't know, and she wasn't sure how she could tell. But she knew someone who would. All Reagan knew was she couldn't let Caius leave, not in the condition he was in. Not with the magic they had just performed and the confusion they were both dealing with now. "You need to stay," Reagan said, just as firmly as he had spoken. The time for panic was later. Right now she needed answers. "This is your home, Caius. You live here. I don't know what happened during that spell, but... you're in no condition to go anywhere. I need to call your father. He'll know what to do." Knowing Caius, her Caius, he probably wouldn't like that. This had been something they were going to do together, without parental interference, but it felt necessary now. Reagan was not equipped to deal with memory loss. If there was any witch in Point Pleasant who could, it was Anthony.
His thick brows drew together when she said that was his home. Caius didn’t recognize the room in the slightest. He definitely didn’t live there. The fact that she was talking about calling his father was even more confusing though -- if she’d magically kidnapped him or something, that wouldn’t make any sense. He didn’t like the way she told him he had to stay however, and his expression hardened up. He would fight his way out of here if he had to. “I want my clothes, and I want my phone, now,” he demanded. He would call his own father, and surely Anthony would clear this up somehow. “Unless you’re holding me against my will? You’ll regret it.” She hadn’t done anything overtly threatening, and she seemed to be confused by his reaction to her, so Caius didn’t want to hurt her, but he would if she tried to keep him locked up and naked. He would not be held.
"Against your will?" Reagan huffed incredulously, but then closed her eyes and brought her hands up to her face to calm herself before things got out of control. He didn't know her. It was temporary, it had to be, but it was still difficult to wrap her brain around it, to not rise defensively to that tone of his, one she was so used to hearing over the years before an argument ensued. They just needed to get out of this room. Then they could get dressed, call Anthony and figure this out. Reagan lowered her hands and walked over to pull the work room door open. The lamps in the living room were still on, casting a cozy glow in the room. Their clothes had been discarded earlier and Reagan motioned to Caius's on the armchair as she picked up the simple dress she had worn that day and pulled it on over her head. There were framed photos of them in the room, throughout the house actually, along with their families and a few of the people they considered friends. A lot of his things had already been brought over from his house in Overlook. Clothed enough now, Reagan picked up his phone from the fireplace mantle and held it out to him. "You should let me talk to Anthony. He's not going to understand what you're talking about if you don't remember what happened."
Still wary, Caius followed her out of the room, leaving a bit of space between them. He cast glances around, but he was more focused on his clothes than any photos or decor at the moment. It was so bizarre to recognize the pants and shirt that were draped on the chair, but not anything else in the room. Caius hurriedly shook the pants out and pulled them on, then tugged the soft t-shirt that was with them. He tapped the back pocket for his wallet but there was nothing there. Another thing he would have to find before he got the fuck out of there. It helped to have clothes on, it made him feel less vulnerable and exposed and a bit more in control of the situation. He took the few steps closer to Reagan and reached out to snatch his phone -- which he also recognized, thankfully. He was about to tell her that he was perfectly capable of explaining when one of the framed photos on the mantle really caught his eye. It was of the two of them, Caius’s arm around Reagan, both of them smiling. A picture of a couple, obviously. Seemingly a happy one. It wasn’t the only one, either, there were several up there, different poses, different places, different clothes, but the same intent. The edges of Caius’s vision sparkled as he stared at them, and he heard a high whine in his ears. He didn’t remember taking any of them. He didn’t remember any of it. “I don’t ... know what’s happening,” he murmured very softly, through numb-feeling lips.
"I don't either," Reagan said softly. He had spotted the photographs, and the confusion in his eyes seemed to only deepen. She couldn't freak out. Wouldn't freak out. That wouldn't help either of them. But there had to be a solution to this. Something glitched in the spell. If Caius had hit his head hard enough to cause selective amnesia, he would be suffering physically and need to be in the hospital, but he appeared perfectly fine right now, except for the obvious confusion. Reagan licked her lips and glanced around for her own phone, which she then grabbed from the coffee table. She needed to call Anthony. Despite her calm exterior, Reagan was pale and her hands were trembling a bit as she brought up her contacts. Her engagement ring and wedding band caught her eye and Reagan swallowed hard as she looked over at Caius. Something would trigger his memory of her, she was sure of it. "Can I call your father?" she asked, having brought up Anthony's name in her phone contacts. Reagan would have just done it without his permission, but given the circumstances, she didn't want him to be mistrustful of her, and it felt like the right thing to ask him before proceeding.
Caius hadn’t even registered the ring on his finger yet. He seemed to be stuck for the moment, staring at those pictures. He recognized his own face, of course, and even a couple of shirts he was wearing. Technically, he could recognize that was Reagan in the photos with him, but as much as he struggled, he could not remember taking them. Was he losing his shit? Had he slipped into some alternate dimension. Caius felt dizzy all of the sudden, and he slowly moved to sit down on the edge of the nearest chair. He’d intended to call Anthony himself, to demand to know if his father knew anything about this, get confirmation that this woman was just nuts, but he didn’t seem to have any words at the moment, so he just nodded to Reagan’s question. Caius set his phone on his thigh and rubbed at his face with both hands. That was when he realized he was wearing a wedding ring. He looked up sharply to see that Reagan had one too. A wife? He’d never wanted to get married. He ... well, at the moment he couldn’t remember why, everything seemed so ... choppy. Vague. It was starting to really get distressing.
Grateful that Caius hadn't just stormed out in a panic, Reagan quickly dialed Anthony and brought the phone up to her ear. She turned away from Caius, one arm slipping under her breasts as she waited to hear her father in law's voice on the other end. Once he answered, sounding rightfully curious as to why Reagan was calling him, she tried to explain as much as she could without blathering on incoherently. They had tried to break the curse, and she felt as though she succeeded, but now Caius couldn't remember her. Rather than ask questions, Anthony stated in a rather calm tone that he would be there in ten minutes. He hung up without waiting on a reply.
Reagan exhaled softly and glanced at the screen of her phone before turning back to Caius. He was still sitting and looked pale himself. Distressed. Reagan walked over and sat down cautiously on the couch to give him some space. "Your father is on his way here," she explained as she placed her phone back on the coffee table. Anthony would want to check out her work space, to see the magic they'd used. He would need answers, and then he would fix this. "I know this is frightening," Reagan began. "But you and I were attempting to break a curse that has plagued our families for centuries. We've known each other our whole lives. We just got married." Reagan trailed off and rubbed her hands together to try and quell some of the frustration building inside of her. How could she explain their relationship to him? Where did she even start? Did she even have to, if Anthony was on his way to make it right? All she needed to do was keep Caius calm, otherwise things could take a turn for the worst, and neither of them could handle that right now.
Caius tried to listen to what she said to Anthony -- if she was even actually talking to him. How could he be sure? The conversation was over before Caius had the solid thought to ask to speak with him. If he was really on the way though, Caius supposed he would find out for sure. And if he didn’t know his father’s face? The thought was chilling. What if he’d fucked up part of his brain? What if he couldn’t remember anyone? He heard Reagan talking to him, more or less registered the meaning of the words she was saying, but it was getting hard to breathe. He was panicking and that wasn’t something he was used to doing. Now that he was aware of it, he couldn’t seem to stop rubbing his thumb against the inside of the wedding band on his finger. They’d just gotten married. Known each other their whole lives. What the actual fuck. “I need some air,” he managed to mumble, and stood up abruptly. The house was too stifling; he needed to be outside, in his element, fresh air in his lungs to ground him. Caius strode for the front door and pulled it open to step out onto the porch. He wasn’t going to run -- his feet were bare, and he had no idea where his wallet or keys were -- he just needed to breathe.
Reagan stood when he did, but she made no attempt to stop him. If she tried, he would get aggravated and think she was attempting to hold him there against his will. Instead, she walked to the end of the hall, watching Caius as he opened the front door to step outside. He didn't take off, which eased the tension in her shoulders just a tiny bit. With the distance between them now, and the cautious hope that he wasn't going to run off, Reagan turned to rub her hands over her face as her own panic began to bubble sharply to the surface. What had happened? What did they mess up? They had planned this so meticulously, down to the most miniscule detail. For a moment Reagan considered calling her mother, but no... she would wait to see what Anthony said first. Maybe he would right things and they would all be laughing about this in a day or two.
Still, her breathing was a bit shallow now as anxiety gripped her chest. It was not a feeling she was used to, and Reagan folded her arms under her breast in a defensive stance, as if she could protect herself from these darker emotions. She found herself staring at one of those framed photographs, the both of them a couple of years ago on the beach. Reagan had packed the photos away after their relationship ended, leaving only one photo of she and Caius attached on the fridge with a magnet, but once they returned from Anguilla, it made sense to display the rest of them again. She had no idea how long she stood there, staring into the distance, but the sound of a car door out front snapped her back to the present, and reality. She could hear Anthony's voice, but Reagan stayed where she was to wait, not wanting to rush outside and show them both just how scared she was feeling.
Despite how calm he had sounded on the phone with Reagan, Anthony was concerned. He had left the house rather abruptly after her phone call, and he had driven directly to Black Cove. Caius and Reagan had attempted to break the Baron curse. Had they succeeded? But now Caius was facing some memory loss. Hopefully that was the extent of the damage. A part of Anthony wanted to shake Caius for attempting something so dangerous without help. As powerful as his son was becoming, was he really equipped with the required strength necessary to pull off such a feat? Was this backlash? The cause of a mistake the two of them made? Anthony spotted Caius sitting on the porch steps as he pulled his car into the driveway behind the other two vehicles. Anthony climbed out of the car, pocketing his keys as he started up the pathway to where his son was sitting. Would he recognize Anthony? Miriam was going to lose her shit if Caius's memory loss expanded to his family. There was no flicker of confusion in Caius's eyes as Anthony approached, so he took that as a good sign. "Sounds like you've got yourself quite a problem," Anthony told him as he stopped in front of the porch steps. "How are you feeling right now?"
Caius was dimly grateful that Reagan didn’t follow him outside. The fresh air helped some, and he didn’t know how long he sat there, first with his head in his hands, then flipping through his phone. It was full of pictures of her. Texts. The call log was mostly ‘Reagan <3’ all the way down. She was all over his social media apps. How was this fucking possible? He felt like reality was crumbling down around him, because he didn’t remember any of it. Like he’d stepped into some other Caius’s life. His heart leaped when a car pulled into the driveway, and Caius’s limbs prickled with anticipation as he saw a man get out of it. He didn’t think he’d ever been so grateful to see his father’s face, because he knew it. That was definitely Anthony D’Onofrio, and he wasn’t acting like he was saving Caius from kidnapping or something.
He stood up as his father approached, phone gripped tight in his hand, fighting off the insanely strong urge to throw his arms around the man. They didn’t hug, even under these sorts of circumstances. Not that Caius had ever been in circumstances like these before. His eyes ticked upward as he tried to take stock enough to answer that question. “Confused,” he settled on, looking at his father again. “Very ... unsteady. I don’t recognize her at all. I don’t remember any of this.” He waved his phone a bit, distress crossing his expression again. “We were breaking a curse? We’re fucking married? I don’t ... I don’t remember any of it.”
Confused and unsteady made sense, and Anthony glanced behind Caius into the house. Caius remembered him, but not Reagan, or the curse. "Do you know your mother's name?" Anthony asked, gaze ticking back to Caius. "Your sister? Where you work?" It seemed important now, to try and pinpoint exactly what Caius remembered and what he didn't. If it was only Reagan missing from his memory, that had nothing to do with backlash and everything to do with magic. Fascinating magic, he had to admit, because it targeted a specific person, and the mind was such a complex thing. Not to mention that Reagan Kelly had been in their lives since infanthood. "I understand how frightening this probably is for you, but it's important for me to know what you do remember."
“Yes, of course,” Caius said with a bit of exasperation. “Miriam D’Onofrio, and my sister is Sera, Serafina, she’s seventeen. I’m Ops Director at the Pleasant Harbor and Pier, owned by D’Onofrio Management Company, in Point Pleasant, Maine. We both live in Overlook, I’ve lived here my whole life..” He seemed to have lost control of his volume, his voice gradually getting louder as he kept going and defensive anger bubbled up in his throat. “This is the United States of America, it’s 2017, Donald fucking Trump is president, we landed on the moon in 1969, I know my fucking life.” He pointed behind him at the house, his eyes a little wild with emotion. This was just ... it was too fucking much. “And this is not part of it.” Caius was already bracing for Anthony to tell him he was wrong, that it was, that she was, and he honestly felt like he was losing his shit.
Some part of Anthony felt smug. There was the knowledge that Caius had tried dark, complicated magic without Anthony’s assistance and he had fucked it up royally. Even if they had broken the curse, something went wrong. Anthony exhaled slowly, quite obviously relieved that his son remembered everything else about his life but for the woman waiting inside her home. The home Anthony had convinced her to buy in an effort to drive a bigger wedge between her and Caius. He knew he needed to check things out, because Veronica would be furious with him if he just took Caius and left Reagan alone to deal with the aftermath. “Hey, take a breath.” He reached out to grip Caius’s shoulder tightly. “We’ll get this taken care of. But I need to go inside so I can talk to Reagan and take a look around. If I can figure out what happened, I might be able to fix it. Do you think you can come inside with me and remain calm for a bit?”
Caius almost said no, because what he really wanted to do was run. He wanted his keys, he wanted his car, and he wanted to go home. And probably have several drinks. Caius briefly closed his eyes and tried to ground himself in the feel of his father’s strong hand on his shoulder. He hated to feel like he was ‘running to daddy’ for help for anything, but Anthony was knowledgeable and powerful, and if anybody could figure out what the fuck was going on and how to fix it, it was Caius’s father. “Yes,” he finally said, giving a little nod and looking at his dad again. He could stand there and try to listen and understand, as long as he got to leave at the end of it. “But I’m going home after this,” he murmured.
Anthony opted against telling Caius that he had been in the process of moving his things out to sell his house in Overlook. He would figure it out when he got home, if that's what he intended to do. "Fair enough," Anthony said, before patting Caius's shoulder and walking past him up the porch and into the house. Anthony was in tune to many things, and he could feel the lingering magic in the air. Reagan was standing in the middle of the living room. She reminded him a lot of Veronica. Dark and tenacious. Like her mother, Reagan was strong and independent as well, with an air of someone who did not take shit from everyone. Right now, she looked pale and small and scared, despite the stubborn lift of her chin at the sight of Anthony in her home. "Tell me what happened," Anthony said, casually slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
Reagan started at the beginning, talking quickly as she explained how she and Caius found a Baron descendant, the McCarthys’ son. Subtle surprise registered in Anthony's expression, but it smoothed out so quickly Reagan might not have noticed if she hadn't been looking him directly in the eye. She began to pace, going over the steps of the curse breaking spell she and Caius had found, how they knew they needed blood, a lot of it, both the Baron blood and their own. That explained the dark, crimson marks that were still visible on her chest, partly covered by the scooping neck of her dress. By the end, she had her hands on her hips and it felt difficult to breathe, although she pushed through it, not wanting to show any form of weakness in front of Anthony, or even Caius. "The curse broke," she said, sounding confident in that, at least. "I could feel it in an unexplainable way. But I knew the spell had worked. Only there was a burst of magic and we were both thrown out of the circle. Caius was knocked out for a few moments, and when he woke up, he couldn't remember..." She trailed off, because it was painful to say that Caius couldn't remember her. "I suppose it could have been backlash."
"Doubtful," Anthony said, now that he knew the details. "Otherwise you would have experienced something as well. Can I see where you two were casting?"
Reagan did not want Anthony in her work space, but she needed to cleanse the area anyway, so she nodded and turned to lead him to the open door in the back of the living room. The bloody circle was still intact, the candles surrounding it still lit, the wax dripping and pooling on the floor. Anthony walked inside and could feel the dark magic tinged with something else. He studied the circle. "You don't remember it, but this is pretty impressive magic," Anthony told Caius. "These symbols needed to be drawn meticulously, and you somehow managed it, even with blood." There was that, at least, even if Caius had no memory of it. "Caius, try to think. When you look at Reagan, is there any recognition at all? Any feeling? Blank spots? Blurry memories?"
Caius was there through the whole explanation, hanging back from his father a bit, arms crossed over himself, his gaze roaming from Reagan’s face to the rest of the room. He was spotting all the other pictures of the two of them scattered here and there, sometimes with other people that he recognized as friends. Some of the stuff looked familiar too, and he could remember where it had been in his house. It all gave Caius the weirdest, most creeped-out feeling, the skin on his back was crawling. He felt like he was on some kind of stage, like he’d been thrust into a performance and didn’t know his lines. Or the setting. Or that he was even a cast member.
He followed the two of them to the work room, lingering right next to the doorway. Caius could feel the magic in the air too, and he could feel that it was his magic. Partly, anyway. That was more proof than anything, strangely, and he felt vaguely sick. The compliment from Anthony didn’t even do anything for him, everything was churning so much inside. Caius had only been half-listening over the rushing white noise in his ears, and he blinked a bit at the questions. He looked at Reagan, his brows furrowed, almost sullen, but he did try to remember. “There’s just ... there’s nothing,” he said quietly, his gaze ticking back to his father. “Trying to think back over the past few months, some things seem ... choppy. But she’s not in there at all.” Caius’s next glance at Reagan was slightly apologetic. If all this was true, then she must be distressed too.
Reagan was distressed, despite how hard she was working to mask it. How could there be nothing in his memory of her? They had known each other since they were children. They had been in love since they were fourteen. So much of her life had revolved around Caius, and vice versa. How had all of that been erased? What was left? Fake memories? Blurred ones? Surely those memories of her were there somewhere, just buried. They had to figure out how to bring them back to the surface. She met Caius's gaze for a moment before watching Anthony crouch down near the circle drawn in blood. Sebastian's blood. Anthony ran his fingers over one of the symbols and then closed his eyes. He murmured a low incantation beneath his breath, one that Reagan couldn't hear very well. Her heart was jackhammer in her chest, her stomach was in knots, making her feel nauseous. Reagan was starting to feel cold, which was unusual, given her element. Anthony was silent for another moment that seemed to last an eternity, but when he opened his eyes, and straightened.
"It's not backlash," Anthony said. "I'm starting to think that the two of you might have actually broken the spell Baron placed on the families. However," he added, before Reagan looked too relieved or happy, "there's other magic lingering. It seems as though Abigail Baron might have had a back up plan in case this ever happened. Clearly it's not as intricate and far reaching as the initial curse, but there's dark magic here that wasn't cast by either of you. Caius's memory was wiped of you, Reagan, and only you. You've been left untouched." Anthony looked at Caius. "I would say that was on purpose, and that this is Baron's final fuck you to our families, and whoever it was who managed to undo what she had done, which would have been the two of you." There was the possibility that he was wrong, but that possibility was very, very slim. He could feel the magic in the air, could sense it through the blood on the floor. Abigail Baron had been a witch not to be messed with, and that much was evident even now, centuries later. Despite the effect it had on his own life, and his son's, Anthony couldn't help but be impressed with her.
“I don’t even know what curse you’re talking about,” Caius said tightly, frustration putting pressure on his chest again. Unless this was some crazy-elaborate trick they were playing on him ... but it couldn’t be. Caius could feel his own magical resonance in the room, that was impossible to fake. He’d broken something, apparently a familial curse, and that it had broken him back. He didn’t know how to wrap his head around that, all of this felt so abrupt to him. He’d just been ... working? Something ... and then he’d woken up naked and covered in bloody glyphs on this woman’s floor. That was all he remembered. But his father was confirming it was true, and Reagan was his wife, and he had this whole life he couldn’t even recall. The air was feeling too thick again, and the urge to run was strong. Caius rubbed one hand over his face and took a deep, unsteady breath before he looked at his father again. “Can you fix it?”
That was the same question on Reagan's lips, though there was no doubt in her mind that Anthony could. He was powerful enough, surely. Anthony would fix this, she would have Caius back and everything would get back to normal, finally. They had worked too hard to get to this point to have it snatched away from them. She would have explained the familial curse to Caius, but that could wait. If Anthony fixed this, they wouldn’t have to explain anything anyway.
Anthony's expression didn't change, though his brows raised a bit at the question. Of course he could fix it, but the question was, did he want to. Did Caius want him to fix this? Anthony could ask him right now, but he bit back on that question, aware of what it might sound like to Reagan. The girl had always been the one thing holding Caius back from reaching his full potential, and deep down Anthony knew that Caius knew that too. He had just chosen her time and again, before he could truly see what he was capable of achieving. If his son couldn't remember her now, couldn't remember their long, storied history, what did that mean? Maybe it would be better for both of them if Anthony let this one go. "It's strong magic," Anthony said finally, hoping that the twinge of regret in his tone was sincere enough. "I've never dealt with memory modification before. I wouldn't know the first place to start unraveling this, not to mention the potential of more memory loss, or worse, if any counter curse wasn't administered properly." Anthony looked at Caius. "You could lose everything."
"What?" Reagan's question was sharp and full of disbelief. "Bullshit. You've done far more complex magic. You've been teaching Caius blood magic. Don't tell me you can't fix this. You're lying." The panic was disguised as anger now, because it was too difficult to comprehend that Anthony D'Onofrio might not be able to help them. Because if he couldn't, no one else could. As much as she disliked him, Reagan knew his power stretched far beyond anyone else's in town. "There has to be a way around this. I won't accept that there's not."
Caius frowned at Reagan’s tone, some instinct to defend his father coming forward. Nobody got away with talking to him like that, why should this woman? Daughter-in-law or not. “Blood magic can’t fix everything,” he said, doing his best to sound reasonable. Caius looked between Reagan and his father. “Maybe there’s something somewhere to help us. Let’s all just ... calm down, take a breather, do some research ...” When all else failed, turn to the old books, right? This sounded like it had been a double-layered curse, with some backup failsafe in place to fuck over whoever tried to break it. And that had been him. Them, but he was the one who’d been re-cursed. He could understand intellectually that part of his life had been stolen, but he was still struggling to believe it. To feel it. It all made him feel like he was going truly insane, and Caius had to turn stiffly and walk out of the room for a moment. He wanted to go home so badly, have some space to think.
Reagan might have been a little more respectful if they were dealing with different, less distressing circumstances. But she refused to believe Anthony couldn't remedy this. Refused. She had to bite her tongue, literally, to keep from snapping at Caius. Blood magic couldn't fix everything? Sure it could. That's why he and Anthony were so enamored with it. It had fixed a centuries-old curse and it couldn't cure memory modifications? But he was already going through enough and it wasn't like she could start fighting with a man who didn't even remember her. Was he actually going to research how to fix this? Did he care? Reagan didn't know who Caius was without her in his life. Would he become more like Anthony? Would he be more susceptible to that manipulation? Questions raced through her head, all as unanswerable as the next and she turned her fiery gaze on Anthony once Caius had stepped out of the room. "If you can't fix this, I will," Reagan said defiantly. "And when I do, he's going to know you refused."
Anthony's smirk was faint and visible for only a fraction of a second before sympathy was evident in his expression and his tone. "I promise I'll try and do what I can," he told her. "I know this is hard for you. If there's a counter curse to remedy this, I'll find it." Anthony turned to leave and find Caius. Reagan knew they were both going to leave, which was difficult for her to process. She couldn't expect Caius to stay, given the circumstances, but she had the terrible, ominous feeling that if he left, she would lose him. Reagan went after them both, though she had no idea what to say.
"Do you want me to drive you home?" Anthony asked Caius. "Or do you feel all right enough to take your own car?" He would have to talk to Miriam as soon as he got home. She needed to know what was going on. He thought of Veronica, but had a feeling Reagan would take care of that.
“I’m fine, I can drive,” Caius said, agitation in his tone. He walked further into the living room, looking around for shoes that looked like they belonged to him ... and he didn’t see anything. He turned to Reagan, really struggling to not let the pressure of the moment get to him. It was easier said than done. “Where are my keys? Wallet?” If they were married and he lived there, she would know, and Caius just hoped she didn’t try to keep him there. He needed space and time to try and get his mind wrapped around this, and to start trying to fix it; right now he felt far too cornered for his comfort.
"Your keys are on the key hook by the front door," Reagan said, sounding listless now despite her best efforts not to. He was leaving and she had to stay behind and sleep in their bed alone. No, sleep would be impossible. There was no way her mind would quiet long enough for her to do anything remotely restful. Instead she would be grabbing the old books Caius had brought with him weeks ago and she would start researching a spell to fix all of this. Fuck Anthony. She would fix this. "Your wallet is probably on the dresser upstairs in our bedroom. If you don't want to go get it, I will."
If this huge, insane, awful thing was really happening -- and all signs were pointing to yes, disorienting as it was -- Caius knew it wasn’t easy on either of them. But he couldn’t stay the night there, in this stranger’s house, even if he crashed on the couch. That would be more heartbreaking than his absence, surely. In the morning, he would do what he could to get to the bottom of this, set it right, however that turned out ... but for the moment he craved isolation, room to breathe. He needed to get back to the life he knew, what he actually remembered, to ground himself. “I’ll get it, I need shoes too,” he murmured, giving her an unsure, sideways glance. Caius moved toward the stairs and started up them. He might not know right where it was, but he could find the bedroom.
Reagan gave Caius a mildly exasperated look, because of course his shoes would be by the front door. Then again, this Caius didn't know that Reagan liked her home meticulously clean and organized, which meant shoes by the front door when they got home. As soon as Caius disappeared upstairs, Reagan turned back to Anthony, her jaw set again and she motioned down the hallway to the front door that was still hanging wide open. "Get out of my house," she told him bitterly. As much as she hated the idea of it, Reagan knew she would have to call her mother. She had no one else who would understand this. She doubted Veronica could help her, but at least she would listen. Maybe sympathize or give Reagan advice. She needed that now.
Anthony gave her a faint smile and nodded. "Of course. You should call your mother, Reagan. I don't think it's wise for you to be alone tonight." He began to walk down the hall toward the door, intending on staying in the front yard by his car until Caius emerged. No, he didn't think Reagan would ever dream of doing anything to his son, but desperation was desperation, and he knew how he had felt... once. That intensely strong urge to be with someone could make anyone do something crazy. But one thing was certain, the curse hadn't pushed Caius and Reagan together in the way Anthony had thought. What the two felt had to be real, because Reagan still felt it. It hadn't been magic. What a shame.
She might have slammed the door after him, but Reagan left it open so Caius wouldn't think she was trying to lock him in or anything. She watched Anthony walk to his car, and then she turned back to wait by the bottom of the stairs for Caius. Her mind was racing now, trying to work out what she needed to do next to fix all of this. Everything was jumbled and agonizing, and she pressed her nails into her forearms to try and redirect the pain to something more physical that she could handle.
Caius located the master bedroom without any trouble. But was that possible because he knew deep down somewhere exactly where it was? Or was the house just designed in a logical way? It felt impossible to tell. He found his wallet on the dresser and tucked it into his back pocket, taking a moment to look around. It was a lovely bedroom. Both sides of the bed were rumpled like they’d been slept in. He found his watch as well, and a peek into the closet told him that he had clothes there. It was so bizarre, seeing his things in this place he couldn’t remember ever being before. Like this was some strange dream. There were a few more pictures around too. He knew he shouldn’t waste time staring at them, but he couldn’t help but examine how happy he looked in them.
It started to make him feel dizzy again. He wondered if he should grab some clothes to take with him -- it was impossible to know what was still in his closet at home. Caius didn’t want to spend the time though, so he just turned and headed back down the stairs. Reagan was standing there, and Caius felt a jumble of things in his chest. Low key panic seemed to be the loudest. He walked past her toward the front door, intent on getting his shoes on and getting the fuck out of there. Just until he could figure this out.
She wanted to reach out and touch him when he walked by her, but she knew he wouldn't appreciate it. It was Caius, but it wasn't. If the roles had been reversed, Reagan certainly wouldn't have wanted a 'stranger' touching her. But Reagan couldn't help but think if she just... touched him, it would somehow trigger all of the memories this goddamn magic had seemingly buried. She refused to believe that they had been erased. Reagan was still there, hiding somewhere deep in his mind. She watched him get his shoes and found she had no idea what to say. Nothing was going to make him decide to stay, nor would anything make him feel less confused or scared. She was scared. "I'll give you a couple of days," Reagan murmured before clearing her throat. "But we have to figure this out."
Caius could almost feel that want in the air as he walked by, Reagan’s desire to touch him. While he usually didn’t mind being touched by beautiful women, this was a unique situation, and he was glad that she didn’t do it. Caius got his shoes on and plucked his car key off of the hook -- just where she said it would be -- then paused, looking out the doorway without really seeing anything. He made himself look over his shoulder at her, and while he really wanted to recognize her, he didn’t. There was just nothing there. As a human with empathy, buried as it might’ve been most of the time, Caius felt for her. Whatever the fuck was happening, it wasn’t good on either end. “I’ll be in touch,” he said back, going for more of a gentle tone. “We will. ... I’m sorry, Reagan.” He looked at her for another beat, then turned to slip out the door and pull it shut behind him.
Reagan inhaled sharply when the door shut, and just like that, the silence around her was deafening. There was the subtle urge to go to the window and watch him leave, but Reagan wasn't sure she could handle that. Reagan stood, frozen to the spot, for several moments until she forced herself to move. The panic was resurfacing, despite her inner determination that she would fix this, and fix it soon. Right now, everything hurt in unimaginable ways and she needed help. Advice. Maybe just someone to sympathize. Reagan grabbed her phone from the coffee table again and dialed her mother before walking into the kitchen. She had a lot of work ahead of her, but right now, she needed a drink. A lot of them.