Who: Anthony and Caius When: Saturday, Nov 11, early evening Where: the D’Onofrio house Status: Complete
Caius had had a stressful twenty-four hours. The storm the night before had been bad, and a few of the restaurants and other buildings on the marina had had some flooding issues. He’d been up since the early morning, trying to assess the damage and preparing to make insurance claims, all while the rain still came down. One building’s lower level in particular was a mess, and it was going to be closed for a while, which meant loss of revenue going into the marina’s slowest time of year. Great.
He’d been keeping in touch with his father throughout the day with texts, just to keep him updated, and once Caius could finally get away, he felt exhausted but wired at the same time. It was kind of good to sink his teeth into some kind of work that actually made him feel accomplished. It was nicely distracting too ... but his problem was never very far from his mind. How could it be? He’d told Anthony that he would come by the house once he’d cleaned himself up, so he could give an in-person assessment and share some pictures of the damage. Caius planned to talk about more than that with him. It was always better to ask his father for favors in person, he’d found out long ago.
Caius arrived showered and in fresh clothes, and let himself into the house. He’d texted Anthony to let him know he was on the way, and Caius automatically headed toward his father’s study to find him.
Anthony had been giving Caius space. It was the best route to take in the midst of all of this turmoil, and he knew that when Caius was ready, his son would come to him. That didn't mean Anthony wasn't working. His calendar remained full, between work and his own magic. He had a couple of visits with Veronica to talk about the situation their children found themselves in, but neither meeting had ended terribly well. Anthony was of the mind that this separation would be beneficial for Caius and Reagan. Veronica did not. And so they found themselves at an impasse, which Anthony knew could be a dangerous thing if Veronica was involved.
With the weather this week, both Anthony and Caius had been busy, although his son had been more hands on with the issues on-site. Anthony did not like to get his hands dirty unless blood was involved. That wasn't all that had distracted Caius this week, but Anthony could pretend not to know what his son did in his spare time unless Caius decided to tell him.
He was in his study working when Caius texted him and he had spared a quick glance at the message before returning to his computer. He was still at his desk when Caius knocked and let himself in. Anthony saved his work and stood to pour himself, and Caius, a drink. "How bad is it?" he asked, pouring the scotch into two glasses.
Caius didn’t mind the lack of greeting as he closed the study door behind him again. He was there on business, after all. Some of it business-business, some of it personal. “It’s pretty bad,” he said. Caius filled his father in on the details since they’d last talked while he went and took a seat on his side of his father’s desk. The damage done to their properties wasn’t going to be utterly disastrous, but it was still going to be expensive. He murmured a thanks when Anthony handed him a glass, and took a sip. “I’ll start getting estimates as soon as it stops fucking raining,” he concluded.
Anthony wasn't pleased to hear that, but it wasn't the first time the weather had fucked with their properties. He sat back down in his chair and took a drink of his scotch before setting the glass on his desk. Estimates and insurance claims were a pain in the ass, but that was why he had Caius. His son was competent and would get the work done, and get it done right, otherwise Anthony would just do it himself. "I would recommend speaking with Lana as soon as you receive the estimates. She's a friend of the family so she'll make sure our claims are pushed through. If you receive any push back, let me know." Anthony settled back against his chair, studying Caius. "There's likely to be long hours attached with this, more so when the rain lets up. Are you going to be able to handle this without everything else getting in the way?"
Caius nodded to the instructions -- which weren’t anything he didn’t already know to do -- and sipped on his drink, studying his father back. He might not be bearing good news exactly on this visit, but he was at least keeping up with his own duties, which always greased the wheels. One of Caius’s dark brows raised at Anthony’s last question, and a flash of irritation ran through him. ‘Everything else’? Like the violation of his mind and the tearing away of maybe eighty percent of his memories was just some minor inconvenience? Caius didn’t let it show, though, casually crossing his legs and nursing his drink. “I remember how to work,” he answered pointedly, meeting his father’s gaze. “It won’t be a problem.” Long hours, he could do. It would be distracting, at least. “Speaking of everything else, though ... how are your relations with James McCarthy lately? Good?”
The question wasn't surprising, but Anthony still waited a beat to answer, leaning forward to pick up his glass again. He had an idea of where this conversation was headed, and it fit in quite nicely with what Anthony had already planned for his son. He doubted Caius would resist the next stage of what Anthony wanted to teach him, but he was sure having some extra incentive would move things along more quickly. "At the moment, yes. I haven't had the time yet to speak with him about what happened. I'm sure he's dealing with his own familial issues, given what you and Reagan did with his son's blood. His wife's family is responsible for cursing ours so... there's been a bit of a cooling down period for me. Why do you ask?"
Caius technically knew what had happened with the McCarthy boy’s blood. From his ritual notes and what Reagan had said, it had been painless and voluntary, and he didn’t think the family had much to be upset about. Except that they’d been denying their children full access to their nature, but he and Reagan could hardly be blamed for that. He did hope it didn’t make this part of things overly difficult, though. “I need the Baron family grimoire,” he said simply. Caius was aware of what a huge ask that was, but if anybody could get it done, it was Anthony. “His wife has to have it somewhere. Or someone in her family does. That’s the only path I can find to try and break this second half of the curse. I’ve scoured every other resource I have and came up empty handed. They owe us that. To put a real end to it, finally.”
The Baron grimoire. Anthony leaned back and considered it. It was certainly a lot to ask, not only of Anthony, but of the McCarthy family. Or rather, Mrs. McCarthy's family. The Coulters. After finding out that it was James's wife who carried the Baron blood, he had done his research on the woman and her family. The blood ran on her mother's side, and he had pulled the genealogy reports as far back as was available to him. There wasn't much there, which told him that the Coulter family, and those who came before them, took careful measures to hide. And it was a seventeen year old boy who had fucked it all up for them. "You're assuming," Anthony began, "that the grimoire wasn't destroyed. That they didn't burn it as soon as they went into hiding to ensure it didn't end up in the wrong hands. However, say that they do have it hidden away somewhere and that it is accessible. Witches do not share their grimoires with other witches. Brianna may not understand that, but you can bet your ass that James does."
Caius had started to shake his head already when Anthony mentioned the grimoire being destroyed. He was willing to bet one of his limbs that Abigail Baron had made sure it couldn’t be destroyed, even by her own family. There was no way she would let her legacy go up in flames like that. It seemed that she’d had an ego. “From what Reagan told me, it almost killed us to dig up her grave, there were so many protections in place,” he said. “I can’t imagine she would let her grimoire be destroyed or discarded. No, they have it somewhere. And I don’t give a fuck about the rules.” Caius sat forward a bit, heat coming into his eyes and his words. “How many members of our family did that bitch murder? And just as many from Veronica’s clan. And now I’ve been mind-raped by this centuries-old bullshit grudge and can only remember bits and pieces of my own goddamn life? Fuck what they understand, fuck what they want. They’re going to help fix this. Between you and Veronica, you can make it happen.”
Anthony let Caius have his say, watching his son with a guarded expression as he drank more of his scotch. If Miriam were in the room, she would have probably commented on how like his father Caius suddenly looked, and sounded. Fuck the rules, indeed. Now it was just a matter of taking that fire and directing it towards something beneficial to them both. "Neither Veronica, nor myself, can make anything happen," Anthony told him simply. "We've both discussed the situation and it seems clear that this is a problem only you and Reagan can fix. I can ask James for the grimoire, of course. I can ask his wife as well, and her family. But I can almost guarantee you that the answer will be no. They have no stake in this, Caius. Do you think any of them would be willing to give up centuries old family spells and secrets so that you can remember your girlfriend?"
The tiny muscles under Caius’s eyes hardened. It wasn’t clear that it was a problem only he and Reagan could fix. In spite of what he’d accomplished, he knew his father was capable of so much more, and Caius wouldn’t be surprised if Veronica was too. Even on a mundane level, they made things happen in town all the fucking time. And they just weren’t going to help their children? He felt himself bristle a bit at the dismissive way Anthony talked about Reagan, and there was a deep-seated pull to defend her. “She’s my wife,” he corrected sharply. “It’s far bigger than that and you know it. Do you have any idea what I’ve lost?” Caius narrowed his eyes a bit at his father. “All my formative experiences. I can’t remember most of high school. I can’t recall getting drunk for the first time, losing my virginity, prom, both graduations, countless holidays and vacations, conversations and events that shaped me, all gone. And with them, my sense of stability, of knowing who I am. I’m exhausted, I question everything, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, I’m a shell of a person now, unanchored. It was all taken from me. I want it back. I can compromise ... supervised access to it. Let me find what I need, I don’t want the rest of her tainted magic. I just want this to end. Or I will create stakes for them.”
"Your wife. You're correct, my apologies. I just assumed you had forgotten, or ceased to care, what that meant," Anthony said simply. He drank the rest of his scotch and set the glass down on his desk sharply before he folded his hands in front of him, leaning forward a bit toward his son. His eyes had darkened now, because he had Caius in the proper temperament that was needed for this conversation. A man who wanted control, and a man who was willing to manipulate the circumstances to retrieve it. "I'll help you," Anthony told him. "And I'll help you by teaching you how to help yourself. Brianna McCarthy, nor her family, will hand over that grimoire willingly to you. Supervised access is still providing access to something every bloodline considers sacred. So you have a couple options, Caius. One, you can forcibly take the grimoire, either by creating stakes, as you have said, or by spilling blood. Of course this could potentially lead to igniting a new war between our families that could last even longer than the first. And it could lead to you losing a hell of a lot more than your memories. Or two, you can request the grimoire in such a way that they'll hand it over willingly, happily even, without another thought. This might require a bit of time for me to teach you what you need to know, but as you're a fairly quick learner, it shouldn't delay you too long in finding a solution to this problem."
Caius wanted to ask what Anthony meant by that, but the rest of what he said was more interesting. He wasn’t here to take digs back and forth at one another -- he highly doubted that his father was a big believer in the sanctity of marriage, and just because his emotional connection to Reagan was temporarily lost didn’t mean he’d forgotten anything. Caius studied him closely, a wariness seeping into his expression, because that sounded too good to be true. He tried to suss out what Anthony might be talking about. “A request with ... some sort of persuasive magic?” he asked after a moment. Caius knew those sorts of things were possible in theory, but he hadn’t known that Anthony had mastered any of it. Maybe he should’ve known, but he hadn’t. Convincing the McCarthy’s to give him what he wanted without resorting to threats or kidnapping or outright violence was definitely a better option, though, if he could pull it off.
There was wariness there, but Anthony was sure there was also curiosity. It had never been hard to use magic as bait in order to hook Caius. If there was one thing Caius loved as much as, if not more than Reagan, it was power. And Anthony had plenty of that to give to his son, if he wanted it. "Persuasive magic is one way to look at it, yes. You could influence the actions and choices of those around you. And if you feel ambitious enough, change their memory. Not erase the memories, like Baron managed to do... but simply... manipulate them in a way to benefit you." It was the kind of blood magic Anthony had delved into as a young man, and he had never turned back. He was very particular with how he used his abilities and to whom he used them on, but there was a reason Anthony was where he was in life, and he had no intention of relinquishing his standing in this town to anyone.
Mind control. To some degree, anyway. Caius felt a fresh surge of anger that he’d known Anthony knew more about mind magic than he’d ever said. He still suspected that his father could fix his memory issues and just wasn’t doing it, either to teach him a lesson or ... some other unfathomable reason that Caius couldn’t name. What he was offering though was too tempting to turn down. It was the kind of skill that could be a game changer on all levels. Used with discretion, naturally, but Caius had inherited his father’s desire to be the most powerful man in almost every room. “And you’re ready to pass that on to me? But you won’t use it on McCarthy yourself?” he asked after a moment’s thought. Caius was hungry to learn anything he could, but he was also wary of walking into some sort of a setup. Everything was so off-balance, he didn’t know who he trusted anymore.
Anthony's lips twitched. "I'm ready to pass it onto you, Caius, if you're ready to take it. But it requires a lot of skill, and a lot of sacrifice on your part to master it. It also has its limits. Skilled witches can sense when their minds are being tampered with and James McCarthy is a skilled witch. However, his wife, and her family, are not. At least not yet. Your curse breaking triggered their magic, but it will take some time for Brianna to become an adequate user. The same can probably be said for her mother and brother, should they choose to learn at all. But I can guarantee you that James will want to teach his wife how to control and use her ability." Anthony shrugged one shoulder softly. "I could ask Brianna myself and nudge her in the right direction to find the grimoire and hand it over, but... this sounds like a prime opportunity for you to grow as a witch, Caius. I know you don't remember it, but you were dead set on breaking the Baron curse on your own. This is just another step towards that."
It was a lesson, of course. Caius gave a little sigh and sat back in his chair, fingers drumming on the wooden arm as he stared at one of his father’s bookshelves and thought about it. Anthony had never gone easy on him when it came to learning magic, and this was just another ‘toss you in the water to teach you to swim’ sort of scenarios. The stakes were so high ... he really did feel like he was falling apart ... but it was clear that Anthony was not going to fix this one for him, even if he could. Caius couldn’t help but suspect at least a little that it was a punishment for trying to break the Baron curse on his own. He didn’t remember it, but all evidence said that he hadn’t come begging. He didn’t want to think that way about his father though. The kind of magic he was offering did sound like it could come in handy -- besides the obvious, perhaps with building in more protections in his mind so nothing like this ever happened again. “All right,” he said finally, looking at Anthony again. “When can we start?”
Anthony was well aware that this might seem like punishment, that he was bitter over the fact that Caius and Reagan had so stubbornly shut him out as they tried to break Baron's curse. In a way, it probably was punishment, but Anthony had come to the conclusion that if Caius felt powerful and independent enough to attempt curse breaking without any assistance, then he alone could clean up the mess he had created for himself. It was a good lesson for his son to learn. That didn't mean Anthony wouldn’t help him in other ways, like this one. "We can start tomorrow evening," Anthony said. "That will give me a bit of time to gather up what we need. I'm sure you understand the risks and sacrifices involved in this kind of magic. Make sure you're prepared."
Whatever the reasons and motivations, Caius intended to throw himself into learning this new avenue of magic, and mastering it. He would apply it as best he could to their situation, and if he still couldn’t fix it ... well, they would go from there. He obviously didn’t know how Reagan would react to the idea of him learning to manipulate minds, but if it solved their problem for them, she would just have to deal with it. He could always put it aside for the future, but ... he probably wouldn’t. Power was power. Caius nodded vaguely to the warning, though he was taking it seriously. “Any specific sacrifices I need to be ready for?” he asked, arching a dark brow at his father. He’d done plenty of risky magic that required a lot of him, but forewarned was forearmed.
Anthony's grin was quick, but lacked any real warmth. "There will be no blood sacrifices but for your own. It's a painful process, one that not many witches can withstand, or bounce back from if they fail to complete the spell. But if I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't have brought it up. You already know that dark magic takes equal to what it gives you to maintain balance." This was something Caius wanted, so Anthony doubted his son would hem and haw over the potential consequences. "And obviously, no one can predict what that might be."
Painful wasn’t a deterrent -- Caius had performed plenty of painful rituals. Those he could remember most of, because apparently his and Reagan’s magic didn’t often overlap. He wasn’t sure how big of a price he would have to pay to give something ‘equal,’ because this sounded like a big deal. The ability to manipulate minds wasn’t a paltry power. Was he prepared to maybe lose even more of his mind, if it meant getting the majority of it back? Everything was sacrifice. A bit of frustration flared again that Anthony wouldn’t just do this for him, but it was short-lived. It was just another way to grow magically, so he might as well take it now. “Tomorrow night, then,” he said, lifting his glass to his father briefly before he drained the last of it and stood to take it back to the mini bar. “Just tell me when to show up, and I’ll be ready.”
Anthony supposed he was stubborn enough to not help his son when he was asked as punishment for all the times Caius wouldn't ask. In any case, this would simply be another stepping stone for Caius to tap into his full potential. There were too many potential benefits for Caius to say no. "I'll send you a text tomorrow," Anthony said. He would not have Caius perform the magic inside this house. Not with the possibility that Miriam or Sera would be home and could hear. "We'll do it at your home," he instructed. "Without the potential to be interrupted. Your mother wouldn't be pleased if she knew what you were doing."
Of course, privacy was important, especially if it was going to be painful. Maybe doing a ritual in his Overlook house would make him feel more attached to it, maybe not. Everything still felt off and crooked, and he was starting to wonder if anything would ever be righted and balanced. But he couldn’t fall into despair. There was a direction to go now, at least, and if it ended with him ultimately being the one to really clean up what had plagued generations of his family, he would make the sacrifices necessary. “Pleasing Mother isn’t high on my list of priorities right now,” he muttered. “But of course. I’ll get my ritual space ready.” He headed for the study door, ready to be done and curled up with another bottle. “Talk to you then.”
When was pleasing anyone on Caius's list of priorities? Beyond Reagan, of course, but Anthony wasn't even sure she was on that particular list anymore. It was how it always should have been, if you asked him. But he could only work with the present, and the opportunities handed to him, and this was an opportunity. Both for Caius and Anthony himself. "Goodnight," Anthony said, watching his son leave. He was well aware that Caius would probably go home and drink himself to sleep again, but it didn't concern Anthony. After all, there were worse ways to cope.