Page 13 of Family Matters

“Look, mother, stop wasting your time; I’m not going back there.” Liam started without any introduction as he stepped into the library, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I’m not going to change my mind. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some books from the back.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Margaret said in a cold, almost contemptuous voice.“You have no one, except me, your father, and two siblings.”

“Stepfather and half-siblings.” Liam’s reply came in a flat voice. “And you were never there for me. Here, on the other hand, I’m happy, and I have a lot of friends and eight loving siblings.” He looked at the librarian, a smile brightening his face and reaching his eyes. “Plus, the best dads someone could wish for.”

“Dads? Plural?” Margaret stared at her son in disbelief, letting out a loud gasp when he confirmed with a nod. Although still shocked, the woman bounced back to her nasty self. “That means no woman, no matter how pathetic and insignificant she was, couldn’t be convinced to marry you.” She let out a huff of contempt. “And can you please tell me where the kids are coming from? You don't look like someone who can afford adoption fees and the costs of raising eight children.”

“I didn't matter to you back then, I was nothing more than a name on your list of guys to sleep with.” Brian shook his head, disappointment and sadness mixing in his voice. “Why would you care to know my business now?”

“Because that boy lives with you and I would like to know everything about the environment in your house.” Margaret replied, her attitude arrogant and demanding.

“Liam is a grownup, in case you didn’t notice.” Brian clenched his hands into fist under the desk, suppressing a growl of frustration. “He's not a boy anymore.”

Margaret waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “He's almost nineteen, so still a boy.”

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose “I'm losing my patience.” He mumbled in Sicilian, then continued in English. “Look, our son is legally an adult. He's got brothers and sisters and two dads who love him. We live in a nice house, and everyone has what they need.”

Margaret checked her watch. “I have some important business to take care of, but I’ll come again one of these days. Talking to you wasn’t a pleasure, but I’ll do whatever it takes to convince that boy to come back where he belongs.”

“Don’t waste your time and your breath, mother. I’m staying with papa and dad.” Liam came from the back, his arms full of books. “I can't believe Elyan, sex is all he thinks about; I saw his reading list here, at the library. Like Gabriele often says, his mind sleeps in the gutter.” He grinned and put the books on a desk, plopped down on the chair behind it, then turned to Luca. “Here, counselor, these are the books on your list.”

“All of you boys have your minds in the gutter.” Brian let out a wholehearted laugh. “Which, at your age, is totally understandable.”

“I don't, I swear. I don't think about sex at all.” Liam sighed softly. “With everything Don Calogero gives me to study,all the other new things I have to learn, and between training sessions with Luca, I barely have time to breathe. I love to listen to them, though.”

“I know how that is.” Brian nodded, his voice filled with a mix of affection and understanding.“No time for anything except reading and training. I often fell asleep with my head on a book or another.”

“Speaking of books, I think you should see this, librarian.” Luca pointed to the stack of books on Liam’s desk.

Brian left his seat, went there and examined the titles, a radiant smile making his face glow with fatherly pride. His son was studying different combat styles, most likely intending to create his unique combination of moves, one meant to make him invincible, no matter the opponent. The future looks promising, the librarian said to himself as he went back behind the counter, The Council is in good hands.

CHAPTER 10

Brian lifted the dreamcatcher and carefully examined it from all angles in the light coming through the garage’s window. After a few seconds, he put it on the small desk, a smile of satisfaction taking over his face. I hope it will bring a tranquil sleep to whoever of the babies would have it hanging above their crib, the man thought.

Making dreamcatchers was Brian’s newest hobby, one the man enjoyed so much. That he converted a part of the garage into a workshop of sorts. The idea of that activity came to him like a way of using the feathers Reardon kept giving him, sometimes directly, but most often letting them fall on the floor, at library or at home.

Brian picked a long, pitch-black feather, and looked at it in the light. It’s splendid, he thought, noticing the shades of blue shining through it. A porch would be the ideal place to put the dreamcatcher, once it’s finished; the breeze would move the feather, and the color effect would be stunning, the librarian continued in his internal monologue.

Carefully putting the feather back on the desk, Brian let out a heavy sigh. The last time he saw Reardon was eight months earlier, when his brother-in-law and best friend told him the superior entities sent him into exile again, this time for helpingMartino by keeping his unborn baby safe when the men Donna Fabrizia gave him to did all those horrible things to him.

Back when Reardon brought him the news, Brian was revolted by the decision of the forces governing the universe. The Otherworld, he remarked bitterly, was no better than the mortal realm, in spite of what its inhabitants claimed. On the contrary, no good deed was left unpunished, and bad guys, supernatural creatures or mortals, always won.

After finishing his tirade, Brian apologized to Reardon, because the responsibility for the situation also belonged to him, at least partially. Was it not for the family relationship between the two of them, and for Martino being his friend, his best friend and brother-in-law wouldn’t have been sentenced to spend time away from his family, the librarian said, guilt washing over him.

Things weren’t at all that way, Reardon patiently explained once Brian finished his tirade; it was about keeping the good and evil deeds in balance by not favoring any of the sides. It was true that his sentence came as a result of helping the good guys, but it would have been the same had he collaborated with the evil side.

Keeping the balance from tipping in favor of one side or another was the first duty of each and every supernatural creature, regardless of the species. Reardon failed to perform it, but he would have done it again, no regrets, had it become necessary. When he revealed his true, demonic nature to Edwin, the Irish gangster also mentioned the possibility of them spending quite some time separated, and, although he wasn’tthrilled at the prospect, his soulmate eventually came to terms with it.

While Brian was lost in his thoughts, his hands moved almost with a mind of their own, creating another beautiful dreamcatcher. That’s enough for today, he said to himself, after examining it, like he did with the others. The librarian started to pull the drawers of the desk out, putting away the strings, beads, feathers, and everything else he used in making the decorative objects.

Ten minutes later, Brian sat on one of the large couches in the living-room, and looked out the window in the yard, at Bart and the children playing and goofing around. He is not only the most handsome man on the planet, but also the best, most loving father, the librarian thought, while taking in the contour of his husband’s body.

A few nights earlier, the two of them had another passionate lovemaking session, and this time, Bart worshiped each and every tattooed part on Brian’s body. He kissed, licked, and scraped his teeth, the skin covered in ink, making the librarian writhe, the pleasure hitting him in waves, until he couldn’t hold back and let his orgasm explode in a white, blinding light.

Bart adored each and every tattoo decorating Brian’s skin; in their most intimate moments, the man called his husband his personal art collection. Every time they were spoken by his beloved, the words were sweet music to the librarian’s ears, tugging at the chords of his soul and melting his heart.

Brian’s thoughts strayed again, as he started to wonder what Reardon would think about his last tattoo on his forearm. It was a late birthday present to himself, finished about two months earlier, after his brother-in-law went into exile, a black feather, a sign of affection and respect for the bond he and his brother’s husband shared.

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