The midafternoon into evening passed at a laborious pace, as if even the cosmos wished for the Lowell Hunters to become accustomed to Celezar's presence. Said hunters, sans Musa and Verne, were expectedly disgruntled. The hybrid himself kept to his word and hovered around the bar, watching TV, for the remainder of the daylight hours.

During those hours, Jean kept himself busy by reading the reports. He quietly prayed for a simpler hunt, one he didn't have to attend, to come before nightfall. Depending on the circumstance, if a hunt gave the impression that it was simple and easy, not requiring much cleanup and or for Ulrich to be present, he would give the option for his men to go without him. This usually meant he wasn't interested in going.

This time, however, it was for the specific reason to let some of his men blow off steam.

That, and he wanted to train with Celezar again.

The twilight hour had just passed, and his hopes were dwindling, when the blaring sound of the red phone's ringing made it to his office. Hoping for an easy hunt, he began to stand but heard someone else answer it. Approaching the door, he looked out into the antechamber. Celezar had answered.

"The Cellar Outpost." Listening, Celezar turned to face Jean. "Uh huh. Mercer Island? Your wife?" He made a face, listening. "Plant-monsters. Got it. We'll be there." He turned to hang up. At the side of the bar across from him stood Gulliver.

"What was it?" the older man asked.

"Mercer Island, again," Celezar explained as the rest of the men emerged. "A man called, said his wife went into this old graveyard on the island that had been closed off for decades. They're tourists or something. She's gone missing and the last he saw of her were these bulbous plant monsters taking her away."

Raphael frowned. "How did he obtain our number if he's a tourist?"

Celezar shrugged.

Jean entered the room. "Sounds like an easy enough hunt...I'll pass."

"Alright." Artie, who seemed almost expectant of this, turned to walk to the armory. "Friedrich, Sarkis, Hugh, Lucas, and Robin...Let's go."

Watching them go, Jean moved to sit at the farthest end of the bar parallel to Celezar. The rest of the men returned to what they were doing before the phone rang. Celezar kept his back to them as he finished off a drink at the bar. 

The helicopter wasn't even called this time. Artie's group went to travel to the helipad hangar on horseback. Yes, Jean made the right choice not to go...

Once it was just him and Celezar in the antechamber, he sighed. "Did you have something to tell me?"

Licking the inside of the stein with a long, black tongue, Celezar nodded.

"And I rested, as you wanted me to. Let's train afterwards. I still have six Elevates to summon before I'm ready to take on the Entity."

Celezar hummed, "Yes, and pray it doesn't get to us, first."

Watching, Jean made a face. "We haven't seen it in a while."

"I am certain Domien had something to do with the attack on Etheraven. That means the Entity was near as well."

Jean turned around so he was resting back against the bar counter. "Tell me again why we don't say its name?"

Lowering the stein to the counter, Celezar exhaled. "'Cause if we say its name, it gets that much closer."

Leaning sideways to get a look at his mate's face, Jean blinked. "Are you serious."

"Yep."

"It can't be that powerful."

"It is that powerful."

With a weary exhale, he let the topic go, shaking his head while looking towards the windows.

Celezar slipped off the bar stool and reached over to place the stein into the sink. He then slowly came closer to Jean, his head lowered.

Once he was closer, Jean looked at him. He sensed a sudden and great sadness from his mate. "What's wrong?"

Celezar lowered onto the stool directly beside him. He kept his head low. "I'm sorry, Jean. I'm...I've been keeping a lot from you. Even an inhuman can be unsure of themselves, as you know..."

Jean felt the need to brace himself, slanting his good eye.

"I apologize for not telling you sooner, love..." Celezar raised his head, revealing sadness in his large eyes. "You are trying to find your inhuman family. For the majority, I do not know where they are. But several of them are far, far closer than you can imagine."

Frowning, Jean slightly cocked his head to the side but remained silent.

Celezar deeply inhale, then looked him in the eye. "They are the Lowell servants."

Jean froze, the words entering his mind and embedding themselves there. As if he only steadily understood what was said, his eyes began to widen after a moment. "Wh...what?"

Instead of repeating himself, Celezar's eyes became sad. He only nodded, dropping his gaze.

There was only a moment's delay before Jean spun around and all but pounced from the stool to the exit. His destination was the servant's quarters, a place he had never actually been to, before. But he did know where it was.

He left the Cellar and began to walk to the Cellar's stables.

That couldn't be true.

It couldn't be.

Going to the stables, of course, meant seeing the stablehand. Jean went still once more when he saw him, eyes growing wide.

That can't be true.

But Celezar wouldn't lie to him. He knew that. There was such sadness in the hybrid's eyes...

Emotionally fortifying himself, Jean managed a short order to the stablehand for his horse. The moment the stallion was given to him, he climbed up with all intents to ride to the manor as quickly as possible.

How can it be?

When he arrived, he saw the manor's stablehand. His lips pursed tightly when he saw him, and he only climbed down from Spider's back before racing away. He wasn't entirely running, but he was damn near close to it.

He bypassed the entrance to the manor entirely. At the right of the building was an inconspicuous cellar entrance. It was hidden, and it should have been hard to find in the dark, but it was unusually easy for him to find. It was furthermore the only entrance he knew of into the servant's quarters. He was more than certain there were more easily accessible ones.

He pulled the heavy doors open and was greeted by the sight of a long staircase leading into darkness. With only a moment's hesitation—while not even noticing his eyes quickly adapted to the darkness—he made his descent. Before completely lowering, he closed the doors behind him.

A distantly familiar smell permeated the cool air. He couldn't place it in his memory banks, but he did store it away for later consideration. The staircase was bare of any telltale signs of life, of any activity from anything. It was entirely clean down to every corner and crevasse. After a short while, he saw a light down the staircase. It was warm, as if from a fireplace.

Stepping down the last stair, he saw lanterns hanging in what looked like a guard room. There was a single table and two seats, but nothing else. A long passageway straight ahead seemed to lead to more warm lights.

This wasn't at all what he expected.

Yet, he didn't know what he had expected, in truth.

Steeling himself, he moved forward. At the right of the hall were rooms that were occupied by several of the servants. They were perfectly still, watching him with their almost glowing golden-yellow eyes. From the look of things they were merely occupying the spaces. He didn't see anything of great significance.

Stopping, he asked, "Is there someone I can speak to? It's important."

Almost immediately, someone moved to approach him. It was a young-looking servant who wasn't wearing the familiar uniforms he was so accustomed to. Instead, they wore a modest brown tunic-dress and simple bootie shoes.

His brows tightened. They were all wearing variations of the same outfit. Some with pants, some with dresses, some wearing tunics. All wore simple brown or black boots or booties.

At least, for the love of Creation, they didn't look starved, nor were they filthy. That was the only thing that could ease his mind at the moment.

The servant led the way not down the hall but into one of the rooms. It gave way to a large space that seemed to be the dining room. Some of the servants were eating, and thank goodness it was good-looking food. He saw vegetables and bread, soups and drinks. Regardless, Jean's heart began to sink further and further. They were eating on the floor, which, while it looked clean, just turned him the wrong way.

Everything about this was all...wrong to his consciousness. It was off. It wasn't right.

And he wouldn't have cared, once upon a time. But he couldn't say that definitively; he didn't even know this much then.

Swallowing, he tore his eyes from the eating servants, some of whom had stared at him, and followed his guide into a smaller room that smelled of incense. It wasn't as bad as he initially thought it was. It was...soothing. It smelled like vanilla, maybe.

In the middle sat an older-looking servant. They seemed, from Jean's perspective, to be praying or meditating. But when he and his guide entered the room, the older servant turned around to look at him.

Recognition sparked on his face, and he made a sound of surprise.

The helmsman smiled at him, standing up. "Master Jean-Luc."  He nodded at the younger servant, who gave Jean a knowing glance before leaving the room. Alone, Halle's smile became somber. "I imagine someone told you the truth, or you wouldn't be here."

The words, while certainly not intended to be a jab, stung Jean so hard his heart skipped a beat. But it was true. He never even would have imagined coming to the servant's quarters if it wasn't for what Celezar said.

He shook his head, taking a step forward. "I didn't know—"

"No one in your family knows. No one but the Madam." Halle's smile faded.

"Don't..." Jean covered his face. He pulled at his hair, staring at the floor. "My mother knows? She...she knew?"

"Yes. She was born around the time we were bound to—"

"What?" Jean all but shouted. He turned to face him completely. "My mother was born around the time you were bound?" At the silent, solemn nod, he moved back to press against a wall, running a hand over his head.

He was raised believing the servants had been bound to the Lowells for as long as his family could remember. Even during his great-grandfather's time.

Lies.

Everything was a lie.

Between his teeth, he snarled, "That...bitch."

This inhuman sound was something Halle obviously did not expect as he nervously swallowed.

Taking quick steps forward, Jean faced him. "Tell me...everything. Go back to the beginning."

Halle, who had raised his hands non-threateningly, nodded. "The main branch wanted to erase us. They considered us an embarrassment and a despicable existence, carrying 'their' blood in our veins. Some fifty-odd years ago, they devised a powerful spell to bind us to our own blood, the blood of the non-inhuman members of the Lowell family."

Taken aback, Jean's expression devolved to one of abject horror.

The man's expression became a soft, understanding but almost apologetic smile.

That, too, twisted Jean's insides.

He covered his face with a hand, feeling the tears forming in his eye. His left eye stung, and he shut them both. He thought of all the servants living under his family's proud manor. Doing so only caused the tears to pour faster down his face.

These people were his family.

To him, family was more than blood ties. Family was anyone who made you feel safe, welcomed, home. His own biological family was always difficult for him to understand, but he felt more at home in the Cellar with his men and what little family was with them than anywhere or anyone else.

To know now he not only had more family but that they lived in such a way, that they were treated in such a way by their own blood reminded him of his uncle Alfred. It was already heart-wrenching to know why what happened to him occurred. Now, he truly wondered what his uncle died for.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his cracked voice barely audible. "I'm so...so sorry..."

Halle moved to sit in front of him. A hand was placed on his shoulder, but nothing was said.

Sorry didn't cut it. It wasn't even touching the surface of the decades of injustices done to them.

He shakily exhaled. "How...how can I make this right?"

"No, Jean." Halle's voice was soft. "Of your family members, only the Madam knows how to undo the spell. We both know she never will."

Jean twitched. Now that he knew, all forms of submissive address to his family hurt and angered him. But, for now, it would stay that way.

He wiped his tears away, though he kept his gaze lowered. "Fuck...Fuck." He remained still for only a few seconds more, then went to his feet. Halle did the same. To him, he said, "There's someone I need to speak to. I don't know how, I don't specifically know when, but you will be freed of this thrice-accursed spell."

Halle smiled his signature small, understanding smile. "I believe you."

*    *    *

Opening the entrance to leave the underground home, Jean met Celezar standing before him.

Sapphire blue orbs met sad olive greens. Jean tried to muster some anger towards his mate for keeping the truth away from him. It simply didn't work. Sighing, he closed the doors to the underground and turned to face the hybrid.

Shoulders rising and falling, he stepped forward into a gentle embrace. He rested his head against Celezar's, letting his eyes close.

"I've been looking for the rest of your inhuman family for years," Celezar explained in a murmur. His arms completely slid around Jean's waist. "I will continue to look for them."

Jean slightly nodded. "Thank you."

A soft, rumbling hum was the response.

"What happens now?" he asked while opening his eyes.

Celezar looked straight at him. "When we have a moment to, we will continue to train. Your family will have to wait, for the moment." He narrowed his eyes. "Only until we get the Entity and Domien to go away."