Title: Bred in the Bone (18/20)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Andy Davidson, Toshiko Sato, others

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it!

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Summary: Andy Davidson must embrace his inheritance in order to protect Jack and Ianto’s daughter Gwen

Author's Note: This is an AU where Gwen and Owen were killed by Gray. So if you want to know why Martha is married to Rhys and Jack and Ianto have a CP and two adopted daughters, you may want to read Evolution first

Author’s Note: The title is shamelessly stolen from Robertson Davies’s magnificent novel. It’s also an old saying: what’s bred in the bone will out in the flesh

Part One is here; Part Two is here; Part Three is here; Part Four is here; Part Five is here; Part Six is here; Interlude is here; Part Seven is here; Part Eight is here; Part Nine is here; Part Ten is here; Part Eleven is here; Part Twelve is here; Part Thirteen is here; Part Fourteen is here; Interlude Two is here; Part Fifteen is here; Part Sixteen is here; Part Seventeen is here

           “I’ll go around the back.” Ianto said. “Give me five minutes.”        

 

            Susan Creevey had inherited a rather large bungalow out in Rumney, with a nice-sized garden and a rugby field directly behind its back gate. In the last decade the neighborhood had been overrun by the newly affluent, with their busy jobs, and their busy children attending the best public schools, and their even busier social lives, which meant the whole street was emptier of life than a graveyard at midnight. You could have staged the Six Nations championship match right on the field and not a single curtain would have twitched.

 

            We had taken Manger to the Hub, where he had taken up residence in a weevil cell guarded by Small Ones. The old man was either one of the world’s greatest actors or he had been truly shattered by his run-in with Susan Creevey. He sat quietly while Martha gave him a physical. I saw her wince a couple of times at the state of his hands, and she injected him with antibiotics and painkillers before she stashed him in the cell.  Rhys, with his usual matter-of-fact kindness, provided him with pillows, a blanket, and a cup of hot soup.

 

            While he was being treated by Martha, Manger had readily answered questions. He didn’t know the exact address of the place where he had been held, but he gave Tosh enough information to help her find it. Creevey’s house had been a bequest from a former music teacher who had sort of adopted her after Susan’s mother died and her father went on a gigantic self-pity binge that lasted several years. She had never changed the title deeds – and how she had managed that was a lovely bit of chicanery – so there was no direct link to her.

 

            After grabbing a bit of lunch, Ianto and I had driven out to the house.  The place had an odd look of neglect; odd because everything was absolutely regimental in its tidiness, down to the pansies lined up like little soldiers in the identical flowerbeds on either side of the front door and the ruthlessly mowed lawn. But there was something unhealthy about the whole place, something that irritated my senses, and I waited impatiently for Ianto, wanting to be as far away from the place as possible.

 

            My earpiece crackled. “Let’s go.”

 

            I traced an Opening sigil over the lock and the door swung quietly inward. I had taught Ianto the spell on the way to the house and he had learned it with ridiculous ease. We met in the corridor separating the kitchen and dining room from the reception rooms at the front.

 

            “There’s no one here, but…there’s something wrong,” he told me. “Something feels…”

 

            He was silenced abruptly by a howl coming from somewhere inside the house. The sound was followed by a weak gust of wind that seemed to be coming from underneath the rug. Manger had not mentioned a basement, but he had been confined to a small suite of room on the first floor. Ianto closed his eyes, cocking his head slightly; I could feel the slight stirring of Power and he opened his senses to See.

 

            “Duw,” he whispered. “This way.”

 

            I followed, wondering what had shaken him so much. A door in the small butler’s pantry led to a short, rickety flight of stairs that descended into a darkened basement. I heard Ianto pat the wall until he found the switch. When the light came on I had to fight the urge to retch.

 

            The room was not large. There was nothing in the way of furniture except for an antique church pew against the far wall. The floor was painted black and a ritual circle had been painted on it in white. There was a tall, four-armed candelabrum with red and black candles at each cardinal point.

 

            A tywyl was pinned to it with metal stakes through its wings.

 

            Ianto rushed over. I could feel anger pouring out of him. He swept all of Creevey’s magicks aside with a wave of his arm, and the power nearly shook the house’s foundations. I followed, moving to the other side of the tywyl, grabbing the stake. In the general run of things I had very little sympathy for the child thieves but the savagery Creevey’s actions made me sick to the stomach.

 

            “This will hurt,” I said.

 

            It nodded. It was its only acknowledgment of our presence. Ianto looked at me and mouthed silently one…two…three. On three we pulled and as the stakes pulled clear, the tywyl howled again and gusts of wind rattled the stairs.

 

            “Will you speak to us?” Ianto asked.

 

            It nodded. “What do the Usurper Kings want to know?”

 

            Ianto gave me a questioning look. “That is their name for us,” I explained. “They feel we have taken their place in the magickal pattern of this world. Perhaps they are right in some ways.”

 

            I let Ianto ask the questions. The tywyl had no reason to love one of my kind, and it would be best if it could deceive itself into thinking it wasn’t really helping us.

 

            “Susan Creevey? Where is she?”

 

            “She left. Took our Chosen One with her. We must obey her, or the Chosen One will die.”

 

            “Why did she do this to you?”

 

            “The woman stole our Chosen One. We have been searching for many a moon turn for her. We learned of this house and came looking.”  It shuddered. “The woman is powerful and wicked. She held us in thrall. She made the others punish me as an example.”

 

            I traded looks with Ianto. The tywyl had been in direct touch with Creevey’s mind. There might be something we could learn.

 

            “What is her magick like?” I asked as softly as I could.

 

            It shuddered. “There’s cold metal at the heart of it. No touch of air or earth, water or fire. It wants nothing and feels nothing.”

 

            “It is said your people are very skilled in Seeing. What did you See when the woman touched your mind?”

 

            “A glove. A metal glove. It is not whole, but it still has great power. The wicked one is tied to it and her own Power would suffer much if it were destroyed.”

 

            This time is was Ianto who shuddered. Sitting back on his heels, he released his gentle grip on the tywyl. “Thank you for your help, kinsman. You can go.”

 

            The tywyl flickered out as soon as he felt Ianto’s hands move. I stared at Ianto. “I thought those things were destroyed.”

 

             Ianto swore ripely in several languages as he pulled out his cell phone. “No reception. Come on…”

 

            We were both startled to see the tywyl flicker back into view. It looked over both its shoulders, as if worried we could be overheard. “It would go bad for me with my own people if they knew I would help you. The wicked woman hides in the old man’s place. The place with the music.”

 

            It flickered out again. Ianto and I pelted up the stairs as fast as we could. Once out of the house, he called again.   “Damn. Jack’s not answering his phone. Tosh? Listen. I need you to get into the secure Archives and find the box with the pieces of the Risen Mitten. Yes, I know, but it still has something to do with this… Where is Jack?..... What?... No…. Find it, Tosh. Even a tiny little piece. Andy and I will go find Jack and John.”

 

            His voice had dropped into a whisper. I could feel fear pouring out of him. “Ianto? What is it?”

 

            “There was an energy spike somewhere near the Castle. Jack sent Rhys and Euan to deal with it. A few minutes later there was another one. It was massive. Jack went to look at it himself. For some reason John insisted in going with him.”

 

            “So?”

 

            “The second spike was right on top of the place where the old Ritz dance hall used to be.”