Chapter Text
Cayce Spicer had never been an ambitious man. Within his veins flowed the purest Infamy and an Unspeakable Darkness that seemed to have a will of its own. The Spicer bloodline had become synonymous with 'ill fortune'. Not ill fortune for them—ill fortune for humanity. The carnage of Vlad the Impaler. The necrophilic fascinations of Gilles de Rais. The dark sorcery of the "Blood Countess" Bathory. The wicked whispers of the "mad monk", Rasputin. Even the crazed curiosity of H. H. Holmes. The evil heritage he carried within him was of the highest pedigree. In truth, the Spicer family line was littered with great sorcerers, black magicians, and psychopaths. Madness, it was said, not only ran in the Spicer line—it blazed, naked and painted in blood and dark magic, a twisted trail throughout history. But Cayce Spicer, named by his parents for Edgar Cayce, had never been particularly gifted in the department of diabolical schemes. Even his name was a bit of a dud. It had become tradition in the Spicer family line to gift the firstborn son a name connected to some great infamy or tragedy. Edgar Cayce, though a mysterious man in his own right, only barely fit the bill. Yes, he had suffered a few shakes of the head over the years from both parents, wondering if the name they had chosen for him had somehow brought him ill fortune of his own. Or rather, good fortune. ... Not Evil fortune. Truthfully, Cayce Spicer rather liked his name, just as he rather liked the historical figure for which he was named.
He never had a head for scheming or bloodthirst. His father had been a terror known as the Maniac of Manhattan. His mother, a brilliant scientist, had once held the entire city of Beijing hostage. All very successful villains. Cayce... Cayce never made a name for himself that way. If it had been up to him, he would be more than content to stay shut away, lost in the world of his books and archeological reveries. He always had a fondness for the occult, and anthropology, and he much preferred the words of dead sorcerers to those of living people. Perhaps his name was to blame.
He made his way well enough, tried to live up to his parents' expectations. But he knew in his heart that the only thing that saved his Evil career was the Evil fortune of marrying into a powerful criminal family in Hong Kong.
His mother had done work for them in the past, fostering a special relationship with the underworld kingpins of the Far Eastern city which continued when she moved to the States. In a roundabout way, it was through this relationship that he had met Chai Aijing, princess of the Hong Kong underworld, well known and sought-after in her own right. How he had ever managed to draw the eye of such a treasure he could never know. They were young, Evil, and full of romantic notions. Cayce had always been a fool for romantic notions, and Aijing carried with her a dangerous allure. He had been smitten with her the moment he laid eyes upon her. And somehow, through some Evil blessing (if there could be such a thing), she had taken notice of him.
The rest, as they say, was Evil history. They fell in love. Committed crimes together. Pulled off many anecdote-worthy cons. Got engaged. A happy, loving, and romantic story on all accounts—and Cayce Spicer was, indeed, a fool for romantic notions. He even called her his 'Bonnie from over the ocean’—a corny but heartfelt nod to the Romeo and Juliet of the criminal world.
Aijing used her connections to elevate him in the eyes of the Shuimen and all their associates. He became a well-known and lucrative dealer of stolen and rare artifacts, and his was the very last word on esoteric archeology.
Yet, for all his success, Cayce could never fully shake the feeling that something, somewhere, had gone wrong. He could not place his finger on it, and he spent many a night awake, burying his mind in his books in hopes of escaping the gnawing notion that things were not as they should have been.
Everything had gone downhill shortly after the young couple was gifted with a baby boy. Cayce had never been more delighted than when he laid eyes upon his wife holding their newborn child, still squishy and red from the womb. For the first few hours of his son's life, it was like a dream. A perfect image of his success—a beautiful wife, and their own child to carry on his lineage. Keeping with his family's tradition, he granted his son a tragic middle-name—Salem, after the hysteria-fueled killings of Salem Massachusetts. A notable event in America's occult history and a sufficiently romantic choice of name for their Evil progeny. And, as stated before, Cayce Spicer was a fool for romantic notions.
But then they received the call to bring their infant son before the Fathers to receive their blessing, for such was the tradition of the organization. All children of the Shuimen's most prominent lines were to brought before the heads of their order. The young lovers gathered up their bundle of joy and held their breath in nervous, but proud, anticipation as they came before the council of their elders.
It was a lovely, romantic night by their reckoning—stormy, dreary, perfect and desolate—when they were chauffeured to the Shuimen's headquarters. Non-descript men in dark suits ushered them into the council's chamber. Exchanging wondering looks, the young parents quietly stood before the heads of their order. Within the corner of the room lurked a thin and papery man, known to Cayce Spicer, silently.
The Shuimen Fathers, wizened and hard, sat upon silk cushions, elevated by several steps from where Cayce and his wife now stood. Chief among them was AIjing's own father, and Cayce's father-in-law. He was named Chai Yaoying, but he was better known as the Iron Dragon, and he was a cruel and mirthless man, one of ruthless disposition and even more ruthless standards. It was said that the Iron Dragon only smiled for one person, and that was his beloved daughter, Aijing.
He had never approved of Cayce—an American half-breed—and it was only with reluctance, and much pleading from his daughter, that the old man blessed their marriage. He regarded Cayce with a hard gaze as the two came to bow before him and his associates.
To the side of the council sat an old woman, frail and trembling in her age, with dull, grey hair and dull, grey eyes to match it. She sat upon a silk cushion to Cayce and Aijing's left, midway between them and the Fathers. She barely glanced upon the couple as they knealt upon two mats before the council. As soon as the couple took their seats, without a word, the old woman hobbled toward them. With an indication of her hands the old woman reached out to receive their child. Aijing reluctantly allowed her only child to be taken from her graps.
"State his name," were the only words the woman spoke to the couple.
"Jonath—" Cayce began but caught himself under the hard glare of his father-in-law, "Er, Chai Renhyuan."
The old woman turned her back upon the couple, carrying the babe before the Shuimen Fathers, rocking him and mumbling incoherent phrases to him. Little Chai Renhyuan, with eyes barely open, looked blearily around the room, cooing as the old woman spoke the words. She paced back and forth in a tottering way a few times before returning to her seat. She wrapped the babe in a silk cloth, waving incense over him thrice, and cradling him in her arms. Baby Jack sneezed as she pressed her hand upon his forehead. Her mutterings fell away and the chamber became oppressively silent. The young couple exchanged nervous looks with one another.
For a moment, Cayce wondered if the woman had actually fallen asleep, sitting with her hand pressed upon Renhyuan's head. He started when the old woman let out a hoarse and sickly gasp.
"This child...!" She wheezed, "I see him standing between Shadow and Light, one foot upon the grave, the other within a silver sea! This child shall walk a perilous path, one of ruin, and—and DESTRUCTION! Oooh!" The old woman moaned and Aijing's hand instinctively gripped her husband's knee. The old woman began to rock back and forth, and the babe in her arms began to squirm and whimper. "I see...a dark goddess. A witch. She of the shadowed lands! The land of Naught! In one hand she holds the Moon! In the other she wields a chain! Her hair, flowing, flowing red, like blood! Her eyes gleaming as the blood of the gods themselves! She will be the end of us! She shall bring demise to this Age! Ruin! Oooh, I see RUIN! Desolation! The end of the Shuimen! The end of the Order! The end of all we VALUE!" The woman's voice rose to a fever pitch and the babe began to scream.
Aijing stiffened, hard-pressed to stay seated as the woman rocked violently, the babe looking as if to tumble from her arms at any second. Cayce, cast a wild glance upon the Fathers and his wife. He was about to stand himself when the woman cried out,
"Take him from me! Take the child!" she cried.
Aijing needed no further word—she ran to the woman's side and snatched her child from the old woman's talons.
The seer panted and looked hard upon the babe now cradled in Aijing's arms, and upon his mother, "That... That child..." she rasped, "Should he find his power, your child shall bring great change to this world. The witch... This... Dark goddess. She must not be allowed to manifest! Your child is the key... HER key... Yet she is ALSO the Key to this child's power! She... She..." The woman fell silent, closing her eyes in a pained and weary expression. She looked as if to swoon but then bowed her head.
Aijing took several tentative steps backwards, clutching her son. Cayce's face had become pale. He continued to gaze at the woman in horror, wondering if she might die that very moment, and loath to think what his father-in-law's reaction might be if she did. Cayce swallowed hard, closing his eyes, before finally mustering the courage to look upon his father-in-law.
A deep silence fell upon the room, save for Renhyuan's cries as his mother tried to shush him. Chai Yaoying gazed upon the young family with iron eyes. Aijing looked tearfully up at her father, still rocking her baby, while the old man stared hard at his grandchild.
The silence persisted for an agonizing length of time. Cayce placed a hand on his wife's shoulder as she came to sit beside him, once their child had quieted.
The Fathers looked upon one another and then Yaoying spoke,
"This child shall dishonor our Family."
"Father—" Aijing began to plead, but her father raised his hand for her to be silent. The old man looked troubled for a fleeting moment, bowing his head and bearing a deep frown. His daughter pleaded to him with her eyes. Cayce held his jaw taught, and held his breath.
At last the Iron Dragon opened his eyes. For a brief moment, Cayce saw a flicker of pain pass within his visage as he looked upon his daughter. The old man turned his gaze upon the old woman.
"Never have Madame Chao's predictions led us astray, for all the long years she has served our Family. This prediction comes as a great disturbance." he said.
"Surely there might be some hope for our son," Cayce blurted.
The old man looked to reply but the old woman spoke instead,
"The Sight sees many paths and the waters of Fate shifting. Nothing is set in stone. But I say to you now, as I say to this whole council, your child holds great potential. A power that can be used for either great Evil, or great Good. Your actions shall the path of our Fate."
"Then there is still hope." Cayce breathed, and cast an earnest glance upon his father-in-law, "Please—"
"Father," Aijing interrupted her husband, "If we pledge to keep our child hidden away, kept where the world shall not see him, kept from power or the eyes of our enemies, perhaps this Fate can be avoided."
"This child's birth is an ill omen!" One of the council's younger members said suddenly, "He should be put to death!"
"No!" Aijing gasped, but caught herself and measured her voice once more. She bowed her head, exhaling, and then raised her eyes. When she spoke again her voice came cool, even, and slow,
"I, we, promise to keep our child from this Fate. We shall ensure he stays hidden. We shall not allow him to endanger our great Family." Then she bowed low, as low as possible while holding her child, "Please, spare his life."
Another silence fell as Yaoying gazed upon his daughter, and then he looked at his son-in-law. Cayce swallowed and nodded. The old man exhaled and looked once more upon the seer.
"Madame Chao, your council is honored and respected. Please, if there is any way to spare us this Fate, and to spare this child, tell us." he said.
Madame Chao cast a steely glance upon the old man, holding him in quiet regard as she contemplated. When she spoke her words were quiet and firm,
"If you do as you say, and the child's power remains dormant, and the goddess remains asleep, then perhaps this Fate can be avoided."
Chai Yaoying turned to his daughter, "Then you know what you must do. The child may live, but he shall not receive our blessing. He shall be kept from the Shuimen's affairs, and he shall never be a part of our Family. Go."
The young family left the chamber of the Shuimen Fathers that night in tears.
Eighteen years later, Cayce Spicer sat with his nose bent toward a book in his study. A few months had passed since the wretched affair with the Shuimen fathers, in which the existence of the phylactery had been revealed to Jack. Since Jack had been imprisoned and tortured, and since Cayce's wife had pleaded with the Fathers for their child's life once again.
Cayce turned the page of his book as he reflected, but then turned it back to the previous page. He found himself unable to focus upon his reading. With a soft sigh he gently shut the book, sliding it onto his desk and leaning back in his chair. He shut his eyes and inhaled the gloom of the darkly-wooded library, taking
in the comforting scent of old books. He opened his eyes when he sensed the shift of air that came with the door's opening.
Jack froze for a moment in the library's doorway, and a brief moment of tense regard passed between parent and child. Jack’s were cast upon the carpet and trudged with purpose to one of the shelves. Cayce blinked awkwardly, unsure whether to gaze at his child or not. He instinctively reached for his book and buried his nose in it, opting not to face his child.
Such was as it had been for the past months. Neither looked at one another. Neither spoke. Cayce stared hard at the text, pretending to read it but actually working to tamp down the sick feeling in his stomach. There it was again. The sense that something had gone wrong. Images of that night so long ago knocked upon the door of his mind. The fateful trip to the sorcerer's estate.
They had been told it was the only option. The only way to keep their child alive. Jack had screamed, not understanding. But it had been for his good. Surely he had to understand that now. Surely, Cayce had done the right thing... He snapped his book shut with more force than he intended. A nervous glance upward revealed to still be ignoring him, as it always was. Cayce leaned over his desk, absently shuffling some papers, attempting to look busy.
That night... It had changed everything. His wife's eyes had grown steely, and the bed between them cold. Though his father-in-law had passed, he saw the old man's eyes within those of his wife. Looking hard upon him. Judging him. The love between them had faded long ago, as the love between them and their child had transformed into something... wrong.
Cayce gritted his teeth, and he nearly spoke. As always, his heart faltered and he resorted once again to his books. Nothing felt exciting anymore. Only his research sustained him. In the long hours of the night he was wearied by melancholy and half-lucid dreams.
Jack did not even look at him anymore. Like his wife, his child had also changed. Where a once was light, now that same steel had come into his child's gaze. And the light had been replaced by something else. A glimmer of something Cayce knew all too well. It ran in the family. Actually, it nearly galloped. Madness. He had seen it in his father's eyes before the man was finally caught and put to death. When his bloodthirst had been at its highest. He had seen it in his mother's eyes whenever she bent over her workbench, crafting the latest machine meant for torment and death.
Jack had always been a sensitive boy. And, in moments when Cayce's melancholy allowed it, he nearly saw a glint of his own childhood self reflected back at him when he had looked upon his own child. But now that faint reflection was overshadowed by the legacy that had run hard upon his heels his entire life. Madness. And destruction. That Unspeakable Darkness.
Perhaps things could have been different for him. Perhaps it was because of his name. Perhaps his life could have been something else. It was too late to tell, and he no longer had the heart to consider it. The same darkness that had consumed his own existence had now seeped into his own child. It was too late. It was always 'too late' for Cayce Spicer.
Jack left the room without a word.
As always, it was too late.