"I'd prefer you didn't act like such an ass around here," Kris muttered as one of the servants dropped a tray of dishes at the sight of the massive cat.
Rhyn stayed in his form until they reached a narrow, winding set of stairs. He changed shape before descending behind Kris. They walked down and through an unused part of the dungeons. Their path dead-ended at a large wooden door. Kris produced a key chain from his pocket and unlocked the five locks before pulling the heavy door open.
"You afraid Pop's gonna escape?" Rhyn asked, amused by the security.
"The magic lingering in our father's blood renders the ground here sacred. I've sealed off the crypt with magic to keep Immortals from entering through the shadow world, and installed locks for those who wander where they shouldn't be," Kris said.
"We should just toss him in the deepest hole in Hell."
"I don't expect you to understand what it is to care about someone else."
Rhyn said nothing. His brother had no idea the depth of emotion even a half-demon could feel. When he'd looked into Katie's eyes and dared her to admit she didn't love him, he'd seen everything he needed to know. He didn't feel like the half-demon bastard he was when he was with her.
"Pay your respects, brother, while I allow it," Kris said, and pushed the door open. The chamber beyond was dark, lit by the soft glow of a single torch beside a clear sarcophagus.
Rhyn's eyes lingered on the body on the altar before he took in the seven statues of descending size surrounding the altar.
Kris lit another torch to shed light on the murals on the floor. There was one beneath each statue representing a continent. The largest statue was Andre, their eldest brother who had recently become dead-dead, standing over Europe. Kris was next in size, standing on a mural of North America.
The smallest statue was Rhyn as a child of five or six, standing on Antarctica. He circled his statue, barely recalling his life growing up. Each of the Council That Was Seven was represented, dutifully overlooking their father's corpse. Rhyn faced the sarcophagus, surprised to see his father looked as he had when he last saw him thousands of years before. Their father had Andre's dark skin, and his hair was grey at the temples. His features were most like Rhyn's: heavy and roughly hewn, while his body was lean like Kris's.
"This might interest you more," Kris said in a cold voice.