by S. M. Lynch
“I don’t know for sure. My memories of life after arriving on the island are distant. It’s the life I lived before that I remember more now. My parents. My friends. My studies.”
“And what did your parents believe, do you think?”
“I’d disappeared? Like those stories about abductions and stuff.” Kyle could only hope, but Ryken’s expression told him otherwise. “Of course, the 2003 article Ari found was most likely planted. Records pre-2023 surely could have been corrupted… falsified. Anything can be manipulated online, right?”
“Most likely,” Ryken agreed. “Or maybe they thought you took matters into your hands and they didn’t want to view their son like that?”
Kyle hoped his parents had never thought that. “No, they knew I wouldn’t. I like to think they decided I’d been taken for research… or perhaps they believed I’d disappeared so they didn’t have to watch. Anyway, since I woke up in London, I’ve been looking back to see what became of them, but there are no records of them post-2023. Either they died or went into hiding, I don’t know. My dad did have a bunker. He was convinced a war was coming. Of course, I was gone from their lives twenty years before the outbreak, so I don’t know what happened to them between those years, either. The records just aren’t there. He could’ve given up on his apocalyptic theories, or they might have even gotten worse, in which case I’d like to believe they survived, you know?”
“A lot was lost, of course,” Ryken said gravely.
“My memories of them are so clear. I can’t believe I’m a clone of my original self.”
“Seraph found that hard, too,” Hardy admitted. “She remembered everything perfectly. She even had these very early memories of her biological father, and she was wrenched from him when she was two.”
“Wow.” That gave Kyle pause for thought.
“So, you don’t know who sent you, who brought you to London, or to this time?”
“I don’t know,” said Kyle. “I’ve got nothing, nada, on why I’m here now.”
“What about the cravings? Have they settled down?” asked Ryken.
“The hunger? It’s getting better.”
“And what else?”
“Nothing,” Kyle insisted. “Just the hunger… the craving for sex, of course.”
“The hormones,” Ryken explained. “You were shot up with them to get you moving. They level off eventually to normal levels.”
“I’m glad.”
“And she’s not lying to me? You’ve not had sex?”
“She’s wanted to. I’ve wanted to. But she said not until she’s eighteen. I respect her choice.”
Ryken nodded, thankful, understanding… seeming to believe what he was saying.
“Listen,” said Kyle, looking down at the board to realize they were at checkmate—Ryken having somehow overthrown him. “I think I’m falling in love with your daughter. She’s not like anyone else.”
“No, she isn’t,” said Ryken sternly.
“I’ll keep her safe. I feel it’s what I was sent here for. Is this something that might’ve been arranged years ago? Protection for Ari… as she comes of age.”
“Well, it wasn’t myself or Camille, and I can’t think who else would have sent you.” Ryken didn’t seem convinced of this notion, picking his teeth. Then he said, “As long as we’re honest with one another, we’ll get along fine. But please remember, the only person to ever outsmart me was Eve. And know that if any harm comes to my daughter, I’ll enjoy pulling out every single nail, and every single tooth, before I let Camille hang you like a carcass and drain you.”
Kyle knew he wasn’t kidding.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE MORNING AFTER, I WOKE up with my nose pressed into the middle of his chest, the blankets around my ears, his heartbeat the only thing I heard, his arms clasped around me the only thing I really felt. I inhaled the smell of him, a bit like the bath yesterday, but more like him. He smelled like grass and earth and warmth, a peculiar mixture, unique to him.
I nudged my way upwards and found his eyes closed, though he was smiling. I smoothed the pad of my index finger over his lips and he smiled wider.
“How did you sleep?” I whispered.
“Very well, once I could tear my eyes off the ethereal creature in my arms.”
Then his eyes shot open and he grabbed me and threw me over, making me roar with laughter when he buried his face in my neck and growled like a bear.
It quickly became less funny and more intimate when he kissed me and I wrapped my arms around him. His hair made him appear as if he’d suffered an electric shock last night and his back still had indents from where I’d scratched my nails down it yesterday.
But that morning, we were tender with one another and careful. We worshipped one another all over the bed, soft kisses and gentle touches. I’d become a woman because of him. I now knew what it felt like to be equal to a powerful man. I knew how it was to feel alive. To feel adored and relevant. I loved his body and he loved mine, but we also loved one another.
When we’d exhausted ourselves, I lay across his chest, my leg hooked over his body, his hands teasing through my ruined, knotty mass of hair.
“Can it be like this forever?” I mumbled.
“I wish more than anything that it could.”
“Me too.”
“But you know it can’t, Ari.”
“Why can’t it?” I said, annoyed.
“You’re far from ordinary. One day, you’ll be called upon to lead this world to better days. And I don’t know if I shall be part of that. I only know I’m here to get you there.”
I had the most humongous lump in my throat and lifted myself over him to look down into his eyes, shocked beyond shock.
“What are you saying? That you’d leave me?”
“Never!” he exclaimed, pulling me closer, his hands around my cheeks. “I would never leave you willingly, but we both know, someone sent me here to complete a task… and I don’t know what lies ahead of us.”
I wasn’t sure his words made me feel better or worse, though I was certainly glad to know he wouldn’t leave me if it were his choice—that he felt the same and never wanted to be parted.
I clung to his shoulders, my face pressed into his chest. “Don’t leave me, Kyle.”
“Even if I have to, I’ll still be with you, every second, of every day,” he said, speaking into my hair. Then he put his hand over my heart. “I’ll be in here. And wherever I go, I’ll be thinking of you too, constantly, wishing to be back with you. And I will not stop until I get back to you. I will never, ever leave you, Ari. Not really. We’ll be together forever, I promise. I will always come back to you.”
“Promise?” I asked, shuddering in his arms.
“I promise, pretty lady. Nobody else will ever claim my heart.”
“I hope so,” I said, “I really do.”
***
MY BIRTHDAY MORNING, I woke up pretty much in the same position as I always woke up, now we were properly sleeping together—inside his arms, surrounded by his warmth and scent and strength.
“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he said, and I lifted my chin so he could kiss my lips. “There’s a gift. It’s on the dresser.”
“For me?” I exclaimed. “Don’t say it’s from Dad or Camille, though.”
“From me,” he said, his eyebrows lifting up and down.
“HOW?”
I threw myself out of bed, grabbed my fleece robe and tossed it on, lurching for the gift. It was something light and delicate, seemed like clothing. I was intrigued. He sat up in bed, pulled a t-shirt over his head now his torso was above the covers, and watched me as I sat next to him, carefully peeling open my gift.
Inside, I found the most beautiful black lingerie… and my cheeks burnt scarlet. He was biting his index finger between his teeth, looking tense, worried I wouldn’t like it.
I handled the goods carefully, unfolding them and laying them out. Silk camisole with matching French knic
kers, lace detail. Black. My favorite color.
“They’re gorgeous, how did you find them?”
“Camille helped me,” he admitted. “She said only because it was your eighteenth. She knows a woman who knows a woman who makes these. They were delivered when you weren’t around.”
“Good old Camille. And what, pray tell, did Camille demand in exchange?”
“I had to give her a torso shot. Apparently, it was goals. Whatever that means.”
I threw my head back laughing. “And she says she’s not into men.”
“I genuinely don’t think she is and just wanted some motivation. Anyway, if you saw a perfect woman walking down the street, would you be able to deny she’s perfect?”
I glared at him. “Someone’s saying they’re perfect, are they?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Might be.”
He was absolutely perfect and he knew it.
“Wait right here, then,” I said, and took away my new underwear.
In the bathroom, I quickly pulled on my new fancy bits and admired them in the mirror. He wouldn’t be able to control himself once he got a good look.
When I stood in the doorway, nearly freezing in my scant clothing, he sat up taller in bed and licked his bottom lip.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said, and held out his hand to me.
I stood by the side of the bed and did a twirl as he held my hand.
“Now I get to take it off again,” he said, tugged me to him, and threw me across the bed.
The knickers didn’t stay on long, and my real gift was the eager, unrelenting tongue he swept through my core as the silk clung to my sweaty body, my legs wrapped around his shoulders.
“WHAT DO YOU want to do today?” he asked sometime later, as we ate breakfast in front of the TV—the latest news, which was that Roche was closing her borders in a month, permanently. Basically, anyone who wanted a decent life had a month to make it there, or they were on their own.
The UK had always been singular and would survive through ingenuity. France would also survive, somehow… because she always had things other countries couldn’t make so well. Spain, Germany, all the other northern European nations… would survive. But India would buckle under pressure from China. Eastern Europe would buckle under Russia. If America took herself out of the game, the more vulnerable countries would slide back into old ways. And Africa? Sometimes I couldn’t even bear to hear how many people still died there on a daily basis. The cradle of civilization bore life for so long, but now it seemed like they would be the first to fall foul of this new world.
I switched it off before it ruined my birthday.
“I don’t want to do anything but stay here with you.”
“Okay,” he said, not convinced. “You don’t want to see some art? Go grab a hot chocolate or café au lait?”
“Nope. Just me and you. Here. Going nowhere.”
“Okay.”
And we really didn’t go anywhere.
We made each other happy. We didn’t need anything but one another. I felt at peace when I was with him. I trusted him and I loved him. It was so simple, even if as individuals, we weren’t so simple.
In fact, something as simple as him painting a picture of me seemed miraculous and amazing. I sat for him that day in Camille’s armchair in the bedroom because there was good light in that room. I was wearing my oversized cream sweater with the baggy neck I nearly got lost in, every time I put it on. I tucked my knees into the sweater and held my arms around myself, and he painted me, just like that—with my black hair loose and messy, my eyes staring into his, my toes just peeking out from beneath the knitwear.
And when he showed me he could paint as well as do everything else he could do, I was even more in love. He could paint, too.
It’d taken a while but cooking wasn’t one of his stronger points, and yet for my birthday dinner, he managed steak, mashed potatoes, peas and gravy—and I was as happy as a lamb. Camille and my father had sent over cake, so we had cake for dessert. It had pink icing and a cream sponge inside. It wasn’t massive, or anything, but the fact they’d gone to the effort of ordering a cake to be delivered for me was enough.
And then at bedtime, we lay together, staring at one another. We hadn’t made love, at least not yet. Instead of staring at the TV, we enjoyed just staring at one another. I was wearing my black silk and he was naked.
“Are you sure you liked dinner?”
“I loved it. I sent Camille a photo and she was impressed. She was also glad she got that beef at Christmas. There’s still plenty left in the freezer, too. Even if we only have beef once a month, we’ll have steak for the rest of this year! Some years we’ve not been able to get hold of any.”
He pushed my hair back behind my ear and gazed at my mouth and cheeks. I couldn’t stop looking at the way his shoulders looked, rounded and strong, solid. His skin was so milky, perfect. His plump pink mouth begged to be kissed and he had such a pretty face.
“Has he called or anything?” Kyle asked, and I reeled, even though I’d known it was coming.
“He hasn’t.”
“Would he normally?”
“Normally, no. I’d normally message him, give him a location, and we’d meet on neutral ground. I’d try to talk him into coming back home. He’d refuse. He’d give me flowers or chocolates or something. I’d give him short shrift.”
Kyle chuckled. “He loves you, though?”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
His eyes told me it was obvious. “How could he not? You’re his twin, but you’re also impossible to hate.”
“He did hate me, at times. Being more together makes it easier for your parents to raise you. Not that they ever loved him less, but he was more hard work. He always saw me as the favorite.”
“Of course, you were,” Kyle exclaimed. “Of course. I mean, I wouldn’t have any experience in this… I was an only child. But how could anyone compete with you? I know I wouldn’t try to. So, why can’t he just love you?”
“I don’t know, Kyle. Maybe he’s just not capable. I really don’t know. I thought I did know him, you know? Once. But… now he’s doing the things he does… I don’t know who he is. I don’t.”
Kyle held me in his arms and smiled with so much love in his eyes. “Look at how you’ve changed me. I landed here, didn’t have a clue, and now I’m this, all because of you. Everything I am, everything I can be for you, it’s because you taught me. How could he not see that if he just followed your lead, he’d be okay?”
I had tears in my eyes and I let them go, shedding them willingly. “I don’t know, baby.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, “I’ll never let you down like that.”
And he made the sweetest love to me that night. It was like I’d never known pain or loss or any of it. It was as if it was all fading away, melting into nothing, until there was just me and Kyle and this feeling of peace, calm and contentment.
I got it now. Completely. Mom and Dad had given that to one another. No matter what they had going on in their lives, they always knew they could come back to one another, and nothing would seem that bad, so long as they were together.
And now I had sympathy for my father, which I never had before.
And I also had respect for my mother, because loving someone was brave, and she’d loved him… even when he was completely broken and she knew she might not get anything in return. Yet she’d loved him anyway, and that love, eventually, had restored him.
To think that just the breath of your loved one against your neck at night could be such a beautiful thing. So why had so many people forsaken the simple for the bizarre?
I didn’t get it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE NEXT DAY, KYLE AND I had gone out for some fresh air and to stock up on junk food. Plus, we’d sat down inside a café for hot chocolate and brioche, ended up dropping into a small gallery, and also found a park bench to sit on and watch kids playing wi
th their sleds and skis in the snow. By the time we got back to the house, it was dark, after 3.30 in the afternoon. The days were so gloomy… so cold, still, though it hadn’t snowed for a few days… and now there was just this oppressive gray snow stacked up everywhere, refusing to melt and shoveled off the pathways. Never melting.
We were climbing the steps up to the house, clinging to the railing in case we slipped on the frozen stairs, when I felt it… a presence. Something like the hairs on the back of my neck combined with a general instinct.
I turned and saw a figure approaching from the other way, further up the street. There were people strolling along behind him, too. Though they were at ease, I asked myself why I didn’t feel safe.
Kyle saw me looking and wondered why I’d stopped.
“Let’s go inside. It’s just troublemakers,” he said.
I couldn’t see who it was yet, but I knew. It was a twin thing. Nobody but us understood this connection. This feeling, sometimes. If I started thinking about him, it was like I knew he was thinking about me, too. And whenever he was near, I knew. We could never truly escape one another.
“Arthur,” I whispered, handing Kyle my share of the grocery bags. “Wait here. I mean it. Stay right here. On this step.”
“Ari—”
“Wait,” I commanded, and slowly moved down the stairs, until I stood on the sidewalk, arms folded.
As he got closer and the gloom no longer shrouded him so much, I recognized it was really him. He was dressed in a long gray cloak, a fleece hat pulled down over his ears. He’d gotten bigger. Been experimenting with drugs? I wondered.
“You didn’t get in touch,” he whispered. “Tut tut. We always have a little thing on our birthday. But I see you’ve been busy.”
He remained ten feet away from me, while his men were twenty feet behind him. I could tell Kyle was anxious and wanted to get closer, but when I saw the way Arthur glowered as he nudged a gesture in Kyle’s direction, I put out my hand for Kyle to stay back.