by Lund, S. E.
I must manage them—and myself—carefully. I won’t become Marguerite.
I won’t.
* * *
A key slides into the lock and my heart rate increases, for it’s Michel. I sit up in bed and wait, smoothing my hair, which has become a tangled mess, the braid coming undone as I tossed and turned, waiting for him.
His footsteps mark his passage through the cottage, from the front door to the living room and then to the kitchen. With my enhanced vampire senses, I can hear every sound. He opens the ice box door and I hear the clink of glass against glass. He’s getting some blood, probably thirsty and hungry after the trip from Boston. Then he cracks the bedroom door and peers inside, catching sight of me sitting on the bed, the blankets pulled up around me.
I can’t help but smile when our eyes meet, for during the few days off between brothers, I started to miss him. It’s been nine days since we were together and I feel a distinct sense of deprivation despite having spent a happy and very erotic week with Julien.
When I’m separated from him, I feel deprived of Michel.
“I thought you’d be sleeping,” he says and enters the room, pulling his sweater over his head. He sits on the side of the bed, leaning over to take my face in his hands, smiling at me. His hair falls in his eyes but I can see desire in them. I can feel his need.
I close my eyes when he leans down, his lips hovering over mine for a moment before he kisses me, the kiss soft. When he pulls away, he brushes an errant strand of hair off my cheek. “I imagined sneaking into bed beside you, enjoying your warmth while you slept. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you. I haven’t slept since dawn,” I say and yawn. “I can’t.”
“Are you well?” A frown crosses his face, his brows furrowing. He takes my hand and feels my pulse. “Have you been drinking enough blood?”
I smile, his show of concern touching my heart. “I’m fine. I was just excited.”
He nods and seems to relax. Then, he stands up and begins to remove his shirt, unbuttoning the cuffs and pulling it off his arms, discarding it on the bench at the base of the bed with his sweater.
“I brought some fresh fish,” he says as he unbuttons his jeans, watching me intently as he does. “Even though you’re a vampire, you still have to eat. You look far too thin for my liking.”
“You here to fatten me up?” I say with mock affront.
He smiles, but looks at me from the corner of his eyes as he strips off his jeans, leaving him naked except for a pair of black boxer briefs.
“I like you on the curvier side, Eve. It’s Julien who likes muscle.”
I shrug. I have lost a few pounds since I became a vampire. The newness of the life and the effects of drinking blood tend to mute my hunger for real food. Plus, I haven’t been training properly, so I’ve lost some muscle.
Finally undressed, Michel stands beside the bed and watches me. He’s well-muscled, his skin smooth and pale, just like his brother. I smile like a child in a candy shop waiting for a treat, guilty that I have so much to choose from. I can’t help but compare the brothers and how they approach me, how they touch me. Michel feels different from Julien. I can’t help but compare them even at this moment when we’ve only reunited after being apart for nine days. Michel is so intense, serious, focused, and deliberate. Julien is playful, impulsive, and expressive.
Both twins make my heart race and my body and mind respond, but I shouldn’t be thinking of Julien with Michel next to me.
Michel crawls on top of me, straddling my hips, and takes my hands in his. He raises them above my head, restraining me before leaning over me, his eyes intense.
His small show of power shocks me back into the moment and into our relationship, which is so very different from that with his brother.
“Look into my eyes, Eve,” he commands. “Focus.”
I do, and all thoughts of Julien vanish as I shut off my mind, shut off the tendency to compare, and turn myself over to him, gasping when his mouth moves down from my cheek to my jaw, down my neck to his bite mark, which he licks softly, slowly, sending a shiver through my body. He moves lower, his mouth claiming a nipple while he squeezes my breast. I writhe in exquisite pleasure beneath him. He possesses me completely, I forget Julien and lose myself in Michel, in his expert control of my body’s responses.
I feel complete bliss in his arms and the world outside, with all its troubles and hardships, falls away into nothingness.
I shut off my mind, shut off the tendency to compare, and turn myself over to him, gasping when his mouth moves down from my cheek to my jaw, down my neck to his bite mark, which he licks softly, slowly, sending a shiver through my body.
I feel complete bliss in his arms and the world outside, with all its troubles and hardships, falls away into nothingness.
* * *
Later, Michel lies beside me, watching me, one hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. “I love you, Eve. Never forget that.”
I turn to face him. “I love you, too, Michel.”
He leans in and kisses me softly. When he pulls back, his face is somber. “Things will happen that…” he says and hesitates. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if he doesn’t want to admit it. “Things will happen,” he says again and opens his eyes, his expression intense. Almost afraid. “Things will happen that make you hate me.”
“I could never hate you,” I reply. How could I hate the beautiful, soulful man beside me? How? I love him with all my heart despite what he’s done in the past. I understand why he did everything and understanding has opened my heart for acceptance.
He’s heroic in his willingness to deny his own happiness for the sake of humanity. A lesser man would run from what Michel has faced. He didn’t. He remained loyal to his cause.
“You could hate me and you will, Eve. Please remember, when you do find yourself hating me, that no matter what, I love you. I always have and I always will.”
His expression is so serious, so determined, that I know it’s no good protesting.
“I’ll remember,” I say to appease him and make him happy.
“I’m serious, Eve,” he says and his intensity makes me pause. Once more, he takes my hands and holds them in his to show how serious he really is. “You will hate me. Remember that everything I do is to protect you and fight Dominion.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment until he’s certain that I appreciate how important it is.
“When that moment comes, and it will,” he says, his voice soft. “When you do hate me, remember this moment, here and now.” He stops for a moment as if he’s too full of emotion to speak. “Remember how we feel for each other.”
He drops down the walls between us and this wave of love, need and devotion from him floods into me and it’s so intense, it brings tears to my eyes.
“Oh, Michel,” I whisper, my voice breaking. I pull my hands out of his and wrap my arms around his shoulders, kissing him to stop all this darkness.
Being a vampire, he responds immediately and I do my best to make him forget everything except our mutual passion.
* * *
On the following Sunday morning, I’m alone. Michel left early Saturday. I spent the day walking the beach and the evening watching the stars. I snuck under the covers as the sun rose.
I pull the quilt up now, almost covering my eyes, but I can still see thin sunbeams shining in through tiny slits between the drapes that I never seem able to close completely. A million motes of dust dance in the sliver of light, and for a moment, I miss the sun. I miss it so completely that a stab of regret chokes me up because it reminds me that I'm no longer human. I draw in a deep breath and tell myself that soon, Dylan will get me Blackstone's drug and I'll be able to return to the sunlight.
Until then, I’ll spend my days trapped inside.
Despite being tired, I can't sleep, on edge because of the message Dylan sent me through the HAM operator in Davis Cove. A young messenger boy on an old bicycle delivered
the hand-written message Saturday evening. It was cryptic, but I was able to figure out what he meant.
Here's a bit of scary news. The boxes holding Schrodinger's thirteen cats were empty when scientists went to check on them this morning. Just empty boxes with no cats inside, and the security guards protecting the experiment from tampering were dead. Can't explain, but not a good sign for our theories of physics. Until we know if the cats are dead or alive, scientists will have to be extra careful when talking about causality.
P.S. I'll be by tonight to discuss.
Trust Dylan to code his message using physics. Schrodinger's cat refers to a theory in physics about uncertainty and causality. What Dylan means by referencing it is that somehow, the tanks holding Soren and the Twelve were empty when the security shift changed that morning. He doesn't say what they think happened to the "cats," but I can guess. The bodies in stasis were either stolen by someone in Soren's coven in hopes of reviving them, or Soren and the Twelve found a way to fight off the infection and escape, killing the guards on their way out.
Either way, it doesn't bode well for those of us who took part in their (temporary) destruction.
Me in particular.
I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, clearing my mind, but have no luck. Finally, a drowsy warmth overtakes me and I must slip into a dream because I'm in a dark room in bed, my vampire eyes adjusting to the low light.
I feel someone's breath in my ear. A brush of lips on my cheek makes me smile. I can't make out the words at first, and frown, wishing whichever twin it was would speak up.
"What?" I say, reaching behind me to feel for hair so I can know whom I'm with in bed this time. Is it Michel, returned because he forgot something? Or Julien arrived early? Instead of Michel's collar-length strands or Julien's short hair and scruff, I feel long silky hair—far too long to be Michel.
"Eve," the voice says, speaking barely above a whisper, "Eve… you've been a very naughty girl…"
"Who—" I turn and see pale skin, white-blond hair, and red eyes. And the most evil smile I have ever imagined.
I sit up in bed and pull my covers around me, gasping at the image of Soren's face in my dream. I glance around the room. No, he wasn't here. I'm still alone.
But I do know one thing with absolute certainty.
He's free.
* * *
When I finally get up for the night, once the sun has set fully, I've had only a fitful rest. I lay with my eyes open for hours, my mind racing as I tried to figure out what to do. As a result, I'm exhausted and in need of blood. I stagger out of my bedroom and find that Dylan is waiting for me, seated on the sofa looking out over the ocean, his arms thrown over the back. He looks as tired as I feel.
I sit beside him and he leans in and kisses me on the cheek.
"You look as though you've haven’t slept at all."
"Tell me," I say, impatient to hear the latest news.
"What's there to tell?" he says and sighs. "Someone stole the bodies and we have no idea where they are or what they're planning to do with them. Put them on display for worshippers? Use their bodies to obtain more supporters?"
“He’s alive,” I say, my hand on Dylan’s arm. “No longer in stasis.”
He turns to me, his face immediately dark, his brow furrowed. “How do you know?”
“He entered my mind when I was trying to go to sleep.” I shiver and pull my sweater around my shoulders more tightly. “He spoke to me using telepathy.”
Dylan shakes his head as if in disbelief. “How? Any blood you shared should have left your system by now.”
I shrug. “He spoke to me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I was a very naughty girl.”
“That’s it?”
I nod. “It was enough to let me know he’s alive and remembers what happened…and knows I’m the one responsible.”
Dylan sits for a moment in silence, staring at his hands, which are folded in his lap. I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he tries to figure it all out.
“If he’s alive, we really are in the dark about what he is. He should have been killed by the nanovirus. He should have.” His hands fist and for a moment, I see him grind his teeth. He turns to me once more, his warm brown eyes full of concern. “You’re in danger, Eve. We must get you somewhere safe. I’m sure Michel and Julien will agree.”
“I don’t want to leave. I love it here,” I say, knowing that I’m being foolish, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to face reality just yet. “Beef up my security at the cottage.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re too vulnerable here. We can’t police the ocean. We can’t protect you from the sky here. You’ll have to go to a safe house somewhere in Boston.”
“I don’t want to go to Boston. It’s so…dismal there.”
I think of what has become of my beloved city due to the plague and general unrest. Buildings destroyed by fires no one can extinguish, whole blocks gone as the fires burn until they’re out of fuel. Stores looted. Roving bands of thugs stealing food, fuel, weapons—stealing women.
Vampires are attacking at night—the attacks sporadic for now, but still a threat. Other vampires are corralling humans and hauling them away in covered wagons to who knows what destiny—most likely to warehouses where their blood is harvested.
“This isn’t about what you want,” Dylan says, his voice low. “It’s about the future of humanity.”
“Don’t put that on me.” I shake my head, my body tensing at the thought. “It’s too much.”
“You know it’s true. You’re key to everything. We have no choice but to use you—Michel, Julien, and I—or Soren will. Blackstone will.”
I sigh, for I do know what he says is true. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He smiles ruefully. “I know. Believe me, I wish the two of us could live quiet lives here, but we can’t.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “Sometimes I wish I would have died instead of them saving me.”
“Don’t say that,” Dylan says, leaning closer, his expression hurt. “You don’t really mean that.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel.” I move away from him, angry that my brother sees me as just a tool as well and is willing to use me. I know that it’s true—that I am a tool—though I can’t help but wish that at least one of the men in my life would see me first and foremost as a woman they love and not as a means to an end.
* * *
Later that night, both Julien and Michel show up at the cottage.
“Eve.” Julien enters first. As usual, he looks devastatingly handsome in his leather bomber jacket, white t-shirt, and a deep blue scarf highlighting his blue-blue eyes. His hair is military-short and there’s a bit of scruff on his very square jaw. He has a sword in a scabbard on his hip and I know there’s a stake hidden somewhere on his body. He’s a warrior once more, a vampire killing vampires for the Council—whatever remains of it—staking them before beheading them with his incredible strength and exceptionally sharp blade.
He comes right over to me and for a moment, I want to embrace him, but I put my palms on his chest, stopping him, trying to be professional. Both Michel and Dylan are watching.
I can’t help but steal a glance at Michel and even from across the room, see the jealousy in his eyes. He’s dressed in a long black cassock coat, black jeans, and a black t-shirt. The black highlights his pale skin and piercing blue eyes. He’s not wearing a sword, but I can see the leather strap of a holster crossing his chest. A gold cross dangles around his neck. Dressed all in black like that, he could be a priest.
“Michel,” I say, and smile. Despite our recent week together, I feel a need to hold him as well, but instead, I deny myself. I promised to not show affection for one in front of the other and I intend to keep that promise.
“Eve, you have to come to Boston,” Julien says from across the room, drawing my attention from Michel, which I’m s
ure was his intent.
I’m determined not to be like Marguerite. I can’t show one brother affection and not the other.
How can I choose between them?
In this moment, I almost believe in God—a God who is punishing me for being greedy enough to want them both.
* * *
We go in the living room. For a moment, I don’t know where to sit, for I don’t want to show either brother any favoritism. I eye the chair across from the sofa and take it so I don’t have to choose. Michel sits on the sofa across from me, Dylan takes the chair beside mine, and Julien leans against the wall, his arms crossed.
I tell them about Soren invading my mind and Dylan describes the latest information he has on the break-in and deaths of the guards, and the escape or capture of Soren and the Twelve. Julien quizzes him, asking about the security measures that were in place and if there were any changes in the staffing or procedures, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Soren and the Twelve either all came out of stasis at the same time or Soren came out first and somehow found a way to take the others with him,” Dylan explains. “With limited electricity, we don’t have great surveillance. It's impossible to know exactly how the breakout happened. We only know it did. Regardless, we have to respond.”
Julien turns to me. "You're going to come to Boston with us and live in our safe house."
Michel nods in agreement. "With Soren free, it's only a matter of time before he comes for you."
“Michel’s right,” Dylan says. “Soren will come for you. He won’t be content to just torment you in your dreams. He'll want revenge.”
I sigh, resigned. “Where will I stay?”
Michel speaks, his voice soft. "You'll live with both of us in a reinforced building with 24-hour security. We have to be ready."
"Why don’t we go somewhere else?" I turn to Julien. "We could go to some small fishing village along the northern coast and hide out."
Julien shakes his head. "He'll know where you are as long as he can get in your mind. You shared blood with him and until the effects wear off, he can read you wherever you are."