Eva heaved an exhausted sigh. He watched her as she schooled her features into a relaxed expression, the frustration easing as she rolled her shoulders. Lucien remained as he was, hesitantly scanning the room and covertly admiring the outline of her voluptuous figure. Although his baser sensations and life had vanished, he retained the ability to appreciate the finer things in life, and the finer things stood before him.
She was such a beautiful woman.
Oh, his mind mused in thick tones, there wasn't any denying Evangeline was so much more. She was the essence of softness, ethereal in the shimmering glow of unnatural and illuminating light radiating from her. He knew he might possibly live a thousand years and never tire of gazing at her.
He attempted to shake the sensations of mind numbing need away by walking to the computer. The glow of the screen reflected his features as he eyed the information she had been viewing. To his surprise, Eva followed him, halting at his side.
Lucien drew himself upright, expecting her to suffer the feeling many experienced in his company. She should have trembled with unexplainable fear and suffered a sense of vertigo. She should have gasped for breath and skittered away, seeking safety.
She didn’t and he was at a loss. He felt human warmth flow from her, a heat he hadn’t experienced in ages. Unable to speak, his mind went delightfully blank.
For once, he felt peace.
…about time you cut the hair�
Lucien turned toward the image, aware the normal sepia tones in which he was accustomed, had faded. There was a dim whiteness radiating from the ghost, growing with each passing moment.
“Changing time’s call for adaptation,”� Lucien responded, startling Eva with the words.
�…don't look like a damned hippie, anymore�
“You talk too much.” �
�…sorry, ain't got anything else to do, sort of limited�
“I suggest you follow your sister's advice,” he couldn’t prevent his growl. “Shut up, Keegan.” �
Lucien turned to the computer. His focus remained captured by the details on the screen, his shoulders sagging beneath the heaviness of his trench coat. She frowned, staring at him, her mind whirling.
“I couldn't resist checking out what you told me,”� Eva supplied, still captivated by his profile as a sensation of breathlessness overtook her.
“I had expected as much.” �
“Your D'Angel the Destroyer, the Daemon of St. Lorraine, wasn't a pleasant person.” �
“I think you’ve uttered the understatement of millennium,” disgust flashed in his face. “My sire’s reputation was well earned.” �
“Is it true he razed entire towns?” �
He shook his head, his expression pained. Heaviness settled over him as he recalled the many battles boasted of within the castle walls, the tales of gore, rape, and pillaging recounted. As a child, he’d been sickened by the stories, their boasts haunting him with nightmares.
“He burnt villages to the ground, and murdered every man, woman and child that crossed his path.” �
“Oh.” �
“Four centuries of infamy can never be altered,” he responded morosely.
“It appears he ranks right in there with some of the most reviled despots in the world.” �
She leaned across him and used the tip of an impatient finger to scroll down the computer page. Lucien didn't need to look at the copies of the woodcuttings representing the atrocities D'Angel the Destroyer committed. Eva paused as she arrived at a portrait, commissioned when Lucien had been a child.
“I don't know what to think anymore,” she stared blankly at the screen. Her eyes flicked over the image and the man, standing by her side, was the smaller youngster in the portrait. He appeared to have been a sickly child, far slighter than the brother towering by his side has.
“I do understand my tale’s one you would consider unbelievable,”� he muttered, turning away, and staring blankly at the chestnut highlights of her bound hair. “I imagine your journalistic nature made you seek answers.” �
“The nosey side took over, I’ll admit.” She smoothed her features, blissfully unaware of the chilling coldness seeping from his pale flesh. “Still, I have a lot of unanswered questions.”
“Such as?”
“Who, what, where, when, and why?” �
“I beg your pardon?” �
…you're in for it now�
“I need to know who, what, where, when and why?” She repeated, ticking the words off on her fingertips. “Those are the five words every journalist uses when researching a potential story.” �
…told you�
He nodded, not to anyone in particular, biting back the words threatening to spill from him.
“Besides, I’m curious, and Reese refuses to shut the hell up. He keeps telling me objectivity is my job.” She grumbled tersely and jerked her head at the spirit hovering across the room. “Despite how much you and that damn hand of yours frighten me; he insists I ask questions.” �
“I didn't mean to frighten you.” �
...nah, you think.
She shrugged at the sarcastically enunciated comment and forced a laugh. Eva crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. She blinked rapidly, and seemed to be forming her own questions. Her actions, though, led him into a world where he couldn't manage a coherent thought, his gaze settling on the delicious outline of her ample breasts.
“I've done my research.” �
“And?” �
“I imagine you're Lucien D'Angel,” she supplied, her voice firm as her eyes slid back to the computer screen.
“Why?”
“I haven't any choice. As you said yourself, the story is too fantastic. The painting wouldn't lie and your hand…” she left the sentence unfinished, though Lucien understood. The palm of his hand was the proverbial icing on the cake, and reassured her he spoke the truth.
“My sire wasn't pleased with the portrait," he grumbled, more to himself. “He had the unfortunate artist drawn and quartered before the castle’s population.” �
“Tell me your story, Lucien.” �
The request held an unavoidable edge, and he understood a part of her wanted to know the truth. There was, also, the far saner side that didn’t want the disgusting details.
“I fear you’ll bolt in horror.” �
“Been there, done that,” she responded sarcastically, her breath a soft cloud of steam in the freezing room. “Unfortunately, the reporter in me prevents me from running away, screaming like I want to do.”
…pull up a chair, it's gonna be a long night�
Lucien managed a thready chuckle, the effort strained. “Your brother has accomplished much these past few days.” �
“Well,” �Eva granted him a grimace laced with embarrassment. She didn't turn toward the image that remained diligently nearby, albeit hovering, in a distant corner of the room. “I had a lot to consider, and he was in the way.”
…I can be a real pain
“I can't bear your fear,” he murmured apologetically.�
…she's stronger than she looks�
“You dumped a hand with a glowing palm on me the same night you showed me a spirit tailing my every step. I suppose most people wouldn't think too clearly.” �
There was a wry twist to his lips while he considered her statement, followed by the heavy chuckle that escaped her brother. They were both correct. Spirit images were a normally an unaccepted sight, even to the most understanding person, and his palm held a gruesomeness of its own.
“My existence is a difficult story.” �
“Tell me, Lucien,” she pleaded.�
“Do you truly wish to know, to understand?” �
…she doesn't have a choice now, does she? �
She shrugged, her arms falling to her sides as she neared him. He frowned, confounded by her nearness. They stood side-by-side, the top of her head close to his shoul
der, her gaze wary, fear nonexistent in her overcurious gaze.
He wished he felt the same. The proximity of her warm flesh was tantalizing and mind numbing, sending a frisson of apprehension shooting through him.
“I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know.” She shrugged at an attempt of lighthearted humor. “Who knows? This has the makings of a potential bestseller. It may rival the popularity of your books.”
“My life is not something to write about, Evangeline.” He muttered. “I would prefer if you kept my secret that, a secret.”
“I’m not going to let the world know about you.” She grumbled in return. “If I did, I think I’d be locked up in the local loony bin.”
He made a sound deep in his throat, amused by her statement. Reluctantly, he began to speak. “I did tell you the basics.”
“Basics, yeah,”� she frowned as she scanned his face. “You neglected to tell me you had a twin brother named Julian.” �
Lucien gave her a cryptic smile. “We are only twins because we entered the world on the same fateful night, having shared the same womb.”
He moved away from the computer. Words appeared difficult, and thoughts ran in a jumbled mess through his mind. The events of the past were difficult to tell, for he had held every moment turned within his mind for as long as he could recall.
….sometimes, you don't need enemies. You have them in your own family�
Lucien pulled his hands from his pockets, the action slow and purposeful. Using a single finger, he pointed at the sofa. Eva reddened, her startled and apprehensive gaze flying fearfully to his gloved hands, before she breathed a long sigh of immense gratitude. It was obvious the gloves softened the intensity of the blow of his hand, for she didn't have to look on the marking of his shame.
…should have stuck around to give her manners�
Her lips tightened. Lucien moved across the room and sunk appreciatively into the brocade upholstery of her sofa. She remained where she stood, and didn't realize the computer screen accentuated the gentle glow radiating from her.
“What I have to tell you hasn’t been recounted in centuries.” �
“I do love a good story,” she attempted with marked levity.
“You would.” He made an effort to glower and failed miserably.
“Amuse me, Lucien D'Angel.” She laughed at the sound of his name and shrugged. “I did some research, and some serious puzzling, and found your acronym is obvious.” �
“Acronym?” �
“The North American Department of Ghostly Experience League,” the corner of her mouth twitched as she recited the name of his paranormal team. “Your team is known as NADGEL, which is D’Angel tumbled about, I guess?” �
�…ah, stuck up as well as any celebrity�
“We are all entitled to small vanities.” �
His attention drifted to the scattered assortment of DVDs littering the coffee table and the copies of his books, the pages conspicuously marked with brightly colored florescent note tags.
Obviously, she’d done her research.
“As you already understand, we're twins,” he began, his focus drifting back to her. “Although, on general review, our similarities wouldn’t be recognized, since I was the frailest of the pair.” �
“I did notice that much from your painting.” �
…the artwork sucks�
Lucien was beginning to understand Eva's frustration with Reese's incessant chatter.
“Julian had the stature of my father. He was tall and broad shoulder, always in good health. I was otherwise, consistently suffering from one ailment or another.” All expression faded from his features as he began his tale. “I spent many a week confined to a sick room, near death, unable to breathe. Julian was my sole companion, besides my mother, since my sire abhorred weakness. To this day, I assume she concealed my ailments, saving my life. He wouldn't have held qualms about the weakest heir suffering an unfortunate accident.” �
“Oh, my,”� she breathed, her face strangely serious.
“My death wouldn't have been of much concern. It was a common practice of the era, although unspoken.” He leaned back into the worn sofa, his expression exhausted. “Tell me, how many castles have been renovated in the last one hundred years, where the bones of children were discovered in a well or under the stairs?”
Eva nervously echoed the movement he often executed, rocking on the heel of her slippers. The whiteness of her knuckles was obvious as she clenched her hands into fists, and Reese’s incessant prattling conspicuously stilled.
“My mother I trusted with my life.” He wearily closed his eyes as the image of the frail woman invaded. She’d been old before her time, broken and scarred by years of abuse. “Of my brother, I had supposed the same, only to be proven otherwise.” �
“Why?” �
“Julian would come to amuse me with lively tales of battles, and the oddities he encountered in a world I barely knew. One night, he asked if I had the ability to identify the others roaming the castle.” �
“As by others, I can assume the spirits?” �
Lucien nodded. “I, in my foolishness, revealed we shared the same power. We would regale each other of the various forms lurking in the bailey and towers. The halls were filled with the images of an old king, knights, women, and children. There were so many, and they crowded the living world far more than the humans.” �
�…stuck your foot in it, didn't you? �
“Reese!” Lucien scowled warningly and the spirit shrugged, mock humility evident in his shimmering features.
For the next hour, he held her riveted with the tale. The words unfolded a story that brought vivid imagery to mind, of an old woman, and a fateful curse. After reading the horrible atrocities D'Angel the Destroyer inflicted on his enemies, Eva hadn't any difficulty in imagining the woman's fate.
“This is all too incredible.” She murmured when he finished, her thoughts pensive. The room temperature, despite the heater, dropped perceptibly and Eva's arms went about her body. “When did you assume the story bore some truth?” �
“I heard the account from her lips, for the old woman's death had been recounted to her by an unfortunate knight in my father's forces.” He supplied, his gloved hands resting on his knees and he leant forward. “It was taboo to amuse the heirs of the monarch with such tales. To do so, would have been labeled dissension.” �
“Excuse me?” �
“It would mean the end of your life. My sire never delivered an idle threat, and death would have been immediate.” �
…sort of an unfinished legend. Those boys who wrote the fairy tales should have gotten their hands on it�
“They did,” Lucien’s expression remained shuttered. “The tale was deemed a bit too macabre.” �
…have you read the unedited crap? �
Lucien chose to ignore the question. Reese was opinionated and highly inquisitive, as well as very vocal. As for the normal intelligent haunting Lucien encountered, Reese's capabilities bordered on the extraordinary.
“I gather you had a pretty lonely childhood.” Eva’s hand waved, as if she was attempting to stress the words.
“I assumed my brother and I were close. We had solely each other, for there weren’t any other children with whom we associated. The peasant children were sickly, and wasting away.” � “Is Julian cursed, as well? �
“Julian and I suffer from the same curse, although in varying degrees.” Lucien sighed, his shoulders slumping. “His power and his compassion were a farce, meant to bring my demise.”
“What happened between the two of you? What changed your perception of your brother?” �
“Julian was his favorite. I was young and eager for my father's admiration, and sheltered from the horrors of his actions. When I was in good health, Julian persuaded me to tell father of my visions.” �
“You sought him out?” �
“I was fervent and foolish, and craved his ap
proval. My brother was his shining star, the heir apparent.” Hurt was evident in his confession. “I never questioned the motivation behind Julian's actions. I wanted him to know of the spirits, and I was proud. Incorrectly and regrettably, I imagined the admission would garner me acceptance.” �
The memories rolled into the forefront of his mind, the forgotten pain a dull ache of betrayal.
“My brother followed me, urging me on. I didn't find it peculiar that he left me at the entryway to the throne room. My father was seated before a roaring fire, surrounded by his most loyal knights. My heart had been in my throat. Ah, how eager I had been!” He paused, his expression morose. “I fell to my knees. Eagerly, as a child would do, I babbled wildly about my power." He gathered a steadying breath. "It was the first time I witnessed true and absolute fear. He was frightened, an experience D'Angel the Destroyer didn't appreciate.”
“He was frightened of a child?” �
“You must understand the witch of St. Lucien refused to grant him her power. Moments before he struck her down, the woman delivered the curse.” Lucien pushed further back into the sofa, running his hands through his hair in agitation “Julian and I received a summation of her powers. We lacked the ability to foretell the future, as my father had desired, but it didn't matter.” �
“I don't think he was frightened.” �
…far from it, entirely against his chemical make-up�
Eva paced nearer to Lucien's seated figure. She pushed the odd assortment of magazines, books, and DVDs aside, and sat on the coffee table. A faint hissing sound filled her ears, followed by the rumbling intonation that had become more familiar over the past few days. She ignored the sound, shooting a disgusted frown across the room.
…not safe, little girl, back up! �
Eva turned toward Lucien, her ponytail swinging with the action. Lucien blinked, blinded. The glow of nighttime stars shimmered in her hair, filling the dark room with a dreamlike sense of luminosity. The light surrounding her increased, beaming in ribbon-like streams from her fingertips, and glistening like raindrops in the loose tendrils. She didn't seem aware of the change overtaking her, blissfully ignorant of the radiance seeping from her every pore.
The Soul Collector Page 10