by Mason, V. F.
My heart beats so strong in my chest when I finally see Arianna leaning on the fence, nervously tapping her foot and fumbling with her fingers. Her red hair blows in different directions from the light wind.
She smiles when her eyes land on me. She comes closer, whispering, “Eudard!”
Pleasure spreads through me, because she knows it’s me. It might mean nothing to people, but when you’re a twin… it means everything when someone can tell you apart. She is the one person I don’t want to ever confuse me with Eachann.
“Mommy said you wanted to meet me here,” she says nervously. I nod, extending my hands with the gift box, and she gasps. She clasps her hands together. “Is this for me?”
I nod again like I’m stupid, and she takes it from me, hugging it close and wanting to open it.
“Do it later,” I tell her. “Once I’m gone for the summer.” I want her to have this and remember us if someone tries to make her feel bad.
“Thank you.” She hugs me close. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. We will miss you,” I correct myself, because she’s the one thing in our life that’s consistent. Unlike Mommy and Daddy, her moods never change, and she is always there for us. Along with her parents, who always have kind words for us and home-baked cookies that fill my stomach like nothing else. “I’ll be back soon. You won’t even notice.”
“Promise?” she asks.
“Promise.”
I never kept that promise.
Because for the first time in her life… Mom had been right.
We were too pretty for the monster to resist, forever claiming us to his hell.
Eudard
When a splash of cold water hits my face, soaking my chest and pants, my eyes snap open in fury. I sit up on the couch and wipe away the liquid dripping from me, sending chills through my entire body because the AC running on max only highlights my wet state more.
Just like old fucking times. After all, no one has time to properly wash anyone else’s toys.
“What the fuck?” I bark, my eyes connecting with Santiago’s, who sits on the chair opposite me, holding a bucket of ice water if the rattling sound is anything to go by.
He grins, puts the bucket back on the floor, and then taps his finger on the diamond watch secured to his wrist. “You’ve been asleep for three hours, and truth be told, I’m bored out of my fucking mind.” He then picks up the knife on the table close to him and throws it at the wall on his right where there’s a huge photo of our shared enemy. He hits the image squarely in the forehead, where the knife protrudes firmly from the wall. “So I figured it’s better to wake you before she does.” He leans forward, lowering his voice to a whisper while his eyes widen. “Who knows what might have happened then?” He chuckles, popping a nut in his mouth while throwing yet another knife.
Blinking a few times from all the familiar pain piercing my head, it takes me a second to realize I’m in the house located right above my dungeon, the one that creates an illusion of a luxury property when, in fact, it hides the domain of my sadistic desires. “What happened?” The last thing I remembered was writing in my journal at my apartment, which means… “Eunan took over?” Even though I phrase it as a question, I know it’s true.
Only he has the power to strip my memories from me, making me wake up with a blank state of mind, wondering where the fuck he roamed.
Although, in the last ten years, I’ve always known exactly what he was doing and even created a calendar to trace it. He kept to his schedule precisely, so it was easy to plan my life accordingly, and in this, live without surprises.
Santiago’s brow rises and he pauses the knife midair. “Eunan? The fucker has a name?”
Anger slashes through me instantly. My eyes narrow and my voice is coated in fury. “Careful.” No one gets to insult him, even if he is in fact a little horror, just what his name means.
A little horror who came to the rescue in the most despicable time of my life.
“He told me he has no name, so I’m just surprised,” Santiago says breezily, although I know he is anything but if the flash of warning in his gaze is anything to go by.
Yeah, none of us reacts to insults or orders well. “He doesn’t go by a name, but I gave him one. I can’t call him him all the time.” Shaking my head, I get up and crack my neck from side to side. “Why the fuck are you here?” I thought we established that warnings don’t really work for me, so there must have been another reason for him to show up.
Santiago Cortez never does anything without a reason or calculation, preferring to watch conflict brew into an inferno from the outskirts and only interfere when it’s absolutely necessary.
Otherwise, he can broodily watch you destroy yourself and everything around you while drinking scotch and then laughing about you, commenting that he knew a fool once.
Yeah, Santiago has no mercy or compassion and doesn’t value those attributes in his friends or enemies either.
He pops another nut in his mouth, munching on it loudly while he studies me, as if thinking about how much he should tell me.
And that alone puts my senses on high alert, and without waiting for his reply, I walk quickly to the laptop located several feet away on the kitchen counter.
Opening it up, I type our password to take me to a special program that corresponds with the tracking device in my leg that allows me to see what Eunan does when the switches happen.
It shows me he only was inside the church for several hours straight and then drove the car here, nothing out of the ordinary, yet the nagging feeling in my head doesn’t go away, and I trust my instincts.
This church is nothing but the fucking devil’s playground. His eyes are scattered all over the walls and garden, feeding his sadistic desires to watch Eachann’s every move, which he enjoys immensely.
Or rather he enjoys the insanity he thinks hit me ten years ago, getting off on the idea he has so much power over me even after so many years.
His disappointment will be so much bigger once he finds out the truth.
“Why are you here?” I ask Santiago again, and this time my tone leaves no doubt that he better answer me right away or I’m going to lose my shit.
My alter ego might be a roaring beast, but I’m a madman, and they all better fucking remember that.
“Let’s make something perfectly clear. I’m no one’s bitch,” Santiago says coldly and gets up to face me too, slipping the knife through his fingers while a blank expression settles on his face, but I can detect the anger brewing underneath it.
With a flawless movement, he throws the knife at me so swiftly that lesser men might never have seen it coming, but not me.
Knife play was the very first of my lessons in the hell.
I catch it right before it hits my chest, trapping the silver between my palms, and then toss it in the air, wrapping my hands around the handle and stabbing it right into the table’s center with a loud thud.
A small smile pulls at the corner of Santiago’s mouth when he grabs his glass of scotch and raises it high, saluting me before taking a sip. “Fair enough,” he finally says and then points at me with the glass. “I had some business to attend in Micaden’s town,” he says casually, leaning on the top of the chair, but I don’t miss how his jaw twitches as if the fact itself annoys him.
And what kind of business does he have with him anyway? Last I checked, Santiago and he didn’t get along—as in they both pointed a gun at each other and threatened one another to never show up in each other’s town.
Which was so fucking hilarious, all things considered.
He must read the surprise on my face, because he warns, “Don’t.” And now my interest is piqued, because he doesn’t laugh it off but instead growls in annoyance.
Like he hates the fact that he had to go to his town to begin with.
Santiago has a secret he wants to keep, and isn’t that just great? The fucker was getting too cocky for his own good.
But ri
ght now, I’m more concerned about his presence here. “Still, I don’t understand how that connects with me.”
Ignoring my question, he continues, taking occasional sips from his glass—and the sipping sounds grate on my nerves. “I decided to pay you a visit too, because of the whole Lachlan situation.” He pauses the glass midway to his mouth and says, “He is royally pissed, by the way.” Then he gets back to the subject at hand. “Anyway, I didn’t find you at the usual place, so I suspected your alter ego was here. Imagine my surprise when I saw him at the church, talking to Cassandra.”
I still, my palms plastered on the table, while I rein in the desire for him to tell me the story quicker but dreading his next words at the same time.
My Cassandra was at the church? Why would she go to Eachann?
The all too familiar resentment hits me, reminding me of my teenage years where her eyes always searched for him in the hallway and avoided mine like the plague, only intensifying my need to lock her somewhere and stake my claim on her.
She never belonged to him. Didn’t she get over her crush when she slept with me?
Why then does she still seek him out… even now?
“I came right in time to see him choking her,” he informs me, and the shattering sound echoes in the room. It takes me a moment to realize I fisted the nearby glass so hard it broke in my hand.
Blood coats my skin, but I barely notice. Silent fury laces my tone as I ask, “Choked her?”
Santiago nods, resting his hands on the top of the chair. “Si. Leather belt wrapped around her neck and all.” He chuckles. “She sure as fuck was surprised.”
Santiago just sips his drink while fury unlike anything I’ve ever felt before washes over me like a wave, demanding vengeance for the hurt brought to my woman.
But what can I do if the man I need to punish lives inside me?
Why would he attack her anyway? He knows she is off-limits to our all-consuming hunger for blood and vengeance that became our reason for living.
Disgust joins the fury as Santiago continues to talk like we are discussing the fucking weather and not the fact that I almost killed my woman! “Then he dragged her outside and wanted to bring her here. I decided to assist so I could fill you in,” he says, coming closer to me, the glass shards on the floor crushing under his leather shoes. “At least she’s not dead,” he concludes as if that’s supposed to make me feel better.
“Where is she?”
He points at the floor, and coldness slips through me while I barely control the desire to punch him in the face. “You locked her in my dungeon?”
His brows rise at my voice, and anger crosses his face before he masks it with his usual amusement. “Eunan locked her in your dungeon”—he cocks his head to the side—“after he injected her with a sedative. So whatever you want to hash out, do it with him.” With that, he takes one last large sip, places his drink on the table where it rattles loudly, and walks toward the door. “I’d like to stay and see how it plays out, but oh well. Not really interested.” He opens the door wide, allowing the harsh wind to blow inside and whoosh over us, as he says over his shoulder right before shutting the door in my face, “I think he was pissed, because she kissed Eachann.”
For a second, the world around me vanishes while only a red haze remains, destroying all the good emotions inside me and leaving a rage so strong I can taste it.
She kissed him and awakened a monster inside me.
Who won’t rest until she is punished for her deeds, forever making her regret what she did.
There might have been three personalities flashing across my face.
Eudard, Eachann, Eunan.
But she only ever has been Eudard’s, and the time has come to remind everyone of that fact.
Otherwise, God help us both, because I’m barely holding on to a thin thread of sanity.
One more wrong move from her… and she will forever stay in the hell of my creation… with no way out. The golden cage I’ve prepared for her for years so my phoenix will never turn to ashes again.
Where darkness rules you, blood fills you, and screams of agony echo, reminding you of all the lost souls roaming around it.
Once upon a time, there was a devil and his bride.
His hell awaited her while she tried to hide.
He found her and trapped her inside.
Where she had no choice but to stay at his side.
Chapter Three
“My love became my deepest sorrow.
The knife of betrayal stabbing me with its razor edges.
So I shall close my heart from this agonizing pain.
Forever hating this monster’s reign.”
Eudard
Eudard, 6 years old
The car stops abruptly, snapping me from sleep, and I raise my head from the window, my eyes widening at the view in front of us.
Iron gates open with a loud rustle. Several security men nod at Bill, our driver, who proceeds inside to the beautiful green garden that surrounds the mansion I see in the distance, reminding me of all those books with fairy tales and magical beings.
A lot of flowering bushes are scattered all over the place. The cut grass sparkles under the light but the clouds gathering in the sky, ready to rain at any minute, give this place a rather scary look.
Eachann shifts toward me, pressing his hip to mine while we both share a look. The uneasiness running through me must reflect on my face, because he puts his hand in mine, squeezing it lightly. “It’s a scary place,” he whispers.
Bill hears him and frowns a little. “Don’t you worry, kiddo. It’s your uncle’s house where your grandfather is staying this summer.” That explains why we came here to him. Usually they drive us to the east coast, where we spend our days in his summer house. He reads stories to us, and his housekeeper cooks hamburgers and fries for us.
An… uncle? “What uncle?” Eachann asks, squeezing my hand harder, and it’s the only indication he is as unsure about this whole thing as I am.
No one ever mentioned any uncles.
Does Daddy know about him?
Bill nods, turning the car on the narrow concrete path that takes us deeper onto the property, where lots of oak trees are so huge we can probably hide behind them or between their leaves, and no one would know it. We also see several marble statues that look a lot like those figures in all the art books Mommy has in her library. “He is your mom’s older brother. He lives in Chicago, but he came this summer to spend time with your grandfather.” I open my mouth to question further, but he beats me to it. “Sir knows about it, of course. The change of plans happened yesterday.”
The memory of my mom coming into the room and crying next to us slams into me, and the air sticks in my lungs. I wrap a hand around my throat, even more unhappy at this turn of events.
Maybe that’s why Mommy was nervous about it.
“It’s okay, Eudard.” Eachann gives me a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “He must be nice if Grandpa is here.” Somehow, this knowledge doesn’t ease my worry.
We are almost at the house, and this time, I blink at the mansion, noticing the harsh-looking brick it’s made of and the massive double doors that have a chain around them with a lion on either side of them, as if guarding it.
Just like Cerberus.
Why this analogy pops into my head, I don’t know, but I squeeze Eachann’s hand so hard he winces a little but doesn’t let go. I think he needs my comfort as much as I need his in this moment.
A man emerges from the doorway, wearing a funny suit that has his jacket almost reaching his knees, and he comes down the stairs, his face twisted in a weird expression like he is smelling something bad.
He wears white gloves and quickly opens the door, pointing with his hand to the stairs. “Welcome.” Bill gives us an encouraging smile, motioning with his head for us to listen to this weird man. So we get out, still holding hands.
The man glances at us and something flashes in his eyes, but it goes
back to being unreadable when he greets us. “Hello, boys. Your grandfather is here,” he says strangely. His voice sounds a little rusty. Does he have a cold? “Your bags will be taken upstairs to the second room on the left.” We blink at this information but say nothing, and then he addresses Bill, who is now by the trunk, getting our things out. “I’ve already informed Mr. Campbell that they have arrived safely.”
Bill frowns at this. “How did you know?”
“The camera showed you had arrived. You may leave the bags here.” He points at the place beside us.
Now Bill looks unsure as he studies the man and then glances at us as if he doesn’t know what to do. I almost wish he will not let us stay here in this scary place, but his loyalty to Daddy must win, because he doesn’t go against his orders.
Instead, he kneels in front of us and opens his arms wide. “Come here, boys.” We do and he hugs us close, patting our backs. “Have fun this summer. I’ll be back soon to pick you up.” Although he says it every time he leaves us with Grandpa, the usual excitement we always experience is gone.
We watch him get back inside the car, roar the engine, and drive off to the gate, while we stay with the strange man who musters a smile for us, though it reminds me of a grimace.
“Let’s go. We don’t want to make your uncle wait, do we?” he asks, and for the first time I hear an emotion in his voice that I can easily guess.
Fear.
With a deep breath, I nod at Eachann who is still plastered to my side, and we follow the man, but the nagging in my head doesn’t go away.
But Daddy wouldn’t have sent us here if it wasn’t safe, right?
We quickly go up the stairs, hopping a few at a time, and enter an area where a funny scent tickles my nose. Eachann winces, murmuring, “Like in the hospital.” Right, it reminds me of those antiseptics Matilda uses on us when we scratch our knees.
We gasp when we see several statues in the hallway of animals similar to the ones by the door, each one of them with big teeth as if ready to jump and bite us at any moment. Their eyes seem so real. I hug Eachann close, not trusting that it won’t come alive and eat us.
