Symphony of Light and Winter

by Renea Mason

  I watched Overton for a moment before I got up in search of some cereal. He followed my every movement.

  “I guess I should figure out where you keep the cereal since I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

  The look of joy on his face met my scowl.

  “So, you are going to stay? What did he do to convince you?” He grinned.

  He probably thought Cyril’s performance was a motivator when I was the real actress. “He didn’t convince me. He had you bring all my stuff here and I found out I don’t have an apartment. So, I don’t really have a choice now, do I?” There was probably more venom in my voice than I felt.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re staying. It’s the best way to keep you safe. You really don’t have any idea what Myghal is capable of.” He moved from the stove and reached above my head, opened the door, and handed me a box of Special K.

  “I’m sorry it’s all we have, but I can add whatever you like to the list. I can also make you something if you’d like,” he said and turned to toss his egg on his plate.

  “No, this is fine.” Before I could think, he was beside me with a bowl and milk. He grabbed the cereal from my hand and in a showy display, poured in the cereal and milk at the same time. He retrieved a spoon from the drawer and handed it to me in a way a man might offer a woman a flower.

  I made my way back to the stool and he sat beside me, staring at me.

  “So what really happened to the housekeeper? I didn’t figure you for the fend-for-yourself kind of guy,” I said and gathered a spoonful of cereal.

  “I’m not. But she didn’t take too well to you being locked in the room. I also heard you weren’t exactly hospitable.” He chuckled.

  “I was hospitable…for the most part,” I shot back. “What is her story anyway?”

  He held up a finger to indicate he was still chewing, swallowed, and said, “ About twenty years ago, Cyril was investigating reports that Vidius found a way to turn people into some kind of undead soldiers. We traveled to Eastern Europe to the location we received in the reports and found the accusations false. We did, however, find that he’d taken a young girl as his personal slave. No murderous zombies, but the girl was a big issue. He had cut out her tongue so that she could not speak of his existence to anyone. Cyril freed her, but with no real skills and with the fact that Vidius would surely be pissed when he found out, Cyril offered her protection. He paid her well and provided for her, and in return she did various chores for us. She had been with us until last week. She’s still with us in a way.”

  I raised an eyebrow. She probably had three last names by now.

  He caught my skeptical look and corrected me. “No, not that. She is still one hundred percent the same. She went to stay with Moreaux.”

  “Moreaux?”

  “Yes, Moreaux LeFevre Machaut. You have not met him. He’s… How shall I say it? Not so accepting of our existence. He blames Cyril for every misfortune and typically doesn’t stay with us. He spends most of his time in France. He doesn’t like change. When we need the extra manpower, he’ll help, but otherwise prefers to live by himself.”

  “Do the rest of you live here?”

  “From time to time, but we do prefer to stay together for the company. It’s hard to make friends when you can’t really share a large portion of your life. With Myghal’s latest antics we stay for safety as well, but we have many residences all over the world.

  “When was Moreaux…created?” I corrected myself before I said born.

  “I can’t remember exactly but sometime in the fourteenth century.”

  “So you are the oldest, besides Cyril, of course?”

  He nodded and continued. “Cyril was staying in France to strengthen his relationship with the king. He found one of the easiest ways to bewitch kings was to share his patronage of the arts. This served Cyril well because he had always been fascinated by the energy released through creativity. He secured the services of a prominent young composer.”

  No wonder he was so good at music. He had literally forever to practice.

  “As you probably know the Black Death ravaged Europe. The king, the composer, and Cyril’s squire were all exposed to the bloody illness during the harvest festival at the castle. Cyril of course would not succumb to the disease and I’m sure you know what happened next.”

  “Yeah, he made a combo meal. I don’t get it; if they were going to die, why is Moreaux pissed?”

  “The best I can guess is that one of them had a negative view on life and it carried over. The plague moved quickly and Cyril was forced to act without his usual careful evaluation.”

  “Yeah, those musicians are moody bastards,” I said as I half laughed.

  Overton chuckled.

  “But you get your dominant traits from the priest, right?”

  “Yes. You know it’s odd to have convictions, but not all the memories to support them. A lot like how people describe carrying things from one life to another. No explanations, but strong feelings. Why do people fear spiders when they’ve never been bitten by one? My life has a lot of irrational convictions. The priest is strong in me. I find myself abstaining from things I have no moral objection to but can’t overcome the feeling it is somehow wrong.”

  “Such as?”

  He lowered his head and for the first time stopped looking at me.

  “Overton? What is it?”

  He ran his fork over his plate mindlessly then spoke softly, slightly above a whisper. “Take sins of the flesh, for example. I have no moral objection to consenting adults giving and receiving pleasure from one another, nor do I think God objects as long as no one is harmed, but for myself, I’ve never been able to do it. Not that I’m physically incapable; my conscience won’t allow it. It just feels wrong…well, at least it did.”

  That wasn’t where I expected my question to go. I so didn’t want to have this conversation with him now.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, not really.” I knew what he meant. There was safety in not addressing it.

  “It seems I should at least offer you an apology.” He took a bite of egg.

  I just wanted to eat my cereal and go to work, but I responded anyway. “Overton, there is nothing to apologize for.”

  “Sure there is. If you only knew all of the unsavory thoughts that crossed my mind about you in that moment, you’d kill me and so would Cyril.”

  “What?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why was he telling me this? I shook my head in denial at his words while mindlessly chewing my cereal.

  “I went to confession, hoping that would help. I even told Cyril, hoping he’d be able to stop…this…whatever it is I’m feeling.”

  “What did Cyril say?”

  “He was angry. He warned me to not cross the line. I won’t, Linden; you don’t need to worry.”

  It hit me. That stupid son of a bitch! How can one person be so superhuman and so fucking stupid at the same time?

  “Just out of curiosity, Overton, when did you start feeling this attraction for me?” I took another spoonful and tried to hide the pissed-off tone in my voice as I stared at the counter.

  “I guess it was at the winter gala.”

  “So, the first time we met.”

  “Yes.”

  I kept chewing, paused for a moment and with no enthusiasm said, “That’s what I thought.” More chewing.

  He raised an eyebrow and stared at me.

  “What?” I said with my mouth full, and gestured with my spoon.

  “I’m wondering what you think is going on. I’m curious to know your theories because I’m a very disciplined man, Linden, and my thoughts do not drift easily, but for some reason I can’t seem to focus when I’m around you. I am so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. So you can relax; the attraction isn’t genuine, so no broken oaths and all that.” I threw down my spoon. “That fucking dumbass!”

  “Linden?”

  “Overton, I think when
Cyril cast the spell to bind us, which had the side effect of making him…rather…lustful toward me, I think it affected you as well, since you have his essence. He never thinks things through.”

  “That’s why he needs you.”

  I laughed. “Fuck that! I’m going back to my life. If I have to live here then so be it, but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to wander around cleaning up his supernatural bullshit.”

  “Linden, you can’t be serious. You are everything to him.”

  “Wait, you just sat here and told me you can barely keep your hands off me and you’re pleading his case?”

  “Yes. Not that I don’t want you, but I don’t even know if I could go through with it. I know I shouldn’t want you and moreover I know I can’t have you so it all makes sense.”

  “Ha, nothing makes sense.”

  I finished my cereal and was about to stand when in walked another “family” member and by the looks of it, this family didn’t lack for treasure.

  “Rhys, what are you doing? There is a lady present.” Overton chastised the newcomer.

  I had seen the man briefly in the foyer the night I slipped down the stairs, but his lack of clothing gave me a whole new appreciation.

  “Nice to see you… I mean meet you, Rhys.” I flashed him a big smile.

  Rhys was a sight to behold—black hair, bronzed skin, black tattoos in various locations all over his body begging to be appreciated. His muscular frame was more bulky than Overton’s. Rhys was more the bodybuilder type, excessively defined, but it was impossible to compare him to Cyril. Cyril was more like the subject of a fantasy drawing rather than of an actual man. His family was definitely earthy but the finest specimens I had ever seen.

  “Rhys!” Overton scolded him again.

  “I’m so sorry.” He tried to cover himself with one hand, which was completely pointless. Rhys stood at full attention and there was a lot to him. Given human standards, the man was gifted. With his other hand he pulled out a stool and sat down on his naked ass.

  I grinned because he obviously wasn’t embarrassed. My amusement at Overton’s appalled reaction made me chuckle.

  “Rhys, I think you need to apologize to Linden,” Overton barked.

  “For what?” I countered.

  “For not seeing to your delicate sensibilities.”

  I laughed so hard I snorted. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Overton. I appreciate the scenery.”

  Rhys grinned and I continued chuckling under my breath.

  “Rhys, would you like some cereal? I’ll get it for you because I think if you stand up, my buddy here might pop a gasket.” I nodded toward Overton.

  Overton gave me a searing look.

  Rhys paused and flashed a sly grin at Overton. “Sure, that would be nice.”

  Thanks to Cyril and all his lessons in nudity tolerance, Rhys barely fazed me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate his assets. With Cyril’s propensity for picking delicious-looking men for his family, I had to wonder if he wasn’t gay or at least bisexual. Where did he find the base material to make these guys?

  “Looks like it’s a Special K kind day for you, buddy.” I placed the bowl and spoon in front of him and reached for the box.

  “Sweetheart, I’ll have anything you’re serving,” Rhys said in a seductive, deep, Spanish-accented voice and gave me a flirtatious wink.

  Overton scoffed.

  “Careful there, hotness, or the priest might send you to confession. I’m sure you’re in the top ten on someone’s naughty list. Aren’t you?”

  “You know it.” He laughed.

  “Overton, you’re still my favorite,” I said in an overly dramatic patronizing way, and kissed him on the cheek.

  He smiled, but it barely masked his scowl.

  Voices drifted in from the hall. As I turned to place the box back on the counter, three more beyond gorgeous men made their way through the door.

  They stopped as soon as they saw me. I held up the box. “Special K, anyone?”

  Two of them laughed. The third looked like he wanted to kill me.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” He had long, wheat-colored hair and a fierce expression as he pushed past me.

  I heard Overton and several others start to correct him, but I interrupted.

  “I live here, sunshine. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr.…?” I extended my hand.

  “Don’t touch me. Ever! Do you hear me?” he growled. He stepped away from me and made his way to the farthest side of the kitchen.

  I watched his red pajama pants ripple with each flex of his toned ass as he strode away. Was it getting hot in here?

  Normally, the surly man’s behavior would upset me, but yet another gift Cyril had bestowed on me—tolerance for assholes.

  Overton made his way to me and placed his arm around my shoulders, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Sinclair isn’t always such an ass, but remember the problem we spoke of earlier? He has the same…symptoms. The only difference is I’ve spent many lifetimes controlling my urges and Sinclair is a little less restrained. Don’t worry; he knows better, but you being here complicates things.”

  I whispered back, “But this is the first time I’ve met him.”

  “It’s your proximity.” He whispered directly into my ear and his hot breath tickled, making me shiver. I needed a distraction.

  “Is that coffee I smell?” I looked for the source of the pleasant aroma.

  I turned around to find another beautiful pajama-bottom-clad man staring at the coffee machine.

  I smiled at him as he looked up.

  He handed me a cup and lowered his eyes. “I’m not sure how you like it.”

  It was cute the way he wouldn’t hold my gaze. It didn’t escape my notice that Overton stood so close he touched me.

  “It’s perfect. I like it black.” I smiled at the beautiful blond-haired man. His coloring and physique reminded me of Michael, but he didn’t seem to have the same level of confidence. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m Linden, and you are…” I said, holding out my hand. He sheepishly accepted it and gave me the most bewildered look.

  “Thoresen. But most call me Thor.” He stared deep into my eyes for the first time.

  “Do you like being called Thor?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I suppose I do, but no one has ever asked me before. Thank you.”

  There was something innocent and boyish about Thor, a direct contrast to his name and physique.

  I returned his gaze with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Thor.” I tried to remove my hand from his, but it took some effort. He wouldn’t let go.

  Again Overton came to my rescue. He pulled my hand free from Thor’s grip and steered me and my coffee back to the counter. He placed himself between me and the other men.

  The last man in the room said nothing. He acted as though I didn’t exist. I started toward the unknown man who had a sharp, angled nose and strong jaw just as Overton grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

  In a moment, his mouth was at my ear again and he whispered, “That’s Scarlatti. Well, he goes by Dominic these days. He’s not very social. He’s beyond intelligent and a bloody good fighter.”

  “Is he having the same—”

  “We all are, to some degree or another, but if there is any risk of someone slipping up, it’s him. Just stay here with me.”

  “Fabulous. Let me finish my coffee and I’ll be off to work and leave you fine gentlemen alone.”

  I was amazed at how much the morning felt like working an event. I had to be a different person with each of them. It wasn’t until that moment I realized even though Cyril brought out the worst in me most times, I was always me with him. There was no mask, no pretending. I tried not to dwell on the fact that many of the things I had started to hate Cyril for actually helped me. Was it possible he wasn’t the supernatural manifestation of Murphy’s Law after all?

  Nobody spoke for the longest time. It was extremely quiet for a room full
of people, the tension thick. I found the silence bothersome, and with both of my hands clasped around my cup, I started to hum.

  I was about three stanzas in when someone chuckled under his breath behind me. A few more stanzas and it became a full-on fest of subdued snorts and gurgles. Overton glared at me. He seemed to be the only one in the room not amused. Even Dominic and Sinclair cracked a smile. Of course I knew why, but it was so much more fun to play dumb. I was even more amazed these brutes knew their musical theater. Nice!

  I continued to hum and Overton tapped his fingers on the table. “Are you humming ‘A Little Priest’ from Sweeney Todd?”

  I feigned innocence. “Oh, I guess I am.” I shot him a grin that screamed I’m too cute for you to be mad at me.

  My amusement was interrupted by the absolute last thing I needed. Cyril. As if being in a room with a bunch of men who wanted me but didn’t know why and hated me for it wasn’t bad enough. In his black custom suit, he radiated power. He pulled at his cuff links as he stopped to survey the room.

  Instead of trying to make my escape, I seized an opportunity to antagonize him. I was really starting to enjoy tormenting him.

  “Good morning, Grim, it is nice of you to join us.”

  “Grim. Ha! She called him Grim.” Rhys clapped his hands as he laughed.

  Cyril didn’t acknowledge me or Rhys’s comment. He stood there for a very long time and looked around the room at each man. Nobody met his gaze but me. Cyril’s fists clenched at his side, jaw tight, and face furious.

  “I warned all of you,” he addressed the room. He didn’t growl but rather wrapped his words with a subtle menace.

  “Leave them alone. You know this is entirely your fault. If you would just think things through, you’d stop fucking everything up. I do have to say, of all your fuckups, this one is certainly the most impressive and entertaining from my perspective.” I winked at Overton, who managed to glare at me even with his head practically bowed. Why were they so fucking subservient to him?

  The next thing I knew, I was yanked from my seat and hoisted onto the counter. Cyril grabbed my ass and pulled me to the edge, forced my legs open, and stepped between them. He wrapped his arms around me and placed his head against mine. It wasn’t his voice I heard but rather his mind. It felt like when I talked to myself but somehow I knew it was him. Strange, he had tone and inflection while communicating.