by Amo Jones
He shakes his head again. “Person is you, Madison.”
Wait.
I squeeze the keys in my hand. “Me?”
He nods. “Etiam.”
“But you only just met me.”
His eyes glare into mine, the stare so strong I almost flinch at the electricity that passes between us. “You think this first time we’ve met?”
A long stretch of silence passes through us as I look from one eye to the other. “I… I—” But even as I’m about to say it, I know I do remember. “I—yes? I don’t know, Damon!” Feeling myself getting frustrated at all the mystery, I blow out a whoosh of air. “Tell me.”
He grips my arm again and starts tugging me toward the parking lot. “Come.”
I follow, noticing how his grip loosens as we get closer to my car, like he knows I’m safer the closer I get. “Open.” He gestures toward the SUV, and I obey, beeping it unlocked as we both slip inside. I toss my bag to the back and shut my door, the enclosed space feeling safer to talk now.
“You gotta give me something here, Damon. What is Venari? What does that mean? I haven’t heard that word since—”
“Lucan,” he finishes for me, and I flinch, my heart crushing in my chest at someone else saying that name.
“How?” I ask, fighting the tears, fighting the memories. I feel the dark murky fog rising inside of me, slowly seeping into my inner peace, and threatening to shatter every single thing I worked hard for over the years.
Damon looks at me. “I’m Lost Boy.”
“A what?” That had nothing to do with what I asked, but I know his English isn’t very good, so I go with it.
“Lost Boy. How much book have you seen?” he asks, the words jumbled, but again, I understand what he’s trying to ask.
“I’m up to 11 I think.”
His jaw tenses. “You have far to go.”
“Like, how far?” I know how thick the book is, but I was sort of hoping it wasn’t that long.
“Final page 66/6.”
“Well, that’s poetic. The mark of the beast, just great.”
Damon looks to me, his features frozen. “Sixty-six chapters, six pages in final.”
“Did she mean to do that?” I ask.
“No,” he shakes his head, “she not. You learn about Lost Boys soon. I am them.”
“Okay.” I look around the car. “But how do you know so much about me?”
“I just do. We all do. But I know the most.”
“Why?” I ask, needing to know more information. “Why do you know the most? Why do I feel a connection to you I’ve never felt before? Why is it that I trust you even though I trust barely anyone?”
He looks at me. “You are my sister. I’m your twin.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?” I SHOOT up in my chair, hitting my head on the top of the ceiling. “No… no, that makes no sense at all, because my mom and dad would have told me. And that makes no sense because that would mean you would be a King, but you’re not. You’re a lost boy, and you’re here, living this…” I look outside. “…weird-as-fuck life, and my mom and dad are actually good people. I mean, I’d like to think they’re good people and they would never leave you to be living this life and—what the fuck?” I repeat after my freak out. “Okay.”
Breath in and out. Slow intakes of breath.
One.
Two.
Three.
I look at him, but his face is still the same. He’s watching me in fascination, like I’m a foreign object he wants to learn about. “Don’t do that,” I murmur, suddenly realizing how uncomfortable it’s making me now, because it’s as though he can read my thoughts.
“I can.” He nods.
“What?” I snap. I swear to God, if this turns all supernatural-y, I will demand that Dean Winchester roar into my life in his fucking muscle car and sweep me off my feet, or I’m done.
“I read what you think, but not because I read mind. Because I read your expressions. You need to control them.”
“My expressions are fine the way they are.”
“Fine?” he asks, confused with the word.
Oh, sweet mother of God. I came here to relax, and instead, I’ve been thrown into a pool of more questions. Finally calming my breathing enough to ponder his revelation, I turn in my seat. “If that’s true, and you are my brother, my twin brother—”
“It’s true. I do not lie, Madison.”
“Let me finish.” The way he cuts into my conversation has me thinking he’s obviously my brother.
“Why? Why are you here? Why did Mom and Dad not tell me about you?”
“Those are questions I not answer. Not me. Not now. Another time. You must go.”
“No!” I yell, just as his hand touches the door handle. “You can’t drop a bomb like that and leave! What is this place?” I look up to the ranch and then back to him. His eyes are sad as he looks back to me.
“Hell.”
“Who else lives here?” I ask, pressing with more questions and wanting him to bleed out more answers.
“Katsia and Lost Boys.”
“Katsia is your boss?”
He shakes his head. “Katsia owns Lost Boys.”
He goes to open the door again, and I stop him. “What? This is obviously not the same Katsia as the one in the book.” Again, I remind myself about my earlier statement of Dean Winchester.
He looks back at me, confused. “Never mind. But is she good or is she bad?” Though I already know the answer to this, I just need clarification. I’ve been wrong in the past.
“Malus,” he whispers, finally getting out of the car. I inch up off my seat, reaching for my phone in my back pocket, and switch it on. Malus? This fucking language is going to kill me one day. Typing Malus into google translate, the word Bad comes up in the little white box. Great, as suspected, she’s bad. Are there any good people left in this world?
Leaning back in my chair, I think over what my options are right now. I could leave, tell the boys, and then come back and get Damon. But what if they already know I have a brother? What if they already know about this place? About Katsia? No, I’ve only got myself. Tilting my head, I look toward the ranch again, watching as Damon stands outside the main entrance, his hands behind his back and his eyes remaining forward. Such posture, poise, and discipline.
Starting the car, I put it into Drive and head toward the front entrance, where Damon is standing. He looks at my truck and then quickly looks behind him, checking to make sure no one is coming. Pulling open the passenger door, his jaw tenses. “What are you doing, Madison?”
“Get in.”
“I can’t—”
“Get the fuck in this car now, Damon. I’m dead serious. Nothing will happen to you.” He looks over his shoulder and then looks back to me. Removing his hat, he tosses it across the sidewalk and gets into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. Skidding out of the ranch, I make my way down the long driveway, the darkness of the night soaking through all the trees. During the day, this driveway looks incredible, all bright colors and positive energy, but at night, it looks like it could be the driveway to Hades. The trees reach over the long road, casting shadows in the night. I look toward Damon, the dash lights illuminating his features a smidge.
“Are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “This is not good. Katsia—”
“Will do nothing,” I snap, then relax a little. “Look, I don’t know if you can understand fully what I’m saying, but I’m going to go with it anyway. I don’t know who I can trust in this world or who I can’t. I’ve trusted the wrong people before, and it won’t be the last time, but I trust you.”
He looks to me now, his eyes softening. “You trust me?”
“Yes,” I respond, taking my eyes back to the road ahead and making a right turn onto the main highway. “I can’t explain how or why, but I do. But know this,” I murmur. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Damon.”
“I don’t need your protection, Madiso
n.”
“I know. But Katsia won’t do anything.”
“You not understand,” he whispers. “I’m the alpha Lost Boy.” Even the word alpha sounds weird coming out of his mouth because he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy to me. I haven’t seen him in an alpha form, so I giggle a little.
“Madison,” he shakes his head in disdain, “so much you don’t know.”
“Well, we have a forty-minute drive back.”
“You never should come back, Madison.”
I look at him then the road and then back to him. “What? Why?”
“He knew no take you there but did anyway.”
“Who?”
He looks at me dead in the eye. “Your father.”
The drive back was done in silence after Damon’s little outburst of how I shouldn’t be back in the Hamptons. I wanted to press to learn why, but I can’t. Not yet. I can see how Damon will only share what he wants to share, and he’s not the type of person that can be swayed.
We pull into our underground garage, and I look at the clock in the dash. Just past midnight, so everyone should be asleep, if my dad and Elena are even home. I don’t see Nate’s car anywhere, so I know he’s not in for the night. Probably out terrorizing some poor girl. Pushing the button to close the garage door, I get out of the car and round to the passenger side. Damon follows, shutting the door behind him.
“Come on. You can sleep in my room until I figure some stuff out.”
“I can’t stay.” He shakes his head.
“The fuck you can’t.” I take his arm, and he tenses at my touch, yanking away from me.
“Sorry,” he mutters when he sees the shock on my face.
“It’s okay. So you don’t like being touched. That’s probably the least of the weird thing I’ve come across as far as phobias go.” Beeping the car, I make my way toward the door with Damon following closely behind me.
“It’s not a phobia,” he confesses, just as we make our way up the stairs to the main living area.
I turn over my shoulder a little. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”
He pauses, his eyes searching my face before he nods. “Thank you.”
I smile softly, and then round the stairs, taking the first step. “I’ll get some of Nate’s clothes for you. He won’t mind, and even if he did, he could eat a fat….” I notice he’s not following me anymore and turn around, finding him still on the first step and looking to the ground like he’s trying to add something up in his head. “Damon?”
“Nate?” he whispers. “Nate?” he repeats, searching the ground once more.
“Yes?” I take a tentative step back down. “Nate Riverside?”
Damon stills. “Not Riverside.”
Huh? I swear this is too much. “We can finish all these conversations tomorrow. Come on, let’s get some sleep.” I reach my hand out to him and he takes it, letting me lead him up the stairs and into my room. As soon as he’s inside, he pauses, looking around.
“No pink?”
I shake my head. “Not a pink girl.”
Damon looks like he wants to giggle, but doesn’t. In fact, I don’t recall ever seeing him smile, much less giggle. “Not surprising.”
I tilt my head. “I’ll set you up on the floor. I’ll just go and get something for you to wear from Nate’s room.” Though Nate is noticeably larger than Damon, I’m pretty sure he can make it work until I take him to get new clothes.
Slipping into my bathroom, I open Nate’s door, the dark room a little creepy. Hitting the light, I walk straight to Nate’s closet.
“The fuck are you doing, sis?”
“Shit!” I scream, spinning around and coming face-to-face with Nate. Damon comes barging through the door, his eyes feral and his stance stiff. “It’s okay!” I tell Damon, noticing how he looks about ready to rip someone’s head off.
He isn’t looking like the Damon I’ve just met and spent a bit of time with.
“And who the fuck are you?” Nate quips, getting out of bed with his Calvin Klein briefs on.
“Nate, get back into bed.”
“No,” he says, narrowing his eyes on Damon. “I know you.”
“No, you don’t,” I brush him off while praying he doesn’t so I can leave this conversation until tomorrow. I’m hungry, tired, and I didn’t get the rest I wanted and needed, so I’m about ready to jump off the cliff of “calm and collected” and dive straight into the ocean of “lost my shit” with five-foot swells of “I’ll kill you all.”
“Yes,” Nate continues, slowly stepping closer and closer to Damon. “You…” Something clicks in his head, and he suddenly launches toward Damon, his fist flying toward his face.
“Nate!” I scream, throwing myself toward the two of them, but latching onto Nate’s back, my arms connecting around his throat. Damon swerves, dodging his punch calmly, his face not showing any distress. He looks almost disinterested—bored.
Nate falls to the ground with me on top of him.
“What the fuck?” I slap Nate on the back. “Dick!”
Nate flips me on my ass and gets to his feet, pointing down at me. “Stay the fuck there.” Then he turns to Damon. “I fucking know you.”
I get to my feet. “Leave him alone.”
Damon looks to Nate. “I know you do.”
“Shut up, Damon!” I snap. He needs to shut his mouth before he says something stupid. Hopefully, he’ll say it in Latin.
Nate tilts his head. “Et tu puer vetustus amissus….”
Well, there goes that theory.
“You speak fucking Latin?” I yell toward Nate, but he throws his hand up, halting me. Getting my phone out of my pocket, I quickly pull up the translate app, so I can type at least one word I catch into the program. I snap my mouth closed, sensing the tense energy in the room. It’s almost like two devils have come head-to-head, and one of them is going down. It’s eerie, creepy, and goose bumps break out over my spine at just how seriously terrifying this is.
Damon’s stance changes. The air shifts as his shoulders square, his eyes break into black marbles, and his lip curls.
I step back, realizing how little I know about him. His entire being just morphed in front of my very eyes. No longer is he the quiet valet boy who speaks hardly any English. Now, I’m seeing him—as he put it—the Alpha Lost boy.
“Pueri et im amissa.”
Lost Boy.
Okay, so Nate knows about them. Or something was said about the Lost Boys. Of fucking course he does.
“Well this is all great and everything, but I’m tired—”
“Madison! Shut up!” Nate snaps at me.
He turns back toward Damon, stepping closer. My fingers twitch, wanting to get between them to stop any other altercation from happening. “Non potes habere eam,” Nate seethes, his lip curled and his steps calculated. Like a hungry tiger, waiting to take its kill on his prey.
Can’t have her.
Okay, what the fuck?
“Have me?” I ask, looking up from my phone. “What are you two actually fuckin—”
The door bangs open, revealing Bishop standing there, his dark hoodie over his head, in his loose, torn jeans, and with his combat boots on his feet. His eyes scan over me first before going to Nate and Damon.
“Are you kidding me?” I yell, quickly making my way toward Damon.
Nate is lethal; he could snap someone’s neck with his bare hands and not blink, but Bishop? Bishop is a different level entirely. He’d not only snap your neck; he’d dissect your body piece-by-piece and send each of your organs to a member of your family.
“Madison,” Bishop growls. It’s so low, it catches my breath. I look toward him, but press my back against Damon. Bishop’s eyes are dark, almost black, his head down slightly, his jaw tense, and his lip curled in disgust. He doesn’t flinch. All his focus is solely on Damon. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
“No!” I snap. “Damon isn’t like the others, whatever they’re like. I wo
uldn’t know, because I don’t speak motherfucking Latin!” I’m losing my shit a bit, but I’m sick of being the quiet voice in the house.
“Madison. Get the fuck out of the way before I fucking move you myself.”
“Madison,” Damon says gently from behind me, and I shiver at the cool calmness of his voice. It’s petrifying, but peaceful. I know he won’t hurt me, so I trust him.
“Shh,” I hush him over my shoulder before looking back to both Nate and Bishop.
“Now both of you are going to let me finish speaking.” I look between the two of them. “Damon left Katsia—and yes, I know about Katsia, and before you both fly off the handle, I drove to the ranch, not knowing what it was, only remembering what is was like there as a kid.”
Forget.
I take a big gulp of air. “I needed a fucking break from you guys, so I drove to the only place I remember my dad taking me as a kid—that ranch. It wasn’t until I got there and met Damon and then Katsia…” I shake my head, still in shock from that revelation. “…that I realized the place was something else entirely. I look toward Bishop, his eyes still on Damon like he’s ready to feast on him for dessert.
“Bishop?” I narrow my eyes. “Did you guys know he’s my brother? My twin?”
Bishop’s focus snaps straight to me before going back to Damon. “Et nuntiatum est illi?”
“Stop fucking talking in Latin!” I yell, annoyed with everyone even though the way the syllables roll off Bishop’s tongue has my lady bits tingling. “Did you both know?” I repeat, looking toward Bishop and Nate.
“Yes,” Bishop answers, dropping his hoodie to sit around his neck. He cranks his shoulders, rolling them out before looking back to Damon. “But that doesn’t mean shit. You shouldn’t trust him.”
“Why?” I scoff. “Like I shouldn’t have trusted you?”
His mouth snaps closed. “That’s different.”
I roll my eyes and look back to Damon. “Go into my room. I’m okay. I’ll handle it.”
Damon pauses then nods. “Okay.” He turns and walks back to my room, and I shut Nate’s door, spinning around to look at both boys. “The fuck is your problem?”
