by Aubrey Ross
“Open your mind.” Evan’s tone was so cold it made her shiver.
“Stop it!” Aidan tossed his head, trying to shake off Torral’s hold.
“Open.”
Aidan screamed, his fingernails digging into Torral’s wrists. He kicked and arched, twisting violently as the Burtons moved through his mind. Lark could almost see them. They ventured deeper and Aidan fought harder, body flailing on the cot.
Suddenly he collapsed, still as death. No one moved. No one spoke. Then Torral removed his hands and Aidan opened his eyes.
“I’m in the wrong body, but I’ll take it.” Connell sounded rather stunned.
“Where is Aidan?” Lark wasn’t sure she cared, but curiosity demanded she ask.
“Trapped in sleep state,” Connell told her. “Thank you. Thank you all.”
“Don’t thank us yet.” Joseph reached up under his shirt and withdrew a gun from the back of his pants. “The elder council will decide what to do with you.”
Lark hadn’t realized he had the weapon. Leos produced a set of handcuffs and advanced toward Connell.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Connell protested.
“We have only your word on that.” Leos pulled Connell to his feet and snapped the handcuffs onto one wrist.
Connell shouldered Leos like a linebacker, then turned on Joseph, swinging the dangling cuff like a medieval mace. The cuff hit Joseph’s hand and the gun went off. Connell’s body rocked with the impact of the shot and then collapsed on the concrete floor. Blood saturated his shirt and spread out from beneath him, scarlet rivulets curling through the grime.
“Is he dead?” Lark whispered.
Evan felt for a pulse then nodded.
“I didn’t mean to shoot him.” Joseph handed the gun to Evan, staggering a bit as transformation claimed him. His body disappeared in a flash of sparkling light, far more abruptly than usual. Lark blinked against the brightness, unnerved by the rapid-fire events. When her eyes adjusted to the dim room again, Ryan and Daniel had transitioned too.
* * *
Lark handed Joseph an official-looking message a few days later. “Daniel said it’s from the elder council.”
Joseph broke the seal and pulled out the message, unfolding the page so he could read. “The actions of both Leos and I have been deemed unavoidable.”
“Does this mean you’ll stop sulking?”
“I’d never killed anyone before,” he muttered. “Pardon me for feeling guilty.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you, love. I just miss your smile.” She slipped her arm around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s a long message. What else does it say?”
“Aidan might have gotten the better of Connell toward the end, but Connell was no innocent. The council has reports of violence and misdeeds involving them both.”
“Then why were they never apprehended?”
“It wasn’t for lack of trying. The council came close several times, but the Nicholsons always managed to stay half a step ahead of them.”
“What about Brook? Are they going to take action against her?”
“It doesn’t say. I’ll ask around next time I’m online.” He paused, worry creasing his brow. “The council might have exonerated us, but I doubt Brook will be so forgiving.” He set the letter aside and managed to smile. “Holly’s on her way back from Epiphany Island. It didn’t sound like she wanted to leave.”
“No one can blame her for wanting to bask in the sun after all she’s been through.”
“You’ve been through a lot too.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her softly, his characteristic tenderness returning at last. “What would you like to do?”
“I’d like to walk around the lake hand in hand while we enjoy the sunset.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “Then, when Evan returns, I want to go to the playroom and be restrained in that wicked-looking chair.”
Joseph smiled and kissed the palm of her hand. “Gotta love a woman who knows exactly what she wants.” He pulled her against him and kissed her again.
Epilogue
Brook snapped her phone closed and tossed it on the countertop. The anger boiling within her was almost enough to distract her from the pain.
“That wasn’t good news, I take it?”
She glared at Jason. He meant well, but she wasn’t in the mood to indulge his sense of humor. “I asked Ashley to give me a call once the council made their decision.”
“And?”
“Both Joseph and Leos were exonerated. Their actions were ‘justified’.”
He crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You didn’t really expect any other outcome, did you? The Burtons have had the council in their back pocket for years.”
“My brother is dead.” She clutched the front of his shirt as tears swam before her eyes. “They hunted Aidan down like a dog and the council blithely turns a blind eye. It’s intolerable.”
“What are we going to do about it?” He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.
Irritated by his tenderness, she twisted out of his embrace. “I’m going to take my own advice. I told Aidan to target one brother at a time. Separate and conquer. Successful campaigns have been waged that way for centuries.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously annoyed by her retreat. “Which brother did you have in mind? How will you lure him away from the others?”
“There’s a local artist named Nicole Fierbrose.”
“I’ve seen her stuff. She’s really good.”
“Her talent is irrelevant,” she snapped. “Her connection to the Burtons is what interests me.”
“What’s her connection?”
Determination spread through her being, muting her anger and dulling the pain. She licked her lips and reached for the zipper at the front of Jason’s jeans. “That’s what you’re going to find out.”
Dark Dichotomy, Part 3
Mischief
Aubrey Ross
One of the few humans trusted with the secrets of the Dichotomy, Nicole has always been fascinated with brooding Leos and his handsome day-dwelling twin, Daniel. Her newest artistic creation is a multi-media display called “Mischief”. Claiming she needs a male perspective on the project, Nicole uses the erotic images to arouse and entice the widowers.
Leos and Daniel are far from immune to Nicole’s obvious charms, but can they trust her with their wounded hearts, or is she merely a pawn in their enemy’s dangerous game of revenge?
Chapter One
“The gallery was packed. Was anyone buying or did you have a bunch of fellow artists checking out your work?”
Nicole Fierbrose glanced up from the stack of photographs spread in front of her and smiled at her friend/employee. “A little of both, I guess. Sales were about what I’d originally expected, which was slightly less than I’d hoped given the crowd.”
Anne laughed, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Do you have a diagram? That’s quite an explanation.”
Too distracted to react to the gentle teasing, Nicole turned her attention back to the photographs. “These are even better than the first batch.” The couple in the new photos was older and less…beautiful. Nicole looked beyond their appearance and assessed the emotions reflected in their expressions. “This is a real couple. Isn’t it?”
“Yes, but how did you know?” Anne turned the nearest photo around and looked at the glossy proof. “I thought the other shots were just as expressive as these.”
“The others looked posed, masterfully posed, but posed. These are more relaxed. They’re in love and don’t care who knows how they feel about each other.” Nicole had snagged Anne fresh out of art school. She was undeniably talented and they worked well together, but occasionally her inexperience showed. “I’ll need at least three more sets. How soon can you have them ready?”
“How soon do you need them?”
“Friday would be perfect.”
“I’ll do my best.” When Ni
cole didn’t comment, Anne asked, “Can you tell me what this is about? Why do you need so many images?”
Nicole glanced at the younger woman and smiled. They sat across from each other in one corner of Nicole’s home studio. Sunlight poured in through the large windows, illuminating the neat, sparsely furnished area. The corner townhouse wasn’t large, but it boasted a spectacular view of Alamo Square and the San Francisco skyline.
“My multimedia pieces were an experiment of sorts. I thought they were self-indulgent and wasn’t sure anyone would take them seriously.”
“I thought they were brilliant,” Anne protested. “Didn’t they sell?”
“They sold better than my paintings. People loved the interactive elements.”
“Doesn’t surprise me in the least.” She grinned and tucked a lock of her sleek brown hair behind her ear. “Are you going to do something similar with these images?”
“That’s the plan.” Nicole resumed her inspection of the photographs.
“How will it work this time?”
“I’d rather show you once I have the structure programmed.”
“Fair enough.”
“It’s gorgeous outside.” Nicole motioned toward the windows with one of the proofs. “Why don’t you wander through the park and take some candid shots? Drive over to Buena Vista or maybe hit the campus.”
“Most of the classes are in recess.”
“Then go wherever people go to enjoy the sunshine.” Nicole shooed her toward the door. “I want a variety of age groups and levels of intimacy.”
“We can’t use them without a release.”
“So get releases from anyone you photograph, just wait until after you’ve taken the picture. People act differently when they know they’re being watched.”
Anne pushed back from the table so she could cross her legs. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I need more images and you’re not going to find them here.”
“I realized that a long time ago, the question is, why?” Anne’s eyebrow arched, adding drama to her expression. “You’re better looking than most, too creative for your own good, and easy to talk to. So, why isn’t there a man in your life?”
“It’s a long story.”
Scooting her chair closer to the table, Anne placed her elbow on the glass top and rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “I’m listening.”
Once Anne set her mind on something it was useless to argue. The stubborn streak didn’t surface often, so Nicole generally gave in. “Once upon a time there was a handsome prince.”
“Does this handsome prince have a name?”
“It’s irrelevant to the story.”
“Sorry for the interruption. Go on.”
Nicole suspected it would be the first of many, but she continued. “A lonely artist fell in love with the handsome prince, but he saw her as just a friend or sister.”
“Oh.” Anne perked up immediately. “You’re talking about one of the Burtons. I should have realized.”
“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”
“Sorry.” She zipped her fingers across her lips then folded her hands on the table.
“The prince found a beautiful princess and married her, crushing the lonely artist’s hopes that she could ever make him see her as more than a friend.”
“There are lots of princes in the world. The lonely artist needs to move on.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
Anne held up her hands and smiled. “I won’t say another word until after you’ve said ‘the end’. Deal?”
“Deal. The prince tried to be happy with the princess, but the artist could tell he wasn’t in love.” Anne started to speak, so Nicole silenced her with a look. “He had married the princess out of obligation to his family. I know that sounds old-fashioned, but it still happens in certain circles.
“Anyway, the prince asked the artist to paint his portrait as an anniversary present for the princess. Wanting any excuse to spend time alone with him, the artist agreed. She didn’t want to desire another woman’s husband, but her feelings were no less real. She convinced herself she would never act on the desire even if the prince returned her feelings.”
She paused as memories washed over her, vivid and bittersweet.
Anne held up her hand, her gaze clearly pleading.
“Go ahead.”
“How long ago did all this happen?”
“Six years.”
“And you’re still pining away for him?” Anne fiddled with the pictures spread between them. “Sorry. I’ll keep my opinions to myself. Did you—er, they become lovers?”
“Much to the frustration of the artist, the more time they spent together the more aware he became of her. The love of her life was finally seeing her as a desirable woman, but honor kept him from pursuing the attraction.” She looked away from Anne’s curious gaze as she moved on to more recent events. “Then tragedy struck the kingdom. A villain set the castle on fire, trapping the princess in her tower and ending her life.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible. Was the villain caught?”
“Yes, but the prince feels responsible for his wife’s death and he won’t let anyone get close to him. He’s more oblivious to the artist now than he was before he married the princess.”
“But you’re still in love with him.”
“Hopelessly.” Nicole sighed and abandoned the pretense of storytelling. “I tried dating for a while, but it seemed pointless and unfair to my dates. My heart belongs to Leos and always will.”
“Then Leos is a fool and so are you. There’s nothing between you now but baggage. Kick it out of the way and rekindle the attraction. It sounds like he needs this as badly as you do.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Have you tried?”
“I’ve been supportive and compassionate. I’ve—”
“Supportive and compassionate? Are you serious? If you don’t want him to treat you like a sister, you’ll have to stop acting like one.”
“I’m not sexually aggressive. I have no idea how to seduce a man.”
“Then you have had sex?” Nicole glared, but Anne merely laughed and continued her explanation. “If you want this guy, you’ll have to take the initiative. I’m not talking dominatrix, just flirt a little. Make him think about what he’s been missing all these years. Make it obvious all he has to do is reach out and take it. Show a little cleavage, wear a short skirt. Strut your stuff, sister! Have some fun.”
Nicole tried to picture herself in the role Anne described. Her imagination refused to cooperate. “I’m not the strutting kind.”
“Then show him the pictures. Some of those shots are pretty hot. Ask him about his fantasies and describe yours. You’ll have him all revved up in no time.”
* * *
Cold, insistent hands grasped Brook. One hand shook her shoulder; the other covered her mouth, trapping a scream in the back of her throat. Panic burst through her sleepy mind and her heart thudded wildly. She twisted, determined to elude her captor.
“Be calm,” her father soothed, his voice quiet yet firm. “It’s time to go.”
Fear drained away, leaving Brook weak and shaky. She nodded once and he released her, turning to awaken the others. He didn’t need to elaborate. This wasn’t the first time they’d fled in the middle of the night.
She stuffed her meager possessions into a backpack, her resentment growing with each motion she made. Why was the elder council hunting her family? What had they done wrong?
Her brothers moved about with silent efficiency, well acquainted with the routine. Their mother helped Valerie get ready. Val was the youngest, not even three years old. She was stubborn and could be uncooperative. Brook understood her sister’s frustration, but she was old enough to know acting out put all of them in danger.
Papa hurried them out of the shabby motel room and into the cool night. Brook gathered her sweater more closely about her, feeling tense and unsure. Had
the hunters arrived already? Were they watching, waiting for just the right time to swoop in and take them away?
“Faster,” Papa urged, motioning the boys toward their stolen minivan. Papa said he was only borrowing the vehicle, but Brook knew better.
Valerie tugged against Momma’s hold, tears trailing down her cheeks. “I don’t want to go!”
“The bad people are on their way. We have to hurry.” Momma reached down, meaning to pick up the contrary little girl but Val jerked away and bolted in the opposite direction. “Valerie!”
Momma dropped her bags, preparing to follow, but Papa grabbed her arm. “There’s no time. Let her go.”
Momma gasped as if he’d slapped her and twisted out of his grasp. “I will not leave—”
A dart whizzed past Brook’s head and lodged in Momma’s throat. Then the night exploded with activity as if the shadows had come to life. Men dressed in black rushed in from all directions. Someone grabbed Brook from behind, their hold strong and hurtful. She kicked and wiggled, clawing at the thick forearm preventing her escape. Her neck stung as something sharp pierced her skin. She cried out and renewed her struggles, desperate to reach her mother, terrified for Valerie. Her mouth went dry and her vision blurred. What was… Why were…
Brook sat up in bed, trembling and breathless. It had been years since the nightmare plagued her, since she was forced to relive the end of her childhood. The images faded, leaving an aching sense of loss. Her parents and oldest brother hadn’t survived captivity. Her baby brother had broken off contact after they escaped from the elder council. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead. After years of searching she’d found Valerie. It was a comfort to know Valerie was safe and free from the council’s control. And Aidan, her middle brother, the sibling with whom she had always been closest, had been murdered by the ruthless Burtons.
