by L. C. Davis
Kingdom of Night:
Equilibrium
L.C. Davis
Copyright © 2016 L.C. Davis
All Rights Reserved.
Acknowledgments
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
L.C. Davis acknowledges the trademark status of all brands and copyrighted works mentioned in this work of fiction.
Warnings
This book contains explicit male/male and male/male/male sexual content, themes of violence, suicide, twins sharing a submissive, bdsm and mention of past sexual assault. Split POV. This is the final book in Remus' trilogy within the ongoing Kingdom of Night Series.
"To put everything in balance is good, to put everything in harmony is better."
- Victor Hugo
Prologue
ARTHUR
Some people are just born to die, and I was one of them. The gun was level with my forehead and I closed my eyes not because I was afraid--I welcomed this moment, the one I had seen coming in one form or another since I was five years old--but because I was curious to find out if a hunter's life flashed before his eyes before he died. I squinted hard but all I could see was the back of my eyelids and some neon floaters.
It figured. I guess your life could only flash before your eyes if you had actually lived it.
Here I stood, ready to take a bullet just a few months past my twenty-first birthday and I hadn't even had my first legal drink yet. There had been no party and no acknowledgment of the passing milestone. Had I lived to die the way my family wanted me to, my death would have been celebrated far more than my birth ever had.
The great irony was that this death, the death of a prodigal son with no hope of redemption, would be the first and only death the hunters had ever mourned. The metallic click of the hammer falling back elicited a small, dry laugh from my throat.
I may not have lived my life in style, but how many people got to say they had literally laughed in the face of death?
Chapter 1
ARTHUR
"Try not to look so glum, kiddo." Prentice's voice jolted me out of thoughts of nothing in particular as I lazily groped the manicured lawn for stones to skip across the water. It was petty of me, but I enjoyed agitating the koi flitting beneath the surface of the pond, my mother's pride and joy. The spot was obscured by the thick garden that led into the Walk of Souls, the resident graveyard for all hunters who had passed on. Skipping stones was a better pastime than actually participating in the family picnic from hell that was going on further up the hill.
Prentice tossed his grey blazer onto the ground and sat next to me. "I don't know if they told you, but this is an engagement party, not a funeral." He gave a satisfied chuckle at his own joke. I managed a one-sided smile.
"Come on, cheer up," he said, giving me a nudge. "You keep acting like this and your mother is going to start talking about the chamber again."
I would have happily volunteered myself for the isolation chamber if I thought it would get me out of the party, but I kept that to myself.
"I'm fine," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. "Just stretched thin between all the schoolwork and werewolf espionage, I guess."
Prentice had always had a way of calling bullshit on me without actually saying a word or altering his expression. Looked like he hadn't lost his touch. "I have my doubts that Differential Equations and Advanced Experimental Psychology are causing you any trouble, but if that's the case, we only need you to stay enrolled in college for another few days. After that, you'll get to enjoy a nice vacation at the Lodge."
"A few days?" I tried to hide the urgency in my voice. "I thought we were waiting until the end of the semester."
"There's been a change of plans."
I swallowed hard. "You mean everyone thinks I'm going to crack and ruin everything so you're moving up the date before I lose my nerve."
He watched me with an impassive look. It was all the answer I needed.
"Great," I said bitterly, flinging another rock across the pond. That one missed the water entirely and hit the bank on the other side.
"You know I've been your biggest advocate up to this point, but even I'm starting to run out of excuses on your behalf." He hesitated as if he wasn't sure how to put what was coming next. I braced myself for a doozy and wasn't disappointed. "Sometimes I'm not sure they're wrong."
"How can you say that?" I had the gall to be hurt, even though he wasn't entirely off base. I'd been having doubts ever since I met Remus, who was so unlike the callous enemy I had been groomed to face.
"Your resistance towards transformation has always been a concern," he said carefully. "Perhaps we weren't as attentive as we should have been, but Clive always seemed the more severe case of resistance between the two of you."
"Clive? So that's what this is about," I muttered. "Good to know he's gone from ignoring me to narcing on me."
Clive and I had always been close, or so I'd thought. We both swore that we'd find a way to stick together after ascension, to fight it with whatever part of ourselves was left over. The fact that he had barely spoken two words to me since his glorious awakening was proof that he hadn't kept his end of that naïve childhood promise. The realization was enough for me to finally accept the truth. If Clive of all people hadn't survived ascension with his will intact, I didn't stand a chance in hell.
"He came to me, Arthur," Prentice said as if that somehow made it alright. "He was worried about the things you said before his funeral. If he didn't care, he would have gone straight to the others."
"And you told them." I clutched a handful of perfectly even grass until it strained at the roots.
"Don't be angry at me, Arthur."
That made me laugh. I wasn't angry at Prentice. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't be. I knew because I had tried to hate him on so many occasions, most recently upon the announcement of his engagement to our mutual cousin Emily, because being hurt was so much worse than being angry. No dice.
"I'm not angry, just confused. Clive telling on me is one thing, but you?"
"I know you can't see this right now, but I did it for you, not to you," he said in that, 'I'm an adult now and you're just a stupid kid' tone I had come to despise. "Clive told me you're having second thoughts about the mission."
"Oh, I'll bet he did."
"It's not the things you said in the past that concern me." He waited expectantly, like I knew what he wanted me to say. I did, but that was beside the point. If he wanted me to talk, I wasn't going to make it easy.
Finally, he sighed in resignation. "Suicide, Arthur? Has it really come to that?"
"It was just stupid drunk talk," I muttered.
"I pray that's all it was. You know our Father shows no mercy towards his children who throw away their own lives, especially for such a selfish, ignoble cause."
"I went to the same dogma classes as you did, Prentice. I know the legend. And please, stop talking to me like I'm a child. I'm only a few years younger than the woman you're marrying, for God's sake."
The words made my stomach churn and I felt like I'd never get the taste of them out of my mouth.
"That's true, but Emily has never given anyone reason to doubt her loyalty to the Family. She knows her place in this life, as we all must."
"And what exactly is my place?" I asked, finally turning to look at him. Keeping my eyes averted had been the right decision. He was gorgeous, as always, but it was the way his black hair rustled in the breeze as if begging to be touched and the way his blue shirt made his eyes stand out and the way his suspenders strained against his lithe build that made him particularly dangerous to look at today.
"We all know what yours is," I continued before he had the chance to decide whether my question was genuine or sarcastic. "The Patriarch will choose you to take Grandpa Hugh's place as the head of the Family. It's just a matter of time."
"Nothing is set in stone," he said in an award-winning display of false humility. "Besides, even if the Patriarch does choose me, our grandfather will find a way to stretch his last putrid lungful of air out another ten years before he hands the reigns over to me."
My eyes widened in surprise at his words and a bit of horror. Besides Prentice and Clive, our grandfather was the only member of the Family who wasn't completely set against me. To Prentice's credit, the favor and kindness the old man showed me were noticeably lacking in his interactions with his eldest grandchild. Grandpa Hugh had always been Prentice's sole detractor, but I had never imagined the enmity between them ran so deep on Prentice's end.
Prentice cleared his throat and quickly covered the evidence that he still had emotions with a flawless, stony mask. It was rotten of me, especially under the circumstances, but seeing him display any emotion at all, however negative it might be, filled me with hope. It was a rare commodity these days, and I took it where I could find it.
"Forgive me. All the wedding plans have me a bit on edge."
"Don't apologize," I murmured, gazing at a big spotty fish that was daring enough to come to the surface and bubble at us. "You know you can tell me anything in confidence."
He gave a heavy sigh and I waited for the lecture on passive-aggression that was bound to follow. Instead, he rested a hand on my shoulder and I jolted at the unexpected touch. When I turned to face him, he was wearing a cool, knowing smile. It was tempting to play guessing games as to whether he knew that the simple touch meant so much more to me than it did to him, but I tried not to torture myself unnecessarily. That was my family's job.
"It's alright that you're sore at me. One day you'll look back and realize that I'm only doing what I know is best for you," he said in a warm, gentle tone that made me swoon in spite of myself.
"If you want what's best for me, then don't let them change me into someone else," I pleaded, seizing what might easily be my last chance to reason with him.
Disappointment flickered on his face and he withdrew his hand from my shoulder. I briefly wondered if that would be the last time he touched me, too.
"Ascension is what's best for you, Arthur," he said firmly. "I've been through it myself. Do you really think I'd let you go through something that was bad for you?"
"You're different," I said earnestly. "You can pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, but we used to discuss it all the time before your funeral. When we come out of the ground, we're not the same people we were when we went in. It's like the earth knows we aren't supposed to be there and she spits us back out, but something else slips inside first, like fingers in a glove."
His eyes narrowed dangerously and his hand twitched at his side. For the first time in my life I thought he was going to hit me, but that wave of emotion passed just like the other had.
"It's exactly that kind of talk that's going to get you thrown into the isolation chamber," he said, taking on a stern, fatherly tone I liked even less than the deadpan affect he had adopted lately. "I'm giving you everything you could ask for. Do you think it was easy to convince your mother to let you go to the Lodge, frolicking around with those faggot wolves and indulging in all their perversions?"
I cringed at his use of the slur. Even though it wasn't directed at me, it applied and it served as just another painful reminder of what he thought of my sexuality.
His anger faded into an apologetic smile that didn't meet his eyes. None of his smiles did these days. It was much easier to pretend he was still the same Prentice I had grown up with if I just didn't look.
"You know I didn't mean you, Arthur," he said, stroking my hair in what was probably meant as an affectionate gesture. Instead, it felt mechanical. Obligatory. Put the coin in the machine, press the button and collect your prize. "You're not like them."
"You're right. I'd be the one getting fucked, so if Sebastian and Brendan are faggots, there's probably an even worse term for me," I said dryly.
He didn't flinch at my vulgarity. He was used to it. "It's different," he said without missing a beat. "You're just confused, broken. You'll outgrow it," he said, turning his gaze on a vulture circling some carrion in the distance. "Your kind always does."
"And if I don't?" I challenged.
He gave me a sideways glance. "Then ascension will solve that problem, too. It isn't death, Arthur, it's new life. We've been given a chance, can't you see that? The chance to start over as a new person, whole and without physical or mental blemish. The chance to become powerful, useful, meaningful."
I had decided I would rather be a pointless failure than a meaningful success a long time ago if it meant that I would become a passenger in my own mind. Wort case scenario, ascension meant ceasing to exist at all. Prentice knew my thoughts without my having to admit them because they had been his own once. There was just too little of him left to admit it now. Our conversation had only served as confirmation of that.
"Guess I'll just have to take your word for it," I said, hoping he would just leave me alone.
He patted my back and a red flag went up in my mind. He was never this affectionate. Not since his ascension. "You will. All this waiting isn't helping. I'm going to pay a visit to the Lodge Friday afternoon to set things into motion. All you need to do is turn off your phone and be in your dorm room when the hybrid comes to rescue you."
I nodded since fear had a stranglehold on my voice. Prentice eyed me suspiciously. "If I can't count on you to do this, I need you to tell me now. I won't be angry."
No, you'll just throw me in the chamber.
"You can count on me," I said with all the earnestness I could muster. It was easy to lie if I pretended the real Prentice could hear me. Then it wasn't really a lie at all. "No matter how I feel about the rest of the Family, I'd do anything for you."
My words seemed to reassure him and he ruffled my hair. "I know you would."
"Prentice?" Emily's soft, melodic voice mingled with the breeze. A moment later, she was visible coming up the hill with her bright yellow sundress billowing in the wind. She held onto a white straw hat that was doing little to keep the straw-colored waves underneath it in check. "What are you doing down here?"
What she really wanted to ask was, "What are you doing with him?"
Prentice winked at me and leaped to his feet, snatching up his jacket before he ran to help Emily the rest of the way down the hill. Always the gentleman. "Just having a chat with Arthur, love."
Emily's angelic smile faded into jealousy as she turned to look at me. I waved enthusiastically to rub it in. Emily had never been quite as angelic around me as she was with the rest of the Family. I had always been able to see the horns peeking through the porcelain skin on her forehead and she had always hated me for it. She especially hated the attention Prentice had lavished on me when we were younger.
I told myself she would find a way to live. Fifteen minutes alone with him wasn't much in comparison to the next couple hundred years she would get to spend at his side. I wasn't about to let her make me feel guilty for it, even if it was her engagement party.
"My mother wants to talk to you about the venue," Emily said, her tone dripping with sweetness as she spoke to him and simultaneously glared at me. Prentice was oblivious, as always.
"Of course," he said, turning back to me. Her arm was wrapped possessively around his, like I was a threat. "Yo
u gonna be alright, sport?"
I managed a stiff smile. "Mhm."
He gave me what he probably thought was a reassuring smile in return and led his bride-to-be back up the hill to rejoin their world of garden parties during the day and black rituals in the dark. His world now, I reminded myself.
I flopped back on the grass and gazed up at the sky. It wasn't an uncommon pastime but, unlike most people, I wasn't watching the clouds. I preferred to stare directly at the sun until I could see nothing but its negative image the moment I closed my eyes.
It was admittedly a strange fixation. I had always rejected the hunger myths, fearsome though they might be, and fancied myself something of a closet atheist. Nonetheless, when it came right down to it I was every bit as much of a sun worshiper as any of the others. The light never seemed to burn my eyes, despite my mother's warnings. When I had asked her why the Patriarch made it dangerous for his children to look at him if he loved us so much, she hit me so hard a filling came out. That was the day I learned not to ask so many questions.
~
On Friday morning, I learned how alarmingly easy it is to buy a gun in rural Washington. A few hundred dollars and a driver's license and I was all set. Funny how we never seemed to view humans as a threat.
Buying the weapon had been the easy part. Hiding it was more of a challenge. I settled for a pair of boots Remus had left behind in the closet of our dorm room. They were the girly, knee-high variety so there was plenty of room for it in the shaft. One of my many uncles who had been assigned to babysit me finally left and I pretended to be engrossed in a zombie shooter until his SUV pulled out of the visitor parking lot.
It was only a matter of time before Remus and his entourage arrived to save me. I got up and went into the bathroom, opening the aspirin bottle in my medicine cabinet. I shook the silver bullets stored inside out into my hand and dropped them into my shirt pocket. If my uncle had found the gun, my plan was to feign ignorance and suggest that Remus had probably purchased it for protection from his stalker ex. It would have been hard to get him to buy the lie if the gun was filled with wolf hunting ammo.
