Specters of Nemesis:

by Karen Kincy

“Bless you,” Jin Hua said.

  Smiling, Wendel switched to English. “Wedding soup.” He ladled soup into a bowl. “Please, the bride eats first.”

  Ardis dipped her spoon into the amber broth. Chicken meat, noodles, asparagus, little meatballs, and what looked like dumplings floated in the Hochzeitssuppe. She blew on a spoonful before popping it into her mouth.

  “God,” she said, “that’s good.”

  Wendel’s smile widened. “But wait, there’s more.”

  The second course turned out to be smoked Baltic salmon, followed by a third course of Königsberger Klopse, the specialty of Wendel’s hometown, meatballs in white sauce. Waiters brought wine to the table, a sweet Riesling.

  Ardis tried to pace herself, nibbling the food and sipping the drink.

  The fourth course was boiled lobster with plenty of lemon-herb butter, accompanied by a fifth course of chilled elderberry soup, the red-black shade of garnets. Jin Hua nodded at color with begrudging appreciation.

  “Lucky enough,” she said.

  “I’m an excellent student,” Wendel said. “And I had the arch–Falkenrath–to help me.”

  Konstantin rolled his eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

  Wendel raised his glass. “A toast,” he said, “to Konstantin Falkenrath.”

  “Hear, hear,” Ardis said.

  Everyone toasted Konstantin. Blushing, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

  The sixth course arrived, a reprieve from the filling dishes, a winter beetroot salad spiced with cinnamon, cloves, and caraway.

  “Another red dish,” Ardis said. “Impressive.”

  “Like I said, I’m an excellent student.” Wendel articulated his words with care, no doubt because he was feeling the alcohol.

  “Humility isn’t your strong point,” Jin Hua said.

  Konstantin almost choked on his wine laughing. Himmel whacked him on the back while the waiters cleared away the salad course.

  “Hier sind die Nudeln.” Forgetting himself, Wendel spoke in German.

  Jin Hua stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Pardon me.” Wendel returned to English. “Here are the noodles.”

  With a grand wave of his arm, he summoned the waiters to bring the seventh course, spaghetti with clams, mussels, and shrimp.

  “Not Chinese noodles,” Jin Hua said, “but the shellfish was a nice touch.”

  “Why, thank you.” Wendel smiled like a cat who drank too much cream.

  Konstantin held his knife and fork at the ready. “Delicious.”

  As thin as he was, he seemed to have no problem putting away vast quantities of food. Not to mention wine.

  Himmel nudged Konstantin’s glass away. “Go easy.”

  “I’m hardly tipsy,” he said.

  “You went straight past tipsy to sloshed.”

  Konstantin laughed. “I propose a toast to the bride and groom. May they see the world.” He winked at Ardis.

  She couldn’t help laughing in return. “Not a bad idea.”

  Wendel glanced at her empty glass. “More?”

  “Please,” she said.

  At least she wasn’t pregnant. The thought cut her like a dull knife. After he refilled her glass, she drank deeply to numb herself.

  By the eighth course, a selection of fruit and cheese, her head swam from the wine.

  “My God.” Himmel loosened his belt. “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “The last course?” Ardis said.

  “Not yet.” Wendel signaled to the waiters. “Nine courses, as requested.”

  The waiters brought a simple white cake decorated with marzipan roses and hearts. Ardis braced herself on the table before standing.

  “How did you find such a cute cake, Wendel?” she said.

  His cheeks flushed. “Blame Konstantin.”

  “I’m innocent!” Konstantin said, lifting his hands as if getting arrested.

  Wendel coughed. “Time to cut the cake.” He held out the knife.

  She placed her hand over his. “Not wobbly,” she said.

  “I know how to wield a blade.”

  She smirked. “But a butter knife?”

  “I could do that blindfolded.”

  Together, they cut the cake. It was only a little wobbly. Wendel served Ardis the first slice, then dipped his finger in the frosting.

  “Bad!” Laughing, she swatted his hand away.

  He grinned shamelessly. “But you love bad.”

  “I do.”

  ~

  After escaping the endless goodbyes, Ardis and Wendel walked through the night. Alone at last. She floated on light feet, like strolling across clouds. Maybe she should have blamed the alcohol warming her blood.

  “Did we get married?” She laughed. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

  Wendel smirked. “Trust me, you’re awake. And I can think of a much more productive use of your time than sleep.”

  “Productive?” She arched her eyebrows. “What could you mean?”

  “Let me enlighten you.”

  He stole a kiss on the street, his mouth hard enough to make her shiver, and held her with a hand pressed into the small of her back. When he withdrew, she braced herself on his arms. Snow piqued the smell of his wool coat.

  “Enlighten me more,” she said.

  They ran to the Hotel am Meer. Wendel dragged her upstairs as fast as her feet would allow. He fumbled to unlock their room, clumsy in his haste. Breathless, she laughed. He swept her inside before kicking the door shut.

  Wendel spoke in a husky murmur. “Take off your dress.”

  “I can’t,” Ardis said. “I’m too full.”

  She dropped onto the bed, closed her eyes, and started giggling. He knelt by the mattress and tugged off her shoes.

  “Even my toes feel drunk.” She wiggled them.

  After stripping to his undershirt, Wendel climbed into bed and dragged her against him.

  “You’re so handsome,” she said.

  He laughed low in his throat. “You aren’t even looking at me.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Was the banquet lucky enough?”

  “Dripping with luck.” She snorted. “My mother might like you now.”

  “Mission accomplished.” He kissed the nape of her neck. “It’s a lovely dress, though you would be even lovelier outside of it.”

  She mumbled a complaint, no actual words, and snuggled closer. With a resigned sigh, he dragged a blanket over them both. Savoring the heat of his body and the pine scent of his aftershave, she drifted into heavenly sleep.

  Knocking shattered her dreams.

  She kicked off the blanket, considerably soberer in the cold. “Wendel!”

  He was already tense. “Your mother?”

  “An assassin wouldn’t knock.”

  Grimacing, he slid out of bed. “No assassins. Not on my wedding night.”

  He sounded just as sober. Judging by the depth of the snow on the windowsill, they had slept for at least a few hours.

  “Get the door!” she whispered.

  Wendel cracked it open, then swept it all the way. “Jesus Christ.”

  His doppelgänger stood there, stubble grown into a beard, hair damp with melting snow. Ardis blinked quickly, as if this would wake her from a dream.

  Wendel II narrowed his eyes. “Your wedding night?”

  “Damn,” Wendel I said, “these walls are thin.”

  “You weren’t exactly quiet.” Wendel II stepped into the room.

  It took Ardis a moment to speak. “You’re alive.”

  “Clearly.”

  She reached out but didn’t touch him. “How long have you been back?”

  He glanced over her wrinkled wedding dress. “I returned to Kiel tonight.” He swallowed. “God, you look beautiful.”

  “I wish you could have been there.”

  Wendel I looked at her with incredulity. “You can’t
marry two men.”

  “Aren’t you both Wendel von Preussen?” She folded her arms. “Technically, I did.”

  The two necromancers locked stares, as if the winner would be the one to claim her. Their intensity made her shiver.

  A smirk curled Wendel II’s mouth. “Jealous?”

  “Of an older version of myself?”

  “Ouch.” He pretended to wince. “You must be referring to my superior experience.”

  “In what?”

  “Everything.”

  “Does that include failure?”

  “Go to hell.” Wendel II said it flippantly, but he had a dangerous glint in his eyes.

  Ardis pushed them apart, her hands on their chests. She could feel their heartbeats hammering, a dissonant rhythm.

  “Besides,” Wendel I said, “you look feral.”

  Wendel II stroked his beard. “She likes feral.”

  She wasn’t about to disagree. “Stop arguing,” she said. “Stay.”

  “And what?” Wendel I said.

  The lingering alcohol in her blood made her bold. “Use your imagination.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Wendel II murmured, a rasp in his voice.

  “Do I need to spell it out?” Lifting her chin, she refused to back down from his stare. “Sleep with me tonight. Together.”

  “Together?” Wendel I cocked his head. “Would that make it masturbation?”

  “Caught in a moral dilemma?” Wendel II had a wicked smirk. “Luckily for you, Ardis, my morals are a bit more flexible.”

  “For heaven’s sake. Don’t sound so proud.”

  “Was I always that prudish, Ardis?”

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t have chosen that word.”

  When she kissed Wendel II, he let out a little moan that could only be involuntary. She shivered at the unexpected softness of his beard, which had grown past the rasp of stubble. His hands slid along the curve of her back.

  He broke away. “Ardis.” He sounded gravelly. “I can’t.”

  Wendel I sneered. “Prudish?”

  “No. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then leave.”

  Ardis held up her hand to silence him. “Why are you here?”

  Wendel II averted his gaze, but not before she saw the haunted look in his eyes. He stroked his thumb over his lower lip.

  “Thorsten isn’t dead,” he said.

  Wendel I stared at him, the color draining from his face. “What?”

  “Thorsten. Isn’t. Dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him.” Wendel II worked his jaw. “On the shore. Tracked him out of town, but I lost him on the way to Hamburg.”

  “Christ.” Wendel I raked his hands through his hair. “Why would you do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Ruin my wedding night.”

  Wendel II’s face twisted. “I’m warning you so Thorsten doesn’t stab you in your sleep.”

  “You couldn’t have waited one night?”

  “Don’t be so selfish. I never even had the chance to be married.”

  Wendel I forced out a laugh. “You did this out of spite?”

  “How could I have known?” Wendel II advanced on his twin as if he wanted to hit him. “Why the hell did you only have a week of patience?”

  “Because I love Ardis.”

  “I loved her, and I still love her. I lost her once already. But by God, be realistic. Now isn’t the time for feasting and fu–”

  “Enough!” Her heart pounding, Ardis glanced between them. “Could one or both of you try not being a bastard?”

  Wendel II laughed bitterly. “Too late.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache. “We need a plan.”

  “I plan to enjoy my wedding night,” Wendel I said.

  “You won’t if I’m not,” she said, with a glare.

  Wendel II started to pace in circles. “We could run.” He shook his head, his eyes glassy. “Though running from Constantinople didn’t help. Hiding would only stop Thorsten for so long. He knows too much about me.”

  “We could fight,” Wendel I said.

  “And if we lose? Again?”

  His eyes unfocused, Wendel I stared at the floor. “What happens if we both die?”

  No one answered that question. At least, not out loud.

  “He’s toying with us.” Fingers shaking, Wendel II loosened the collar of his shirt. “He could be lurking outside this door.”

  “Didn’t you make it here in one piece?” Wendel I said. “Unless I’m missing something.”

  Wendel II glared at him. “I’m tempted to punch myself in the face.”

  “If it makes you feel better.”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re obnoxious.”

  “Suggestion,” Ardis said. “Let’s not talk about Thorsten for the rest of the night.”

  “But–”

  She silenced Wendel II with a raised hand. “We can’t keep thinking of the future, or we will lose this and every other moment.”

  His eyes glimmered as he stared down at her. “What do you want?”

  “You already know.”

  “Forgive me if that isn’t the first thing on my mind.”

  “It should be,” she said.

  Twenty-Two

  She undid the clasp of her dress. The silk slithered to her ankles. When she struggled with her corset, Wendel I stepped behind her.

  “Allow me,” he said.

  He hooked his fingers in the laces, tugging them loose, the heat of his body radiating against her back. Wendel II watched them through slitted eyes, his gaze intense behind his dark lashes, his body tense with coiled energy.

  The corset fell to the floor. Wendel I kissed the nape of her neck.

  Naked, she shivered, her nipples hard. “It’s cold in here.”

  “Let me warm you,” Wendel I murmured in her ear, nearly a growl.

  She licked her lips before stalking over to the second Wendel. He glanced into her eyes, a flicker of worry in his own. She slipped her hands behind his head, her fingers slipping into his hair, and pulled him down into a kiss.

  A groan escaped his throat. He dragged her closer; he was already hard.

  “Take off your clothes,” she whispered against his mouth.

  Miraculously, he obeyed. Wendel II kicked off his boots, while Wendel I unbuttoned his dress shirt. They refused to look at each other, but she had no such qualms. Her gaze wandered over their lean muscles and pale skin.

  “You’re hurt,” Ardis said, to Wendel II.

  He glanced at his bandaged hand, as if he had forgotten catching a blade with his fingers. Another bandage circled his right arm.

  He shrugged. “It can heal without temporal magic.”

  “Had enough of that?” she said.

  “More than enough.”

  Wendel I glanced at his twin. “Like looking at myself in a mirror,” he muttered.

  “Not quite.” Wendel II advanced on him with glittering eyes. “Never thought I would feel another necromancer.”

  When they touched fingertips, Ardis heard a sharp intake of breath, and she wasn’t sure who had gasped. They locked stares, neither one blinking, and she knew they had to be feeling the cold burning of each other’s magic.

  Watching them accelerated her heartbeat. She licked her lips.

  Between one blink and the next, Wendel II kissed his doppelgänger, his fingers knotted in his hair. Wendel I let out a grunt; he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. She pressed her knees together, an ache between her thighs.

  They broke apart. Wendel I looked bleary-eyed from the kiss.

  “I wondered what that felt like,” Wendel II said.

  Squinting, Wendel I tilted his head. “Since when?”

  His twin laughed. “Longer than I would care to admit.”

  “God, you’re arrogant.”

&
nbsp; “You, too.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Ardis arched her eyebrows. “Well…”

  Both of them glanced at her, at the same time, with the same devilish glint in their eyes. Like they remembered she existed.

  “Are we distracting you?” Wendel I said.

  The lust in their stares made her giddy. “No,” she lied.

  Shamelessly, she looked between them. Never had she dreamed of two men in her bedroom. No, that wasn’t true–she had dreamed, just never expected it to come true. It didn’t hurt that Wendel was so damn attractive.

  “Have you done this before?” She swallowed hard. “A devil’s threeway?”

  Both of them shared a glance; she couldn’t decipher the look between them.

  “No,” Wendel II said. “Not many tolerate the touch of a necromancer.”

  Her stomach tightened with guilt. When she had first met him, she had thought of him as an abomination, his magic disgusting.

  Wendel I laughed. “Has anyone ever had a threeway with himself?”

  “Good point,” she said.

  Cornering her against the wall, Wendel I caged her between his arms. Every time she took a breath, her breasts touched him.

  She licked her lips. Deliberately. “Is that all?”

  He dragged her to him, swept her off her feet, and dropped her on the bed. That’s where the other Wendel pounced. Kneeling over her, Wendel I pinned her arms above her head, letting Wendel II steal a kiss from her mouth.

  She shivered at the feel of his beard. “Are you ganging up on me?”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Wendel II said.

  “We have you exactly where we want you,” Wendel I added.

  The rasp in his voice was beautiful to hear. Her heartbeat hammered where his fingers pressed against her wrists.

  “Exactly?” She rocked against him. “Are you sure?”

  His eyes half-closed, Wendel II stroked himself in his fist. “Would you like to watch?” He spoke in velvety murmur.

  She resisted the urge to claw at the Wendel holding her down. “I want you inside me.”

  “Who?” Wendel II said.

  “Either.” Heat scorched her face. “Both.”

  The time for talk seemed to be over. Wordlessly, Wendel I gripped her hips and thrust inside her. The hard length of him was too much–yet it wasn’t enough. She held him by the buttocks, her fingernails biting his skin.