The Immortal Twin E-Book

D. B. Woodling

• Herausgeber: CamCat Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 374

Beschreibung

Ancient vampires residing within the Hollow Earth known as The Omniscients impose a strict conduct for all vampires-guidelines Razvan and Bianca Torok, commanders of The Realm, have followed for centuries. But not all immortals abide by these ancient laws. After failing to save the Crenshaws from an explosion and attack of renegade vampires, the Toroks adopt the couple's surviving twins, Celeste and Nick.

Celeste and her twin brother Nick could not be more different. Celeste is a straight A student while Nick lives life on the edge, and she is as introverted as Nick is charismatic. When people ask if they really are twins she knows what they wonder is how one can be so perfect and the other be such a dud? There is one thing, though, they have in common: they are mortal. Their adoptive parents will make sure of that.

When Nick's rebellious ways place Celeste in danger, she is forced to seek safety in the Midwest. As if the familial alienation isn't enough, she's tormented by her forbidden desire for Tristan, The Realm's supreme warrior. With her future uncertain and her past shattered, she follows in her biological father's footsteps and joins law enforcement. 

As the lead investigator on several bizarre child abduction cases, Celeste soon discovers that bullets and modern weaponry will not stop these criminals, and that a war is brewing with the renegade vampires. Celeste joins Tristan, her parents, and the rest of The Realm to destroy the renegade vampires once and for all.

Leseprobe

CamCat Publishing, LLC

Brentwood, Tennessee 37027

camcatpublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

© 2020 by Debra S. Woodling

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address 101 Creekside Crossing Suite 280 Brentwood, TN 37027.

Hardcover ISBN 9780744302028

Paperback ISBN 9780744303964

Large-Print Paperback ISBN 9780744300635

eBook ISBN 9780744322736

Audiobook ISBN 9780744302059

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020938163

Cover design by Maryann Appel

5 3 1 2 4

The Immortal Twin

A Paranormal Romance

D. B. Woodling

In Memoriam

All my beloved departed friends awaiting me

on the Rainbow Bridge

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Epilogue

For Further Discussion

Real World Inspiration

Acknowledgments

About the Author

More from CamCat Books

The Brighter the Stars

Chapter 1

I don’t remember the bomb blast that brought down the upper floors of the Kansas City Courthouse in 1997, but because of Bianca and one of her many special abilities, I now have a simulated memory of all the horror, chaos, and death that took place. Renegade vampires—or the Harvesters, as Bianca called them—perpetuated the savage carnage. They were amphibian-like creatures whose translucent membranes exposed throbbing black veins and glossy pock-marked bones while their demented crimson eyes pulsated like tacky neon signs—the pulsations possibly a form of herd communication. Capable of phenomenal speed, they soared through the air, their movements impossible to track with the human eye. Recalling how their knifelike fangs dripped a gooey bile substance while exsanguinating the mortals who had survived the blast sent a pronounced shiver down my spine.

“They will always be after you to snare your father,” Bianca warned. Her usual flamboyant cheeriness was lost while accessing my private thoughts.

I returned my biological mother’s photograph to the table, perhaps a bit too harshly. I had wanted nothing more than to recall the few memories I had of her, but now I decided this would be best accomplished once I was out of Bianca’s clairvoyant radar. Today, after all, was the anniversary of the bombing.

“Tell me, darling, why is it you have those miserable traitors on your mind?” Her dark eyes turned darker, and she wagged a finger in my direction, her unfashionably long fingernail bringing to mind a miniature dagger. “It is best your thoughts never stray to such a formidable enemy.”

“Why is that? Can the Harvesters read minds?” I asked as a chill once again wreaked havoc throughout my body.

“Yes, most undoubtedly.” She threw frigid arms around me, afterwards lifting my chin and searching my eyes. “Know this, my darling: Those vile creatures desire Razvan’s extinction above all else! Both you and Nicholas will forever be their pawns.”

My twin brother Nick and I were only four years old when our parents died in the explosion. Memories of them too are a little fuzzy. Nick told me once he has never forgotten them, yet he didn’t volunteer that information until after Razvan and Bianca Torok—commanders of the Realm’s East Coast Coalition—told us they weren’t our biological parents. So typical of charismatic Nick, the mysterious, secretive one.

The Toroks came clean the year my brother and I should have begun school. We’d become somewhat skeptical long before the physical disparities fed our suspicions. For starters, Razvan has thick black hair while Bianca flaunts vibrant auburn locks. Both Nick and I have blond hair, although to be fair, his calls to mind sunlight and wild daffodils while some have compared mine to dirty dishwater. Our eyes are blue, so different from the Toroks’distinct deep-set black orbs—their pupils surrounded by a golden halo, sporadically framed with a bloody blush when tempers flared—which should have been yet another aha moment. I followed Bianca into a kitchen the size of a school auditorium, yet mine were the only footsteps echoing throughout the eerily quiet manor, and it wasn’t because she was barefoot.

I took a seat at the enormous marble island and watched as she struggled with the ritual of cooking, one of the few things at which she did not excel. Maybe she had at one time, centuries ago, when her daily sustenance and that of Razvan’s included traditional food. I studied her eyes as she attempted a simple grilled cheese sandwich. Her heavy-handed application of eyeliner always brought Egyptian culture to mind; it’s no surprise she insists she once taught Cleopatra a thing or two. Everyone assumes Cleo was Egyptian, but she was the last of the Greek Dynasty to rule Egypt, Bianca had offered more than once.

She set the blood-red, gold-rimmed china before me and slung her long hair behind her shoulders. Leaning across the wide counter between us, after displaying a dazzling smile, she said, “Cleo was quite homely without a little magic. Alas, the poor wretch.”

I often wonder if she pities me in much the same way. Bianca possesses the level of beauty that stops traffic and turns heads. The only time I’d ever stopped traffic occurred while chasing a ball into the street. I cringe when asked if Nick and I are really twins because I know they’re wondering how one can one be so perfect and the other such a dud. I looked away in my struggle to swallow a second mouthful, wondering how she could possibly burn the bread without melting the cheese.

She drifted toward the refrigerator, and I took the opportunity to hide the remainder of the sandwich in a monogrammed napkin. Across the room one nanosecond, and standing before me the next, she’d returned with a bottle of water. “Sorry, my darling, of course, you require something to quench your thirst. At times, I forget the mortal inconveniences. Has Nick decided who will accompany him to prom?”

I arched a brow and resisted narrowing my eyes. “As if you don’t know.”

“This may come as a surprise, Celestine, but I don’t always know what Nick is thinking.”

That was probably a good thing. Undoubtedly, Nick’s private thoughts were comparable to an R-rated comedy. He was considered the hottest guy in Madison High School. Nick never had to ask anyone to prom. Five of the most popular girls, all cheerleaders, had already begged him. And I was confident, mostly because Drew Dandridge blushed and detoured around me, that Nick had persuaded the team’s quarterback to ask me to prom. To my surprise, Warren Flaherty beat him to it.

“Do not waste your time on that lubberwort,” Bianca said suddenly, her cobalt stare demanding my full attention.

I’d heard the bygone expression many times, usually when Bianca discussed my friends, and I immediately grew defensive. “Warren is not lazy, Mom. He’s always working.”

“My darling, Celeste! He is most certainly lazy, and the few thoughts in his head are not his, rather mere imitations of popular opinion. I suspect he was a mynah bird in another lifetime.”

“Aubrey says he’s not so bad,” I said before thinking it through.

Bianca puffed her cheeks and blew out a Romanian insult. “What does Aubrey know?”

I felt my face flush. Heated words defending my only real friend gathered on the tip of my tongue.

“What do you have against Aubrey?”

“She’s the albatross around your neck. Aside from that, darling, I have nothing against her.”

My scalp was tingling now too, the way it always did when Bianca insulted Aubrey. I chewed the insides of both cheeks, knowing a verbal battle with Bianca was unwise.

“Just because she doesn’t plan to go to some big university is no reason to hate her, Mom.”

“Am I left to assume Aubrey has no collegiate plans?”

I kept quiet, realizing Bianca hadn’t found this out yet.

Bianca’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Aha, just as I presumed! Her expectations are limited to owning the latest fashion and bedding the football player possessing the most proficient anatomy.” Her eyes flashed, and the oxygen temporarily left the room.

I attempted to shake off my growing resentment because I knew, deep down, most everything she’d said about Aubrey was the truth.

“Can we not talk about Aubrey or Warren?”

Whooshing around the kitchen island, before my eyes could even begin to follow, she wrapped an icy arm around my shoulders.

“You are a promising young woman. Why can’t you see that? You mustn’t settle for someone the likes of Warren Flaherty.”

“I’ve already told him I’ll go,” I said just as Yesenia floated in from the expansive hallway. “Thanks for lunch, Mom.” I hugged her and hurried past Yesenia—a fifteenth-century vampiress stuck in her thirties. To outsiders, she was Bianca’s personal assistant. To those within the household and throughout the coalition, she was the Realm’s trusted advisor. To me, she was a malicious, self-serving witch. Because her loathing for me had only increased over the years, I swept around her quickly toward the winding wrought-iron staircase that led to my room.

Chapter 2

I watched as Nick swaggered into the school lunchroom shadowed by his harem of five. He slung himself quickly into the seat beside mine as though afraid someone else might claim it. His vivid blue eyes squinted in my direction, and it was easy to understand why so many swore they could get lost in them.

I rolled myown blue eyes and scowled when Emily, Kaitlin, Amie, Brianna, and Olivia fought over the chair to his right.

Judging from the look in her eyes, Kaitlin contemplated removing me from Nick’s left; I’d seen her pull that stunt on most of the other girls before. Nick ignored the chaos and faced me.

“I get the impression you haven’t made your decision about prom yet,” I said with a nod toward the power struggle in play to his right.

Nick grinned, and I wondered how on earth his teeth could be that white. He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “Actually, yeah, I have; I just like to watch them squirm.”

I fisted his bicep but resisted a grin of my own. “You’re such a jerk.”

He cursed under his breath, pretending I’d caused him real pain, then suddenly furrowed his brows.

“You think Dadcula had anything to do with the timing of the graduation ceremony?”

I puffed my cheeks and glared. “Knock it off, Nick. You know how I hate it when you call him that.”

As a young boy, shortly after the Toroks took us in, Nick openly idolized Razvan and accepted him as our father. Now he seemed to despise him.

I counted the number of times his jaw flinched before his expression softened; the combativeness left his eyes, swapped for the typical empathy he always reserved for me, his pathetic twin. “We don’t owe them anything, Celeste.” Nick glanced over his shoulder. Satisfied the girls were engaged in a new argument and oblivious to anything else, he added, “If it weren’t for freaks like them, our real parents might have survived that day.”

We’d had this conversation before, and I knew any response from me wouldn’t change his mind. Maybe I’d made a mistake when I pleaded Bianca and Razvan to spare Nick the vision they’d revealed to me. They referred to it as going inside the Circle—a ridiculous label for something about as far removed from innocuous as a bolt of lightning. With their combined preternatural capabilities, Razvan and Bianca induced in their victim, willing or otherwise, a trance-like state, revealing anything they wished them to see. I’d always thought a better label for the Circle might have been the Time Machine, because that’s essentially what they accomplished: transporting one either back in time or propelling them into the future. I blew out a fitful exhalation.

Maybe Nick witnessing the bombing firsthand as I had would have made all the difference. I didn’t intend to tell Nick, but I was aware that the Toroks had everything to do with the commencement’s time change. To express their gratitude for moving the ceremony from 5 p.m. to 8 p.m., the Toroks would fulfill their promise and contribute to Madison High School’s renovations. This entailed an updated gymnasium to include new bleachers and sports equipment; a state-of-the-art computer lab; an auditorium twice the size of the current one, offering posh velvet seating, dressing rooms, an orchestra pit, and gilded balconies as well as a stage floor equipped with a trap door, ironically referred to as a Vampire Trap.

I touched Nick’s arm softly and ritually traced the long five-year-old scar which extended from his bicep to his hand. He stopped me, as he usually did, but I knew from his expression that he understood how grateful I would always be to Razvan for saving his life one horrible night. I never mention his attacker—the werewolf, Vykoka—around Nick, not anymore. But we’re both aware he’s still out there and that he commands the majority of the werewolves on the east coast. After the injuries Nick sustained that night, he has never run away again.

“Nick! My man,” shouted Brandon, a Neanderthal so feared he confidently and routinely strutted around school flashing disturbing spandex boxers and a tooth-barred, ominous smile with a full set of braces accentuated by tiny smiling skulls on nauseatingly full display. His voice reverberated throughout the cafeteria, causing a hush to settle over the entire room. To infer Brandon Closter was subdued was like insisting a candy bar belongs in the five food groups. “I knew if I found you, I’d find the hot babes,” he told Nick. Then he snickered, more a growl really, as he picked up Emily and the chair she occupied, tilted it, and laughed as she spilled out.

“Asshole!” Emily snarled as she launched a knockoff Louboutin stiletto at his shin.

Nick unsuccessfully hid a grin. “You’ll never get a date that way.” He got to his feet and pulled Brandon aside. “You keep that shit up and the coach will kick your ass off the team.”

Brandon puffed out his chest. “I’d like to see him try.”

Nick’s laughter rang insincere. “No, you wouldn’t, asshole. Take it from me.”

“I’m out of here,” I told my brother and made a run for it. I collided with Aubrey as I rounded the corner.

“No friggin’ way! Don’t tell me you’re leaving.” She groaned and let her books slide to the ground, then dropped her arms to her sides. “Come on! I need some pizza.”

“Sorry, but the caveman showed up and ruined my appetite.”

“Brandon?”

“Who else? He’s practically extinct, thank God.”

“What have I told you about opening your mind to new adventures? I’ve heard when he shuts his mouth, he’s not so bad.”

“And I’d rather not know what it takes to achieve that miracle.”

Aubrey laughed and twirled a hoop earring that she sometimes wore as a bangle.

“What’s with the basketball hoops? Aren’t you afraid you might catch those on something?”

She rammed her hip against mine. “Afraid? Good God, girl! I’m surprised you don’t run screaming from your own shadow. Live a little, Celeste. Life is too short for what-friggin’-ifs.”

She was right about that. I’m hopeful, but I often doubt Aubrey will live to thirty. “I’m only making an observation.”

“Yeah? Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to try a little harder. If I lived at that mansion with Tristan dropping in all the time, I’d sure as hell try to look like a runway model seven days a week.”

My spine stiffened in response to her description of our house. Although the four-story monstrosity occupied one acre, swallowing up the majority of the land, the customary reference to the Torok home as a mansion never failed to make me uncomfortable. It was a difficult thing to deny. Aubrey’s reference to Tristan only amplified my anxiety.

“Why’s he always at your house anyway?”

“He does stuff for my dad,” I said. “You know that, Aubrey.”

“What does he do?”

I shrugged my shoulders. Whenever Razvan slid the pocket doors to his study closed, I’d always resisted the temptation to place my ear against the thick mahogany. Partially out of respect. Mostly out of consequence. I knew by Aubrey’s intense stare that she expected some sort of response.

But how does one tell one’s best friend that the class valedictorian, with the bizarre syntax who wears a hoodie regardless of the temperature, first walked the earth long before Jesus had?

Whatever he did for my father, he accomplished after dark, and it sure as hell didn’t involve conventional assignments. I fought to refocus as Aubrey impatiently shifted her weight.

All I could come up with was: “How should I know?”

“Are you into him?”

“No,” I lied, stammering unconvincingly.

“Bullshit! You are!”

Defiant, I locked both arms against my chest. “I told you, he works for my dad!”

“Okay, let’s say that’s true. And if it is, you shouldn’t mind if I make a move.”

“Knock yourself out!” I grabbed her by the arm, unconsciously digging in a fingernail or two. “Just not at the freaking house.”

“Why not?”

“Seriously, Aubrey? Bianca will freak out.”

“Why?”

I chewed my bottom lip and kept quiet.

“She doesn’t like me, does she?”

“She thinks . . .” I took a deep breath and may have briefly squeezed both eyes shut. “She thinks you’re a sex fiend.”

Aubrey laughed, observing me out of the corner of one eye.

“You know what I think? I think she doesn’t want any competition. Because she’s interested in him. Maybe that’s why Tristan’s always at your house.”

“Oh, my God! Do you know how disgusting that is? You’re talking about my mom, Aubrey!” I thought about something I’d seen earlier in the day. Surprising them in the kitchen, I caught Tristan and Yesenia involved in some intense fondling. Thinking about it now, my pulse quickened, and I was convinced sweat now dotted my forehead. “Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between him and Yesenia.”

“Who’s she? Your maid?”

I swallowed past the lie spilling from my lips. “She’s my mom’s personal assistant. Besides, what difference does it make?”

Aubrey stomped one foot and served me an impish smile. “Damn it, I knew I should have seduced him by now!”

“Oh, God,” I muttered and rolled my eyes at the ceiling.

“So how old is this Yesenia?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Older than the two of us, I guess.” Yesenia was much older. According to Bianca, she’d courtedboth Julius Caesar and Marcus Antonius. Aubrey would need over two thousand years to perfect the kind of feminine wiles Yesenia held in her arsenal.

That night, Bianca took me shopping for my prom dress. It’d been some time since I’d made the trip from New Jersey to New York, and I assumed, mostly because of the way Bianca kept smiling, my excitement was palpable. Climbing from the limo, I took Bianca’s cue and assumed the lead. Bianca was lagging far enough behind that the store associates greeted me with a disinterested once-over, changing their attitudes drastically once they recognized Bianca Torok, the socialite.

“Let me guess,” Bianca teased me, “the gown one might choose to wear on an expedition.”

“Why? Because it’s green?”

Bianca tapped a fingernail against her cheek, examining the gown I had chosen. “Is it? I thought it brown, although come to think of it, it does bring a swamp to mind.” She grabbed both my hands and pulled me toward her, then away, as if we’d found ourselves in a senior citizens’ ballroom rather than a posh department store. “Oh, darling, the red taffeta is much more becoming! Why would you want to cover your body in that insufferable fabric?” she asked, nodding toward my selection. “Never mind the absolute lack of style! It looks as if something a toad might wear.”

“Mom, you promised,” I managed through clenched teeth.

“Yes, yes, I know I did. But darling, I merely want you to find yourself the belle of the ball.”

I blurted out laughter. In my defense, it erupted involuntarily, like a fart in church. “And you honestly think a dress is going to make all the difference?”

Bianca pulled me close and whispered, “It will certainly shine a light on my brilliant star.”

“Fine, I’ll reconsider, but it’s not going to be the red taffeta.”

“But darling, why not?”

“Because I don’t intend to look like a hooker.”

“What, pray tell, is a hooker?”

I had to think about it for a moment and take into consideration Bianca’s limited grasp of current slang.

“A courtesan. A Mata Hari.”

Bianca’s hand flew over one breast.

Soon after, she shared explosive laughter. I scanned the store, aware that all eyes were now upon us.

“Exactly my point. Maybe now you can understand that is not the response I want when I walk into prom.”

“Oh my good God, Celeste! In my time, you would have positively starved. Men ruled the world, and with an iron fist, I might add. A young maid’s only salvation was the hope of attracting a well-to-do mate.”

“Mom, attracting a mate is the farthest thing from my mind. Right now, the only thing I want to find is a dress we can both agree on.”

“Of course! How I do rattle on. Consider my point moot. How fortunate you were to be born into a time of grand possibilities, Celeste!” She drew me close and studied my eyes for what seemed like a long time. “You can have whatever pleases you. I just can’t believe how much time has passed.”

“Me either.” I squeezed her hand as I thought how much I loved her.

“And I adore you, Celestine,” she whispered in my ear as she handed me her credit card. “You were truly a gift.”

Upon leaving Bloomingdale’s department store, located in the heart of Manhattan, we planned to celebrate our compromise over dinner. Instead of the red taffeta gown, we agreed on a sapphire-colored one, embellished with far too many sequins. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I lugged it through the revolving doors toward the limousine and a chauffeur, who was compensated handsomely for his patience.

“I so enjoy the energy here,” Bianca said as the limousine, per Bianca’s instruction, detoured past Central Park, Times Square, Carnegie Hall, and Rockefeller Center. “It’s positively electric!”

Once seated comfortably inside the Ocean Prime restaurant, off 52nd Street, I placed my order. Bianca, as usual, convinced the waiter she was dieting.

I wrinkled my nose as the overwhelming flavors of grapefruit, lime, and elderflower from my nonalcoholic margarita assaulted my taste buds.

“You react like this every time,” Bianca said behind a grin. “Why don’t you order something else?”

I shivered involuntarily. “It’s usually perfect. But, for some reason, this one is just so bitter,” I said, scrunching my face and sticking out my tongue.

Bianca waved her napkin through the air, and the waiter came running. “Please bring my daughter something else,” she said, nodding at the glass between us.

He cocked an eyebrow my way. “Of course, Miss. What will it be?”

“I’ll have a sweet tea,” I said, ignoring the glint of contempt I saw in his eyes.

“As you wish,” he said and hurried off.

“Your friend Aubrey has been paying a lot of attention to Tristan,” Bianca said with a sniff.

It sounded more like a warning than casual conversation.

“Oh?” I said, deciding ignorance was the best possible defense.

“Yes, indeed. It’s pathetic, the way she looks at him! Her eyes seem to devour every inch!”

I assumed a half-shrug and looked away.

“Have I told you the story of Tristan and Servilia Caepionis?”

I shook my head. She twisted the rings on her fingers and appeared to be having second thoughts; she would probably offer little more or a censored version.

A wicked smile trespassed her lips, and the gleam in her eyes suggested a delicious revelation.

“Ah, Servilia! Her eye wandered more often than did an unwelcome leper. Those she fancied, she invited to her private chambers. One night, crawling from a terribly crowded bed, Tristan—the sole male occupant, by the way—discovered his untamed ways could very well be the end of him.”

“Mom, everyone will hear you!”

“I hardly think so, my darling.”

My eyes followed hers as she glanced about the restaurant. Everyone, aside from Bianca and me, appeared frozen in time. Customers sat rigid like works of stone, most of them with forks perched near their mouths. Not an eye blinked in our direction, nor did a lip move to allow a scream to escape or even a mortified gasp. My mouth hung open, forming a perfect “O.”

“Alas, poor Tristan,” she continued as if nothing had happened.

“My God! Mom, what did you do to them?” I bolted upright, unsure how to react.

Bianca flicked her wrist. “Not to worry. Merely a little deception we either refer to as In Mora Temporis or In Silentium. Now, may I continue?”

I chewed my lip while attempting to recall the little Latin I knew. “What does it mean?”

Bianca sighed. “To translate would be to say the Pause of Time or the Silence. Time as we know it stands still—is altered if you will.”

“Will they be all right?” I said, still unable to take my eyes off the statue-like people around me.

“Of course, darling! Have you ever known me to cause harm to the undeserved? Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Tristan was ordered to be beheaded the next morning.”

“By who? Servilia?” I asked, suddenly drawn back into the conversation.

“Most definitely not Servilia! I’m quite certain Tristan had enthralled her by that point. It was Julius Caesar who demanded Tristan’s capture and his head on a platter. Understandably, he did not appreciate Tristan seducing his mistress. And that was the last day Tristan occupied this earth as a mortal.” Her words trailed off, and her smile disappeared.

“So, who saved him? Was it you?”

Bianca shook her head. “Perhaps we should have told you this long ago.”

I gulped, the sound becoming amplified in the eerily quiet restaurant. “Oh God. What?”

“His father saved him.”

“His father?”

She was looking at me now, as if picking my brain, deciding whether or not I could survive what she was about to reveal.

“Yes . . . Razvan.”

My hand flew to my mouth. I thought I might vomit.

“I can’t believe you’ve never told me this! So, this means you’re his mother?”

She shook her head. “I would have told you some time ago, but the story was not mine to tell. Although your father and I have recently agreed, it is time you were made aware. All things considered.”

I had a feeling that by all things considered she meant my infatuation with Tristan. Of course, she had to know; I rarely thought of anything but him.

She graced me with a sly grin.

“It is quite the day for you, my darling. A new dress and a new brother to boot.”

I narrowed my eyes, then just as quickly attempted to disguise my feelings.

“Well, it’s not as if we’re genetically related.”

“A discussion for another time, my pet,” she said, patting my hand. “Let us not spoil such a wonderful evening.”

I relented and changed the subject. “Did I see Dad leave with Nick earlier?”

Bianca nodded and hid sad eyes behind a full wine glass.

“That sounds promising! I’m so glad they’re spending time together.” Now, she seemed angry rather than sad and I realized my choice of conversation was suboptimal.

“We have done all we can for your brother, Celestine. I’m certain you’re all too aware of the sacrifices we’ve made!”

“I know,” I managed to murmur past the lump in my throat.

“It’s not as if we could take him to a therapist,” she suddenly blurted.

I choked on a laugh and spewed my first bite of lobster mac and cheese all over the pristine tablecloth.

She threw her head back and laughed.

“Can you imagine, Celestine: the entire family snatched up by a panic-stricken regime, then delivered to scientists for archaic experimentation?” Her expression quickly turned serious again, the crease between her brows deeper than I’d ever seen it. “We don’t expect Nick to accept us or even love us, but we do expect respect and a decent disposition.”

“I know.” Feeling some allegiance toward my brother, I resisted telling her I would never understand why the only sentiment Nick felt toward them was a fierce loathing.

Bianca left her side of the booth and joined me on mine.

“Particularly when your father disregarded the oath he took, nearly two hundred years ago, upon our arrival in New Jersey.”

“What oath?” This was the first time she’d shared this information. Salivating over the possibilities, I tossed my fork aside and gave her my full attention.

“To simplify it, Vykoka had agreed to keep his pack outside a one-hundred-mile radius of Fremont, henceforth considered Torok Territory. In turn, your father agreed to the safety of the pack inside the township of Wilshire, an approximate one-hundred-fifty-mile circumference.”

I thought about my own experience years ago. “But that night I lost my way at summer camp, what about that?”

“The attack on you, Celeste, was due to anarchy within Vykoka’s pack. Not only did Simeon fail to become the pack’s leader, but Vykoka ordered his destruction for disregarding the oath.”

“So, the night Nick ran away and ended up in Wilshire, the pack considered him fair game?”

“Yes. And because of your brother’s insubordination, we lost a few of our own that night; your father was nearly destroyed too. The oath dissolved, this placed both the werewolves and the Realm in great jeopardy.”

I remembered the night when members of the Realm rescued Nick; I was standing outside his room waiting for the coalition’s physician to finish suturing the long laceration on his arm. My father retreated to his bedroom for nearly two weeks. Sometimes, I could hear him through the double doors, instructing various people on who knows what. Bianca had been distracted—almost in a fog, worried, and she avoided Nick altogether for a long time after. Ever since, every time she looked at him, her expression changed; mostly the look in her eyes. She never appeared mad or disappointed, just indifferent.

I thought back to the events that led up to the attack, more specifically, the reason Nick ran away, threatening he’d never return. Angry with Razvan at the time for forbidding me to attend a sleepover, I wanted an ally. I told Nick about my experience with Simeon, the werewolf. But it was the revelation involving the Circle that ultimately destroyed the relationship between Nick and the Toroks; the description of my firsthand account of the horrific bombing and what came after.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I said now, although I assumed she’d known all along. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You were a child, Celeste. I’m sure had you realized the implications of your actions, you would have made another decision.”

“But Nick was a child, too,” I whispered.

She didn’t respond. I watched her eyes glaze over, and everything came to life in the restaurant: the sounds of silverware clattering against plates, servers bustling about, and the buzz of robust conversations. I exhaled enormous relief and settled comfortably in my chair.

Once we were seated in the limousine, I said, “Can all of you perform In Silentium . . . ? If I’m even pronouncing it right.”

She patted my hand, then shook her head.

“Not all of us, for it depends on the Maker. Only those given the Adaptation by one of the ancients inherit this power.”

“And Razvan?”

“Of course, darling. One of the many reasons I was attracted to him from the onset. Aside from his fetching physical appearance, I found your father’s abilities irresistible,” she said followed by a coquettish giggle.

Chapter 3

While sitting in Social Studies and debating the legitimacy of an ancient Indian curse placed on our country’s future presidents, I noticed Nick signal me from the hallway.

Because of his urgent expression, I vaulted from my seat and asked permission to leave the room.

“What’s wrong?” I sputtered and searched his eyes for a clue as I stepped into the hallway.

Nick handed me a hall pass, no doubt it was one he'd forged from the stolen stack in his locker. He jerked his head toward my fourth-period teacher, Mrs. Lynch, who appeared nearly as anxious for an explanation. 

“What’s wrong?” I insisted a second time, ignoring his instruction.

“We’ve got to go. Give her the pass!”

A few minutes later, with my backpack and a few books in hand, I sprinted past him toward the nearest exit.

“Hold on!” Nick called from behind. “Drop that shit in your locker.”

When I turned back, he’d already successfully opened it.

“Wait, how do you know my combination?”

His cocky expression convinced me he considered me intellectually inferior. He jerked my belongings from my hands and tossed them inside, their harsh landing echoing down the long hallway.

“Come on!” He barked, tugging me along.

When we reached the car, I folded my arms across my chest, refusing to get inside.

“I’m not going unless you tell me what’s going on!”

Nick marched around the car, opened my door, and pushed me inside. “Trust me, Celeste, for once in your friggin’ life.”

Steering the car successfully around a few students who were absorbed in thoughts of grand illusion, no doubt, he exited the parking lot.

I leaned across the console and grabbed his elbow.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He grinned sideways, and I suddenly realized I’d enabled a truant.

“So, you forged the hall pass? And there’s no emergency?”

He winked in my direction. “There’s hope for you yet.”

“You’re such an asshole, Nick!”

“What’s the matter, Celeste? Your life just gonna fall apart without that Perfect Attendance Award?”

I jammed my arms across my chest and stomped my feet a few times.

“Poor Celeste,” he taunted, imitating a pronounced pout. “She isn’t going to get her shiny, wittle, gold star.”

“Shut up, Nick! And for your information, it’s not little, and it’s a trophy!”

“Oh, a trophy! Were they going to engrave your wittle name on it too?” he asked, still laughing.

“Where are we going? And why do you need me?”

Brushing a clump of hair from his face, his eyes quickly searched mine. “Okay look, it’s our senior year. I just thought we could spend the afternoon together.”

“That’s what weekends are for!”

“Maybe yours. I’ve always got plans.”

“You mean, things more important than spending time with your sister.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he detoured onto Garden State Parkway, and even though I knew he planned to keep the destination one big fat secret, I gave it another shot.

He turned toward me, his blue eyes gleaming.

“I’ll give you a hint: What’s big, wet, gray all over, and spouts off more than you do?”

I only hoped he didn’t realize my excitement! Whale watching was something I’d enjoyed for as long as I could remember. I’d always thought the creatures an enigma: enormous yet graceful.

Nick leaned over the console and flicked my hand. “So, you figure it out yet?”

“I’m not stupid,” I said without so much as a smile. I wasn’t ready to let Nick off the hook.

“Or, apparently, grateful. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

“What do you mean?”

Nick arched a brow and swept his attention from the road.

“How many times have we been to Cape May?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Five, maybe.”

He shook his head. “Double that. And how many times have you seen a whale?”

“Once,” I said, smiling at my reflection in the side mirror as a vivid memory struck me.

“So, like I said: Don’t get your hopes up.”

I felt his astute stare and kept quiet, still unwilling to confess my happiness.

“Bet that shiny trophy’s pretty lame now.”

“We had better see a whale, Nick.”

He whipped into the parking lot. My lunch ricocheted off the walls of my stomach as he brought the car to an abrupt stop. Five minutes later, once he’d produced a credit card Razvan told him to use only in case of emergencies, he impatiently ushered me aboard the Cape May-Lewes Ferry.

An hour into our three-hour excursion of the bay and the Atlantic, Nick dug into his back pocket, pulled out a tube, and slathered my face with a malodourous lotion, the container touting an insultingly high SPF.

“Borrowed it from your boyfriend,” he teased.

Convinced he meant Tristan, I wrinkled my nose in protest.

“Shit, Celeste. You look like a dead chicken. You ever see the sun?” Before I could answer, he whispered in my ear, “You’re not one of them, are you?”

I jerked away and rubbed the pasty mess in myself.

He rolled his eyes, clearly disproving of my technique.

“Seriously, you already look like a freaking lobster. Remember when every time you’d get near the ocean, you’d puke?” he asked, laughing as a misty breeze off the Atlantic ruffled his perfect hair.

“I never did that.”

His blue eyes were dancing now; his smile attracting the attention of every female under the age of ninety. “The hell, you didn’t! Just the sight of fish made you gag.”

“Un-uh,” I uttered like I was five years old.

Without warning, he slipped an arm around my shoulders.

“We’ve had some good times.”

“And some not-so-good.”

He jerked his arm free. “Let’s not go there.”

Because Nick actually wanted to spend time with me, something that didn’t happen very often anymore, I rerouted the conversation immediately.

“Remember the time you stole the yacht?”

Nick thumped my shoulder and laughed along with me.

“I didn’t exactly steal it, just kinda borrowed it for an extended length of time.”

“All day, Nick.”

“What are you griping about? That little exploit boosted your popularity for a day or two.”

I shook my head. “Guilt by association only goes so far. And besides, you kidnapped me, basically, kind of like today.”

He chuckled and then grew serious. “Do you ever think about them?”

“Mom and Dad?”

Nick nodded and turned away, gazing out at the ocean.

“Sometimes,” I offered, the word hanging in the air. Then I laughed softly. “I remember the times they’d read us a bedtime story: Dad impersonating all of the characters while Mom . . .”

“. . . just sat there smiling at him like . . .”

“. . . he was the most important thing in the world,” we both said in unison.

The craft suddenly shifted viciously to the left, nearly capsizing. Uprooted from my seat, Nick caught me as I tumbled headfirst toward the port side. He locked one arm around my waist, the other onto the handrail as screams filled the air. The sky turned dark as the other passengers fought the pull of gravity.

Chapter 4

Of course, Nick and I were the only ones aware of the supernatural phenomenon surrounding us.

“She knows we ditched class!” Nick yelled over the crashing waves.

I shook my drenched head and spat water.

“Bianca wouldn’t do this. Think about it, Nick!” I shouted, spitting up brine.

Dark shadows passed overhead and obscured the sun in its entirety. Nick and I turned our attention to the sky, while the rest of the passengers aboard the Cape May-Lewes either hugged one another or their life preservers. Malevolent forms skyrocketed into the atmosphere, diving in and out of clouds, representing something far more malignant than meteorological changes or a newly discovered seabird. I clutched Nick’s hand as the creatures multiplied and swarmed the horizon.

Over the passengers’ screams and the Captain shouting words of encouragement, I barely heard the shrill, chilling screeches of the Harvesters. A deadly battle was in progress miles overhead, and Nick and I had little choice but to cling to each another and trust the Torok Realm to keep us safe. The craft rocked sharply to the opposite side and began taking on more water. A few passengers failed to maintain a tight enough grip, and the angry waves tossed them toward the starboard side of the ferry. Thrashing about and screaming, a woman sailed overhead, then disappeared within a turbulent sea.

Nick guided both of my hands onto the handrail, snugged my life preserver tight, and turned his attention to the woman bobbing sporadically above the water while struggling against the waves. Realizing his intention to go in after her, I latched onto him.

“Let go, Celeste!” he yelled, the waves drowning out most of the syllables. Nick pried himself free despite my determination to never let go of him. With one foot on the deck and the other on the rail, he prepared to vault overboard just as a dark specter plucked the drowning woman from the water and soared overhead. Nick turned to face me, eyes wide, his mouth agape. He and I seemed to be the only ones who had witnessed another paranormal event. Returning to his seat, he pulled me close but avoided my eyes. I sensed he was afraid; a phenomenon in and of itself. He would never admit fear, and I would never ask him to verify my suspicion.

“Janet,” a man cried out from the portside. I recognized the gut-wrenching panic reflected in his eyes and easily identified the absolute terror in his voice. Losing his balance as he attempted to cross the boat, he slid toward us, feet first.

Nick managed to grab him before he skimmed through the guardrail. When neither of us could restrain him, Nick pleaded for anyone’s assistance, but the other passengers either ignored him or were perhaps too afraid to move.

“She’s gone! There’s nothing you can do!” Nick told the old man again. Inconsolable, he stopped resisting. His body went limp, and he slumped onto the deck, defeated.

Once slivers of sunlight began to reach the deck, I assumed the skirmish overhead was nearing an end. I squinted into a choking fog and caught sight of the sky. Only a few dozen phantoms remained engaged in battle, and swirling ever higher, their piercing cries hinted at vicious collisions. Either the other passengers misinterpreted the noise, or the unworldly sounds fell on deaf ears.

The captain continued his battle with the waves, his broad, muscular forearms heaving the wheel to keep the ferry moving against the swell. Huge surges were no longer breaking against the hull, and with one more violent rock, the vessel shifted upright maintaining the center of buoyancy. While the captain assured his passengers that the ferry remained seaworthy, Nick and I exchanged a look, and I knew he too was confident that the Realm had claimed another victory. Those passengers no longer in a state of shock scrambled to their seats and stared blankly at the ocean, as if grasping for a logical explanation. If only Nick and I could possess such glorious naivety.

Within minutes, members of the crew wrestled themselves into diving suits before plunging into the inky waters of the Atlantic, in search of the woman swept overboard. Before all the men had submerged, the Coast Guard arrived, and the ship’s crew happily relinquished their search. The waves slapping the sides of the craft and the low drone of the motor were the only sounds heard as the captain steered the ferry toward the harbor.

When we arrived, Nick and I assisted the still-unsteady passengers onto the boardwalk before starting toward the empty parking lot. I trudged behind him a good ten paces, catching up once he’d stopped to light a cigarette.

“Nick, do you think . . .”

“. . . the Harvesters got to that guy’s wife?” He shook his head. “No, they would have taken more.”

“So, you think the Realm saved her?”

He delivered a curt nod, his jaw tightly set.

It’s true what they say about twins; Nick must have sensed that my anxiety level had increased. “Relax, Celeste. It’s over.”

“It’s not that. I don’t want to go back.”

He flashed his infamous grin.

“Afraid Dadcula’s gonna spank your ass?”