I creep to the threshold on the tips of my toes to see who the bitch is talking to despite the strain in my legs. The angle doesn’t allow me to see who it is as she kneels in front of a large, leather wingback armchair as the stupid fucking bitch washes feet with age spots and no elasticity in their skin. An equally aged hand extends from the chair to stroke her hair back. “You are the last of those who stayed with me, but I mustn’t interfere. As you well know, Helene has power.” The hand stills. “You do not have to hide from me, my dear.”
Anna freezes, turning her head to look directly at me. Tears line her lashes, falling as she closes her eyes. I’ve been caught, so I walk out, but she makes me freeze in disgust as she dips her head to kiss the nasty fucking foot in her hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Each expression of her gratitude is bracketed with her lips moving in a curve over the top of the foot. That’s fucking revolting.
The hand on her head slowly slips back to rest within the confines of the armchair. “You may leave us.”
She lays a towel down on the floor before she walks backwards out of the room with the filthy water. I straighten my chin, clenching my jaw to hide my pain as I walk into the lounge. It’s warmer than the other parts of the house, but the woman in the armchair looks half dead. Her eyes are fully white to match her hair, and the curved armrests of the chair have the same markings as Helene’s house. It’s the same woman from Helene’s dinner. “There is no reason to fear me, my dear.”
“Who are you?”
“The mother of everything you fear,” she says. She may as well call herself the angel of death too, because that’s what she looks like. “Some monsters are created, like your mother. Some are born, like Helene—my daughter.”
“You gave birth tothat?”
“I did,” she admits, as though it’s not a crime against humanity. “She was always a special child, powerful beyond measure. She kept us hidden.”
“From what?” I inch closer, leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off my feet as those pure white eyes fix on me like she’s still able to see without pupils.
“Were you enlightened with the tale of two faces?”
I vaguely remember Kane spouting some shit about it, but I was distracted by a fucking rat and insects surrounding me in a death-inspired glory hole. I can’t exactly tell this 900-year-old woman that, so I shake my head.
She grips the curved edges of the armchair with her rakish fingers, proudly explaining, “Our family—one which you are now part of—devised a plan many years ago. They would create and control the most lucrative business to ever exist. In part, it was due to their own proclivities, yearning for a world in which they would fit in.”
I lower down the wall to sit with my legs extended out in front of me like a child at a twisted, cryptic story time.
“They split themselves, as two worlds cannot merge when created to be the polar opposite of one another,” she says. “A shadow self, their mirror image, would rule in one world while the other remained in this one. Two faces, one name, a defense against anyone who thought they could destroy what they created. Then, when Helene was growing within me, there was a terrible accident.”
She shakes her head, face pinching like she’s in pain as the wrinkled skin around her lips twists.
“A terrible, ungodly accident shattered the separation of the two worlds. Helene’s father was working within this world, as was his duty. In my years, I have never witnessed a torment befall us like that one. Helene’s father was the first to pass. Then her uncles.”
She takes in a shaky breath, and I don’t know what sorcery she’s done as I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she breathes heavily, “my dear. Allow me to continue.” She holds up her hand, her fingers remaining stuck together like they’re stitched. “Without the men in this world, the shadow selves revealed themselves. They came to our aid, assisted my sisters and I as we brought the next generation into power. Helene was born first, the first girl in generations.” She pauses before she snarls, “The first to be born without a shadow.”
“What’s a shadow?” I ask, dumb. “Like magic?”
“Oh, my dear, magic isn’t real. It’s what this world tells themselves when people find power. It’s easier for them to digest fallacies of the supernatural than admit their darkest desires. A shadow is an identical person who moves in time with them, created to follow everything they do like a reflection. Both worlds have always existed, we just found a way to contain ours, to hide within the shadows because no one ever examines them deeply.”
A twin.
Kane and Asher.
Lennox and Rowan.
“You see,” Melantha says, “although Helene was defective and unusable, she is more powerful than the others. When she became of age, she commanded everyone, took control of the Three.”
What the fuck is this story?
“Three families, each tasked with a special role to preserve the world we created.” She raises one boney finger. “The Kobalts are in control of them all.” Another finger is added. “One family angered the creator—they are now defunct.” She curls her finger down, raising a third. “The Lerouxs had a special penchant for medicine. My sister always excelled at playing with the dead. It was her most joyous hobby.”
“My family?” I whisper. “But I’m not related to Kane.”
Fuck no. I better fucking not be. He’s my everything. Without him I wouldn’t have remembered my baby’s face.
“Your great-grandmother was first wed to Helene’s uncle. She was not my sister by blood, but by bond. As you know, an unmarried woman of age is a burden, one your family eased.”
