“That’s our brother,” I said as my lungs deflated.
“Lucian?” you asked with a touch of admiration.
“Vincent…” A million admissions were poised on the tip of my tongue, but you were practically vibrating with excitement.
“I want to meet him,” you said, as if it weren’t already obvious.
I resigned myself to this certain doom as a man slated for execution accepts his imminent death. We got out of the car and I called you over to me.
“Come here.” I opened my arms, and you threw yourself into my embrace. I gripped you tightly, dipping my head to scent your scalp as a way to ground myself. “Vincent, I…” Where would I even begin? “I love you.”
“I love you too,” you echoed, confused by my sudden outburst. I brushed my thumb against your soft lips and studied you. How selfish was it that I wanted you to always look at me with that same blind adoration? I’d never deserve you.
“I don’t think he’ll harm us,” I said, “not physically at least, but take the seat opposite him, and if you sense any danger or ill intent whatsoever, or if I give you the codeword, run.” I handed you the keys to the car. “In case I get held up. And remember our escape plans.”
With my hand at your back, we crossed the street and entered the restaurant, where I quickly scanned the patrons. The only demonic force I sensed was coming from Lucian, and it didn’t feel ominous or threatening. In fact, Lucian’s energy mirrored yours—anticipatory and excited.
He stood when he saw us, ever the gentleman. He stared coolly at me, perhaps in an attempt at intimidation, but when he saw you, he was transformed. A radiant smile lit up his handsome face, dazzling even to me. In all the ways I was rugged and unrefined, Lucian was sophisticated and polished. His features had been sought after in antiquity by sculptors wishing to capture the essence of male beauty. His fair hair and blue eyes had turned the heads of both powerful politicians and their wives. His name, Lucianus, meant light, and even now, with all that had transpired between us, his aura was intoxicating.
I took Lucian’s hand in a firm grip and pulled him close to whisper, “If you attempt to seduce him, I’ll make you regret it.”
His grin widened as he squeezed my shoulder. “Always a pleasure to see you, big brother.”
I then took the opportunity to frisk him. Rather than fight me, Lucian lifted his arms so that I could check inside his jacket, then pivoted slowly while I patted him down, still with a convivial smile on his face. Once I’d determined he was unarmed, I stood to the side so you could properly greet him. Little comfort it gave me. Lucian’s best weapon had always been his charm.
“Vincent,” Lucian said heartily and pulled you into a generous hug. I’d not seen that kind of affection from him in a long time. Was it only an act or was he truly happy to meet you?
“Hello,” you said shyly as he held you at arm’s length for a better look. You didn’t much resemble us, neither in appearance, nor in temperament. Lena’s ominous words came back to me then.
Anything can be used as a weapon, Andronicus. Even kindness, even compassion.
“I’ve heard so much about you from Mother that I feel like I know you already,” Lucian said warmly.
I wanted to assure him that he did not, in fact, know you. But I held my tongue and let this little family reunion play out.
“Me too,” you said with a hopeful yearning that made me ashamed of my possessiveness. Like it or not, he was our brother—flesh and blood. Family meant something different to you than it did to me. You were the only family I needed or desired, but I couldn’t expect the same from you.
Lucian gestured to the booth. I crowded him from the outside. We were both rather large, though Lucian was narrower in frame. The arrangement was awkward—especially with you sitting alone—but it meant Lucian wouldn’t be able to make any sudden moves.
When he wanted to be, Lucian was a master at the art of conversation, not only in putting his audience at ease, but in being effortlessly charming and having the ability to direct the topic precisely where he wished it to go. Once you’d spoken a bit about your life in Miami, Lucian shared with us his recent enterprises. He’d been involved with several tech companies in the 1990’s which were now providing a healthy return. He said his next investments would likely be in alternative energy and battery storage, which got you talking about the rapacious greed of the fossil fuel industry. Lucian pontificated on the importance of investing your capital in the causes you believed in, which I knew to mean bribing powerful people and funding Lena’s attempts at insurgency, though neither of those pursuits were discussed.
“And I had the opportunity to go to culinary school,” Lucian said with a winning smile.
“I love to bake.” You nudged my ankle playfully under the table, attempting to draw me into the conversation. I’d been casing the restaurant in the event Lucian had a party of fate demons standing by to abduct you.
“Well, with our very specialized diet, I simply can’t rely on human cuisine to properly satisfy my palate,” Lucian said.
What Lucian didn’t say was that he’d always had an appetite for human flesh, more so than even Lena or me. I could only hope his culinary delights had died of natural causes.
“I’m vegan,” you said proudly and perhaps a little bit to impress him. Lucian was enthusiastic about your decision and said that he himself had been trying to cut down on his cholesterol. I rolled my eyes. That gesture was my only contribution to the conversation. In response, you shot me a look that said,be nice.
Lucian then began reminiscing about our ancestral home, even going so far as to offer to take you there. That would certainly bemypleasure, not Lucian’s, and I didn’t appreciate him making promises within the first hour of meeting you. It reeked of false flattery and a weak attempt to ingratiate himself into your good graces, which could only mean he wanted something.
“If all you wanted was to catch up, Lucian, why go through the trouble of stalking us?” I said.And terrifying me in the process.
Lucian smiled brightly, then pivoted to address me directly. “You didn’t make it easy for me to find you, Henri. Miami is a big city, after all. And to be clear, I was looking for Vincent, not you. If I may speak plainly, I was worried you might try to hide him away from me.”
You glanced between the two of us, trying to decipher the source of our obvious rancor. I rarely spoke to you about him. Where would I even begin?
