Symphony of Light and Winter (25 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Breakfast

Once back upstairs, I hid in the bathroom for what seemed like forever. I heard the door open several times but if it was Cyril, he didn’t seek me out.

When finally safe to emerge, I found my things neatly piled in the room. The figurines from Michael were not present and my furniture was missing, but everything else was accounted for. It was easy to reconcile everything since I didn’t have much.

Not sure where to start looking for my clothes, I pulled on a fresh nightgown and climbed beneath the heavy white linens on the large bed and surprisingly, given the night’s drama, I fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning I was famished and decided to make my way to the kitchen. I hesitated a moment before opening the door. If he locked me in again, I’d make it my life goal to find a way to kill him. He was safe because the knob turned freely.

Those damned paintings.
There was something so familiar about the woman even though I never saw her face, just featured parts of her body. The pictures were tasteful but the mystery added a level of eroticism.

I was about to bound down the spiral staircase when something caught my eye. The painting was of the woman’s right hip. Her skin was flawless and cast in the bluish hue consistent across all the paintings, but what I saw stopped me in my tracks. On the woman’s right hip were three small freckles starting in her midback and ending at her hip. Either I had the same freckles as the woman or these paintings were of me. Had he really painted me? Was I jealous of myself? When could he have possibly painted them?

When I finally reached the kitchen, Overton was at the stove frying an egg. He looked up and smiled.

“Well, good morning.” He seemed not at all surprised I was still at the house.

I made my way to the breakfast nook surrounding the kitchen, and hoisted myself up on a stool. I was instantly distracted by Overton’s attire, or lack thereof. He was shirtless with loose-fitting black silk pajama pants. I never really took the time to appreciate just how beautiful Overton was. Cyril had chosen his host well. His hair, rumpled from sleep, gave him an innocent look. He was not the bodybuilder type, but definitely well-toned, with skin smooth and flawless over the planes of taut muscle. I almost expected there to be markings on his body like Cyril’s, but there were none. He was a sight to wake up to.

I was pulled from my musing by the memory of our awkward moment in the hallway the night before. I almost forgot about it, given the confession from Cyril.

I watched Overton for a moment before I got up in search of some cereal. He followed my every movement.

“I guess I should figure out where you keep the cereal since I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

The look of joy on his face met my scowl.

“So, you are going to stay? What did he do to convince you?” He grinned.

He probably thought Cyril’s performance was a motivator when I was the real actress. “He didn’t convince me. He had you bring all my stuff here and I found out I don’t have an apartment. So, I don’t really have a choice now, do I?” There was probably more venom in my voice than I felt.

“Well, I’m glad you’re staying. It’s the best way to keep you safe. You really don’t have any idea what Myghal is capable of.” He moved from the stove and reached above my head, opened the door, and handed me a box of Special K.

“I’m sorry it’s all we have, but I can add whatever you like to the list. I can also make you something if you’d like,” he said and turned to toss his egg on his plate.

“No, this is fine.” Before I could think, he was beside me with a bowl and milk. He grabbed the cereal from my hand and in a showy display, poured in the cereal and milk at the same time. He retrieved a spoon from the drawer and handed it to me in a way a man might offer a woman a flower.

I made my way back to the stool and he sat beside me, staring at me.

“So what really happened to the housekeeper? I didn’t figure you for the fend-for-yourself kind of guy,” I said and gathered a spoonful of cereal.

“I’m not. But she didn’t take too well to you being locked in the room. I also heard you weren’t exactly hospitable.” He chuckled.

“I was hospitable…for the most part,” I shot back. “What is her story anyway?”

He held up a finger to indicate he was still chewing, swallowed, and said, “ About twenty years ago, Cyril was investigating reports that Vidius found a way to turn people into some kind of undead soldiers. We traveled to Eastern Europe to the location we received in the reports and found the accusations false. We did, however, find that he’d taken a young girl as his personal slave. No murderous zombies, but the girl was a big issue. He had cut out her tongue so that she could not speak of his existence to anyone. Cyril freed her, but with no real skills and with the fact that Vidius would surely be pissed when he found out, Cyril offered her protection. He paid her well and provided for her, and in return she did various chores for us. She had been with us until last week. She’s still with us in a way.”

I raised an eyebrow. She probably had three last names by now
.

He caught my skeptical look and corrected me. “No, not that. She is still one hundred percent the same. She went to stay with Moreaux.”

“Moreaux?”

“Yes, Moreaux LeFevre Machaut. You have not met him. He’s… How shall I say it? Not so accepting of our existence. He blames Cyril for every misfortune and typically doesn’t stay with us. He spends most of his time in France. He doesn’t like change. When we need the extra manpower, he’ll help, but otherwise prefers to live by himself.”

“Do the rest of you live here?”

“From time to time, but we do prefer to stay together for the company. It’s hard to make friends when you can’t really share a large portion of your life. With Myghal’s latest antics we stay for safety as well, but we have many residences all over the world.

“When was Moreaux…created?” I corrected myself before I said born.

“I can’t remember exactly but sometime in the fourteenth century.”

“So you are the oldest, besides Cyril, of course?”

He nodded and continued. “Cyril was staying in France to strengthen his relationship with the king. He found one of the easiest ways to bewitch kings was to share his patronage of the arts. This served Cyril well because he had always been fascinated by the energy released through creativity. He secured the services of a prominent young composer.”

No wonder he was so good at music. He had literally forever to practice.

“As you probably know the Black Death ravaged Europe. The king, the composer, and Cyril’s squire were all exposed to the bloody illness during the harvest festival at the castle. Cyril of course would not succumb to the disease and I’m sure you know what happened next.”

“Yeah, he made a combo meal. I don’t get it; if they were going to die, why is Moreaux pissed?”

“The best I can guess is that one of them had a negative view on life and it carried over. The plague moved quickly and Cyril was forced to act without his usual careful evaluation.”

“Yeah, those musicians are moody bastards,” I said as I half laughed.

Overton chuckled.

“But you get your dominant traits from the priest, right?”

“Yes. You know it’s odd to have convictions, but not all the memories to support them. A lot like how people describe carrying things from one life to another. No explanations, but strong feelings. Why do people fear spiders when they’ve never been bitten by one? My life has a lot of irrational convictions. The priest is strong in me. I find myself abstaining from things I have no moral objection to but can’t overcome the feeling it is somehow wrong.”

“Such as?”

He lowered his head and for the first time stopped looking at me.

“Overton? What is it?”

He ran his fork over his plate mindlessly then spoke softly, slightly above a whisper. “Take sins of the flesh, for example. I have no moral objection to consenting adults giving and receiving pleasure from one another, nor do I think God objects as long as no one is harmed, but for myself, I’ve never been able to do it. Not that I’m physically incapable; my conscience won’t allow it. It just feels wrong…well, at least it did.”

That wasn’t where I expected my question to go. I so didn’t want to have this conversation with him now.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.” I knew what he meant. There was safety in not addressing it.

“It seems I should at least offer you an apology.” He took a bite of egg.

I just wanted to eat my cereal and go to work, but I responded anyway. “Overton, there is nothing to apologize for.”

“Sure there is. If you only knew all of the unsavory thoughts that crossed my mind about you in that moment, you’d kill me and so would Cyril.”

“What?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why was he telling me this?
I shook my head in denial at his words while mindlessly chewing my cereal.

“I went to confession, hoping that would help. I even told Cyril, hoping he’d be able to stop…
this
…whatever it is I’m feeling.”

“What did Cyril say?”

“He was angry. He warned me to not cross the line. I won’t, Linden; you don’t need to worry.”

It hit me. That stupid son of a bitch! How can one person be so superhuman and so fucking stupid at the same time?

“Just out of curiosity, Overton, when did you start feeling this attraction for me?” I took another spoonful and tried to hide the pissed-off tone in my voice as I stared at the counter.

“I guess it was at the winter gala.”

“So, the first time we met.”

“Yes.”

I kept chewing, paused for a moment and with no enthusiasm said, “That’s what I thought.” More chewing.

He raised an eyebrow and stared at me.

“What?” I said with my mouth full, and gestured with my spoon.

“I’m wondering what you think is going on. I’m curious to know your theories because I’m a very disciplined man, Linden, and my thoughts do not drift easily, but for some reason I can’t seem to focus when I’m around you. I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. So you can relax; the attraction isn’t genuine, so no broken oaths and all that.” I threw down my spoon. “That fucking dumbass!”

“Linden?”

“Overton, I think when Cyril cast the spell to bind us, which had the side effect of making him…rather…lustful toward me, I think it affected you as well, since you have his essence. He never thinks things through.”

“That’s why he needs you.”

I laughed. “Fuck that! I’m going back to my life. If I have to live here then so be it, but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to wander around cleaning up his supernatural bullshit.”

“Linden, you can’t be serious. You are everything to him.”

“Wait, you just sat here and told me you can barely keep your hands off me and you’re pleading his case?”

“Yes. Not that I don’t want you, but I don’t even know if I could go through with it. I know I shouldn’t want you and moreover I know I can’t have you so it all makes sense.”

“Ha, nothing makes sense.”

I finished my cereal and was about to stand when in walked another “family” member and by the looks of it, this family didn’t lack for treasure.

“Rhys, what are you doing? There is a lady present.” Overton chastised the newcomer.

I had seen the man briefly in the foyer the night I slipped down the stairs, but his lack of clothing gave me a whole new appreciation.

“Nice to see you… I mean meet you, Rhys.” I flashed him a big smile.

Rhys was a sight to behold—black hair, bronzed skin, black tattoos in various locations all over his body begging to be appreciated. His muscular frame was more bulky than Overton’s. Rhys was more the bodybuilder type, excessively defined, but it was impossible to compare him to Cyril. Cyril was more like the subject of a fantasy drawing rather than of an actual man. His family was definitely earthy but the finest specimens I had ever seen.

“Rhys!” Overton scolded him again.

“I’m so sorry.” He tried to cover himself with one hand, which was completely pointless. Rhys stood at full attention and there was a lot to him. Given human standards, the man was gifted. With his other hand he pulled out a stool and sat down on his naked ass.

I grinned because he obviously wasn’t embarrassed. My amusement at Overton’s appalled reaction made me chuckle.

“Rhys, I think you need to apologize to Linden,” Overton barked.

“For what?” I countered.

“For not seeing to your delicate sensibilities.”

I laughed so hard I snorted. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Overton. I appreciate the scenery.”

Rhys grinned and I continued chuckling under my breath.

“Rhys, would you like some cereal? I’ll get it for you because I think if you stand up, my buddy here might pop a gasket.” I nodded toward Overton.

Overton gave me a searing look.

Rhys paused and flashed a sly grin at Overton. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Thanks to Cyril and all his lessons in nudity tolerance, Rhys barely fazed me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate his assets. With Cyril’s propensity for picking delicious-looking men for his family, I had to wonder if he wasn’t gay or at least bisexual. Where did he find the base material to make these guys?

“Looks like it’s a Special K kind day for you, buddy.” I placed the bowl and spoon in front of him and reached for the box.

“Sweetheart, I’ll have anything you’re serving,” Rhys said in a seductive, deep, Spanish-accented voice and gave me a flirtatious wink.

Overton scoffed.

“Careful there, hotness, or the priest might send you to confession. I’m sure you’re in the top ten on someone’s naughty list. Aren’t you?”

“You know it.” He laughed.

“Overton, you’re still my favorite,” I said in an overly dramatic patronizing way, and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled, but it barely masked his scowl.

Voices drifted in from the hall. As I turned to place the box back on the counter, three more beyond gorgeous men made their way through the door.