The Alignment (29 page)

I wake up and fall back asleep over and over in the morning as Trey hits the snooze button at least a dozen times. Having enough, I flip the covers back and swing my legs to the floor. “Maybe we should just get up.” I turn off the alarm clock.

He moans into his pillow. It’s an unusual picture. I’ve never seen him sleep in like this, except for one time, but I can’t quite remember when it was.

“Do you want to sleep longer?” I hope he doesn’t and know if he does, I’ll only be tempted to slide into bed with him and soak up the thick morning smell of his skin that will most likely bait me into allowing him to have his way with me.

“No. We need to get on the road.” His voice is an octave deeper. He shoves himself up, stretches his back and rolls his neck. He sits on the edge of his bed across from me. I make the mistake of looking into his eyes too long. My craving for his attention, for a redo of that night, is much easier to hide when he’s got a chokehold on his hormones. Now that I know he’s game, my only weapon is stubbornness. I said we can control ourselves, and I meant it. His eyes run the length of my body in a dare, and when they return to my face, one corner of his mouth turns up as if predicting my surrender.

I want to give him the finger. The insult might entice him. I shake my head at him instead.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he says.

“Before what?” I pretend to miss his suggestion.

He places his hand on my knee and runs it up my thigh until his fingers sneak under the edge of my boyshorts. I try not to move, but it’s nearly impossible. He’s created a flush so powerful I might need a crash cart. Then he’s grabbing the backs of my calves with both hands, giving my body a slight jerk in a threat of pulling me off my bed and onto his lap.

I take hold of his wrists. It’s a useless defense against him, but it’s all I can manage. He could overtake me right now, and I doubt I’d do anything to stop it. “You don’t have permission.” My voice struggles to remain calm despite the heat rushing from the point of his touch toward every erogenous zone.

“Do I need it?” He doesn’t let go.

He’s going to win this one. I want him too badly, and he knows it. The air between us builds like the charged heat before a summer storm, and I suddenly remember I need to breathe. I pry his fingers off my legs. He doesn’t resist. I give both of his hands back to him and stand. He grabs my hips.

“You’re a bad actress.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m tired of waiting.”

I put my hands over his. “You didn’t answer my question.” I could give in. What’s stopping me? My heart pounds, and my better judgment screams in my ears. If it was any other time of the month, we might get away with it. Not now. It’s not worth it. I pry his fingers off my hips and slip away to the bathroom without looking back.

We take turns showering, and when I finish mine I find him at the sink shaving his face with my razor. I can’t remember the last time I saw him clean-shaven, and I can’t decide if he’s more handsome since I don’t think it’s actually possible.

Back on the road, he stops for gas and I pick up some cheesy gossip magazines just to have something to occupy my mind. I read the articles to him in an overdramatized voice and the time passes at an amazing pace.

When I see the Chicago skyline, my throat closes. Tears burn in my eyes. I refuse to let them free.

“Read another one,” he says, noticing my silence. He looks over and reaches for my hand.

His touch is an overwhelming jolt of reality, and part of me wants to pull away. My old house might not be empty. He could be there, minutes away. It’s unthinkable to mention, to even want to see him, but to be so close and not at least find out—can I live with that?

Anything will be easier to live with than the sick guilt that’s just engulfed me from thinking about him, from missing him, while Trey’s next to me holding my hand. And there’s no way to see him without the two of them meeting. That’s an encounter I’d be wise to avoid.

We stop on the outskirts of the city to have lunch. Over our meal, Trey asks, “Is there anywhere you’d like to visit while we’re here?”

“No,” I answer without thinking. It’s easier not to think right now. “Are we going straight there, or do you want to get a room for the night and go in the morning?”

“Straight there.”

I wonder why I bothered to ask.

We finish eating and walk out to the car where Trey slips on his shoulder holster right out in the open. He covers it with a loose gray jacket while I put my holster and jacket on inside the car.

“Do you really think it’s going to be dangerous?” I search for the calm in my mind and hold on tight.

He shrugs. “No idea.”

He seems more bored than anything, and I wonder if it’s a front.

3015 Scarlet Lane is a red brick row house in a vibrant middle-class neighborhood. He parallel parks several houses down, and we step out onto the tree-lined street. Each house is similar yet distinct in that turn-of-the-century way. The oaks at the curb were probably planted the same year the houses were built. They loom over us, like this street belongs to them instead of its human inhabitants. We walk to the house and stand on the sidewalk, staring up at its green door.

“Looks harmless enough,” he says.

Large pots of overflowing petunias and herbs line the steps. We walk up side by side. At the door, we take a long look at one another, and I ring the bell.

Chapter 35

Trey

T
he door creaks
open and I find myself looking into the eyes of the female version of me. And people think
Kate
and I look alike.

“Fearghus?” the woman asks. It is my mother’s voice. She steps down off the step toward me, her eyes like slits and her eyebrows pulled together. I stare back at her, and it occurs to me we’re making the exact same expression. She turns toward Liv, whose eyes are full of surprise. “Liv?”

“How do you know Liv?” the woman and I say simultaneously, word for word. Her face changes to lightly guarded astonishment, and she whispers, “It
is
you.”

I look at Liv. Her irises are jumping back and forth between the woman and me, and I’m caught off guard by a strong embrace. My arms jerk upward into the air and remain there, unsure, until I’m released.

“Well come inside, for god’s sake,” the woman says and steps back into the house.

Liv and I exchange a look. I lead the way inside.

“Mamó!” the woman calls into the house from the hall.

Grandma
. They know my name, and they know the language.

An elderly woman appears at the end of the hall, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s thin and hunched at the shoulders. Her hair is tied back by a scarf. The two women share a knowing glance, and Liv and I follow them into a side room where two children are playing on a rug spread with toys.

The elderly woman pats my arm. “Please sit,
a chroí
, so I can have a better look at you.”

I obey, understanding my height is a hindrance to her vision of me.

“You are so much like your father in person.” Her accent is diluted, but I can still pick it up.

“You know my father?”

She nods to me and turns toward Liv.

The woman who answered the door says, “Mamó, do you remember Liv Gilchrist? She’s the client of mine who moved to Montana. Nancy Carter’s territory. I had no idea…” She looks at Liv.

“Tara, I’m dying to know how you know Trey.” Liv’s voice is suspicious and impatient. It’s a new sound for her.

“I see this is a little more complicated than we thought.” The old woman settles down on the couch next to me. “Please sit,” she says to Liv.

Liv sits rigidly on the edge of a nearby chair.

“Fearghus.” She turns to me. “My daughter sent you here because it is time you know.”

“Your daughter?” I try to think of anyone I know who could be her daughter.

“Fearghus,” she says again, forcing me to concentrate. “
Is mise do sheanmháthair
.”

Liv’s eyes dart to me. She is at a loss. “She’s my grandmother,” I say to Liv, merely translating the words.

“And Tara here,” she continues in English for Liv’s sake. “She is your twin sister.”

Without a need to translate for Liv, understanding hits me like a punch in the gut. I react to the shock by standing and moving back to the doorway. When I turn back to face them, Liv is aiming an accusatory stare at Tara.

“Liv, I had no idea you were the one. I sent you to Nancy… I sent you to Nancy because I thought you’d be happy there. I had no idea that Fearghus—Trey—was so close. Or that you, and he…” She puts a hand to her mouth. One of the children wanders over to her and she lifts him onto her lap.

The old woman looks across the room at me. “This is a lot to take in at once.”

I feel my short breath settling low in my lungs. Trained, preparing for action. No one’s a threat here but my control is slipping away. I’m on that plane again, where everyone in my space needs to die. The bulb in the table lamp beside me is a scalding flame. And there’s not enough fucking air in this room.

“Please, Fearghus, come back and sit with us.”

My life has been an enormous, calculated lie, fed to me by every single person I know, except for one. “Liv,” I say. She stands, looking alarmed. I’ve been deliberately kept in the dark, manipulated, deceived. “Liv,” I say again, to no one in particular. To the world. She’s the only one I have. And she’s here, by my side, and I can trust only her. I feel her fingers slide against my hand.

“It’s okay.” Her perfect blue eyes comfort mine.

“Let’s go.” To the car. To drive away from everything.

“It’s okay,” she says again. Her voice is calm now, when it was so strained before. She drags me back into the room and pushes me down on the couch, then she sits next to me, holding my arm in her lap. I feel my body relax, and she reaches under my jacket and removes my gun. She ejects the mag and checks the chamber before returning it to the holster. She puts the mag in her pocket and pulls my arm back into her lap.

“Can I get either of you something to drink?” Tara asks.

“No, thank you,” Liv answers for both of us.

My mind has flatlined. With no outlet for my rage everything simply turns off.

“Did Trey’s mother tell you we were coming?” Liv asks.

“No. We had no idea. This is as much a surprise to us as it is to you.” Tara looks down at the little boy in her arms who has fallen asleep.

“Not even close,” I hear myself say. “At least you knew I existed.”

“I waited forty-five years to meet you!” Tara says. “At least you had your ignorance. Your peace.”

“Peace is overrated.” My voice comes out in a snarl, but I hardly care.

She stands, glaring back at me while carrying the sleeping child to the hall. The stairs creak under her feet. The other child stands, holding a book, gaping at me and Liv.

The old woman pushes herself up. “You two make yourselves at home. I need to check my stew.”

Tara returns to scoop up the remaining child and take her upstairs.

Once she’s out of earshot, Liv shakes my arm. “Trey, please. If only you knew what it was like to not have any family at all, you’d welcome this. This is a gift. Don’t you see that?”

I don’t have any words to answer her.

“I don’t know what to say. Please, just try. Just for today. Tomorrow, we can go home and you’ll never have to think about this ever again. But for now, could you just try? For me?”

I don’t meet her eyes. I know what will happen if I do. I will cave.

“For your mother?”

“My mother
lied
to me my
whole life
.” A sick feeling strains in my gut. I have never been angry with my mother.

Tara reappears in the doorway. “If you had any idea what our mother has gone through for you—”

“Do you
know
our mother?” The fierceness of my voice outdoes hers without me trying. If she wants to pick a fight, it’s on. She didn’t appear once in the thirty years I lived in that house yet she’s an expert on my mother? I start to stand, but she sits in a chair.

“I’m not going to fight with you.” She looks down at her hands.

Liv’s fingernails dig into my arm and I realize I’m straining against her. “Please,” she whispers.

I don’t know whose move it is but I don’t care. Tara watches her hands, I watch Tara, Liv watches me. Her last word rings in my head, and enough time passes for me to realize I am incapable of saying no to her. “Are you going to fill me in? Because this is getting really fucking old.”

Tara is visibly taken aback. “I really don’t know where to start.”

“Now.” I lean back against the couch.

“Mamó!” she hollers toward the doorway.

“Continue without me, dear,” the woman’s voice returns.

“Please do.” I try not to sound belligerent.

Tara takes a breath. “This is going to be a lot.”

“Spit it out.”

“You were kidnapped.”

I scoff.

“When we were two weeks old.”

I shift my weight and look around the room. “Kidnapped by my own mother.”

“No, by the Moores. They wanted you. They knew about you. Our mother couldn’t allow them to take you alone, so she went with you.”

“Why didn’t she just tell them no?” I say, intentionally belligerent this time.

Her eyebrows rise. “You’re kidding, right?”

Liv chimes in. “He has no idea what he’s saying. We’ve had a very rough couple of days.”

“What do you mean they knew about me?” I wonder if she’s being vague just to piss me off.

“They knew how important you are to us.”

“Meaning?”

“The prophecy. But see, the prophecy you know is the one they taught you. Our version is a little different.”

I knew those assholes were lying about the prophecy.

“Our father had already passed away when you and I were born.”

“Our father?” Our father is alive and well.

“Yes. Martin Moore is not your real father.”

I look at Liv. She can’t possibly expect me to take any more of this. Every single thing I know is a lie, and the more these people talk the more lies are revealed. Someone’s going to pay for this. If she doesn’t know that now, she will soon.

Tara continues, “I stayed with Mamó. Máthair went to live with them—enemies of our family—so she could stay with you, to protect you, to raise you as one of us. The Moores thought they had what they wanted. They had you to keep in their control, to train you to be a killer. To fight on their side. They had no idea our mother was working hard to raise you as one of us, so you could ultimately fight against them. Only now, you can fight them at their own game. You know all their secrets.”

Something shifts, awakening inside me. Something I knew all along, but it was buried deep. Under layer upon layer of lies.

“Go on,” I say as softly as I can manage.

“Their prophecy speaks of your heir as leading them to their end. But in our prophecy, your heir leads us to our beginning. Our rebirth. The Moores have been in power for two hundred years, and our family has suffered at their hands. The whole world is suffering at their hands.”

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Fearghus, the things they do…”

I cock my head at her. I lived in that house for thirty years. I’m fully aware of what they do.

She sighs, looking down at her lap. When her eyes meet mine again I can tell she doesn’t want to push the subject. “They want to do everything in their power to prevent your heir from being born. And we want to do everything in our power to protect your heir.”

“He doesn’t exactly exist,” I point out.

Tara’s eyes move to Liv. “No…” She dwells on the word.

I shrug. “So?”

“I’m sure they told you they applied the effect. Your immortality.”

She takes my silence as an affirmative.

“They didn’t. The effect came from us. When our family found out the prophecy related to your bloodline, they wanted to do everything they could to protect you, to ensure the Alignment, and to protect your heir in the future. They placed the effect on you, in the womb, to be applied starting in your thirtieth year, knowing that this timing was necessary for the Alignment to take place. What the Moores told you was an attempt to make it look like a gift from them. They were hoping you’d be grateful enough to respect their prophecy. To honor their wishes. To never father a child. They had no idea you’d ever know the truth.”

I realize I’m leaning forward, so I relax against the couch.

“But the funny thing is they didn’t know I was in there, too. So I got the effect at the same time you did.” She smiles.

My twin should be forty-five years old, and she in no way looks like she’s forty-five. Just like me, she’s been in limbo for fifteen years.

“Although, it will run out for me as soon as it runs out for you. And that’s something else—an important part of the effect is how it passes from you to your child. The Moores were right in telling you as soon as you have a child you will no longer be immortal. It’s designed to be passed, so your child has the ultimate protection.”

“Never aging?” What is that good for?

“No, it applies to an infant a little differently than it applies to you.”

So yet again, here I am, living a life that has already been decided for me. I look at Liv, who’s carefully holding her expression neutral. My anger builds. I didn’t ask to be in the middle of this and I want the fuck out. Beating the Moores at their own game is tempting, but I don’t see how it’s possible. And I don’t think it’s worth all this shit. It would be a hell of a lot easier to just arm myself to the teeth and go in there and blow them all away. That’s what I should have done the other day. I don’t know how I could have thought being civilized would get me what I wanted.

“Don’t you see?” Tara breaks into my thoughts. “You’re set up to beat them, the people you’ve hated all this time.”

“How do you know I’ve hated them.” My voice is cold.

“I know,” she says gently.

“You can’t possibly know.” I hear the disgust in my words. I lean my arms on my knees and stare at the floor between my boots.

“Because you are nothing like them.”

And I know she’s right. I’ve known this all my life. Now I finally have the reason for it.

“They killed our father.” She’s unable to control the fury in her voice.

My head snaps up. “Who?”

“Someone you already killed.”

“Martin Moore, senior?” It’s a guess I somehow know will be right.

“Yes.”

The man I thought was my grandfather until today is responsible for killing my real father. Fifteen years ago I thought he was responsible for killing Kate and Aaron. He was the first one I went after that day. Had I known the extent of his responsibility, I’d have enjoyed it so much more. Made it longer. More painful. Drawn more blood, so I could remember every last drop.

“They thought killing our father would break the line,” she says.

“But they were too late.” Again, Tara and I speak simultaneously.

“Yes,” she says. “Our mother was already pregnant with us.”

The doorbell rings, and Tara stands. “This is probably Mamó’s nurse. I’ll be right back.”

Liv and I look at each other but don’t speak. There are too many things to say. We hear the door creak open then a dull thud. It creaks again, sounding a little strained this time. Liv and I both look toward the hall, then she looks back at me.

“I can’t believe you have a twin. This is so surreal.”

“Tell me about it.”

Voices from the front door rise in volume. There’s some sort of confrontation going on. The old woman shuffles into view and moves toward the hallway with a telephone in her hand, watching the doorway like she’s waiting for a cue.