11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Ryker

My eyes popped open, but I had no idea where I was. The room was opulent, with hanging tapestries covering pewter-toned walls. The bed was black lacquer, and the comforter and sheets were gunmetal-gray silk. It was impressive, but nothing hinted at my location.

I pushed the comforter and sheet off, finding I was still wearing my work clothes. I glanced around the room but found no clocks, radios, or televisions. I also noticed blackout shades on the window, and across from a plush gray velvet couch was a strange black box that— "Is that a coffin?"

Standing from the bed, I slowly approached the box, knocking on it. It was definitely made from wood and ornately decorated with silver adornments, much like the tapestries on the walls. Who the hell would have a—

"Come on. This is taking it a bit too far. Let me out! " I shouted. Maybe that crap I'd walked in on was a bad dream, or maybe I was in a coma from a fall? I just wanted it over. "Anyone?"

There was a knock, but I didn't see a door anywhere. "Come in?"

A wall panel opened, and Etienne Tremblay came inside with a tray. "You fainted, so we put you in here. I thought perhaps you needed a snack, though Stephen suggested perhaps something else would work better, but I put my foot down."

"Where is Stephen?" I had to have dreamed all that shit, right?

"I'm here." The voice changed, but Etienne looked the same. Was this the other personality?

"I can't do this. I'm going to leave, and I want you to stay as far away from me as possible before I call the police and report you as a stalker. You need help."

I slid on my shoes and rushed out of that room and down the stairs as fast as possible. I didn't even go to my car. I just ran all the way home. Once I got there, I was surprised to see Lance standing at the kitchen counter having a beer. There were moving boxes filling the living room, but I was home, and I was with someone I knew.

"You look like you saw a ghost. I thought you were standing me up. Where you wanna go?" Lance let out a huge burp before he grinned, the mannerless idiot.

"I, uh. Look, Lance. I had a really shitty day, and I just wanna go to bed. Do you really have to leave tomorrow? Maybe we can go to lunch tomorrow?"

Lance laughed. "Sure, man. No worries, but I can't make lunch. Movers are getting here at ten, and my flight leaves at three. I'm gonna go out and see if I can find that chick from the other night. I wouldn't mind a last bang before I head to the Pacific Northwest."

Lance gave me a back-slapping hug, and we said goodbye. He left through the front door, and I went upstairs to my room, closing and locking the door. I kicked off my loafers and crawled into my messy bed, pulling the covers over my head in hopes of waking the next morning to find it was all one long fucking nightmare.

Bang! Bang! Bang! "Hey, Ryker! Open up, man."

My eyes opened but I couldn't see anything. I quickly realized the blanket was over my head, so I pushed it down, seeing it was light out. What fucking time was it?

"Who's there?" I got up and quietly made my way to the door, realizing I'd already given myself away. I must have been suffering from some kind of shock.

"It's me, man, Cubby. Let me in. What's going on, Ryker?"

I hurriedly opened the door and flung my arms around my best friend's neck. "God, I'm glad you're here. I think I'm losing my mind, Cubby. What day is it?"

"It's Wednesday. I went by your office, but the receptionist told me you were at meetings outside the office. What's going on with you?"

God, finally someone with some sense. Then I remembered something. "I was told you were in Biloxi for a few days."

Cubby laughed. "You called me last night and said you were going insane. Did you think I wouldn't come back to check on you?" I didn't remember calling him, but after what I'd seen, anything was possible.

Cubby was dressed in vacation clothes. "I called you?"

"Yeah. About two in the morning. Rory and I were just getting back to the house when you called and begged me to come save your life. Tell me you didn't let Lance talk you into drinking some of that ‘shroom-spiked moonshine he got from that Voodoo woman again."

I stared at him for a moment, and then his words sunk in. "You were with Rory Tremblay?"

Cubby laughed and pushed his way inside my room, sitting in the wobbly desk chair by the window. "Dude, we hit it off immediately, Rory and me. Did I tell you I met him at a club before we went to The House of Tremblay for dinner? That's why he was acting so odd that night. We hooked up in the restroom, and he wasn't sure if he should act like he knew me or not. I'm so gone over the guy. It's not funny."

"Oh, that's good, I guess. How old is the guy, actually?" Rory appeared to be sixteen or so. I prayed to heaven he wasn't that young.

"He's twenty, so only six years younger than me. I'm taking him with me to Portland when I move. He's only ever lived here, and his skin is sensitive to the bright sun, so Oregon should be kinder to him." Cubby glanced around the room before his eyes settled on me again.

"Why the fuck did you go to the beach, then, if he can't take direct sunlight?"

Cubby laughed. "They have a sweet beach house. There's a covered pool and hot tub, so we hang out at the house during the bright hours of the day, go to the beach in the evenings, or get up early and go shelling. It's been fantastic."

"You've only been gone a few days." Something was up with Cubby, I could tell. I had no idea what.

"I lose track of time when I'm with him, Ryker. He's incredible. I feel like I've been drifting aimlessly through life until meeting him. He's more than I could have ever imagined." Cubby's eyes lit up when he spoke of Rory. I was glad he was happy.

"Now, what's up with you? I thought you and Uncle Etienne hit it off. Rory said Uncle Stephen was having you do work—"

"You've met them? The twins?" Part of me wanted him to confirm there were two of them. Part of me wondered if the straightjackets would show up if I told him about my nightmare.

"The twins? Yeah, of course. Why? Did something happen with them?" Cubby studied me, his expression very serious.

I walked over to my bed and sat, cuddling one of my pillows as if it were a stuffed animal like the ones I was given as a kid when I went to a new foster home. "I didn't go drinking with Lance. I think he's already gone, as a matter of fact." I hadn't even checked.

"Yeah, he let me in when he was leaving. Tell me what's wrong, Ryker."

I exhaled. "I went to Tremblay's last night to talk to Etienne and Stephen. I sat in the bar to have a drink while I waited for one of them to meet me, having planned to go for pizza with either of them. Hell, I can't remember which one I made the date with in the first place.

"Anyway, Sabine acted as if I was trying to kill one of them, and then Thomas basically threw me out, so I left and went around the back. I snuck in through the kitchen and went up to the third floor. They were arguing—well, I think that's what they were doing. I can't explain what I saw, Cubby. Stephen could see!"

Cubby chuckled. "Yeah, when Etienne relinquishes control, Stephen can see. They struggle with sharing time, Ryker. Rory and his beast have merged into one entity, but Etienne refuses to merge with Stephen, even going so far as to make him use a different name. He blames Stephen for the death of Farrah, who Etienne thought was his soul mate. She wasn't, but Etienne still can't accept it. It's been going on for centuries. The family seems to believe you might be the one to convince them to come to terms with it."

Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! "Have you been drugged?" I stared at my best friend, wondering if this was another nightmare.

Cubby stood and grinned. "No. Well, not in the sense you think. Rory is a vampire too. He makes me feel good, Ryker." Then, the asshole dropped his pants and showed me his thighs. He had pink marks that reminded me of the ones on Lance's neck that I'd seen…hell, I couldn't remember when.

"Oh, god, it's a fucking cult. What are they doing to you, Cubby?" My best friend, who was one of the smartest, most level-headed guys I'd ever met, was saying shit that was off the charts on the sanity scale.

The whole fucking bunch of them had lost their minds, and now they were trying to take mine.