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Satan knows that Khi isn’t the stealthiest of people. He’s too damn friendly and captivating, and people tend to remember that, remember him. It doesn’t help that our looks cause us to stand out even further. There’s nothing unassuming or forgettable about our appearance and the fact we look damn near identical except for the long scar across the left side of Khi’s jaw. The only scar that is visible to others, at least.
That’s not to say that I haven’t used my face to get me out of plenty of things because I have. Countless times, all I’ve had to do was lift the side of my mouth up in a little smirk, letting my eyes crinkle just so, and they’d be eating out of the palm of my hand. Men and women alike. How could someone so handsome be anything but a good guy? Oh, how very wrong they are.
Moving further into the bar, the thumping of the bass sinks into my bones and lines up perfectly with the steady rhythm of my heart. The atmosphere holds a mash-up of allure and intrigue. I feel a surge of something, exhilaration maybe with a hint of wariness, pointing back to something pivotal in the air.
I spot him across the room when his gaze meets mine, and for one moment, a moment suspended in time, it feels like the world retreats, and there is just him and I. He’s my everything, as much as one person can be. Love is an emotion neither of us understands, foreign and odd upon our tongues, but whatever it is I feel for him, well, I imagine it’s the closest to it. At least in terms of how I perceive it by watching the world around me.
Magnetically, our eyes lock, with a quiet understanding exchanging between us. Tonight, we play one of our different games. Two strangers meeting by happenstance. Khi’s lips lift into that little half-smirk that spells disaster, but the very best kind. It’s an open invitation between us, filled with familiarity and taunting. The spark between us is an electric charge that is undeniable. Everyone here, if they looked upon us, would think us just two brothers meeting for the night.
But we are so much goddamn more than that.
Two partners.
Two lovers.
Two murderers.
No one other than us would ever understand the connection. We barely understand it, and I don’t need nor want someone trying to psychoanalyze us.
Slowly, I make my way toward the bar, drawing deep breaths as each step brings me closer to the dark, angelic figure waiting for me. Khi may be my younger brother, but the gravitational force field hold he has on me has been there for as far back as my memory can gather. He draws me into his orbit, and I enter willingly, letting the anticipation that is churning within me guide me further into his side.
“Adrian,” he murmurs my name as I settle into the barstool next to him. The name he uses for me anytime we are out and about, playing our little games. No longer are we Dominic and Malakhi LaRue. We are simply Adrian and Julian. It’s the way he says it, dripping full of sin and coated in a fine layer of lust that causes one lone shiver to run up my spine. I do love playing with him.
“Julian,” I say, giving him a quick nod of my head in acknowledgment. My voice remaining steady without giving away my own craving.
No exchange of words is needed before Khi signals the bartender, and before I can even blink, a glass of bourbon appears before me. The bartender, a cute, short little blonde, winks at me and then spins away. I hear Khi growl at her little flirtation, more so probably because he also did not get a wink. So competitive, but some of it no doubt has to do with jealousy.
“How did you know I enjoy bourbon?” I ask, lifting the rocks glass to my lips and taking a sip, letting my tongue slip out to lick the droplet teetering on the rim before setting it back down to the worn-down bar top.
Quirking one thick black eyebrow at me, he raises his own glass before responding, “I made it my mission to know you inside and out. To pay attention to every small fucking little detail that makes up who you are. To use it against you, one way or another.” I make a single hmm noise in response, allowing him to play his little Julian role. He’ll pay for it later, just like he always wants to. Fucking my anger into him is like smoking weed. The hit calms me, and I end up languid and ready for a fucking nap.
We spend the night as if we really are two strangers, just getting to know each other. Conversation flows seamlessly, unusual when two individuals meet for the first time. Diving into topics that border our own actual lives without giving too much away is a fine line. For all intents and purposes, we were left alone with blondie refilling our glasses every once in a while.
Who did she think we were? Detectives? Crime scene investigators? It really didn’t matter, but I know she could catch snippets of our whispered tone as she got close. Talk of crime scenes, forensic experts, and dissecting to the very bones the motives of murderers would not be typically a Friday night bar discussion. A disturbing conversation to anyone who would be eavesdropping for sure, but to us, it was just two curious, connected minds having a conversation about our work. Just not the work that most would pinpoint.
The world blurs around us as we talk, everything fading into a distant low hum. It all disappears until it seems like we are the only two people in the room besides the bartender. In a world where everything changes and nothing stays the same, I value the connection I have to my little brother. I acknowledge and appreciate that he enjoys playing these little games with me. Fulfilling my need to be ourselves, but also to be someone else when I need a break from my own madness. Our own little pieces of a puzzle falling into place as we slowly reveal our true selves.
I was a twin once; his name was Adrian. The very name I carry right now. I killed him in utero, consumed his entire essence, and never once did I feel sorry about that. Not when my parents mentioned it every chance they could, thinking it would punish me. He deserved it. I wouldn’t have been able to share Khi with anyone fucking else. I would have killed him regardless, so really it was my gift to him that I did it before his first breath.
I only had one need for a brother, and even my fetal self knew intrinsically that Malakhi was coming years later, and he would be my twin flame. I truly believe that it was written in the stars and transcribed through the ages. Malakhi and I, we are the ones that have known each other before. Numerous times we’ve met, and after these husks are dead and dried, we will meet again. A never-ending cycle of him and I being together, held tightly by the red thread of fate.
Khi’s eyes hold mine captive. So identical to my own except whereas mine were strictly dark blue, his were just a bit lighter with an outer ring of green. It was like staring into an ocean or maybe a fucking galaxy.
With an intimacy in his gaze that usually spelled trouble for the both of us, he dragged me under. Our game of wits was coming to a head, and soon, one, if not both, of us would snap.
"Adrian," his voice is a low murmur, each syllable laden with intention. "Have you ever considered the power we hold? Truly? The potential to craft our own masterpiece, to leave a mark on history in a way that no one else ever could?"
The gravity of his question settles between us, hanging in the air like a promise. It was a notion that had lingered in the back of my mind, a quiet desire that had taken root. It was the premise of becoming the Harbingers. That and the need to relieve the pressures of our lives. Taking back the power that’s been stripped from you is intoxicating. You keep seeking out ways to recreate it, and we’ve been successful.
Every single time since that stormy night six years ago.
It’s why I love the rain so much. I’m only happy when it rains.
That was our first stage and the one that holds the most weight. The start of a career that bathes in blood and violence, coloring itself with darkness and temptation but lured us like the sirens lured Odysseus.
"I have," I murmur, my voice a mere breath in the charged atmosphere. “Do you truly think I am the way I am because I don’t? If anything, it feels like you too often don’t understand the magnitude of what we do. Maybe it’s my own fault. I am always there watching your ass, making sure you stay the fuck out of trouble. You’re attracted to trouble like moths are to a flame.”
Julian's smile was both chilling and inviting. "I don’t go looking for it…much. I just want to feel fucking alive. I feel like a dormant volcano often. Just everything bubbling under the dark surface waiting to erupt at any moment."
