Page 41 of Deviant Illusions

“Yeah, there is. If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask that prick. That goes against you not wanting me to speak to him, doesn’t it?”

He turns, looking at me over his shoulder. I know he can’t worm his way out of giving me an answer now. Turning to face me, he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the side of the truck. “We come from a very powerful family. One that has influence and more wealth than can be documented.”

“My dad’s rich—was rich—I get that.” I nod.

“No.” Lennox’s face twists in disgust and he shakes his head like I’m misunderstanding. “He was a beggar in comparison. Your mother left a life where she was the ruler to step down intofilth.You believe the Xandros name opens doors? Kobalt is more than you could ever imagine.” He takes a step forward, but he doesn’t tower over me. “We don’t walk into rooms. We build them around us, and everyone presses their nose to the glass, dying to be allowed entry.”

I understand wealth. I grew up in it. My dad didn’t exactly live a normal life, and we went to the best schools, had the best of everything and money was never an object. I can’t remember a time in my life that I wanted for a material possession. It was there and we had our own cards when we were too irresponsibleto know that wealth wasn’t afforded to everyone. But there’s more. It’s not about money or greed for Lennox and Rowan.

“What’s with the reflection bullshit?” I ask, and quickly add, “Don’t repeat the fable of two faces shit to me. Folklore doesn’t tell me anything.”

He laughs without sound, just a small brush of air, and shakes his head. “Folklore? That’s what you call your family history, your lineage?” I nod. “It’s a form of protection. After all, the best alibi is yourself, no?”

His manner of telling me shit is annoying, and I scoff. “I swear to fuck, every time I talk to you, I get more confused. I’m going to get an aneurysm from this shit one day.”

“Think, little shadow,” he says darkly. “When you were a child, did you ever wish that you could swap places with Asher? Perhaps you had a class you didn’t enjoy, or something that you didn’t want to attend.”

Delilah.

Every moment I saw him with Delilah since he started dating her, I wished that we could swap places. From the age of thirteen to the day he died, I wanted nothing more than to send him into my life and me into his.

“Yeah,” I admit, tracing a line that has cracked through the leather glove over my hand. “But it wouldn’t have worked. Everyone knew us.”

“Ah, you’re learning.” He smiles. “The mistake your mother made was allowing the world to know that there were two of you. It was her misguided attempt at protection.”

I nearly laugh because he doesn’t know the truth. Mommy and Daddy Dearest didn’t fucking know I existed. They went to the hospital to have one baby and left with two. Their loving whispers were always filled with my mom regretting me being born, wishing that she knew that there were two children so thatshe could have gotten rid of me even though it would erase her beloved Asher too.

“Just like a mirror,” Lennox says. “If you change the angle, you’ll only ever see one of us.”

The uncharacteristic openness makes me look up, and he swallows around a lump in his throat. I already know the answer, since he’s said we’re the same, but I still ask, “Does Rowan Kobalt exist?”

His answer isn’t what I expect.

“Within his world, yes. He is the creator, the ruler, the judge, and the executioner.”

“What does he want with me?”

He deeply inhales, holding it before answering, “To restore order.” There’s barely any sound as he lets out a long breath that deflates his chest. “He’s given out his punishments and corrected the course, so to speak, and now he needs it to continue. Helene requested that it be you.”

“Who in the fuck is Helene?”

A strange look crosses his features and a small crease forms between his brows. It’s the first time he’s ever looked unsure of anything as he asks, “Your mother never spoke of her?”

I slowly shake my head while trying to think of a time the name was mentioned.

“She’s the original creator of us all.” He tenses, paling the longer he speaks. “The tree that spread its roots to touch as many as possible.” Those whitish blue eyes fix on me, and the next words out of his mouth sound like a warning, not an introduction. “She’s your grandmother.”

Well, that’s the creepiest fucking way to word that.

“So, you want me to do what?” I ask. “Claim my inheritance?”

The open conversation comes to an end as he dismisses me. “Don’t ask too many questions; the answers will only harm you. I can’t protect you, but I don’t want to hurt you. Ease into theinformation or it will. Don’t search for it and be wary of every room you enter, especially if it’s one you’re invited into.”

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. I’ll most likely come to regret ever accepting his offers but he’s the only family I have. So, I deflect. “You should write riddles for the paper.”

The corners of his lips lift into a weak smile as he softly breathes out, “In another life, little shadow.”

To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.

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