Vincent sat in the corner of the lab, hands laced together, leaning his forehead on his thumb knuckles. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out again through rounded lips. Then he reached up with the fingers on his right hand and gently stroked, then straightened, his wedding ring. He wondered when the right time to remove it would be… the right time to move on. He’d purposefully worn it for years.
Vincent twisted the gold band around on his finger a few times. It was a bit looser than it had been when he’d gotten married. Stress, age, and a lack of good food meant he was leaner than he had been a few years ago.
He got up and went back to his table, looking everything over and shaking his head. Mental and physical exhaustion poured over him. Turning, he noted Sabine enter the room and gave her a small smile over his left shoulder. She ignored him, as he expected. The particular bomb he’d dropped on her earlier was a difficult one to swallow, especially since they were not even from the same universe. He hadn’t lied; however, their encounter in his world had been based purely in an emotional moment.
A shy “Hey, I’m sorry,” followed by a simple “Yeah, I’m sorry, too” had melted into eyes meeting and a brief dalliance on a table somewhere forgettable. He’d never felt good about it, nor had he felt good about the string of women who had followed. His spiral after losing his wife hadn’t been drugs or exorbitant spending; no, it’d mostly been women, with a side of sleeping too much on certain days and forgetting to shower or eat. Sabine had been the first. He was proud of none of it.
He walked halfway around the table, staring at the equations he was working on, then glanced over at Klara. She was listening to music on her earphones and couldn’t hear him, her head bobbing a bit as she scribbled something down, swiveled, punched a few numbers into a calculator, then turned back to her paper.
He rubbed the sides of his head. “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered. “I need a break.”
Sabine turned to him. “What?”
Vincent was surprised she’d spoken to him. “I need to rest for a while,” he explained, trying to quell a yawn and failing. He put the back of his wrist up to cover it. “I’m going to make some phone calls and take a nap, come back to this in a few hours when I can.”
He hung up his coat and went out into the hall. It felt odd to walk freely about the facility without anyone leading him around with guns or handcuffs ready, but he was at peace about it, and grateful.
He stopped by the kitchen, grabbed a soda, and leaned back against the counter to drink it. After glancing around to make sure he was alone, he checked his watch, then lifted it to eye level and pushed a few buttons on the side. Something clicked, and he pressed all the buttons at once. A small, almost inaudible beep began as if a signal was going out. He nodded, put his wrist down, and continued to drink.
Austin walked by, looked in at him, gave him a cocky smile, and continued down the hall. Vincent didn’t react. Instead, he finished his soda and went back up to Room Ten for a nap. He’d barely even hit the bed before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
Austin held his breath and took four steps backward, appearing to glide effortlessly on the polished floor. The ball rolled down the alley and hit the pins, knocking them all over. He pumped his fists into the air.
“Strike!” he exclaimed as he turned back to Marielle, who rolled her eyes and looked down. “I think you’re losing,” he said playfully, sitting down at the table next to her and leaning on his palm.
She looked over at the scoreboard. “No, I’m going to slaughter you in the next round.”
“Slaughter me, huh? Go for it.”
“You should have picked a different game. One I could kick your ass in.”
“Yeah, like what?” he asked, taking a drink of water from a cup nearby.
She paused for comedic timing. “Candyland.” He roared with laughter, eyes pinching shut in an incredulous expression. “Hey, we could also play Pretty, Pretty Princess.”
He practically fell out of his chair laughing. She shoved him, which made him topple over, chuckling the whole way and coming back up dramatically like he was trying to climb into a life boat. He removed his tie, loosening it and wrapping it partially around his right hand. She shook her head at him and took a drink.
He sat by her again. “Okay, different game.”
“Whoa, whoa.” She put her hand up and shot him a suspicious glare. “What kind of game?”
“Innocent, I promise.” He raised his hands.
“Nothing is innocent with you, Austin Michael Rancor.”
“Glad you noticed,” he deadpanned. Then he sipped some more and fanned himself. When that didn’t seem to cool him off, he paused and closed his eyes.
Marielle watched in envy, recognizing that he was cooling himself with his abilities. When he opened his eyes and met her gaze, he cocked his head to the side, his expression obviously saying, “Want some? Too bad, Marielle. You told me no.”
“Okay, them…” She followed the path of his fingers and spotted a couple not far away. “What’s their story?”
“How long do I get?” she wondered aloud.
She felt cool silk drop around the front of her face and tighten, plunging her into darkness. Simultaneously, her head pulled back a bit. Her heart pounded with excitement and momentary terror.
“That was it. You got it,” he breathed against her ear. She could hear the salacious glee in his voice.
She pulled his tie away from her eyes. “What?”
He took his hands down, the tie with it. “That’s all the time you get.”
She scowled at him. “Don’t with the tie again,” she warned flatly.
He cringed, scratching his head. “Sorry… too much. Got it.”
She stared at him, trying to figure him out. Was he playing? Nope. “You wanted to see how I would to react to that,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at him. He smirked, but said nothing else. “Stop making plans, Austin.”
He rolled his lips in, surrendering. She wondered how long it’d be before he called this: got too frustrated.
Taking a deep breath, Marielle closed her eyes for a moment and tried to recall the couple, whom she had seen only from the back. The man was Black, partially bald with a little extra weight in the middle, and wearing a striped polo shirt, while his companion had long, straight brown hair. Both had drinks, but hers was in her hand and his was on the table. Neither of them was actually bowling—they’d ordered food recently, but she hadn’t finished hers. The man’s phone was on the table, and his left arm was draped around the back of the bench they were sitting on, but not touching her. Marielle started to wonder how hard Austin was staring at her while her eyes were closed. Was he thinking about kissing her? Assuredly, he was. His body language would probably reflect that in some way the next time she looked at him.
She opened her eyes, meeting the blue in his. “This is their second date. He’s comfortable with her, but he’s not touching her. He’s set his phone far enough away to be seen without being tempting to grab, showing her he’s more interested in her than it. She’s more stiff, and drinking to relax. She’s concerned about how she looks, but she likes him—she’s played with her hair twice,” Marielle finished, pushing some of her own hair back behind her ear.
She exchanged looks with Austin, and he smiled like she’d just given herself away. “Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s so damn hot.”
He smiled a little, the tie still wrapped around his right hand, which rested on his knee. He was squeezing it tightly, and she realized he was starting to lose it. “Good job,” he said. “I concur.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Yup.” He drank some more water. “We’ve gotta look like the weirdest date. This is the second time we’ve been out where I’m dressed up and you look like you came from the gym.”
“Hey, I like to be comfortable.” She got up, grabbed one of the nine-pound balls, and went to the lane. “And we’re not on a date.”
She offered him a smile, then rolled the ball down the lane. It struck the last few pins on the left and brought most of them down. She turned and shrugged. He clapped for her.
Austin set the tie aside and looked at his phone. “I’ll be back,” he said, pressing a button and putting it up to his ear. There was no one on the phone, but he walked away as if he needed to answer it.
Marielle glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed heavily. 8:26. How long would he be gone? She had no idea. Exactly how long did it take someone to satisfy an urge they’d never be able to fully satisfy? Her heart sank as he disappeared. Where would he go? His car? The bathroom, and pray no one was in there? She tried not to wonder too much.
Taking a deep breath, she sat and finished off the rest of the water in her glass as she thought about Vincent instead. He’d kissed her. He’d actually kissed her. He’d shown her something other than mild interest. Her mouth still burned for more.
Marielle watched the couple for a few minutes and determined it was definitely their second date, maybe their third. They had the look of joy and excitement that occurs when you’re just getting to know someone you like, that playfulness that overtakes you and causes you to become a little kid again… She forced herself to stop thinking about it.
The clock said 8:39 when Austin slid in next to her. He smiled and said nothing. She knew. He knew she knew. He’d leave it there.
“Vincent kissed me,” she blurted.
He kept his shock to a minimum but pressed his lips together. “I need a drink. Want something?”
“Nah.” She waved him off. Alcohol and Austin was not a good idea. If she was out with Austin, she wasn’t drinking, at least not enough to get too tipsy. For now, she was being extra careful.
***
Austin went to the bar and leaned over it. The woman who was making drinks had her back to him, so he tapped her shoulder.
She turned. “Yeah?”
“Smooth…” It hung in the air for a moment.
“What?”
He shook his head, changing his mind. “Mind Eraser,” he decided. She nodded and set off to mix coffee liqueur, club soda, and vodka.
Catching sight of someone with shoulder-length dark hair gazing at him, he turned to see a woman in her mid-forties. She looked away, her expression abashed that she’d been caught. She tried to hide her embarrassment by shifting her gaze to the opposite side of the room, but she was unsuccessful.
Smirking, he stared her down, waiting for her to look back. He knew she would; they all did. When she finally gave in, she flushed again, straightening a little.
“Sorry, I thought I knew you for a second.” She leaned back against the bar with both arms stretched out a bit. The position gave her back a small arch that played on his mind the way he suspected she subconsciously wanted it to. She wore a tight pencil skirt, a blouse that was unbuttoned enough to show cleavage, and black heels. She reminded him of a pinup poster from the forties.
Austin moved a little closer, leaning his right side on the bar and reaching for the bowl of mixed nuts sitting there. He took a few and rolled them in his hand. “No, you didn’t,” he said dismissively, gambling that if he told her the truth but acted indifferent, she’d be more interested. It worked.
She looked at him, incredulous. “What?”
He smiled at her knowingly. “You didn’t think that you knew me,” he repeated, never breaking eye contact with her.
She broke into a smile she obviously couldn’t control. “You’re right. I thought you were hot.”
He smiled in the way he knew got attention. “I like honesty.” The bartender gave him his drink, and he tossed it back in one large swallow. The acrid flavor refused to appease the demon raging within him.
Her expression cleared a little, a look that said she’d stepped over a line and was now a bit horrified. “I’m married.”
He smirked, more interested now even though his head was screaming, Who are you?
“Well, I like that, too…”
Her cheeks filled with color again. She was having a hard time keeping eye contact with him. “Why?” she pressed, curling the end of her hair around her index finger.
He flicked a brow at her and shrugged, giving the rest of her a quick glance. “It’s fun.”
When he sat back down next to Marielle, he didn’t need to tell her he had a phone number in his pocket, or why. But she still knew. He knew that she knew. He hated himself.
***
Marielle went in to the lab after Austin called it a night and drove her back to Valorant at her request. It was just after nine. She could only imagine that he was going home to a flurry of texts. Despite the loud music they’d sung along to at the top of their lungs during the drive over, she’d seen his phone light up at least once.
She found Vincent, Kirra, Sabine, and Klara all busy when she got there. Vincent was studying his papers with a frustrated expression.
“This is never going to do.” He sighed. Then he spotted her and put the papers aside, smiling. “I need some more brain power,” he explained, glancing at everyone else in the room.
“You do?” Sabine growled, making it sound more like a statement.
“Yeah, I need some extra help. I need you and Marielle to escort me to a secret place. I know someone who has something that can help.”
“Could you be any more vague?” Sabine snarled.
Vincent turned to her and shrugged a single shoulder. “I could, yes,” he replied with a coy smile. Sabine rolled her eyes and turned away, shifting some things on her table as Vincent tried to hide a smug smirk.
Marielle stepped closer to them. “Wait, so what are you saying?”
“I need someone to take me to an undisclosed location so I can meet up with my man, and he can help us with John.”
“And we’re just supposed to trust you?” Sabine asked without looking back at him, then waited a beat before throwing over her right shoulder, “Again?”
Vincent simply gave them all a large smile.
***
Marielle wasn’t sure why Liam gave them the pass. Maybe he assumed Vincent would sneak out anyway, or he wanted to see what would happen. Regardless, Sabine and Marielle soon found themselves driving Vincent to a place near the docks, a dark, seedy neighborhood filled with bars and back alleys.
In one such alley, Marielle stopped the black Valorant SUV, and all three of them got out. They stood in the middle of the street, waiting in the silence-laden fog that was settling in near the water’s edge. It was quiet, and the cool, damp air smelled like sea salt. Marielle thought she saw a rat scurry away under some trash. Anticipation caused her heart to pound.
Vincent began to walk slowly, leading the way.
“What does any of this have to do with John?” Sabine demanded.
“I told you, I need more brain power,” Vincent explained.
“About that…?” Marielle asked as they made their way down the alley, but she didn’t get to finish the thought before Vincent interjected.
“I know a guy,” he replied confidently.
“I thought you said that you didn’t trust anyone but yourself,” Sabine hissed.
Someone moved from the shadows into view, and both women froze in shock as the fog parted enough to reveal a man they recognized instantly.
Vincent straightened, grinning as though he was seeing a long-lost brother. “I don’t.”
Sabine unholstered her gun and, practicing perfect trigger control, trained it expertly on Chamber’s face. She held herself so still that the only thing that moved was her hair, gently ruffled by the wind.
Chamber smirked at her and sauntered toward them. Both Vincent and Chamber lifted their left arms and simultaneously pressed buttons on their watches, then dropped their hands. It was uncanny to the point of confusion, more like seeing a reflection in a mirror than watching a double. Marielle could almost hear a theme song under their movements, they were so precise.
Once they were close enough, they clasped hands and pulled one another in, patted each other’s backs, then let go. They were complete copies of each other. The only major difference was that Vincent had removed his vest earlier in the lab, and was in his button-up shirt and a white lab coat.
“Tu as de bons goûts, mon ami,” Chamber said, hands in his pockets as he turned toward the two women.
“Sabine Callas.” Vincent introduced her.
“Appropriée.” Chamber bowed slightly, but extended no hand to Sabine. His charm stayed on, however. “Enchante,” he said, then glanced at Marielle and back to Sabine, who was still pointing her weapon. He lifted his index and middle fingers and passed them back and forth between the two a few times. “Are you two sisters?”
“No,” they said in unison. Sabine’s reply was harsher and more filled with bitterness than Marielle’s. Chamber smiled at this.
“Well, this is ironic,” Sabine growled, her eyes moving between the twins.
“Nothing we do is ironic,” Chamber said.
Marielle looked from Chamber to Vincent. “Do?” she pressed. “Implying that you two have met before?”
Neither answered her. In fact, they continued to stare at each other in a strange way, as if they were admiring one another a little too much.
Vincent nodded at Chamber. “Chamber.”
Chamber nodded back. “Vincent.” Then he glanced at Marielle, his eyes moving down her body. He bowed slightly. “Marielle,” he said with a little too much familiarity.
He extended his hand to her. She took it, and he lifted it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on her knuckle. She shivered a little inside. This wasn’t Vincent, but it was… Every bit of her was confused.
Marielle turned to Vincent, glaring. “He knows my name,” she said heatedly, removing her hand from Chamber’s. “You two have talked before.” She considered their lack of surprise and the brotherly hug they’d given one another. They were entirely comfortable with each other. “Of course you have,” she said, tilting her head to one side.
Chamber smiled wickedly. “More than once, mon chéri.”
She looked at Vincent, a million questions in her eyes. He cut his gaze to her and gave her a small, forced smile. “You knew not to trust me,” he reminded, but his tone was too compassionate to sway her mind at this moment.
Chamber was checking Marielle out again. “Don’t even think about it,” Vincent growled.
The other man straightened and smirked at his double. “Tu ne peux pas m’en reprocher d’essayer.”
Vincent flicked an eyebrow at Chamber as if to say, “I know something you don’t know, but you’ll find out in a second.”
Not catching the hint, Chamber continued, “Magnifique, mon pote. Superbe.”
Marielle tried to hide a smile. “You do know I speak French, right?”
This news didn’t seem to faze him at all. In fact, he looked overjoyed, maybe even a little thrilled. “Well, I do now.” He paused and gently raised an open hand to hip level. “Sabine, you can put your gun away. I am no threat to you.”
Sabine shook her head.
“Sabine, you know he can get away in the blink of an eye,” Marielle pointed out.
“If my bullet doesn’t impale his pretty forehead first,” the other woman jeered.
“Did you call me pretty?” Chamber said, putting the same hand to his chest and drawing back a bit, feigning shock.
Sabine almost gagged. Chamber grinned, raised his right hand, and snapped his fingers. In a flurry of purple, red, and gold, he was gone. Sabine aimed her gun one way, then the other. Unable to find him, she pointed the weapon upward at the windows of a nearby building. Vincent and Marielle watched this play out in fascination, Vincent smiling proudly as Sabine’s movements grew more frantic.
“Now about this favor…” Chamber said, approaching from behind, hands in his pockets again. Vincent laughed when Sabine jumped, although she was wise enough not to fire.
“Be grateful you’re not dead,” she hissed.