PART 1: VINCENT
Chapter 26
Marielle felt strange at home alone. She fed Felix and sat on her couch for a long while, feeling the rush of blood Austin had perpetrated upon her. She was excited… aroused… dissatisfied. She hated Austin for this… and yet, somehow inside, she knew she would never—could never—truly hate Austin. She loved him too damn much. She’d probably be smiling and joking with him by morning. He understood her… He went in deep, made her feel safe and childlike, and she enjoyed that. She enjoyed playing with him and laughing with him.
At the same time, she wanted Vincent in so many ways. She decided to go back to Valorant. It was 9 P.M., but Marielle didn’t care. She wanted to be with him—to be protected by him. She was also curious about whether or not she could move through him the same way she’d moved through Austin. She might try, or at least ask if she could attempt it.
She braided her hair and freshened up, then headed for the subway and Valorant. She laughed as she walked down the sidewalk; she had a car, but she never used it. Gas was too expensive, and she rarely had spare money. The dress she’d bought had taken up a little less than a tenth of the cash Vincent had given her, so she could have easily filled the tank and avoided taking public transportation this late at night. However, she was already two-thirds of the way there, and turning back would be too much of a hassle.
Marielle got on the subway car and sat down. The only other passengers were an old man at the end of the car in a tawny coat, obviously on his way home from work; and a large, dark-skinned woman reading a romance novel a few seats down from her. A man in a trench coat and a Stetson hat that hid his face had entered with her, as well as two young men in their mid-twenties and an elderly lady whom Marielle instantly wished she could convince to speak with the old man. Both were obviously single, and a quick glance at them revealed that they had similar tastes and interests.
The two young men kept looking her direction and whispering, and before long their scrutiny began to concern her. Occasionally, one laughed. The one on the left was taller and had curly blond hair, while the other was dressed in baggy clothes with a baseball cap.
The curly-haired one bit his bottom lip at her, and she turned to look out the window, watching the brown walls of the underground pass by. She was used to this on the subway. As a beautiful woman, she encountered it almost daily. If she ignored them, they almost never did anything.
One time, a guy had leered at her for a long time, not in an “Austin Rancor” or “Vincent Fabron” kind of way, but more like he’d had a weapon. That particular creep had gotten off before she had, and thank God, she’d never seen him again. A few men had tried to ask for her number or talk to her. She had mostly ignored them, although she had given out a false number once or twice.
Trying to ignore the stares of the two boys, she pulled her cell out and scrolled through text messages from Austin. In her peripheral vision, she saw one of them point at her, and the other laughed again. She sighed and tipped her head forward, hoping that her hair would hide her face a little and they’d take the hint.
The one with curly hair got up and approached her. Great. The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with this creep. He sauntered over with one of the lamest attempts at a cool walk with a hitch in his step that she’d ever seen.
“Excuse me, miss,” he started. She was already internally cringing. “I lost my number. Can I have yours?” His friend thought this was hilarious.
“I don’t have one,” she said tightly. Now what?
“You gotta phone in your hand, don’t you?”
“Oh, was that what was bothering you?” she asked with a grin, and she slipped her cell in her pocket and leaned back against the seat, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Aw, now don’t be like that. I asked you nicely like.”
“Yeah, real brave coming from a fetus,” she hissed. She heard Sabine in there somewhere, and if she hadn’t been a bit irritated, she might have smirked.
The boy sat at her right side. She glared at him, trying to give him every signal to leave her alone. “Come on, my friend over there thinks you’re probably nice. Are you… nice?” he taunted.
Marielle wished she had Vincent’s guns in her skin. This was the first time she had truly considered the benefit of carrying a weapon. “No, I’m even meaner than your mommy. Now go back home and clean the single socks off your bedroom floor.”
The other teen covered a low, empathetic groan with his fist. Goaded by his friend’s reaction, the blond boy went from pathetic gangster wannabe to someone filled with rage, waiting for an excuse to lash out.
He grabbed her wrist, but she drew back. She might have been stronger than he was. The old woman who had gotten on the car covered her mouth in concern. She looked like she was ready to call for help.
The teen reached for her wrist again. “Hey, come on now… I want something nice. Are you gonna give me something nice? Are you gonna smile for me?”
Marielle growled and shifted back, ready to fight him if necessary. That was when she sensed someone else approaching from behind. At first, she was afraid it was the other boy, but a quick glance revealed that he was still seated. The one in front of her hesitated, as if trying to understand what was happening.
“Pardon, monsieur,” said a familiar voice.
Her heart sprang into her throat. Vincent! She saw the Stetson drop to the floor out of the corner of her eye, and she turned, looking up at him. He stepped forward and grabbed the young man’s wrist.
He yelped and tried to jerk it away. “Fool! Let go!”
“I don’t think so.” Vincent bent the boy’s hand backward at an awkward angle that forced him to his knees. “The lady is obviously not interested,” he explained calmly. “Apologize.”
Whimpering, the boy tried to wrench himself free. “Ren! Ren, ice this fool!”
The other young man stood and shambled over, trying to look menacing. “Yo, yo, you better let go of ma boy there, fool, or we fixin’ to mess you up!”
“You don’t want to do this,” the Frenchman said.
“Right, like this Buddy Holly lookalike is gonna mess with us?”
Vincent turned to Ren with a look of rage so intense it made him pause. That beat was long enough for Vincent to materialize a pistol from his tattoo and press the barrel to the boy’s forehead. “You want to play? Let’s play,” he growled, low and full of intention.
“W-wha…?” Ren couldn’t get a word out.
Vincent held the gun in his right hand steady as he continued to drive the curly-haired blond to the floor, his strength still threatening to break bones. “Excusez-moi?”
Ren was shaking now, his eyes crossed as he stared at the muzzle against his forehead. “C-come on, Otto… Let’s just forget it and ditch the bitch.”
“I think that would be a wise idea, mon amie,” Vincent replied with a smirk.
Everyone in the car held their breath. The Black woman who had been reading was staring at Vincent, her mouth open. Then her gaze roved down his body and back up, and she gave him a little head swivel and an admiring “Mmmhmmm.” Vincent smiled and inclined his head, acknowledging her compliment.
The car slowed, the doors opened, and Ren went tripping backward off the train. Vincent jerked Otto off the ground and tossed him after his “boy.” Both of them stumbled and looked back into the car, incredulous.
Vincent turned and bowed to them both. “Please enjoy one another’s company. You are truly made for each other,” he said as the doors closed and the train began to move again.
Those left on the car clapped. Vincent collapsed the pistol back into his arm, and the tattoos returned.
“That’s a good book,” Vincent commented to the Black woman. She smiled and tucked her lips in momentarily, then fanned herself.
He sat next to Marielle with his legs crossed, put an elbow over the back of the seat, and laced his fingers together. Marielle had, of course, already figured out that this wasn’t her Vincent.
“Chamber,” she greeted him flatly.
“You don’t know when you’re being followed, Marielle.” He shrugged a shoulder and put his hands in his pockets. “This is not good.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“Are you…? You’re saying you were following me?” Swallowing, she paused to process that. “Vincent has you following me,” she said with a heavy sigh as she leaned over her knees.
Chamber shook his head. “No, no. He did ask, but I only did it tonight.” He leaned in a little and looked both ways before whispering, “I was in Pakistan.” He pulled back with a small wink.
“To kill someone?” she mouthed.
A small nod. “But yes, I was following you.”
“Why?” she asked, tight-lipped.
He shrugged again. “Some people turn into dark things at night,” he replied grimly, and she noticed he was looking her over. Something in the way he did this was different from other men, although he and Vincent had it in common. She didn’t like it, but it piqued her interest nonetheless, whereas those two creeps who’d just been evicted made her shudder. “It only makes you more beautiful,” he continued, turning on the charm.
“Oh, please. Don’t try it,” she growled with a playful smile. “And stop grinning,” she added, giving him a light tap.
“Please do not mistake my smile.” He forced the expression off of his face. “I take this all very seriously.”
“Are you here to see Vincent?”
“No, just to make sure you get to Valorant. Our new acquaintances are not too friendly, and we don’t need you dead.”
She swallowed and thought for a moment. “Vin—Chamber… do you know why they want me?”
“Who can say?” There was a pregnant pause. “I believe Vincent knows… but I also believe he is revealing things to you as he thinks you can handle them.”
“Why can’t I handle everything now?”
“Some things, Marielle, are… just too difficult to truly understand, especially when we’re dealing with doppelgangers, and twins, and… death.” He looked distant for a moment. “I know that many of those at Valorant are having a hard time with it.”
“You seem to be doing okay,” she noted.
“Vincent and I met long ago. We don’t treat each other as something to be feared. We think of one another as… two halves of the same person. I am him. He is me. The same, but… different. Same blood, slightly different pasts.” He mimed juggling for a moment. “Twins, if you will.”
“Slightly different? Did your wife die, too?”
He shook his head. “No, I have never been married.”
She considered that for a moment. This sounded right regarding him. “But you date around a lot, don’t you?”
He smiled. “I have been known to have a pretty girl on my arm.” He paused, trying to hide a smirk and a flicker of his left brow. “At least for a night.”
She watched the wall outside the train again for a moment. The train pulled to a stop and people shuffled in and out. The dark-skinned woman with the book got off, but gave Chamber a small smile before she did so. He gave her a big, obvious wink.
“Do you know anything about her?” Marielle asked, her gaze returning to him. “Vincent’s wife, I mean. Has he told you anything about her?”
Chamber was silent for a moment. “Oui.” He looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to say more. “Sa femme était aussi profonde que l’océan.”
Marielle fiddled with her hands. Well, that didn’t make her feel insignificant in any way. “Does he really like me?” she dared.
A slow, adoring smile spread across Chamber’s face and gradually turned into a smirk. “Of course, he does. What’s not to like?”
She didn’t reply, watching him observe everyone else, much like she did as a profiler. His brow knitted in concentration and his eyes scanned the train for potential threats. The lights flickered as the car swayed.
Finally, he turned back to her and smiled. She could tell by how he eyed the lock of hair that was resting on her temple that he wanted to reach over and tuck it behind her ear the way Vincent did. They really were the same person. She subconsciously did it herself, and he gave her a knowing smile before looking away.
“Chamber…” she began cautiously, “you know I was at Austin’s, don’t you?”
The ghost of a smile haunted his mouth. “Oui, I was there.”
Marielle cringed a little. “Were you listening in?”
He shook his head. “No, I was across the street, waiting.”
She nodded, relief relaxing her insides. “Are you going to tell Vincent?”
He cocked his head and smiled warmly at her. “I think what is going on between you and Vincent shall remain what is going on between you and Vincent.”
“What do you think is going on?” she pressed after a beat.
“I think that you are falling in love.”
She felt her cheeks fill with color but couldn’t stop her smile, even though she turned away and tried to cover it with her fingers. “Is it weird talking to me about… you?”
An embarrassed breath huffed out of his nostrils, and he chuckled quietly in his chest. “Oui.”
When they reached the last stop, Chamber exited the train with her and escorted her all the way to the facility. He strolled with his hands in his pockets, and she walked alongside him, her arms over her chest protectively. The August night was cooling off, and after her time with Austin, she was keenly aware of how much skin she was showing off.
Even so, she found herself enjoying this quiet walk. The moon was nearly full, and although the wind had picked up a little, stirring her hair, the night was still a bit warm. She could hear crickets all around, and Chamber’s footsteps as he walked beside her, his eyes on the ground.
Did he want to be with her now, or was he doing this as a favor to Vincent? Was this what they had been arguing about in the elevator a few days ago? She turned and smiled at him, wanting to see his response. His shoulders were up around his neck like he might be cold, and he kept looking at the sidewalk.
At one point, he jerked his gaze behind them and paused as if he had heard something, his hand out and ready to pull a gun. But after a moment, he resumed walking, dismissing the sound as nothing to be concerned about.
Once they reached the compound, he turned to her, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “Take care, Marielle.”
“Will I see you again?” she asked.
In response, he simply smiled expectantly, lifted his right hand, snapped, and vanished.
She sighed, stretching her hands up, then letting them fall to her sides. “I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said into the night in a singsong tone.
Crickets. She stretched again, waiting for a reply. None came.
“Okay, I’m going into Valorant now,” she said to the darkness as though talking to a petulant child who wouldn’t follow her. She took a few exaggerated steps. Nothing. “Okay, thank you, Chamberrrr.”
He leaned on the large branches of a tree, looking down at her from above. “You are welcome, Masin,” he whispered. Then he turned and jumped down.
***
When Marielle knocked on Vincent’s door, he answered quickly. She gave a dreamy sigh and went into his arms, pressing her cheek to his chest to feel the strength of his heartbeat.
He closed the door and drew her into the bedroom. “I’m so glad you came back here,” he breathed. She inhaled his scent: light sweat, soap, and aftershave. He’d put on a little cologne too, something woodsy. Her eyes fluttered, and she breathed him in again. He’d put on a pair of slacks and one of the button-up shirts she’d brought him.
“How’s John?” she whispered.
“He’s resting. They still have him in containment, just to make sure. So far, so good.” A small, romantic smile crossed his face. “Sabine has not left his side.”
Marielle made a little sound and pressed against him more, pushing further. Body to body, part for part.
“Trying to come through me?” he asked adoringly.
She looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around his waist. “How did you know?”
He smiled at her and pinched her chin gently. “You can’t.” She narrowed her eyes at him, questioning. “You can’t come through me,” he explained, a twinge of sadness in his tone. Then he backed away from her with a sigh and sat down in the chair. “You could only ever do that with one person in my dimension.”
Her eyes widened in horrified realization. “Austin,” she breathed.
He nodded. “You know… Good.”
“Good?” She went to the bed and sat down facing him. “Why is that good? I don’t want to be able to do that with just him!” Dejected, she put her face into her hands for a moment. She removed her shoes, trying to find a way to get more comfortable despite the clamor of her own mind.
“It might be useful later,” he said quietly.
“How… how?” She looked away and shook her head. “How can I only do that with him?”
“We were never able to figure it out. I have theories, but…”
She narrowed her eyes at him and leaned in. “Like what?”
Vincent shrugged. “You love him,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I’m not in love with him,” she growled.
“You love Austin with an unconditional love, Masin. He screwed up over and over and over again, but you never let him go. You always accepted him.” There was a pause. “But that’s just you, Masin. You’ve always been a very accepting, deeply empathetic, and forgiving person. Austin is someone you can’t let go.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s because”—he breathed out—”he needs you to not let him go. Otherwise…” Vincent’s voice trailed off. He took in a deep pull of air, then turned to her and smiled. “Anyway, we did try. We tried with everyone. Me, Liam, Klara… Hazal even tried once.”
“She did?”
Vincent smiled an odd smile, as if he knew something she didn’t. Marielle wasn’t processing any of this well. She didn’t want to be able to be one with Austin and not Vincent. What possible use could the universe have for that?
“What other theories do you have?”
“Something to do with your DNA and his?” Vincent shook his head, an expression of concentration on his face as if he was searching the caverns of his own mind for the answer. “I don’t know. I tested you both… I couldn’t find anything that explained it.”
There was a pause as Marielle leaned over her knees to think.
“Marielle… You haven’t… slept with him, have you?” Vincent asked, that sadness edging his tone again.
“No,” she scoffed, forcing her tone to suggest he was insane to ask.
He hid relief well. “So, what now?”
She shook her head and leaned back against the headboard. “I was thinking you’d want to watch me again tonight.”
“I would, yes.” He smiled. “But I won’t join you, I’m afraid.”
She blew some hair out of her eyes and filled her lungs with air. How could she break him…? “Do you want a show again?” she teased.
“Are you going to give me one?” he replied, an adoring smile coming over his mouth.
They were silent for a moment, their cheeks reddening and little giggles coming from both, mostly her.
“Take off as much as you want,” he offered through an enormous grin. “I’m still not joining you, and then you’ll be naked and feel a little exposed.” He chortled, sounding a bit embarrassed for her. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added with a single flick of his brow.
Squirming like mad, Marielle flushed even more; she must have turned ten shades darker. She buried her face in her hands again. “Oh, Vincent,” she said, her voice deeper and full of laughter. “What you’re doing to me…”
“What am I doing to you?” he dared. She stopped breathing. “I’d like to know.”
She swallowed hard and went silent, unable to answer. Where’s that brave girl now, Marielle?
She had no way of answering this question, really. She could, of course… but that meant describing what was happening to her body in blunt detail, and that just wasn’t a place she wanted to go yet. The control he had over her was agonizing. She was losing her body and her mind, and he’d barely touched her since they met. A small kiss, a few presses of her hair behind her ears, a pinch on her chin. God, what was it about this man that was driving her insane?
Marielle slowly lay back and took a moment to stare into his deep brown eyes. They met hers with fervor and fire yet such unshakable steadiness as well. When would he let go? She needed him to let go…
Just like last night, she reached up, unzipped and unbuttoned her dark shorts, and slid them down over her hips and legs, then tossed them aside. Again, he took in a deep breath and swallowed hard. She could see his entire throat move up and down.
She was even more exposed tonight, since she was wearing a form-fitting tank top instead of a baggy T-shirt. She wanted to take off more this time, wanted to dare him to come to her and touch her, but she froze against the pounding of her heart and the heaving of her chest.
He cupped his chin, his eyes wandering down her body, then back to her face. “You’re so beautiful, Masin. So perfect.”
“What do you mean?” she pressed.
He swallowed hard. “I don’t know if you know anything about the face and the golden ratio… but you are damn near perfect,” he breathed. His eyes roamed her body again, claiming it with his gaze. “What are you doing to me, Masin?”
She rolled over onto her side, her breasts threatening to come out of her tank top—and yes, he was watching. “What am I doing to you, Vincent?” she mocked. “I’d like to know.”
He gave her a closed-mouth smile, returning the same snarky secrecy she’d just given him. They both laughed again, like little children discovering their friend’s bodies for the first time… excited, nervous, uncertain.
She lay on her back again, twisting the ends of her hair between her fingers. “Was your pillow me earlier?” she dared.
He smirked at her, his index and middle fingers holding up his temple. “My pillow is always you, Masin.”
Just like the night before, she couldn’t breathe well; air caught in her chest and refused to come out steady or even. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She knew that if she tried to sit up again, she wouldn’t be able to.
“I-I’m losing control,” she panted, the tears welling a little. She was all too aware that her voice had come out sounding like a scared little girl.
He gave her a soft, delicious smile that told her this had been his plan all along. “Good,” he whispered, so faintly she barely heard it. Again, she couldn’t feel her limbs, and the heat was bathing her in a need to shed more clothing. “And no,” he added, “I’m not joining you.”
Her heart pounded with such intensity she knew that if she stayed quiet, he would hear it. “Why?” she begged.
“I have to wait. You know that I have to wait, don’t you?”
Marielle gazed at him, eyes narrowing. “For what?” she pressed, trying to sit up. She didn’t have the strength in this moment. “What do you want me to do, Vincent? Beg?” The words came out deep and sensual, laced with need.
“You can’t break me,” he murmured, still as ever. “No matter how many times you try, Masin.”
She let out a ragged breath and closed her eyes as a tear finally fell. Ashamed, she covered her face. “What is wrong with me?” she moaned. She’d never cried in need in her entire life.
To her shock, she felt his hand around her wrist. She opened her eyes, but the look on his face wasn’t lust or desire, it was alarm.
“Get your clothes on now,” he said, quickly pulling her up.
She obeyed, finding her shorts and slipping them on. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s here,” Vincent replied, his voice trembling a little.
“Cory?” she gasped.
He put his ear to the door. “No.” His gaze flicked to her. “Fade.”