would—Lyne would become the more superior wrath. His fighting was more extensive and his emotions, so uncapped and free, would take over his common sense. One day, Lyne would be greater than him.
It bothered Auro naught. His strength and anger would be what kept them alive until they had Talon’s full power.
“Lyne,” he started, brushing his thumb along his brother’s jugular. Matching crimson eyes met his. “What news of the woman have you found?” He had let his brother have the honor of seeking the woman.
Suddenly, Lyne’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “The best! It seems, my brother, that she has been living under our noses the entire time.”
Auro cocked a brow, his fingers tangling in the thin hair at the nape of Lyne’s neck. “Is that so, dear one?”
Lyne nodded, leaning back into the chair. “Remember the woman’s nurse maid, the last time around? The weird occurrences that she spoke of, and how they corresponded with Talon’s former birth?”
He nodded, pleased at the turn of the night. “Oh, I remember. How could I forget?” he asked dryly, already knowing that his brother’s information would sound foolish at best.
“She was originally born in Florida,” Lyne started, ignoring his droll comment.
Auro nodded, telling him to go on without words. The smile that Lyne gave him was salacious. “My men reported back to me that the nurses who birthed her were willing to give them some interesting information. Before I get to that, I would like us both to recall what the midwifes told us the time before last.”
He waved his hand for Lyne to continue when he looked pointedly at Auro to make sure he was listening. “Yes, well, they said the fires flickered, then burst. The candles through the room exploded, and even some of their utensils seemed to spark with life.”
Auro knew the words were spiced to make his claim more interesting, yet he listened with interest, appeasing his brother. “They were not born in the same year, mind you, but at the same time—midnight. Don’t shake your head at me with that foolish smile, brother. What I’m saying is serious.
“He was born at midnight, on the first of January. Same for the woman, but she was born only several years later. Six years apart, yet their birth is concurrent. Just as it was all of the other times—it was the one thing that we never accounted for.”
Auro knew he was right, but couldn’t bring himself to believe what Lyne was saying. It was a silly notion, one that he would not be able to support until he saw the proof. “How do you know that that is what’s linking them, brother? Millions of babes are born at the same time,” he pointed out, moving his hand down his brother’s shoulder in a caressing motion.
Lyne smiled, taking Auro’s hand to place a small kiss upon his knuckles. “The night those two were born, the hospital lost its electricity. They were born in two different hospitals, the only babies born that night, and they both caused a great amount of lost energy. Our men reported back to me that by the time the children were out, the wives had turned into something close to demons. The way that the nurses described it, they said, was as if the mothers had become possessed—“
“And how are our men getting this information so quickly when she was born so far away?” Auro inquired, raising a brow.
“I sent them to Orlando some weeks ago,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Brother, you amuse me so,” he said fondly, taking Auro’s arm in his and rising from his seat.
Lyne was so jubilant to be talking of his discoveries, that he simply could not stay still. His brother’s arm was cold in his, yet he knew that Auro was feeling the same thing. The house was chilly, but held no effect on them.
“And she lives here now?” he asked, taking them aimlessly down the hall.
Lyne nodded, smiling with appreciation. “She moved here several years ago, in fact.”
“And what is this woman’s name? I had not asked before because I wished to let you have your fill of detective work—I know that it pleases you,” Auro commented, leading his brother down the left and back. Dark curtains blocked sunlight, enhancing the chill that was a permanent in the house. It was an inconvenience, and they always had to replaced the memorable works that were within their house when they became too damaged.