gloved hands, before she breathed a long sigh of immense gratitude. It was obvious the gloves softened the intensity of the blow of his hand, for she didn't have to look on the marking of his shame.
…should have stuck around to give her manners�
Her lips tightened. Lucien moved across the room and sunk appreciatively into the brocade upholstery of her sofa. She remained where she stood, and didn't realize the computer screen accentuated the gentle glow radiating from her.
“What I have to tell you hasn’t been recounted in centuries.” �
“I do love a good story,” she attempted with marked levity.
“You would.” He made an effort to glower and failed miserably.
“Amuse me, Lucien D'Angel.” She laughed at the sound of his name and shrugged. “I did some research, and some serious puzzling, and found your acronym is obvious.” �
“Acronym?” �
“The North American Department of Ghostly Experience League,” the corner of her mouth twitched as she recited the name of his paranormal team. “Your team is known as NADGEL, which is D’Angel tumbled about, I guess?” �
�…ah, stuck up as well as any celebrity�
“We are all entitled to small vanities.” �
His attention drifted to the scattered assortment of DVDs littering the coffee table and the copies of his books, the pages conspicuously marked with brightly colored florescent note tags.
Obviously, she’d done her research.
“As you already understand, we're twins,” he began, his focus drifting back to her. “Although, on general review, our similarities wouldn’t be recognized, since I was the frailest of the pair.” �
“I did notice that much from your painting.” �
…the artwork sucks�
Lucien was beginning to understand Eva's frustration with Reese's incessant chatter.
“Julian had the stature of my father. He was tall and broad shoulder, always in good health. I was otherwise, consistently suffering from one ailment or another.” All expression faded from his features as he began his tale. “I spent many a week confined to a sick room, near death, unable to breathe. Julian was my sole companion, besides my mother, since my sire abhorred weakness. To this day, I assume she concealed my ailments, saving my life. He wouldn't have held qualms about the weakest heir suffering an unfortunate accident.” �
“Oh, my,”� she breathed, her face strangely serious.
“My death wouldn't have been of much concern. It was a common practice of the era, although unspoken.” He leaned back into the worn sofa, his expression exhausted. “Tell me, how many castles have been renovated in the last one hundred years, where the bones of children were discovered in a well or under the stairs?”
Eva nervously echoed the movement he often executed, rocking on the heel of her slippers. The whiteness of her knuckles was obvious as she clenched her hands into fists, and Reese’s incessant prattling conspicuously stilled.
“My mother I trusted with my life.” He wearily closed his eyes as the image of the frail woman invaded. She’d been old before her time, broken and scarred by years of abuse. “Of my brother, I had supposed the same, only to be proven otherwise.” �
“Why?” �
“Julian would come to amuse me with lively tales of battles, and the oddities he encountered in a world I barely knew. One night, he asked if I had the ability to identify the others roaming the castle.” �
“As by others, I can assume the spirits?” �
Lucien nodded. “I, in my foolishness, revealed we shared the same power. We would regale each other of the various forms lurking in the bailey and towers. The halls were filled with the images of an old king, knights, women, and children. There were so many, and they crowded the living world far more than the humans.” �
�…stuck your foot in it, didn't you? �
“Reese!” Lucien scowled warningly and the spirit shrugged, mock humility evident in his shimmering features.
For the next hour, he held her riveted with the tale. The words unfolded a story that brought vivid imagery to mind, of an old woman, and a fateful curse. After reading the horrible atrocities D'Angel the Destroyer inflicted on his enemies, Eva hadn't any difficulty in imagining the woman's fate.
“This is all too incredible.” She murmured when he finished, her thoughts pensive. The room temperature, despite the heater, dropped perceptibly and Eva's arms went about her body. “When did you assume the story bore some truth?” �
“I heard the account from her lips, for the old woman's death had been recounted to her by an unfortunate knight in my father's forces.” He supplied, his gloved hands resting on his knees