he got close enough for the porch light to illuminate his features, Cyrus gasped. Zeke had stopped aging when he met Stella, so he appeared as though he was in his early thirties, not fifty-seven. At fifty-three, Cyrus looked like an older version of Zeke, both taking after Jonas.
“You look just like I did when I was younger. Brother?” Cyrus lowered the rifle as he took in Zeke’s countenance.
“Yes. One of many. May I come in?”
“I… yes. This is…” Cyrus shook his head, then opened the door, holding it for Zeke.
“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Although I think I’m going to need to add some alcohol to mine.” Cyrus placed the rifle on a rack by the front door.
“I would love some coffee.” Zeke followed Cyrus farther into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. Cyrus’s house was a two-story cabin. The lower level was an open concept with only a few doors, one which led out back. A wide staircase rose to a loft overlooking the downstairs. “Nice place you have.”
“Thanks. Dad and I built it when I graduated high school. I always knew college wasn’t for me. I grew up on the ranch helping raise cattle. I was more at home atop a horse than in a classroom, but I also wanted a little bit of freedom. Their ranch is about three miles down the road.” Cyrus must have been up for a while since the coffee was already brewed. He handed Zeke a mug. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
“No, this is perfect. Thank you.”
Cyrus took his own cup to a cabinet where he added a healthy dose of whiskey to his coffee. “You said something about many siblings and life or death?”
“I wasn’t lying about the siblings. There are fifteen of us still living. An older brother was killed several months ago, and I recently found out one of our sisters is really a niece, but that’s a story for another time. What I’m about to tell you is going to sound far-fetched and unbelievable, but I need you to keep an open mind, and when I finish speaking, I will show you proof.”
“Proof of what? And what about the life and death situation you mentioned. Was that a lie?”
“No, just not as dire as I made it sound. Cyrus, have you heard of Jonas Montague?”
“The scientist who cloned the first baby? Yeah, everyone’s heard of him.”
“Jonas is our father.” Zeke always started with that. Sometimes it went over well. Others?
“Are you saying we’re clones?” Cyrus downed the whiskey and coffee mixture, then poured a mugful of liquor from the bottle he’d placed on the mantle. A lot of drinking and pacing accompanied these talks.
“No, not at all. We are the biological children of Jonas and his mate, Caroline.”
“Mate? You mean he didn’t wed the mother of his kids?”
“Here’s where the story gets strange. Jonas is a Gargoyle. Meaning he appears human, but he has a shifter inside that can come out. Unlike stories about werewolves who fully shift into their animal, Gargoyles retain most of their human features when they shift with the exception of wings, claws, and fangs. The females don’t have wings, nor do they have the same impenetrable skin the males do. Our mother, Jonas’s mate, is fully human, making us half-bloods. The difference in the two is that full-bloods transition for the first time around puberty. Half-bloods don’t transition until they meet their mate, and since you have yet to transition, you haven’t met yours yet.”
Cyrus, who had been staring at Zeke, burst out laughing. Zeke had been met with that reaction more than once, so he let his fangs drop and extended the claws on his free hand. Cyrus’s laughter abated, and his eyes widened. “What the fuck?” His eyes darted to the rifle by the door.
Before Cyrus could take a step, Zeke set his coffee down and sped across the room to stand in front of the weapon. “Did I mention super speed? We have extraordinary strength too. If you’d feel better holding the rifle” — Zeke pulled it down and held it out to Cyrus — “I’d be okay with that, but please don’t shoot me in the head. One, it’ll hurt like a mother, and two, you’ll be the one cleaning up the mess.” When Cyrus just stood staring, Zeke replaced the rifle in the rack. “Cyrus, I’m your brother, and I would rather die than hurt you. And no,