Chapter 3

Evander paced the living room, scotch in hand. It had been a while since he’d had a drink. He usually didn’t need it, but he needed it now. A message from Thomas at a time like this could only mean one thing. 

He opened up his laptop, logged into his mail also accessible on his phone, opened up the message, and once again read through Thomas’s message. Knowing Thomas, the message would be deeply encrypted, that was his specialty.  Thomas has always been highly cryptic and clandestine. He definitely never trusted the mundane messaging system. He would have to start decrypting the message as soon as he activated ‘the first shifter' since Thomas’s messages always had a time limit to them before they would self-delete. 

Who was the first shifter he was supposed to refer to? Evander thought to himself. Knowing Thomas, it was somewhere in the message plain as day.

He looked through the curtains separating the master bedroom from the living room. Clara was still fast asleep. Perfect, he thought, he had a phone call to make. She looked so peaceful though, he found himself in quite the dilemma; either he joined her on the bed or made the call he needed to make. 

What is he doing? He had to get his head in the game and set the wheels in motion. He needed to focus; she was just a pawn, yes, just a pun in what Evander could only hope was the last round of this never ending game.

“Hello?” questioned the voice on the other end. It was more a whisper than a voice. A grinding whisper.

“Thomas is in play.” Evander replied in a confident tone. This was happening and it was happening now. It’s too late for second thoughts.

“Understood,” came the ashy voice from the phone once again, “I’ll tell you when it is done.”

“Yeah…I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Evander hung up and placed the phone beside the laptop he was still staring at, trying to see beyond what he would expect and think more simple-mindedly. 

Argh! Thomas does always make this so frustrating for me, he thought, already giving up on the code. Instead, he settled for calculating, accessing the situation. He wanted a view from every possible angle, wanted to work out and exploit every possible contingency. Decrypting Thomas’s messages was one thing but what really mattered was the plan and everyone and everything involved falling in place.

The key to winning a war was not in fighting or dying for whatever your cause may be or whatever you believe to be right. No, the key to winning was holding out, lasting longer with more drive and passion. It was in giving your enemies enough time to eventually decide to die for their own causes and beliefs, leaving you the last man standing. Wars were mostly won by sickos who knew how to play with the mind and not by the bravest or strongest. For Evander, it was all about being ready to play the long game. Had he played this game too long? 

He could not see the starting fires anymore, couldn’t remember who threw the first punch but he knew he wanted to win this war, he needed to, he had lost the battle and it would be a cold day in hell before he would lose the war. The question plaguing his mind of late was if the war needed winning to begin with.

It did not matter anymore now. It did not matter what he wanted for the stakes were a lot bigger now and with bigger stakes came higher risks and bigger players. Thomas. He did not want to go against Thomas, no one- in their right minds- would or should.

Evander had tried to remember how this all played out for so long, how a culmination of centuries would all be decided by a single moment, a single act. He still could not pin point the genesis of this but one thing was sure. 

He remembered. He remembered everything. He could see the sparks that started the flame that tortured his very soul. It was all his fault, the blasted son of a bitch. Lucian. Just the thought of his name was enough to bring forward memories that he had spent the past centuries suppressing.

Lucian Snowe, the baron of Harstark, a man he had told his deepest desires and broke bread with, a man he called friend, a man he once recognized as blood, a brother. It was always ironic how life played out, Evander mused remembering the brunette currently at peace in his bed. 

We fight so much to get revenge for what was taken from us and end up losing more in the process. Yes, life sure was ironic.

Evander allowed those thoughts take him away, really far away that it could have been a different lifetime, but it wasn’t. He had lived it, felt the pain that came with it. His thoughts were like a train that had lost its conductor, moving forwards unable to make a change, go back or stop until he saw her face. The same thoughts became a gentle sail, trailing softly and unassuming of the dark storm that lay ahead, the dark storm that was Evander’s past.

Evander’s thoughts took him back to  eighteenth century England, to a recollection of his home, just outside Wampshire district where it was dirty and the streets smelled of burnt loaves and boiling hibiscus.

He got it! Thomas, you dumb genius!

Thomas had not made the first clue especially difficult for him, if anything, he had actually made it especially easy for him. All of his words were basically pointing at one thing, Easton University. Oxford had meant he was at their hometown and his, Thomas’s appointment as dean of student affairs at Easton University, meant Thomas headed there at one point and he must have met the first shifter required for the plan. 

He heard shuffling and looked through the transparent curtain to see Clara had started to steer. He shut the MacBook and pressed the home button of his iPhone XR activating the screen lock.

He rushed to the bedroom, making as little noise as possible. Lying on the bed, he hugged Clara from behind burying his face into her neck and planted a delicate kiss. 

She chuckled then, “Good day to you too.” 

Oh, that voice would be the death of me.

Evander tuned her to face him, placing a slow, lingering kiss on her lips. “I love you,” He breathed.

“And I love you even more,” she said, this time initiating the kiss. Evander broke the kiss then, remembering what he had just learnt.

“I have spoken to Thomas,” he paused, gauging her expression. He saw nothing like shock, suspicion, joy, he saw no emotion. “I would be going to meet him at Easton University to congratulate him.” 

At this she smiled, causing tiny, little creases to appear at the sides of her eyes. “I knew it couldn’t be that bad. So when are we leaving?” she questioned, sitting up.

“We are not going. I am.” He reiterated as her movements stopped and her smile dropped. 

“What do you mean you are? Like I told you earlier, I don’t have any engagements if that’s what you are worried about,” she assured, not sure why she felt like he was pulling away from her.

“I know, I know, but…” he said but moved to sit, his back to her.

“You don’t want me to meet your brother?” she asked, knowing the answer and hoped he did not say it.

“Yes.” Noticing the look of disbelief on her face, he quickly added, “But not because I don’t want you to, don’t get me wrong. Thomas is not er- how do I put this?”

Evander rubbed the back of his head, searching for a believable lie. “Thomas is not a very welcoming person. He has always been a troubled  person, you wouldn’t like him.” It was not a lie that she would not like Thomas, nobody ever did and he liked it that way. It was the Thomas being troubled part that was a blatant lie.

Clara knelt behind him on the bed, touched that he was thinking of her even when he was not sure how his interaction with his brother would go. He was priceless and she felt so lucky to be the center of his attention. She wound her arms round his neck, nuzzling her head into his neck like he did to hers earlier.

“Well I highly doubt I wouldn’t like him but even though that were to be the case, why don’t you let me see that for myself?” she offered softly.

Evander knew there was nothing he could say without causing a rift between them that would convince her otherwise.

“Alright then, if you are absolutely sure. I have no problem with you tagging along to Easton.”

“Wait, did you say Easton University?” she stopped playing with a long strand of his hair she had picked up.

“Yes. Why?”

“Remember the school I told you my parents were forcing me to apply at because it’s their Alma Mata?”

“ Yeah.” Evander whirled around, eyes growing wide. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

“Yup, it’s destiny.” She couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.