Page 22 of Changeling (The Incubus Saga #2)

It was strange seeing the scene play out this way, from outside the closet. He could see the whole thing, for the first time, when Gabriel burst in and overpowered their mother so quickly, pushing her down onto the table.

"Where is he, Miriam, just tell me," Gabriel said, looking younger than they had last seen him, but just as ruthless and cold.

"Why are you protecting him? You have Nathan.

Isn't that enough? You managed one child that isn't an abomination, even though you went against the rules our family has held sacred for—"

"I don't care about rules, Gabriel, I won't give up my children," their mother said plainly, still without even an ounce of fear. "Not any more than I was willing to give up Owen. We're a family. You don't even know what that means."

Suddenly Nathan understood why Jim had been so distraught. Not because he had to relive this scene, not only because of that, but because the truth had been revealed that night, the truth that Gabriel was part of their family, they just hadn't been listening close enough to understand.

Nathan looked toward the closet when Gabriel stabbed the knife into their mother, waiting for the moment when he and Jim would escape.

As soon as he saw it, watching their younger selves running as fast as they could out the door, he turned to leave, and the scene began to fade even before he had stepped out into the hallway again.

Nathan didn't know what to say, but an entirely different revelation began to show on Jim's face as he looked at Nathan and read his expression.

"You already knew," Jim said. "You knew he was family. How long have you known?"

"He told me that night when he almost killed Sasha. He was Mom's brother. Our uncle."

Jim gaped at him. "And that's it? You were never going to say anything?"

"I didn't see how it could make anything better," Nathan said with more than a touch of defensiveness. "I was just trying—"

"It doesn't matter. You lied to me. You lied ."

"Jim..."

"Let's...just keep moving." Jim turned away from him. "Give me a couple minutes to get through the next room."

" Jim ."

But Jim wouldn't look at him and he didn't respond. He moved down the hallway and stepped into the next room.

It wasn't difficult to simply stand there and wait, because Nathan didn't feel like he could move. He felt numb. Deep down he had always known Jim would find out the truth eventually, but not like this. And not this soon.

"Nathan?"

Walter's voice was comforting, grounding. Nathan turned and saw his Spirit Guide standing beside him as if he had been there all along, which was more than likely true.

"Would you care for some company?"

Walter's limitations and cryptic responses could really get on his nerves sometimes, but the simple act of being there had made up for all of that a thousand times over on more than one occasion.

"That would be awesome," Nathan said, and managed at least half a smile.

Walter couldn't trigger the rooms, after all, since he wasn't really there.

There was nothing all that sad about the rest of the rooms, and yet Nathan felt a bit tortured by the sweet, domestic scenes he saw.

Him. Jim. Their parents. All of them, living happy, normal lives, despite a few treks to the Gatehouse.

It helped to have Walter there, especially since those were the years when Nathan didn't yet know Walter existed.

When Nathan reached room #20, the last of the rooms downstairs, he was relieved to almost be finished with the first floor.

He stepped over the threshold and the white room changed like all the others, this time into a bedroom.

It was early morning, and still a little dark.

Nathan could barely see, but he knew it was his parents sleeping there.

The door to their bedroom cracked open and two little dark-haired four-year-olds slipped inside. At first they were careful and sneaky, but as soon as they got to the foot of the bed, both of them scrambled up on top of the covers and each moved to pounce on one of the sleeping figures.

Watching, Nathan expected his parents to wake up with a start, but apparently they were ready for this attack. Just as little Nathan and Jim lunged, Miriam and Owen Grier were up, flipping the boys over onto the mattress and tickling them mercilessly.

“Daddy!”

"Mama, stop!"

“Gotta plan those sneak-attacks better, kiddos, or you’ll never get one up on your old man,” Owen laughed with a wide dimpled grin like Jim's. His hair was dark brown, not quite black like their mother's, and his eyes were a warm honey gold.

“Caught again, huh?” said Miriam, ceasing her tickle assault on Nathan, while Owen continued to tickle Jim.

“Mama, help!” Jim called out through his giggles, writhing on the bed.

She grinned and immediately reached over to begin tickling Owen instead.

"They were wonderful people, Nathan," Walter said, watching the scene beside him. "You were both very lucky to have such parents. For all your resentments, you have many blessings to be thankful for too."

"Yeah," Nathan said, "I just hope I can have a few of the more current blessings a while longer."

“I wan’ pancakes for breakfast!” Little Nathan jumped on the bed.

"Yeah, pancakes!" echoed Jim.

Owen reached over and hauled Jim onto his lap.

“Well,” Miriam said, pulling Nathan in close much the same way, “I suppose we might be able to do pancakes.”

“Yay!"

"Pancakes!”

Miriam and Owen both laughed at their boys' exuberance. “You better help, then,” Owen said, getting out of bed with Jim lifted up into his arms. “What happened to that rule about no getting up before seven on a Saturday, huh?”

The real Nathan had seen enough of the domestic scene.

Seeing things like this made him think too much about what might have been if his parents were still alive, and that didn’t lead anywhere good.

He watched for a moment longer, though, as his mother hoisted his younger self up to follow after Owen and Jim.

"Come on, sweetie, you can't let Jimmy do all the work without you. You have to take care of each other."

"I take care of Jimmy all the time, Mama."

"Oh, you do, do you? Even though you're my sweet little baby?"

Little Nathan squirmed as his mother nuzzled his neck, completing her trek to the bedroom door. "I don't hafta be the oldest!" he protested.

"That you don't, sweetie. You can look after your brother just fine as you are."

Nathan knew that the woman in the scene couldn’t hear him, but he hoped the real thing could, wherever she was. “I got him, Mama,” he whispered, “and I’m not gonna let anything happen to him.”

Without meeting gazes with Walter, because he knew his Spirit Guide would be all sympathy and concern and he wasn't sure if he could handle that right now, Nathan headed out of the room and straight to the entryway to find the others.

Jim was standing there alone, waiting for him.

"Hey," Nathan said, not sure how else to begin.

But Jim didn't look as upset anymore. His expression was somber, but not angry or accusing, since he had watched all of those heartfelt scenes as well. "Do you ever...think Mom and Dad knew it would turn out like this someday?" Jim asked. "You...being the only thing holding me together?"

Nathan stared for a moment, not sure how to respond. Then he knew exactly what to say. "Dude, I'm pretty sure it's been the other way around just as often."

Jim smiled.

Nathan smiled back.

Truce.

“Hey...where’s Sasha?” Nathan questioned. “Did he go on without us?”

Jim frowned as he turned to stare up the staircase. Nathan turned to look as well. There was enough light pouring in from the risen sun now that they could make out more Gaelic carved into an overhang of wall at the top of the stairs.

“Above, the journey is longer, but it will appear as smaller steps," Jim read. “My guess is it means the second floor has bigger jumps. Starting with…” he trailed for a moment before turning back to Nathan, “twenty-five. Nathan, think . What would Sasha see of his life twenty-five years ago?”

That seemed like such a silly question at first since Sasha was twenty-five years old, but then Nathan remembered that these rooms were very specific, and technically Sasha would be a few weeks old if he were to step into a room marked #25.

Nathan’s eyes widened as he looked at Jim and understood immediately why Sasha hadn’t waited for them. The brothers hurried up the stairs, not so much worried as slightly concerned over how Sasha might be reacting up there.

When they walked through the archway of the second floor they came to a similar landing as down below, splitting off into two doorways or leading up another flight of stairs to the third floor. The correct path looked to be the same direction as before so they headed left.

It was a little too quiet for Nathan’s liking as they made their way to the first door. It indeed had a prominent #25 above it amidst the explaining Gaelic and, as soon as they looked inside the room, they understood why the silence was so thick.

It was a living room, simply furnished, modest, with shag carpet and a sofa in the middle.

Sasha was crouched next to the coffee table just in front of the sofa.

He had the blankest expression Nathan had ever seen on the incubus.

Sasha could put on a mask with the best of them, but this was different.

He didn’t seem to notice they were there, but neither of them dared enter the room and risk ruining this for him.

There was a man sitting on the couch, his head lolled back and his eyes closed gently in sleep like he had simply drifted off. In his arms was a tiny bundle, a baby boy only a few weeks old with the brightest little tuft of red hair.

Before Nathan or Jim could think to say anything, a woman’s voice called out.

“Deklin!”