Page 25 of Twisted Ties

The journey is over far too quickly, my heart growing heavier and heavier as I slice through water, the bottom of my pants damp with it, leaving the busy commercial districts for the suburbs, out further to the edge of the city, where the land begins again, green and lush from the rain.

The dominating iron gates come into view first, twisted and molded together, keeping everyone away. As I draw closer, they part with a groan of metal, and slowly I weave my way inside, up the driveway, its dark borders neatlyclipped, blood-red roses dropping their petals across the ground, and drive up the incline to the house. It towers above me, dark and foreboding. The place gives me the creeps. Would do even if it was occupied by some other family.

I park up outside the steps that lead up to the bolted wooden doors, and watch as they open, the figure of a man slowly revealed.

My uncle.

9

Tristan

My cousin doesn’t seeme at first.

“You were summoned too?” I call to him.

He turns his head and spots me lingering halfway up the steps to the old family house.

“Yes.”

He looks tired, older. Dark rings beneath his eyes, his face unshaven, his hair longer than it was. His role as the authorities’ enforcer is taking its toll.

“Do you know what it’s about?”

He looks up at the house. “Yes.”

I sidle up to him, smacking him on the shoulder. He’s thirteen years older than me, but these days we’re the same height, same size, although where he is dark, I’m fair. You wouldn’t know our fathers were brothers. “You going to tell me then? I’d prefer to go in prepared.”

For a moment, he’s silent, clearly considering whether to tell me or not. It never used to be like this. Growing up, he was my hero. He could do everything I wanted to do. He used to sneak me out to the forest, teach me magic I wasn’t supposed to know at such a young age, show me things I wasn’t supposed to see. I idolized the man, even more so when he gave our fathers the finger and refused to take the position in the authorities they wanted, opting for the role of enforcer instead.

He’s been the black sheep in the family ever since. Not that he cares.

“I’ve bonded.”

My hand falls away from his shoulder.

Bonded? He always swore he wasn’t interested in a mate, in a family. It’s what he’d fought most with our fathers about. They’d planned for both of us to find respectable, powerful, highly regarded mates and to continue the Kennedy line. Grow our influence and power. Azlan insisted he didn’t want that. As an enforcer, he’d live a life alone.

I examine the side of his head. Despite the tired appearance of his face, his eyes have that glint, the glint of a man who has found and claimed his fated mate.

Without the family’s permission or approval, I’m betting. No wonder the summoning. No wonder his haggard appearance.

“Who?” I ask.

He turns his head and meets my eyes.

“I doubt you know her.”

I smirk. Yeah, the fathers will be pissed about that.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

His face remains completely passive, a blank canvas. “A young girl from the wastelands. An unregistered.”

The blood in my veins runs cold. “What’s her name, Azlan?”