Chapter 02 | Twin Troubles

Seven minutes later, Matthias reached his building and stopped at the gate.

Another woman was waiting there.

She stood with her back straight and her hands loosely folded, watching the street. Her gaze moved from a window to an alley, then to the corner behind him.

Matthias glanced at Belial.

Then back at the stranger.

She had Belial's face.

The same delicate features, the same pale skin, the same impossible perfection that made him forget what he wanted to say. Even their figures matched.

But her hair was silver, fine as silk and cut just below her jaw. It caught the streetlight with the cold sheen of winter frost.

When her eyes settled on him, he held his breath.

Ruby red. Clear and luminous as garnets held to a flame.

Her full-length black dress had the same simple cut and U-shaped neckline as Belial's white one. Its folds seemed to swallow the light, making her pale face and silver hair all the more striking.

There were two of them.

Two women whose beauty made the familiar street feel like somewhere he had wandered into by mistake.

"Astreal?" Belial stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"

"I surveyed the surrounding four blocks."

The woman spoke evenly, as though she were delivering a weather report.

"No active threats, surveillance, or anomalous spiritual signatures. I then positioned myself here to await the Master."

Her eyes returned to Matthias.

"It seemed the logical conclusion."

"Another you?" he asked Belial.

Before she could answer, the woman in black bowed.

"Astreal. Belial's twin sister, and your servant across every age."

She straightened. For a moment, her searching gaze rested quietly on his face.

"It is good to see you again, Master."

He shifted under the attention.

"I see. Well—"

"You are shorter than I remembered."

Matthias shut his mouth.

"Your previous incarnation was broader through the shoulders, also." She looked him over. "The current frame is adequate."

"Adequate?"

He'd never had strong opinions about his shoulders. Being compared with a previous set gave him one. But then again, he had nothing to be used as a reference anyway.

These are the ones I have. We'll all have to manage.

"Yes."

Beside him, Belial pressed her lips together.

He pointed at her.

"Don't."

"I haven't said anything."

He looked from one beautiful, expectant face to the other. There had to be a limit to how much a person could process before dinner.

"Come inside."

Belial went straight to the kitchen and set her grocery bag on the counter.

"May I use these?" she asked, opening the cupboard beside the stove.

"Yes. The pans are—"

"Found them. Thank you, Master."

Water ran. A pan clinked onto the stovetop.

Astreal stopped in the middle of the living room.

Matthias followed her gaze to the unread mail, then to the jacket on the sofa. By the time she inspected his shoes beside the door, he wanted to defend them.

"You have been living alone," she said. "This is evident."

"It's reasonably tidy."

She picked up his jacket.

"I will tidy it further."

"You don't have to—"

"I am already doing so."

He sat before she could decide he belonged somewhere else.

From the kitchen came a soft sizzle. Belial had pinned back her golden hair and was leaning over the pan, her white skirt swaying as she reached for the ingredients.

The smell made his stomach growl.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

"Soon."

Matthias looked away, embarrassed that she'd heard.

Astreal passed him with the mail stacked neatly in her hands. She placed it on the side table, squared its edges, and moved on to the shoes.

"Do the two of you always do this?"

"Do what?" Belial asked.

He gestured at the apartment.

"Take over."

Astreal paused with one shoe in her hand.

"Would you prefer we stopped?"

He looked at the cleared sofa, then toward the kitchen.

"No."

"Then we will continue."

She set the shoe beside its partner.

Matthias leaned back. Somehow, that had settled it.

At the first bite, he stopped chewing long enough for Belial to notice.

"Is something wrong?"

He swallowed.

"No. This is good."

Her hands relaxed in her lap.

"I'm glad."

He took another bite, then a third. She watched him with a smile that made him feel oddly guilty about all the convenience-store dinners he'd eaten before tonight.

Across the table, Astreal set down her chopsticks.

"You have questions."

"I'm trying to decide which one to start with."

"Then we will start at the beginning."

He lowered his bowl.

"Three thousand years ago, Belial and I were priestesses of the Ecclesiarchy."

Matthias glanced between them.

"Priestesses. Serving a demon lord."

"There were intermediate steps," Astreal said.

Belial's smile faded.

"We thought serving the Ecclesiarchy was an honor. We were young, and it was what we'd been taught."

"What changed?"

"We learned what its cardinals did when nobody was watching," Astreal said.

She folded her hands on the table.

"They wore their holiness in public. In private, they used their positions to take what they wanted. Eventually, they tried to take liberties with us."

Matthias's grip tightened around his chopsticks.

"Did they—"

"They failed," Belial said firmly. "We were not helpless."

He looked at her. She met his eyes without smiling.

"But we were finished with them," Astreal said. "And by then, we had already met you."

"My former self."

"Yes."

"So you went to him for protection?"

"We chose him," Astreal said. "We knew what he was. We also knew how he treated us."

Belial glanced at her sister, then down at her bowl.

"He was persuasive."

The warmth in her voice made Matthias wary.

"Persuasive how?"

"In various respects," Astreal said.

He waited.

Neither elaborated.

"All right. You left the Ecclesiarchy and became his servants."

"Yes," Astreal said. "And later, his wives."

Matthias put down his chopsticks.

"His what?"

"Wives," Belial repeated.

She looked hopeful, which made it harder to find an answer.

Astreal continued as though she hadn't just overturned the conversation.

"You granted us immortality and gave us new demon names. We have kept them ever since."

"Wait. Belial and Astreal aren't your original names?"

"Mine was Aisha," Belial said.

"Clysa," said Astreal.

He repeated the names silently, trying to fit them to the women sitting at his table. Former priestesses, immortal servants, wives.

His wives, if they were telling the truth.

He reached for his water.

"You understand how bizarre this sounds?"

"We have had longer to get used to it," Astreal said.

Belial leaned forward a little.

"You don't have to remember everything tonight."

He wished that were the only problem.

They looked at him as though he was someone they had finally come home to. He had learned their names less than an hour ago.

Part of him wanted to deserve that look immediately. It would have been easy to let their certainty answer for him.

But if he pretended to remember, what would he say tomorrow? How long before he hurt them worse than an honest answer would tonight?

"And you're here to continue?" he asked. "As my wives?"

Belial straightened at once. The emerald of her eyes brightened, and a delighted smile spread across her face.

"When can we share a bed?"

"No."

Her smile faltered.

"No?"

"Absolutely not."

Astreal released a quiet breath through her nose.

"Stingy."

"I've known you for a few minutes!"

"We knew you three thousand years ago," Belial said.

"I don't remember those years."

That quieted her.

Matthias rubbed his forehead, then lowered his hand.

"You remember being married to me. I understand that. But this is new to me, and I need time."

Belial looked at her sister.

Astreal gave a small nod.

"Understood."

"Time," Belial repeated, then managed a gentler smile. "We can give you that."

The tightness in his shoulders eased.

He stood and gathered the dishes.

"You can take the bedroom tonight. Both of you. I'll sleep on the sofa."

The twins looked toward the living room.

"The sofa," Belial began.

"Is small," Astreal finished.

"I'll manage."

Belial studied him for another moment. Then she rose with her sister, and they gave him matching little bows.

"Thank you, Master."

"Good night," he said.

They went down the hallway together.

The bedroom door closed.

For a few seconds, the apartment was quiet.

Then Belial began whispering.

Astreal answered, too softly for him to catch the words. Belial giggled.

Matthias stood at the sink with a plate in his hands.

He looked toward the hallway.

Do I want to know?

A second whisper came through the door, followed by a low laugh he hadn't expected from Astreal.

He turned on the tap.

The dishes, at least, were straightforward.

By the time he retrieved a spare blanket, the voices had faded.

He lay down on the sofa and tried to stretch his legs. His feet reached the armrest.

Astreal had been right.

He bent his knees and pulled the blanket over himself.

Three thousand years.

His bedroom was occupied by two women who claimed to have been waiting that long for him. One had cooked the best dinner he could remember, and the other had decided his body was adequate.

Now he was sleeping on his own sofa.

Matthias stared at the ceiling.

He ought to be more worried. He still had questions, enough to keep him awake until morning.

But his stomach was full, the apartment was clean, and beyond the bedroom door, someone laughed softly again.

The sound was strangely comforting.

He hadn't thought the apartment was lonely before. Quiet, yes, but he'd chosen most of that quiet himself.

Now he listened for another laugh through the door.

One evening. Don't get ahead of yourself.

He closed his eyes.

The questions could wait until breakfast.