We Are All Sinners (Saints #1)

1. Prologue 1

Prologue 1

Brixon

I walk into my father’s beach house carrying a box containing his urn, a peace lily, an orchid from his funeral, the largest bottle the liquor store had of his favorite Blood Oath bourbon, and an overly large and overstuffed manila envelope that was given to me by my father’s best friend, Darius, who is the Saint Diocese, also known as the King of the Saints.

My dad had been his right-hand man since childhood. Just like I have been with his son Liam, my best friend, since we were kids.

Noah is our third to complete our hierarchy. His parents both died in a car accident when he was four. Darius and his wife Penelope adopted him.

Noah’s dad was my dad’s right-hand man, just like I am Liams, and Noah is mine. The line will continue with our children someday just as it has for generations.

Letting out a sigh, I take his urn from the box first and place it on the mantle over the fireplace next to his other half.

I stand back admiring the symbol of the Saints etched into the dark shiny metal of his urn. It’s a stark contrast to the pearl white urn with a beautifully hand painted black dahlia that my father had made to hold my mothers’ ashes.

I unload the rest of the contents of the box onto the large ornate driftwood coffee table in the center of the room, tossing the empty cardboard box towards the back door.

I open the bottle of bourbon, letting the hearty rich aroma take me to the last memory I have drinking with my father, and pour a hefty three finger pour that I know would make him proud.

Holding the glass up to my father’s urn, I say the words to him that I couldn’t manage to get out at his funeral, “Rest in peace pops. I hope I can live to be half the man you are. I miss you already. I love you.” I toast the best man I’ve ever known, getting choked up before downing the entire glass.

It’s been eight years since we placed my mom’s urn on the mantle and toasted to the most incredible woman that either of us had ever known. She always saw the good in people, seeing their light when others couldn’t. It’s one of the many things that made her so special.

I had hoped pops would make it to Christmas. His heart just couldn’t take anymore.

I pick up the bottle and watch the amber liquid slosh into the crystal tumbler giving myself another long pour.

The large, overly stuffed manilla envelope sits on the table almost taunting me. I stare at the two bulging silver prongs keeping its contents hidden from my view. I can’t help but wonder what Darius meant when he handed it to me with almost imperceivable hesitancy.

Darius is one that has always kept everything close to his chest, never revealing his true intentions.

He waited until the service was over, handed me the envelope, and whispered in my ear, “These were your father’s final wishes. Think of it as your last task before taking over his endeavors completely. You do not have a time limit on this one, but you are expected to begin after your grieving period. The boys will be with you, Brixon. There are instructions for them as well. I will always be here for you if you need anything. Enzo was as much my brother as Liam and Noah are to you. He was a great man Brix, and so very proud of the man you have become. Good luck son.”

I have two weeks to grieve, no more no less, then it’s back to work as usual. The way of the Saints, just in time for Christmas and New year’s. He acted as if I hadn’t taken over all business aspects for my father over the last couple of years. I had to be the one to keep things going when he was too sick to take care of it.

He had to coach me through most of his business dealings at first, but I got the hang of everything very quickly and hired Nadia and Tasha to take care of any and all day-to-day operations. Since then, everything has been smooth sailing.

I plop down on the couch and wait, knowing Liam and Noah will be here any minute. They are probably sitting in the driveway trying to decide if they have given me enough time to grieve alone.

I hear the front door shut and watch as they both come in with their heads down, refusing to look at me.

“Guys don’t come in here all weird. Dad would have wanted us to throw a party to celebrate his life, not be all limp dicked and sad.” I try to lighten the mood.

Noah looks up with a hint of a smirk and nods, “He’s probably pissed we don’t have a couple blondes attempting to suck our souls through our dicks already.” He makes me chuckle slightly, knowing he is probably right.

Liam follows suit as they both come in, each carrying a bottle of Blood Oath Bourbon, setting them on the coffee table next to my bottle. Noah pours a glass handing it over to Liam as he gets comfortable sinking into the off-white, overstuffed, leather couch.

“Decided not to open the envelope without us?” Noah nods to the bulging envelope on the coffee table as he pours a glass for himself and gets settled.

“What did dad say this was again? I mean he is always cryptic, but there’s really no time limit. Is it even a real game?” Liam huffs.

He prefers a challenge in all things. Plus, we thought it might have been one of the games that our dads would give us to play with time limits to see if we could win.

It started off with us as kids, small stuff. Boys, you have forty-five mins to figure out where we hid your favorite toy, pet, the list went on with then saying, “this is a teamwork exercise, work with your brothers to accomplish the task.”

What we thought was just a childish scavenger hunt, was the beginning of our training to becoming the Saints we were born to be.

As we got older, and more mature, so did the games. I think we all let the games get out of hand and we have continued to have fun with them because we knew we would have to take over eventually. We wanted to stay young and carefree for as long as we could.

We realized quickly that games were tasks given to a Saint to complete. Theft, murder, planting things, selling drugs, the list goes on.

“It’s not a damn game anymore Liam. We aren’t kids, for fuck’s sake. It’s time we grow up man. Sorry, but it’s my dad’s dying wish and my final task from him. Darius wouldn’t have given it to me if it weren’t important to the Saints. He did say you will both be with me, so I figured I would wait for you two to finally come in. How long did you both wait in the driveway?”

They both look at each other then back at me.

“Twenty minutes. It took us twenty minutes going back and forth arguing to give you some time with your dad, and to look in the envelope, if you wanted to.” Liam replies as he tips up his drink with raised eyebrows. Never one to really beat around the bush.

I put my hands up in retreat, knowing he could pull rank on me and tell me to shut up. I know he never would, but he knows he can any time, and I would have to deal with it.

I pick up the large envelope, dumping its contents on the coffee table for us all to see our task as a whole and to be able to put the pieces together. It’s always been how we work the best.

There are dozens and dozens of pictures of a pretty brunette. There are several of her going into a witchy apothecary in the French Quarter in New Orleans. I remember the area very well. I grew up there.

There are three white envelopes, one addressed to me, one to Liam, and one to Noah. I hand them to the guys and move on to the two pretty purple crystals.

They look like two halves until you put them together, you can tell it’s missing a piece. There are also photos of a house on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans with an address on the back. I also notice a large key ring with several labeled keys on it.

“Who the hell is this chick?” Liam mumbles lowly as I pick up another picture of her, flipping it over for it to say the same name as all the others.

“Genevieve LaBlanc,” I reply as I exhale looking at the back of yet another picture of her, handing it over to Liam. They all have her name on the back, along with the date it was taken.

“Here is one of both of you. Looks like high school maybe.” Noah hands me the polaroid photo, shaking his head in confusion.

“For the life of me I swear I can’t remember taking this photo. I don’t recognize her. Let’s open the letters and see what the hell this so-called task really is.” I finally give in as I cock my head to the side, cracking my neck as I rub it.

I pick up my glass and sit back with the letter addressed to me. I take a long sip, letting it sit on my tongue, savoring the flavor, before I swallow. I set the glass down as I open the last thing I will ever read from my dad.

I take a moment to let the reality of it all sink in.

He really is gone.

I’m never going to walk into the beach house again and laugh seeing him watching a game with his favorite blonde bombshell, with perfect tits of course, sucking his dick while he enjoys a cigar and his favorite bourbon.

I let out a shaky breath as I look at the unmistakable handwriting and start to read.

Brixon,

Well son, if you are reading this then I’m finally back with your mom where I belong. This is me fulfilling the promise I made to her before she died.

It’s time to grow up and change things for the better. The girl in the photos is your final task from me. She is to be protected at all costs. She is not going to be easy to deal with and will challenge you every chance she gets, but she is worth it. Her life will be in your hands, as well as yours will be in hers.

Before your mother passed away, she made a solemn promise to her best friend, Daphne—the woman who raised the girl in the photos. She’s of both Saint and witch blood, just like you. She’s not just important to you; she’s crucial to the very fabric of the Saints. You owe it to her, and to yourself to see this through.

Your mother and I believe, as Daphne did, that she would be your covenant. Together, the two of you are destined to transform things for both witches and Saints for the better.

Her original birth records are in this envelope, she does know about the Saints but has no idea who she is to you. Be gentle with her, she has no one left that she knows of. Daphne died a couple of years ago, and her grandmother Astria several years before that. Daphne raised her as her own, but she was technically her aunt. Daphne raised her brother’s daughter. Mark Boudreaux is her biological father. The birth mother labeled as only, V.D. we are still looking into.

Her birth father is under investigation. He has gone into hiding now, and I don’t know how much time will pass before you get this. I have taken a turn for the worse now and wanted to make sure you have all the information you need before I go.

Boudreaux could have already been taken in, or it will be happening very soon. Darius put them under investigation when Alec contacted him with new information regarding the trafficking rings in New Orleans.

Her father has done unspeakable things that she will not take lightly. Reach out to Alec, he will be expecting your call once you and Genevieve are reunited.

You won’t remember this because even though your mother says that the witches, ancestors, or whatever your mother liked to call them at the time, put a spell of some kind on you both. Daphne knew of a prophecy that had to do with butterflies and swore it was the ancestors’ doing and not to go against their wishes.

It was for a reason.

Here’s the truth: about the night of your nineteenth birthday. You and your friends went down to the bayou and got drunk. You ended up rolling your SUV and crashing it into a tree.

When we discovered the wreckage the next day, the car was inexplicably covered in red and blue butterflies, as if they were shielding you from harm. It’s nothing short of a miracle that any of you survived.

When you woke up in the hospital, with no memory of what had happened and no recognition of each other until you saw your brothers, I started to believe what your mother and Daphne had always claimed.

We just wanted you both to live. She believed that if we kept you apart, you would both live if and when the ancestors decided to bring you back together. When the time was right.

Your mother wanted it broken by your twenty-fifth birthday, but I couldn’t face you with this. I had hoped you would fall in love again. I see now that love just isn’t in the cards for you if I don’t give you this chance.

You and Genevieve knew each other as kids and grew up together. I know this doesn’t make sense now, but it will.

You loved that girl more than anything in this world before the two of you were torn apart. Remember that when she is testing every ounce of patience you have.

You have to understand that with this task comes a price. Once a century or so, a witch and a Saint are born destined to be together. Their souls unite as one which sets off the curse.

It’s a curse that has plagued us since we brought witches into New Orleans from Rome, basically turning them into slaves and breeding machines.

They aren’t wrong for wanting their revenge.

Your mother and Daphne often spoke to the ancestors, and they all believed that following through with the spell and allowing the two of you a life would ultimately break the curse if you never found each other.

That’s why we moved to Florida right after you turned nineteen. We had to keep you apart to let you live. Your mother died regretting taking that love from you, seeing how cold towards relationships you became.

I can’t die knowing you could at least have a chance at that love now.

Genevieve is a special little witch, just like your mother was. Her gift has to do with touch. You will both remember each other when your eyes meet for the first time. At least I think so.

Ease her into this life and make her understand how important she is. You will understand more when you see her again.

I know this is confusing and sounds insane, but trust me when I say, it’s been written in the stars since the day you were born. Take ahold of your destiny and don’t let her go.

Don’t waste your life with fucking pets just to make the time go by, it’s all bullshit if you don’t have someone to share it with. Build a life and enjoy every moment you get to love her.

I don’t know if all this witchy shit is true, but your mother believed in it with all of her heart. I had to fulfill my promise to her and give you back your heart. You have been without it for too long.

I never let myself love again after your mother died. I don’t want you to miss out on love all together.

I love you son,

Pops

I look up as a tear slips out. I wipe it away quickly and clear my throat, realizing the guys are both looking at me with wide eyes as they hold their letters, looking mortified.

I down the rest of my bourbon before standing up.

I start to pace, freaking out just a bit. I’m trying to think this all through, I mean, is what he is saying even possible?

“I’m twenty-nine, for fuck’s sake. I never imagined I’d settle down. Hell, I’ve never even liked anyone enough to go on a damn date! And now, supposedly, I’m in love with this girl? What the hell?” I finally stop and shift my focus back to Liam and Noah as they read through my dad’s letter. I see their eyes widen in shock at the new revelations.

“Well, looks like we will all be settling down soon.” Liam grumbles as he downs the last of his drink and grabs the bottle emptying the contents in his glass.

I skim both of their letters as well and fall back on the couch as I wipe my hand down my face, like it’s going to clear my thoughts right now.

“We knew this day would come. Time to man up and be the Saints we are destined to be.” Noah says with a huge grin as he sets his glass down and opens the next bottle.

He is just fucking thrilled to settle down. I think he has always longed for love but has never been in love. Not really anyway.

I never have either. Well, I thought I hadn’t.

Noah fills all three glasses and hands them out as he raises up his own, “To Enzo Blaze, the best Saint that ever lived! Let’s party tonight in his name! Since we will all be tied down to one chick for the rest of our lives soon enough!” We all toast and I give a little laugh knowing that is exactly what my dad would want us to do.

I pick up one of the photos of my little witch and study her a bit. She isn’t my typical type, curvy with big tits. If anything, she is the opposite of my type, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that there is something about her that is familiar.

I’m intrigued.

She is a natural beauty, doesn’t wear much makeup in any of the photos, has tattoos, wild curly brown hair, a nose ring, and apparently small perky tits by the looks of them in this particular picture.

You can tell she just got out of the pool she is standing next to. Little droplets of water still drip down her face and neck. I trail my eyes down wishing that black bikini top wasn’t blocking such perky tits and hard nipples. I smirk as I put the picture in my pocket, deciding to keep this one for my eyes only.

“Apparently, I have a covenant to meet. We’re heading back to our old stomping grounds boys. We leave for NOLA tomorrow!”

“I’ll set everything up with Tasha and Nadia to take care of the restaurant and the club.” Noah replies as he taps away on his phone.

“Let’s find something close to Miss Lablanc that's on the market. I plan to ease my way into her life. See who she really is. We’ll use these next two weeks to get to know my little witch and stir up some trouble in our hometown before we start getting too comfortable with the idea of settling down.”