Lords of Discord Collection, Volume One

Chapter 1

One

Marcus leaned his forearm on the mantle, staring down at the cold, empty grate. From the hall, he could hear the insistent ticking of the grandfather clock as if the damn thing was counting each of the final seconds of his life with a steady determination.

The rest of the house was silent. The few servants he dared to keep around were still asleep in their beds at the top of the house for another couple of hours.

His youngest brother, Winter, sat in the dark leather wingback chair close to the window, turning a gold coin over and over again between his fingers.

Its shiny surface would catch and toss out flashes of light, but he paid no notice.

His gaze was locked on a distant point Marcus knew was not in the room.

One of his other brothers, Beltran, was reading a dusty science tome, seemingly oblivious to the fact that their lives were balanced on a razor’s edge. Tonight, everything was changing for them. Very likely ending.

The door to the library opened and Rafe, Beltran’s twin, returned, his violin and bow clutched tightly in one hand.

The hair at his temples was slick with sweat, and he looked a little pale, but his ever-present smirk twisted his lips.

Marcus straightened from the mantle and Beltran closed his book, his quick blue eyes sweeping over his brother.

“Any trouble?” Marcus asked.

“None other than I plan to ram my bow down Bach’s throat when I finally meet him in Hell,” Rafe muttered. He carelessly dropped his violin and bow in a chair as he marched over to a sideboard. He opened a crystal decanter and splashed some whiskey into a glass. “I’m so bloody sick of Bach.”

“Did you ever consider playing some Mendelssohn or maybe Vivaldi for her?” Winter inquired.

Marcus sighed heavily and Beltran shook his head.

“Yes, I’ve bloody tried Mendelssohn and Vivaldi. Do you take me for an uncultured hack?” Rafe snarled at his little brother.

“Yes,” Winter said with glee in his voice.

Marcus pushed away from the fireplace and stepped into Rafe’s direct path, toward Winter, his drink forgotten in his clenched hand.

He used his bigger frame to block Rafe’s view.

Rafe’s usually elegant appearance was a bit rumpled, with a starched white tie hanging limp and the top of his shirt open, exposing his slender neck and perfect pale skin.

His longish dark hair was in wild disarray about his head.

The ribbon he used to hold it back now missing.

For all his foppish ways and strict adherence to the latest fashion trends, Rafe’s body vibrated with hidden power and strength.

Rafe was a bit taller than Marcus with a leaner frame, but Marcus could still handle him if necessary.

They’d all grown up having one scuffle after another.

Fights were inevitable with four brothers relatively close in age, though bookish Beltran was the least prone to pick one.

Winter, on the other hand, seemed to revel in his ability to get under Rafe’s skin.

But then, Rafe loved to talk down to his baby brother, even though there were barely four years between them.

And Marcus remained the perennial peacekeeper whether he wished to be or not.

“This isn’t the time,” Marcus snapped.

Rafe’s lips twisted into a mocking grin, and he lifted his glass in a salute. “Why not? This could be our last chance.”

“Is she asleep?” Marcus questioned. He refused to acknowledge Rafe’s comment, even if he had been thinking it only moments earlier.

The sneer returned when he lowered his drink. “Yes, Mother is asleep.”

“Tonight’s hunt?” Beltran asked. Marcus could almost imagine him pulling out a bit of parchment upon which to make a note for his scientific journals.

“Fine.” His tone was a little less harsh when talking to his twin.

Rafe turned away from Marcus and approached the chair that held his violin and bow.

Placing his glass on a table, he picked up the instrument, showing more care now than when he’d entered the room.

“The hunt was uneventful. She seemed at ease tonight. Though she’s getting faster—there were a couple of times I was hard-pressed to keep up with her. ”

“Did she draw anyone’s notice?”

Rafe sat in the chair, his fingers sliding over the polished surface of the violin in a gentle caress. “Not that I saw. Dinner survived, though they may wake up a little worse for wear come morning.”

“Then the timing is right. We must act tonight. This quiet spell will make it easier for her to accept the change,” Marcus said.

Rafe snorted. “Except we never know how long her quiet spells will last. Tomorrow night she could wake in another of her black moods.”

“You’re also assuming that this will work at all,” Winter added.

“We need to decide.” There was a soft clinking of a chain and a click as Beltran opened his pocket watch to check the time. “Aiden should be here any minute now.”

“I think we should alter our original plan,” Marcus announced.

Three sets of blue eyes jumped to him, and he straightened under their scrutiny.

He’d been giving this a great deal of thought over the past several years.

Their original plan had been full of brotherly love and unity as well as all the rash, impetuousness of youth.

But it was flawed and dangerous. He’d made his decision a couple of years ago but had known it was futile to bring it up sooner so they could all argue about it ad nauseam.

Aiden’s imminent arrival forced them to remain brief.

“And how, dear eldest brother, do you think we should alter a plan we all agreed to more than fourteen years ago?” Rafe’s words dripped with derision.

“It is foolish for Aiden to change us all at the same time. Not when we’re unsure of how it will turn out. I believe he should take me to his home and change me there while you continue to watch over mother. If all goes as planned, I will return and take over her care.”

“No!” Winter sat up in his chair, balancing on the edge as if he meant to leap to his feet and launch himself at Marcus.

“And what if all does not go as planned?” Rafe demanded. “Does Aiden kill you on the spot? You just disappear from our lives without so much as a fond farewell?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.” Rafe crossed his arms tightly over his chest and directed his most mutinous glare at Marcus. “We are sticking with our original plan. We’ve waited fourteen years for Winter to reach his twenty-third birthday. We do this together, or we don’t do this at all.”

“And if something goes wrong with all of us? Do you think it’s wise to leave Aiden alone to deal with the mess? What if he can’t?” Marcus countered.

“Actually, it’s highly unlikely for all of us to have trouble similar to Mother,” Beltran chimed in.

“Aiden and I have discussed it at length. Mother was troubled before the change. We all saw signs of it prior to her falling ill. I think we should have no problems tonight. I believe our biggest concern will be Mother’s reaction when she awakes tomorrow night, but the four of us should be able to manage her just fine. ”

“Bel, dear,” Rafe said with a smile. “We have no idea when our sweet mother started losing her mind. It could have happened later in life, and it could still be waiting for any of us.”

Beltran gave a little roll of his eyes at his twin, long used to his brother’s somewhat condescending tone.

The two brothers didn’t look much alike other than the fact that they had similar lean builds.

But where there were hints of muscle under Rafe’s tailored suit from his hours of boxing at Gentleman Jim’s, Beltran was slimmer thanks to his preference for hours spent in his library or laboratory.

“True, but I don’t think the odds are great that all four of us will be afflicted,” Beltran said.

“I still think it is best if I go alone first,” Marcus persisted.

“And then what?” Winter snapped. He rose to his feet and took a couple of steps closer to Marcus.

He was several inches shorter than Marcus and smaller in build—the smallest of all of them, but there was a fiery intensity to him that made everyone who knew him learn quickly not to dismiss him.

“Let us say that all goes well. Do we follow you one at a time? And how long would we wait to know that all truly is well?”

Marcus’s lips pressed into a hard, thin line as he quickly tried to weigh his words, searching for the right thing to say. He should have known this would be asked and prepared a better response.

Rafe chuckled, the sound ugly and almost cruel. “I think our overbearing brother means to go down this dark path alone.”

“Marcus?”

Marcus twisted to find Beltran standing as well, a look of pained concern on his face. “You would leave us behind?”

“Only one of us is needed to watch over Mother,” Marcus replied, trying to reason with them.

“Ever the martyr,” Rafe mocked.

“Yes, willing to sacrifice himself to an eternity of guarding Mother,” Winter added.

“You could still have normal lives,” Marcus said.

“And we’re just supposed to allow you to skip off to damnation alone?”

Marcus wanted to tell Winter that he was already damned.

That his life was doomed to be a living hell even before their mother had been transformed, but no matter how close he was with his siblings, he could not bring himself to voice his personal shame.

No, this was his only option. If all went well, he’d be dedicating his life to something good for the world.

And if not, then at least his miserable existence would be over.

“We’re in this together, Marcus,” Rafe said. “It was decided fourteen years ago, and we’re sticking to the plan.”

“Five years,” Marcus said. “If all goes well with me, we meet again in five years and Aiden changes another if you still wish it.”

“No,” Beltran said, surprising Marcus with the hardness of his tone. “We do this together tonight, or we don’t do it at all.”

Rafe plucked the strings of his violin, sending several discordant notes winging through the room. “Looks like that’s three-to-one, old man. You’re outvoted.”

Marcus shook his head, an odd mix of warmth and sadness stirring in his chest. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

He couldn’t say he was entirely surprised. Despite their constant bickering, they had always been close and eager to protect one another. No matter who or what they faced, no brother ever stood alone.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Marcus looked over to see Beltran standing beside him, his expression resolute. “It does.”

“It’s decided, then.”

They all looked up at the new, deeper voice to find Aiden standing in the open doorway.

Marcus was sure there had been no sound of him entering the house or walking across the hardwood floor of the entrance.

The man moved as silently as a shadow. He was handsome with thick brown hair and rich brown eyes that seemed to catch and reflect the light the same way as Winter’s gold coin.

Sadness clung to Aiden like a damp fog. When they’d first met years earlier, he’d been so joyous and quick to laugh when he was around their mother, but with her declining health and then his unfortunate attempt to save her life, the sadness had become a permanent part of Aiden.

Marcus knew Aiden blamed himself for their mother’s current erratic state, but neither he nor his brothers blamed Aiden.

He’d tried to save their mother. That was more than they could say for the dour parade of doctors that had marched in and out of her bedchambers.

Now, fourteen years later, they were finally able to pursue a solution to their problem. And if this didn’t work, there was only one option left for their beloved mother and the four brothers.

“We’re ready,” Marcus said.

Aiden reached behind him, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door closed as he stepped fully into the room. He looked up at Marcus, his eyes taking on an eerie copperish glow in the dim light of the library. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper, “but this is going to hurt.”