Passionate Obsession by D.M. Mortier

Epilogue

Liam

Thirty years later…

It is really embarrassing to have parents who act as though they’re teenagers instead of grandparents. It didn’t help that they looked as though they were in their twenties like Colin and me, our sister, Zoe, and our little brother, Malcolm.

Mom had worried needlessly that she would age and that dad wouldn’t. Now with all of us looking as though we were siblings instead of parents and children, Dad finally started sporting a bit of grey at his temples about a month ago. Why my parents saw that as a time for celebration, I would never know.

We were planning Dad’s retirement—or should I say death? —as the duke and official head of our various corporations. However, he will remain the Director. Colin and I will alternate the title and CEO roles between us until our children or nieces and nephews come of age. That is, whenever we do get around to having children.

People still cannot tell us apart. A flaw we used ruthlessly to fool the world around us. Neither Colin nor I have gotten married yet. And we aren’t likely to any time soon, given our apparent lifespan. We want a love like Mom and Dad’s and are unwilling to settle for anything less.

Zoe, on the other hand, since she turned twenty, seems to fall in love every damn few years. She’s working on husband number three, with two children from her previous marriages. It seems that as soon as she has a child with the poor sap, she loses interest and moves on to the next “he’s so beautiful I have to have him” bloke. Mom has given up on trying to control her impulsiveness. She kept saying, “With age and maturity, she’ll learn.” Zoe is already thirty years old! How much more maturing is she going to need?

Malcolm, on the other hand, is the only sensible one out of all of us, at least that’s what he tells us. Only a year younger than Zoe, he became a neurologist and a geneticist, even though he has the same powers as Colin and me. He’s determined to understand what was done to us and how our DNA was altered. Mom claims that she doesn’t have a favorite, but we all knew it’s Malcolm. He’s her youngest, and he looks more like Dad than even Colin and I did. He even sounds like Dad, the little prick. And I think what sealed it was, although he has all the abilities that Colin and I did, he also has Mom’s abilities, but they are stronger in him than they ever were in Mom.

Dad, as the Director of the Agency, works mainly with Mom, Colin and me to run missions. Zoe helps sometimes, but her gifts are basically the same as Mom’s, and Mom is a more reliable agent. Zoe gets distracted too easily and thinks nothing of sleeping with our targets if they fall into her category of “too hot for prison.” I’m just grateful we have only one sister. With Zoe popping babies out every few years or so, Mom got her desired grandbabies, which relieves the pressure on Colin, Malcolm, and me to settle down.

With Mom and Dad headed for “retirement,” they will change their identities and move to Asia for the next decade or more. Dad can run the Agency from anywhere in the world, and we can still be a family, only in secret. Thus, our current presence at this final ball Mom is hosting. The local folks don’t know it is the final ball however, and Mom is having a blast catching up with her friends. The same friends who will be mourning their passing by next week, following Mom and Dad’s plane crash.

I drew the short straw, so I must be the duke first. Eye roll. Colin is still laughing like a loon at my dilemma because, while Dad was the duke, a married duke with his very much alive and in love duchess by his side, the local gentry and gold-diggers have had no avenue to pounce. Unfortunately, I am a very confirmed bachelor, and for some reason, women see that as a red fucking flag of a challenge. I’ve been hoping to convince Colin to draw straws again tonight because I don’t have the patience for this shit, but the bastard went out on an undercover mission without telling me.

I look across the room at the bevy of the vultures who are already waiting to pounce. A string of curses rolls off my tongue to the shock of a few old biddies standing nearby.

The sound of my parents’ favorite song fills the ballroom. Of course, I don’t have to look to know that Dad will have pulled Mom into an overdramatic waltz, dancing to the song of their wedding renewal ceremony from thirty years ago. They do this dance every year, most times in private with only us kids in attendance. They will be floating together fluidly, flawlessly, as though they are the only people in the room, not even trying to hide how much they love each other. I shake my head in amusement because the old biddies have something else to be shocked about. Although I don’t understand why anyone would be shocked by my parents’ antics. They love each other deeply and refuse to hide that fact, no matter who is present.

I want that someday. I want a passionate obsession that will last a thousand years and a thousand more. I will accept nothing less. Unfortunately, I have remained in the same spot too long because the horde is starting toward me. Ignoring them, I stalk out of the room, heading toward Dad’s study. By next week, my study. Fuck! There’s a bottle of a hundred-year-old whisky calling my name.