The Gypsy Twins


 “What could have led them here?” (In French, girl’s voice)

 “What does it matter?  We have to get rid of them.” (In French, man’s voice)

“No!  We can’t do that.”

What else can we do?  We don’t know them.  They smell of trouble.”

At least, I think that is what they were saying as I came to.  My French is rather rusty and from a few lifetimes ago.  Kinda like the recognition of who they are.  A smile creeps across my face and I blink my eyes open.  My hands are bound and I’m sitting on the floor of a brightly lit storage room.  Although, along one wall, is an elaborate display of bladed weaponry.  Morena is slumped against my side, tied up as well.

I can hardly believe what I feel and what I see.   The young woman and young man, vampires, obviously twins, are standing in the middle of the room.  The woman/girl, dressed in her black T-Shirt and long flowing skirt, is leaning towards her brother, pleading.  Her brother stands stiffly, stylish in a  perfectly fitted maroon silk shirt and black slacks.

“It’s good to hear you’ve kept your mother tongue alive, mes enfants.”

The twins freeze, perfect mimics of each other now.  They turn to me slowly, the only difference being her eyes are wide, his eyes are fierce.

“‘Course, to be quite honest, if you hadn’t spoken it, I might not have made the connection.  You’re a long long way from Catalina.”

Lucy leans in first, Maurice grabbing at her arm.DSC02573

In perfect English, not a hint of accent, “Who are you?  Why have you come here?”

Maurice then leans in as well, half to protect his sister, half out of his own curiosity.  “You smell of dark creatures.”

My smile deepens.  My heart confirms it as my mind recognizes the tics their countenance, hidden under new features but still plain as day to me.  “Ma petite Lucienne.  Ma brave Maurice.  My gypsy twins.  You’ve grown so big!”

Both twins look perplexed but anger and fear has turned to wonder on her face, suspicious and disbelief on his.

“It can’t be,” Maurice says, leaning back.

“Tante Giselle?” she says, leaning further in, taking my face in her hands, Maurice still gripping her arm but her straining away.  She sniffs both my cheeks, then tilts her head back, eyes closed.  She then exclaims, and hops in place, staring happily at me.  It’s one of the first times ever that my past has been happy to see me.

Maurice releases her arm.  “It can’t be.  Can it?”

Lucy begins to cry, black tears streaming down her alabaster cheeks.  “Silly brother!  Smell her!”

Maurice begins to lean in, to Lucy’s right side but then freezes.  I look down, confused, to see a small rugged knife, welded by Morena, sticking into Maurice’s shirt.  Morena raises her head quickly as Maurice’s eyes turn slowly toward her.

“Back up,” Morena commands.

“Put that away, Morena,” I chide, completely aware of its futility.

“Give me one good reason, Sophie.”

DSC02547“Allow me,” Maurice seethes.  “First, because my Tante Giselle told you to.  Second, because it would do you little good.”

He grabs her wrist and leans his face close into hers before jabbing the knife into his side without a word or a flinch.  A small wetness appears on his shirt, nothing more.  He removes the knife and twists her wrist until she cries out.

“Maurice!” I object.

He releases her wrist, stands woodenly.  Lucy looks confused but goes to him, pokes him gently in the side, watches him grimace with an arched brow.  I look to Morena who had managed to cut her bonds without anyone knowing.  She rubs her wrist for a moment but then frees me.

“I take it you three know each other.”

Maurice sulks and Lucy puts her comforting arms around him.  They begin to move together in unison, looking down at Morena and myself, a unified front.

“Yes, may I introduce the Burim twins, Lucy and Maurice?”

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