Suzanne stood over Willem, staring down into his blue eyes. He sat on a couch in the palace of the count of Gent, and she stood over him with a collection of her things in her bag. She organized them briefly, idly, as she spoke to Willem. “I was surprised that you come to me of your own initiative.”

  “Gave my word, didn’t I?” Willem asked her. “You should know that I don’t lie.”

  “I figured you would try and postpone it as long as possible,” Suzanne said, looking around to make sure that everything was clear.

  “I was going to,” Willem admitted easily. “Just changed my mind.”

  Suzanne walked around, looking at her various instruments of study. “You have certain traits of my brother. He’s similarly self-centered. We had a rapport, because I could at least expect him to be predictably asinine.” She retrieved a set of instruments used for surgery, and laid them out neatly beside Willem.

  “There you go. Look on the bright side,” Willem encouraged, eyeing the tools. “Really, once you adjust… it’s like nothing changed at all.”

  Suzanne ignored his inane rambling, reading through one of the books that contained some information related to a text that she might conduct. She gathered some ingredients that she’d need for the next part. It was a particularly potent brew that she’d learned long ago.

  “I’m going to sedate you,” Suzanne said, looking back. “Knock you unconscious for an hour or two.”

  Willem gave a curt nod. “Alright.”

  “Just like that?” she asked, as she put together the mixture.

  Once it was all put together, she put it beside the hearth to warm it. It didn’t need to boil, but it was more effective warm. This would give him a terrible headache, but he’d go right to sleep.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that it’d happened to me,” Willem said. “I tend to have trouble refusing freely offered things, drinks especially.”

  “…maybe you’re not like my brother,” she admitted, putting her hand on the mixture. It was warm enough. She pulled it away, then brought it over to him. “Drink.”

  Willem took it, swirled it, and then downed it without hesitation. Suzanne crossed her arms and looked at him.

  “Now what?” Willem asked, handing her back the bottle.

  Suzanne took it. “We wait about twenty to thirty minutes,” she said. “You’ll start to feel drowsy soon, and then you’ll fall unconscious.”

  ***

  Suzanne had been reading some more of the information about the subject matter of souls when she heard a shift. Willem had leaned back on the couch, totally unconscious. She watched him carefully, shutting her book to observe anything, any changes at all. It felt a bit strange staring at an unconscious man—a man wearing her brother’s body. Then, she looked back to her text.

  It had taken her many, many hours of intense searching… but she had eventually found this.

  Lazzaro the Twin-Soul of House Ravenveld

  For the first twenty years of his life, Lazzaro was raised as a normal prince of the Ravenveld family. On his twentieth year of life, however, it is reported that his personality split in twain. One personality was described as a just statesman—the way in which Lazzaro himself had been raised. The other, however, was a ferociously mad beast, capable of dominating the battlefield and entire armies with ease.

  These twin souls were each capable of something that the other was not. While his berserk soul could easily manifest aura at a high level, Lazzaro’s original soul was decidedly pacific, seldom resorting to combat. When he did, it was at a much weaker level than his berserk soul could implement. Questioning of both of these people revealed that they thought of themselves as entirely separate beings, both sharing the first name alone.

  Suzanne reflected on that text, looking back at Willem as he lied there. She didn’t know whether it would be a curse or a blessing if that was the case. She flipped to a page whose corner she’d creased, and then re-read the part that she’d marked with a star.

  Notably, the twin soul was incapable of being fully incapacitated, the text read. If knocked unconscious, either via drug or other such method, the other soul was fully capable of assuming control. Indeed, it might be said that Lazzaro himself never truly slept—an invaluable trait in keeping away assassins, of which many threatened him his entire life.

  Willem’s body violently jerked forward, making Suzanne jerk her head over.

  “Could’ve just waited for him to sleep, twisted twit,” came a similar voice, but one that had markedly different intonations. They were whip-like, short, declarative.

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  And familiar.

  Willem van Brugh looked up at Suzanne. “Who am I kidding?” He pointed. “You were always the smart one, Suze. You figured out the puzzle, like always. By the goddess…” he stood up. “Head is pounding. Jansen’s like a damn elephant laying on my chest. Can’t move, can’t do anything except when he’s out cold.”

  Suzanne stood up. “It’s… it’s really you?”

  “Don’t talk. Just listen,” Willem held out his hand. “Been trapped in my own body for months. The man speaks the truth, though. He’s as clueless as I am. But I’m working on it, getting stronger. If you can, help me. If you can’t, help him. I’m learning a lot, tagging along, and while I can’t say I’m exactly pleased… this has been good for me.”

  Willem stepped forward, looming over her. “This next part is the most important.”

  Suzanne waited to hear his next words… but Willem fell back like a dead man, collapsing onto the floor of the count’s estate loudly. She rushed over to him as quickly as she could, then checked to make sure he hadn’t hit his head or otherwise cut himself. When she saw he was uninjured, she collapsed back onto the floor.

  Suzanne exhaled in disbelief as she realized that her hypothesis had been right. Her brother wasn’t gone, or dead—he was sharing the body with someone else. She couldn’t glean much from what had been said, but… apparently, Willem Jansen was suppressing her brother, somehow. Given his lack of inclination or awareness of the magical realm, she presumed it wasn’t deliberate.

  It seemed there was yet another twin-souled individual in the world. The last one had helped establish a thousand-year dynasty.

  What would the Willems do?

  ***

  “So, uhh… you’re saying I’m running twin tracks?” Willem asked, holding his head. “Got a mentally conjoined twin?”

  “Yes,” Suzanne said.

  “A two-for-one special? Double trouble? A package deal?” Willem rubbed his hands together.

  “Yes,” Suzanne repeated.

  “Two peas in a pod? A dynamic duo?” He started to laugh.

  Suzanne decided to stop answering, staring at Willem with the cold, icy eyes her father had given her.

  “Sorry. I like to joke when my head throbs in agony after a woman sedates me.” He rubbed his forehead, then looked up at the ceiling. “Good lord.” Willem rubbed his face. “Why did you even tell me?”

  “What do you mean?” she said, confused.

  “Why not just do something in obscurity, try and purge me?” Willem posed.

  “Just… murder you?” Suzanne said, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

  “Might classify as justified self-defense,” Willem argued. “I mean, someone uninvited breaks into your home… you do what you’ve got to, no?”

  “If someone is catapulted into your home by forces beyond either of your control, would you just stab them to death?” Suzanne said, a little flabbergasted.

  “Well, I’m non-violent. But if that weren’t true…” Willem contemplated it, then held up a finger. “That depends on whether or not they leave in a timely fashion.”

  Suzanne could only stare at him and scoff in disbelief.

  “Look, I joke around… but I’m also not joking,” Willem said, staring at her hard. “When the time comes for the little vacation that Willem van Brugh is taking to end, I won’t resist.”

  “You mean that you’d just accept death?” Suzanne asked, but realized he was deadly serious before she even finished the question.

  Willem nodded, then laughed as an idea came to him. “If you have to save me or the baby, save the baby.”

  “What about the things that you’ve built, the relationships that you’ve established here?” Suzanne insisted. “The moment that you die, all of that… it’s going to go away.”

  “Maybe,” Willem conceded. “But who knows? I woke up here last time. Who says I won’t just go body-shopping again?”

  “And you’re willing to take that risk,” she said.

  “Of course.” Willem crossed his arms and looked at her.

  Suzanne blinked. She might think it self-assured bluster coming from anyone else, but… for some reason, she could just tell that he meant it. He would earnestly sit by and watch as she purged him from her brother’s body. That sort of thinking…

  “My brother had that cavalier attitude, too,” Suzanne said, looking straight in those eyes of his. “He’d just rush in, heedless of what it meant. He’d face ten enemies on his lonesome, like death didn’t really exist for him. He had the same sort of… fundamental mental difference, let’s say, that you seem to have. But he was focused on martial prowess and power instead of business.”

  “Sounds like a great guy,” Willem said.

  “He was awful, but… I liked him, I suppose. Like him,” she rephrased, considering the fact that he might still be listening right this moment. “I need to think about this.”

  “Sure,” Willem said. “Yeah, I imagine this is quite the pickle. Consult who you need to, read what you have to. When the time comes, I’ll step aside, go on to the next life.”

  “For now… I need to be by your side when you sleep,” Suzanne said. “That’s the only time I can speak to him, apparently.”

  “Look, I’ll die for you, but I won’t adjust my schedule,” he said. “That’s asking too much. You’ll have to match your schedule to mine if you want that to happen.”

  “Y-yeah, fine,” Suzanne agreed, a little stunned by his casual words.

  “Excellent,” Willem said, rising. “Now, I’m going to go get some work done. Come see me whenever you’re ready.”

  “Work?” she said, grabbing his arm as he tried to pass. “Are you kidding? After… this?”

  “It’s always been the journey I enjoy,” Willem told her. “Why? Because there is no destination. I never plan on stopping until I crash.”

  “How does your mind work?” Suzanne said in stunned disbelief. “I just can’t comprehend it.”