Chapter One
Emesh, hidden by early spring scrub, stood beside a fat oak and groaned. He swallowed hard and looked down at himself. Shit. He knew it. He was visible. His eyes darted back and forth between his twin, Enten, who stood transfixed a few feet away and the hot, bare-chested man chopping wood across a twenty-foot clearing.
The god of summer released a shaky breath. Being embodied could only mean one thing. The extremely well-built male in his sights, wielding an ax with muscles that tensed and flexed in a stunning symphony of movement, would soon become the most important person in his life.
He couldn’t be more astounded. As the twelve gods in his band of deities looked for their Chosen… their female Chosen, Emesh figured his chances of finding his eternal mate were crap. Despite being thousands of years old, he’d never had a gay relationship, didn’t know where to look for one or even how to initiate a hook-up. He’d been delivered to Hell as punishment for simply lusting mentally. Now, seven yards away stood proof positive he would soon receive an education in every nuance of male love he’d ever imagined… and it scared him shitless.
****
It hadn’t taken Emesh and his brother―god of winter―long to find him, the man they believed to be Douglas Wingfeather, despite the fact Enten’s wife, Glory had cut into their search time. She’d frantically called every hour to see if they had located her sibling and through him, their mother who had gone missing from the god’s home in the Blue Hills. Emesh commiserated. Glory was correct to be unglued. The older woman, Kate, had an advanced case of Alzheimer’s.
Finding Douglas would be their best lead. Kate had been insisting for months that her son―whom Glory thought dead―in actuality lived in the western part of the state. A note Kate left indicated she’d headed there to search.
Emesh sent his eyes up and down the glorious male who’d made him visible and snorted. Maybe Kate wasn’t so far gone after all. He stared at the very solid and disturbing proof that the woman’s assertions had not been delusional.
Their search had begun two days earlier when a large group of gods, goddesses, witches, Lauernley, ―blue guys from the Rhine Valley―and humans spent the night lavishly celebrating the mating ceremony of the god, Kulla. All good until one witch, Angie, rushed in to pronounce Kate missing. By the time the ex-schoolteacher’s note came to light, dawn approached.
A review of the compound’s digital surveillance showed she astutely had turned off the perimeter barriers for a quick exit, seven hours earlier, and a thorough search of the woods surrounding the compound turned up no trace of the missing woman. They quickly concurred that Kate would make good on the promise in her note if she could keep her wandering mind on task. She would head to western Massachusetts to find Douglas.
Emesh and Enten volunteered to make the trip but before embarking had procured from a very pregnant and doctor-grounded Glory the last known whereabouts of Douglas, an institution for troubled youth where he’d lived for seven years before ‘dying’ just over a decade before.
They had taken off, invisible, for the facility immediately, with Enten mentally sharing Glory’s history with Emesh as they traveled.
Her family has always been acutely dysfunctional. Her father the worst kind of abuser, and her mother constantly beset by fear. Mother and children―Douglas and Glory―were severely at risk, but Douglas more so. By the time he hit his early teens, his mother knew he was gay, but Kate successfully hid it from her husband.
Emesh had done a mental gritting of his teeth before his brother continued.
During Douglas’ seventeenth year, he grew into a man’s height and breadth and no longer feared his father. Consequently, Douglas not only refused to hide his sexual preferences but flaunted it, thinking the old man could do nothing. He’d been completely wrong.
In the summer following Douglas’ high school graduation, his father used connections with town officials and had his son labeled an at-risk youth. Before anyone knew what happened, Douglas had been taken away and committed to an institution. Everyone acquainted with Kate assured her the “school,” Douglas’ new home, would be far superior to the old facility which had been shut down three years earlier due to “horrific, medieval, and barbaric practices,” but she didn’t buy it.
Glory, eight years old at the time, recalled secrets. Her mother would leave her teaching post in the middle of the day, dismiss Glory from school, and they would surreptitiously visit Douglas.
She still gets distraught bringing to mind that after a few months of incarceration, her brother was becoming a shell of the cheerful, confident boy she’d grown up with.
The school wasn’t what it appeared, and even though Glory didn’t quite get it, Kate quickly uncovered the evil that occurred there.
During their visits, Glory remembers lots of whispering and tears passing between mother and son. And even though too young to understand, she was old enough to know something was very wrong. Then one day, just after she turned fifteen, her family was informed by the school that her brother had died.
Glory’s father barely blinked at the news, but Kate’s health, always tenuous, subsequently plummeted. She remained in a heightened state of nervousness, disappearing from her job at odd times and becoming, if possible, more cowed and subservient to her overbearing, violent husband.
And Glory? Emesh questioned. He’d heard Enten’s internal growl.
You know the rest. Kate and Glory spent many years in a misery of existence and were stunned yet thrilled when one day the old man choked on a piece of meat and died. Peace at fucking last. Enten had laughed with no humor. The tyranny came to a fitting end.
With one last vestige of strength, Kate helped Glory win her freedom from her abusive husband, then shortly thereafter, spiraled down into Alzheimer’s disease.
Kate escaped to a prison of her own.
****
Enten finished the story by the time they reached the psychiatric hospital, and Emesh had become more determined than ever to make things right and bring Kate home.
Once inside the facility, Enten had materialized―an option open to him as a mated god―around the corner from the front desk nurse before approaching. He’d stepped up to the woman and inquired whether Kate had visited the facility. It had only taken light compelling skills to find out she’d been there the previous day, inquiring about someone named Dr. Jacobsen. That’s as good as it got. Apparently, the physician no longer worked there, and the nurse refused to give Kate any additional information on the doctor’s whereabouts. His mother-in-law had walked away. The pair of gods proved not so easy to deter.
Using invisibility to their advantage, he had rounded a corner as if to leave but instead, joined Emesh in a non-corporeal state. It hadn’t taken the pair long to ascertain that Douglas’ records were not on the office computers but were old enough be kept as paper files. They swiftly located and rifled the records room, finding the dossier on Douglas hidden away in the basement archives. His packet―thickly stuffed―had been mostly notes made by a Dr. Trask over the first six years of Douglas’ incarceration. The notations mentioned deviant behavior, a lack of remorse, and an unwillingness to embrace therapy for his “condition.”
Emesh had shivered. The year of incarceration was 1996, and he’d had no reason to doubt the media that gayness had been widely accepted by that time. So, who knew that in small-town America young men like Douglas were still being locked away for their sexual leanings?
The summer god noted the vast array of medications Glory’s brother had been given. Anti-psychotics, antidepressants, and mood stabilizers. If the dosages were any indication, they’d probably doped the young man out of his brain.
Douglas had also been subjected to electroconvulsive therapy, insulin shock therapy, and a deep sleep therapy where drugs had kept him unconscious for days at a time. His existence had to have been horrifying.
The notes dwindled to near nothing after Dr. Trask was replaced by a new physician. This man turned out to be the Dr. Jacobsen whose name the nurse had mentioned. He weaned his patient off all medication and seemed puzzled at Douglas’ continued stay. He routinely brought the case up before the board, hoping to integrate Douglas back into society, but got shot down, again and again. His frustration became evident during his one year on the case, and his brief notes stopped abruptly with the mention of Douglas’ demise. Cause of death was listed as a self-inflicted overdose of drugs in 2003.
Emesh and Enten subsequently went topside in the facility, looking for the doctor. When his name graced no door, Enten had turned visible again and cornered an older looking nurse, using his god-like compelling talents once more to ask additional questions.
“Do you remember a young man named Douglas Wingfeather?” Enten looked into the nurse’s eyes and loosened her tongue.
“Such a lovely young man,” she nodded. “Very sweet and quiet. Of course, that was due to his medication. Dr. Trask very thoroughly treated his patients.”
Ask about Dr. Jacobsen. Emesh grew impatient. Trask obviously had no bearing on Douglas’ present state. Enten gave him a look that clearly told Emesh to back down. The god of summer tapped a foot in frustration.
“And what happened to Dr. Trask?” Enten continued. “Why did he get taken off of Douglas’ case?”
A flush had come up the nurse’s neck under her stiff collar. She tried, unsuccessfully, to keep her mouth shut. “I’m not supposed to say… but Dr. Trask was accused of an… impropriety with a high-profile patient and forced to retire.”
“What kind of impropriety?” Enten had asked.
The nurse looked down, uncomfortably, and whispered, “One of a sexual nature, I do believe.” She hurried to cover her gossip. “But I’m sure it had to be a mistake. We loved him. Dr. Trask took his job very seriously.”
Enough with the pervert, growled Emesh. Ask about Jacobsen.
Enten had relented. “The doctor who took over Douglas’ case… Dr. Jacobsen. Can you tell me about him?”
“Certainly,” the nurse answered. “Also, a very nice man, but he seemed less knowledgeable.”
“In what way,” Enten led.
“He acted confused about why some patients were here,” she admitted. “In particular, the patient you asked about, Douglas. Dr. Jacobsen was sure the young man didn’t belong in the hospital but look how wrong that turned out to be. After taking Douglas off his medications, the young man became so distraught, he stole drugs and killed himself.” She lowered her voice again. “That diagnosis got Dr. Jacobsen an early retirement.”
Before Emesh coached again, Enten came up with the question of the hour.
“Where is Dr. Jacobsen now?”
He had received a blank look. “At his home… wherever that is,” the nurse supplied, shrugging.
We need the personnel department, Emesh told his brother. Find out where that is, and we’ll know where to locate Jacobsen.
The summer god had experienced a flash of cold, which meant annoyance from his brother. Fine. He’d butt out.
“Where do we find your personnel records?” Enten finally questioned, throwing a quelling look at Emesh.
“It’s on Main Street,” the nurse supplied, “in downtown Amherst.” She gave the address.
Enten spent all of thirty seconds wiping the entire visit from the nurse’s mind before they misted out and headed to their next destination.
It hadn’t taken any time at all in Amherst to compel the lovely personnel director into bringing Dr. Jacobsen’s private file up on her computer. His last known address had been Leverett, Massachusetts. The gods wiped traces of themselves from her recollection and disappeared to find the doctor.
They’d located him easily enough.
Dr. Jacobsen lived in a small, well-maintained, antique cape on the main road out of Amherst in the small town of Leverett. He had a shingle out front, advertising his psychotherapy services, and by the looks of the worn-to-ruts parking lot, his talents were well-loved.
Emesh impatiently waited in the doctor’s bright, but shabby reception room, having ascertained the physician was meeting with a client. His brother became visible and sat, perched on a battered wooden chair, absently thumbing through a seed catalog several years out of date. When Jacobsen finally emerged, shaking the hand of a petite woman who wore too many layers for the warm spring day, he’d glanced at Enten, speculatively. Apparently, the doctor didn’t have many strangers walking through his doors.
“Can I help you?”
Enten waited until the outside door snicked closed behind the overdressed patient.
“Dr. Jacobsen.” Enten stuck out a hand and with Emesh’s help, kept the worst of his winter coldness at bay. “My name is Enten, and I’m here to ask a few questions about Douglas Wingfeather.”
Emesh had never seen a man’s face close up faster. The doctor, a sixty-something gray haired individual of medium height who had just been smiling curiously, instantly became rigid, his mouth turning into a distrustful frown. He eyed Enten up and down.
“And who might you be?”
Are you going to compel him or play it straight, brother? Emesh cringed at his own, inadvertent choice of words.
Depends if he’s forthcoming or not, Enten replied, before speaking out loud. “I’m Glory Wingfeather’s husband.”
“Huh. Not the husband I’m aware of,” the doctor had retorted skeptically, raising his bushy gray eyebrows.
Enten smiled, trying to appear open. “That one’s long gone,” he assured the physician. “And she’s the reason I’m here… well, indirectly.” Enten carefully perused Jacobsen and informed Emesh he’d decided to trust the doctor. “Her mother, Kate, who has advanced Alzheimer’s, lives with us in Quincy. Yesterday she took off, leaving a note saying she needed to find her son, Douglas.”
The gods waited for a reaction from the doctor, but he played it very cool.
“Alzheimer’s,” he restated, almost to himself. “I wondered why she lost touch, why she couldn’t find me when I left the hospital.” Then, as if remembering he had company, he changed his tone, becoming brusque. “Her son has been dead for eleven years,” Jacobsen assured them.
But something in his eyes had the gods doubting his answer.
“Then why would Kate be so certain he’s still alive?” Enten’s chill peeked out.
Lighten up, brother. You’ll give the man pneumonia. If he won’t tell us what we need, just give him a whammy.
“You know how the Alzheimer’s brain works,” Jacobsen shrugged. “Many patients live entirely in the past, and if that’s the case with Kate, she’s remembering a time when Douglas lived.”
“We think it’s more than that.” Enten’s lip curled. Emesh could see his brother winding up for a good “compelling.” He let it fly. “What happened to Douglas eleven years ago?”
The doctor had turned away abruptly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You know what happened,” he answered. “Douglas Wingfeather died of a drug overdose.”
Emesh sighed. This one’s too smart to go under easily. The gods had found their potential mates, along with a few unique humans who held high ethical standards were not susceptible to compelling. The doctor was obviously one of the latter.
“Listen,” Enten had bored harder into the doctor’s head. “We’re sure Kate will turn up here, eventually. I’m going to ask you to hold her when she arrives and call Glory at this number.” The god turned to a small reception desk and jotted his wife’s cell on a piece of paper, but in the meantime… Enten would not be denied. He sent a hand toward the doctor’s shoulder and turned him around.
“We know you helped Douglas leave the institution,” he said, icily smooth. “We need an address.”
Emesh observed the doctor’s internal struggle and noted the minute he lost the battle. Jacobsen didn’t want to, but his mouth spilled out the information.
The huge reveal hit Emesh, hard. Dammit if Kate hadn’t been right. Douglas lived.
Enten had subsequently been eager to be on his way, but Emesh stopped him with a few quiet words.
Let the man know you’re not a serial killer, will you? He’s protected Kate’s secret for a long time. He deserves some peace of mind.
His brother had undergone a light thaw and sighed.
“You don’t have to worry,” the god assured the doctor, turning to the door. “Kate and Glory are in a safe place. I love my wife.” Thinking of Glory melted Enten even more, and he sent a blinding grin over his shoulder that could almost melt snow. “She’s six months pregnant with twins and anxious for them to know their uncle.”
The doctor returned the smile, albeit tentatively. If he regretted giving things away, he didn’t let on.
“If Kate shows up, I’ll keep her here and call Glory,” he confirmed, then added. “And take it easy with Douglas. He’s a little skittish.”
Enten and Emesh had walked out the door, then disappeared.
****
Emesh couldn’t take his eyes off the man who could only be Douglas. He physically reached out to his brother for the first time in centuries. Enten, do you feel…
I see, brother. You have your body.
Emesh heard his twin’s head-voice choke up, followed by a strangled laugh.
And here you believed you’d never find your eternal mate, his brother attempted to tease. I sure hope you like him.
Emesh detected worry in his brother’s words.
What’s not to like? He tried to make his tone light. Look at those shoulders… that ass…
Emesh broke off when his brother groaned.
Okay. Right. I won’t go there with you. Emesh pondered their next move. So, what…
Douglas spun with the agility and speed of a god and launched his ax across the vast clearing. It entered the thick oak, inches from Emesh’s head, with a solid thunk.
“Come out from behind those bushes,” commanded a strong, take-no-prisoners voice, “and make it slow,” he rasped. “I have another ax.”