Weeping Willow: The Gemini Twins, page 1
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Copyright © 2023 Miss Renae & Lady Scarlett.
Cover Art © 2023 Miss Renae.
Created by Miss Renae.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
A paranormal menage MFM Romance. Meaning the main character does not have to choose between her two love interests. Keep in mind this book contains trigger warnings.
Reader’s discretion advised: including but not limited to off-screen rape, enemies to lovers, brief other woman drama, insta-love, toucher and you die vibes, and more. If any of the above-mentioned triggers you, please skip this book. Mental health is very important.
Let’s not yuck anyone else’s yum. We hope you enjoy Willow and her guys as much as we do.
PS Danny is our favorite.
We dedicate our first co-write to Rory Miles. Your stories brought us together and because of you, we created a lifelong friendship. We will always be grateful. You inspired us to become published authors. Together we wrote this duet and that wouldn’t have been possible without you.
We adore you,
Miss Renae & Lady Scarlett
Every girl thinks about what the night before her wedding will be like. This isn’t exactly how I would have envisioned my last night single. It’s a typical Friday night. I’m sitting on my little worn-out, navy blue couch that I’ve had for at least three years. It’s worn just enough to sink in without the springs being uncomfortable.
Oh, and I need to mention the deceased seventy-eight-year-old woman sitting across from me frowning while I tell her she needs to cross over. When most of them find me, it’s because they have been wandering around and I’m the first person to see them. They rarely know they are dead. Everything is just foggy for them.
That’s where I come in, your friendly neighborhood medium.
Since I was ten, I’ve seen the spirits of those who haven’t crossed over yet. They walk in a similar plane of our world-stuck and confused. Nobody can see except a seer, medium, powerful witch, or warlock. Even then, it’s a rare gift and many people don’t have my ability. Therefore, I’ve never been able to talk about the things I see. I don’t just see the regular form of the person they were; I see what happened to them.
It looked like the woman across from me was sick. She’s wearing nothing but a hospital gown. Her skin is unnaturally pale and I can see every bone in her body. She’s dead, of course, so she is pale, but the poor woman looks sickly too. She isn’t even the worst. I would have to give that to the little boy who drowned in his family’s pool. He was playing too close to the edge, and his parents argued. He was upset they were arguing and went to play with his ball. It landed in the pool, and instead of asking for help; he tried to grab it himself. He fell in, and his shirt got caught on the pool steps. His parents didn’t even know it happened until it was too late.
They’re lost when these souls find me, but talking to them clears everything up. They remember their lives and what happened to them. Reaching my hand, I grab the woman’s, making it glow at our touch. As soon as we make contact, her life flashes through our minds. Eventually, so does her death. As it ends, I see tears streaming down her face through her closed eyes. It’s always emotionally draining helping them cross over. But under all the pain and sadness in my chest, it feels nice to help these people most can’t.
Like Uncle Ben told Peter Parker in Spiderman, “With great power comes great responsibility.” What better way to use that power than to help people?
Iris, the dead woman sitting on my couch, starts glowing a bright golden color. As she opens her eyes, her features soften, and she gives me a warm smile. She didn’t need words; I know she can cross over now. A few tears of my fall as I think back to the sad faces looking down on her in the hospital room for her last moments. Her sons, Troy and Jacob, were there to comfort her. Their wives brought the grandbabies in to see her one last time, but they were too little to understand what was happening. They still hugged her and said, “I love you,” as your parents always tell you to tell your grandma. The glow is shining more brightly around her, illuminating her pale color. She starts slowly fading, her glow taking her to the next phase of her journey.
Finally, Iris crosses over, leaving a warm feeling in my chest. I sighed in relief while leaning back on the couch and laying my head back. She was one of the easier ones, honestly. Some of them can be complete nightmares.
The dark ones are what I call them. Darkness surrounds them, and they give off some dangerous vibes. When a dark one touches me, the shadow tentacles burn like fire and shock me like electricity. I don’t know what these monsters are, but there is no helping them. I’m not always able to get away. When a dark one finds me, if it touches me, I will eventually pass out from the pain. When I woke up, they were gone, and I was in pain for a week or longer.
I get up off the couch and stretch my arms above my head, reaching to my tip toes for that good stretch. A chill rolls over me, giving me goosebumps while making the hair on my arms stand up. I look at the double windows by the bed, which are both closed. The overhead light flickers and my breath leaves my lips.
“Well damn, think of a devil and they shall appear,” I say under my frigid breath.
Knowing that monsters like to lurk from every corner, I look closer at every shadow, my body tense and rigid, preparing for a fight. If one was to touch me…I shiver, refusing to let that happen.
The overhead light keeps flickering, and the sound of a low growl comes from above. I look up into a pool of slithering shadows with the deformed head of a dark one coming through it, bearing pointed teeth at me. One long bony arm reaches out and swipes at me with extended nails, knocking me back into the couch cushions. Pushing my legs onto the floor to flip the couch over, I return just in time for the dark one to fall from the ceiling. It stands, turning its lifeless, dull gray eyes on me, screeching louder than nails on a chalkboard.
Still crouching, I look over to my bedside table and leap the five-foot distance as it aimed another swipe at me. I crash into the side of my little bed with a thump while reaching inside my little table. Keeping my eyes on the beast, I’m rummaging around for a potion I’ve been working on. If all goes well tonight, I’ll hit it with this and it will stun the damn thing. The smell of the ingredients will fill the room, making it leave.
The creature barrels toward me again, and just for good measure, I jump out of the way again. The Dark one crashes into my bed, smashing it but giving us enough distance apart.
“Get the hell out of my room, you ugly bastard,” I yell, throwing the small purple bottle at the creature’s massive head.
The glass shatters, liquid spilling over its body. The creature screeches so loudly I cover my ears in pain. I can smell the scent of the potion filling the room. A mixture of sage, lavender, and a few other ingredients I concocted from Grannie’s apothecary downstairs.
The creature starts folding in on itself and crawls up the wall, leaving a slick black trail of something that looks like oil behind it. I watch from a distance to see what will happen. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would get this far, but here we are. The black hole it fell from is still there. Slithering across the ceiling, the creature slips back into its hole. As the last traces of the murky, shifting shadows vanish within, the hole gradually contracts until it disappears entirely.
I stare in shock. Part of me expects the dark one to return, but another part hopes I finally did it.
“Did I do it?”
I inch cautiously to that spot but see nothing. Giddiness bubbles up inside me, and I can’t help but let out a manic laugh. I finally did it!
“I finally fucking stopped one!”
My moment of celebration was short-lived when I realized the shape of my room. The pictures on the wall behind the couch are now on the floor, likely shattered, and the couch is still flipped on it’s back. My small bed and side table were thrown into the wall, causing one leg to come off. I may be able to fix it, but I’ll worry about that later.
With what little I know about casting spells and chanting, your breathing has to be slow and steady. Otherwise, you end up with an incomplete spell or, worse, a backfire. Closing my eyes and breathing in through my nose but out my mouth, I can feel the power starting in my core. Its burning sensation spreads through my body, but I can only let out a little. I have to keep it under control. Otherwise, something horrible could happen.
I think about a slight breeze blowing through the room and focus on the light feeling of air to channel the spell. With one more breath in and releasing it, I swipe my right hand toward the couch. I feel my hair lift slightly, letting me know the spell is working without me opening my eyes. Flicking my wrist again, I will the wind to flip the couch back over. I am envisioning the movement in my head.
I hear the creaking of the wood and the curtains flapping over the window. The couch isn’t lifting, so I haven’t let out enough power yet. I let a bit more seep out, feeling sweat pool over my forehead. Eyes still closed, I strain a little more, releasing more power to lift the couch into place. The wood is creaking. I can hear the springs buckling under the weight of the power, but it still. WON’T. MOVE!
Suddenly, the couch flips over again but spins into the back wall with a thud—the wood breaks, releasing cotton and springs everywhere from the pressure. I use my arms to shield my face from flying teddy bear guts.
“Dammit!” stomping my feet. “That was my favorite place to read.”
“I’ll have to clean this place by hand, I guess.”
Stepping over pieces of broken wood, metal springs, and cotton from the cushions, I barely missed a glass shard from the picture frames that were hanging up. Finally reaching the bedroom door-luckily without sticking my feet with something sharp, I open the door to the hallway but come face to face with my twin.
Now, my sister is the complete opposite of me. So when I tell you how confused I was, it isn’t even the best words to use. Eyla has always been so put together; now she looks like a drowned rat. I raise my eyebrow in a smirk since I know she went to her favorite place. My sister loves being in a crowd and usually ends up the belle of the ball, especially with the guys. Whatever guy got in her pants tonight may have been her match.
“What happened to you?” we say in unison. We are twins, so we tend to do that.
She pushes past me, walks into my room like she owns the place, and looks around me with a slight smirk.
“Redecorating? I love what you’ve done with the place, sis.” she teases.
I look her over again and give her my little smirk before saying, “What happened, little sis? Some guy give you more than you could handle tonight?”
“Don’t even get me started on my night. I got all dirty and didn’t even get to the fun part!” she pouts.
I can’t help the smile that slips on my lips. There is something about seeing her stomp her foot and pout because she couldn’t get laid that makes my night a little better.
Since we were sixteen, we’ve known we would be married off to merge other covens with ours. Eyla didn’t take the news so well. She did everything she could to defy our mother. That’s when the blue hair and trips to the Cauldron, her favorite bar, started. I went with her a few times. The bartender was always nice and looked out for us, but never stopped the party.
“Well, if you’re going to barge in here like this is your place….” I huff, handing her the trash bin. “Help me clean up so I’m not doing this all night.”
“Wait. Willow, that’s not why I came home. Although I could use a shower.” She grumbles, trying to smooth down her frizzed-out blue locks.
She used to have jet-black hair like me but to get back at Mom, she bleached it and dyed it a beautiful teal blue color. It does look nice with her bright green eyes and light pink lips. It gives her a unique look, which she wants.
Exhaustion is getting the better of me. I can’t help the slight irritation that slips when I ask, “Why are you home, anyways?”
The irritation quickly leaves when I realize she’s leaning from one foot to the other, looking anywhere else but at me. That’s one of Eyla’s tells, and I immediately know something is wrong.
“I saw…” she mumbles, just barely loud enough for me to hear. Huh? Saw what?
“Ok, and?” More frustration laces my words.
She’s had visions before, so I don’t understand why she’s acting like this. I see her take a deep breath like she doesn’t want to tell me something.
Quickly and in one breath, she blurts out, “When merging powers of destiny and fate, you’d better hurry before it’s too late. One twin will flourish after the other’s demise. One will suffer through the coven’s lies. Before their fates end, through the bond, they may mend. The curse of the Gemini fates. Must rely on their mates.”
She looks up at me, expecting me to say something, but I have nothing. Every bit of what she said is running through my head like a bullet train. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I stand like a freaking fish out of the water, trying to put words in my mouth. She’s never had one of us, let alone both of us. What is this about one dying? Will one of us die? Wait…
“MATES?” It is the first thing to make it out.
“Wow, girl, I knew you were deprived, but I didn’t think that’s what would stick first.” Eyla laughs, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.
“Mates…” she lets out a childish giggle. “Out of everything I’ve said, that’s what you’re going to focus on?” she throws her head back and lets out a loud, obnoxious laugh.
“Fine, what are we supposed to do? Leave? It’s not like we aren’t supposed to be getting married tomorrow or anything.” I let out being sarcastic. I’m completely clueless about how to fix this. What the hell am I going to do?
“Yeah, that’s not happening. We need to leave. Like tonight,” she says as the laughter from a moment ago disappears completely.
It all hits me at once. We need a plan. The wheels are turning, and an idea forms for getting us out of here. We need tickets–train tickets, and two burner phones. Feeling more confident, my chest loosens and I make my way across the bedroom, still careful not to slice my feet on the broken shards of my favorite lamp. I need to grab some shoes.
Since we never get to go anywhere, my suitcases are at the back of my closet. Lucky for me. Pulling it out and throwing it onto my now broken bed, I try to ignore the mess we won’t be cleaning. Mom is going to be pissed. I groan internally, just thinking about the argument coming. Eyla won’t be any help. She jumps at the chance to piss Mom off every turn she gets. She thrives off it. I understand why they don’t get along. I wish I weren’t always stuck in the middle of them.
Running over a mental checklist of everything we’ll need to do and get, I see Eyla grinning like a Cheshire cat. No doubt, she’s thinking of the trouble we’ll be in for the room and running away the night before our weddings. The havoc she can cause because of it must be bubbling up inside her with excitement. Irritation spikes again at how casually she’s taking this. I snap my fingers to get her attention.
“Are you ok right now? We do not need you zoning out here.”
Looking down, she mumbles, “Yea. I’ll just go get my stuff.” Before rushing out of the room.
Instant regret fills my heart at my attitude problems tonight. I wish she would take things more seriously sometimes. I don’t mean to hurt her feelings, but the world hangs heavy on my shoulders. Just for once, I wish things could be easier, and I wasn’t figuring this out alone.
“Sit down here while I go grab the tickets.” I thrust the handle of my rolling suitcase toward her while grabbing my wallet. I head over to the board, listing all the trips, and try to decide which would be best for us.
They did not teach me about the dead people I see, but I’ve learned a few things. Magic 101 was one of them. Every witch and warlock has a unique magical signature. They are identifiable by a colored ribbon. There are only a few who can see them and even fewer who can master them. You can use something very personal from the one you’re tracking, and it’s like a ribbon directing you to where that person is. All you have to do is follow it. So with us being twins, we have the same signature, and when we’re together, our magical signature is much stronger. However, when there is a sizable group of people, the ribbon gets tangled and blends with other signatures, making it much harder to identify. That’s how we will get away today. By being surrounded by so many other people, we get lost in a sea of ribbons.
Among those who can track magical signatures is our Uncle Keiran, who also happens to be a master. Not only is our uncle a very strong tracker with his abilities, but he’s also one of the highest elders in the coven. With our uncle in the mix, we have to separate. It’s our only chance to stay hidden. He will use his abilities to track us once he finds out we aren’t there for the wedding. I can’t let that happen. Feeling determination bubble inside me, my drive to get us out of here grows stronger. I see a slot for a train leaving in thirty minutes, headed south. Eyla loves the beach. I’ll send her there so she can at least enjoy something about this.
