LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Polyamorous, Shapeshifters
Date Published: October 31, 2025
Joel’s twin has been hurt, and Joel decides to stay with him rather than
join his new lovers across the sea. But fate, and a serial killer, have other
plans.
Parisa and Noah are drifting apart and without Joel they might lose everything
they’ve built.
Can this new throuple fight together to win their happiness or will evil
triumph?
“Hooo-elll…”
It was Parisa’s voice, but he couldn’t touch her physically or
telepathically. All Joel’s senses were blurred.
Joel wasn’t sure if he’d passed out, but everything was foggy. Not
dark, since he had no concept of light beyond the meaning of the word, but
misty. It was like the fog that clung to his face and arms, to his hearing and
sense of smell when he’d visited England thirty years ago. He’d
never forget that sensation of everything being muffled. The sound of his own
voice had been right, but the tapping of his cane tip on the cobblestones in
London had been oddly removed from the rest of him. He’d actually fallen
a couple of times in London, not because he couldn’t feel the ground but
because he had tried too hard to rely on the sound of his cane to tell him the
depth of things like cracks and steps.
Now, although the sense of being wrapped in cotton persisted, he felt even
more cut off from the world because he was really two people. He
couldn’t attend to his own movements or speech while living in
Jules’s head. Especially not when Jules was so distant from the world.
His whole spirit seemed caught up in confusion and fear. So although Joel and
Jules sometimes lived in each other’s heads for brief moments, there had
never been such a fundamental separation from physical reality.
Dimly, he could feel a hand caressing his face. He tried to reach up and catch
those fingers, but his arms felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. He
attempted another connection with Jules, one that would allow him to
communicate more than just his confusion and to feel Jules’s sense of
dislocation. That, too, failed.
Someone spoke then, their voice cutting through the fog. “Joel.”
It was James, the dragon guarding him. “Joel, come back. Follow me if
you’re turned around.”
He clung to those words and finally managed, by trailing after them in the
psychic world, to reestablish himself in the realm of touch, hearing, and
scent.
The person caressing his face paused and Parisa asked, “Can you hear me,
Joel?”
“Yes,” he croaked, his throat dry.
“Drink,” she answered, and he opened his mouth, unsure if he would
feel a glass against his lips or her cupped hand. He registered the water as
cool and drank as palmfuls were brought to his lips. From where he’d
heard Parisa’s voice, he’d expected the water to come from another
angle. Maybe Noah was actually giving him the refreshing liquid.
“James?” he asked between mouthfuls.
“He’s not here,” Parisa said, “although I heard him
too. It was like he somehow tapped into a telepathy that could be carried to
more than one person.”
“Are either of you hurt?” Joel asked.
“No,” Parisa answered after a moment. He wondered what caused the
hesitation. Then she explained. “Noah is shell-shocked, I think.
He’s –”
“I’m fine,” Noah said firmly. “Just… sorry
about…”
Struggling to raise his head, Joel felt hands tighten on his shoulders. He
fought down the instantaneous panic that clawed at his throat. “Unless
there’s a reason for me to be lying on my back,” he said as gently
as he could manage, “I’d rather sit up.”
The hands released him and as he sat up, crossing his legs, he felt
Parisa’s breath on his shoulder blade. He was still naked. He shivered
and instinctively pulled his legs up to shield his stomach and softer bits. He
wasn’t afraid of Parisa or Noah, but he felt vulnerable. “What
happened?”
“There was an explosion,” Noah said, and he did sound a little
shocky because his voice trembled. “Over at the other house, we
think.”
“Definitely not here,” Parisa put in. “Do either of you need
a towel? There aren’t robes in here, and I don’t think we should
leave the bathroom until we get the all-clear.”
So, that was why his bare butt was on tile. “Did you two carry me in
here?”
Again, there was that momentary pause. Then Parisa said, “I helped Noah
and carried you, yes.”
Their location made sense even if nothing else did. As far as Joel knew, the
bathroom might be the only room in the smaller house without windows.
Not like the one that had blown inward, injuring Jules.
He shivered as that realization, sent by his twin, hit him. Jules didn’t
actually know it had been a window, but he’d had glass taken out of his
arm so he’d made an educated guess. Joel said, “Soon as we can, I
need to get to Jules. Something’s seriously wrong with him.”
“Can you feel him?” Parisa asked, her hand warm on his back.
“Not now but…” He shivered again, unable to help himself.
“He was muffled, or that’s what it felt like. Like having your
head wrapped in a blanket.”
Noah began, “Did he –”
Someone interrupted, throwing open the door. “Here they are,” said
James, his voice tight.
“Good,” said a voice that came out slightly tinny. “Help is
on the way but it’s a good hour out. See if you can move them to this
building.”
“Will do.” James crouched, his voice coming from off to
Joel’s right. “Are any of you hurt?”
Joel shook his head. “I’m fine. It didn’t happen
here.” He reached out toward James’s voice, but Parisa caught his
hand.
“Agent Tavery,” she said softly, “you’re
bleeding.”
About the Author
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
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