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After Edward, there was no peace for the kindred. Arthur Bennett had laid low, picking up the pieces of the life that burnt away with Vanya. But Shilo had felt.. different. Wearing the face of his brother that he had not known existed even two months ago, thousands of miles from home. Oh, Gods, home. The palace walls that had once felt like a prison now felt like safety, like the world now was much too large, especially in his mother's absence. There had been no time to grieve, instinct to survive taking over after only a single night; but now there were all the nights he could spare in an immortal lifespan. The wolves had not been alone in their howls to the moon for a while, the boy’s cries hollowed as air forced its way into lungs that had not accepted it willingly for as long as he could remember. It is on those nights that he wished for a reflection, to stare into the eyes that are not his own and scream and curse and sob.
Emizel had been different, clawing through the streets to find vengeance against nothing in particular, and even that slipped through his fingers. Finding Viv and Vex the same as they had been, showing weakness for the first time he could truly remember.
“Please, I’m not him. I don’t want to make things worse for Shilo, not worse than they already are, I’m not Emizel anymore, really. Just put me back, please.” The words had tumbled with a shakiness that he did not recognise, and he had felt the cold press of tile under his body as exhaustion caught up to him, expecting to see the expansive ocean of blood as Viv stared down on him.
Yet, the blood never came, and he had felt.. rested.
“Without your original parts there was only so much I could do, but welcome back, Emizel.” She had said, facade of villainy cracked with empathy, “Now, I’d go before my brother gets back and realises I helped our arch nemesis.”
Leather boots weighed down his feet, shrouds of Demons attire wrapped around him like a safety blanket - one that he did not want to think about how Viv got - But he stood, and he ran. Ran through the halls he had stalked before, he only thought of Theo. The boy that had watched him become what he was not, first a vampire, then his brother. He had done this for Shilo, really, not to drag his face through the muck more than he has already; but even then, what could he really do?
-
Evelyn Bathory had slept.
When fire and smoke had run rife through the castle, she had been calm, she had orchestrated it, after all. What, you thought that the queen would be so foolish to be caught in a Grimmslayer raid? No, the raid wasn’t even Grimmslayers, they were vampires paid extra to keep quiet and risk their own lives. In reality, she’d known Edward’s plans for years, first LA, then all the vampires in the world, but it was always going to be a test, how quickly would he scramble for purchase on fallen territory? She had not expected her sons to get involved.
Then, she’d known that Shilo was growing restless, catching him out of his room more nights than not; but this was a step she could never have imagined. The irony of it all? He’d have been king. His birthday would have come and he would have begun to train for it, when she would have abdicated in a decade or two, but he had been restless. She could not blame him for that, there is only so much four walls can entertain until there is nothing left to stare at. Perhaps she should’ve predicted it, let him wander for a while, welcomed him into her arms when he wanted to be there.
What she could never have predicted was Emizel. The boy who threw the ritual out of sync, the boy who should always have been mortal. There should never have been two vampires, hell, there shouldn’t have been one. Two human sons, that should have been it, they would live and die, perhaps they would be turned when they were old enough, but it should never have been this way.
-
“Shilo.. Shilo! It’s Emizel!” He had yelled through the door of an abandoned life, the paint peeled and coloured in graffiti, a castle for one who had seen nothing but his own misery.
“Go away. Please.”
It’s funny, even in his own voice, Emizel would have recognised Shilo’s cadence anywhere; the same way his vowels were sharper, words more poised. But now it thrummed with brokenness that could not have been a prince’s practiced speech.
“I’m going to come in, now.” He said, kept his voice low and quiet enough not to startle him, pushed the door with no resistance.
If he had been in his own body, maybe Emizel would have seen the similarities to who he was, but in the mirror image of himself, the differences shone like night and day. The clothes that he used to fill out well hung from his frame in wefts, skin paper-white and just as thin. He had been sitting in an empty room, eyes clouded and focussed on nothing in particular, swaying just slightly.
Two brothers sat facing each other, two sides of a coin, yet only one had tarnished; the rust that never should have developed spread upon him as a plague.
“Where’s Arthur?” Emizel whispered across the space, watched his brother freeze like a deer in headlights.
“I don’t know, somewhere?” Shilo had responded, refusing to meet the gaze set upon him.
“Or Grefgor? Have you been alone here?”
“With Hazel, I think. You’re the first in a while.”
As much as he enjoyed Grefgor’s company, Emizel wanted nothing more than to put a stake through him. Yet, the irony was not lost on him, he had left too. But hadn’t he warned them? That his brother would not be able to be alone? Surely Arthur was intelligent enough to deduce that.
In his own mind, Shilo heard nothing but the beast's feral cries for nourishment, but felt only his own body lurch at the thought of the violence necessary. He had watched Arthur leave, muttering about progress and justice, and hadn't the strength to ask where he was going, if he could follow. He had only the strength to mourn and to eat when there was blood in front of him, but Grefgor had followed Hazel wherever she wanted to go, promising to return shortly; and the door had not opened again until Emizel.
He had been alone once more, his brother vanished through the door, and returned to his blankness, accompanied by the howling of the Beast, and the hole in his chest.
-
Fuck me, he’s been starving? Emizel left Pepper to watch over his brother in the wrecked home, closing the door slowly. Now, what to do? Fresh is best, he knew that for certain, but Shilo would never drink it. And where the fuck is Arthur? What could've been so important that he abandoned him? He pushed that aside, for now. What is important is finding enough blood to drag Shilo back from the brink he teetered on.
Sidewalk cracked beneath his sprint down them, moonlight highlighting empty alley after empty alley. Why tonight, of all nights, did LA have to be quiet? Panic rose in his throat. He couldn't bust into a bar and drain someone there, alcohol would do him no good. The streets were more barren than he could ever remember, for a Friday, there should be no room to breathe, let alone run. The Dangs would not help, surely. They knew what Shilo was, watched him rip one of their own apart, and he’d been gone so long they were hesitant to trust him anymore.
-
The walls had started to dance, shadows creeping in ways the moonlight should not cast them. And all Shilo did was watch, observe through hollow vision how things would move. Then came the whispers, at first the subtle temptations of the beast, to kill and to feed, to become the monster that hid inside. He wondered if he already was. His hands still feeling sticky with the flesh of the gang member he’d never learn the name of, mind still ringing of Ben. Is this what a monster truly is? A thing that commits atrocities and never learns to atone?
Perhaps he’d never be whole again, perhaps he never was. Whether that piece of him died in his mother’s womb or with the flame he couldn’t be sure, yet he felt that fleeting urge to chase it until he could no longer stand, even though he couldn’t stand now if he wanted to.
He did not notice Pepper’s golden eyes peering at him, she did not notice anything was wrong. She couldn’t have. When the torture extends only from his mind there is nothing to see. But he could see. And he saw the creatures of the night howling to the moon, felt their cries in the wind through the floor, felt himself flinch at a hand on his shoulder.
He expected Emizel. Maybe he hadn’t heard the door open. His shallow eyes met the face of his mother instead.
“Mama..? You’re here.. But no.. You’re supposed to be dead..” He heard himself whisper, though Pepper heard no such mutterings.
“I am, darling.” She said, other hand cupping his face. “It’s time to go home, Shilo.”
“I’d like that.”
It is only then that Pepper noticed anything, when Shilo’s frame relaxed from the hunch it had been in, falling to his side on the ground; face twisted into a smile he had truly meant.
Pepper had not known Shilo long, but had known Vampires long enough to know the difference between Torpor and death. There's a certain total stillness that overtakes them when their soul can take no more, coldness that extends more than just from a lack of a beating heart. How would she ever tell the queen? Though, it turned out that she would never have to, for she already knew.
From where she was, there was nothing she could have done, but she felt the sinking in her chest nonetheless, sadness that crawled up her throat and settled in her eyes, he had died believing she would be waiting for him. Maybe that had given him some hope, wherever he was now.
-
“Shilo! I found food!” Emizel said, pushing through the doorway, only to see the blood leaking from his lips, the empty eyes. Grungy floors dyed crimson as bottles of blood gathered from an off-guard bouncer hit the ground. A carbon copy of himself lay starved on rotten floorboards, grey fur gathered at his side. Streaks of scarlet dripped down his own face as he sat next to his body, and dialed Arthur.
In Magnus’ living room, photos and files spread across the coffee table, he jumped at the sound of the ringtone. But Emizel hadn’t called in weeks, maybe he knew something.
“Emizel? What is it?” He said, agitated at being pulled from his thoughts.
“Where the fuck are you?” the boy hissed, rage dripping through the phone.
“Why do you need to know?”
“Because he’s dead, Arthur. He’s fucking dead.”
“Who’s dead, Emizel? We’re vampires, we’re all dead.”
“Shilo! I went over, and he was starving! I came back with blood and he had no life in him, just dead on the fucking floor.” He spat. “So you’re coming back, now. Or I'll find you and drag you back myself.” Click!
Arthur moved as a ghost through LA. Pushing drunks to the ground who would not move, mind racing all the while. Grefgor left? How did this happen, especially to him? This is my fault.
My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault.
Shilo is dead and it’s My Fault.
-
The second call he made was to Viv Weylin.
“Hello?”
“Viv, You need to help me.”
“Emizel?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “What do you want?”
“Shilo.. He’s gone, I need him to have his face back, he can’t stay like this.”
“You owe me for this, okay? My brother would have my head if he knew. But I’ll be there. What’s the address?” She said with a sigh, writing the information on her hand.
“Viv? Who’re you talking to in there!” Vex yelled through their shared wall.
“No one important! Just some guy looking to get some ghouls made, I’m meeting with him to discuss the.. Logistics.”
Viv Weylin betrayed her brother quietly. Slipped through the warehouse doors and down the street, because sometimes grief is a stronger force than family.
-
Crash!
Arthur flung the thin door open with no regard for sound, eyes landing on two identical boys - Neither’s chest rose with breath, but only one cried; a broken wailing thing on the ground, pale claws grasping at an unmoving hand.
“What happened, Emizel?” Arthur muttered, crouched at the pair’s side.
“What happened? What happened, Arthur?” he laughed, then. Crackling air whistling in bursts. “What happened was that you left him. Grefgor followed you, I’ve got no way to find him. Maybe that's a good thing, Bennett. Because you’re lucky I don't have the energy to kill you where you stand. Both of you left him grieving our mother. You knew he couldn’t feed himself, even if he wanted to. He starved, Arthur. I just hope you’re happy, because whatever you were doing was so important that you didn’t take him with you.” Emizel spat, never once looking up from his brother’s face, staring blankly at the ceiling tiles.
“Need I remind you, Emizel, you were the first to leave?”
“That’s not fair, Arthur-”
“No. You said yours, let me say mine. You were the first to leave us on that island. I could not help him forever-”
“His mother died! She died and he had to keep going!”
“So did I, Emizel! So did I. We all do. It is what we have to do. We have to move on, keep walking. Because if we let ourselves fall, we let ourselves die, as he did. I left because my friend needed me.” Arthur lashed, pausing to think. “I didn’t think Grefgor would leave his side, especially in that state.”
In reality, Grefgor had not tried to leave. In reality, he lays in the bottom of a river, stake through the heart, put there by Edward Twilight. That is when food had stopped reaching Shilo Bathory, supply dying with his confidant.
“It doesn’t matter, Arthur! You didn’t come back for him. Never once did you see if he was okay. I couldn’t, I tried. But it feels like the whole fucking world tried to keep me from him until it was too late.”
My fault. My fault. My fault.
“You’re right.” He said, chuckling at the absurdity. “You’re right, Emizel. Are you happy? You’re right. I did leave. Maybe that makes me selfish, but do not think you are any better than me for it. You are reckless, violent, and perhaps more selfish than I.”
“Isn’t that what we all are? Monsters.”
“Not him.” A third voice said. Both heads snapped to stare, meeting the gaze of the disgraced Weylin, (well, if Vex knew where she truly was, she would be.) Hood pulled over her porcelain face, hair let down from its clips. She moved through shadow, sitting across from Emizel, on Shilo’s other side.
“In the time I knew him, he seemed nothing but kind.” She uttered, brushing the hair and blood from his face to get a better look. “He should be easier than you, mostly taking away, rather than restoring.”
Viv pulled her toolkit from her bag, and worked. She sat hunched next to Shilo and muttered comforts as she pulled and replaced pieces of him that should never have moved. As much as she knew that he would not feel it, she could not help but feel sorrow of her own as she mused over if he knew he was in his own body once more.
As it turned out, he knew nothing at all, and everything in the world. He moved through blissful dreams and found Grefgor there, waiting by where the palace had been. But no matter where he searched, Evelyn evaded him. Silent tears he could cry freely poured down his cheeks, and poured harder as he realised he could breathe. In the end, Shilo Bathory had been at peace there, unchained from the Beast.
-
Evelyn Bathory knew then, with one heir to fall upon, she must come back from the dead.
The wall of the dingy house began to bleed, strings of red and black ichor leaked from between the bricks until there was no white behind it; and she stepped through as Viv placed Shilo’s last hair where it should always have been.
“This is my son? What have you done with him?” She questioned.
“Queen Bathory? You’re alive..” Arthur said, jaw slack in disbelief.
“What, you thought one as ancient as I would be torn down by fire? As it turns out, a queen does not die so easily. But my son, what happened here? Why did no one care to.. Well.. care for him?”
“A twist of misfortune, Your Majesty, I-”
“You will shut your stammering mouth, girl.” Evelyn ordered Viv, who could not have uttered another word of excuse if her unlife was on the line, instead, she settled her gaze on Emizel.
“Why didn’t you protect your brother? He was always the more.. Valuable of the two of you.”
Looking up from the brother he was deemed lesser than, Emizel Tucker Bathory felt nothing but rage. Rage at the hand he and his twin were dealt, rage at the ways they had been different, been the same. Seething, loathing rage at the woman who’d let it happen.
“Why didn’t I protect him? I tried to protect him! I stopped him walking into death a hundred times in the time I knew him. He told me about you, too. Told me about how you kept him locked away, sheltered from everything that you didn’t like. But you know what? We aren’t so different, are we? We both loved him as our own blood, because he was. But you did not ever protect him, you set him up to trip on the first thing that wasn’t the palace floor. I let him go, let him see what he wanted, but I kept him alive as long as i fucking could. You knew he was dead, didn’t you? Why didn't you use that magic to know he was dying?” Emizel inched closer, fisted balled and tears streaming through gritted teeth, despite Arthur’s desperation and Viv’s silent protest. “Huh? Why didn’t you? If you’re so ancient that you can survive anything you want, to know exactly what was happening here isn’t past you. He was a better royal than you ever were, you hear me! A thousand times better! And he’s dead. Because you didn’t protect him.”
He laid a single hand on her shoulder, and was dead. Reduced to a corpse in an instant with enough force to burn the lives he clung onto. In another moment, she was gone, too.
Two twins lay parallel, hands laid over each other in a final bid for comfort, and Shilo was waiting for Emizel there, human, as they both should have been.