Of Gods and Monsters

Dead Hearts

"I won't go whistling by your grave

If you don't go whistling in my mind

Welcome to a place where nightmares

Are the best part of my day

I'm buried in this house

I'll never leave this floor

A page full of "je t'aime"s for you

I know I should have said it more."

-Dead Man's Bones

After a relatively tense walk back home, Elek wasted no time in attempting to appease Ambrus. He wanted him to see the new truth he'd found. Tried to explain to him that they'd done the right thing, that it didn't matter what they did. They held endless possibilities. But his efforts were wasted. Ambrus just watched him speak enthusiastically with a dull and anguish-filled expression.

"You don't understand, Elek. There's so few of us, so very few, especially in Budapest. We're utterly alone now."

The pain in his voice was barely noticeable, but it didn't escape Elek. Elek scoffed at his close-mindedness.

"Then we simply move on. In an endless life, why stay rooted to the same spot like a tree? We're birds now, able to fly and do whatever we want. Besides-"

He said, moving onto the couch the Ambrus was sitting in, head in hands. Elek noted how Ambrus nearly always wore white gloves, concealing his hands. And tonight was no different. He sat down, causing the weight to shift and Ambrus became aware of his position. With nimble and purposeful exactness, Elek removed a glove from Ambrus's hand, revealing the creamy translucent flesh of his long and elegant hands. He brought it to his face, caressing his own cheek. Ambrus simply let him, too shocked and too upset to protest.

"---you have me now."

Ambrus's resolve shattered and he wrapped his ungloved hand around his throat, squeezing slightly, testing the flesh there and catching the sight of his own claim on the boy. Then finally, throwing him down onto his back, pinning him expertly underneath his large form. He felt in the back of his mind that something was eventually going to go horribly wrong, but for right now, all he needed was to feel the softness of Elek's lips again. To see that gleam in his eye sparkle. Finally he hissed.

"Stop talking."

--

Victor had left the theatre to retrieve another victim for the next night's festivities. He felt quite proud of himself for setting up the band of misfits that currently resided with him. He'd never had a family before, mortal or immortal. Orphaned and sickly, he'd never known anything but loneliness. Not until perhaps Ambrus had found him, and then the theatre. It had been his suggestion, he remembered. He felt just a twinge of guilt, putting Ambrus's toy in emotional turmoil. But when he'd seen the way Ambrus looked at Elek, he'd felt jealousy. That was simply the truth of the matter. It seemed his jest had done more damage than he had initially planned. He'd have to apologize once time had smoothed over their collective anger.

He thought on the theatre again as he began to slowly walk back towards it. It was nice to find something consistent, something solid. Victor had seen the whole world nearly, certainly it had been fun, but it had done nothing to quell the need for acceptance deep in his heart. Sometimes he cursed his own maker for his lack of self-confidence, but he knew it was something that he'd always had. Hid in his mortal soul, that had clung to him after death. It had been Ambrus who had befriended him when he'd first come to Budapest. A Frenchmen with no family or friends, without any form of companionship at all. Ambrus had seen him, seen what he was from nearly a mile away. Sauntered over to him at a party, seemingly equally as desperate for a contemporary. Victor had immediately gotten the impression Ambrus was a hopeless romantic, underneath all his grandeur and cynicism. If you chipped away the exterior, he was lonely, and afraid.

Victor began to smell smoke then, his thoughts expelling rapidly. He could hear the faint sounds of screaming and bells. His dead heart rose to his throat as he began a fast pace towards the direction of his home. To his horror, the smoke only became fiercer. Finally, he saw the destruction. He immediately sank to his knees, feeling dread and sadness grip every part of his soul. The theatre was all but destroyed, firemen were just now putting it out, for it had been burning for a while it seemed. People had left their homes surrounding it to watch the scene unfold. In the drama of it all, nobody paid attention to Victor, kneeling and crying on the cobblestone.

Victor's mind could barely work. The faces of all of his friends-no, family-flashed before his eyes. All gone, all of them. Alone, alone, alone. The words reverberated inside his head and he felt sick. Wet, blood soaked his face. He'd been crying and hadn't even noticed. In the shield of the night, nobody seemed to notice his anguish and for that he was at least somewhat grateful. He stood on shakey feet, and clenched his fists so tightly his inhumanly sharp nails drew blood. Elek, Ambrus. It must've been them. After a few nights they'd come back, taken revenge on him. All of this for some mortal woman? For their own egos? He shook with rage now, letting a deep snarl escape his mouth, rumbling deep within his chest.

"je les tuerai tous."