Bound by Blood ch.10

“Wow...you look much better already, brother.... the hipster zombie look really suits you.” 

Hatchet winced at the loudness attacking his eardrums. Everything overwhelmed him, from the light to every clip of the scissors August had in his hands. 

It had been so long since he’d been around either. Seven years if his brothers could be believed. 

As relieved as he was they were alive and well he still narrowed his red-flinted gaze at September who was lounging in Hatchet’s black high-backed chair, his irritation burning through him at both his antagonizing and the fact his dirty sneakers were propped up on the couch. His couch. “I see you're still as charming as you were when we were kids.” 

September flashed him a boyish grin, unbothered by the sarcastic remark. Hatchet was still trying to process the changes in September as he countered, “and still much more attractive than you will ever hope to be.”  

Hatchet glared. There’s no doubt about it. That is definitely September.

August muttered behind him, cutting dead hair away from Hatchet’s scalp. “You think he was bad when we were young... just wait.” 

This made Hatchet snort, “Fantastic.” Every time he spoke it caused an ache to run down his throat. Not the ache that came from thirst but like he’d screamed and screamed for hours and had lost his voice. That was what had happened to Hatchet when he’d come to in the pitch black room, lying on his stomach with nothing but the stored treasures his father had kept. He’d screamed for minutes. Hours. Days. 

Yet no one had come for him. No one had heard. His bony hands trembled, so he gripped the arm rests of the office chair. How long was I in there after I woke up? 

Tufts of scraggly greyish black hair fell onto the navy blue sweatpants and broke his thoughts. “Almost done,” said August, his voice much deeper than when Hatchet had last spoken to him. His hand swept through Hatchet’s scalp with gentle fingers, and it unnerved him. Their relationship had been anything but affectionate, thanks to their father, and after their last conversation before the raid they hadn’t left on good terms. But there August was, carefully cutting his hair as if he was Hatchet’s mother. Treating him like a child. Like he was fragile. 

It angered him. 

He slapped August’s hands away, growling. “Are you done yet?” 

September pouted. “Aw, brother, he doesn’t like your haircut. Perhaps you should bring the scissors down just a little lower....” he fell off and ran a finger across his neck, making a sound like he was dying. 

The gesture sparked the reminder of coming so close to death that he tried to lunge at September, stopped by August sensing the attack and holding him back. September lifted his boyish face and laughed in delight, wrapping his arms draped in a black baggy sweater that fell around his lean waist.

“I forgot how amusing you are, brother! And here I thought having you back would be such a bore.” 

“September,” warned August. “Please leave him alone.” 

Hatchet shook all over. “I’ll show you death-” and how lonely it is. He gave a violent shrug of his shoulder, but couldn’t budge August’s hand. Gritting his teeth he felt the plastic arms of the chair slowly strain and crack under his pressure. But they didn’t break. 

He’d become too weak. So weak August had to defend him against September. “Move your hand from my body before I tear it off.” He wasn’t sure if he could actually do it in his condition, nor was he sure he would even if he could.  

But it had the desired effect. August sighed, and muttered, “Sorry.” Hatchet felt his shoulder freed, a small breath escaping him. He sat still when August returned to cutting his hair, chuckling quietly. “I never thought I’d be so happy to hear you threaten me again.” 

The anger encasing Hatchet eased at the sentiment. August continued, his fingers shaking out the cut strands still stuck in his hair. “Maybe with you around this moron will finally learn some manners.” 

Hatchet rolled his eyes. “September is and has always been a lost cause. We’d do better to rid of him and find someone more appropriate to be a Lamia-” 

Hatchet was startled into silence when a flashing light blinded him, making him nearly jump from his chair. “What the hell was that?” 

Through the black spots dancing over his eyes he saw September hold up a square device, another flash attacking him. 

August yelled. “For God’s sake, turn off the flash!” 

“But then I won’t capture the full walking dead look our brother is going for,” said September with a smirk. Then he brought the device back to his face. “What should I caption it? Dead man walking? Or Return of the cringe?” 

This time August didn’t stop Hatchet from lunging at September. Nor did he stop him from ripping the device out of September’s grip and squeezing it in his hand until it shattered, shards of glass and plastic raining down on a stunned September. 

Hatchet sneered. “Try captioning it now, you little b*****d.” 

September’s features hardened. “Careful brother, you seem a little weaker than the last time we met. It would be a shame if I accidentally hurt you while you’re in this condition.”

“Are you threatening me?” Asked Hatchet in a low growl. 

“I think you’ll learn soon enough that I don’t do threats, brother.” 

“Enough!” August pulled Hatchet back and held up a hand in warning to September who looked like he was about to attack whose eyes were a sheen of malice. “I get it, everyone is trying to deal with this s**t in their own way--but this isn’t helping at all.” 

Deal? “What the hell do you have to deal with?” Hatchet turned his head and looked at August. “You weren’t the one who was stabbed in the back and left for dead-you weren’t locked in a goddamn tiny room where you woke up and had no idea what year it was, how long you’d been there, too weak to break through the walls and save yourself-” stripped of all your dignity as a Lamia. Yet Hatchet kept that painful truth to himself. 

His chest heaved against his protruding ribcage. Aching in a way that was not just from hunger.  

The room hushed at his outburst and a part of him feared they would leave him for it. Then August shook his head and wore a pained expression. “You’re right...we don’t know what that’s like. And we won’t try to pretend we had it worse-but we did lose everyone... including you. We thought you were dead, Hatchet...This hasn’t been easy for us, either,” he finished, looking tired. 

A part of Hatchet wanted to cave and accept this had been rough on both ends. September ruined that with one sentence.

 “Speak for yourself. I got over his death right after that half-a*s funeral we had for him.” 

September’s words stung. But Hatchet wasn’t about to show all of his cards like he did the last time. He shook his head and backed away from his brothers. 

“Speaking of the bloodbath that became our home,” drawled Hatchet, wanting to stray away from vulnerability and feelings. “How did you two get out?” 

Hatchet saw September look disappointed and felt a moment of victory at not adding fuel to his fire. August was the one who answered, his hand resting on the top of Hatchet’s high backed chair. “September and I had been together in my room when we heard the gunshots go off. We headed to the safe room and locked ourselves in. We thought others would join, “he said with a somber look, “but it was just us two. When the footsteps and noise stopped altogether I opened up the door and looked around...” he let his voice drift away, leaving the rest to interpretation. 

Hatchet felt a prick of sympathy for him. “You're the one who found all the bodies.” 

August grimaced with a curt nod. “After we didn’t find you we thought the GARD took you into custody along with your companion, but no one had any records of you anywhere. You just...vanished.” 

So, he has no idea what the hell actually happened. Taking the authoritative role he used to be in he lifted his head and demanded, “did the records you searched for have any information on why we were attacked?” 

September pouted. “Yup. And you’ll never know the truth because you broke my phone where all the files were on it.” 

August rolled his eyes. “You brought that on yourself. You shouldn’t have antagonized him.” 

This is strange...August never paired up with me before to gang up on September. It was always the other way around...and he was the one who’d had to defend himself against the two. Shaking off the warmth trickling to his nearly unbeating heart, he got back to business. “What did the records say?” 

“There really wasn’t much,” sighed August, looking like he’d already said the same thing about a dozen times. “It just said they got word about the unethical methods Father was employing with the humans who contracted with us and they decided to eradicate the demon problem.”

By “unethical” he meant the humans being cleansed after their contracts ended. The reason he’d stepped in and saved Evie from the same fate. 

How stupid that decision had been. 

“Now, it wasn’t all a waste of time,” remarked September. He’d been quietly sulking but now his lips quirked up and revealed the dimple on the side of his face. “Turns out your little piggy came to us after the eradication from the Rose clan. Care to know why they were being wiped out?” added September with a conspiratorial smile. Hatchet quirked a thin black brow at him as he finished with “they were trying to create an army of zombie-like human vampires. Hey...you’d be perfect for that right now!”

Hatchet ignored the obvious bait to rile him up. “I don’t care about the Rose clan-” and I already knew she came from there. Jain had come clean after Hatchet had saved Evie from August when he’d been about to break her wrist in the courtyard. He’d confided that Hatchet's father had planned to cleanse her. Keeping the conversation away from that he returned to the Rose clan, adding, “besides, they’re all dead now.” 

A good thing, too. He and his brothers wouldn’t have stood a chance if anyone from the Rose clan was still alive. 

He took a couple of slow steps towards the large square window. His memory attacked him with images of a short, chubby girl sitting on the window seat, puffing her cheeks at him as he’d teased her. 

He scowled, catching his reflection in the early afternoon sun, the glow shyly pressing through the dusty glass showing all the changes his body went through at being locked up in darkness for several years. The sensitivity to the light had faded some due to his quick healing abilities and the blood he’d consumed earlier, but his eyes still teared up from it. 

Zombie, he discovered, was an apt description of how he now looked. His angular face was jagged and sharp, gaunt from the lack of blood and fresh air of several years, his nose and cheekbones jutting out on his face. He’d always been pale yet now his skin resembled the color of ashes, which meshed unpleasantly with the matte grey-black hair. 

That wasn’t what bothered him the most about his new appearance. It was his eyes. Once filled with certainty and calm his gaze now looked vacant as it stared back at him. Lost. All because of her. Hatchet's jaw clenched as he turned away from the ghost in the mirror. And focused on what mattered now. “What happened to the humans after the raid?” 

“As far as I know they were taken into custody and let go.” 

Clenching his fists by his sides he forced himself to ask, “what about Evie?” 

August paused. “I don’t know what happened to her.” 

Slowly turning he faced his brothers. Resolute. “I need to find her.” 

September laughed while Hatchet caught August running a hand through his dark blue hair, looking like he was about to lose his patience. “Ah, but of course you do,” said September in amusement. “She’s all you ever cared about after all.” 

Hatchet focused on August so he wouldn’t attack September. August briefly shut his eyes before speaking. “Hatchet, we have more important issues to deal with than you reuniting with your old companion-”

“What issues?” interrupted Hatchet sharply. August stared at him like he was crazy. It made Hatchet want to laugh, a feeling he wasn’t used to. Taking the lapse in a response, Hatchet sat down in the office chair and stared at his brothers as authoritatively as he could, leaning back in the swivel chair and crossing one leg over the other. August and September exchanged looks as he continued, “whatever you think might be important I don’t care. My only priority is finding her and nothing more.” He glanced next to him where a side table resided and picked up the pair of scissors August had been using. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to finish my haircut.” 

August tensed. “We haven’t been able to find her since she left. Don’t you think we tried? She was with you when the raid took place, right? That was the first place we looked to see if it would bring us to you.” When Hatchet just stared at him, unblinking, August added in a placating tone. “Now that we have you there is no need to look for her. We can find you a new companion...or companions... whatever you want. People are into the vampire thing now so I’m sure it will be easier than it used to be for us...”

Hatchet wanted to rip off the arm of his chair. Instead, he took a deep breath and continued on with a calm air, a feat he was surprised he could do. “I think you misunderstand me, brother... I don’t want to find Evie and return her as my companion.” 

“What do you mean you don’t want her as your companion?” 

September leaned forward and eyed him curiously. “If you don’t want her as your companion...then what do you want her for?” 

Hatchet lifted the scissors and watched the strands of light catch on the silver blades.  

The only thing I’ve wanted to do since I woke up in that room. Since she betrayed me. 

He smiled. “I want to kill her.”