AND IN SPITE OF HIMSELF, in spite of the ill-fated circumstances he had found himself in, hector made no effort to restrain the wry smile that curled at his mouth. was this not how one should greet preordained inevitability ? with grace, and a touch of brazen cynicism. as long as isaac lived, he would hunt hector to the ends of the earth. the only astonishing thing about isaac’s reappearance, his shadow spilling over hector’s doorstep like a bad omen, a haunting, was that he had waited this long to do so.
though their last encounter had ended in bloodshed, and near fatality, hector could not fault him for the bitterness. if he could have seen himself years ago, he would have laughed until he shook at the absurdity of what he had become: ordinary. simply a man. merely human.
hector would have hated this version of him, too. he would have hated him, to see him so wondrously, grotesquely blissful. to smell himself reeking of happiness, and contentment, a man remade, reborn as no one, and nothing, simply happy.
❛ it’s good to see you too, old friend. ❜
for a wild, ludicrous moment, hector considered opening his mouth, speaking the invitation aloud. would you care to come in and join us for supper ?
foolishness. sheer, and utter foolishness. he had let himself forget, too soon and too complacent, that this what not who he was. the sheep skin he wore in this farce of being human, being a husband, was nothing more than that. he and isaac were wolves, they could hide their teeth but they would always be wolves. hector had let himself forget; isaac had not.
❛ she has nothing to do with this. nothing at all. leave her be. let her live, and i ❜ what would he not do, to save his beloved’s life ? to protect her from himself and all the horror and atrocity of his past, the only answer was anything. he would do anything. isaac’s humiliation and retribution was nothing in comparison, not even dracula’s wrath could incite the slightest spark of self-preservation. once you had loved someone as he loved rosaly, all that remained to strike fear in his heart was the thought of losing her. he would sooner die, he would sooner burn this world to ash then let anything touch her.
this was not something he could make isaac understand. their language was one of steel, and exhilaration, the singing of blood and triumph in their veins. before rosaly, the only love he had ever known was power.
❛ i'll come with you. i’ll face our master and tell him of how you defeated me. i will return with you, in chains and on my knees if you wish. i will face whatever punishment for my betrayal i deserve. just let her live. ❜