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Camilla found him next to the body, arms curled over his knees, rocking like a child after a nightmare. The throne room was vast and empty, and her footsteps echoed until she was near enough to be muffled by the carpet.
"It's what you wanted." She reminded him.
Hugh shook his head.
"It's what you wanted." Camilla said again, more firmly. She stepped in front of the body, and Hugh's vision was blocked by pink chiffon. "You have the whip?"
"No." His voice was rusty, and echoed. He stared at his hands, shaking, and bloodstained where he had clamped the knife wound to his bicep until it stopped bleeding. A lucky hit—no, a skilled hit. The kind of perfect aim borne from natural talent and honed by obsessive practice.
Camilla sighed. "Such a child. Take it, boy. I wasn't the one who dealt the killing blow. It's not mine to claim. I don't want it anyways; the leather will burn my flesh. You hunters, always salting your weapons."
"You know I mean to kill you." Hugh said quietly. "That I mean to kill all of you. I joined you to kill you."
Camilla laughed, high and nasal. "Of course I do, my twice-traitor. You think I believed for a second that your jealousy was so overwhelming that you would forsake your own father? Ha! Of course this was a ploy. You beat daddy's favorite, take his whip and his glory, and kill Dracula in front of your father. You're very simple, precious."
"He wasn't supposed to die." Hugh's voice echoed numbly. "He didn't—he didn't dodge. He was supposed to move."
"Perhaps he trusted you not to skewer him." Camilla examined her nails. "Up up. Take your prize."
Hugh reached blindly around her skirts, and touched a cold hand. His fingers recoiled.
"Sobbing now?" Camilla said in disgust. "You child. I want chaos , not tears. Pull yourself together, you pathetic wretch."
"Shut your foul mouth, demon ." Hugh swiped at her, hitting her thigh and digging his blunt nails into her skin. Camilla snorted. "I thought you were loyal to Dracula! You wanted to kill my father because of loyalty ! I wanted to use your loyalty against you! You couldn't resist the irony of turning the son of the man who killed Dracula. I was using you! I was going to use you to get close to him and kill him! And I—I needed the whip, and—" Hugh cut himself off. "I—"
His voice was ragged, and the emotion left him panting.
"I am loyal to myself, boy. Dracula is an opportunity, the same way you were. It's important to be forthright with your intentions. Honesty. I can tell you aren't too honest with yourself." Camilla cocked her head. "Did you love him?"
Hugh looked at her, blankly.
"Him." She clarified, and kicked her heel backwards, catching the body.
"Don't!" Hugh grabbed her ankle. "Don't you—"
"Don't I what? He's dead. Nothing I do to him is worse than what you've already done."
Hugh's stomach heaved, and he wretched on the ground next to Camilla's silk slippers. Her face curled in disgust.
"Pathetic."
"He said he killed you." Hugh gasped. "That I—I should be free of your control because you were dead."
"Was that what set you off? That he couldn't even fathom his own involvement in," Camilla waved a hand at Hugh, wiping his face on his sleeve, " this . How stupid. At least the Belmonts had half a brain between the lot of them. Now it's nothing but mindless children floundering in the dark. I miss Simon."
"Shut up." Hugh croaked. "Just shut up! You—I—you made me do this."
A lie. Honesty was important.
"Talking to me?" Camilla stepped out of the way, revealing the body. Hugh recoiled. "Take responsibility for your actions, dear. I offered you an opportunity—you took it because you wanted to use me to kill Dracula."
Hugh reached over, and finally took the whip from Nathan's body. The leather was warm in his fist. There was a crackle of power in it, in the holy water used to tan the leather, in the blessed salt Nathan chewed into it, in the sigils carved into the hawthorn that made up the handle. It was magnificent to behold when he was young, when his father first gave him the whip to hold. He hadn't touched in five years, not since his father's knee had been injured enough that he was no longer reliable enough to protect them, and Nathan had officially been given the whip.
It was lighter now. There was a bloodstain on the wrappings.
"Can…" his mouth was dry. He rewetted his tongue.
"Yes?"
"Is there—can you bring the dead back to life?"
Camilla cackled. The room pealed with laughter, and she slumped to her knees and fell on her side.
"Shut up!" Hugh covered his ears.
Camilla went silent and rolled onto her stomach, propping her elbows on Nathan's blood splattered chest. "I thought you had a question? I suppose I won't answer it then."
Hugh glared at her from beneath his bangs. "You brought Dracula back from the dead."
"True." Camilla nodded. "But that is impermanent. He'll return to what he is the second he leaves my castle: dirt in a coffin. That's why you all needed to die—life for a life." She held her hands out to the side of her face, still propped on Nathan's body. "The scale cannot remain tipped."
"And if he were to die, the scale would swing back." The whip creaked in his hands. "Dracula has killed so many people. His one death… the scales…"
"Oh, clever boy." Camilla cooed. "And here I thought you were too rash to think. But no: no matter how many lives my Lord's existence is worth, humans cannot return from the grave. It is beyond mortal power."
Hugh stared at his feet, at the whip in his hands. He was being goaded, driven to a conclusion that he didn't want to consider. He wasn't thinking clearly. He hadn't closed Nathan's eyes. His slack blue gaze was staring at Hugh.
Why didn't you dodge? You're supposed to be better than me.
'Why'd you kill me?' The blank, clouded eyes seemed to say. 'You're supposed to be my brother.'
"And," Hugh said slowly, "if he were not mortal?"
Camilla's grin widened, displaying all of her teeth.
"Now you're asking the right questions."