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She’s not sure what possesses her to walk over to her nephew. Perhaps it is the sullen look on his face, a look of contempt and confusion. One Eva struggles to shake off, considering how her hands are by no means clean when it comes to the death of the poor boy’s parents. Because that is what Battler is still, deep down. A boy, not yet a man.
Or perhaps it is concern over the look of determination on his face. That same look she had seen reflected upon Kyrie’s face from time to time, a look that almost frightens her. A look that speaks loudly, despite how still one’s lips remain. ‘I will get what I want’ is all Eva can read on her nephew’s face now, mixed tragically among the grief still bubbling on the surface of his eyes. She is not one to assume Battler’s intelligence, she knows he is far from daft. Perhaps he has seen something he shouldn’t have, looked past the curtain when he was told not to.
And so, Eva approaches. A step at a time, hoping she does not scare him. Luckily for the both of them, Battler doesn’t even flinch upon seeing his aunt’s face so suddenly. In true fashion fit for the boy she hasn’t seen in six years, he strikes her a confident smile, lifting his hand to wave at her. Welcoming the devil right into his company.
The six murdered in the shed is all he can talk about, of course. Eva doesn’t find it strange whatsoever, in fact, she is far more startled at how collected Battler remains with each passing word. Perhaps he is far more close to a man than a boy, after all, Eva considers with strange melancholy settling upon her chest. It doesn’t ease the guilt.
“Aunt Eva… Do you think Beatrice is one of us?”
A question passes through his lips, each word spoken with both genuine curiosity yet spoken so silently, as if afraid someone might hear. Afraid Eva herself might hear. Yet she does, her lips curling into a tiny smile. One Battler will surely read as confidence, yet one she can feel shake under the weight of her sin.
“Well, naturally. There’s no one else on this island, is there?”
Battler’s face turns sour; as if those are the words he was dreading all along. Eva can only assume he doesn’t want to suspect the people he has grown up to care for. That sort of innocence is one she lost a long time ago. Yet the boy, yet a man, in front of her still bites his lip in frustration, tiny tears gathering in the corners of his eyes… all for the people that do not deserve it. For the people who would tear each other apart just to devour the flesh of those who were meant to nurture them. People like them… People like her.
“Listen, Battler-kun.”
The boy turns his gaze towards her, a look of a lamb lost in the fog of its enclosure. Tell me who to believe in, tell me what to believe in. And she, the wolf, hesitates. And how dare she. She had already allowed the pack to devour the poor lamb’s family; had opened the gates at night for them to slaughter as they wished. All for the lamb to turn to the wolf for guidance, mistaking it for its shepherd.
She closes her eyes, masking her absent gaze into an assertive smirk. She has no right to feel such pity. Not anymore.
“How do you think the culprit was able to unlock the shutter door? It is always locked, don’t you know?”
Eva knows it is not in her best interest to lead the lamb to the other side of the river, where the wolves cannot reach him. She feels the wolves’ eyes, keeping their sight on her. Making sure she doesn’t step out of line. But despite herself, she nudges him towards the direction of the boat. One he has to step inside himself, with his own terms. With his own logic. Perhaps this is her own way of atonement. Her final chance to be the shepherd she was meant to be for him. That they were all meant to be for him.
Battler’s eyes widen slightly, before the look on his face turns curious. Pressing his palm against his lips, he silently ponders her words.
“Where’s the key for the shutter held again?” he mutters against his palm. Asking the right questions, in the right order.
Eva’s smile doesn’t waver. It cannot, not now.
“The only key for that shutter is held in the servants’ quarters, amongst all the other keys. Unlabeled as it is, it would have been hard for a regular person to pick out the right one.”
She can see the cogs in his head turn. His face is quite easy to read, Eva ponders. He’s very similar to his Father in that way. After she brings up how the culprit could have dragged the bodies from the dining hall all the way to the storehouse, the lamb’s hoof is already in the boat. Just a few more steps and perhaps she can feel a little less guilty.
He brings up the natural conclusion one can reach; the servants with their numbers, and with their keys. Although it’s not the entire truth, she doesn’t need it to be. As long as Battler can reach the right conclusion, she doesn’t mind if he skips a step or two. And yet, as the conversation continues, his demeanor begins to change. He tightens his tie with his hand, yet his grip slips a little, as if his palms are damp with sweat. Eva’s far from daft herself, knowing Battler to have gone past the previous conclusion onto the next. For who would gain the most out of the deaths of these six poor sheep?
“Your aunt can tell what you’re thinking, you know?” She doesn’t mind. It’s just another step into the boat. And besides, it’s not like he’s wrong, she reminds herself, her throat tightening the second her mind conjures said thought.
“I’m the one who gains most out of these murders. Isn’t that right?” she speaks although her throat feels like it is collapsing. From guilt or fear, she cannot tell.
Although she wishes to guide the sheep onto the boat, it would not do for the sheep to push the wolf into the river only for it to drown. So she finds excuses. For why would she kill the sheep in such a gruesome way were she determined to escape come sunrise? Of course, she wouldn’t, for she would only open the gates for the other wolves to do that instead. And in a way that is far worse.
Bringing up how Genji would have spotted both her and her husband, Eva offers her nephew her most convincing smile.
“Of course, if I’m correct about the servants’ involvement,” which she knows she is. “His word doesn’t do much to corroborate my alibi.”
“Does that mean I’m playing detective with the culprit right now then?” Battler almost barks out between his hollow laughter. Eva’s not sure what she can say to that.
Their conversation continues for a little while longer until Battler’s questions begin to run in circles Eva’s not interested in entertaining. Feigning a yawn, she excuses herself from his presence. As she walks away, she allows the muscles on her face to relax. Feeling the other wolves breathe down her neck as she turns the corner towards the entrance hall, she turns her head away from the scent of their bloody jaws. She knows she cannot rid herself of the vile stench, her own hands covered in the very same filth. But for just a brief moment, she allows herself to turn herself away. For just a brief moment, she allows herself to not remind herself of the truth.
Glancing past her shoulder towards the parlor upon hearing a brief sound of Battler’s laughter, Eva stops in her tracks in thought. Will the lamb stay in the boat and lead it to its conclusion on the other side of the river? Or will the lamb step off before the boat as much as leaves the shore? Running back into the jaws of the wolves, despite all her efforts? …Eva’s unsure. It’ll depend on Battler alone. Any further pushing and it would not be his answer anymore. Only another will, forced onto him by his family. Just like she has done to her own son many times. Just like this same family had done to her many times before. A small huff of air escapes her lips.
And well. If her guidance leads to her being devoured by the wolves when night falls… Well. She supposes she can come to terms with that in the afterlife.