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Like a divine punishment, thunder tore through the sky and, for brief instants, illuminated the endless corridors of the mansion. Corridors far too long, far too dark, far too empty. The violent white light revealed the paintings hanging on the walls: ancient faces, painted eyes that seemed to follow him, to watch him, to judge him. As soon as the light vanished, the darkness swallowed everything again.
Rain lashed violently against the tall windows, as if it wanted to get in, as if it wanted to reclaim something that belonged to it. Outside, the trees twisted in the wind, and their shadows were cast upon the walls, warping until they became grotesque figures, unreal, alive.
The mansion felt different that night. Bigger, colder, lonelier.
Too lonely for a place that, even on its best days, already was.
He hated loneliness.
He ran barefoot across the carpet, his steps clumsy and hurried. The cold of the floor seeped into his feet, but he didn’t stop. In one hand he carried a small sheep plush, clutched awkwardly by one ear. The toy’s body dragged along the floor, hitting it as he ran, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let it go. Not now.
He dodged shadows that seemed to move, that seemed to want to grab him. His lips trembled as he tried to hold back the sobs threatening to break free, though he could no longer fool himself: his eyes were flooded with tears, and his fangs, small but sharp, peeked out without him being able to help it.
He was scared.
When he reached the door, he knocked desperately. Once, twice, three times. Every second stretched like an eternity. His heart beat so loudly he could hear it in his ears, like a drum marking panic. He tried to ignore the thunder, the rain, the storm that seemed to roar just for him.
And then.
The door opened.
He didn’t wait for an invitation. He burst in, as if the room were a sacred refuge. He barely saw the bed, too tall, a bed he had never been able to climb onto without help, but this time he didn’t know how he did it. He simply climbed up, crawled beneath the sheets, and hid there, curled up, hugging his plush with all his strength.
The door closed behind him.
Or maybe it didn’t.
He wasn’t sure. There was too much noise.
A bolt of lightning lit up the room, and then he felt it: someone lifting the sheets.
—Bee...—
His eyes flew open.
That nickname, that damned nickname.
I swear I heard Mom’s voice.
But Mom wasn’t there.
Only Cedric.
His older brother looked down at him, hair messy, body tired, eyes that seemed to beg the whole world for mercy. And yet, in them, there was concern. Genuine, deep concern, meant only for him.
—What happened...?—
He asked softly.
Kieran had never liked storms. Not even now, at six years old, had he managed to overcome it. He still hated them. But that wasn’t what had sent him running to his brother’s room.
Yes, he had thought about asking to sleep with him when he saw the sky shatter with thunder. But he had fallen asleep before that.
It wasn’t the storm.
It was the nightmare.
A horrible one, suffocating, impossible to forget. Not as horrible as seeing Mom torn apart, no... but enough. Kieran no longer wanted to lose anyone else. He had lost his mother in the forest, he had lost his father when he stopped looking at him the same way. And even if Aunt Carmen hated him... he didn’t want to lose her either.
And that meant.
That he didn’t want to lose Cedric either.
When his brother’s hands tried to pull him closer to hug him, the little vampire couldn’t hold it in. The crying burst out, loud, broken.
—Cedric!—
He sobbed.
—Don’t ever leave! Never, never, never... please!—
His crying sounded childish, desperate, almost like a tantrum. Just like Aunt Carmen said: detestable, incoherent, annoying. But Cedric didn’t say any of that.
He just hugged him.
He pulled him to the center of the bed, covered them both with the sheets, including the plush, as if it needed protection too.
—Don’t say nonsense.—
He murmured.
—I’d never leave you, now...—
Cedric didn’t need to be a genius to understand. The nightmares always had the same root.
—It was just a bad dream—
He continued.
—And your real brother… listen carefully... would never leave you.—
Kieran wiped his tears on Cedric’s nightshirt. He didn’t complain. He didn’t even move.
—But... it felt so real.—
He pulled back a little, sitting up. He raised his arms dramatically, the way only a child his age would.
—I didn’t understand anything, but you were mad at me! You said things about Mom, about betrayal... Dad and you were fighting, everything was chaos!—
His voice broke.
—And then you left... days passed and you didn’t come back. You left me!—
Sadness seeped into every word. Kieran fell back onto the pillow, pressing his lips together tightly. His brother’s silence was broken by a soft laugh, almost drowned out by the storm.
—Don’t laugh!—
He hiccupped through sobs.
He didn’t expect the attack that came next.
Cedric pulled the sheets up, covering them completely, hiding the thunder, the moon, the world. His arms wrapped tightly around Kieran. The child squirmed, but it was useless: kisses to his forehead, one after another.
—Nooo! I’m not a baby anymore!—
—You are.—
Cedric laughed.
—You’re still a baby with ridiculous nightmares.—
—They’re not ridiculous!—
The tears returned, but Cedric held him tighter, shielding him from the cold of his own body.
—They’re ridiculous because I could never leave you—
He whispered.
—How many times do I have to repeat it? I’m never going to leave you.—
Silence.
Only the storm could be heard.
—Say it again...—
Kieran closed his eyes against his brother’s chest. That night he didn’t need the plush, even if it had been a gift from Dad. He only needed that: the certainty that Cedric was there.
—I won’t leave—
Cedric said softly.
—I’ll stay with you forever. If I have to repeat it until the end of time, I will. I’m not going to die... and I’m not going to leave you either.—
He lowered the sheet a little, letting the moonlight illuminate their faces.
—Now sleep... tomorrow we can go to the park and kick some humans.—
He said it like a promise.
Kieran smiled.
—I’d like that.—
When Kieran woke up, he almost fell out of the chair.
The fireplace in the office was cold. The flames had died hours ago, and the chill in the room was the same as outside. Everything was in order. Too much in order. Just as Cedric had left it.
But something was missing.
He was missing.
Kieran brought a hand to his head and looked up at the ceiling, as if that might keep the tears from falling. It had been a dream, a stupid, cruel dream.
He should feel relieved. Cedric wasn’t there. He couldn’t hurt Mason, couldn’t try to destroy the Kane family. He should be happy.
But it hurt.
He missed him.
He missed his brother.
Why couldn’t he have both? Why did he have to choose between Cedric and Mason?
Now he had neither.
Cedric was gone. He had taken everything with him, as if he wanted to erase his own existence. And Mason... had ended things with him for his own good.
He was alone.
Just as he had always feared.
And, to his disgrace, he wished he could go back to the time when his biggest worry was running barefoot through the halls and hiding in Cedric’s arms. Those arms where nightmares couldn’t reach him, where memories didn’t hurt, where cruel words couldn’t touch him.
Yes.
Cedric was a liar.
And maybe, Kieran thought, as the emptiness crushed his chest, maybe it had all been his fault.