l e g a c y

“Because I know how much your family means to you.” Ørjan offered, being a Lykos was everything to Anders. “And what Valhalla means to your people.” The spirit furthered, he could only imagine the turmoil that the man was in and while Ørjan presently lacked the power to help him, he knew of three other oneiroi in the city that would likely assist a friend of Ørjan‘s. “Creatures not of this world, oneiroi: beings made of air and fire, it’ll take a pair of them.”

-

Ørjan‘s insistence on knowing what his family meant to him caught Anders off guard. They seemed to know him better than they were letting on, or at least better than Anders could remember. “I don’t get Valhalla. Not anymore. Not like this.” He was certain that even the Valkyries couldn’t reach across and pull him from Persephone’s clutches. “So there’s no use talking about it, is there?” Anders didn’t mean it as a dig, just a simple fact as he looked at the spirit. Frowning, the vampire shook his head, “A pair of really difficult to find spirits? You’re kidding, right?”

“Who said I haven’t?” Emre asked, he’d suggested it to Ariston already, and as always the now-shifter had jumped at the idea of something new. There was something thrilling about voyeurism, something especially thrilling about fucking in a crowded space where no one could tell where the grunting, moaning, and skin slapping was coming from. “You could get a job, start making some money.” Emre offered, “I started doing renovations around the city, you’d be amazed at how many people are building homes these days. I could use an extra set of hands.” Emre asked as they headed towards their first destination, a bright white home only a few blocks from the beach. The door was bright red, with matching shutters on the windows. 

-

Anders laughed a little, pushing his hands into his pockets now as he walked beside the reaper. The talk of relationships made him cringe, but what else could he say? He was adverse to them, anyway. “A job? I guess.” He was a welder, however, and he wasn’t sure he’d get by with his barely passable Greek. “Wait, really?” He looked at Emre again, “I could help you. I guess it gives me something to do.” Anders would have to write that down – or do something to make sure he remembered to show up. “How much more Greek could you get than this place?”

@andersxlykos​

They’d come all the way from Sweden to learn of what had happened to Anders and why the Lykos hadn’t returned with Hakon’s remains as he was intended to. And what Arvid found instead was that while Hakon now lived once more, Anders did not. The witch kept his distance from him even now, unsure of what the vampire might do if Arvid got too close. It would have been easy to write the man off, he was a monster now, wasn’t he? Technically dead, at least. The family would have a funeral for him, vampires had no place in their coven. “I always looked up to you, you know.” Arvid was younger, but the head family seemingly had everything. The prodigal daughter, the capable son, another witch as a spare. Arvid’s place was among the dead, just as his father’s had been before him. For so long he wanted what they had - power, position, authority. He’d have killed Hel herself to get it. Now he just felt sorry for them, Arvid was free, and in a way he supposed Anders was too. 

-

“Regret it yet?” Anders deadpanned, looking over at Arvid. He could smell the witch a mile away, but he’d been getting better with his urges to rip out every witch’s throat he came into contact with. He looked at his cousin, a frown on his face now, “Why have you not gone home yet, Arvid? Or are they sending as many of us as they can here, just in case?”

There was no denying the truth that his blood had no appeal to the vampire, but he didn’t want to give anything away. Not that there was much to worry about when it came to the shifter. “Not a reaper, but I am a spirit. I smell a bit like them.” Ørjan offered instead as he looked the vampire up and down, apart from the fact that Anders was effectively dead now, he didn’t look any worse off than he’d been before. It was a shame about the other’s family, he knew that the Haljesta had qualms with vampires - it was they whose magic had created the wolves to combat the immortal race so many centuries prior. Ørjan’s gaze lingered on the other for a beat too long maybe, he wondered if he was happy, it didn’t seem so. “I’ve heard of creatures who can reverse vampirism and make people human again.” 

-

Anders looked confused for a moment, unsure what else the other could be if not a reaper. Either way, the vampire crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling a bit closed off. Ørjan was right on the mark ,wasn’t he? “How do you know I want to be human again?” Not exactly human, but mortal, at least. Anders was trying his best to remain calm, his tattered mind already racing. “What do you know? I’m – I’ve been looking. So has my family, but no one has...no one has been able to fuckin’ find a thing. But – what is it you’ve heard?”

“We met a few years ago,” half-truths were maybe his best option. If memory served Anders’ memory was shit enough that Ørjan might be able to get away with it. “my parents live near Haljesta.” Despite the spirit’s muted powers Ørjan could feel the lack of, well, anything that came off of the man. A still heart, a breathless body. Anders had always been handsome but now he was frozen like this forever. “Does your family know what happened to you?”

-

Anders wondered if he should be offended, but decided against it as he looked at his...apparent acquaintance. He really needed to get better with names and faces. “You could see it as an upgrade, I guess. And who knows, they haven’t called. But – What the hell are you, then? You don’t smell like a witch. Those fuckers come around the corner and you can smell their blood. Are you – a reaper or something?”

“I’ve been seeing someone for a few months now.” Emre commented, “He lives with his brother so between our living situations it’s hard to get some time alone.” The reaper house was getting crowded too, it had been nice at first being around people who were going through or had gone through the same thing as him but Emre had been living there for over a year now. He was adjusted and it felt like it was time to move on. The reaper could go anywhere in an instant, but he liked Greece, and with Ariston he had good reason to stay. “It feels like the right time, you’ve been in Corinth just as long as me. Aren’t you tired of living in someone else’s space?”

-

“Right. So you’re being cockblocked by his sibling. Can’t you just make you both like – invisible or whatever? Invisible sex. Ha. Why has no one thought of that?” Anders turned to lock the door, leaving the keys still in it as he turned to start following Emre. “It’s an airbnb, what else am I supposed to do? Buy a place? I didn’t bring that much money. I don’t get paid. And I’m dead. Do I compel someone to let me rent out the airbnb for free? Yes, but not the point. I ain’t sharing a space with anyone.”

“Dante, or the other one?” Aydin had met a handful of the Lykos in Corinth, and he gestured now as he tried to summon a name. “Arvid.” It sounded to him like there were very few witches who had stayed in their home, and he wondered what the coven was doing now— if it continued as his own had without him, or if the loss of a handful of young people was felt like a wound. He shook his head, Anders’ words were too far from the truth. “No,” he said, looking at the other man. “I don’t hate having them care about me.” He snorted, thinking back to the home he had run away from in Istanbul. “I don’t even know what that’s like.”

-

“Dante.” Anders, despite his hatred for the genasi’s road to power, was still mildly protective of his younger sibling. He’d still protect him, but he was certain he wouldn’t have to protect him from this new cousin of theirs. “Arvid is here?” Shit, the whole damn fam had apparently arrived. “Well, you’re blood, so I guess now you’ll know. Hell, even Fenrir is here. That fucker is apparently unhinged and living with Dante.”

“Stay here?” Emre asked, not wanting to sound rude but the place was kind of a dump. “No, no. I want my own space. Or uh, at least a space I like.” The reaper said simply, though maybe living together wasn’t the worst idea. Emre hadn’t considered a roommate but it really looked like Anders needed him more than the reaper needed to live with the vampire. “I value your opinion, so come on.” Emre opened the front door to see the keys sitting in the lock still, he tossed them towards Anders. “First appointment is in ten minutes.”

-

Anders frowned, “I mean, it’s an Airbnb, it’s not that bad.” He nodded after a second, deciding that it would just be him now. The only company he got was his aunt or the housekeeper Dante had hired. It felt nice to actually be needed for once, and despite that they no longer had a romantic relationship, Anders still held Emre close to his now undead heart. He took the keys, “I was looking for these,” he murmured, surprised as to where they were before he followed after the reaper. “So is this like a permanent place then? You want to live here?”

It happened now and then, Ørjan didn’t know why but he’d switch between the face he wore often and the other. Sometimes for a few weeks, other times it was for longer. When last he’d taken Pål’s face he was in Sweden, traveling near the Haljesta in the hopes of finding word of his talisman. The coven was ancient and powerful, Pål thought perhaps they would have discovered its whereabouts or knew how to locate it. He’d been caught snooping around the coven and instead of revealing himself to the shifter, the spirit had fallen into bed with him. When he awoke some months later as Ørjan the spirit didn’t know what to say, so instead he disappeared. “Anders.” Ørjan greeted, he should have thought that the vampire wouldn’t know him in this form, but he didn’t care. The shifter was a shifter no more. Ørjan took a step closer, “What happened to you?”

-

There was always an oh shit moment for Anders when someone recognized him, and he pulled a blank as he stared at the other. If he had paid attention, he would have noticed a slight similarity in the air held around the other. Yet now he was just confused, “Uh – yeah, where do I know you from?” The other’s accent placed him from Sweden as well, and Anders took a step backwards when the other stepped forward. “I’m – Look, I don’t know what to say, okay? Did my parents send you?”

Anders put his hand on this human’s shoulder, frowning as he compelled them, “Forget you ever saw me.” He watched as the human walked away, confused, and the vampire found himself a little relieved that this had been easy enough for him. He was getting better at compelling his victims, but it still made him sick to his stomach. The idea that he drank blood. His parents were informed about it, and he’d heard little from them. What could they do? Turning, he came face to face with someone else, and he instantly wondered if he’d had a witness. “Um – can I fuckin’ help you?”

“I live in a glorified frat house with about a half dozen other reapers.” Emre said as he ran a tired hand over his face, “I need space.” It had made sense at first when Emre was freshly kept from the grave. He was in mourning for his old life and who better to provide a sense of comfort than those who had been through the same ordeal. “I have a few apartments picked out, but I need help narrowing them down.” The reaper added before he started going through the process of looking for the man’s keys, because truly they could be anywhere. Emre started with the kitchen. 

-

Anders huffed out a laugh, “You mean you’re not excited about that?” He couldn’t blame the other, and for once, a pang of loneliness hit him. “You can stay with me, you know. Ain’t a lot here, but I don’t take up that much space. It’s not even – well, none of this stuff is mine. I just rented the place,” he admitted, looking over at Emre. “Or if you really want my help, then fine, let’s go, yeah?”

What had started as a ride by lecture had turned into a lot more fun than Giovanni anticipated. He fixed the rest of the buttons on his shirt, already hearing wedding bells in the back of his head. The vampire couldn’t wait to tell Harlow all about this, his eyes lingered somewhat shamelessly on the other before he remembered himself. “Yeah, here-” Giovanni scribbled down his number on a napkin and then offered it to Anders. “call me.”

-

This George guy – it started with a G, right? – was looking at him strangely. Anders wasn’t sure why he looked like he’d written his wedding vows in his head already, but the vampire managed a smile as he took the napkin. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with it yet, if he even remembered who it belonged to in a few days. “Sure thing. Have a nice...night.”

“I have found myself contemplating the darkest of thoughts when it comes to doing what I thought was right. But I can admit I was wrong and stupid.” Lost and scared, too. “Who is to say? Petrichor was always the most knowledgable, I will ask him. And Fenrir spent the rest of his days with witches, he may know something as well.” She made a note to ask both her brothers when they spoke next. “Were these rumors recent, from around here? Perhaps I can pick up a trail.”

-

Anders rose an eyebrow, though what could he say to that? Again, he loved his siblings too much to contemplate anything else. No matter their anger towards each other. “Right. Well, if your whole damn fam can’t figure it out, then there’s no hope for me,” he joked, looking to pour himself another cup of coffee only to see that he misplaced his mug once more. Picking up a new one, he poured the coffee, “Dante seems to think so. That there are creatures here who might hold the power to it. Sounds like bullshit.”

She gives him a look. “Petrichor and I have spent thousands of years fighting. I sought to kill him just within the last year, I wouldn’t say he and I have been particularly close either. You do not owe your life to a box of bones. If anyone should have been entrusted in the safekeeping of them, it should have been my siblings and I. Putting that on your coven wasn’t right.” The exhaustion that radiates from him is saddening. “No, no I can’t say I ever looked into finding a cure.” She thinks of Hektor and the hatred she has always felt for him and his kind. “But three of my unkillable siblings have been dead at one point and two have returned. So I wouldn’t slot myself in a group of people who think vampirism isn’t curable.”

-

“You wanted to kill your brother?” Anders thought that was a bit too low even for Ptolema, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. As much as he and Dante had disagreed, he’d never wanted his brother to die – let alone by his own hands. Most of his anger had stemmed from Dante putting himself in that kind of danger in the first place. “Right. Well, that’s not what happened. So here we are. Do you think they would even know the answer? I’ve heard shitty rumors, but I don’t have – sometimes, I don’t have the best memory.”

What did it say about Giovanni if feeding always made him horny, this vampire was new, but attractive enough to also be interesting. Maybe this was the beginning of something beautiful, another chapter in Giovanni’s search for love. Being a vampire meant that Anders was immortal, and so when Gio kissed he quietly measured the manner in which the other used his lips, how he approached with his tongue - forever was a long time, he needed to make sure that the person he fell for was also a great kisser. Hungry hands tugged him closer as he tasted blood on Anders’ lips, wanting and needy as he let the other pull him closer and idly melting into his form. 

-

Anders wished he could remember this vampire’s name. The alley was a blur, up until the club and the mindless fuck they’d just had in the back room. He picked up his shirt, not bothering to check for blood stains as he pulled it on. What was this one’s name? Skipping over that, he smirked, “Thanks – for all this. The crash course on this place, and...that was fun. See you around sometime then, maybe.”

“I’m good -” Emre said, he didn’t need to remind the other that these visits weren’t necessarily for his own benefit. He wished there was a way he could help Anders, with his vampirism, with his memory, but all he’d ever heard of a cure were rumors. Myths. Genies in bottles and magic wishes. “I’m going apartment hunting this morning, I could use some advice” He tossed a pair of pants at the other, he didn’t need advice but Anders needed something to do that wasn’t ripping out throats. Idle hands. “Get dressed.” 

-

Anders picked up the first shirt in his drawer, pulling it on and glancing at the reaper. “You’re moving? Why? Where are you looking?” He idly wondered with whom, too, so he would wait a few seconds to ask that question. “I haven’t been able to find my house keys. Gotta find ‘em before we leave.”

“You two have the same jaw.” Ørjan pointed out, but Anders was much more attractive. His brother looked like he was made out of whatever was left over from Michelangelo’s David. There were a number of things the spirit had never experienced, getting drunk was among them, but most humans seemed to enjoy the processo so he could pretend at like he did too. Drunk behavior was easy to emulate, just get a bit sloppy. “Skål.” Ørjan smiled as he downed the first shot of many, “So, you are on vacation, yes. Do you have a trade? Greece is an expensive trip.” Ørjan didn’t need to point out they were drinking on Anders’ brother’s dime. 

-

“Thanks, Orlog. But at least say I look better,” Anders gave a wry smile, picking up his shot as well. “Skål,” he echoed, downing the first one. It did nothing, and the vampire was so ready to show this guy what it meant to be a vikingr. “A trade? I mean, I guess. I’m a welder. Or I used to be. Haven’t worked in a while. My brother has all the money. But I’ve been here for a while; had some family move here too. So I’m doing fine. You?”