#fermataheart

There was a time and a place for most things, but this was neither the time nor the place for Silas to be having second thoughts. Wearing too few layers for the weather, the zombie sat stock still in the snow, perched on the edge of the large stone slab as it began to collect on his head and shoulders. His breaths produced no puffs of condensation, neither warm nor life-giving as they were. Just a habit he hadn’t been able to break yet.

“O filos mou,” came a voice from the darkness, the sound now grating against his ears. Lifting his head, Silas peered out between the headstones and towering trees to see the faint outline of Andreas as he approached, growing clearer by the moment. Pushing himself off of his seat, Silas shook away the snow that had accumulated on him, finding that he recoiled the closer Andreas got, until the back of his legs met the cold stone.

“Really, a graveyard?” Andreas chuckled warmly. “That is so… you.” The smile he wore made Silas sick with guilt, and for the briefest of moments, he forgot that Emilio was laying in wait just out of sight.

“It’s quiet,” Silas muttered, dropping his chin as the other grew close and pulled him into an embrace. Dark eyes fluttering closed, the younger of the two hated the way he felt comforted and assaulted at the same time.

“You are right about that,” Adreas hummed, pulling back to look at Silas, hands still braced against his shoulders. “So, you wanted to talk about the job? How did it go?”

“It—” Silas swallowed his words, struggling to hide his nerves as his gaze darted quickly to where he knew the slayer was hiding. “It… was difficult.” Andreas clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“My love, of course it was. It was your first time! Don’t worry, it’ll get easier with practice, I promise.” Silas shivered despite not feeling cold, searching Andreas’ face. Maybe they could settle this without violence, maybe he could convince him that it wasn’t the right path?

“Andreas, I don’t like it, I don’t want to—” He was silenced as the elder zombie pressed a hand to his mouth, head whipping around to investigate their immediate surroundings. Finally his gaze fell back on Silas, and he looked both frightened and angry. Silas’ heart sank.

“Who did you bring with you?” he snapped, stepping away from Silas and letting his gaze dart around the dark space. Fear gripped Silas, and suddenly he regretted ever having brought Emilio into this.

“Wait,” he pleaded, more to Emilio than to Andreas, to whom he had lifted an outstretched arm. Gloved fingers reached for his lover as he battled his own inner conflict and begged his feet to move. “Don’t—”

—

The snow fell in a way that was almost tranquil. Between the soft layer it added to everything and the relative quiet of the graveyard, the night felt almost peaceful as Emilio sat behind a large stone, waiting for Silas’s companion to arrive.

The graveyard was a good place to do it. There was a hint of irony to it, in a way, a hint of humor that Emilio didn’t think Silas had intended. Graveyards were where corpses belonged, after all. The man Silas was meeting tonight should have been under the dirt a while ago, and he’d earned his place there with a vengeance in everything he’d built. A cult-like group of people who’d probably started out not unlike Silas — anxious and uncertain, doubting every order they were given but unsure how not to follow them all the same.

Emilio would feel good about killing this man. The world would be better for it.

His eyes were closed where he sat, though they opened lazily at the sound of a pair of footsteps crunching through the snow in the distance. Emilio listened, heard the low murmur of conversation. He didn’t tune in to it, didn’t try to figure out what was being said because it didn’t matter. Whatever Andreas was saying now, whatever lies he was feeding to Silas, it wouldn’t change Emilio’s goal here. He hoped it wouldn’t change Silas’s, either, hoped he’d managed to get through to the zombie if the hit Andreas had sent him on hadn’t.

But then, something shifted. Emilio could feel it, the sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather. His hand gripped the blade he’d brought along with him, sharp enough to sever a man’s head from his body with little effort, and he stretched himself into a ready position.

The gig was up. The element of surprise was abandoned. He might as well do the polite thing and introduce himself.

Emilio pushed himself to his feet, closing the distance between himself and the two zombies, blade outstretched. “You don’t gotta stick around for this part, kid,” he said, giving Silas a brief nod. “I can take it from here.”

—

Silas’ dark eyes were wide with horror as they darted between Emilio and Andreas. I can take it from here. Of course his imagination went wild with all the scenes that could play out in this graveyard, helped along by the threatening brandishing of Emilio’s knife. He heard a low growl emanating from Andreas, like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner, and it startled him. The man’s handsome face was contorted into a vicious snarl, and a sharp, humorless laugh pierced the tension in the air.

“What the fuck is this?” he looked from the threat to Silas, eyes narrowed. Silas expected rage, but was more shocked to find that the zombie was… laughing? Andreas’ cold gaze fell upon Emilio, to whom he gave a little nod of his head. “Hey man, listen, I don’t know what this kid’s been telling you, but he’s, y’know, a little funny in the head—” the zombie began, which immediately ignited Silas’ own fury. With the two still in a standoff, the youngest of them took an angry step toward Andreas.

“Fuck you,” he snapped, trembling hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Aida told me all about you.” Obviously Andreas was a bit preoccupied with making sure Emilio didn’t make any sudden moves, but he managed to spare a glance in Silas’ direction, somehow still looking condescending in spite of his nerves.

“Please, Silas, don’t tell me you believed her. You knew her all of, what, five minutes? And I have been by your side for how long?” Silas faltered in his accusations, realizing that Andreas was right. She could have said anything—she would have said anything—to get out of being killed. Of course. Silas had caught her off guard and she’d lied her way out of it.

With realization dawning on his features, he turned slowly to face Emilio. “Hang on, hang on,” he breathed, moving as if to stand between the two. “Emilio, I think I had it wrong, I—” He glanced over his shoulder at Andreas, who gave him an encouraging nod. When he turned back, of course, he could not see the wicked sneer that quickly appeared on the older zombie’s face. “Maybe we can—do we have to—” He was clearly at a loss, just trying to stave off any violence with his outstretched hands.

—

There was a moment where the whole world held its breath. Emilio was looking at Andreas, Andreas was looking at Emilio, Silas was looking at the knife like he hadn’t known this was coming. A lot of things hinged on what happened next, and Emilio was ready for a fight. Emilio was always ready for a fight.

He wasn’t ready for laughter.

The sound had him tensing, teeth clenched so tightly together that his jaw hurt because he hadn’t accounted for this, and he’d never liked things he hadn’t accounted for. “You can save the bullshit,” he growled lowly. “I’m a slayer, si? I know what you are just by being here.” There were no misunderstandings. Emilio knew that, could feel the undeadness radiating off the zombie.

But, apparently, Silas was still a little confused.

Emilio turned towards his companion, brows furrowed together as he suddenly began to backtrack, began to change his tune. “He sent you to kill someone,” he pointed out. “He sent you to kill someone, and he’s going to do it again. You said you didn’t want that, kid, so which is it? You’re okay with being a murderer now? Because that’s fine by me, too. No skin off my back if I take the both of you out here.”

But being outnumbered wasn’t something he’d counted on here. He hadn’t expected Silas to help him with the physical part, hadn’t even wanted Silas to be a part of that because he would have only gotten in the way, really, but if Silas teamed up with Andreas against him? The odds of Emilio making it out of this fell.

But Emilio was nothing if not stubborn. Foolishly so, from time to time. “I came out here to do a job, Silas. I’m gonna do the damn job.”

—

Andreas, emboldened by his success in slowly dragging Silas back to his senses, straightened his spine and stared Emilio down with a newfound sense of superiority. “Yeah, you’re a slayer, amigo. That’s fucking rich, you hear that, Silas? The killer is going to judge you for defending yourself against other killers.” He let out another laugh, taking a step toward Silas. “That’s all they are, agapi mu… it is kill or be killed. People like your friend here–like Aida—will never let us live in peace.” He gave the younger zombie a hard stare, all amusement falling away from his face. “Choose the right side.”

Fuck, they really weren’t going to make this easy, were they? Emilio was clearly hell-bent on murdering Andreas, which was seeming like less of a good idea by the second. The older zombie had a point. He had a lot of really good, compelling points. It was fine for Emilio to kill Silas in cold blood at the mere suggestion that he might defend himself against a slayer in the future, when he’d never eaten or seriously injured anyone? Who was he to be judge, jury, and executioner?

But also, Silas knew Andreas was manipulative. That much had been made clear to him, the more he spoke about his experiences with people like Milo. He knew their relationship was not a healthy one, but the compulsion to protect Andreas had been so deeply ingrained in him over so many years…

“Why… why do you get to decide?” Silas challenged Emilio, softly at first. “What makes you any better than us?” He certainly lacked the backbone of his counterpart, meekly confronting the slayer on his morals, knowing that he’d absolutely die for good by the man’s hands if he were alone. Andreas sensed this and took another step forward, placing himself beside his hesitant disciple. “Step away, Silas. I will handle this,” came his low growl, his body lowering into a stance that begged for a fight. Nervously, Silas obliged, backing up against the mausoleum once more. The weight of the firearm that Andreas had given him weeks prior became more pronounced by the second, hidden from sight. He wouldn’t use it unless it became absolutely necessary, of course, but… fuck. Fuck, this sucked.

—

Andreas was a slimeball, clearly intent on dragging Silas down with him. It was an old story. Emilio had seen it thousands of times, among zombies and vampires and humans, too. One person wanted to be better, wanted to get out of a life plagued by bad decisions and pain that they were either internalizing or passing on to someone else. And another wanted them to stay, because misery loved company, or because they needed a lackey to do what they didn’t feel like doing themselves, or because they couldn’t get out and didn’t want anyone else to either, or any other reason that they’d use to justify dragging someone else down with them.

Emilio was fucking tired of it. Especially right now.

This was supposed to be an easy gig. Take out someone who desperately needed taking out, get Silas out of whatever deal he’d made with Andreas that had him going to people’s houses like a goddamn hitman without a paycheck, go home and have a drink. It should have been over by now, but Emilio’s life so rarely went according to plan. He glared, looking as pissed off and irritated as he felt.

“I’m not here to argue with you. You don’t get to claim any kind of moral high ground with me. Maybe I’m a killer, but so are you. And you’re the one sending people to break into people’s homes, kill them when they’re not expecting it, letting someone else do your dirty work. If I were like you, I’d have taken you out before you knew I was here.”

It was clear that Silas was wavering, if there’d ever been any chance of him taking Emilio’s side at all. The most Emilio could hope for, at this point, was that the kid would turn tail and run without making Emilio’s job any harder. He didn’t want to kill Silas. It was something that almost surprised him. The kid really seemed like someone who’d just gotten himself in too deep, and he hadn’t hurt anyone yet. There was still hope for him, still a chance. But if he attacked… Emilio only knew one way to defend himself. And if it was kill or be killed, Emilio knew which option he preferred.

“You decided,” he pointed out, looking back to Silas. “You’re the one who put him on my radar. Told me he was a bad man, told me he deserves to be taken out so that other people could be safe. So that you could be safe. I’m here doing what you asked me to do, kid. Nothing more, but nothing less, either. You might change your mind, but that’s not me. He’s right. You should step aside. Go home. You’ll be better off when this is over.”

—

Silas could finally feel the rage seething from Andreas when Emilio outed him—while he had obviously been the one to tip the slayer off, the cherry on top of the shit pie was said slayer telling his abuser that he’d basically admitted to being terrified of him.

If Andreas made it out of this alive, there would be hell to pay.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he insisted from his relatively safe distance. He couldn’t—he had to see how this ended. If Andreas killed Emilio, Silas had to know.

He stuffed a hand in his jacket pocket, hand closing around the pistol’s grip.

If Andreas won, Silas had to—

“Enough politics,” the older zombie hissed, breaking his train of thought. And just like that, it had begun. There was a flurry of movement as Andreas lunged for Emilio, taking great care to avoid the deadly blade in his hand. He was much more practiced in hand to hand combat than Silas, having had centuries to perfect it, and would prove a difficult foe for the slayer.

Meanwhile Silas, who was watching the fight with an intense feeling of dread, could not decide who he’d rather see die. No one, ideally, but that felt unlikely. Any time Emilio managed to get a wounding jab in with his blade, Silas sucked in a frightened breath. He couldn’t help but think about all Andreas had done for him; taking him in, loving him, giving him exactly what he’d been craving—a sense of belonging. A sense of purpose. Family. But then he would catch a glimpse of that bloodthirsty rage on the zombie’s face as he gnashed his teeth at Emilio, ready to tear him to shreds… All the things Milo and Aida had said to him would come rushing back, and he had to believe it was true. He had to. Milo wouldn’t lie to him, right? No, but maybe it wasn’t lying. Just because he was wrong didn’t mean he was lying, he just didn’t know any better. He’d never seen Andreas the way Silas had seen him, hell, he’d never even met the guy.

The battle continued, and still Silas couldn’t decide who to root for. He felt sick. He just wanted this over. Please, god, let it be over.

The absence of a pounding heart in his chest to match his level of anxiety was disturbing, making his head swim and his ears ring.

Please, just… someone, anyone, just—

—

Maybe it was a dick move, confirming that Silas was the one to tell Emilio where to find them. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it. Whatever was going on between Silas and Andreas, it was clearly more complicated than Silas had initially let on. But Emilio fully intended on killing Andreas here, anyway, so it didn’t matter in the long run what he knew and what he didn’t. Maybe the fury in his eyes would wake Silas up, remind him that he’d been afraid enough of this man to invite Emilio to take him out.

Or, maybe it wouldn’t.

Maybe Emilio would finish dealing with Andreas and be forced to deal with Silas, too. Or maybe Silas would kill him to save the man he’d been so afraid of, or maybe he’d kill Emilio after to avenge him. There were a lot of maybes here and, in the moment, not many of them mattered. Because Andreas was lunging at Emilio, and the only thing that mattered now was the fight.

Emilio dodged the first blow, slashing out with the knife and catching Andreas in the arm. It wouldn’t be enough to slow him down, and Emilio knew that. Hunters were at a disadvantage in most fights, because while it took a very specific method to kill most of the things they found themselves up against, hunters themselves were fairly easy to take out. All Andreas had to do was break the right bones, cut the right arteries, and Emilio would bleed out in this graveyard with no one but Silas knowing why. And if he wanted to stop that happening, he’d have to take off Andreas’s head.

It was easier said than done.

Emilio got in some damn good blows. A stab to the gut, a slice across the chest, knuckles bruising against ribs. But Andreas got in a few of his own, too. An elbow to the nose, a knee to the gut, a kick to Emilio’s bad leg the moment the weakness made itself known. Emilio had teethmarks in his shoulder, on his hand, in his arm. Some bled sluggishly, others were shallow enough only to bruise. They all hurt like hell anyway.

After what felt like ages, Emilio managed to gain the upper hand, He twisted Andreas’s arm and swept his legs out from underneath him, and the two stumbled together and fell with Emilio on top of the zombie, blade against his throat. Emilio flashed a bloody smile, pushing the blade down hard enough to draw blood. “Looks like I win,” he said. “I’d say better luck next time, but I don’t think there are going to be any more do-overs. End of the…”

There was a click behind him, quiet but familiar. The safety of a gun being switched off. Emilio froze, feeling Silas behind him. “Kid,” he said quietly, “you really don’t want to do this.”

—

“You’re right,” Silas croaked, holding the pistol with both hands as he aimed it at the back of Emilio’s head. “I don’t. So don’t make me.” Drawing a ragged, unnecessary breath, Silas sidestepped until he could see Andreas pinned beneath the slayer, who immediately met his gaze. He seemed as shocked as any of them, but gave the younger zombie a slow, affirming nod.

“There’s a good boy,” he muttered, letting his eyes flick back to glare up at the slayer that straddled him. His frown curled into a shit-eating grin, teeth bared viciously. “Looks like you spoke too soon, amigo.”

“Get up,” Silas barked, taking a step closer and moving so he could better see Emilio’s hands. “Drop the weapon and get up.” Once the slayer had done as he was told, he stared down the barrel of the gun, held by trembling hands.

“Go, get out of here,” came another command, this time directed at Andreas. His elder, while not overly fond of being bossed around, didn’t hesitate to pick himself up off the ground. Silas didn’t even look at him, his attention fixed solely on Emilio as he held him in place with the handgun. Andreas leaned in close, whispered something in Silas’ ear, and walked away like it was nothing more than a lazy Sunday afternoon stroll.

“Good meeting you, Emilio. May you find peace in the next life,” Andreas added flippantly as he disappeared into the darkness.

Silas waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard, the wall that was keeping in his immensely conflicted emotions cracking and crumbling more with every passing second. His brow was knitted, lips downturned in a pout as he fought the urge to cry, knowing no tears would come.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, though he did not lower the weapon. The apology sounded genuine in spite of this, and the zombie took a step backward. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-I couldn’t—you were gonna to kill him, I couldn’t let y-you do that.” He knew how asinine it sounded; he’d been the one to give Andreas up, after all, and here he was defending him. He couldn’t help it, it was instinct, at this point. Always protect Andreas. Never let anything happen to Andreas. The family is nothing without Andreas.

“This was a fuckin’ shit idea, I’m sorry, I fucked it all up, I don’t—” He continued to back up in the direction Andreas had gone, panic lacing his words. “I don’t know what happened, I—”

His shoulder bumped into a thin, scraggly tree, startling him from his mental loop. He blinked a few times, finally lowering the pistol. There was a pregnant pause, and the zombie looked ready to bolt.

“... should have let you fuckin’ kill me in that alley,” Silas groaned, as if realizing it for the first time. “I’m sorry, I’ll—I’ll figure this out. Sorry.” The last apology was delivered on a strong exhale as he turned and ran, abandoning their plan and perhaps his only chance to get out of this whole ordeal alive.

—

For a moment, Emilio didn’t move. His eyes burned into Andreas’s despite the gun at his head, his knuckles white around the grip of the knife in his hand. Then, Silas moved around to the side, gun flashing in Emilio’s peripheral, and he blew a frustrated exhale through his nose. His fingers loosened on the knife and he raised his hands, allowing the weapon to clatter to the ground as he lifted himself off Andreas.

On his feet now, Emilio finally tore his gaze away from Andreas to focus the glare on Silas instead, fire burning behind his eyes. “You’re gonna regret this, kid. You can trust me on that. Guys like that won’t change.” He tensed as Andreas spoke to him again, nostrils flaring. It took everything he had to stay rooted to the spot, to keep himself from diving for the knife and catching a bullet in the back. “The next life, huh? Yeah. You first.”

And then Andreas was gone, footsteps disappearing into the night, and Emilio was alone with Silas and a gun. His jaw twitched, anger barely contained as he stared passed the barrel in favor of looking Silas in the eye, glaring daggers. “You told me to kill him,” he reminded him. “Said you wanted to do what was right. This? This isn’t what’s right.”

For a moment, he wondered if Silas was actually going to shoot him. He probably ought to, all things considered. But Silas started stumbling back, the gun lowering as he moved, and Emilio let his hands drop. Emilio knew what was going to happen a beat before it did, took a faltered step forward just before Silas took off.

For a moment, Emilio paused. He could go after the kid, might even catch him in spite of his bad leg and the injuries sustained in his fight with Andreas. But then what? He still didn’t want to kill Silas, in spite of everything. And with how pissed he was right now…

Well. Anger management had never been his strong suit.

Sighing, Emilio watched the kid go until he disappeared, then turned back to retrieve his knife from where he’d dropped it. “Yeah,” he said to the empty cemetery. “We’ll try again later.” If he lived that long. Given his new position on Andreas’s shit list and the zombie’s apparent fondness for sending assassins after people who pissed him off, that was probably in question. “Fuck,” Emilio sighed, sheathing the knife.