Twins of Another Kind: Emotionless Ties

Rhythmic beating, mechanical lights, electronic hums and silent whispers. The bloodiest of war rooms. The ER.

Brian’s temporary “fix” to his best friend’s current slaughter break.

It was far more thrilling watching people desperately save the life of an innocent, than to watch a murderer slowly die on the inside as his body was mutilated on the outside.

No one ever questioned his presence in the surgery viewing rooms. To the staff, he was simply another suit.

This visit, however, would be vastly different.

Her perfume filled the whole floor. A mixture of artificial raspberry and spice. Brian had informed her how awful her perfume was, many times, though she never listened.

Apparently, pregnancy had not deterred her from wearing it, either.

The murmurs got louder, then quieter again. No change.

Opening and closing his flip phone, Brian checked the clock once more, questioning why he was wasting his time here.

She already had the devoted husband, pacing outside as he watched his whole life teeter on her deathbed.

“Take responsibility,” were his mother’s words. She wanted him “to be there for them”. Brian did not understand why, they already had loving families of their own.

Of course, one cannot simply tell their own mother that she was wrong. That only formulated a response like, “Then, why did you plan to impregnate Kira and Ashley, Brian?”

And that kind of question led to Brian standing in the surgery viewing room, making sure his “mistake” did not cause further chaos, because god forbid he was ever allowed any fun without serious, detrimental consequences.

Even if it did go wrong, there was nothing he could do about it. He could not stop the surgeons from pulling the plug, or force them to keep working.

Brian was as useless as Evan right now. Opening his phone, he eyed the empty inbox, then closed it. There was the other option of dropping down two floors and visiting his spawn. A word Drake would use to describe them once he found out. And he would, everyone would.

Brian had not seen them, but the nurse’s station was full of gossip about the two little albino boys that looked nothing like their siblings’ fathers.

The murmurs slowly morphed to whispers, then small chatter, and Brian left the viewing room.

They were finally done.

Exiting out of the left door, Brian circled back around to the main entrance of the surgery, and paused just before he turned the corner, where the husband would be waiting.

“Evan Mitchells?” The surgeon called out.

“Yes, is Ashley alright? Please tell me she’s okay.”

“We were able to stabilize her. Her uterine wall ruptured and caused internal bleeding. Her body and bone structure were not designed to handle giving birth to twins. And with her twisted pelvis, I’m sorry, but she won’t be able to have anymore children.”

“Is she safe?” By the tone of Evan’s voice, it was safe to assume he had a hold of the surgeons shoulders, gripping them a little too tightly from his anxiety, while he tried to remain calm.

“Y-yes, she is stable for now. We will monitor her closely. But-”

“When can I see her?”

“We still need to do some tests, sir, and she needs her rest-”

‘“When can I see her. When can the children see her?”

“Please, go back to your room, I will have a nurse come get you when we have moved her out of the ER.”

Evan was reasonable. But, he would only return once he was able to see Ashley again.

Brian turned back down the corridor, away from the conversation. He had heard more than enough to know this was his fault.

Out the nearest window, and down two stories, Brian slipped into the sleeping patients room, silently.

Ashley would not be returned for another hour or two, and Evan would wait by her side patiently, before returning to his new children.

He stepped past the soundless Daywalker and Kitten’s hospital bed, to the two bassinets, as the room was much too small for any more, and glanced at the strange four half siblings with emotionless eyes.

The paperwork in Vincent’s lap stated that the oldest, his only son, was Aiden, which meant Kira’s porcelain doll was Asher.

Brian scooped up the albino infant in one arm, Evan’s nameless baby girl in the other, and switched their bassinets.

Brian did not possess a single paternal bone in his body. So it came as no surprise when he felt nothing, as he stared down at the two children he had selfishly bore. No emotion at all. No pride, no shame, no joy at the new life that carried his gene.

He thought of Evan, and his fear of losing his wife. Then, perhaps the anger he would carry against Brian for ruining the chance at him and Ashley ever having any more children. The pain that would kill him inside.

Just the thought of feeling Evan’s emotional pain was orgasmic.

That made Brian smile.

Ashley’s little babydoll, Ian, began to stir and wrinkle his face to one of her signature ugly frowns.

Brian would never understand what his mother wanted him to feel by coming here. Guilt was pointless, and making himself apart of these two spawns’ lives was out of the question.

Yet, he still smiled. He pulled a knife from his suit coat and pricked his finger. Then, he placed it against Ian’s lips, so the child would feed instead of cry.

The child latched immediately, his half vampire side shining through from birth.

Perhaps there was some form of entertainment he could derive from these two hatchlings, after all. Of course, nothing even close to parental guidance. But, there would certainly be much chaos in their lives, Brian would see to that.

“Shh, there’s no need to wale. Daddy’s here now.”


Twins of Another Kind: Should Have Known

As for Evan, there was no “memory” of a conception date, rather a cruel nightmare that lingered in the back of his mind of the time Ashley cheated on him, for the last time. But, the moment was buried and never once surfaced as he stared into Ian’s tiny tired eyes.

HIS beautiful baby boy, whether the child looked like him or not, had nothing to do that night.

It had barely been a month into their marriage, and yet…

He should have known that this would have happened.

But, Evan chose to believe the oblivious side of his brain when his phone began to ring. He set his wrench down and reached for his pocket as the phone slipped out and slid onto the floor.

Evan slid out from under the car and sat up. Picking up his phone, he looked at the name on the screen. It was Ashley. She had run out of the house a few hours earlier, yelling about some meeting she had to be at. The woman had given him specific instructions NOT to call.

“Hey, Ashley,” he answered it, with a smile. Evan did not really care why she was calling, it just made him happy to hear from her.

“I need you to come get me.” Ashley’s voice was flat and direct. “I’m at the Hillside Inn. The one on Fiftieth Street.”

“Um, sure. Is everything okay?” he was already getting up and grabbing the truck keys off of the work table.

Ashley had not been to work in the last few weeks. Since they had gotten married. Ashley’s reasoning was that she was starting a family now, and she could not work if she had to worry about taking care of Evan all the time. He should have known something was wrong. No. He should have stopped her from leaving, or at least gone with her.

“Just come get me, okay?” her voice turned to anger quickly, “I don’t want to wait forever.”

Crap. She was angry. And that was very, very bad. “I’m on my way.” He grabbed a coat for her and locked the house up, heading to his truck quickly. “Do you want to tell me what is wrong while I drive?” He got in the vehicle and started it, backing up. He was not going to waste any time.

“Nothing’s wrong, just come get me!” And with that, the line went dead.

Evan floored it. He traveled down the freeway, hoping he would not pass by any cops as the needle on the speedometer crawled over the numbers. It steadied out at around eighty. He drove until he pulled up in front of the hotel, only slowing down when he had to stop. He opened the door from the inside so she could just hop in and they could leave.

Gripping her bare arms, the girl stepped up into the truck, and slammed the door. She placed her seat belt over her lap and pulled her knees up to her chest, slipping her heels off. The hem of her sun dress was pulled down over her legs as Ashley shivered. Her skin was dry, but her hair was wet, and the water dripped down her bare back. “… Thanks…” Her voice was small, almost nonexistent.

And in the palm of her hand, she held her mother’s arachnid pendant up, so it reflected the few lights that were on outside. She had not had it for the past few days. Ashley always made up the excuse that it was put away, or she did not want it getting dirty, and Evan had just listened. Although, why he had done that was a mystery to him. Up until it disappeared, she clung to it for dear life. The young woman had even worn it on their wedding day.

The pendant always meant one thing. Ashley had gone to see Brian.

Evan did not say a word as he drove. He was angry. Not at her, but at the man who could never seem to keep his fingers off the woman Evan loved so dearly. His jaw was a little tight, his grip on the steering wheel too hard. He took the long way home, giving himself time to try and calm down. But, nothing helped.

Pulling up in front of the house, he parked in the driveway. Evan got out and opened the passenger door for Ashley, the silence almost deafening.

She had kept her gaze forward, and away from him throughout the car ride. But, he could see the tears now, from where he stood.

She wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath, still staring forward. “Y-you’re just… going to have to wait for me to get over him.”

He did not know what had happened between the two, but with Brian, one did not have to let their mind wander far before they knew. And Evan stopped his before it even started.

Maybe, just maybe, it was too much to ask of Brian to leave them alone. Perhaps, Evan was wrong to assume that Ashley would stop going to Brian after they got married. Was it really too much to ask for her to stop? Just to stop cheating on him?

The girl had always been different, and she understood cheating in a different way. He always forgave her. No matter how bad it was, he was a sucker, and he forgave her.

Evan was not stupid enough to dilute his mind with the idea that this was solely Brian’s fault. He held his hand out for her, his heart breaking. It did not matter how much he fought for her, he never seemed to win.

Ashley took it and stepped down onto the concrete with her bare feet. She held her shoes in the other hand and followed him to the door.

He did not let go of her hand, and once they were inside, he did the first thing that came to him. Evan pulled her to him and held her. He would not let her go. He could not hold onto any hate, or fear, when it came to her. He closed his eyes, refusing to admit to what he felt inside.

Ashley dropped her shoes, and jumped onto his waist, knocking him down and pinning him against the carpet in the hallway. “Okay, I’m over him.”

Ashley had made everything right that night, and they never once looked back.

And when Evan looked at Ian, he saw only her, and not Brian Scarla.

“You’re going to be just as wild as your mother, aren’t you,” he smiled at Ian as the tiny thing tried sucking on his finger. “We should get back to your mother now, she’ll be waking up with your baby sister, soon-”

“Excuse me, sir. Are you Ashley Mitchells husband?” Evan was interrupted by a doctor rushing up to him.

“Um, Yeah, is everything alright?” Evan glanced behind him when an alarm went off above their room.

“Um, your wife is-”

“What? What’s wrong with Ashley?” Evan did not wait to hear what the man had to say. Holding Ian close, he pushed passed the door and rushed to their room, “Ashley!”

He was stopped by the backs of doctors, hearing their orders as they surrounded her bed. Someone said “Seizing,” and Evan pushed on one of them. “What’s going on. Is my wife okay?” He could not see her, or their baby girl.

“Sir, please, we need you to step back.”

“That’s my wife, whats going on!”

“Her stats are dropping. Please, we need to get her up to surgery.”

“What happened? When I left, she was fine!”

“Sir, please!” Then, little Ian started crying.

Vampire’s Assistant

There was blood on the walls in the bathroom. There was always blood on the walls in the bathroom. I should have known he would be here, feeding again. It was one of those days. I had felt it this morning, leaving the house without a grunt of protest from him.

The blood was smeared across the tiles in a raged mess.

The smeared mess glistened from the dim, florescent light.

I walked over to the sink to wash my hands, feeling the sick nausea sweeping over my body once again. Scrubbing them clean from the grime that was about to dirty them, I listened and waited as the last stall door creaked.

Drenched shoes stepped along the pale floor.

I could see him in the mirror as his body came into view. The grin in his eyes was red.

“Sophia.” Chilling, icy, he pressed his black soul to my back each and every moment he locked eyes with me.

“You made it just in time.”

I spoke no words in response. I just washed my hands, scrubbing them.

I knew what he was going to say. I always knew exactly what he was going to say. And he always spoke the exact same frosted rhythm when he did so.

In his reflection, dark, soaked clothing sloshed silently from his slight movements.

“Get me my clothes,” he demanded, softly, but his eyes looked down and the tall man pulled slightly at his cuff-links.

The duffel bag slid from my shoulders and fell to the floor when I dried my hands. Kneeling, I unzipped the sports bag that held items belonging to no sport in particular, and pulled from the large case, a set of neatly folded, top of the line name brand threads.

Ripping the clothes from my palms, he changed. The dirty ones dropped to the water tracks on the tiled floor.

Picking them up, they were folded neatly and placed back into the open duffel, non-sports bag.

He stepped closer, looking down upon my form. “Sophia.” I knew what came next.

At least, I thought I did. This time, this one time, he paused. Placing a hand to my cheek, he tilted my chin up. “You don’t look good,” Gabe almost sounded concerned.

On command, I stood. He pressed his mouth against mine so I could taste the blood of his victims. I did not like the blood. I did not want the blood.

He had saved it just for me. I swallowed the blood and turned my head away, to wipe was left from my lips with the sleep of my coat.

When he pulled away, he ordered me once more, “Clean this mess up.”

There was no nod, nor verbal acknowledgement that I understood him, as I knelt back down in front of the duffel and removed rolls of towels, disinfectant and trash bags to do as he had asked.

When I rose to my feet again, he was gone. Either back to the manor, or to continue his pursuit of the older female students, I never knew which.

I made my way to the back of the stalls, eventually, counting the seconds I was in the bathroom while I scrubbed the blood away. More than fifteen minutes, and the teacher would send another student in to make sure I was not skipping. That I had learned from experience.

The was no body at the end of the blood trail. There never was. Gabe never uttered a word of his victims, and I never asked.

I would see one or two roaming the hall a few days later, dazed and oblivious to where they received the bite marks that hid under the small bandages they wore. I never knew them before the feeding and I would never forget them after the mess. I was sure Gabe planned his attacks around strangers in the school, so as to not distract me from my studies.

It was not like I really had any friends for him to target to begin with.

The soaked towels went into the trash bag, the trash bag into my duffel, and my duffel over my shoulders as I went back to the sink to scrub my hands again. I had to be careful, blood had a tendency to stain.

Then, I left the bathroom to head back to class, before my fifteen minutes were up.

Twins of Another Kind: The Last Time

For Vincent, the date of conception had been burned into his memory so deeply, that he would never forget it.

It had been nearly a month since their honeymoon, and he had been so busy with work, that Vincent and Kira had hardly spent any time together.

‘Uinseann.’ Vincent heard Kira’s voice echo through his mind as he began to dig his way out of the paperwork that had been piled on his desk throughout the day. Some of it had procured from the office girls whom were too eager to get off early, and had pleaded with him to turn their paperwork in, instead. Most of it came from the King himself, which included his majesty’s daily paperwork he pushed off onto Vincent, and the leftover paperwork that the King had procrastinated in giving to his assistant from the week before.

And audits were due this week, as well.

‘Yes, Kira.’ Her sweet, soft tone brought a small, relaxed smile to his features. Closing his eyes for a moment, he replayed the foreign nickname she had given him, enjoying her beautiful voice. It took him from his desk for a minute or so, and off to a place where only she existed.

Sometimes, it was not enough to just be married to her.

‘What would you like for dinner?’ Pondering on her question, he pushed aside the idea of responding with his normal answer. For once, he found it cliché.

‘Steak?’ he asked, hesitant. Kira was vegan, aside from the small amount of cheese and yogurt she consumed every once in a while, due to her inability to digest animal products. When it came to preparing meat, she did not always deliver the best results. Although, Vincent would argue that a hot meal every night was ten times better than the take-out he used to consume from his bachelor days.

Kira’s cooking, or not.

‘Will you be coming home late?’ That was now the most common question she asked him, since summer was coming to an end.

‘I’m afraid so,’ was his usual response. He had stopped trying to explain why he would be late. Kira got lost during his technical, paperwork explanations, and he had started to feel as though he was making excuses as to why he was not home on time. Vincent was thankful she never accused him of cheating. She was not that type of woman.

‘Okay. Would you like anything else with the steak?’ A glass of wine came to mind, but he was avoiding any type of alcohol after work. It forced him to break the habit of having a glass or two when he had a bad or long day at work.

Kira’s father was a drunk. Not an abusive one, but enough of a drunk for her to not like the smell of it.

‘Anything, really.’ Opening his eyes, he realized he needed to get back to work.

‘Okay.’ She never bothered him more than she needed to, which was nice when he was extremely busy. ‘Have a good day.’

Vincent smiled. ‘I love you, Kira.’

He did not wait for a response, getting back to his paperwork. He never asked what Kira did during the day, since she did not work, and he really never knew. With that knowledge, he was not surprised when she did not answer. She was busy, as he was, and he would leave her be.

His telepathy quieted for him to focus on his work for the next five or six hours.

By the time nine came around, he began packing up his things, and collecting the mail that would need to be dropped off at the post office before returning home.

He packed up his briefcase, slipped on his coat and locked up the office. The janitor would not be in for another hour or two, if he remembered correctly.

It was a twenty minute ride to the post office, and another thirty minutes home. By the time Vincent unlocked the door to his apartment, it was after ten.

He reset the alarm, hung up his coat, put his briefcase away, and headed over to the coffee table. The laptop was where he had left it, and the printouts of houses for sale for Kira to look over were still untouched. He could smell the steak in the oven, still warm from when his wife had made it. However, the apartment was empty.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and paused before calling her. A small gut feeling began to grow inside, and he turned to sit on the couch. Dinner would come later, when Kira returned. He propped his feet up on the table and pulled his computer over his lap, opening it up. The endless tabs of houses he had been browsing through still cluttered his screen, and he began flipping through them.

The minutes crawled by slowly, and Vincent found himself reverting to his paperwork, actually finishing it. After paperwork, he put his computer away, and pulled out his rifle, slowly fiddling with it.

Two O’clock was years away, and it was announced when Kira opened the screen door to their balcony, back from whatever endeavor she had traveled off to. When Vincent looked up at her, he smiled, her soft creamy skin glowing against the black background of the night sky.

In a soft, salmon blouse and creamy skirt, Kira shivered. Her long red hair, which was braided down to her waist and tied in a black ribbon, was completely soaked with water. “Uinseann.” She breathed, her soft lips closer to an icy blue.

The black ribbon was the only remnant left of her mother that she possessed. And she had not worn it in weeks. Just after they had gotten married, to be exact. It was the only physical material that she never parted with. Unless it was taken.

Taking things was always Brian’s M.O.

“Kira.” He jumped up and rushed over to her, bringing his arms around her shoulders and taking her in to lean against his chest. The instant he touched her, he knew. It was not the smell of her hair, or the feeling of her skin. Or even her silent posture.

Vincent knew. Kira had been with Brian. Vampires had always left their mark on their prey, and Brian was no different.

“Did you eat?” Her voice was a little more than a whisper. Kira’s voice had always been soft, but this was quiet, even for her.

Slowly, he combed his fingers through her hair, his eyes staring back at himself from the reflection of the balcony glass doors. “No, I was waiting for you.” He knew that something was wrong, and the more she talked, the more he knew that she knew something was wrong, as well. Kira was actually talking to him, physically, not telepathically. And she only spoke when she had something important to say.

“You should eat, Uinseann.” She slowly pulled away and took his hand, leading him to the table. Once again, she was trying to make sure he was cared for, regardless of what her news could do.

“Kira.” Vincent did not move. He pulled back on her hand, not letting her go. His strength was much greater than hers and it was easy to pull her back to face him. “Tell me what happened.” His voice was soft, and stern. It was clear that he was not going to drop it.

Kira met his eyes, her blue ones the same hue as the night sky before it began to turn purple with dawn’s approach. The color they turned when she was miserable.  “I kept my promise, Uinseann. I do not think I will see Brian again.”

She kept her…? Of course he would.

Brian had convinced her to promise him.

No. Kira had promised to give herself to Brian. Looking down in her eyes, Vincent knew that it was never going to stop, unless she stopped. “Kira.” He would not explain to her what she had done wrong. The girl knew herself. Lifting her chin up, he brushed her cheek with his thumb, and then her lips. “Promise me you will never see him again, Kira. Ever.”

His tone was strict, something he never used when speaking to her. It was commanding, and dominating, and he did not care. He wanted her. And he wanted Brian out of the picture, for good. The only way to do that was for her to stop seeing him.

Kira looked surprised at his tone and request. “Vincent…” His name. She had used his name. “I don’t understand… You told me I could keep my promises. Why are you so angry?”

“You know why I’m angry, Kira.”

“But you knew, Vincent. I asked you before I said yes to being your girlfriend. And I asked you again when you asked me to marry you. You should not be angry if you knew.”

“You never told me what your promise was, Kira.” If it had been a year ago, he would have allowed her ignorance to pass as truth. But, he could see in her eyes that she understood. “Promise me, you will never go to him again, Kira.” He was being demanding, but he had to be.

“You never asked.” She stared up at him. She felt the guilt. She did not know why. Maybe it was because she knew that this would hurt him, and she hated seeing him unhappy. She kept silent for a moment, watching him, and trying to understand her own feelings. Finally, she looked away. “I promise, Vincent…” Her words were hardly above a breath.

He brushed his thumb under her eye, expecting a tear to be there. It was dry. He smiled, but only slightly. “Thank you, Kira.” Leaning down, he kissed her softly. He would prepare a nice hot cup of tea and bundle her up in blankets to chase the chill away. Vincent would make sure that Kira never regretted her decision.

Gliding his hand down to her waist, he gently took ahold of the end of her braid, and held the ribbon within his grasp. Now, it was truly over.

… At least, he had believed that, up until he held his newborn. Smoothing the white filaments along Asher’s little head, Vincent leaned back as he rocked the child gently. Brian had so cleverly woven himself within their lives, leaving his mark like bleach stain on their children.

The younger male had broken the only rule he followed in his code of women. No adultery. Vincent still should not have been surprised. It was Kira and Ashley; the two Brian could not get enough of.

He pushed the shock away, and settled his mind in a state of content. He would make Brian pay, in a way the younger man would not be able to handle, emotionally.

Brian had left something behind with Kira, and Vincent would make sure Brian never got it back. Asher was his and Vincent would show Brian how happy Asher would be with him, forcing Brian to watch from the outside, looking in.

And he would make Brian regret ever messing with his wife.


Previous – Twins of Another Kind

Twins of Another Kind

Sitting in the lobby, the older male rocked the new born silently, his eyes closed and a tired smile placed upon his features, as his bride rested in the other room. Despite coming into this world only a few hours earlier, the new born had wide eyes that held a silent wonder.

Eyes that were like his father’s.

Vincent could not help but smile. And yet, he hurt on the inside. No matter how many times he tried to push the thought away, or wish to wake up from this dream, when he opened his eyes, the problem still stared him in the face, with such curiosity.

Vincent’s own eyes were a simple brown that held knowledge and wisdom. This child’s eye color was lighter blue, like his mothers. But, the form, and curiosity within it, belonged to his biological father.

His own hair, long and raven, bound by a hair band against his neck, was not the same type and color of the baby who he held. No, this one’s hair was light, almost clear, just like his father’s.

Vincent closed his eyes again, that pain hurting deep inside of him. He could not change this child, nor could he stand to be hateful of the situation.

He held the child of another man. The child his wife gave birth to.

It burned on the inside. His body trembled. He knew the man well. Very well. His own student.

Yet, there was no hate, and no question as to why. He knew the answer. And when he opened his eyes again, to look down at the new born, there was no worry either.

He would raise the child, and love the boy as his own. He knew he had no other choice; however he still wanted to raise the child.

Hearing the small whispering of another, Vincent’s eyes looked up, and across from where he sat, at Evan. The younger male held a new born as well, the twin of his own child.

Kira and Ashley; best friends who could have been sisters. His and Evan’s wives had given birth to two little boys, that were not their own.

“Evan, if you-”

“No, it’s cool,” Evan looked up. His eyes looked less painful, and more understanding. “I want to.” There was a difference in the way both Vincent and Evan viewed the father of their new children. Whereas Vincent cared for the male he had known for so long, Evan wanted to kill him.

Vincent gave a soft smile, and that pain inside seemed to fade. Evan did not have that pain. There was no hate, or no strain. Evan loved the child, perhaps a lot easier than Vincent ever would. He looked back at his own bundle of joy. Yes, he would.

People would know. It would be hard to hide, with the way both children looked. He rocked the one in his hands, still thinking of a name. He would train the child well, and tell him all about his father.

Would… would the father ever come around to see his two boys?

Vincent looked at the new born again. Perhaps. However… The ‘father’ had not been present in their lives for at least nine months…


Looking up, he glanced at the other male. Ian?

“I’ll name him Ian.”

He smiled. Evan simply accepted it, without question. With a small chuckle, Vincent looked at his own child, the child that was not his, but was, and kissed him on the forehead. “Asher.”

Evan smiled from across the room. Standing, the younger, light haired male moved over to where Vincent was and sat down next to him, holding his own child, but not his, up next to the brother. “Ian and Asher,” he spoke.

Vincent chuckled again. Yes, they were going to raise the children of a man who they both disliked greatly. A man who had loved, and owned both of the women they were now with. A man who they were greatly indebted to for pairing them with his girls. And a man who had given up the ones he loved so that Kira and Ashley could have a better life.

Vincent glanced at Evan. Had they really won the girls if they gave birth to his children? Evan gave a small smile.

There was only one explanation to what had happened. One sentence, two words: Brian Scarla.

Twins of Another Kind: The Last Time – Next