My Brother’s Spare

I could never forget my mother’s touch.

Her swift hands, their movements gentle as they loosened the stubborn knots in my hair. The faint scent of lavender that lingered in the air whenever she was near.

And her warmth, one that filled every crevice in our vast estate.

I exhaled heavily as her fingers combed through my hair, tying the deep strands back with a silver ribbon. She secured a tight ponytail at the base of my neck.

“There.” I could hear the smile in her voice long before I turned to face her. “Beautiful.”

She was radiant, with eyes as deep and dark as the night sky, and a smile so bright even the sun stared down enviously. The Viscount’s jewel, people called her. A lady of noble birth, yet passionate enough to sympathize with even the weariest of outcasts. In the public eye, she existed as a soft-spoken woman, but her warmth extended past her blood, leading her to the outer neighborhoods of Nieve with warm food for the hungry and clean clothes for the bare.

A saint. A guardian angel for the poor and a voice for the forgotten.

I pressed up on my toes, moving to touch the dainty chain that hung at her neck. My thumb pressed against the simple flower charm that sat between her collarbones, tracing the ridges and dips of the petals as she pulled me into her lap.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” A breathy laugh slipped past her smiling lips.

I nodded, finally meeting her eyes.

Deep and knowing.

Her warm hands found mine, squeezing them faintly.

“V, are you finished yet?” whined my eight-year-old brother from his spot on the floor.

I slipped from my mother’s grip, turning to meet Victor’s excited gaze. He was my copy, the two of us sharing everything—from toys and clothes to our mother’s womb.

Twins! my father would exclaim every time he told the story. Out of all the surprising things I’ve come across in my lifetime, hearing that word takes first place.

Victor had spread himself out across the carpet, carefully placing the last piece of his toy track on the floor, connecting the twisting and turning trail into one large extension.

“The train.” He sat up quickly, pointing a finger to my right. “Grab it for me, will you?”

“I’m not your maid, Vic.” I sighed but bent down to grab the toy nonetheless. The pale fabric of my nightgown swished at my knees as I ran over to his spot on the floor. I handed the small mechanical trinket to him, watching the grin spread across his face.

“Of course you’re not,” he said, setting the train on its tracks. “You’re more like my butler.”

He burst out into a fit of giggles as I tackled him, trying to hide my own itching grin. I pinned him down face-first, easily holding his hands behind his back.

“Valeria,” my mother warned from her seat, but my smile only widened.

“No fair,” he mumbled into the carpet, turning his face to the side. “I wasn’t ready!”

“Please. I always win!” I snorted, releasing his arms and taking a seat at his right. He groaned, sitting up once again, but didn’t argue. He leaned over the track, one hand holding the bright red train in place while the other moved to wind up the key at its rear. I hugged my knees, watching his eyes light up as the train came to life, its small black wheels chugging their way down the dark tracks.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He beamed, deep blue eyes meeting my matching pair. Father had brought the train set home about a week ago, and Victor had been obsessed with it ever since.

“I don’t want to be Viscount,” my brother had announced a few nights prior. “I want to be a conductor!”

Father had laughed, a deep and comforting rumble, ruffling Victor’s hair. “I’m afraid you’ll have to manage both jobs, Victor.”

My brother pouted, whining about how he would much rather deal with trains than with criminals.

“You should have let your sister come out into the world first then.” Father grinned, his pale eyes meeting my own. “Viscountess Valeria.” He tucked a long strand of hair behind my ear. “How does that sound to you?”

“It’s a little late, isn’t it?” Our mother’s soft voice rang from her seat, her slender form standing elegantly from the deep velvet chair.

“Can’t we please wait for Papa?” I begged, batting my eyes at her. “We aren’t even tired yet, I promise!”

“Your father won’t be home for a while, darling. You know how busy he is.” She took my hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Maintaining peace isn’t easy work in the least.”

“Because of the fire, right Mom?” I asked her, my mother stiffening at the mention of the recent tragedy.

“Yes.” Her voice was just above a whisper, her eyes heavy with sorrow. “Especially after that disaster.”

She caught herself, pushing her sadness to the back of her mind, a small smile taking her lips as Victor groaned.

“But it’s barely past 10:00!” He sulked, playing with the hem of his nightshirt.

“Is it 10:00 already?” Her eyes widened, moving to the golden clock that sat above the fireplace.

I elbowed my brother in the side, and he instantly regretted his words.

“Goodness. To bed with you two.” Mother shook her head.

I stood quickly, eyes locking with Victor’s before bolting.

Victor was tight on my heels as we raced to the big wooden bed across the room. I jumped, squealing as I felt him slam into my side, hitting the soft mattress a mere second before me.

“I won, I won!” He grinned, and I pushed him off my back, panting as I smiled.

“Wretched cheater!”

“You just hate to lose!”

“How do you two have so much energy?” Our mother laughed, joining us on the massive bed. She noticed my small hands reaching for the glasses at our bedside, each filled halfway with warm milk. She lifted them easily and held them out.

“Thank you, Mom.” I murmured, bringing a glass to my lips, Victor grabbing his own. Mother smiled and lay down on her back. A tired sigh escaped her, her hand moving to touch her necklace as she stared up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before sitting up, her tender gaze moving to us once more. She leaned forward, pulling us into a tight embrace and peppering our heads with gentle kisses.

“Off to sleep now. You have an early morning tomorrow.”

“It’s a Wednesday, isn’t it?” Victor groaned, falling back onto his pillow. “Do we have to meet with Lady Rosenfield every week?”

“Mom, couldn’t we miss class just this once?” I pouted, sitting forward on my knees. “If I have to sit through one more piano lesson, I’ll dissolve into the wind!”

“Dramatic thing.” I crinkled my nose as she tapped it gently, soft laughter leaving her lips. “If you dislike it so, I won’t force you, but bear through one more class for me, alright?”

“For you,” I said reluctantly.

Victor let out a sigh, the exasperated sound morphing into laughter as our mother tickled his sides.

“Goodnight, my darlings.” She smiled as we scampered under the covers, pulling the soft duvet up to our chins. Then she stood, watching us with soft eyes. “I love you both.”

A few strands of dark hair had fallen out of her tightly pinned bun, framing her face like artwork. She moved to the nightstand at my right, blowing out the candle that flickered at our bedside.

“Love you, Mom!” Victor called out as she paused at the door, turning once more to smile at us. She shut the towering bedroom door behind her, the click echoing across the room.

I stared off into the darkness, the warm glow of the fireplace steadying my tired body and chasing the imaginary monsters away.

“Are you asleep yet, V?”

“Of course not,” I whispered, turning to face my brother. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” I felt him shift, snuggling himself deeper into the pillow.

“Papa.” I sighed, scratching at my cheek. “I wish he would rest more.”

“Me too.” Victor’s voice was softer now, his eyes fluttering shut. I turned to lie on my back once more.

Our father had always been a busy man, his tired figure stumbling the short distance to Nieve’s Imperial Station at the first rays of light, only to greet us with a tired smile well into the dark of night. He was the Viscount after all, the King’s authoritative hand and watchful eyes. The keeper of justice.

“Asleep already?” I whispered, my brother’s calm and even breaths being the only sound that filled the vast room.

“No.” He exhaled, eyes still closed. “Just thinking.”

I grinned, turning my back to his sleeping form. My eyes watched the fireplace. Every shade of orange seemed to spill into another, melting into it like molten gold. The fire burned steadily, strong enough to scare any lurking shadow away. I let my eyelids droop, feeling the heavy weight of sleep. I exhaled as Victor’s hand found the back of my nightgown, squeezing the fabric as he often would as he drifted off. Keeping me close. Making sure I was still here.

“Goodnight, Vic,” I whispered, shutting my tired eyes as sleep swallowed me whole.

“Goodnight, V.”

---

It wasn’t the bright light of morning through our bedroom window that woke me up, nor was it my mother’s soft voice as she nudged Victor and me awake.

No, it was the jolting sound of glass. Glass shattering into hundreds and thousands of pieces.

I sat upright, sleep still heavy in my blurry gaze. My eyes squeezed shut at the throbbing pain that ran beneath my skull, leaving the room unsteady. I squinted in an attempt to clear my vision, noticing the darkness of the room. The fire had burned out, leaving us cold and alone. It was far too early to be awake, and seeing the usually lively estate in the dead of night left me with an unreadable sense of dread. My hands hurriedly reached for my side, moving around until they touched Victor’s sleeping figure. A heavy breath slipped past my lips, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

A loud thump echoed from outside our bedroom door, my limbs stiffening once again.

“V,” Victor mumbled, shifting in his sleep. “What is—”

I clamped my hand over his mouth, his sleepy eyes now wide as they met mine. He sat up slowly, my hand slipping from his lips to sit in his shaky grip.

Something was wrong. The fear in the air shifted our bedroom floor, warning us that whatever lay beyond our bedroom’s dark wooden door was not simply stopping by for tea.

I pursed my lips, pulling Victor closer as I neared the bedside. I slipped from the mattress, my bare toes touching the cold floor. The room felt emptier without the fire, and somehow that frightened me more than the thought of something hiding in here with us.

“V, what is it?” he whispered in my ear.

“Something’s wrong.” My voice was barely audible in the deafening silence. “I heard a noise.”

“It must’ve been a maid.” His words shook, as if he was trying to convince himself more than me. “Please, let’s just wait for Mom or Papa.”

A horrifying shriek echoed throughout the house, and I winced as Victor’s grip on my hand became painful. His eyes met mine, pupils receding back into the safety of his deep blue irises. My heart hammered wildly in my chest as I forced my feet forward, inching closer to the door.

“V, wait,” he began again, eyes swimming with fear, but I squeezed his hand in mine, pulling him closer to my side.

“Just stay close to me.”

The door creaked open, and I bit my lip at the frigid chill that ran up my spine. The house was eerily dark. It must have been well into the night, only a few hours after Mother had tucked us in for the evening, and yet it was as though nobody had walked down those halls for months.

I swallowed my fear, relaxing my shoulders at the feeling of Victor’s trembling hand in mine. Everything is fine. It has to be. I turned back to look at my brother, tears barely contained by the edges of his eyes. For his sake if not my own.

We flew down the deep ebony steps like a pair of mice, our nimble feet barely making a sound as we reached the estate’s first floor. I whipped my head around, putting a shaky finger to my lips. Victor said nothing, his eyes focused on the wall behind me.

I took a tentative step forward.

The quiet was thick, aching, leaving my back sticky with sweat and my lungs heavy with unease.

I stopped, stiffening as I heard it. A thud, like the dull sound of a heavy book hitting the floor. Except it was followed by heightened whispers, ones much too sharp and hurried for this hour of night. A man’s rough voice barked out words into the silence, followed by the hurried whispers of a woman.

We treaded down the hall of the first floor, my vision blurring as we neared the flickering shadows that danced on the floor outside the common room. Victor dug his heels into the carpet, pulling me to a halt. I turned to him, mouth agape, but the fear in his eyes was enough to render me silent. He shook his head slightly before moving to point his shaky finger across the hall. I followed his gaze to my father’s study. My stomach dropped, a sick feeling filling it, as I backed into Victor’s chest.

The study door was open, my father’s coffee-stained cup from this morning still sitting untouched amongst his files, his fireplace unlit, and his coat hanger empty.

Father had yet to return home.

The sound of breaking glass startled us once more, our trembling arms moving to grip each other desperately. I swallowed, inching closer to the room, Victor attempting to pull me back toward the stairs. I didn’t budge, scooting alongside the wall until we stood right beside the common room’s entrance.

“Please.” My blood ran cold at my mother’s shaken voice. “You don’t have to do this!”

My hand moved unsteadily to my lips, afraid that the sound of my erratic breaths would give us away. My heart thumped in my chest, so harshly that I feared it would rip right through my ribs and fall out onto the floor in front of me.

“I won’t say a word, I swear! Just, please.” The hand over my face tightened at my mother’s quivering words. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me leave them behind.”

I doubled over, squeezing my hands over my ears as my head rang, the world moving in and out of focus around me. Victor’s quick hands caught me by the arms, pulling me into his steady grip. I gritted my teeth, my brother’s racing heart screaming in my ear as he held me tightly.

“V—”

I clamped my hand over his mouth as tightly as I could, forcing myself to straighten up.

“Wait, wait!” The voice pleaded, my heart stuttering.

I whipped my head around, staggering toward the door and peering around the edge. My grip on Victor’s hand became deadly, my brother stiffening in fear as I recoiled from the scene before me.

Until that singular moment in time, on the first floor of our home, right outside the common room’s doorway, I had never felt it. I had been afraid before, but this feeling—this pure terror—ran through my veins like ice, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing.

“What—”

I yanked Victor back before he could take another step, one hand clutching his and the other pressed over his eyes. He held his breath, palm sweating against mine as I looked around the corner once more.

The man was tall, almost monstrous, with the build of a boat merchant, heavyset and strong. His shoulders bent forward awkwardly, hunching over as he tilted his head. The mask he wore covered his entire face, leaving only two dark eyes exposed. The scruffy fabric was a deep gray, the lack of light making it blend into the rest of his face, darker streaks dragging along the space below his eyes, giving off the impression of a wild animal. Of a wolf.

But his nightmarish appearance wasn’t what frightened me.

It was my mother’s small frame in his grip, her beautiful eyes now wide and empty as a thin blade pressed against her throat. I stared unmoving, the sound being cut off from my world as my eyes bore into the image in front of me. Her silent mouth moved steadily as she spoke, her hands tense but her sharp eyes dry of any tears.

That was until she stilled, and turned her dark eyes hesitantly to the door. We stared at each other, my mother and I, both unmoving, both trapped in the horror of the moment. Her proud posture trembled and slumped, her expressionless face reducing itself to nothing in an instant. I wanted to run to her, to grab her hands and take her as far away from here as I possibly could. Instead, I froze, letting the frightened tears I’d been holding finally fall down my cheeks. My mother stumbled in the man’s grip, his strong arms holding her up as she cried out, a horrible sound echoing through the empty halls of the estate. Nausea clawed at my throat as he pulled her head back, pressing the knife securely to her throat, resting right above her silver chain.

My nails dug into my brother’s skin as the man moved the blade in one swift motion, slicing right through the soft skin of my mother’s throat. He held her up as she writhed, thick crimson blood running down her neck, staining her pale nightdress a violent red. His gloved hands pressed her face into his neck as she choked, her jerking movements slowly coming to a stop. Her stiff hands went limp, one last strangled whimper bubbling past her lips before her lungs emptied out. The man crouched down, placing her leaking body onto the bloodied floor carefully, as if to not wake her from her permanent slumber.

She looked like a doll—the porcelain kind that belong to toy shop windows—skin pale as the moonlight and eyes wide and glassy, so beautifully lifeless.

And the blood, the steady pool that inched across the common room floor, filled the air with the sickly sweet smell of death. The sticky liquid that coated her skin shone like melted wax, still oozing, still warm.

My hands fell limply to my sides, Victor’s eyes still glued shut beneath their ghostly grip. She’s dead. I staggered back, my knees weak. Dead, dead, she’s dead. I gripped my hair, pulling at the roots as the heavy feeling in my stomach clawed its way up my throat. Her heart stopped, the blood in her veins is now spilling across the floor, and the killer…

I brought a hand to my lips as I gagged, my horrified gaze moving from my mother’s corpse and meeting one darker than any moonless night.

The killer is still here.

I lunged for my brother, nails digging into his arm as I ran, my staggering limbs carrying us both as we stumbled down the main hall. My head ached, bile burning at the back of my throat at the image of my mother’s lifeless body. My mind had disconnected from everything but the ever-present sound of my pounding heart. I tripped over myself, slamming my side into the dining room table and hitting the ground with a hard thud. My vision blurred as the pain flooded through me, Victor grunting as he lifted the top half of my body, stumbling back at my dead weight.

There’s no way out—no way for us to outrun the murderer in this house. I forced myself upright, breathing hard as I tried to regain my footing. The room twisted around me, falling into itself as I tried to focus, moving quickly across the dining hall. I tightened my grip on Victor’s hand, dragging us toward the mahogany cupboard in the corner of the room. I swung the heavy door open, ducking my head in after Victor. He jammed himself inside, filling half of the bottom cupboard. My eyes fell shut, my feet giving out beneath me as I dropped to my knees, crawling into the open space beside him. I gritted my teeth, grabbing the edge of the open door and pulling it shut with all my might. I bit through my lip as the door clamped shut over my fingers, my hands pulling them away as they ached.

Victor caught my hands in his, squeezing them tightly to lessen the pain. My body screamed in silent agony, a blanket of sweat binding the thin fabric of my nightdress to me like a second skin.

My bones stiffened at the sound of it—the drag of heavy feet, unsteady and weighted, like a dead man walking. My head fell forward, hitting Victor’s arm as a wave of nausea spilled over me. Victor gripped my shoulders, holding me still, but it was no use. I wouldn’t last another moment.

“Victor.” I barely breathed, my clammy hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Victor, don’t let anyone in.” His grip on me tightened, my limbs finally giving out, falling over my trembling brother’s form. I didn’t want to close my eyes, to leave him there alone, but my body had taken over my mind now, pulling me under a veil of darkness. “Don’t…  Don’t say a word. Don’t let anyone find us.”

A few stray tears burned at the corners of my eyes, then ran down the sides of my face. My lungs stung with every inhale, as if the air were too thick for them to filter. My stomach convulsed and twisted violently, ripping itself apart as I tried to swallow what I had just seen. Somewhere in the dark, Victor’s hand reached for mine, trembling fingers lacing through my own as we sat tangled in each other’s arms.

Please…  I inhaled the blistering image of my mother’s bloodied body burning behind my eyelids as I slipped in and out of consciousness.

Please don’t find us.

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