It had been almost a year since Serefin was murdered. For Jacob Frye, it felt like a minute - the longest, most brutal minute of his life. Like he'd been stuck in that minute right after he raced to Serefin's side and screamed for a healer. It felt like he'd never dig his way out of that minute, no matter how hard he tried. Tracking Serefin's killer should've been easy. His aura was burned into Jacob's mind. But by the time the smoke had cleared and Serefin was laid to rest, the city had fallen to Interitus so completely that tracking the witch had been impossible.
That hadn't stop Jacob from trying. There'd been a number of close calls while he dug for information over the months. Reckless moments where Jacob had nearly been captured or killed. The fact that he was still alive and free to follow this latest lead was strictly due to blind luck and a devoted twin.
This new piece of intel could very well be another dead end but the recent takedown of Geliara hadn't been any kind of secret. Interitus's cronies were proud of themselves now, particularly Vorerra. And the name Francis Eda was in the air.
Jacob crouched in the bushes outside Geliara, waiting. The encampment was too full to get to his target by rushing in but every cell in his body wanted to risk it anyway. He was twitchy, grinding his teeth. He hadn't slept.
"Come out, you little weasel prick," he whispered to himself. "Surely there must be some prideful boasting to make. Children to torture. Blood to drink."
The last year for Evie had involved a lot of Jacob-sitting. She didn’t like to call it that, because it was just what they did, they were there for each other. The last year had been the hardest in their lives, but Jacob had it so much worse, losing Serefin. It had left a hole that could not be filled by normal means.
Which left vengeance and revenge. Something they would have, Evie was certain of it. But properly carried out vengeance required careful planning, otherwise one would just get themselves killed.
As Jacob was so recently fond of trying to prove. She’d supported him and done copious amounts of legwork and research. They’d tracked for hours, days, weeks. She’d pulled Jacob out of numerous situations that might’ve left him just as dead as Serefin.
Now he was sneaking off without her, following up on a recent lead, and she could only just sigh. She did her own scouting first of the school, before she appeared silently at Jacob’s side, voice a mere whisper - but the annoyed tone was present. “You bloody shit. You were supposed to wait for me.”
Jacob startled, a blade half-drawn from a thigh holster by instinct. "For fuck's sake, Evie," he grumbled angrily. Where there once would have been childish complaining with a general easy going nature, now there was just sharp edges and bitterness. He loved his sister; that would never change. But her protection felt like leg irons.
Probably because he yearned to join Serefin as much as he yearned to avenge him. Not that he'd admit as much out loud.
"I am waiting, aren't I? I'm sitting here in a bloody bush instead of charging in there where I know that bastard is." Francis's aura lit up bright in his mind's eye in the middle of the school, but there were numerous other auras on all sides. He didn't risk the magic usage for long, which was likely how Evie got the drop on him. "I knew you'd catch up eventually."
Evie frowned, but kept it facing the camp and not Jacob. “Charging in would just get you killed.” Maybe that was his goal, but the idea of that hurt far too much, and Evie was far too selfish to let this be his end. He likely wouldn’t thank her for it, but it wasn’t thanks she needed.
What she needed was her brother, still alive, still at her side. She wasn’t entirely sure she could navigate this world without him, even if she had Sara.
“If you take the left, I’ll take the right. We should be able to quietly carve a path right to him, then he won’t be able to call for aid easily.” And you can take your time exacting revenge. Nothing quick and painless was offered here, not for Francis Eda.
"Maybe it would get me killed. But not before I killed him," Jacob vowed. He risked his eagle's eye again, more for the vicious need to stare at the aura of Serefin's killer and picture pulling him apart one limb at a time. He wasn't even entirely sure what he'd do once he got into a room with the bastard, but he knew it wouldn't be pretty and recognizing the bits leftover would present a challenge.
There was loud movement inside the school and a section of auras broke off, heading for the front exit. Francis wasn't among them.
"Some are clearing out. Less traffic by the time we get inside the grounds." He pointed towards a caved-in section of wrought iron gate nearby. "That way. We can split up once we get inside." It wasn't a question. In fact, he was already moving that way with ground eating strides.
“Jacob,” Evie wasn’t foolish enough to do more than growl his name out, both in frustration and in sympathy. It was a pang to the chest for him to even openly be accepting of a fate where he died and left her as an only sibling, but grief was it’s own beast.
So she followed. It wasn’t the first time he’d come up with a plan on the fly after Evie already had things mapped out. They’d done this so many times it easy practically child’s play to get up to the grounds, their steps silent as they moved together. Once in, Evie flattened herself against a wall and risked a quick glance with her eagle vision. To Jacob, she nodded. “East wing. He has two near him, meet back up with me at the chokepoint.”
She trusted he’d do just that as Evie left to move ahead, sticking to the dark corners and walls as she made her way through the school that had seen better days.
It felt like a race now. Probably because Jacob could hear the censure in his sister's tone. She had kept him alive this last year but at what cost? She was probably growing as weary of it as he was. But everything came down to this anyway. This one assassination. One he felt too much about. He could hear their father telling him that the job was supposed to be about a greater purpose and not about selfish revenge, but Jacob had always been a disappointment to his father.
He moved with speed, though. Precision. He carved a path where he needed to and barred exits where he could. He knew Evie would be doing the same. In fact, he came around the last corner and spotted her, moving even quieter than him. Before she could beat him to it, he raced forward and tackled the last guard between them and the office that held Francis's aura. It wasn't the quietest move, but he'd silenced the guard permanently - and messily - before any warning could give them away.
"You don't have to stay," he told her, cleaning off his assassin's blade. "He's the only one in there and it's not going to be pretty."
Evie didn’t budge. She also didn’t flinch or move away from him - this went exactly as she’d expected it would thus far, and had steeled herself to it. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jacob wasn’t doing this alone, no matter how determined he was to spare her from it. It would give her the added benefit of pulling Jacob away if he lost himself to the grief during this, as they’d had to do for each other a number of times since childhood. Sometimes, your hand just needed an extra nudge. Sometimes you had to let the weight rest on your person.
With a quick, quiet movement, she had the door unlocked and pushed open, but made no move to go in front of Jacob, preferring to stay and watch his back.
What came next was brutal. Jacob entered the room with speed. Francis caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye and turned, lifting his hands to cast a spell. Jacob pulled out his kukri and launched it, like a missile, lopping off one of Francis's hands in one clean stroke.
He'd been practicing. Getting the drop on a magic user wasn't easy, after all. Getting a drop on a blood magic user was even harder. Thankfully, Francis was the kind that still needed to gesture and he wasn't doing a lot of that while falling to his knees and screaming.
Jacob had every intention of cutting pieces off of Francis until he begged for death. But as he drove Serefin's killer to the ground and pinned him there by two daggers through the forearms, he felt his hands shake. This was what their father had warned against - taking life out of revenge. How it poisoned the mind and soul. Did he even have any soul left? He'd abused it to get here. To finish it.
Furious, scalding tears coursed down his cheeks. Carving up Francis Eda wouldn't bring Serefin back. But Jacob stabbed him quite a few times just to be sure.
By the fourth stab, Evie was there. It might have been a dangerous move to touch Jacob in this moment, but she felt confident in the fact that her brother wouldn’t turn on her, even in his rage. Her hand curved over the edge of his shoulder, and squeezed. “Jacob.”
She hadn’t planned on pulling him away or making him stop. It had been easy for their father to teach them not to give into revenge, but he’d done it his own way, hadn’t he? He always seemed to resent that his wife had died in childbirth with the two twins, and had never been much of a father to them. Ethan Frye had his revenge in his own way. So Jacob had earned his.
But seeing him lose control and watching as the blood slowly soaked into his leather as more of it grew and grew, Evie couldn’t stop herself from attempting to bring him back from the edge. “Jacob, it’s done.” With a nudge of her boot, she pushed the body of Francis Eda away from them and pulled her brother level with her so she could wrap her arms around him for a tight hug. “It’s done.”
Jacob's grip on the knife tightened at first, reflexively. But then Evie's voice broke through the fog and he let the knife clatter to the floor. He rolled slowly away from the body, and turned wide eyes up at her, seeking her face. He felt numb. Hollowed out. His face was still damp and he looked like he stepped out of a butcher's back room. He didn't spare a look at his clothes. He merely closed his eyes and clung to her back as she hugged him.
"I thought I'd feel something. Some kind of catharsis. Some bloody…relief." The word twisted brokenly past his lips. "But this hell is neverending." He buried his tear-stained face in her shoulder. There wasn't really time for this. People would come eventually. And as much as he didn't care about staying alive, he did care about not being the cause of Evie's death. He pulled back and stared at Francis for a long moment.
"Let's go," he whispered. "Before I change my mind and carve him up for his friends to find."
Evie didn’t want to make empty promises that it’d get better with time. Grief was an uphill battle, and she was determined to be on the other side of it for him. She didn’t let go until he pulled away, and she followed suit. Evie took half-second to snag the knife from the floor, and Jacob’s kukri was next. She wiped them before slotting the sword into it’s spot on Jacob’s hip.
The bastard didn’t deserve any requiescat in pace, and wouldn’t get it from her. She was just glad he was dead.
“I have a full bottle of booze at the bunker,” Evie risked a quick survey behind the walls to make sure no one had been alerted as they pushed through the doors the way they entered. “Let’s go drink until we pass out, yeah?”
Jacob was slow - in standing, in recognizing that she'd returned his kukri to him, in making his way to his door. He'd been running on the fumes of getting this done for so long that he was empty now. He leaned his shoulder against Evie's without thinking about it.
"Just the one? We might have to steal someone's moonshine and add it to the pile for that." He was glad she was here. Even if he didn't care about anything else anymore and each step felt heavier than the last, he would always care about Evie. He followed her out of the lion's den without looking back.