Iscariot

What about all the broken Happy-Ever-Afters?

James pushed the screen door open and looked out over his back porch to the yard beyond. Standing in the open doorway, he considered his garden. The afternoon sun was bright, bees buzzing lazily in the warm summer breeze over the waving blooms. Their delicate floral scent hung in the air, telling him he was home.

Do you still tend the flowers in the garden, Raestrao?

James smothered the small sound in his throat as a sharp pain flared in his chest. It was a wound on the other side from his scar, one that went much deeper. One that would never heal. Lifting the wine bottle he held, he took a long swallow, hoping the red would eventually drown him enough to go numb. The first bottle hadn't but if he was anything, he was persistent.

Swaying, James staggered to the porch swing and clutched one of the chains, sitting with exaggerated care. He cautiously set the bottle between his polished shoes. Leaning over it, he dismissed his glasses and wiped his hands down his face. Rubbing at his bleary red eyes, he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head. Tears still hit the white wooden floorboards, his shoulders shaking in silence. His hands were empty, he saw through the blur as more drops fell. They were empty and so was he.

That morning...

"Erik!" Mika's scream cut through the house, startling James awake where he lay on the couch. Damien was already running, the others joining his brother as James tried to come to his senses and stand. Their shouts echoed strangely through the house once they made it upstairs, rushing into the bedroom well before him.

He struggled to run, his heart pounding in his ears, everything muffled but for those anxious beats. His brothers were yelling with Mika, but nothing was coherent as he pushed himself up the stairs. It was hard to catch his breath, but he made it, turning down the hall towards the master bedroom.

"No. No, no, no." Matthew was pale and shocked, shaking his head as he backed out of the doorway. He almost bumped into James before looking up at him in misery.

"What is it?" But James didn't wait, pushing past him into the chaos of the room.

"Zae!" Sam was roaring their brother's name. He was standing at the foot of the bed in just as much shock as Matthew, fists clenched as if to fight, struggling with what he was seeing.

Damien was on the far edge of the bed, holding Mika from behind, hugging her tightly as she cried, and not looking as she knelt on the bed, trying to wake Uzaeris. White stripes. White horns. White wings hung from Mika's back, startling James.

She's a demon. Uzaeris did it!

She took his breath away, until the full situation finally registered. Until James saw she was summoning her healing magic, pressing her hands against the chest of his brother lying beside her. Uzaeris, in his full incubus regalia, but his brother was unresponsive.

A wave of power crashed through the room as Mika cast a healing spell, the blinding white light causing his other brothers to look away. James held up a hand, trying to squint through the brilliance as she fought to save Erik. He rushed to the other side of the bed, gathering Uzaeris into his arms and trying to give what little healing he had left.

A strangled sob escaped James, echoing across the porch. His hands hurt and he forced his fists to uncurl, deep crescents welling with blood as his nails pulled from the skin of his palms. Shaking, he picked the bottle up and drank again. The alcohol coursed through him, dizzyingly so, but it still wouldn't numb the pain. The shouts of his family still echoed in his ears, pulling him back to the memory again.

"It's not working. Why isn't it working?!" Mika cried, her eyes blind as her mage sight showed her what was wrong within Erik.

From the corner of his eye, James saw Sam looking at the table. A golden tray lay atop it with two crystal glasses, one toppled on its side.