Chapter Text
“Did you know that crows can memorize faces so well they can pass the memory down to their grandchildren?” Shilo whipped his head up from his book with a beaming smile before looking back down, “then their grand-grandchildren and so on?”
Arthur, looked away from the tv and back at the prince before humming in acknowledgement, “yes. I recall an old friend who had to move out of town because the crows wouldn’t stop attacking them,“ He stretched out a wing, letting the feathers spread before tucking it back behind him, “All they did was step too close to one of their nests,”
“Interesting,” Shilo lifted his pen to write notes onto the book, a practice he was unfamiliar with since all the books he owned in the castle actually belonged to his mother or the library, “So they hold grudges,”
The room fell into silence, decorated with the sounds of pages flipping, pen scratching on paper, and the history documentary Arthur had playing on the tv. Shilo leaned on one end of the couch, knees curled up in front of him to support “The Sibley Guide to the Birds of North America”. Arthur sat on the other end with his arm draped over the back of the couch and Void curled up on his lap.
Two were missing — Shilo always noticed the lacking faces. Emeziel was busy running the Dangs with Theo and Grefgore was living out the American dream. Shilo was happy they’re happy, though he missed them, of course. No matter, they still visited at least thrice a week.
In the margins of the book, Shilo doodled a cardinal and a hawk.
A loud honk interrupted the peace of the small living room and before Shilo could even look up in alarm, he was met with a face full of feathers. Pickles pulled at Shilo’s ears while smacking her wings about and Shilo could do nothing but yelp and try to fight her off, his book and pen thrown clumsily to the side.
“Agh! Okay okay, I get it!” Shilo wrapped his hand around Pickles’ beak and used his other arm to pin her flapping wings to her body, which seemed to calm the pheasant down — or at least satisfy her violent desires.
“Sassy pheasant,” Shilo huffed with a frown, his ears downturning.
Arthur raised a brow as Shilo got up with the pheasant still cradled in his arms, “what does the bird want this time?”
“I think she's hungry. I’m gonna go take her on a walk,” Shilo walked over and reached up to unhook a harness and leash from the door.
The harness was green and bedazzled with glitter and rhinestones of all sorts. Shilo had noticed the harness from the outside of a pet store and much like a dragon to treasure, he asked Grefgore to smash the window for him.
Pickles stayed still as Shilo secured the harness under her wings and clipped the leash onto the metal ring, ruffling her feathers in slight discomfort.
As Shilo opened the door, Arthur called out, “Come back soon, the sun is about to rise,”
Fair enough, the sky was a dark purple-ish grey; Shilo reckoned he had 45 minutes which was plenty enough time. He gave the older vampire a thumbs up before setting off with Pickles pulling at the leash like a bloodhound tracking its next game. Overhead, a raven cried as it circled the apartment once more.
Shilo allowed Pickles to pull him around street corners until they found themselves in front of a motel. Pickles flapped her wings before ruffling her feathers once more.
“You wanna eat here?”
Pickles honked once.
“Okayy,” Shilo clicked his teeth, brows furrowing in thought when the realization hit him: he’s never hunted without the other two before. Though he supposed Arthur had always wanted him to be less dependent, he can only try his best.
“I don't know how I’m going to find people,” Shilo explained to Pickles, twisting the handle of the leash around his fingers, “I can't do the hearing thing that Arthur does, or the sniffy thing that Emeziel does,”
Pickles nipped his finger.
“Ow! I’m sorry, okay? Here, let's just..” Shilo went towards the first window he could find with a slight crack in the curtains and peered in. Pickles lifted her head above the window sill from under the vampire.
The room was empty and had a weird feeling to it, one similar to the description of a ‘gut feeling’ that Emeziel had told him about before: sinking feeling in the stomach, tightness in the chest, unease.
Shilo pulled away from the window, his grip on Pickles’ leash now tighter.
“No one in there,” Shilo mumbled, glancing at the window one more time.
Pickles squawked in disappointment.
Shilo sighed, “I know, I know. Come on,” he turned to another room and pulled at the leash.
The leash didn't budge, Shilo tugged once more before turning back around with an eyebrow raised.
Pickles had frozen in her steps, neck craned high and staring at an empty space somewhere at the parking lot. Her blood red eyes were wide and her pupils the size of pins. Shilo’s eyes flicked over the pheasant, completely clueless to what could have caused her shock.
Suddenly, Pickles flapped her wings in a panic and ran. Despite his tight grip on the leash, the fabric tore out of his fingers and trailed behind Pickles as she fled towards the street — away from whatever spooked her.
“Wh- Pickles! Where are you- Come back!” Shilo reached out a hand in an attempt to grab the leash end before running after the pheasant, who was far faster than him.
“Ohhh craaapppp,” Shilo grumbled as the wind whipped through his slicked back hair.
Right as Pickles disappeared around a corner, blood rushed through Shilo’s ears and a satisfying warmth gathered around his legs, allowing him to catch up to Pickles much faster.
Closing the gap, Shilo reached out towards the leash again before Pickles made a sharp turn into an alley. Shilo, unfortunately, is neither as quick nor as agile as the bird. His ankles twisted to turn as well but instead he crashed into the ground.
The moment Shilo was able to push himself off the floor, he turned into the alley. The crash and the chase whipped his hair into a mess that resembled a bird's nest.
“Pickles!”
Pickles was at the end of the alleyway, standing on a pile of cans and looking up above Shilo with her eyes as wide as before - maybe even wider but Shilo wasn’t close enough to tell. The sky was now a vibrant purple with some orange beginning to show and the concrete of the alley walls were turning brown.
Shilo brushed a clump of hair from his face before approaching the pheasant with a hand outstretched, “Pickles, what happened? Why did you run off like that?”
No response.
“I’ve told you not to-”
Sharp pain exploded in Shilo’s heart and turned his vision white. Instantly, his bones were rendered useless as he collapsed onto the ground. Not even his voice was working, he couldn’t call for help.
A tall shadow covered Shilo and the figure chuckled huskily. Shilo could only widen his eyes, his punctured heart dropping to his stomach. He’s only ever heard the chuckle in his darkest dreams.
Shilo felt a hand grip the back of his skull — sharpened nails digging into his scalp — and exhaustion overcame him. As his vision darkened, a horridly sultry voice was the last thing that echoed in his head.
“Sweet dreams, baby bird,”