A/N As you can tell I'm super pumped to write Blood Relative once I'm finished with Veil Of Lies, so yes, I may publish more one shots for it as I am certainly writing them! This one shot that takes place in the BR universe, but this protagonist isn't in the main story (neither is her bro). However, the other three are, so keep an eye out ;)

Every day, every hour, every moment, maybe every single second, someone takes their first breath and someone takes their last.
It's terrifying, and somehow it's beautiful too. This is the balance of our world.

On this particular evening, a middle-aged woman named Margaret Nikolov am
bled through the drizzling rain, unknowingly towards her own death.

'Woman' is debatable, while Margaret was a woman she certainly wasn't a human woman.
See, the fabled boogieman is not just one man; at all times, there are exactly a thousand in the world, balanced by their brethren's births and deaths. Margaret was one such creature.

Most boogiemen don't know the limits of their powers, nor could they ever comprehend. They can see that they are...different, but who on Earth would believe themselves to be a bedtime story incarnate? Why, that's absolutely insane and vocalizing it would send you to an asylum without question.

So yes, Margaret knew she was a freak, knew she liked the cool space under beds and in closets more than sunlight and warmth, but she was just going to live like anyone else would. Not all freaks are heroes. Some are just freaks trying to get by.

Margaret glared at the sun, which revealed itself as the rain stopped, as if staring it down with such disdain would cause it to quiver back behind the clouds.

It caused a slight sting on particularly bright days, Margaret's dark skin had begun to pale as she went outside less and less.

Longing for the cozy blanket of nighttime, Margaret dipped into an alleyway, where a roof cast a comforting shadow onto the pavement.

The woman sank down the wall so she was sitting and closed her tired gray eyes, focusing in on the quiet sounds of the alleyway. Enhanced hearing kept her up some nights, but testing her limits was something she had learned to find tranquility in.
There was water dripping from pipes onto the uneven ground, distant cars whizzed by, rats scampered and chattered. Margaret wondered what rats would ever talk about.

Ah, they'd sound an awful lot like her brother, who hadn't matured since they last met face to face, now his hair was beginning to gray as hers had years ago, and he remained in her small, cozy home, waiting for the tension with his fiancé to blow over.

A new sound revealed itself, rattling through Margaret's ears.
It was the growl of a dog.

Margaret's eyes snapped open just as a huge rottweiler lunged at her, howling and snapping its jaws inches away from her face.

Its apparent owner tugged back on the leash. "Heel!" He snapped.
The dog listened, if she were that dog, Margaret would have done the same.

This owner was a man with a very commanding presence, broad shouldered and muscular.
His brown hair dripped water from the brief downpour, and his eyes showed wisdom beyond his young years. It wasn't a comforting wisdom, it seemed almost sinister.

The woman next to him had gentle asian features, but a cold stare, she wore black from head to toe, and held an umbrella to keep her well kept hair dry.

The two were both staring at Margaret, she expected them to apologize for their dog, but they didn't.

"Margaret Nikolov." The man drawled, his lips pulling into a smile. "You really are easy to find."

Not knowing if she should trust him, Margaret stayed quiet.

The man took off his black coat and laid it on the closed dumpster's lid. "Me and my girlfriend were hoping for a chance to speak with you."

Margaret couldn't help but stare, around his neck, was a long necklace, or rather, a long string of polished teeth.
More concerning however, was the rifle slung over his back.

The man slipped on black gloves, he sure was taking his sweet time with this.

Margaret took her chance to run, tearing through the alley to the road on the opposite side, but unfortunately before she could get to it the huge dog cut her off, barking and growling.
The animal's massive jaws were revealed and she knew she couldn't get past that, especially not when the silent woman laid down her umbrella and joined the dog, her hand resting over her hip, where a pistol was evident behind her coat.

Margaret's hands quaked as she pulled out her wallet, she held it out to the man. "You can have it."

He raised an eyebrow and it was plain to see how he considered the offer.
"This isn't a robbery. Trust me, honey, we'll get a lot more than your wallet when you're dead."

He was actually going to kill her? He knew her name and he had something against her. What had she ever done?! Margaret began to panic.

She hadn't used her powers against a person in a long, long time.
Never on purpose.
But she would, without a doubt. There was nobody in the world who deserved to be brought to justice like this man. It came to Margaret, who he was, and though he looked different from in the pictures, she knew. "Silver Van Helsing." Margaret drawled, the name felt like poison in her mouth.

Monster hunter extraordinaire, the grim reaper, the boy with the silver stake, the slayer.
Margaret had heard it all before.
She was a civil woman, near twenty years older than the Helsing wannabe, still...it was a fair fight.

But...was it unlawful to kill him? Silver was young, human, and had slain many a tyrant, but that was likely because he slayed everything.
She'd have asked 'why me?' but she knew the answer, and that answer was none. Somehow, Silver had heard of her, and now, she was going to die.

Silver grabbed Margaret by her shoulders and slammed her into the brick wall.
Her hand shot up to her ear as ringing began already.
Before she could defend herself Silver pulled her down and slammed his knee into her face.

Margaret cried out at the sudden, unexpected impact, feeling a nosebleed instantly.
Silver knows what I am...I want to know what I am. Who am I? Who am I? Who-

"I've never seen a boogieman before!" Silver exclaimed, some combination of an excited child and a malicious man.

Margaret found it excruciatingly difficult to speak, her face twisted in too much pain for such luxuries. "Boogieman?" She managed to choke out.
"I'm not...I'm...not..."

Silver slammed his rifle against her shoulder and Margaret doubled over in pain,
"You're not gonna fight back? Just staying down? This is pathetic! This isn't even fun!"

Margaret sank to the ground, trying to catch her breath. She had to close her eyes, she didn't know what release that would give her but she had to rest as she felt the metallic taste of blood fill her mouth.

She heard Silver lunge forward for a final kick only for his foot to land gently on the pavement.
"Silver, please." His companion whispered.

Ah, she speaks.

"Elenor?"

"Just shoot her. Get it done with. You beat her up and she'll kill you, don't die fighting such a useless woman."

As Margaret awaited a faster death she realized a number of things.
First, her brother would worry, her brother who had been through so much, he'd try to find her and when he did...
Second, Margaret didn't have a family or lover or friends. She could have but now she never would.
Third, she'd never hit send on that email, that call out to freaks like her.

She wanted to talk to those people. She wanted love and she wished she had told her brother she loved him.

More than anything she wished she had.
Her thoughts pounded in her head, and hot tears hit the ground.

I'm not a sacrifice to your perception of humanity. Your perception of humanity is a killer. And it is a killer being justified by pretty little lies.

If monsters are heartless and soulless then Silver Van Helsing ought to be their king.
Someone should let him know that.

Margaret finally opened her eyes. She hadn't even noticed Silver and Elenor arguing. Silver held the rifle and Elenor gripped at its barrel, yelling all the while.

Everything was foggy, the couple's figures became blurry and hard to tell apart.

Blurry vision is a sure fire sign of...no!
The smoke in the alleyway was real!

Margaret stares at her fingertips. They didn't hurt or burn, but smoke was accumulating from where they met the cold cement.
She was doing this. As soon as she realized and pulled her hand back the smoke dispersed.

Margaret had no idea what she was doing, her body took over her mind and now the smoke was deep violet, it blended together into the shape of a person. They were nearly featureless but unmistakably a human shape. She breathed out, making more figures rise through her mind and nothing else. Four of them. That was all she could make while the pain in her head and body throbbed as it did now.

She wanted to scream, but held it in. Elenor and Silver grew quiet too. Margaret heard footsteps all around, she was terrified to find out which was which. They must have come to an agreement. The opportunity to hunt in the fog was too good to pass up.

There was a gunshot that rumbled through Margaret's ears with a bang.
A bullet whizzed through the fog and hit a dumpster a few feet away from her. "Margaret..." Silver drawled, he tapped his rifle against a trashcan and it sang a melancholy echo of the metallic sound.

Margaret rushed away from her shadow people, lest they give her away. They loitered in the air together, unmoving and unblinking.

Margaret had never done that before. And...it freaked her out. Were they figments of her imagination? Were they physical? Sentient? Ghosts? She didn't know, she ran from the alleyway as fast as she could.

Just as she reached the edge, that quaint, doll-like, Elenor appeared in front of her.
Margaret lifted a shaking finger to her lips. Quiet. Please quiet.

Elenor stared back at her, she looked almost...scared.
If anyone has the right to fear it's Margaret! Elenor is an accomplice! A killer! She can't be scared of her victim! That's not how it works! That's not-

"I'm sorry." Elenor said in a low tone.

Margaret unclenched her fists, she felt energy release and wondered if this monstrous body could pack a supernatural punch.

Elenor was just a young woman trying to get by. She didn't seem so bad. Not yet at least.

"You get away from Silver and find a nice man, alright?" Margaret whispered, giving a thankful nod.

"Silver is a nice man."

"Nice men don't make you kill people."

Elenor looked at her hands, her silver engagement ring, rusted by old blood. She raised her voice
"He isn't making me kill people."
"Quiet down." Margaret snapped.

"You don't know anything about me or my life." Elenor growled.

"He'll hear you! Quiet!!"

"Maybe he's not what you should be afraid of!!" Elenor reached into her coat, pulling out her silver pistol. She pointed it straight at Margaret's chest.

"You don't want to do this..." Margaret said. Elenor didn't have the eyes of a killer, surely if Margaret said the right things there was no way Elenor could shoot.

"I didn't want to do this. But I will. You're a threat to Silver." Elenor claimed, her dark eyes dead serious.

"My brother is waiting for me at home. I didn't tell him I loved him before I left...Elenor...I beg you..."

If Margaret wasn't mistaken...there were tears budding in Elenor's eyes, she began to lower the gun.

A shadow figure flew by the duo. Elenor turned her attention to that.
Then a bullet flew through it into the wall with a loud, thunder-like bang.

Elenor jumped. There was another bang.
Margaret screamed. Elenor screamed.

Darkness, shadows, darkness, night, gunshot, brother, darkness, blood, pain, death, birth...

Margaret lifted a weak hand to her chest, blood pouring out from between her fingers and onto the ground as she slid down the wall, breathing heavily. Inside she was screaming, but she couldn't do that now. It hurt too much.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I...I didn't mean it!" Cried Elenor, crouching down beside her dying victim.

Margaret could only shake her head.
"He's not making you...kill...anybody..." she managed to choke out.

Elenor stuffed the gun into her coat and stumbled backwards. She swore loudly.
"Shut up! Stop talking!" She covered her ears with her hands and shook her head.
"Just stop!"

The last thing Margaret saw was Elenor run from the alleyway, only for Silver to grab her by the arm, coaxing her to stay with gentle lies.

Every day, every hour, every moment, maybe every single second, someone takes their first breath and someone takes their last.
That's terrifying, and somehow it's calming and beautiful too. This is the balance of our world.

On this particular night, a boy named Donovan had just been born.