[/html]Understanding why was something he had given up on, somewhere along the way. His brothers had all done terrible things, unspeakable things. Gabriel's justification had been no justification at all, nothing tangible, and nothing that Kharma could ever believe in. He supposed it would be similar for the others, for Samael and for Andrezej, and for the brothers he had never met -- they all saw and felt and believed in things that he could not see or feel or find reason in, and so he stood apart from them, a stranger. He closed his eyes briefly. "I know," he said. "I would have probably tried to kill him too, if I had been there." As a child, he had suspected somehow that he and Andre would really kill each other one day -- his brother always tried to, even before their teeth were sharp. In the end, Gabriel and Corona gotten to him first, and it didn't really matter.
Andre was a smear in the sand, to be hidden and forgotten. There was nothing under the rock worth remembering. He didn't know why he had come.
"There is poison in the blood," he said. "This place makes it worse, somehow. Samael tried once to rape my sister. Perhaps he succeeded with others." And yet, Kharma did not know if he actually hated his brothers. They had betrayed him, yes, and the name "Lykoi" shamed him, but the distance and the time had numbed him to those feelings. Their crimes were buried under the rock with Andrezej, and though their bodies lived still, he had not seen them in years. He had erected mental graves for them. He had no desire to see them again. But he wondered, if the madness was really in their heritage, how much blame could be placed on the individuals? If all that separated his only full-blooded brother and himself was a coin flip, how much could Andre really be blamed? It was something wicked in their bodies and their minds, but they had not placed it there.
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