Hellsing was leaning over me, his hands were braced on either side of my shoulders, his blue eyes wide as he searched my face.
“Grace,” he spoke, his voice shredded. “Talk to me.”
I dragged in a breath of fresh air, then another. My throat hurt, my palms burned, and my whole body felt wrong. It ached as if it had been torn apart then rushed back together. He cupped my face, his thumbs skimming my cheeks, my legs, my ribs. Assuring himself that I’m alive.
“You with me, baby?” he asks, softer now, but the fear still lives in his eyes.
I nod, still shaking as I try to make sense of what I just went through. His shoulders dropped to the smallest degree, and he let out a breath he seemed to be holding this entire time.
“What happened?” he asked.
“What?” I ask him, still in shock.
“You were screaming. You literally flew off the bed. I thought…I thought Bael…”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, and I can still hear the echo of Bael’s laughter in the recesses of my mind.
Grabbing at his arm, I pull Hellsing close. “Just… hold me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He slides in beside me, pulls me into his chest and throws the blanket over us. I listened to his heartbeat thundering under my ear in the silence. His hand moves slowly up and down my spine, steadying the tremor I don’t think could be erased.
“You’re safe,” he says again, reassuring me. “It was just a bad dream.”
My body knows him, and I find comfort in his embrace. I press myself closer and breathe him in until the images in my head fade enough to speak.
“Don’t let go,” I whisper.
“Not a chance.”
We stay like that for a long time. The room eases. The dark lightens around the edges. At some point, my shaking stops. At some point, his breathing evens. We don’t sleep. Not really. But at least I know I’m safe.
I look over at him, the fear was still there, still etched in his brow although he had fallen asleep. I softly kissed the corner of his mouth, before cuddling close and closing my eyes.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper, “I’ll tell you the truth tomorrow.”
HELLSING
It was humid and hot this morning, and the faint smell of rain was in the horizon. I’d been up since dawn, sitting outside the house, leaning against my Harley while I checked the plugs and wiped down the pipes. The sound of metal on metal and the smell of oil were better than any therapy I’d ever had. It gave my hands something to do, kept my head from wandering too far back into the darkness I’d seen last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Grace. Arched and trembling, eyes wide with terror one minute and blazing with power the next. Her eyes were glowing a bright amber and her body had been scorching to the touch. My thoughts went back to the Midnite Wytch, the way she’d pulled me back… that wasn’t something I could shake off easily. I was now absolutely certain I didn’t crawl out of that pit; she’d somehow dragged me out.
What was worse was that I knew she was hiding something from me. I could sense it, and my gut was never wrong. LikeBuffywith her cramps, but instead it was the pang of sharp anxiety.
Yeah, I like the Buffster, girl was a badass fighting demons.
But that’s besides the point, Grace’s energy was intense last night, and I felt it pulse through me as I lay next to her. It was dark but familiar, and I could swear it felt exactly the way it did after I returned from one of my trips to Neverland. Not that comparing Hell to a fairy tale made it less ominous.
I didn’t understand why she wasn’t telling me the truth, but I’ve learned that with Grace, you just had to be patient.
The front door creaked open behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know it was her. The shift in the air was enough.
She padded barefoot down the steps, my oversized T-shirt hanging off one shoulder. Her hair was a wild mess; dark auburn waves tangled from sleep. The morning light caught the faint shimmer of her skin, still pale from shock but softening at the edges. My shirt barely covered her thighs, and when she tugged at the hem like she’d just realized how short it was, I felt a slow burn settle deep in my gut. She looked half-awake, half-guilty, and all beautiful.
“Coffee’s on the counter,” I said without looking up, wiping my hands on a rag.
Her voice was still husky with sleep. “Found it. Can’t function without it. You always up this early?”
“Old habit,” I said, glancing over at her. “Didn’t sleep much.”
