“Jesus, Seraphine!” I hissed, glancing around the café even though we were the only two there.
She laughed, low and wicked. “Don’t blush, Grace. It’s natural. And we are both women. He’s got that look about him, trouble dressed in leather and scars. Men like that are born to ruin good girls.”
“I’m not a good girl.”
She raised a brow. “No, you’re not. But you’re his kind of trouble, and that scares you more than the demons ever could. I am pretty sure it scares him too.”
I didn’t answer. Because she was right. The way Hellsing looked at me… it wasn’t gentle. It was raw and hungry, almost reverent. Like he wanted to protect me and devour me in the same breath. I hated how my body reacted to him. How my pulse kicked up every time he got close. How his voice, low and rough with that Louisiana drawl, could undo me with a single word.
“I don’t know what this is,” I finally said. “But whatever connection there is between us, it’s getting stronger. Last night, when he went down, I felt it. Like I could feel him slipping away.”
Seraphine reached across the counter and took my hand. “Let me see your palm.”
I hesitated, then turned my hand over. Her long fingers traced the lines, soft at first, then slower as her brows knit together.
The shop went quiet, the hum of the city fading into the background. I could feel her magic rising, the faint buzz in the air, the way the candle flame on the table flickered.
Her expression darkened. “You’ve got two lifelines, cher.”
“That’s not possible,” I said softly.
“It shouldn’t be,” she agreed. “But here they are. One is yours, one his. They cross right here.” She pressed her thumb against the center of my palm. “That’s where you pulled him back from. The place between life and death. But there’s a shadow over it. Something dark, ancient. He’s not done with you yet.”
I swallowed hard. “The demon.”
“Bael,” she said, the name tasting foul even as she whispered it. “It whispers to the spirits. I can almost hear it. It wants you because of your power. It wants him because he’s the only one who can stop him.”
A chill crawled down my spine. “So, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Seraphine’s gaze softened. “You listen to the part of you that knows. You’re your father’s daughter, Grace. You’ve got the gift, and you are maybe stronger than you realize. You’re gonna have to use it.”
I pulled my hand back, shaking my head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“You will,” she said simply.
“You’re tattoo, Grace. Show me.”
I pulled my sweater to the side, exposing the sigil tattooed along my chest. The spiraling design that was once a sharp black, was now dull and fading
Seraphine traced the outline with her fingertip. “It’s dead. The protection is gone.”
My throat tightened. “Can that happen?”
“There are only two ways this could happen. The one who made it is gone…which last time I checked, my grandmother was alive and kicking. Or… the evil that’s callin’ you is stronger than the spell.”
I stared at my coffee, watching the swirl of sugar melt into black liquid. “So Bael’s stronger.”
She tilted her head. “Not necessarily, but he is feeding off the bond between you and Hellsing.”
I looked up sharply and Seraphine gave me that knowing smirk again. “That man’s energy clings to you like smoke after a fire.”
“Again, with that. We’re bonded because of a spell, that is all.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. I can see it all over you. The way your body reacts when you say his name, the way your aura sparks. Lust, guilt, power, it’s all tangled together.”
I crossed my arms. “He’s infuriating.”
“And you want him anyway,” she said with a grin. “There’s no shame in that, cher. I am actually happy for you. I didn’t think anyone could reach you.”
