I sighed. “He’s dangerous, Seri.”
“So are you, sugar,” she said softly. “And maybe that’s why you two found each other.”
I didn’t respond, and she leaned in. “You need to strengthen the sigil. I’ll mix you somethin’ tonight, oil, ash, blood from your own palm. But I warn you, it will hurt and it is only temporary.”
“I’ll take any protection you want to throw at me.”
She smiled faintly. “You are just like your daddy.”
The thought cut deep. “He never told me what it felt like,” I said quietly. “To have something inside your head that you can’t escape.”
Her voice softened. “He didn’t want you to know.”
“Well, now I do,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry. God does not give us anything we cannot handle.”
“So, they say,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“There is somethin’ else you need to be careful about, cher.”
“What?”
She gave me a sly smile. “That man of yours. You two are walkin’ on dangerous ground. The energy between you is feedin’ the bond. Every time you touch, every time you think about each other, it grows.”
I stared at her, heat curling low in my stomach at the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he’d said my name in the dark. “You make it sound like we’re cursed.”
Seraphine chuckled softly. “Oh, honey, all love stories with demons in the mix are cursed.”
I laughed, but it came out nervous. “You’re not helping.”
“I ain’t supposed to,” she said, standing. “I’m supposed to tell you the truth. And the truth is, you’re in deep shit, spiritually and otherwise. So watch yourself.”
She walked around the counter and kissed my cheek. “You tell that man of yours to come see me too. He’s carrying more than just that demon. I can feel it.”
“I’ll tell him,” I said, though I knew he wouldn’t like it.
She smiled, her eyes gleaming like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Coffee is on me, cher. Go get your head right before the sun sets. Tonight’s gonna bring something with it.”
Her words stayed with me as I stepped back out onto the street. The air was thick, humid, heavy with that pre-storm stillness that always made your skin prickle.
I could already feel it, the connection between Hellsing and me thrumming under my skin like a pulse that didn’t belong to either of us alone.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fight it.
.
HELLSING
That storm had gotten worse by the time I rolled through the gates. The road out past the clubhouse turned slick under my tires, water spraying off the asphalt as I rode down toward the old runway. Out here, tucked off the side of the road, sat an old, rundown hangar we calledthe Boneyard. It was a rusted-out graveyard full of broken plane skeletons and used parts. We used it to keep the things we didn’t want the world to see out of sight.
By the time I pulled in, the storm was getting stronger, and the wind pulled at my coattails. Macabre’s black Harley was lined up beside Scorn’s and Jameson’s bikes, engines still ticking from the ride. The only cage out there was Hoax’s black pickup, backed up to the hangar doors with the headlights cutting through the rain. It was 11 a.m., though the storm made it look closer to dusk.
I killed the engine, boots sinking into the mud as I stepped off the bike. The smell of wet metal and gasoline filled the air. My thoughts weren’t here, they were with Grace, wondering if she’d eaten, if she was still at that beignet shop, if she’d gotten back to theMidnight Wytchokay. My thoughts were broken by the sightof Macabre, leaning against his bike, raising an eyebrow at me. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, the ash hitting my boot.
“Bout time, Exorcist,” he said, voice flat, hood up over his head.
“What’s with all the cryptic messages, man? I got three missed calls from you and a text that said to meet out here. What’s going on?”
