Shadowkissed (A Hemlock Grove fan fiction)

tick tock, it's feeding time

A gust of chilled autumn air from the open window rises against tufts of blond hair that have grown out far too long. Roman should have had it cut ages ago, but too much has occupied his mind in the past months. More important things than his aesthetic have taken precedence.

If his mother were here, she would have dragged him into the salon by the ear by now. But that's the whole damned thing -- she isn't here. Without her incessant haranguing, he has perhaps, in a sense, let himself go.

He hears the footsteps, light and bounding, before the banging on the door knocks him clear out of his reverie. The overpowering scent of rosemary and faint blood wafts through cracks in the wood; the intensity of his newfound sense of smell never fails to surprise him. Setting down the glass of Scotch on the bar, Roman drags himself through the empty house to answer it, though he already knows exactly who it will be.

The door swings open, and for a moment he takes her in: long dark hair flowing wildly in the autumn wind. Full crimson lips, bright onyx eyes. A dark-red pea coat that makes him shudder. He can find a million ways to describe her, but the only word that he deems fitting enough for her is beautiful, although it pains him immensely to admit it.

A frown crosses her pale, unblemished face. "Don't look so happy to see me," Ivana tells him dryly.

His scowl deepens. "I'm not happy to see you."

She blazes past him, crossing into his home uninvited, as always. He wonders why the stereotypical vampire rules, like needing an invitation to enter someone else's house or being invisible in mirrors, don't seem to apply to them. Never has Roman missed his reflection in the mirror, and he's checked often. But then again, he reminds himself, they aren't vampires-at least, not in the traditional sense. They are Upir, whatever that means.

"I really do love your home." Ivana runs a cavalier finger along the mantle, grimacing as she examines the layer of dust that has now transferred onto her skin. "Olivia was always such a tireless decorator."

A ripple of shock runs through Roman's body. It's the first time he's heard his mother's name out of anyone's mouth other than Pryce or Macy in a long time. "How do you know Olivia?" Roman demands.

She shrugs, a coy little grin slipping onto her lips. "That's a tale for another time. Get your coat, please."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Now will you stop asking so many questions and just do as I say for once in your life?"

Roman digs his line in the sand. "No," he snaps. "Tell me where we're going, or I'm not leaving this house. Kill me if you want, but I'm not budging until you let me in on this impromptu little plan of yours."

There's a long pause as they face off. Roman knows good and well that Ivana could kill him if she felt so inclined. One flick of the wrist, a squeeze too hard, and he would be angel dust. Devil, more like, he thinks sardonically.

Finally Ivana smiles tightly, exhaling. "Oh, fine. You're really no fun, you know that?" She rolls her eyes. "We're going hunting."

"Hunting?" A vile image of redneck men in camouflage and bright orange, laughing and shotgunning beers, fills his mind. No, thank you.

Ivana nods. "I want to teach you how to be, well, you. To be Upir -- it's a gift, and it's not something you just become without a little training. And if I'm being honest here, I'm really getting sick and tired of watching you suck down leeches from the scum of this earth."

"So you're stalking me now."

"Not intentionally," Ivana defends, opening the sliding glass door and stepping backwards out of it, her eyes never leaving his. "I've simply taken a special interest in you." Her expression suddenly turns grim. "You're in grave danger, Godfrey. I'm trying to keep you from being a party to your own imminent death, so try to work with me a little here, all right?"