Shadowkissed (A Hemlock Grove fan fiction)

this is a war, and the casualties are your souls

He hears her. He hadn’t thought it was possible before but he hears her scream now, feels it ripple through his veins like a thousand volts of electricity.

He’s out the door and running before Ivana can even open her mouth.

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Macy thinks the man is going to kiss her. Which makes absolutely no sense, of course, but why else would someone lean their mouth so close to another person’s? Even when his face passes hers and reaches her neck with a snap, she isn’t completely comprehending what’s happening until the pain hits her brain. It is blinding and pulls a blood-curdling scream right out of her throat, but it doesn’t last long. In fact, after a moment, it feels almost euphoric, like the most incredible high she can ever imagine. No wonder why Tyler is always intoxicated—it feels like all the most intimate parts of her are on display for the world to see, a blanket of pure pleasure and golden exultation.

And then it’s over, and Devon is letting Macy’s limp body fall to the ground. Her head hits the pavement hard and she feels a thick liquid start to spread across her scalp, but there isn’t any pain. The entire thing had only taken less than a few minutes, but it had felt as though she was in euphoria for eternity.

Macy hears the heavy peal of tires on dirt, followed by angry shouts and pounding footsteps, though it feels as though it’s happening to someone else. The noises are warped and slowed through time and space, and she begins to feel lighter than air, like if she wanted to she could up and fly away. Wouldn’t that be nice, she thinks, to just float to the sky and be with the clouds, so high above all of the madness down on earth.

Is this what it’s like to die? Her heart flutters with a slowing beat. There have been countless times where the depression she was in last summer had sunk her low enough to contemplate bringing a razorblade right across her neck, pulling the knife vertical down her forearm because it’s harder for the doctors to stitch it up. All the times she’s thought of swallowing every last one of Tyler’s Adderall pills, of filling up the tub and just falling asleep in the warm water. Death is so easy—it’s life that’s the hard part.

Her head lolls to one side, and through her blurred vision she sees a tall blond figure, extremely familiar but not at the same time, take Devon by the neck with impossible speed and slam him against  a nearby steel pole. He slides to the ground with a thump, his arms and legs bent at all strange angles. Another figure grapples with the one who looked like Jenny, but in a flash she’s gone. 

Macy feels as though she might be sick. Not real, it’s not real, it’s not—

Hands wrap around her torso, and suddenly she’s being pulled into someone’s lap. The jostling movement makes her bleed even more. Fingers press against her neck, just above where Devon ripped into her throat. “She’s got a pulse!”

Roman. The name resonates through her brain, sounding beautiful and terrifying at the same time. She opens and closes her eyes until the blurring face above her clears. Roman, looking almost angelic with the moon behind his head, is staring down at her imploringly. 

“Hi,” she says, barely audible.

“Hi yourself,” he chokes out, managing a shaky smile. To someone else he yells, “She’s barely conscious. We need to get her out of here now.” A hand strokes the back of her head where it’s still wet from being slammed against the pavement, and she winces in pain. Roman pulls his hand away and stares at the red that stains it. “Ivana,” he calls uncertainly. “Ivana, I don’t think— I’m not sure—”

“Get it together, Godfrey,” commands someone else. It’s not Naomi—this voice is too loud and boisterous, too menacing. “Be strong. If you can’t, she’s going to die.”