Saving Grace

58

"How do you know every constellation? Honestly, it's impossible."

"It's not impossible, look."

I pointed to the heavens, traced the stars. Grace followed my gaze, spread her fingers in the sand.

"That one's Andromeda," I said, listening as the gentle tide washed upon the shore. "And that one is Cetus."

Grace frowned.

"Who?"

I smiled.

"Andromeda. She was the most beautiful woman in all the land – or so her mother thought. She bragged about her daughter's beauty to Poseidon, who had created the glorious nymphs that were so famously admired for their beauty. He was offended at the idea that this girl was superior to his creations. So, he took Andromeda and chained her to a clifftop, where he then sent his giant serpent-whale creature named Cetus to eat her."

Grace snuggled in closer, the soft scent of saltwater in her hair. I smiled, wrapped my arm around her and she laid her head on my chest.

"The creature was just about to devour her when young Perseus flew by with the head of Medusa, who he had just slaughtered. After being promised her hand in marriage, he used the decapitated head to turn the beast to stone and saved the beautiful woman from sure death."

"Wait," Grace said, propping herself up on her elbow. "He demanded to have her hand in marriage before he would save her?"

I shrugged.

"That's how the story goes."

"Wow," she said, sitting up. "What a dick."

I laughed, sitting up beside her in the white sand.

"What do you mean?"

"Basically, he wanted to screw her because she was a total babe or whatever, and if she'd said no, then he would let her die."

"Well," I said, "technically it was her father who gave her hand in marriage."

"That's even worse!"

"Can't you just enjoy a romantic story?"

"You call that romantic?"

"Fine, it's not romantic," I said. "But I do think that all this is."

Grace paused, looked around at the beach we were laid upon – the glorious, unpolluted stars, the black tide drifting in and out. A small smile crept onto her face.

"Okay," she said, lying down. "It's a little romantic."

"Only a little?"

I leaned in close, breathed in vanilla and smoke.

"Yeah," she whispered, lips brushing against mine. "Only a little."

My eyes snapped open, the scent of bleach and stale sheets clogging up my throat. I sprung up, fists clenching the hospital bed beneath me.

"Whoa, Richard. Richard, calm down. You are safe."

Godric, standing at my bedside, looked on in concern as the neon white lights illuminated his harsh face.

"Where am I? Where's Grace?"

"You are in hospital. You are safe."

My panicked eyes darted around the room – machines and clear tubes, a small box TV suspended in the corner of the room, a dozen flowers from Phillip on my bedside table.

"Albert..." I grabbed Godric's hand. "Please tell me he's dead."

"Phillip's men arrested Somerton. He is going away for long, long time."

"W-what about Scott? Is he – "

"Scott will be fine. He is here, too. Doctor says he will make full recovery."

I gulped, nodded. Then my chest tightened.

"Grace," I whispered. "Where is Grace?"

A dark and sudden pain filled Godric Mikhailov's eyes, his face tightening, lips in a straight and narrow line. He lowered his head.

"She felt no pain, Richard. You should take comfort in that."

My eyes swelled, vision blurring.

"No," I whispered. "No, she can't be – "

"There was nothing we could do."

I lowered my darting eyes, mind racing, foggy, retreating.

"But you should know," Godric said, grabbing my hands. "I have men in every prison in this state and I swear Somerton will suffer for what he has taken from you."

I shook my head, hot tears pooling in my eyes, running down my cheeks.

"No," I said. "No. This isn't happening. This isn't happening!"

I shook Godric's hands off me, ripped the IV from my arm and swung my legs over the side of my bed.

"Richard, you need to calm down. Please, just sit."

"I have to get out of here."

I grabbed my clothes, contained in a plastic bag on the end of my bed and pulled them on.

"Richard, you have been sedated for a long time. You need to rest until it wears off."

I paused, shifted my weight.

"What do you mean 'sedated'?"

"You were in shock," Godric said, taking a step towards me. "In a frenzy. You attacked my men, you attacked me – your uncle Phillip, too."

I shook my head.

"No, I didn't. I wouldn't." I winced. "Why can't I remember anything?"

Godric placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You were not yourself."

"How long?" I asked, voice cracking. "How long have I been asleep?"

Godric pressed his lips together.

"Three days."

"Three days?"

I smeared my tear-stained cheeks, mind reeling, stomach twisting, throat closing over.

"I can't breathe," I wheezed. "I have to get out of here."

I stormed towards the door. Godric grabbed my arm.

"Richard, stop."

"Let me go!"

"Nephew, please!"

"Let me go!" I roared, kicking him off.

Godric paused despite the fact he could easily overpower me. I trembled, my breathing coming in short and desperate gasps.

"I just..." I trailed off. "I just want to go for a walk. I need to get out here."

Godric tilted his head, doubt in his eyes.

"I need some air," I begged. "Please."

He straightened his back, stepped closer, looked deep into my eyes.

"Your brother is downstairs," he said. "He loves you, and he needs you. So you walk, and you walk far, but when you are finished..." He cupped my face in his hands. "You come back to him. Understand?"

I nodded.

"I promise."

Godric's eyes lowered and he nodded.

"Alright," he said, resting his hands by his sides. "Go."

© A.G. Travers 2018