The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Part 52 - The Servitor

"Y/N...come play with me!"

True fear, you discover, twists the gut into utter silence.    Nothing works.  Not your feet, your mind, your instincts.    The only animation within is your heart pounding against your ribs.   It bangs so hard you feel certain you'll have a heart attack and drop dead on the spot.   Breathing is difficult.   You watch with horrid fascination as the monstrosity before you stretches its neck forwards with a tilt of the head - a gesture loaded with Brahms' energy.

Those acid green eyes bore into yours,  raking up terror and rendering you speechless.   There's the surreal feeling of being stuck in one of those nightmares where you can't run or scream, where your body feels as though it's trapped in a suffocating sump of treacle.   

Then Brahms sniggers.  

All you can do is lean away from him, your eyes following his outstretched arm that expands towards you, growing and stretching in ways that defy nature.       

If it touches me I'll scream and won't stop screaming....

Then something breaks inside.   "Brahms!"   Your voice is little more than a strangled whisper.  

"Y/N!"

You whirl round.    A tall figure stands at the end of the corridor near the head of the stairs.  Frantically, you turn to stare back at the thing with the bright green eyes.   Its hand, pale and long fingered is inches from your face.   And now you smell it.   Dank and rank like graveyard soil.  With a sobbing cry you duck, then twist away, falling to your knees.   You hear the real Brahms  running towards you.   He moves silently, as though in slow motion,  a ferocious expression on his face.   You wriggle away from whatever monster Elias's magic has conjured, knowing if it reaches you you'll lose your sanity.   It still wears that rictus smile, but as its luminous eyes shift up to Brahms tearing fearlessly towards it, you see the grin drop.    Brahms skids to halt in front of you, just as the thing winks out of existence.

"What the hell was that?   Did it touch you?"

At the sound of his voice, you burst into tears.   He reaches out to you.  You cringe away.   

"It's me, Y/N...Brahms.   Sweetheart, it's me."

"It had your voice..."

"It wasn't me."

He squats downs, slowly reaching out to you.  As his fingers brush your cheek you smell him; lemon soap with his own unique scent, warm and masculine.  Like a small animal you scurry to him, curling up in his lap.   He strokes your hair, pressing his lips to your forehead.  "It's alright, I'm here.  You're safe."

"Oh, God!"

"Let's go downstairs.  I don't think either of us will get much sleep tonight."

You turn on all the lights and sit in the kitchen -  you nursing a brandy, Brahms pouring himself a strong hot coffee.  You  pour another drink.  Your hands have only just stilled their trembling.  Patiently, he waits until you speak.  "Every time I close my eyes all I can see is that thing reaching for me with an arm six foot long!   I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come...I'd have gone stark staring mad!"

"What was it?"

Fighting to control another burst of hysteria, you mumble, "I think it's a servitor."

"Servitor?"

You nod.   "Elias used them with his chaos magic.  Or so he said.  God, that stupid bastard!"

"You're not making sense."

"A servitor is like... a kind of psychological complex deliberately created by the magician to do his bidding."