Wings of Blood and Cruelty

A Hemlock Grove fanfic by Glamoured By-Eric

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.-Friedrich Nietzsche

Chapter 1 - Revelations

Christina Wendall twitched, her nostrils flared, and then a scream tore from her dry throat. The embalming fluid that ran through her veins was burning and freezing her simultaneously. Every breath was an effort as she writhed in pain.

How did I get here? Where am I? Where is my wolf?

She felt around herself, trying to gauge where she was, and felt the satin lining of her dark prison as she realized she was in a coffin and had been buried alive.

"No!" she screamed. "Help me! I'm in here. Help me!"

Panic settled over her and Christina clawed the satin and screeched over and over again until she could screech no longer.

Still writhing with pain Christina finally lost consciousness only to wake up later to the same predicament. The process was repeated over and over again until she felt the madness set it. Her last conscious thought was that she was no longer Christina but was becoming something else. Something foreign to herself. Something new. Something horrific.

Her body shifted and jerked, using the embalming fluid to make itself over, breaking free of its human form. In the end, Christina was gone, and the creature remaining, was enlarging, snarling, and frothing at the mouth. It looked around its prison with its new eyes and began using its claws to try and free itself.

Wiping the rest of his mother's blood away from his mouth and lips with the back of his hand, Roman Godfrey looked down at his mother's body and the tongue he had just torn from her mouth in disgust. All those years she had been manipulating him, giving him commands that he could not counteract, taking away his free will and his memory of the events. With one word, she had given it all back to him, and if it wasn't for his sister Shelley's words to him from his coma state and his practicing in front of the mirror, he would never have been able to steel his heart against the truth she had shown him.

It sickened him that she had been taking him with her to Castle Godfrey to watch her kill indigents and drink their blood, explaining that was how they had to live. By blood and by cruelty. No wonder he'd had such a fixation with blood.

Her worst crime had been with Letha Godfrey. His dear cousin of whom he had always been so protective.

Olivia Godfrey had played upon his natural affection for Letha and ordered him to impregnate her. She had it all timed out in her mind so that the baby would be born around his eighteenth birthday. She had ordered Dr. Johann Pryce to let Letha die if there were complications. Pryce had given her the child when Norman Godfrey, the child's grandfather, had rejected her.

After he had fucked Letha several times that first night and the succeeding nights, Olivia had influenced him into making Letha believe she had been visited by an angel. As usual, Olivia had gotten her way. He had not even remembered doing any of it until tonight. He remembered so many things now.

To think his evil cuntress of a mother had wanted him to kill his only child from his union with Letha. How could his mother be so cruel after he had just lost Letha, and his best friend, Peter Rumancek, had skipped town? She knew he was hurting. She knew and did not care!

But he was not his mother. He was his own man now free of her machinations. He was, however, something different now, and would have to feed to sustain his life.

Hours passed as he contemplated all the things his mother's command had revealed to him. As he came back to the present, the infant had grown quiet. He moved closer to the Shelley-sized bassinet, looking down at his daughter. Curious, he reached down and stroked her little red cheek and chin, surprised at how soft yet fragile the girl was. Different or not, his daughter would live.

Roman pulled his smart phone out of his pocket and selected his lawyer's number.

"Mason and Martel," the receptionist answered.

"Annette. It's Roman. I want to speak to Mason."

Her voice lowered and softened, "Why Roman, where have you been you bad boy? It's been ages. When are you going to stop by again? I really enjoyed... giving you a tour."

"I'll stop by soon, and we can uh... explore your desk more thoroughly," he teased. "Is he in?"

"I'll see if he is available."

"Good girl," he added.

Thirty seconds passed and then Mason picked up. "Roman! It is Mason. What can I do for you?"

"First of all, I need to know that what I am about to say to you falls under privilege."

"Of course, Roman. You can say anything to me, and I will not be able to disclose it."

"Good. I need two things from you. A wet nurse and someone to dispose of my mother's body."

There was a bit of coughing on the other end. "Did you say your mother is deceased?"

"Yes, and in a condition that can't be explained away to the police. Surely you know who she went to before with her specific needs."

"I do know who to contact about that. I will take care of it. As for the wet nurse, I know of someone who might do. She recently lost her baby. I think she would work perfectly for the job."

"I'd need her to live here full time. We'll get a proper nursery set up. Uncle Norman and I are the only ones who live here now besides my infant... cousin. The sooner you could arrange for her care, the better. Norman is distraught over losing Letha, and I am not prepared or experienced with caring for a baby."

With that Roman hung up the phone, stuffed it in his pocket, and picked up his daughter. So tiny. So innocent. If he had anything to say about it, she would stay that way. Roman kissed the top of the infant's head and laid her back down.

"Aletha Michelle Godfrey. You are mine."

The wolf padded along the wet concrete of the substructure with his nose toward the ground. There was an evilness whose scent he had picked up and was following. Several rats ran from him, and he gave chase, catching one and chomping down on his bones. The rat squealed; the last sound it would ever make. Swallowing it tail and all, he continued on the trail.

His eyes glowed in the darkness as he moved along, lighting his own way. The scent grew stronger as he neared his goal. Crouching down, he crawled through a low opening. As soon as he entered, the smell dissipated, and the entryway closed behind him, trapping him in a concrete tomb. He growled when he caught movement at the other end of the chamber.

"Peter," a female voice called out. "It's okay. It's me. Shelley. I won't hurt you."

The wolf moved over to her and licked her hand, sitting down in front of her. She was beautiful in this form, a normal young woman, and he felt drawn to her.

Shelley knelt down and buried her face in his neck. "I've missed you, Peter. Tell Roman that I love him when you go back. He needs you right now. Hemlock Grove needs you. Something evil has been unleashed there and only you and Roman can fight it. Together."

Peter gave a 'woof' of displeasure, and Shelly continued as if she understood him. "No, Peter. You have to go back. I know you want to run but you are nearly an adult now and must face up to your responsibilities. I loved Letha too. She was blood as you are blood."

Sensing that he was not convinced, she quoted Winston Churchill, "'One ought never to turn one's back on a threatened danger and try to run away from it. If you do that, you will double the danger. But if you meet it promptly and without flinching, you will reduce the danger by half. Never run away from anything. Never!'"

"Peter! Peter! Wake up," said Lynda, pulling into the gas station as Peter Rumancek jerked awake from his dream. "I'm beat. It's your turn to drive."

"Okay."

Lynda Rumancek put the car in park and turned off the engine, and both of them got out and stretched their legs. It was an old Conoco station with a small mini mart inside. While Lynda gassed up the car, Peter scratched his itching bald head and went into the store. Inside he used the men's restroom. Standing at the urinal, he felt his balls beginning to ache; that feeling he always got when something was wrong. He gave them a squeeze, adjusting them a bit, zipped up when he was finished, and washed his hands. Before he went back to the car, he bought some soft drinks and snacks. Outside, he opened the car door and placed the snacks in the seat between where they'd be sitting again shortly while Lynda paid for the gas and used the ladies room.

Lynda got into the car and said, "Good. You got us some snacks. We're all set then."

"Balls," replied Peter.

Lynda looked at him pointedly and asked, "You've got that feeling again?"

"Yeah, I do," he said lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.

"What do you think it is?"

Peter blew the smoke out the open window and scratched his head again. He flipped his thumb against his nose and looked at his mother. "We have to go back."

Lynda sighed and said, "We talked about this, Peter. You agreed there is nothing holding us there any longer. Do you want to be put in a cage? You came damned close this time."

"We're not finished with Hemlock Grove or it is not finished with us. Do you think I want to go back? It is a reminder of everything I gained and then lost. My balls are telling me we have to go back."

"I have a bad feeling about this, Peter. Bad."

"I know. My head is telling me not to go but my balls are never wrong. Something has happened to Roman. I know it. He's my friend."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Before we stopped I had a dream. Shelley appeared to me and told me Roman needed me and something evil would soon be coming to Hemlock Grove that Roman and I would have to team together to fight. We have to go back."

"Okay, baby. We'll go back but we'll keep packed up in case we need to leave quickly."

"Fine with me. I don't think we should stay at the trailer. I can't. Too many memories, and it isn't safe for us there."

"I think your cousin would take us in, Peter. We'll have a place to stay."

"Well, shee-it. Let's mosey on down the road then."

Peter started the car, put it in drive and headed back the way that they had come.

AN:

You will need to watch season one of Hemlock Grove on streaming Netflix before reading this story, otherwise you won't get all the characters and references from that show and the story won't make a lot of sense to you.

If this were an episode of Hemlock Grove, this would be the music I would play through the ending credits as Peter drove back: Imagine Dragons - Hear Me.