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 3 - Resolve
Finally, I'm free of Olivia Godfrey!
Relief flooded over Dr. Johann Pryce when he gave his practiced smile at Olivia Godfrey's body being delivered to him that morning. No more covering up for her murders. No more dealing with her mind control over him. No more fear that she'd rip him apart with her fangs; flay him like she had Clementine Chasseur. He was free. If only she had taken his memory of all those events but alas, no, she commanded him without erasing his memory. Olivia really should have asked him what the money would be used for before giving it to him. She really should have. His special plants should have given her a clue.
With the mother gone, now he would have to deal with the son who was a young but unknown entity and quite possibly a loose cannon. Even high or drinking, he might be a problem.
Pryce's phone rang from his jacket pocket, and he answered.
"Dr. Pryce? Roman Godfrey. I think you and I should set up a meet to discuss business. I've come into my majority and would like to be involved with the running of the institute. I have to finish out my school year of course. What does your schedule look like a week from Tuesday at four p.m.?"
Pryce's lips pressed thinner, but he managed to get out, "I'll clear my schedule for then."
"Alright. And Pryce? I want a detailed medical report of Letha's delivery and subsequent death. By the way, why did you give the child to my mother when Uncle Norman, Aunt Marie, and I were told the baby had died? I only discovered last night that she was still alive. These are the things that keep me up at night. See you next Tuesday."
Roman hung up, and Pryce nearly dropped his phone with relief.
The child still lives! Maybe my path to hell isn't quite as steep as I thought.
Letting Letha Godrey die and giving the child to Olivia Godfrey were nearly his breaking points. Olivia had ordered him to do it. He had tried not looking her in the eyes but she had grabbed his jaw and held it as she spoke. For such a man of great strength, the powerlessness of his situation after seeing the bloody body of such a beautiful young woman caused him to lose his self control and destroy his glass desk. At least she hadn't ordered him not to do that.
He had no idea what report he could give the Godfreys. He'd have to come up with something.
At all costs, he had to keep his eyes on the prize. His life's work. Ouroboros. His own phoenix rising. Needing to make himself feel better, Pryce went to visit his pet project, walked the length of the room to the shielded maturation chamber, and gazed down into the chamber window.
"Oh Glow Worm. If only you could have been here to see this. It is all I'd hoped for and more. I just need a little more time. That's all I need."
His progeny looked at him with interest and blinked her eyes.
Pryce was content again even though he now knew he would have a battle ahead of him with Roman just when he thought he was safe. That's what he got for being overconfident. If his luck held out and the drugs had worked, Roman might not remember that he had actually seen Ouroboros.
After their last pit stop, Lynda had taken over driving, and while Peter slept, she passed the Hemlock Grove sign. She hadn't gone very far when flashing lights and sirens came up behind her. She pulled to the right, "Shit! What now?"
Peter jerked awake, looked a bit panicked, hunkered down in the seat and started fidgeting as he scratched his beard. Relief washed over him when he saw the two state patrol cars pass them and head on down the street. Out of curiosity, Lynda pulled out and followed at a slower pace.
"What are you doing, Mom?"
"Finding out what's going on."
They slowed down as they approached Tom Sworn's place and saw the entire police force and a couple of state troopers amassed there. The neighbors on Peter's side of the car were out on the sidewalk gawking at the activity. Lynda pulled over in front of a group standing just outside the cordoned off area.
Peter rolled his window down and asked, "Hey kid. What happened?"
The eight or ten year old kid came over to Peter, carrying a skateboard. "I snuck over there and listened in. Check it. Like the sheriff was making bombs or something. He's in big trouble. This is wicked cool. Way better than when old Mr. Picton left his teeth in his iced tea at the dinner table."
Peter smiled at the boy and said, "Okay, thanks for the 411, kid."
"Hey, no problemo." He lifted his skateboard, dropped it on the concrete, climbed on and took off down the sidewalk, singing, "Bad boys. Bad boys. Whatcha gonna do if they come for you."
Peter turned to his mother, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, wonder what he was planning to blow up."
"Can we go now?" asked Peter, pulling a bit at the crotch of his pants. "I need to stretch my legs, and all these cops are making my balls twitch again."
Lynda rolled her eyes and drove to Destiny's. Once there, they parked around back at the alley entrance and walked into the store. Destiny Rumancek was dressed in a blue tank top and white shorts and stopped dead when she saw them.
"What? What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you left town. Why the hell would you come back?" Destiny ranted. "Do you have a death wish?" She glared at both of them, then softened and continued as if a thought just struck her. "Oh, did you come back for the funeral?"
They looked blankly at her, and Destiny said, "Letha Godfrey's funeral is tomorrow."
Peter looked stricken and swallowed hard. Lynda spoke for both of them. "Peter had a feeling he was needed here. Something bad is going to happen. We just don't know what or when. So, we can't stay at the trailer. Could we stay with you?"
Destiny couldn't stay stern with them. They were kin. "Oh you guys," she said as she crossed to them, and facing them, put one arm around each of them and hugged them around their necks. "Of course you can. I was already missing both of you."
Destiny pulled back a little and ran one of her hands over Peter's close shaven head. "This? I will never get used to. All that beautiful brown hair gone."
"What can I say?" Peter said rhetorically. "I'm in mourning. I felt the need for a change."
"It takes some getting used to, doesn't it?" replied Lynda.
"Not to belittle your feelings, Peter but, yeah, it does," Destiny agreed.
Peter got a little more serious and asked, "When is the funeral?"
"Let me check this morning's paper." Destiny walked over to her counter, picked up the local paper, and flipped through it. "Looks like this Monday, the day after tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. The viewing is tomorrow night from 7:00 - 8:30 p.m. at the funeral home. You gonna go, Peter?"
"What? Like this?" he replied, pointing at his clothing, worn jeans torn at the knees, a Black Sabbath t-shirt, and his black leather jacket.
"I see your point. Well then. We need to go shopping," said Lynda as she looked at Destiny.
Destiny and Lynda said simultaneously, "Second Chances Emporium."
Norman's cell phone rang as he watched the moving van being unloaded by the men Roman had hired. "Hello," greeted Norman.
Acting Sheriff Robert Chinowski said, "Dr. Godfrey, Bob Chinowski here. I need you at Tom Sworn's place. I know it is the weekend, and you have other things on your mind right now with your loss and all, but he's lost his damned mind. Can you come over? On a consultant basis?"
"Sure, I can be there in ten to fifteen minutes."
"Thanks. I'll fill you in when you get here."
It only took Norman about eight minutes to drive from the Godfrey estate to Tom's place. As Norman took in the scene, he exclaimed, "What the fuck?"
His eyes met crime scene tape, a fire engine, an ambulance and an impressive number of law enforcement vehicles. "Jesus!"
Norman exited his car and walked across the street, trying to catch Chin's eye, noticing the red splotches on the man's face that would be full blown bruises later in the day. He walked toward Chin.
While Chin filled him in on the situation, Roman watched the state bomb squad bring in their equipment to disarm and neutralize the bomb. "Can you give us some insight on what we are dealing with mentally and if you have any intuition about where we might find him?"
Norman replied, "It sounds like the death of his girls has brought on a psychotic break. He's not thinking rationally right now."
"No shit, Doc. He sure as shit isn't. I've known Tom for going on ten years now. Never seen him like this. He was acting strange right after the girls died, but the Tom I know wasn't looking at me this morning."
"As to where he might go. He might want to be near or feel closer to the girls. I'd keep watch at the cemetery. You should also call the institute and have them beef up security."
Two black SUV's and a couple of vans pulled up, and Norman could practically smell Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Chin, noting their arrival, exclaimed, "Damn it all to hell! Which one of you ignert fucktards called in the Feds?"
One of the state troopers gave a satisfied smirk and then turned away.
"Sorry, Doc. Gotta go. Need to get out my Chapstick and grease up my lips to kiss ass on the big brass. Might as well get out the jelly too and get ready to bend over. Fuckamighty, I hate the Feds. My life just went in the toilet."
Tom Sworn had confiscated the weapons from the cruiser, hot wired a car, loaded the arms into the trunk, ditched the cruiser and taken off to hide out near the cemetery to be closer to his girls. All three of them. Christina had practically lived with them for years, so he had some part in raising her. She'd been buried not far from Alexa and Alyssa. He'd go visit them after dark. Right now he was just going to watch over their bodies. Somebody had to protect the girls of this town.
Tapping the barrel of the gun against his forehead, Tom began rocking back and forth as he sat in the car. Exhausted from the last few days, Tom fell asleep shortly thereafter despite his resolve to stay awake.
He woke later, as it was getting dark, and mentally berated himself for being so weak as to fall asleep. Grabbing his binoculars, he checked out the area to make sure it was clear, exited the vehicle, slipped his handgun into the back of his slacks and grabbed the rifle and a flashlight. The evening was still except for the crunch of the grass under his feet as he walked toward the girls' graves.
Kneeling down between the two graves, he laid the rifle down and began weeping softly, so softly that he didn't hear the noises at first. He quickly wiped his eyes, picked up his gun and turned off his flashlight.
The rustling sounds were coming from the slightly mounded dirt over Christina's grave. Tom got up and moved in closer to get a better view.
Muffled growls came from underneath the dirt as the flowers atop the grave began sliding down to the side. The mound raised slightly and then caved in on itself. A dark, clawed hand raised up, trying to gain purchase and finding only loose soil. There was another growl of frustration as dirt began flying.
Tom gulped and raised his rifle, pointing it at the figure emerging from the dirt. The claws found their purchase and a head rose up. He should have started firing but instead he removed one hand from the gun and turned on the flashlight.
It was the demon dog that everyone had talked about, except it wasn't a dog. It was a human-sized wolf with ears sticking straight up, light colored fur, perhaps white at one time, now blackened by the dirt, and razor sharp teeth. Saliva and some flesh-colored fluid was dripping from its maw. It's green eyes were bright as they fixed on him, and the creature snarled at him and then howled.
Tom dropped the flashlight, aimed his rifle and fired.
AN:
If this were an episode of Hemlock Grove, this song would be playing through the credits. David Guetta - She Wolf.