Chapter 21 Hellsing
HELLSING
Grace was gone.
Bael sat in her chair and occupied her body. I felt it in how the air shifted. The tension in the room felt heavy and wrong, the way it always did when a demon settled in deep and stopped hiding.
Her head hung forward. Her hair fell over her face. The candlelight threw hard shadows around the circle. The spilled water from the bowl soaked into the boards, spreading in a slow dark stain.
“Everybody out,” I said.
My voice came out flat and hard, cutting through the last of Seraphine’s chant.
Hoax jerked his head toward me. Bullet immediately had a response for me, and Ajax stood in the doorway with his hands braced on the frame. Josh hovered near the edge of the circle, eyes locked on Grace.
“The fuck you mean out?” Ajax snapped. “We’re not going anywhere. That thing, whatever it is, will have to go through us first.”
“Oh, and it will,” I approached him, getting to toe with him and pressing my finger on his chest. “It will latch on to you, breaking you open from the inside and tearing your soul apart.”
Ajax brushed my hand away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“This is my exorcism,” I said. “I will not fight him in four bodies at once. Get out.”
“I’m not leavin’ you in here alone,” Bullet said. “We just watched that thing choke you through her. You think I’m walkin’ away from that?”
“You heard him,” Hoax added. “We’re your backup. That is Jameson’s rule. We do not leave our own behind.”
“I’m not askin’,” I said. “I am telling you. He already tasted me. He knows my weaknesses. He will go for you next just to piss me off, or to hurt me. You all stay; you hand him leverage. You walk; you give me one less thing to worry about.”
Josh stepped in closer instead of backing up.
“I am not leaving Grace,” he said. “You told me to watch her. You told me to keep her in my sight.”
“You did your job, kid.” I spoke. “And you did a good job. These guys will take care of you for me if I don’t return.”
“Return from where?” Bullet asked.
“From Hell,” Hoax gave a whispered response, his eyes steady on me because he knew every intricate detail of what I could do.
“You know what you need to do,” I spoke only to him. “Get them out of here.”
Ajax shook his head. “You are not the only one with skin in this,” he said. “Those sigils mean somethin’ to us all, we are all protected.”
“Not anymore. You wanna argue while he’s settlin’ deeper in my girl?” I asked. “You wanna stand there and watch him pull her apart from the inside because your pride is sore?”
His jaw worked.
“We stay,” Bullet said again. “End of story.”
I turned to him and stepped close enough that he had to tip his head up to meet my eyes.
“I swear to you, brother,” I said. “If you stay in this room, you give him a new toy. He will wear you like a jacket, and he will make you help him kill her. Then he will use your hands on every person you love. You want that on your conscience? You wanna wake up with her blood under your nails because you thought you needed to play hero?”
Bullet’s mouth pressed into a thin line. The color drained from his face. His fist crushed the neck of the beer bottle he still held. Glass cracked.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Hoax looked between us, then at Grace, still slumped in the chair, shoulders rising and falling in slow, unnatural breaths.
Josh’s throat bobbed. “Let me help. I will do whatever the fuck I have to as long as that thing doesn’t get out…”
“He will not get out,” I said. “Not tonight, not ever.”
“You sure about that?” Ajax muttered.
“No,” I said. “But I will die before I let him past that line. Now get out. Please.”
They heard the crack in that last word. I did too.
Ajax cursed under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Fine,” he said. “But if you die, I’m going to go after that thing myself…”
I pressed my hand on his shoulder. “I don’t doubt it, my friend.”
Bullet stepped forward, clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezed once hard enough to bruise, then let go.
“You better walk out of here breathin’, Hellsing,” he said. “You hear me?”
“I hear you,” I said.
Hoax gave me one last look and then hooked his arm around Josh’s neck, pulling him toward the door. Josh fought him for two steps, then gave in, shooting Grace a last, helpless glance.
The door shut behind them. The lock turned and their footsteps slowly faded.
The shop went quiet and only Seraphine stayed.
She moved around the circle, checking the salt, reinforcing the chalk. Her face was pale under the white wig. Sweat beaded at her hairline. The white contacts in her eyes made her look inhuman, but there was nothing demonic in her. Only focus.
“I told you to clear the room,” I said.
She looked up at me, brows lifting.
“Grace is my sister,” she said. “By blood and by choice. I am warded. You know that. I am not leaving her or you in here with this thing alone.”
“Wards crack,” I said. “Bael is old. He finds the seams.”
“So am I,” she said. “And I know where to reinforce. I am staying, Peter. You can argue with me or you can use me. I prefer the second.”
My hands curled into fists, then loosened.
“What did you lay on yourself?” I asked.
She tugged the collar of her dress aside and showed me the ink that curled over her collarbone. Not just ink. Raised scars. Old burns. A lattice of protective sigils cut and branded into her skin.
“Layered,” she said. “My mother started the work. I finished it. Circle of binding. Circle of reflection. Anything that pushes at my mind hits the wards first. It will hurt, but it will not break me. I can hold his attention while you work. I can anchor her.”
I hated that she was right.
“All right,” I said. “You stay. You do not cross the salt. You do not touch the water unless I tell you. You feel him slip past your wards for more than a heartbeat; you let go. You do not martyr yourself. Understood?”
“Understood,” she said.
I knelt at the edge of the circle.
Grace sat in the chair, head bowed, hands loose in her lap. The mark on her skin pulsed faintly under her shirt, a steady dull glow that made the air taste sour.
“Bael,” I said. “You wanted my attention. You got it. You talk to me now. You do not cower behind her silence.”
Her head lifted and her eyes met mine. Her irises were a dark, flat black, the color swallowing what should have been a deep rich brown. Her lips curled in that twisted smile looking creepy on her pretty features.
“You do not give orders here,” he said through her mouth. “You crawl around this little city with your beads and your water, and you think that changes anything.”
“It is about to,” I said.
I drew a small knife from my belt and sliced my left palm, shallow but enough to draw a line of blood.
I let it drip into the water that still pooled in the bowl I had set back upright.
From my bag, I added salt. I added ash. I added a pinch of dust from an old church floor in Baton Roug that was sacred, e and a sliver of bone from a graveyard outside Lafayette.
I stirred it with my finger and whispered the names I had collected over the years. Demons I had bound. Spirits I had sent on. Every success. Every failure. Every lesson.
I dipped my thumb into the mix and drew a sigil on Grace’s forehead, right over Seraphine’s handprint.
She hissed. The sound came from deep in her chest. Her head jerked back. The mark sizzled against her skin, faint but real.
“This is how it starts,” I said quietly. “I call your name. I call His name. I call her name. I strip away every lie you wrapped around her. I remind her of who she is and who you are. You do not own her.”
Bael laughed. “She is already mine,” he said. “You touch her and you touch me. You cross that line and I will crush your witch’s mind first so you can hear the sound she makes as you lose everything.”
Seraphine stepped to the other side of the chair, laying both hands on Grace’s shoulders. The wards on her skin flared under her dress in a faint red line.
“Come and try,” she said.
“You forget,” I said. “I’ve been inside your mind, demon. Just as much as you’ve been in mine. I remember your weaknesses, Bael. And I do not give a fuck about your pain.”
Taking out the book of rites, The Roman Ritual, and I began the exorcism. I spoke the old words, the ones the Church gave me, Every line was a command. Every word was a nail in his coffin.
I did not shout. I did not plead. I simply told the demon exactly what was going to happen to it.
“You are not welcome in this flesh,” I said. “You are not welcome in this world. You will be bound. You will be cast out. You will be chained. By the authority above you and the will in front of you, you will let this child go.”
Grace’s body tensed against the chair. Her fingers curled. The wood creaked under her grip. Her head snapped from side to side as if something inside her twisted and pulled.
Seraphine grunted and from my peripheral I could see she was having a reaction. Her jaw clenched, her eyes slid shut, and she braced her feet against the floor. The wards on her collarbone burned brighter, pushing back against the pressure that slammed into her mind.
I saw the power hit. Her nose started to bleed, and a thin line of red rolled over her lips, her breath sharpening.
“Stay with me, Sera,” I said without breaking the flow of the words. “You said you could hold.”
“I can,” she said, teeth clenched. “He…hits…hard.”
Bael snarled through Grace’s mouth.
“You dare shield her from me?” he said. “You dare block my view? I will peel your wards off your bones.”
I kept going. The candles burned lower. Wax puddled on the counter. The air grew hot and close. The sigils in the circle glowed faintly.
The pressure in the room climbed. It hit my ears, my eyes, and the back of my skull. It pressed on my chest.
Grace suddenly jerked upright, eyes wide, back arched against the chair.
Her voice came out deeper, layered.
“Enough,” Bael roared. “You want me, Exorcist, you have me. Call all the little names you want. They do not hear you. They do not care. You are alone!”
The front door suddenly burst open.
The wards over the frame flared, but someone had already keyed themselves in.
“Where is she?” Virgil shouted. “Peter!”
I spun around so fast my vision blurred. He stood in the doorway, coat flared, hair damp with sweat, eyes wild. He had a rosary wrapped around one fist and a knife in his other hand. He looked past me toward the circle and saw Grace.
His face crumpled. “No,” I said.
My voice broke out of the ritual for the first time. “Virgil, get out. Now. Out.”
He stepped forward instead. “I warned you he’d come back,” he said, voice rough. “You think I am stayin’ on the sidelines while he wears my baby?”
“Virgil, you step over that line, and he will go for you,” I said. “You know his taste. You know he wants to gloat. Do not give him the chance.”
Bael laughed through Grace’s mouth. The sound filled the shop. Low at first, then higher, more pleased.
“Peter,” he said. “You invited a guest. You did not tell me the old man would join us.”
Virgil froze just short of the salt. “Bael,” he said. “You son of a bitch.”
Grace’s head turned toward him. Bael smiled with her lips.
“I told you I would return,” he said. “You kept your promise. You brought me such a gift. Your firstborn. You wrapped her up and dropped her at his feet, and he opened the door for me. Thank you.”
Virgil stepped closer. He nearly shook with rage.
“Fuck you, you piece of shit,” he said. “I will see you in Hell.”
“You will,” Bael said.
His hand rose. He did not move from the chair. He did not lift his arm high. He just curled his fingers and Virgil’s body jerked off the floor.
He rose into the air, boots dangling. The knife dropped from his hand and hit the boards with a dull thud. The rosary slipped from his fingers and swung on his wrist.
His eyes went wide. His hands clawed at his throat, trying to tear away invisible fingers.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Bael, you want me, you take me. Leave him!”
Bael ignored me. He turned Grace’s face toward Virgil and tilted her head.
“You warned me once,” he said through her. “You told me you would hunt me. You failed. Now you watch me finish what I started. A debt repaid.”
Virgil’s gaze locked on Grace. For one second, I saw his daughter there. Not the demon. Not the mark. Just a father looking at his child.
“I love…” he started.
Bael twisted his fingers, and Virgil’s neck snapped. The sound was sharp and final.
His body dropped and he hit the floor in a heap, limbs at wrong angles, his eyes still open.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then I crossed the circle.
The salt burned my boots, but I did not stop. I dropped to my knees beside him and lifted his head into my hands.
His skin cooled fast under my fingers. His eyes stared past me. Everything that made him Virgil had already gone.
“I told you to stay away, old man,” I said. My voice came out broken. Tears blurred my sight. “I told you. You stubborn bastard.”
My thumb brushed his brow. My chest ached so bad I could barely breathe. The ritual lay shattered behind me. Seraphine staggered under the backlash. The demon watched us with Grace’s eyes.
Bael smiled. “You break so easily,” he said. “You gather stray souls, you call them family, and I take them away. You keep giving me such pretty toys.”
Something in me tore. The grief twisted into something else. Rage.
I lowered Virgil’s head gently to the floor and stood. My vision narrowed to Grace and the thing inside her.
“You wanted my anger,” I said. “You wanted my desperation. You got it.”
The mark on Grace’s skin pulsed harder. Blackness moved under her eyes, spreading in thin lines. The air shook around her.
“Come then,” Bael said. “Show me your power, exorcist. Show me why they whisper your name in the lower halls.”
I stepped back into the circle, right through the burned line of salt, and stood in front of her.
I wiped my own blood from my palm across my chest in a rough sigil. I spoke words I had never said out loud anywhere but in my head. Old promises. Old bargains. The first time I had stood in a room with a demon and decided not to run.
Heat rose off my skin and the wards in the circle flared, reacting to the new current.
I slammed my hand against Grace’s sternum, right over the mark.
Power surged through my arm hitting Bael like a charge.
“Time to go to hell, fucker.”