Epilogue Two
EPILOGUE TWO
GRACE
29 Years Later…Present Day
New Orleans never sleeps, especially not in the French Quarter where my shop, Midnight Wytch , sits in the middle of all the frenzy. The scent of sage and incense mingles with the smell of spilt bourbon from last night's festivities, and the first rays of morning light creep through the windows, casting long shadows on the spell jars, herbs, and old books lining the shelves. I've always liked the electrical energy here; it keeps my mind from wandering too much.
Owning a witch shop in New Orleans should be enough to keep anyone busy, but that's not all I've inherited. Being the daughter of an exorcist and An empathic tattoo artist with a psychic streak means life was never simple. Add the fact that I'm also an RBMC princess— Royal Bastards royalty—and things get messy fast.
Which is probably why my parents decided to send a babysitter after I got into a bit of trouble with the Bloody Scorpions.
Trouble .
I scoff just thinking about it. It wasn't that bad. I handled myself just fine, but apparently, the club and Jameson wasn't too happy about it. So now, I'm stuck with a biker babysitter I never asked for, one I really don't want.
Hellsing.
The sound of his boots against the old wooden floorboards makes me tense up before I even look up. He sauntered like he owns the place, all lean muscle and sharp attitude. That weathered brown leather cowboy hat casts a shadow over those bright blue eyes of his, and a toothpick rolls lazily between his lips, flashing a little bit of tongue as if the world's his playground. He was wearing my father's long brown leather overcoat with the RBMC patch on the right arm, subtle but enough to make people think twice about crossing him.
And damn if the man wassn't gorgeous—dark curls falling to just below his neckline, he had sharp nose, thick beard over a hard chiseled jaw—but his attitude was enough to make me want to hex him into the nearest swamp.
He leaned against the counter, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Well, ain't this cozy. You runnin' a little love spell business now, Grace?"
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest as I glare at him. "I don't need to sell love spells to morons. But I could whip one up to make you disappear."
His grin widens, that lazy Louisiana drawl dripping with sarcasm. "Now, darlin', that's no way to talk to the man sent here to protect your pretty little ass. You oughta be thanking me. I could be out ridin', but instead, I'm stuck here babysittin'."
" Babysitting ?" I snort, flicking a strand of dark auburn hair over my shoulder. "Last I checked, I'm a grown woman. Don't need some cowboy with a death wish followin' me around. Go play pretend outlaw somewhere else, Hellsing."
His eyes flash with amusement, a spark of something darker lay beneath, sending a hot thrill down my spine. He took a step closer, the scent of leather and amber clung to him, and I refused to let him see the way my heart skipped a beat from is proximity.
"Pretend, huh?" His voice dropped low as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes slowly roaming over me, lingering a little too long on my cleavage.
"Careful, Grace. You wouldn't want to piss off the wrong outlaw."
I arch a brow, refusing to back down. "Or what? You'll sic your Prez on me?"
The smirk on his lips faded just a fraction. "Nah, sweetheart. If I have to handle you, I'll do it myself. Up close and personal."
There's something dangerous in his tone, and my pulse races against my will. But I won't let him see that. Instead, I lean in, close enough that my breath brushes his cheek. "You wouldn't last five minutes with me, Hellsing."
He's close now, too close, and I hate how aware I am of him. The heat radiating off his body, the slow roll of the toothpick between his teeth. "Five minutes, huh?" His voice is low, taunting. "Sounds like a challenge, princess. You gonna try me?"
I grit my teeth, hating how much I want to slap that cocky smirk off his face. Or maybe kiss it off. Damn him. "I don't have time to deal with your ego. So how about you go play biker somewhere else and let me run my business in peace?"
Chuckling, he turned to play with a jar on one of the shelves. That deep, rick, infuriating sound sent heat rightvdown to my core.
"Oh, I ain't goin' anywhere, Grace. You're stuck with me, gorgeous, like it or not. Bloody Scorpions want a piece of you, and I'm here to make sure they don't get it."
I roll my eyes again, turning back to my potions, ignoring how good he looks in that worn leather jacket. "Please, Hellsing. I can handle myself. I don't need some arrogant prick watching over me."
But as I say it, something shifts in the air around us. The light in the shop flickers and dims and the temperature drops suddenly. I freeze, every instinct screaming that something's wrong. Hellsing stiffens beside me, his body tensing, and I know he senses it too.
Before I can react, a dark energy crashes into the shop, shattering the glass on the shelves, sending books and jars flying. My heart races, and I spin around, ready to face whatever the hell just came through my door. But Hellsing's already moving.
He grabs me by the arm, pulling me toward the back of the shop. "Get behind me," he growls, his voice all business now.
I resisted for a second, but the look in his eyes makes my stomach drop. His usual smugness is gone, replaced with something fierce and protective.
"What the hell is happening?" I demand, panic rising in my chest.
"I don't know yet," he mutters, his eyes scanning the room. And then, just like that, his body buckles, stumbling forward as if something invisible struck him. He drops to his knees, breathing hard, and when he looks up at me, his bright blue eyes are wide with pain. But it's the fear in them that stops me cold.
I kneel beside him, my heart hammering in my chest. I slid my hands over his face. "Hellsing, what's going on?"
He gritted his teeth, his voice strained, and only one word escaped his lips.
" Run ."