Wolf Got Your Tongue? (A Hemlock Grove fanfiction #JustWriteIt.)

Chapter 29

Peter cautiously stepped out into the car park. A bright crescent moon was shining overhead and the night air was perfectly clear; sharp with the tang of the pines that huddled over by the lonesome hill a way away from the prison, and the smell of blood lingering like an old man gasping for his last breaths. Peter looked down on an instinct. On the tarmac below him was a single spot of blood, placed almost perfectly so that it was almost aesthetic. As the wind blew a cold gust of anticipation into him, his head snapped up and he gazed into the shadows. Was that... a person?

The tall, skinny figure stepped out; as pale as a vampire and dressed like a businessman in a blazer, and with his hair slicked back. Roman looked immensely pleased with himself. For a second, neither boy said anything. Peter was considering knocking Roman out, stealing the car and then legging it, but then-

"Sheeit!" Both boys happily embraced each other and jumped up and down like teenage fangirls at a One Direction concert.

"This is perfect!" Roman grabbed Peter's shoulders excitedly. "My car is just around the corner."

Roman led Peter to the old motor car, which was sitting alone in the car park, gleaming like recently spilled blood in the spotlight of the moon. "By the way, I don't want to know what you did with the guards," Peter said, jumping into the Jaguar.

"Most of them just needed a little... persuasion," Roman smiled to himself. Peter presumed that meant that he had used his freaky mind powers on them... apart from one of them, who Roman must have used more than a little violence on to produce that blood spot.

The car park gate was open, lazily drifting across the tarmac like an iron ghost, and the car shot through it like a bullet from a gun. Peter turned in his seat and watched the prison recede in the background.

"You know, I left the key in the lock," Peter said with a grin. Roman turned to him.

"Wait- seriously?"

"Eh- I might of well have, right?"

Roman chuckled. "Yeah, might of well have. So, I didn't ask the other day... how was prison life?"

As Peter gave Roman an unforgiving look, the other boy barked out a laugh that was soon stolen by the infernal winds whipping around them and into Peter's thin jumpsuit. "Hey- want a blanket?" Roman reached into the back seat, and his hand closed upon a tartan blanket, much like the one they had used on the night of Christina's murder to hide Roman's battleaxe.

"You know, Shelley was hiding in the back of the car that night," Roman said as he handed Peter the blanket. "She called the police." Peter shivered- not with the cold, but with the knowledge of Shelley's betrayal. But still, she couldn't have known what Christina truly was.

"And Letha heard you telling me about the vargalf, and she told Dr Chasseur," Roman continued. "She didn't know we would be there. It was a disaster, wasn't it?" Peter laughed.

As they drove off into the night, the trees onthe path beside them whispered of an infinite future and an immortal lifetime; eventhough Peter had no clue where they were going, he didn't care. He looked up atthe moon, and smiled.