For Love of Evil - [Roman Godfrey/Hemlock Grove]

-16-

*
The sound of a baby's shrill cry echoed loudly in stark white oblivion. It appeared that Lyra could walk for miles and come to no end.

She turned, three-hundred-sixty degrees... nothing but white. She ran, trying to find the crying baby, unable to tell which direction it was coming from.

The cries were growing louder as Lyra looked left, then right. When she turned around, she saw Roman standing with his back turned.

He stood lean and tall, a glowing aura around him with his head tilted down. It looked as though he was holding something.

"Roman..." Lyra said, unaware if he had heard her over the loud cries of the baby.

Roman turned, his light eyes shining with blood covering his chin and lips. He smiled, and for the first time, Lyra saw that he looked truly happy.

Her mouth fell agape when seeing what it was Roman had been holding. A baby wrapped in a white towel, wailed in his hands.

"Peter told you to be careful." Roman smiled wide; the whiteness of his teeth gleamed behind the contrast of the blood covering the lower half of his face.
*

Lyra awoke in a panic, her chest moving up and down as she hyperventilated.

She wanted to cry; her heart pounded as sweat sleeked her forehead.

Disoriented from the nightmare, Lyra barely recalled getting out of bed as she sat at the dining room table, eating her bland oatmeal.

It took everything she had to force it down - her stomach in knots as she thought about the crying baby from the dream.

"There was another attack last night." Mary said, causing Lyra's eyes to shift from the bowl to her mother. "It's all over the news."

Lyra nodded, already knowing what had happened because of Roman's visit last night. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" Mary stepped around the table, sweeping Lyra's hair away from her face. "You're warm. I hope you're not catching something." Mary rested her elbows on the finished wood, gazing at her beautiful daughter with hurtful eyes. "I wish we'd never moved here. This place has really done a number on you."

"I'm fine." Lyra lied.

"Something's going on in this town. I think it's more than a coincidence the attacks happened under a full moon."

"You actually believe there's such a thing as werewolves?" Lyra tried to sway her mother's sudden belief.

Mary never believed in such things, despite being married to something supernatural - she was oblivious to it.

"Of course not, that's ridiculous." Mary stepped away from the table, making her way out of the dining room. "It's obviously a copycat. Someone's murdering these girls on a full moon, trying to make it look like a werewolf. There's a potential serial killer in this town, and it's hard to tell who it is... nothing but creeps live around here."

Lyra nodded, like she had any interest in roaming around at night with a werewolf (or as her mother believed) a potential copycat, serial killer.

She dropped her spoon in the bowl, pushing the mush away with a grimace. The dream had really taken a toll on her, causing a nauseating brew in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm gonna get ready for school." Lyra called out as she stood from the table.

Mary peeked her head in through the archway, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"You're actually going to school?"

"Well... yeah."

"I think you should stay home. After what happened last night and how terrible you look- what did Roman want?" Mary's question caused Lyra to stop in her tracks. She hadn't prepared an answer for that question.

"Um, just... you know, to talk. We kinda had a fight yesterday and he sorta apologized... in a Roman way." Lyra rolled her eyes at her own observation - Roman apologized for nothing.

"Hmm, first fight, huh. What'd he do?" Mary asked, her tone that of a "tisk-tisk." She sounded as though she already knew Roman had done something bad.

"Just being an asshole." Lyra shrugged, brushing off the conversation as she made her way up the stairs to get ready.

After brushing her hair and teeth, she threw on some decent clothes. She threw the strap of her bag over shoulder, stopping when reaching the door.

Any quick movement caused Lyra to lose her balance. The walls looked to be tilted, leaning inward as if it's only purpose was to suffocate her. Thick, salty bile rose to the back of her throat, her stomach aching in waves that felt like the stomach flu.

Lyra dropped her bag, moving as fast as her legs could carry her to the bathroom. She barely had time to close the door behind her as the contents of her breakfast spilled out of her mouth and into the toilet.

She fell to the floor, gathering all her strength to scoot closer to the porcelain bowl.

When she finally began to dry heave, Lyra sat back, resting against the tub. She was too weak to move, something so small as breathing seemed like a chore. She wondered if whatever she had Roman had as well, considering how often the two swapped bodily fluids.

The term "bodily fluids" brought on a startling revelation. Lyra couldn't think of the last time she had a period. She knew for certain it was before the move, but couldn't be sure as to when. It had been over a month, since before the first full moon, when Anita Parker was killed.

Lyra cleared her throat, holding the rim of the tub as she pulled herself up off the floor.

Scared was an understatement; Lyra wanted to sob at the terrifying reality of what possibly lied ahead - Upirs and Werewolves suddenly weren't so scary anymore. Perhaps that was the problem, those things had never scared her.