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unholyhelbiglinked · 6 years

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Pack Mentality | ONE

Her feet dug into the soft soil- the moisture almost cooling against hot and rigid skin. Every single inch of her body seemed to be coated in a mix of blood and dirt. It caked along her legs and tried to cover the already long and tender scratches that passing branches had made. Her breath was taking up most of her attention, heartbeat pounding roughly against the inner edge of her wrist.

A salty taste ran against her tongue- iron and metallic as the blood that was fortunate enough to make it into her mouth created a hardened edge on the corner of pursed lips. She was trying to catch her breath, trying to stop from hyperventilating.

It wasn’t working, her nails digging roughly into nearby bark that coated a tree to her right. She could feel the sting that the surface provided. The sensation reminded her of falling off a scooter or bike. The skin on her palms would tear away and leave a bloody mess for her mother to clean up later. It was all part of the learning process. But this? This was different.

The moonlight shown through thick boroughs of trees, there was never a break in the foliage. Everything looked green during the day but now it was pitch. Grace couldn’t find a way through, not with the pain eating away at her thigh.

She had seen things out here before. The beartraps and different game hunters were normal. They would often be captivated, too captivated to try a thing other than snap a few pictures. Their jaws would hang open and their breath would just fall short of stopping all together.

All was quiet now, her palms jolted against the wound as condensation from her frantic breath moved against velvet sky. The stars weren’t showing tonight, everything was empty and desolate. Grace could hear the sounds of a nearby road, cars were busy passing through the towns limits. Her towns limits.

Grace slowly peeled her hand away from the lesion. Syrupy liquid poured from the gaping hole that was now embedded in her skin. The unsavory burn of a hot blade seemed to rip through her like nothing she had ever felt before.

A slight growl moved past her lips as she hoisted herself away from the large tree that she was still leaning on. Every single inch of her body ached and begged for some type of relief. The cold of the night finally getting to her. The fabric of the fleece blanket that was wrapped around her naked body didn’t do much to curb the hypothermia that was sure to set in.

Grace continued her journey back home. The suburbs were a nasty place filled with peeping neighbors who were more interested in if people picked up their dog poop and kept their cars under the speed limit. They were sure to pull back sheer curtains and notice a barefoot girl limping home in the middle of the night.

The woods broke away easily enough, leading to a well-lit street. The bulbs of lamps would light up large golden circles like they were copying the moon that hung heavily against crush velvet. The teenage girl made sure to avoid them, not stepping anywhere that she was too visible. She stuck to the curbs, almost like a balancing act.

Her thoughts ran wild as the scent of motor oil filled her senses, her head snapping to the side as matted blonde hair fell into sharp and unwarranted eyes. The neon red and blue flashing lights that created odd shadows against large houses made her chest tighten. Her nails dug into her palms, the fabric of the blanket stopping her from doing any real damage.

The police car wasn’t a good sign, her footfalls stopping just short of another ring of light. There was no use in running, the pain was too immense. She had calmed down quite a bit, but still not enough to hone in on exactly what she needed to. She didn’t like her odds to much.

The breaks squeaked against the cold, a younger man behind the passenger side door didn’t even bother rolling down his window. Grace couldn’t see him well at first, eyes clouded from what was left of tears she refused to let fall.

He was good looking- his hair a chestnut brown. It was styled a five o’clock shadow taking up a stone cut jaw. His uniform was hugging his body a deep jacket with a sheriff’s logo was across his shoulders. It contrasted with the tan of his shirt and pants. Grace let her own shoulders drop.

“Grace?” The man took a step forward, wary. His shoes tapped against the ground as he let himself be seen against the light of the lamp. His deep blue eyes looked like they were almost glowing. It was ironic to the teenager. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

She didn’t’ answer him, sniffing instead as she averted her gaze. His accent was thick, so thick that she never understood his motives for coming to a new country only to become a small-town deputy in the middle of nowhere.

“You must be freezing.”

Grace didn’t answer once more but took notice to how fast he pulled his jacket from his own arms. He placed it over the blanket that was so torn and dirtied with whatever the forest floor had to offer. She flinched under the contact at first. Still scared. Still seething.

The coat was warm, though. Comforting. It smelled like him; gunpowder and aftershave. Everything about it was like home. That was exactly where she wanted to be right now. “You’ve never seen a walk of shame before?” She quipped.

“No, can’t say I have. I usually cook a girl breakfast and expect her to stay the night.” The man cracked a smile, shaking his head as he blew visible air out of his mouth as he carefully reached up and pulled a leaf from her mane of hair. “Not run off in the middle of the night through the woods.”

“What can I say, Mike?” She lifted her chin, “I don’t pick gentleman’s.”

“We need to get you home,” he said, not paying much mind to her comment as she let out a long and drawn out breath. He ignored that too, ushering her to the police car. She was lucky, happy to have a place to sit down.

Mike didn’t’ seem to notice her flinch as she bent her leg. The cab of the car was warm, goosebumps raising against her skin as she got used to the change in temperature. The other officer glanced back at her, deep olive eyes not shocked or deterred. “evening, Grace.”

“Hi, Barry.” She mumbled, watching as Mike sat back down in the passenger seat with a sigh. His counterpart seemed to stare at him for a few seconds before putting the car in drive. He had turned off the lights, not wanting to cause more of a stir in the small cul-de-sac. She was close enough to her house to walk the rest of the way, but she relented, hoping that she wouldn’t’ get blood on the seats.

Her dad was going to kill her if the searing pain in her leg didn’t’ first, but it was a good sign that the house was dark by the time the car pulled up along the curb. It loomed against the slowly turning horizon, her eyes burning from lack of sleep as the sun just barely threatened it’s appearance.

Mike pulled the door open, another blast of cold hitting her as she pulled herself away from the backseat in the most inconspicuous way possible. The young officer had his head cocked to the side as Grace handed him back his coat, thanking him in a mumbled voice as she started to walk towards the door.

He followed. She knew it was too easy. The walkway was lit nicely by small lanterns that would change color during Christmas to red and green. Right now they were a dull blue. The kind that some people used as headlights, even though that wasn’t really legal. Grace didn’t’ care much for legality at the moment.

Grace was shorter than Mike, he loomed over her as he rang the doorbell. The sound echoed against her ears and made her cringe It was loud and deafening, her whole entire body on edge as it shook from the cold and the fear. She watched carefully as her parents bedroom lit up, casting an odd glow against the lawn.

She sucked in a breath as her fathers loud footfalls banged and clattered. He hated being disturbed this late. She hated disturbing him at all. But when the door creaked open, there was a look of worry. Not one of malice. Not yet.

He was a wise man with deep and kind eyes. A beard was trimmed, grey streaking through something that used to be brown. A deep white t-shirt hugged his sides, a few faded tattoo’s were etched into his large biceps. He reminded Grace of a bear.

“I’m sorry to disturb you this late, Sir.” Mike said with little confidence, making the girl to his side watch him carefully. Most people crumbled under her fathers gaze. “Grace here was walking down Willowdale.”

The mans eyes moved towards his daughters before moving back to the officer. They were kind and unrelenting all at once. “Thank you, Mike. I can take it from here. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Sir,” He nodded, squeezing Grace’s shoulder softly before turning and walking back to the squad car. The young girl almost didn’t want him to leave. He had a warming presence, one that was immediately shattered by the clearing of her dad’s throat. He had stepped aside, allowing her into the foyer.

Her mom was leaning against the banister halfway up the stairs, her deep eyes filled with worry as the man behind her let out a long sigh before closing the door. Light was streaming clearly through the place at this point, Grace leaning heavily against the wall. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand at his point.

“You’re bleeding,” Her mom took a few steps down the stairs, her socks padding against the hardwood floor.

“What happened?” Her dad asked, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He was frustrated, voice a low snarl.

“I was ambushed.” She drew in a shaky breath. “They came out of nowhere. Five, maybe six of them. I don’t know.”

Grace pressed her fingers against the edge of her hairline, careful not to let the blanket fall. Her mom walked past her husband and daughter, heading towards the kitchen. Grace assumed she was searching for a first aid kit, maybe even grasping a glass of water.

“They were experienced. Not like the game hunters that hang around these parts. They had something more. Agility maybe. But I couldn’t keep up the fight- not with them surrounding me like that.”

“You were alone?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. The pitch in his voice changed. She could tell that more than enough thoughts were running through his head, but a streak of anger pushed through. “This is why we run in pairs, Grace. Not because you’re a child. Or because I’m strict. Because of this.”

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” Grace spoke quickly.

“It can always happen.” Her dad stepped closer, making her push harder against the wall as she watched his facial expression contort in rage. “There is always a possibility that you won’t be strong enough to hold out as long as you did. To run as fast as you did.”

Grace stayed quiet. Every ounce of argument that she had left within her was slowly dulling. She knew her dad was right, even if he had such an alpha way of explaining things to her. She had known the rules since she was young, but things had been quiet. They had always been quiet until tonight.

“Hey,” he grasped her shoulder, making her flinch. The touch wasn’t pressing too hard, or startling to her. He wanted to draw her attention, and it worked. Her mother was coming to sense in the corner of her eye. The teenager could clearly make out the white cloth that she grasped in her hands. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

She nodded, wishing that she had the liberty to squeeze past her parents and dash up the stairs to a hot shower. She wasn’t even sure if she could do that with the damage done right above her kneecap. The blonde had her shoulders squared, trying not to show any pain, trying to conceal the weakness.

“your leg must be bothering you.” Her mother saw right through her, handing her the cloth.

“This will take longer to heal. A day or two at the max.” Her dad spoke thoughtfully. “Go upstairs. Get cleaned up, you have school in an hour.”

“Dad,” Grace objected, fully believing that she could take the day off. She didn’t know if she could sit through calculous on a half hour of sleep and a bum leg. There were enough people in that damned building that would notice how damaged she was, and none of them were afraid to keep it to themselves.

He held his large hand out in front of him, cutting her off in her tracks. “Go upstairs, I need to make some calls.”

She nodded, saddened and pained. She didn’t’ dare speak out against him again though, his pure authority pouring through every inch of the situation. Grace knew these calls would lead to more trouble than solution.

The only people worth calling this early were expecting their phone to ring at any second.

#GraceHelbig #MamrieHart #mace #fanfiction

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unholyhelbiglinked · 7 years

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House Call | Mace

Her stomach churned as she stood in front of the large oak door. Its frame was protruding a little too much, making the cement porch seem smaller than it really was. It was boxed in with American Winterberry's on either side.

No matter where Grace stepped, she would back into the large shrubbery, the pointed leaves digging into her exposed skin. There wasn't much of that, compared to the uniform that she wore. It was tight, the black pants and pleated long sleeve shirt doing nothing against the cold.

Music pressed past the paneling of the large Victorian house. Some techno beat the shook most of the foundation. She heard the sound before she even got out of her squad car. It was no wonder someone had called in a noise complaint.

Grace readjusted her stance before knocking on the hollow door. The familiar anxiety arose in her. This was just routine, a call she had gotten right at the end of her 14-hour shift. She was tired, ready to park her car and crawl into bed for a well awaited rest.

She stepped back, waiting a few seconds before the light from inside the house poured out. It was a deep amber as it cast its shadow against the white dusting of snow. Grace's breath left her quickly as it formed in thick condensation in front of her.

The woman who stood in front of her wore a sloppy grin. One that stood out against bright painted lips. She was tall, almost as tall as Grace. Her hair a deep crimson against the very light that cascaded behind her. Her skin was pale and clear, features sharp and eyes a deep green.

Stunning.

Was all Grace could think. She just stood there for a few seconds, trying to make words out as the woman lifted an eyebrow her way and parted her lips slightly. "Ma'am, I'm here about a noise complaint."

The woman's smirk deepened, her cheeks turning a bright red. "Well," she leaned against the doorframe, her simple white shirt riding up against the grey sweatpants. "You're not exactly what I was expecting. But come on in."

She stepped aside, the music having dulled in itself as soon as Grace had knocked on the door. Her boots pressed against the wooden floor, making an odd hollow sound. There seemed to be some type of bachelorette party going on, pink streamers and oxygen filled balloons littered the wooden floors in the hallway and into the living room.

Grace kept her thumbs hooked on her belt as the door shut behind her. That eerie feeling rushing back. The same one she got on every single call she attended to. She followed the stranger into the sitting area.

A few women sat around the room lazily. Alcohol was spread across the room. Each bottle in a different stage of being devoured. There was half eaten plates of food and even more of those tacky pink balloons. The officer had just noticed the words written across them in a dull white.

'Hannah & Ella'

A pink sash was across who she assumed was Hannah, the pin saying her name was attached to her upper shoulder. She was beaming, her smile wide and genuine as she lifted her chin towards Grace.

"So," The stranger crossed her arms over her chest "Do you have your own routine, or do you just go with the flow?"

"Ma'am?" Grace cocked an eyebrow, confusion working its way through her mind. The red headed vixen seemed like the only sobered up one here. A few other girls staring a bit longingly at the woman in uniform.

"Please, call me Mamrie." She got as a response. Mamrie was an odd name, but Grace didn't dwell on it too long, with the subtle touch she got on her upper arm. She almost melted, her throat dry.

"Okay," Grace sounded out, "Well, Mamrie. There was a noise complaint from one of your neighbors. I've been asked to tell you to keep it down."

"Oh?" The woman bit her lip slightly, making Grace knit her eyebrows together. She had seen uniforms bring out certain emotions for both sexes, but this was a little much. "Are you going to have to arrest me?"

The girls in the room laughed drunkenly, making the officer shift her gaze to them, almost desperately. She was confused, but the intoxicated party goers seemed harmless overall. Mamrie was close to her, the scent of lavender thick in her lungs.

"No, ma'am-"Grace spoke "I mean Mamrie. But I am going to have to ask for you to turn down the music."

"Wow, she is really into character." One of the woman on the couch said lazily, staring down at her phone screen. It shaded her features in an odd but alluring way. She was scrolling through what looked like twitter, her energy for the night dimming.

"Character?" Grace looked around, staring at all the woman that sat around the room. Especially the one that was undeniably close to her. The one that suddenly had her hand lower than Grace's belt now. Her mouth dry as she stared into deep Irish eyes. "I think there's been some kind of mistake."

Mamrie pushed herself closer to the girl, the alcohol hot on her breath as she smirked. "What kind of a mistake?"

The officer cleared her throat awkwardly. "The kind where I'm a real cop, responding to a call put in by one Miss Livingston next door."

The red head that had her fingers tightly wrapped around the woman's waist quickly halted, pulling her head away from Graces neck. Her cheeks were flushed an even brighter pink as the girls tried to stifle their intoxicated laughter.

"uh, um." Mamrie stumbled back a bit, her red lipstick a bit smeared upon her fair skin. It made Grace smirk a bit. "Wow, I am so sorry."

She seemed to sober up almost instantly as she ran a hand through her hair, warping her arms tightly around her mid-section before both girls stared towards the stereo. The music had been turned down the by bride to be herself.

"That's enough embarrassment for one night, don't you think Mames?" The blonde asked, lifting an eyebrow. She earned a hasty nod from the woman.

"Right, yes. Couldn't agree more." She pulled at her collar slightly. "Is there anything else, officer?"

"No, I don't believe so." Grace scratched the back of her neck before her eyes flashed towards the woman who had shut the music off. "Congratulations."

She mumbled a thank you with a halfhearted smile before Mamrie shuffled back towards the foyer. Grace followed reluctantly, face burning a bright red. She could almost feel the trail of touch Mamrie had left- even through her uniform.

The cold was quick to press against Grace as she walked back out onto the illuminated porch, a light layer of snow littering the sky. She was used to the chill by now, Mamrie hugging her arms closer to her body.

"Sorry about that, again," Mamrie said, a bit timidly.

"It's okay, It happens more often than not." Grace tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, glancing towards the girl. "I uh, I lied earlier. There is something else I need."

"Oh?" Mamrie lifted her chin, biting her lip slightly. "What would that be?"

Grace let out a small scoff, her breath still forming in front of her. "Your number."

#GraceHelbig #MamrieHart #Mace #oneshot #fanfiction

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