Okay...First Warning: This IS my first draft of what would basically be the end of The Devil Has Blue Eyes. Second Warning: There is ONE instance of harsh language. Again, let me remind you that this is the devil...and he is a naughty boy and I can't argue with him. ;) Third Warning: Something is subtly implied and I apologize if I offend anyone! Also, I couldn't ignore this when it came to me and as promised I am posting things as soon as I write them. The Devil Has Blue Eyes was originally meant to be a part of the Sight world as an addition to Nick's character, but it has turned into a set up for Sight. You more than likely won't understand how from this, but that's just fine. ;) You're meant to be left guessing. The answer wouldn't be revealed until Sight. So that's that. No complaining. XP
Enjoy! Playlist
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I couldn't let this go on anymore.
I ran up to the two of them, pulling the father away from Nick.
"Leave me be child!" he protested.
I didn't stop or comment.
"He has gained control of your mind!" he turned on me now. Putting his hands around my neck.
"Free this child from…" he began to chant. I just looked at him. It did nothing to me as it had done to Nick.
The father stopped mid sentence and stared at me, there was some realization in his eyes. He knew there was nothing wrong with me.
Without a word, the father dropped his hands, then ran out of sight.
I turned to Nick panting on the ground, seething profanities through his teeth when he could.
The closer I got the more blood seemed to appear everywhere. Nick was covered in it, but especially on his chest.
He was trying to stand and I bent down, reaching out to help him.
He swatted my hand away with enough force to send me reeling back a few steps. He managed to get on his feet, but a second later stumbled, falling toward the ground again. I managed to catch him and he fell against me, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
"Don't fight me." I whispered.
My apartment was much closer than The Styx was from here, so that's where I took him.
It was late enough that no one was in the lobby, though it was odd that Stan wasn't either. A moan escaped Nick's lips and I hurried to the elevator.
Once in the apartment I knew that I couldn't adequately attend him on the couch. I drug him to the bedroom, finally feeling the weight of him after all this time.
After a few minutes, Nick was on his back, his destroyed shirt was gone and his chest was just as shredded. It was only now that I realized I had no idea how to help him.
His breath was becoming shallower, the color draining from his face, and the blood didn't stop.
He was dying. Somehow I knew it even though it didn't make sense. He had no body to injure, to die in, yet I was still struck with fear for his life.
I…didn't want him to die. The thought of him ceasing to exist was almost unfathomable. I wasn't sure if the world would be thrown into chaos, its balance lost, or if peace would reign, but that didn't seem to matter.
With no other clear choice in front of me, I fell to my knees. My head hit the mattress my hands clasped together and I began to pray.
No matter how much I prayed, there was something more to say, something else poured out of my mouth nearly silently as I pleaded with God for his Forsaken Son's life.
"You…You are…a pitiful…sight…to behold." I looked up to see Nick his head turned toward me kneeling next to him. His eyes burning.
Nick's voice had sounded strange, I guessed he'd had some damage to his lungs.
He continued to wheeze. "What the fuck did you think…praying for me was going to do, huh?"
I stood, ignoring him, and went to the closet in the hall, grabbing a few soft towels.
I set them on the bed as he sat himself up. "You really aren't as smart as you look." He called me some name in Spanish that I didn't understand, his voice clearer now.
I went to the kitchen and got a large bowl and filled it with warm water as he yelled from the room, "He would never help me. Oh no, I'm not the favorite."
I carried the bowl back to the room and set it on the floor. I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to get him on his back once again.
"Stop!" he fused. "What the hell are you doing? You're only going to make it worse!"
I put my hand over his mouth, looking him in the eyes. "Nick, shut up and lay down."
His expression fell, the anger gone, shock in his place, and then he obeyed.
"Thank you." I said, kneeling again.
I took the towels and put them in the warm water, then I put them to his chest, wiping off the blood as gently as I could.
He hissed, but didn't complain.
A few minutes later he spoke up again. "Why are you helping me?" he wasn't angry or accusing, but humbly curious. I stared at him a moment almost not recognizing his voice, never having heard it used that way.
Nick's eyes were bright and swimming with something I hadn't seen before. I looked away quickly.
"I don't think He'd damn me for showing a bit of kindness, even to you." I answered.
"You'd be surprised." He muttered, laying his head back, closing his eyes, a look of sadness on his face. "It won't do any good, anyway."
"You aren't going to die." I said sternly.
"If He wants me dead, which I know He does, I will be one way or another."
I shook my head, the pity building inside. "No matter what you've done, I doubt he wants to kill you."
Despite his state, his hand flashed out and grabbed my wrist harshly. "You don't get it, you stupid girl! I AM the evil in this world. I AM sin!"
He released my arm and sat back again. "And that…" he looked away solemnly, "is unforgivable."
"You're wrong." I said quietly.
Nick laughed. It was harsh and stinging, but I continued.
"You are angry, jealous, and just plain spiteful."
He was about to interrupt when I spoke over him, my voice rising.
"You're just angry because daddy didn't like your idea! Which wasn't the best idea, but I believe your intentions were good. At least at first."
I squeezed the towel in my hands and the bloodied water seeped through my fingers.
"But you just-had to throw a tantrum and mess up everything."
I looked up at him, he seemed shocked though his eyes were frowning. "But if you would just let go of these thousands of years of pent up anger, you could-"
I was stopped by Nick's hand over my mouth. He sat up slowly, putting his arm around my waist and searching my eyes.
"Shut-up." He whispered, then moved his hand to the side of my face and brought my lips to his.
It was quick, barely more than a peck, soft and hardly there. Yet it was still more there than his harshest kiss. He pulled back and hesitated, waiting for me to respond, to give permission.
I was frozen in place, not sure what to do or what I was feeling. Nick took my hand and put it to his chest and a heart beat under my hand beneath warm skin.
I looked to see that the blood was gone as was the wound, all that remained was a shining scar.
"Thank you."
I almost didn't hear it and I wasn't sure he had intended me to.
I brought my face back up with his though I couldn't bring myself to look anywhere other than his lips.
"You're welcome." I whispered, then with a breath I kissed him back.
It was timid at first, but slowly built as did the fire inside me. He was real in my hands, his fingers hot against my skin and I knew I was giving in, but it seemed right.
The next morning came as I knew it would. My apartment was cold and I was alone.
Nick was gone. The game was over and he had won.
Still, I didn't regret what I had done.
I walked into the church, it was nearly evening, the perfect hour with the sun pouring into the North-Eastern windows creating soft cascading pillars of light glowing about the pews. I sighed and breathed it all in.
"Miss Grace!"
Father Eric came swiftly toward me. "What are you doing? Sit down." He helped me into a pew and sat next to me. "You weren't here at your usual time, I thought you were not feeling well enough to come."
"Oh no." I said. "I had a doctor's appointment this morning."
"Oh, that's all?" the father smiled softly at me. "How's the baby?"
"Fine." I answered, automatically rubbing my stomach. "Three more months to go."
"That's wonderful."
Nick would never know it, but I was happy. I carried no guilt and I did not despise him for causing me to fall. Though, maybe I had not fallen at all. Something about it had felt like the right decision. Regardless, sometimes the good must lose before it can win.
