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Living Stone
By : AceMaxwell
Category: G through L > Hellboy
Views: 4868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy and I make no money off this fiction.
Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Rating bumps up to M here for violence and more than a few innuendos.

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An old truck bounced and grumbled down one of England's unmarked dirt roads. Hellboy was driving, which John found amusing since he barely fit behind the steering wheel. All around them, rolling green countryside spread out as far as the eye could see. It was mostly farmland that was divided every so often by a fence or low stone wall, but owned or wild, it was still beautiful.

The passenger window was rolled down and John had his arm propped up on it. He flexed his fingers, curling them into the wind and letting the currents roll over the contours of his hand. Cold air rushed around inside the outdated cab, keeping the odds smells at bay. They'd borrowed the truck from the inn's owner and left him a hefty deposit that was probably worth more than the actual vehicle. It ran and had four-wheel drive and that was all Hellboy cared about.

They were a few dozen miles outside of Wells, headed west. Without a radio (the one from the dashboard was missing), the ride had been comfortably quiet, which Hellboy didn't mind. The boy was mostly content to stare out at the scenery. When the road straightened out and Hellboy was able to pull his eyes away, he glanced over at John.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened in the hotel room, but his view of the kid had changed. The boy had guts, Hellboy gave him that. The last human being who actually had balls enough to hit Hellboy was… he couldn't remember. It had been that long. People didn't get physically aggressive towards him. Hellboy wanted to say that it was because of his winning personality, but he knew it was due more to the fact that he was almost seven feet tall and built like a bear.

Hellboy wanted to ask about the scars, but he didn't. It was an extremely sensitive subject with the kid and Hellboy didn't do 'sensitive' well. He didn't like dancing on eggshells so he could have a conversation without pissing someone off. He much preferred being straightforward and blunt, which made all the women he knew roll their eyes on a very regular basis. Well, all the women expect Kate. Kate had come to accept him the way he was.

John pulled some slack into his seatbelt so he could turn and ask, "Are you ever going to tell me what the Court of Shades is?"

Hellboy switched hands on the steering wheel, laying his human arm on the bench seat between them, "Guess we've got enough time. You know fairies, right? The dumbed-down, sticky sweet things you see on kid's clothes and as lawn decorations?"

"Yeah."

"They don't exist, but they're based loosely on something real. The Seelie are a little closer to what people think of as fairies, but they're mean. They'll keep people as pets for hundreds of years, keeping them young with enchanted food."

John swallowed and the space between his eyebrows creased, "What do they do with them? The people they keep, I mean."

They reached a crossroad that was cement and Hellboy stopped the car. He glanced both directions, asking, "Do you see a road sign?"

John stuck his head out the window, but didn't see anything but grass, dirt, and a bit of fence that had collapsed. "No."

With a frustrated growl, Hellboy put the truck in gear and went straight. After a minute or so of John watching him drive, he remembered to continue, "They do all kinds of stuff to people, mostly whatever they think is funny, which sucks for the human involved."

"So the Court of Shades is where they live?" John ventured.

Hellboy shook his head, "No. The Seelie belong to the Court of Glem. The Court of Shades was the Unseelie court, but it disbanded back in the early part of the tenth century when a small army came in and wiped out their king. If his bones were in that box, then we've got to find them, and fast."

"Is the Shade Court that much worse?"

"Kid, compared to the Unseelie, the Seelie are a day in the park."

John wrapped his arms around his chest and stared out at the passing landscape. Hellboy let him digest what he'd said. He wasn't going to force John to stay behind, but maybe he'd come to his senses when he realized how dangerous things were. There was so much more Hellboy could throw in about the Unseelie to dissuade John, but he didn't want to scare the kid unnecessarily.

After he thought he'd given John enough time to process, Hellboy mentioned, "I can get you to an airport anytime you feel like you're in over your head."

John's glare said enough.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Hellboy sighed and reached into one of the utility pockets on his belt. He withdrew a chain with a bizarre pendant hanging from it and handed it to John. "Will you at least humor me and wear some protection?"

John arched one brow, snickering at Hellboy's choice of words, "Protection?"

"What are you, twelve? It's made of iron, it'll keep you safe."

The boy slipped it over his head, still smiling, and picked up the heavy amulet to examine it. It was a circle, inscribed on one edge with five runic symbols. Below that was a carving of the sun overlapping a crescent moon. The whole thing was about two inches in diameter, just a little bigger than a half-dollar coin. John stuck it under his shirt.

"Are they going to be pissed that you let me stay?" John asked, studying Hellboy's profile.

"Probably."

"Will you get in trouble?"

"You know, kid, we're getting back into that twenty questions game and I don't play."

His mouth twisting to one side, John huffed in agitation and propped his feet up on the dashboard. Hellboy could deal with the questions about the courts. The more the kid knew about them, the better prepared he'd be, but John didn't need to know that Hellboy was sticking his neck out to let him stay. He'd already told Kate that the kid wasn't ready, so when he didn't arrive back at base, people in high places were going to start wondering. Although, being suspended wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"What happens if you get suspended?"

Hellboy groaned, "You don't ever shut up, do you?" The question wasn't as annoyed or serious as Hellboy wanted it to be. It actually seemed to be tinted with a teasing quality.

"Only when I'm in bed," John answered with a smirk. Picking at his sleeve, the kid added, "Unless there's someone in bed with me and then I get pretty loud."

The truck swerved and John grabbed the handle on the roof to keep from getting thrown against the door. After Hellboy got the vehicle under control, he stuck John with an incredulous look. The kid just laughed.

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It was almost nightfall before Hellboy pulled the truck off the road. John had spent a majority of the trip trying to analyze why he'd felt such a strong bolt of lust when Hellboy had leaned over him at the hotel. He hadn't come to any conclusions, besides the obvious. The demon was well built, and exposed that fact every moment of the day because he didn't wear a shirt. John didn't have a particular weakness for muscle, but he had to admit that he wanted to explore the hard planes of Hellboy's chest and abdomen with his hands and mouth. Once he got past the body, the demon was brash, and bawdy, but oddly charming.

They parked near a whitewashed wooden fence. John stayed in the cab as Hellboy got out to open the gate to the property. The demon came back, the truck dipping as he hoisted his considerable mass into the driver's seat.

As they drove into the field, John asked, "Do you know the owner, or are we going to get shot if somebody finds us out here?"

The truck bounced over the uneven terrain, the shocks squeaking every time they hit anything bigger than a pothole, which was every few seconds.

Hellboy grunted, "Never been shot at out here."

"So you don't know them," John stated, getting a little nervous.

If England was anything like home, people got very territorial when random strangers decided to drive onto their farm. Though, John had his doubts about the polite and proper English being much like the country hicks of Chickasaw, Arkansas. John never wanted to look on that town again.

Hellboy pulled up next to a steep hill with a tree perched at the peak. The tree's root system slithered in and out of the mound of earth, giving the impression that the tree was suspended in the air. John unbuckled his seatbelt, but didn't get out, looking to Hellboy for direction.

"I know somebody who's lived here since way before any of this land was owned," the demon said as he put the truck in park and killed the engine. "But if he had opposable thumbs and owned a gun, he would shoot at us so stay sharp."

John was tempted to stay in the truck and let Hellboy handle it, but his pride wouldn't let him. It had already taken a few shots over the course of the day and didn't seem like it would survive another direct hit. Plus, he didn't want Hellboy sending him home. Being a part of the bureau was the only thing in his life that made any sense.

Taking a deep breath, John left the truck and joined Hellboy in the field. For several minutes, they stood in knee-high grass (almost waist-high for John). Though Hellboy's mind seemed serene, the demon's fingers were resting on the handle of his gun. An electric energy pulsed in the air. It was similar to the energy John felt when the ghost touched his mind, just older. The power was almost stale.

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, something shimmered in the branches of the tree. John narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out what it was. It was like trying to make shapes in the heat coming off asphalt in July. More shimmering objects appeared in the failing light. The energy in the air lost some of its staleness, growing and crackling at the edge of John's subconscious. It made him realize that he was trying to see the objects when they had to be sensed.

John reached out to the unknown shapes with his mind and they came into sharp focus. There were countless wards and charms hanging from the branches by strips of leather. Most looked handmade, crudely constructed from bone, antler, fur pelts, and hooves. They rattled in the biting evening wind.

"Can you see the stuff in the tree?" Hellboy leaned over to ask.

John nodded.

"Good, means you'll be able to go on a bigger variety of missions." When John looked at him with one eyebrow arched, Hellboy elaborated, "Seeing into the spectral realm in one thing, most psychics can do that, but if you can see the hidden world of the Fay, you've got a lot of uses."

There were a lot of uses he wanted to explore with Hellboy, but John bit his tongue against any comments saying as much. He blushed slightly, thankful that it was too dark for Hellboy to see the bloom of color on his cheeks and neck. He had to get his infatuation under control or get it out of his system. If he didn't address it, it was just going to get worse.

The night continued to darken around them. They were far enough outside city limits that they weren't going to have any light to go by. The moon was only half-full, so it gave everything a soft, white glow, but didn't penetrate any of the shadows. John thought about going back to the truck to turn the headlights on, but wasn't sure if it would chase off whatever they were waiting for.

As the night life started stirring and making noise, something finally moved at the base of the tree. It was fairly large, certainly not a fox or possum. Whatever it was, it shuffled around near the tree's roots for a few minutes before it made its way out into the moonlight. As it was illuminated, John noticed the long snout and small tusks protruding from its lower lip. It was a boar. John started to relax before he spotted that the boar was standing on its hind legs and had large human hands stuffed into heavily armored gauntlets.

Hellboy moved forward, shouting, "Hey Grom, old buddy!"

The boar froze, bright yellow eyes turning to them in a blur. For a breath, he stayed where he was, muttering, "Hellboy," and then he was running in the opposite direction.

Hellboy followed him at a saunter. John kept pace with Hellboy easily. Despite the fact that he was taking his time, they weren't losing much ground.

"Aren't you afraid he's going to get away?" John asked.

"Have you seen how short his legs are? He's not going to get far," Hellboy returned with a shadowed smile.

Within a minute, they were gaining on Grom. The boar was panting raggedly, looking back every few seconds as he scrambled over the rolling hills of the pasture. A rabbit bolted from a stand of tall weeds just before he reached it. John could've sworn he heard the rabbit saying, "Nowhere to hide, Gruagach," as it vanished in the grasses.

Hellboy jogged the last few feet, grabbing the squat creature by the belt he was wearing and hoisting him into the air, "You know it hurts my feelings when you run, Grom." His sarcasm was dry.

The boar squealed, "I am not Grom, you insufferable brute. Release me!"

"Yeah, yeah. Grom, Gruagach, whatever. You're the only two legged pig I know." Hellboy growled as the boar tried to hit him with one of the heavy gauntlets. He gave the animal a good shake and tossed him into the grass. "Let's talk about the Shade Court. What do you know?"

"Nothing. It's gone, broken."

"I've heard they found the bones of the King. Tell me where they're going to resurrect him."

"Then you know more than I do. The witches of England are silent. I don't know anything about the king."

John stayed just behind Hellboy, prodding at the boar's mind. Within the coils of anger and fear, John touched a sorrow so deep that it flooded him. John gasped involuntarily, clutching at his chest as tears brimmed and spilled over. He felt as though his world was coming apart at the seams. The boar's memories played behind his eyelids when he squeezed them shut.

There was a beautiful woman, a human woman with long brown hair and a face that even the Seelie were envious of. The boar had been a shape shifter of some kind then, but she knew him as a handsome elf that would drag himself through hellfire just so he could lie down at her feet. He loved her more deeply than John could even begin to understand.

John pushed at the memory, trying to see something relevant. Wherever he went in the Fay's mind, the memory was there. It was soaked into every corner of his subconscious, alongside a fathomless sorrow and a hatred that burned away what little was left of his identity. Tears slid freely down John's face as he navigated the labyrinth that was Grom.

Hellboy turned away from the boar, brushing his flesh hand against John's shoulder and calling his name. Buried too deeply to answer, John held the Fay's gaze and continued to search. The painful memory swelled and played in John's head, possibly the only defense Grom had against John's intrusion.

Gruagach, as he was called then, and the woman lounged in a garden. He was nearly drunk on her gaze. She stroked his hair and begged him to show her his true form, swearing that she loved him too deeply to be frightened. The warning he gave her was simple, "If you scream in terror, my magic will unravel and I will be no more." Fear would be his undoing, specifically her fear.

Though he was one of the most powerful beings in all of England, slayer of giants and Unseelie, his life was wrapped so tightly in hers that her every whim and expression altered him. He took his true form at her request. He was monstrous, towering over her. His face was that of a lion with tusks that curved up from his lower lip and claws that could make armies into ribbons. Her fear made the air around him cold.

Hellboy grabbed John's shoulders, leaning down so they were eye to eye. The moment his attention was diverted, Grom ran. Hellboy caught the movement, looking after Grom with a muttered, "shit," but he stayed with John. The demon's brow creased with worry as he tapped John's face lightly. "Come on, kid. Snap out of it."

John blinked for the first time in several minutes, forcing the last of the tears away. He rubbed the sleeve of his coat against his face. "You turned into a bird," John said over Hellboy's shoulder, directing it at Grom's shrinking backside.

"Wha-" Hellboy started to ask, and then turned to find that Grom had stopped running.

John moved around the demon and raised his voice, "You turned into a songbird so she wouldn't be frightened anymore, but she screamed anyway."

The grasses nearly swallowed the boar, but John could still see the coal-like glow of the animal's eyes and the rising mist from his breath.

Since he seemed to have Grom's undivided attention, John slowly stepped towards him, "You always hated her for it."

"She swore to love me, no matter what form I took."

Hellboy groaned and muttered, "You've got to be kidding."

John elbowed him in the stomach, ignoring the surprised 'oomph' as he continued, "You saw the cat, I know you did. She was trying to warn you."

Grom's eyes disappeared, but John could still make out his silhouette in the darkness. He was processing John's words, going over the memory in his head. John helped him along by dragging the cat to the forefront, reminding him that it was a gray tabby, that it had set its gaze hungrily on him.

"We are not here to play therapist with a worn down Fay," Hellboy grumbled right against John's ear.

The brush of the demon's breath on his skin made John shudder, though Hellboy's intention was to be quiet, not arouse him. John clutched the edges of his jacket and pulled it closed around him, trying to pass off the shiver as the cold getting to him. "Have you ever heard the old phrase about catching flies with sugar?"

Hellboy shrugged.

Oblivious to their conversation, the boar shook his head and started to back away, "No, you're making me think these things. You're a conjurer."

John moved forward the way someone would approach a spooked horse. He kept his hands raised at chest level, speaking in low, even tones, "That's not true, and you know it. The memories are already there. You think about it every day."

Grom made it to a small, dark clearing, but kept to the grass. Mud squished under his cloven feet, barely audible over the rustle of the meadow as the three figures pushed through it. The wind picked up and obscured all other sounds as it played in the wards hanging from the gnarled tree. It swept around the bone and antler, banging them against wood and each other. Melodious as it was, there was something foreboding about it.

Behind John, Hellboy growled, "You're wasting your time on him."

John didn't want to believe it was true. No creature deserved to live with such sorrow. If all it took was a little convincing, then John was willing to give him that. Grom's fondest and dearest connection to the human world was tainted by a foggy, unclear memory of the truth. Hellboy had worked in the BPRD longer than anyone, so John hoped that it was his impatience talking, not his experience.

John's next step forward sent stagnant water spilling over the edge of his boot, the icy chill made goose bumps rocket across his skin. The dark space he thought was more field rippled and gleamed as it caught the moonlight. It was a very small pond, more of a puddle of standing water than anything. Grom stood just on the other side, staring at them with his bright yellow eyes. A dark intention took shape beneath the surface of the animal's mind. John could sense it, feel it, but he didn't know exactly what it was.

He kept pushing, "Gruagach, think hard. She was calling your name, reaching out for you. You remember."

Those glowing yellow points stayed fixed on John for a minute or more. Grom's mind was in turmoil, tumbled through the memory of his demise, as well as other, more pleasant memories of his lover. They churned so quickly that John had a hard time keeping up with them. Then, suddenly, all of his thoughts stopped.

"All hail the King of Shade," Grom growled.

Hellboy was reaching to yank John back even as the pond exploded into the air. Fingers closed on the back of John's jacket while a mass of flesh and hooves slammed through the curtain of water. The pull at his back was paired with a horse's shoulder ramming into his chest. John landed hard, throwing up his arms to protect his face from the animal's back hooves. A kick glanced off his wrist and hot pain exploded through every inch of his arm. With a cry, John curled around his injury.

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Hellboy knew what it was instantly. Clods of earth and grass flew where the kelpie landed, ripped up by his wild pawing. The horse's nostrils flared as he reared in front of Hellboy, his whiney more of a roar than a neigh. Hellboy dodged back from the animal's flailing front legs.

He was worried about the kid, but the kelpie was too much to deal with if his attention was divided. His left hand went instinctively to his gun. It had barely cleared the holster when the kelpie dove forward to smash his hard head into Hellboy's shoulder. The blow made Hellboy stumble back, the gun spinning out of sight. It thumped softly as it hit the ground and disappeared in the field.

"Son of a…" Hellboy started to say. He looked out into the dark meadow to try and pinpoint the weapon, but sharp teeth closed on the thick muscle at the juncture of his neck and he had to give up on the gun. The hit of pain made him grit his teeth.

"Ow," he snarled at the kelpie. "That hurt."

He followed his words with a strike from his right hand. It connected solidly with the animal's head. Something cracked and the kelpie staggered. Feeling smug, Hellboy threw his hand back for another attack, but the animal wasn't as dazed as he seemed. Teeth bared, the kelpie lunged in the middle of Hellboy's swing.

The animal slammed into him like a truck going eighty. The force of it knocked Hellboy's feet out from under him. Before he recovered, both front hooves came down on his chest. Air rushed from Hellboy's lungs in a quick 'whoosh' that left him gasping. The kelpie reared up slightly and brought them down again, but Hellboy rolled just before they hit. He was still close enough to the impact that it made his teeth rattle.

Hellboy got his feet underneath him so he was in a crouch and leapt up into the kelpie's next lunge. Their bodies connected with a wet, slapping sound. Hellboy's hands slid over the animal's thick neck, trying to find a grip on the slimy flesh. His fingers wrapped in the mane at the base of the kelpie's head. With a roar, he flung the kelpie over his shoulder. The mane came loose in his hand as the horse's weight hit the strands. He wiped the hair off on his pants as the kelpie got to his feet.

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John propped himself up on one elbow, his chest still pressed in the muddy bank. His clothes were soaked and the wind was already making frost on his eyelashes, but he doubted that his trembling could be attested to the cold. He watched as Hellboy grappled with the creature that was in the guise of a horse. He'd heard the animal's terrible scream, there was no way it was a normal horse. That sound had sent fear rippling down John's spine.

If the scream hadn't given it away, the animal's mind would have. His thoughts were too organized, too precise to be any kind of normal beast. His mind was predominately set on the need to kill Hellboy, but just below that was a desire to find an object. It needed a small piece of bone that it seemed to think Hellboy possessed.

John didn't have time to dig any deeper. The kelpie threw his considerable mass against Hellboy and knocked him to the ground again. Whether it was intentional or unintended, the animal fell with him. Hellboy grunted as the weight crushed him into the dirt. He tried to smash the creature with his stone hand, but the position he was in made it impossible to get enough strength behind the blows for it to be effective. The kelpie twisted his head so he could snap at Hellboy's face.

John struggled to get up. His feet slid in the mud, water squishing between his toes with every move. Fortunately, the temperature was taking some of the sting out of his arm. The pain only made itself known when he used that hand to get his balance. Ignoring it the best he could, John finally managed to get some traction. He stumbled in the direction he saw Hellboy's gun go.

Glancing up to see Hellboy still struggling to get out from beneath the horse, John searched the grasses frantically with both hands. Stones and grass and dirt were all he could feel. He peered into the darkness, trying to find even the smallest gleam of the gun's barrel. None of the soft, blue white highlights from the moon looked anything like a gun.

Hellboy's angry, pained shout made John's head snap up. The kelpie had torn into Hellboy's arm. Even in the limited light, John could see blood running freely down the demon's skin. Hellboy caught the horse's nose in his stone hand, his thick digits curling around the lower jaw. He yanked, but lost his grip. Something that might have been a tooth pin wheeled to the ground.

John pushed forward, crawling on his hands and knees so he could feel as much surface as possible. His fingers were nearly numb from the cold. He wasn't entirely sure what he was touching anymore.

Hellboy finally got his feet between him and the kelpie and shoved the animal off. The kelpie's legs thrashed uselessly in the sky for a moment as he rolled onto his back. Taking advantage of the moment of weakness, Hellboy crashed his fist into the creature's ribcage. A muffled crunch spoke of the damage he'd caused. Despite that, the animal rolled and got up.

"Just cut a guy a break and die already," Hellboy groaned. "Seriously, you're pissing me off."

The animal hissed in response.

A hard object jabbed into John's knee as he put it down. For a heartbeat, he thought it was just a rock, but he reached back to close his hand over the wooden handle of Hellboy's gun. John leapt up and took aim with the bulky weapon. He had to use both hands to keep it steady since the barrel and ammo cylinder were so heavy.

Since it was faster than anything else was, John pushed a warning into Hellboy's head, 'Get down.' Instead of heeding it, Hellboy turned and held up his left hand.

"No, don't-" the demon started to say as John's finger tightened on the trigger.

The shot rang out with a massive boom that some cannons couldn't match. Recoil ripped through John's arms and the weapon bucked hard enough to toss his narrow frame to the dirt. His head cracked against the ground as he landed, but he somehow managed to hang onto the gun.

Blood exploded from the kelpie's back in a fountain. The animal's wretched screech was almost human. It echoed across the field, probably heard for miles. Before Hellboy could move in to finish the job, the kelpie slithered into what was left of the pond and vanished.

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The water sloshed back and forth. Hellboy watched it until it was completely still, panting from the exertion of the fight. He ached everywhere. He was going to need a little first aid and maybe some beer and then some well-deserved sleep. Giving up his guard on the pond for a few seconds, Hellboy scanned the meadow for Grom. The coward was nowhere in sight, which was annoying, but probably best. Hellboy wasn't going to get anything else from the pig and he didn't have enough patience left to try.

When he was positive the kelpie wasn't coming back, Hellboy went to John. The kid was sprawled on the ground, looking more than a little dazed. Tremors made the kid's body twitch, but he wasn't moving much otherwise. Hellboy knelt by his side and gently took the gun from his white-knuckled grip. The kick from the Samaritan was enough to take down a big human who was used to handling guns, so it had been a little much for John.

"Not bad for your first day of work, huh?"

John's dark eyes flicked towards him and a wry smile tugged at his mouth, "Technically, it's the second day."

"Yeah, close enough," Hellboy chuckled and shucked out of his coat. "Get out of the stuff that's wet and put this on," he said as he handed it to the kid.

John did as he was told, but moved as though he'd aged forty years in just a few minutes. Hellboy tried to give him as much privacy as he could by turning around, but he did sneak at least one glance. There was an ugly, purple-green bruise rising on John's wrist and more than a few new scratches and scrapes littering his pale skin. The way he was shaking made Hellboy wonder if he was going to be okay. He silently hoped that the heater in the truck worked.

"That… that thing, whatever it was, wanted some kind of bone. Does that mean anything to you?" John asked.

Hellboy pushed his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the small triangle of bone he'd stashed there hours ago. Without thinking, he turned to show it to John, "I found this in- Oh shit, sorry." He broke off and whirled back around after catching an eyeful of John's bare back and ass.

A small thrill went through Hellboy, but he crushed it mercilessly. There was no need to cause unnecessary problems with the people he worked with so he'd made it a rule a long time ago never to peruse a relationship within the bureau. Plus, Hellboy wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't much to look at, what with all of his… oddities. He considered himself lucky if people didn't scream when they met him, so he was never actively searching for someone to sleep with. The kid had been joking a lot with him about it in the car, but Hellboy knew it couldn't be what he hoped it was. Knowing that made John's little quips sting.

He felt John come up behind him. The kid reached around to take the tiny bit of bone out of his hand. When Hellboy dared to look at him, he was relieved to see that John had slipped into his jacket. The duster was gigantic on the boy, nearly sliding off his shoulders even though he had it buttoned all the way up.

"This is what he wanted? It's so little," John wondered aloud, spinning the bone carefully between his thumb and index finger. "Why would they be after this?"

Hellboy shook his head, "I don't know yet."

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TBC…
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Living Stone	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 4868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy and I make no money off this fiction.

Living Stone