twenty-two
“What are they?”
I can’t help but whisper, though I have no doubt that the creatures can hear me.
The archangel lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Do you ever just listen to an order?”
No, not really. But there’s no way I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing that it’s not just his orders I ignore.
“Do you ever just answer a question?”
Heavy breaths sound from the closest treeline, and before I can repeat myself, a large hand seals my mouth shut. Another finds its way to my stomach, pulling me against something hard and kneeling below the shelter of the boulder.
“Shhh,”
the archangel warns softly, his lips hovering above my ear as he holds us still. Warmth rushes into my veins from his hand splayed across my midsection, the other sending pulses of tingling heat along my lips.
I listen for the sounds of hellish creatures beyond the trees, and hear nothing but the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
The archangel slowly releases his hand from my mouth. The chill that comes with the loss of his touch stings my face. He releases his grip on my waist, but instead of letting me go, he spins me around to face him. I almost fall into his lap with the movement.
“You need to listen to me.”
He brings his hands to either side of my face, tilting my head gently so that I meet his serious gaze. “You need to get away from here. Your weapons will not work on these creatures. You keep your eyes closed and you navigate as far away from here as you can. I will lead them away.”
Close my eyes?
The archangel scans my face, studying every single line with careful consideration. “I saw how you navigated in the low light earlier. I know you can do it.”
I nod slowly, but he doesn’t drop his hands. “I don’t understand.”
“I will explain it to you if you survive this.”
He moves his right hand to grip my chin, dropping his left. “For now, I need you to promise me that no matter what, you will not open your eyes. Not until I tell you it’s safe.”
His eyes plead with me to make this easy for him, to agree without argument.
If I survive this.
I’m touched by his overwhelming faith in me to survive.
I give him another weary nod, wishing any sort of explanation. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows high and his eyes wide. He is the epitome of beauty, only another weapon in his arsenal.
“I promise.”
I whisper the words as if spoken any louder they’d break.
The archangel drops his hold and raises us both to stand. He turns towards the shadowy trees again, his sword raised high.
“What are they?”
I call after him.
He pauses with his back to me. The moonlight glistens over the blade of his sword. It’s a beautiful weapon, crafted in an otherworldly place for the most powerful warrior. He turns his head to look at me, his eyes wild and ready for the hunt.
“Hellhounds.”
Then he’s gone.
Hellhounds.
The word plays through my mind on repeat as I try to navigate north, eyes closed and moving at a ridiculously slow place. I tore a strip of fabric off the bottom of my shirt to use as a blindfold, to avoid any involuntary instinct that might cause me to open my eyes.
I know nothing about hellhounds, which only makes the archangel’s warning more imperative. All I know is that my weapons won’t kill them, and that for an unknown reason, opening my eyes could mean death.
I have considered that he could be lying – just messing with me or using it as an excuse to set off on his own. But if that was his goal, there’d be much less theatrical ways to do so.
I take deep breaths as I guide myself from tree to tree, focusing on the feeling of the leaves crunching beneath my feet and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. I haven’t heard the hellhounds again, which I hope means that the archangel has killed them by now and is on his way to find me.
I wonder if Jeremy has come across creatures like this since he was taken.
The thought passes through my mind before I can stop it, turning the feeling in my stomach from anxiety to full-blown fear. If Jeremy were somewhere out here alone… In reality, he wouldn’t be. He’d be dead.
It’s a gruesome revelation that grabs my focus for too long. My footwork falters, my left foot slipping on the tree root I was about to step over. I slow my fall with my hands, bracing them on the ground, stopping my face from driving into a root. My palms sting at the impact, and I hiss through my teeth.
I start to push off the ground when a gurgling growl sounds from above me.
Shit.
I still. A hellhound huffs its warm breath at me, and I almost retch at the acid stench of it. I grit my teeth and ignore the scent clawing its way into my nose.
The creature isn’t above me; it’s right in front of my face. My weapons won’t work. I can’t look at it. What’s your next move, Amara?
I push up slowly, making sure that my movements are gentle and not at risk of spooking it. I almost laugh at myself, acting as if it’s a jumpy puppy.
I prop myself up on my hands and tuck my knees in beneath me. The hellhound growls softly, a sound that comes from deep in its throat and raises the hairs on my arms.
I wonder what it looks like. It can’t be that bad, can it?
I feel a puff of warm air next to my neck as the creature leans in close to sniff. Drool drops onto my shoulder, my skin sizzling at the touch, but I grit my teeth to keep from wincing at the pain.
I fight the urge to grab the sickle blade from my belt and drive it into the creature’s head. If it even has a head. I still don’t know what it looks like.
“Your weapons will not work on these creatures.”
How do you fight an animal that you can’t see, with weapons that you can’t use?
“Okay. You’ve got me.”
My voice is shaky as I speak to the animal. “Now, what are you going to do with me? Kill me?”
A low rumble followed by a sniff that grazes my cheek answers my question.
“At least make it quick.”
The hellhound’s throat gargles, but it doesn’t strike. It merely circles around me, waiting. Understanding dawns on me: it’s waiting for me to take off my blindfold.
“No… you’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Teeth snap close to my ear, but they’re careful not to touch my skin.
“You can’t kill me…”
My lips curve. “Unless I look at you.”
It huffs in response and its breath tickles my forehead this time, closer than before but still not touching. The creature continues to circle me, snapping its teeth close to my body occasionally to remind me that it’s there. To tempt me to look.
I wonder how big it is, how long those fangs are that drip with acid. I wonder if it’s twice the size of me, or if it’s much less intimidating than what I’m picturing. Is it black as night or the colour of hellfire?
If I peeked, would it really know? Surely not. I could just lift the blindfold slightly, wait until it’s at my side and looking at the back of my head.
I find my fingers lifting to the base of the ripped shirt tied around my head. I could pull it up a little, just for a second. The hellhound is blowing hot air on the back of my neck now; it won’t even notice.
I seize the fabric and begin to lift —
“Slayer!”
The commanding scream forces me to stop. I drop the blindfold and snap my head towards the archangel’s voice. The hellhound lets out a howl that pierces my ears.
What… what just happened?
“On the ground to your right.”
I follow the command without question, still reeling from the trance I was just in. I feel around on the ground and my hand brushes cold steel. I trace it with my fingers, and it hums softly at my touch, power rushing through it. I wrap my fingers around the hilt of the archangel’s sword slowly.
I can’t feel the hellhound circling me anymore, so I listen.
Wind.
Rustling bushes.
A distant howl.
Crunch.
I stand quickly and spin to the left, raising the blade in my hand as I do, but I don’t account for the weight of the sword, and I move too slowly.
A slight breeze brushes my back as the hellhound moves quickly to dodge my blow.
I shift my weight and spin the blade over my wrist until it faces the creature behind me. I drive it backward. The blade meets resistance, and a loud yelp tells me I aimed true.
The skin on my face tingles as warmth spreads through my cheeks. The archangel’s touch is gentle as he lifts the blindfold slowly, guiding it off my eyes and over my head.
My eyes don’t open instinctively; I keep them closed for a moment longer.
“Open.”
They do.
I wasn’t expecting to find him covered in dark blood. His shirt is stained black. The lines of his face are contorted by the same thick, dark liquid. His hair hangs low over his forehead, strands stuck together in clumps. He is the picture of a perfect nightmare.
“What happened?”
I find myself wanting to reach out and wipe the blood from his cheek, but my hand only twitches at my side.
The archangel’s expression darkens. “He had friends.”
He nods down at the forgotten corpse at my feet.
I keep my eyes on the archangel. “Can I look?”
He nods again, his voice returning to its usual distant tone as he says, “Once they’re dead, their power no longer has effect.”
Despite his explanation, I hesitate, taking longer than I should to turn to the creature.
My eyes land on fur that’s the colour of night. It shines like scales under the moonlight, reflecting its surroundings. It’s bigger than I imagined, much bigger. When standing, this beast would’ve towered over me like a horse.
Its eyes are wide open, staring blankly off into the distance. Its jaw hangs slack, displaying every single tooth in a snarl that I’m sure was meant for me. Its teeth are the size of my fingers, each one razor-sharp and drooling acid. But the most terrifying part of the hellhound is not its teeth, or its bloodshot eyes, but its tail.
Covering the fur and the bones beneath is a veil of bright red hellfire. It still burns as the creature is pulled back down to the Darklands.
My eyes snap back up to the creature’s, and this time I notice what I didn’t before. They burn the same hellfire red as its tail, following the same flickers and movements, mirroring it exactly. Its eyes are not glassy from its death; its eyes are where its power lies.
“They can only kill if you look at them.”
It’s not a question, but a confirmation.
The archangel moves to stand next to me, his arm brushing mine, but I move away quickly. “Hellhounds are known as the courtiers of death. Their presence is a promise. If you see a hellhound, you will die within the year if they don’t kill you on the spot. They’re the guard dogs of the Darklands, and since the war began, they’ve been let off their leashes to fetch new souls to bring home.”
And if the AIA send agents back out into the field, they have no idea that these are waiting for them.