Chapter Thirty-Two
Millie
T he black beast crawls over me, its plate-sized paws landing on either side of my head. Hot, coppery breath scolds my skin as blazing eyes glare down at me. A deep growl leaves its throat, ricocheting across my shaking bones. The more my fear grows, the more logic leaves me. The urge to scream is overwhelming.
I can hear Roisin and the boys yelling somewhere in front of me. Though they can't see the creature, my body pinned to the ground, the whimpers escaping my lips tell them all they need to know.
Jackson's deep voice cuts through everything, and though I can't understand his utterance, the beast immediately climbs off me. With a huff, it settles down nearby, never taking its eyes off mine.
“What is going on?” Roisin screams, her hands clinging to the twins, who are still buried in the fabric of her sweater. “What did that? Oh god …” Her body seems to give way; she sinks to the ground, pulling her boys with her.
“It was a hellhound,” Jackson says matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“What?” Roisin screams.
“What did you say to it?” I snap as I sit up weakly. Jackson rushes forward to help me, but I shake my head and do it myself. “What was that?”
“I said down,” he responds casually. “In Welsh.”
“Welsh?” I repeat, the fading adrenaline leaving my mind slow and throbbing. Spots dance in front of my eyes as my lungs struggle to regain oxygen. “They respond to Welsh?”
He shrugs, looking impatient, a dark piece of hair falling in his eyes.
“Ever heard of the Gwyllgi? Well, the first hellhound trainer was from Newport, so most legends originate from …”
“What are you talking about?” Roisin leaps up angrily, her arms waving in front of Jackson's face. “What the hell is he talking about?” She turns to me, eyes wild and hair wilder. Archie starts to cry.
“Oh baby, mummy's sorry.” She rushes back to their side. “She's just trying to work out what this idiot is muttering about.”
I turn to Jackson, who's looking tired, just too tired to be dealing with whatever this is. He looks terrible—deep violet rings under his eyes, an angry lump on his forehead, dust coating his crumpled clothes.
I exhale, still feeling light-headed, and sink back down. I clutch the soft grass, letting the silky blades slide between my fingers. The fresh scent permeates my senses as I ground myself with something normal.
“Jackson? What is going on? What are you doing here? How do you know it's a hellhound? Are they something to do with people not being able to die? Why can I see them and Roisin can't?” The questions tumble out of my mouth like coins from a slot machine.
“You can see them?” he mutters, frowning deeply. I nod, and he runs his hands through his hair, looking thoughtful and disturbed. Once again, he moves toward me; this time, when he reaches for me, I don't pull away. I let him drag me to my feet. Putting my hands on his chest, I lean against him. I'm too tired to be too angry right now. I want the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of pressing myself against his warm body.
“You shouldn't be able to see them.” He looks down at me. “They must be hunting you. They're not done with you yet.” There's fear in the metallic glint of his eyes.
I groan and take a step backwards. “Come on, Jackson, context, please?”
He takes my hand and drags me forward with him toward the path that leads around the house and back to the street. I shake my head and pull back, moving to stand closer to Roisin and the boys.
“We have to go. We have to go now.” He snaps, calling to me like a trainer commanding a dog. Or maybe a Welsh hellhound.
It's enough to make me ignore him. Gathering Roisin and the boys, I lead them away from the growling beast. The hellhound is looking at me, its teeth bared and eyes flaming. Jackson says something else in the Welsh, and it falls silent, dropping its head between its paws.
“It won't listen to me for much longer, trust me. We need to leave.”
“Go. Go where? I can't leave them.”
He rushes towards me, ignoring my groan. He puts his hands on the side of my face, looking at me deeply. Jackson's eyes are piercing, sending shivers through me. They're fireworks against a concrete sky, metal grinding against metal, drawing sparks. I want so much just to accept everything he's saying to me, to just fall into him, but right now, I just can't.
“Listen to me. I know this is confusing, and nothing makes sense right now, but I promise I'll explain everything.” He pauses before starting again. “Or at least as much as I know, but they can't come with us. It isn't safe.”
I shake my head, taking a step back from him.
“Why not? I'm not leaving them, and what about that … thing?”
“It isn't after them. Once you're gone, it will leave them alone.”
I frown, my arms folding across my chest.
“How do you know that?”
“Because they can't see it. And if they can't see it, it means it isn't here for them. It's here for the person who can see them. It's here for you.”
I swallow, my throat feels thick, and the lack of sleep is suddenly hitting me. I stare up at him. His eyes are sympathetic but severe. He reaches for me again, but I move out of his grasp.
“Millie, please.” His eyes are pleading. “There isn't any time.”
I turn back to Roisin, who stands up. The boys stay on the ground, looking tearful and confused.
“I think I need to go with him,” I mumble weakly. I don't want to leave, but there's some logic to what he's saying. I can feel it. And if I'm the reason that thing is tearing the house apart, I need to leave.
“No. You're staying here. With us.” Roisin grabs my hand, looking down at it. “I promised your mum I'd keep you safe.”
“And you have. But you need to keep the boys safe, too.”
She flinches at that, her eyes travelling to the wide-eyed faces looking up at her.
“And if I'm the reason they're not safe, then I need to go.”
I turn and look at Jackson. “You promise you know what you're talking about?”
He nods quickly. I can tell he's desperate to leave. He's moving his weight from one leg to another, chest rising rapidly.
“I'll be back soon, OK?” I pull away from Roisin, who quickly yanks me back and into a hug, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. I take in her comforting scent, and a cold thought slinks through me that I may never smell it again.
“You better. I’m not ready to lose you too.” She smiles weakly and finally lets me go but keeps a close grip on my hand. She looks over my shoulder at Jackson.
“I don't know what's going on or what you have to do with it, but you take care of her. I promise invisible dogs will be the very least of your problems if you don't.”
“I know. Nothing will happen to her, I promise.”
She nods, her eyes fierce. She finally lets go of my hand.
“Go back into the house. The hound will be gone soon.” Jackson yells to Roisin, taking my hand and pulling me up the path.
I look back at them, hesitating for a moment before I turn and leave. I feel strange as I go, feeling like another part of my life has just ended.
Jackson doesn't speed through the city as much as he does tear through the streets as if he's in a race with only one racer. I'm not scared of speed, but the smell of burning rubber and turns so sharp they're like spikes on a heart machine poke at what's left of my jagged nerves.
“Jackson?”
He grunts but doesn't turn to look at me.
“Jackson?” I repeat.
An old lady crossing the road screams, clutching her chest as we skim past her, inches from hitting her shopping trolley.
“Jackson! What the hell! Slow down.”
“We don't have time.”
“Time, time for what? You still haven't told me what's going on?”
He says nothing. I fold my arms tightly across my chest and sink deeper into the soft leather. The streets turn into a blur of lights and concrete. I can barely make out the businesses and buildings as we pass. Now and then, I hear a faint growl or howl and turn to see another beast, another of Jackson's hellhounds, staring at me from outside my window, their red eyes glowing with menace.
The car finally slows, coming to a halt as we hit traffic on the motorway. As Jackson swears, hitting the steering wheel angrily, I lean out of the window, spotting the yellow jackets and traffic cones ahead.
“Roadworks, just relax. We'll be past it soon.”
He snorts and rubs his eyes in frustration. “The world's ending and someone thinks it's a good idea to keep digging up the road. Genius.” He shakes his head, leaning back in his seat, his fists slamming on the steering wheel.
“Actually, it's perfect. You've got the time to tell me what's going on. So start talking.” I turn in my seat, staring at him hard.
He exhales, keeping his eyes ahead.
“Now, Jackson.”
“I don't even know where to start.” He mumbles, running his hands through his dark hair.
“OK, let's keep it simple. Where are we going?”
“London,” he says simply. I wait for more, but nothing comes.
“OK … any reason we're going to London? According to you, it's the end of the world. I'm guessing we're not having tea with the Queen?”
He turns to look at me. “We're going to see someone who can help me put things right.”
I bite my lip, frustration building in me again. The residue of the hellhound attack has left me feeling like a raw nerve. Last night, I was worried about having sex for the first time. Today, I've learned I may never die, and hellhounds want to tear me apart.
“Why was that dog after me?”
“Hellhound. And I'm not sure. I think it was hunting you. I don't think it was after your soul.”
“What does that even mean?” I groan, glancing through the window. The traffic has come to a grinding halt.
Silence.
“What does that mean, Jackson?” Rage spikes, and I yell. My hands gesticulating wildly in front of my flushed face. “Why was it hunting me? Why are we going to London? Why couldn't Roisin see them? And why do you seem to know what's going on when the whole world doesn't have a clue?”
More silence.
Something snaps. I feel like the elastic holding all my brain matter together has just snapped. Undoing my seatbelt, I leap out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I dodge the stationary vehicles, ignoring the burning fumes and engine heat till I'm off the road and onto the green bank running alongside the motorway. I stop to look around. My only way is up, so I start walking.
“Millie, what are you doing? Get back here. What are you …?” Jackson has left the car and is following me to the side of the road. I try to walk up the bank but lose my footing and slip back down. Straight away, he's behind me, catching my elbow to stop me from falling.
“Don't touch me!” I scream, shocked by the rage in my voice.
Jackson flinches; his lips part, but he says nothing. His eyes are just … sad. “I told you no more lies, and what do you do? Keep lying. You need to tell me everything. You need to tell me everything right now!”
He looks to the ground, and when his eyes look back up at me, it's like he's looking at me for the last time, taking me in, like whatever he says next will be the end of us.