13. Rowan
Author’s Note:
It really isn’t fair that humans can’t turn into hellhounds or harpies. Just saying.
ROWAN
I was standing just inside the door, and a pretty steady stream of people were still coming in. I guess I looked like a bouncer or hired muscle, because most of them just nodded at me like I belonged there.
The crowd was getting riled up, and I kind of figured the dog fighting had started, but I wasn’t gonna go over and look. I’d be too tempted to start killing people, because there were plenty of rotten souls in here, and most of them were close to the ring or in the back by the dog cages.
Then I heard a crackle and the sound of a loudspeaker. Fuck. We were supposed to wait until two fights in.
“Is this thing on?” I heard Milo whisper over the loudspeaker.
“Yes,” Riley answered, sounding extremely exasperated.
“Attention, everyone. This is the Pennington Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and we are hereby closing down this illegal dogfighting ring. Please cease and desist all dog fighting and prepare to be arrested.”
There was a loud swell of noise from the crowd, and people started heading toward the exits.
“People, people, everything is fine!” a guy yelled up by the ring, motioning a few guys to head upstairs.
Luckily, people didn’t listen. The few people who were leaving became a steady stream out.
Most of them were gray souls, but they weren’t hellbound yet, so I let them leave.
Most of the people who stayed were hellbound, which made sense.
They had a vested interest in this, and their souls were black.
“Let’s go, people! Clear out and we’ll handle this!” I yelled.
I wasn’t sure if it would work, but apparently looking like hired muscle was enough to convince people that I knew what I was saying.
The steady stream became a throng pretty quickly, people whispering and looking around as they left.
One black soul did try to sneak out, but I grabbed him by the back of the neck.
“Not you,” I said. “Boss wants you to help.”
I had no idea if that would work, but apparently it did, because the guy sighed.
“Get all the civilians out,” I told him, “so we can deal with the animal people.”
“Animal freaks, you mean,” the guy muttered, but he went off to clear people out. Good. Maybe he’d get others to help.
It took maybe ten minutes for the warehouse to mostly clear out.
There were still people back by the dog cages, and there was still a group of people by the ring itself.
Once the crowd was gone, I could see a dog in the ring lying on the ground, bloody, and a guy pulling another dog out of the ring that looked completely uninjured.
“What the fuck, Martinez?” I heard someone say. “This was supposed to be a secure location!”
“We’ll handle it,” another guy said, and I saw guns being drawn.
Great. Guns.
With a crash and a screech, Riley busted through a tinted window up on the second floor. She was covered in blood and gore, her nails and feet were ferocious looking talons, and she was giving an ear-splitting scream.
Such a drama queen. Always had to make an entrance.
I heard some screams, but mostly there were gunshots. Riley weaved through the air, grabbed a guy by the shoulders, flew up toward the rafters, and then let him go. He screamed the whole way down, and when he hit the floor, the sound was… ugh. Human bodies did not splatter nicely.
The guys were yelling and firing their weapons, mostly screaming “What the fuck is that?” and “Kill it!”
Riley swooped in and grabbed another guy, her hand talons gripping his head, and her lower talons gripping his body, and then…
Oh. Gross. I did not need to see that. No wonder she was covered in blood.
Some guy got off a lucky shot, and she folded her wing in, screeching in pain. “Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?” she screeched at me.
Oh. Yeah. I was supposed to help.
I changed into my hellhound form, gave a howl, and set to work killing people as quickly and efficiently as possible (and with as little mess as possible, too).
“Was that the last one?” Riley asked.
I nodded my head, staring around at the carnage.
“Good. I’m gonna go find somewhere to clean off while you clean up here,” she stated, and then she was flying out a window.
Just like my sister to make a huge mess and expect me to clean it up. My kills were clean, and hers were just… Yuck. But because I had hellfire to burn away all evidence, I was expected to cover clean-up. And it wasn’t my fault she got all bloody and gory during her portion of the killing.
“Well, I guess you weren’t going to inform me that you turn into a death dog,” Milo yelled as he walked down the stairs from the top floor.
Shit. I transformed back into my human form without much thought, but when Milo’s eyes strayed south I remembered that I had no clothes on.
Was it bad that I hoped that would distract him from me not informing him that I was a hellhound?
Was it bad that I also hoped it distracted him from the fact that I’d shown up in my wolf-dog form to essentially stalk him and hadn’t told him it was me?
Unfortunately, I guess being a “death dog” trumped my dick, because he eventually looked back at my face, folding his arms and staring at me.
“Hellhound,” I murmured.
“What?” he said.
I cleared my throat. “I’m a hellhound.”
“Because of course you are,” Milo grumbled. “Sister’s a harpy, and you’re a hellhound. Let me guess—I can’t turn into one of those, either.”
“Umm, no,” I said.
“Of course not,” he grumbled, then he turned away, staring at the carnage.
It was so… Milo. He wasn’t upset that I hadn’t told him about my other form; he was upset that he couldn’t turn into a “death dog.”
“I’m sorry about the other night,” I added.
Milo turned back to me, confused. “The other night? Why, what did you do the other night?”
My face got hot as I realized he hadn’t put that together yet, and I gripped my hands together, which made Milo look at them.
I could see the lightbulb moment when he realized what I was talking about. “You… You were… But you weren’t on fire!”
I cleared my throat again. “No. I have two forms. Well, three, I guess, if you count this one.”
“I thought you were a stray dog! I pulled thorns out of your paws!” Milo yelled, clearly angry at me now.
“So you don’t care that I’m a hellhound, but you’re mad I was a wolf-dog?” I asked.
“I baby talked to you!” Milo yelled.
Of course, Riley chose that moment to saunter in through the door, clothed and cleaned up. “Well, he is a baby, so baby talk seems fitting.”
Milo settled his hands on his hips, looking at Riley.
Uh oh. I recognized a death stare when I saw one, and while I appreciated that Milo was about to defend my honor even though he was mad at me, I really didn’t want Riley to start harpy-screeching at him.
That shit really could make your ears bleed. I knew from experience.
I walked over and grabbed Milo in a hug, because it was the only way I could think of to distract him. I kind of forgot I was naked until Milo whispered in my ear, “Boo, I’m not getting sexy with your sister here. Because eww.”
I felt something hit me in the back of the head, and I instinctively grabbed it. I let Milo go and looked at what Riley had thrown at me—a pair of sweatpants. I pulled them on, and Milo let out a little sound of disappointment.
I gave him a peck on the lips and then turned to Riley.
“Well, boys, it’s been fun. But I’ve got people to maim. Call me if you have something else enjoyable.” She turned around, waved over her shoulder, and sauntered out.
“Rude,” Milo commented.
“Yup, that’s Riley. Leaves all the aftermath for someone else to deal with.”
Milo gasped, and then he ran toward the dog fighting ring. All of the dogs except the one in the ring had been put into their cages, and there was a constant sound of barking and growling coming from that area of the warehouse.
The one in the ring was quiet, though, and I walked over slowly, ready to comfort Milo if the dog had passed away. I knew from how he’d treated my wolf-dog form that he’d be devastated to see an animal die. He had a big heart.
The dog was a pitbull mix of some type, and it lifted its head and growled a bit as Milo went into the ring.
“Milo, be careful—” I started, but of course Milo paid me zero attention.
“You poor baby,” he cooed as he got down onto his knees next to the dog.
The dog growled again, and it looked like it was trying to get up.
“Shhhh,” Milo murmured, and he reached out a hand for the dog to smell. The dog amazingly didn’t bite Milo. It sniffed at his hand and then put its head back down, at which point Milo started gently petting it.
I came up behind Milo and the dog growled at me, but it made no move to get up. It was scratched, bitten, and bloodied, and I couldn’t tell if there were any serious injuries going on beneath the blood and fur. It didn’t look like there was gushing blood, so that was certainly a good sign.
“You poor baby. Look what they did to you. But don’t worry, we killed all those mean, mean men. You’re safe now,” Milo murmured.
And, miraculously, the dog’s tail gave a thump against the floor.
“I’m going to get her some water. What do we need to do before we call the animal people?” Milo asked.
Ah, yes, clean up. I walked around and burned up the bodies and any signs of blood, occasionally looking back at Milo, who was sitting with the dog.
At some point the dog’s head was transferred into his lap, and when I checked in later, Milo was feeling along the dog’s legs and body, probably for injuries.
I thought again of telling him to be careful, but it wasn’t like he would listen.
I walked back toward the cages, continuing to burn up any evidence of dead people and gore.
Riley really had left a huge mess, but hellfire could take care of anything.
The dogs snarled, growled, barked, or whimpered as I passed by.
I gave a low growl, and they all quieted at that. Dogs didn’t fuck with hellhounds.
I finished the last of the clean up, walking around to make sure all was taken care of. When I went back toward Milo, he was eating an apple and sharing bites with the dog, who still had its head resting in his lap.
“That’s a neat trick,” he commented between bites. “You’ll be useful to have around.”
“Well, glad to be useful,” I grumbled. I couldn’t help the grumpiness—I’d gotten stuck with cleanup, and this other dog was getting all the Milo snuggles.
“Oh, boo, you’re always useful. Now help me get Baby up and to the car before we call the animal people.”
“Baby?” I asked, confused.
Milo sighed. “The dog, boo. Help me with the dog.”
So I did the only thing I could, and I picked up the dog—Baby, apparently. She gave a low growl but I growled back in response, and she settled down, letting me carry her as Milo and I headed out of the warehouse.
“Well this was an eventful day. And we even have a baby together now! Who would’ve thought! We’ll have to take her to a vet to be cared for, and we’ll need to get supplies.”
Milo smiled at me, and I couldn’t help it, I smiled back.
I wasn’t planning on acquiring a dog, but if we took care of Baby together, I’d have to stay over, wouldn’t I?