Chapter 21 More Criminal Curiosity #2
“Ragnar!” The yellow demon stood swiftly from an overturned pail and waved, far too awake for the early hour. “I didn’t realize they were supposed to go home today. I’m just giving this guy a once-over—he was limping after that whole portal incident, but he seems fine now.”
Ragnar strode up to the veilhound in question, bright-eyed and standing with equal weight on every paw, his spine straight and tail gently swaying, all good signs. “They’re not coming back with me,” he said. “Just Kee’cer’uth.”
“What now?” Rand cocked his head.
Of course, the others didn’t know the veilhounds’ names, but then Ragnar hadn’t taken the time to teach them as he assumed they wouldn’t be interested. He also assumed the guard didn’t send out their triage healers to do once-overs, though, and yet here Rand was.
“Her.” He pointed to the veilhound who had come to attention hearing her name. “I’ve brought three to replace her. They’ll function as a mini pack alongside the Bae-uth.”
“Wha—”
“The others you have here, that’s what I call them as a collective. Just don’t separate these three when you take them on…missions?” He wasn’t sure of the word and squinted hesitantly at the healer.
Rand snorted a laugh with a crooked smile. “Oh, okay, sure.”
The two demons stood across from one another as Kee’cer’uth padded up. The veilhound looked from one to the other then quirked her head with a questioning sound.
“My hand,” Ragnar said into the heavy quiet between them. “It’s better than before it was injured. You’re very talented.”
Rand’s smile evened out and widened.
“Not just because of this,” he said, flashing his healed palm. “But because of Brioni. You kept her alive, didn’t you?”
The healer shrugged in his humble way. “Oh, you know, it’s all in a day’s work.”
“No. Humans are different.” Ragnar shook his head, throat tightening. “If I lost her…”
Rand’s face did a funny thing then—funnier than breaking into the widest smile possible. His lip sort of twitched and his brows sort of bent, and Ragnar did not want to see where all of that was going.
“Your invitation to the tavern,” he said in an effort to thwart the other. “Does it still stand?”
The yellow demon nodded, eyes rounding in anticipation like a much younger demon’s might.
“And if I bring someone, would that be acceptable?”
“That would be great!”
Ragnar suspected an embrace might follow the healer’s amiable outburst, and while he might entertain the thought of bringing Brioni along with him to help navigate the social niceties of a tavern full of demons, he was not ready to hug any of those demons just yet, so he took a hefty step back.
“Then perhaps I will see you…when I see you.”
Rand called an excitable farewell as Ragnar left with Kee’cer’uth at his side, but the yellow demon stayed put—a relief.
He then returned to the other veilhounds, and Ragnar decided he would teach Rand their names.
Probably by letter, though that would be difficult.
Perhaps Brioni could fold a veilhound for each and label them somehow—surely she knew the pattern of their coats by now.
Soon, Ragnar and Kee’cer’oth were flanking the forest again, far enough from town to not run into any other demons.
Ragnar ran a hand over the bones of the veilhound’s neck, their smooth sturdiness grounding.
“I have a job for you,” he said as they detoured deeper into the wood.
“One I believe you’ve been looking forward to. ”
When they had traveled many paces into the trees, Ragnar gave her the signal.
Kee’cer’oth’s howl lit up the entire Veilwood, the sound long and low and ghostly as it skimmed through the branches and climbed over the roots and sank into the earth.
A call came back almost immediately, and Ragnar and Kee’cer’uth set off in search of its source.
They arrived at the edge of the Dreadmoor when they finally spied violet eyes.
Blinking slowly from the yellowing mists as if detached, the wild veilhound seemed cautious but welcoming.
At Ragnar’s side, Kee’cer’uth made a friendly sound, and she pawed at the ground in anticipation.
Ragnar scratched one of her ears. “Patience,” he said, watching as the rogue animal raised its head.
Slowly it slinked out of the mist, and Ragnar was taken aback by how emaciated it appeared. The veilhound limped, its injury surely making hunting difficult, but it still made itself vulnerable to whatever Ragnar and Kee’cer’uth might do—a last attempt at survival.
I waited too long, was Ragnar’s first thought, but then he shook his head. The skinny creature was still alive, and that meant it still had a chance.
“Go on,” he whispered to Kee’cer’uth, and she knew just what to do.
The domesticated hound bounded over to the feral one, ignoring the snarl she received for her too quick approach.
Even desperate things retained a little of their fight, and fear too, pain, anger—all sentiments that would perhaps never truly go away, but they could be soothed, folded up, and protected by something better.
Kee’cer’uth dipped her head and crept up to the other of her kind. She whimpered. She snuffled. And finally she licked at its snout.
The injured veilhound lay down flat to the earth before her, a sign of trust as it endured a thorough ear cleaning.
Ragnar tipped his head, surprised at how easy that had been, but then finding the beast any sooner might have made things much harder—maybe even impossible. Perhaps the gods had conspired to bring them together just at the moment they were meant to.
Soulbonds did tend to be right on time, and while Ragnar wasn’t sure veilhounds had such things, he was beginning to wonder if it mattered much in the face of love.