Chapter 3 – Cerberus
CERBERUS
Two months later…
The music in the human club is pounding.
In my human form I find the music irritating, in my hellhound form I would tear this place down to the rafters…
until every last note was burned from this world.
Sometimes having superior hearing is a curse.
But my superior eyes have a use here. Between the dark and the flashing lights, I can deliver the humans their liquor with ease.
Something many of the other waitresses struggle to do.
Even though I suspect it might be because of the couple of open bottles of vodka they keep hidden in the storage room.
“How are your tips?”
I spin away from the counter, where I’ve been waiting for the bartender to complete a tray full of shots.
Stacy Mettler is behind me. Her breasts seem even larger tonight. They’re pushed up so high they’re nearly dwarfing her neck, and her shirt is see-through, showing off the red bra underneath. My gaze moves back up to her face, concealed by dark makeup.
“My tips are decent. You?”
She grins. “More than decent.” Her gaze goes to one of her VIP tables, overflowing with drunken men. “I got a bachelor party.”
“I prefer to deal with the women.”
“Really?” she asks, then winks. “I had no idea.”
I frown. “They don’t always tip as well, but they’re less irritating.”
She throws back her head and laughs. “A little irritation is fine, if it pays the bills!”
I think of my tiny apartment and my mostly empty fridge.
Yes, money is required to live as a human. And the animal shelter I volunteer at some days can’t pay me. So, she’s right, a little irritation is worth continuing to live this life.
Even if I don’t like it.
“My old clothes look nice on you!” she says, her gaze roaming over me.
I look down. My shirt is black, with several buttons left open on top. The skirt is black too, and short. And my boots are tall, but comfortable.
The human’s clothes were a great blessing to me. They helped me blend in. They almost make me feel like a person worthy of things I like. Almost.
“I like them,” I tell her.
She laughs. “You’re welcome.”
I frown. So many of the human things are confusing. I thought I had to say thank you before she’d say ‘you’re welcome.’ Every time I think I understand these fragile beings, I learn I’m wrong.
My gaze sweeps back to the table of ladies who are waiting for their drinks.
They seem… unsteady. I almost want to stop serving them.
How can they possibly protect themselves when they seem to struggle just to speak?
But as the manager has told me, time and time again, that is not my call to make.
It’s theirs. And if there’s one thing I understand, it’s how valuable freedom can be.
So I’ll keep serving them and trust that human adults can make the right choice.
Some strange instinct crawls along my spine.
Instantly, I’m alert. There’s danger—but where?
My gaze continues to scan the bar then freezes on a man and woman speaking, heads close together. She laughs at something he says. He grins like a fool.
This man looks like all the others. A simple, short-lived human and nothing more. So why does my hellhound side feel irritated? Why can I sense the fur on my hound’s back standing on end?
The woman glances away from the man, grabbing her purse off her lap and looking down at her cellphone. My lip curls. The man watches her too keenly. Lifting a hand, he drops something into her drink.
A pill.
A drug.
“He put something in her drink.”
I go to step forward.
Stacy catches my arm.
I almost growl at her as I look back.
“That’s the Chief of Police’s son. He’s also wealthy as fuck.
If we get him in trouble, if we kick him out, that’ll be it for Club Sulfur.
No one will come back to this bar. His dad will slap us with every possible fine.
Trust me, I’ve seen it happen before. Gary, our manager, said we’re not allowed to approach him about any issues.
I mean, I know how you feel, that you want to help.
I felt that way the first time too, but any woman stupid enough to trust a bad guy like that sort of has it coming. ”
It’s hard to breathe. My chest feels tight.
My dad was a bad guy. The fucking king of hell.
Hades himself. Every rumor, every story, told me not to trust him.
But when he put that collar around my throat on my sixth birthday, attaching it to a chain outside of the gates of the Underworld, I was still surprised.
There’s nothing in this world wrong with innocence.
Except that innocent people need people like me—people with souls as black as tar—to keep them safe.
And I will.
“Cerce.” Stacy has a slightly desperate note to her voice.
“I’m not going to do anything.”
Something in the way her hands tighten on my arm tells me she doesn’t believe me. “I know what he does to those girls. It’s happened more times than I can count. But at least they won’t remember it.”
I shake her off my arm. That’s the fucking stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. Not remembering does not make being hurt any better. But then, Stacy has a kid to feed and a rough life, she can’t afford to risk this job. I can.
“Cerce!”
I turn.
The bartender gives me that wicked smile he thinks makes him seem sexy. “Drinks are ready!”
With a sharp nod, I collect my tray and head towards my table of women, near the man who will soon feel my wrath. As I turn to face the women at the table, my movements are a jerk of power, so quick and powerful that the humans can’t possibly follow what I’ve done.
The poisoned drink knocks to the ground and shatters on the floor.
The woman squeals and jumps off her barstool, away from the mess, while the man looks from the mess to me, very slowly.
I force a smile I already know makes people uneasy. But fuck them, this is probably the best smile any hellhound has ever had.
“Sorry, I’ll clean that up.”
A sweet bar-back, whose name I don’t yet know, is there in an instant. He carries a broom and dustpan, instantly setting to work.
I thank him, and he gives a shy nod.
Then I turn back and set the shots out for my table.
Everything I do is casual. Calculated. But I watch that fucking slimeball until the bar closes and they let me go. He doesn’t try to poison the woman again, but that won’t save him now.
I can’t fight the beast within me. The one who wants to punish the bad. The part of myself that dragged screaming souls into the Underworld and refused to allow them to escape.
My hellhound must be satisfied. She must punish people like this man.
And tonight… that’s exactly what she’ll do.