Chapter 10 – Cerberus
CERBERUS
I’m racing through the woods when I catch the scent on the air. Hades’s fucking guard dogs.
Freezing, I inhale again, hoping that my nose is wrong.
But my hellhound’s sense of smell is never wrong.
There are Rotters in these woods, and that fact terrifies me.
Hades might think he can control them like he does everything and everyone else, but I know that he’s wrong.
They’re wild, unpredictable, and dangerous to the nearby town.
I’m sure he sent them here to find me. I’m sure all logic should tell me to turn, shift into my human form, and abandon this town. But I can’t. I just… can’t. Not when I know the people won’t be safe.
My paws pad softly on the forest floor as I follow the scent of the creatures. But as I draw closer, another scent comes to me: blood.
Speeding up, I race through the darkness until the scent is overwhelming, and then I creep slowly forward until I see them. They’ve surrounded a human. A human who’s injured.
Blood drips from his back and from his leg…. and the wounds are bad. Really bad.
Perhaps he’ll die from his injuries, but I won’t have him spend his last moments on this world being torn apart. I know how it feels to be torn apart piece by piece, and I wouldn’t wish it on my greatest enemy.
So, I have no choice but to attack.
And to kill them all.
My legs bunch as the muscles tighten, and then I leap forward. Soaring over the dogs, I land lightly on the ground before the man. Turning my back to him, I face the dogs. A growl tears from my lips, and I watch them cower back.
But neither myself nor my hound are fooled by their submission, because we both know their orders will quickly overwhelm their fear.
Within seconds, I see it. Their backs straightening. Their fear vanishing.
They must attack me. They have no choice. A god’s order to his creations overwhelms everything, even their instincts.
But we’re old enemies, and this dance is a familiar one to me. So I give into the desire of my hellhound to take control, and I watch as if from afar as my hellhound destroys them one by one. She bites into their flesh. She tears off their limbs. It’s a bloodbath of death and carnage.
But here, away from the Underworld, the beasts can’t respawn. Their bodies simply melt into black piles of disgusting mush. Leaving nothing behind to show signs that they encountered me. For all Hades knows, their lives ended by any number of dangerous beings.
At least I hope so. Otherwise, he’ll just send more creatures after me here. More dangerous ones.
When all of the dogs are dead, I look to the human man. He’s fallen to his knees, a sword clenched in his hands. I’m startled to see the sword. I’d thought it was a weapon no longer used by humans.
I guess I learn something new every day.
Going to him, I move slowly, afraid to awaken his fight or flight instinct, but he doesn’t move. And yet, he doesn’t fall over. Pushing his arm gently with my nose, I see him almost topple.
His unfocused gaze lands on me, and I realize he’s more than just struggling because of his injuries. The Rotters have poisonous bites. But after so many years of fighting the creatures, I’ve grown immune to it.
But now I suddenly remember what the effects of it are like. I would see the undead humans on the island after they were bitten. They had the same unsteady look on their faces as the poison slowly moved through their body, leaving them weak and confused.
I knew on the island they would collapse, and I’d drag them back down through the tunnels. But what would the poison do to this man if left to fester within him?
I didn’t want to know, and luckily for this man, I knew the cure.
Even if it was an unpleasant one.
Moving under his arm, I turn and try to help him stand. He attempts to use me to accomplish it, but falls once more on his knees. At last, he puts the sword away.
“You’re… trying… to help me?”
I do my best to nod in my hellhound form.
His pale, almost white eyes lock onto mine, and something unspoken passes between us.
Then, and only then, do we start our slow way back to town.
He leans heavily on me, half-crawling. Time ticks away.
I consider shifting into my human form, but I don’t.
Deep down I can’t bring myself to reveal my other form to him.
I think he’ll survive these bites and the poison.
I don’t know if he could survive knowing another world of magic, immortals, and gods exists outside of his understanding.
I’ve heard of humans locked up for making such claims. I wouldn’t want that for this man.
But then maybe the creepy dogs will be enough to have him questioning everything he’s known about his world.
My gaze goes to his ashen face. His hair is dark brown and matted in blood, and it hangs over his face. But beneath it, I see a handsome man. A man with strength, and a whole life ahead of him.
The poison should screw with his memories enough to make all of this seem like a bad dream. Maybe his injuries will remind him that he was attacked by dogs, but it should be enough to help gloss over the whole Rotters thing.
At least I can hope it’ll be enough.
He’s breathing hard. Stopping to rest more. I don’t communicate with him in his mind, but I urge him with my own thoughts to keep going. We’re so close. Just a little further and I can get him to someone who can help.
Finally, he sags, losing his grip around my back. When he lies on the ground, I push him with nose.
He doesn’t move. His chest still rises and falls, but otherwise he remains still.
In my hellhound form, I’m big enough and powerful enough to drag him the rest of the way with my teeth. But he’ll sustain more injuries to his already broken body.
I look at him again. He’s unconscious. He won’t see me change. He won’t have to know about me or this world.
Closing my eyes, I shift, my bones breaking painfully, my flesh pulling and stretching.
When I return to my human form, I’m breathing hard, and I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been injured too. My adrenaline must be fading.
I need to drag this man back to my home before my own strength fades.
Leaning down, I struggle, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, and slowly stand. I’m a little surprised as I drag him along. Normally my superior strength means lifting a man wouldn’t be difficult in the least, but this man is heavier than I expected.
I’m beyond grateful when I see my apartment complex. For a minute, I hesitate in the shadows, remembering that I’m completely naked and bleeding, and the man I’m carrying is bleeding too. But then, when I don’t see anyone, I decide the hell with it and dart out.
Hurrying as fast as I can carry him, I drag him up the stairs.
I don’t have the keys to my apartment, but this crap-hole isn’t exactly built solidly, so I just kick in the door.
Wincing at the sound, I drag him inside and close the door behind us.
Letting him sink onto the title near the door, I force the door back into place and manage to get the lock well enough to keep the door shut.
Instantly, I hear the apartment across from mine open, and I give a silent thanks that I made it inside before they saw me.
Then I limp across the apartment, turn on the shower, heating it up, and return to the strange wounded guy on my floor.
With the effectiveness of a doctor, I strip him, then hoist him back on my shoulder.
Dragging him through the apartment, I manage to get him in the shower, where I watch the water turn red.
Letting him sink onto the bottom of the tub, I sit near his feet, panting, trying to find the strength to do what’s next.
The water slowly warms up, and after a time, I realize that it almost feels good.
I let the warmth sink into me, then begin scrubbing my wounds beneath the spray.
I’m lucky I’m not human, because judging by my many wounds, the dog’s poison would have left me as badly injured as the strange man.
When I’m done, I turn to him. Grabbing soap, I scrub him down and scrub out his wounds. I’m satisfied to see that the injuries aren’t nearly as bad as I first thought. But still, I don’t like knowing the poison is inside of him.
I’m also increasingly glad he’s unconscious. It’d be strange being in here with him naked, but I could handle it. It’s the scrubbing of the wounds that would make this horrible. I can’t imagine how much this would hurt if he was conscious. Not everyone is as numb to pain as I am.
When I’m done, and the water begins to run clearer, I climb out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around myself, I turn off the water, then grab another towel and dry him the best I can.
For a minute I stare at his wounds, wondering what I should do. If I bring him to a hospital, they won’t know about the poison. I’d have to sneak in, and if I couldn’t, he might die. But I can’t just leave his wounds open…
And then I remember my kit. I have it for when I go on runs with the veterinarian… and I think it might have everything I need to stitch him up.
Running back into the living room, I pick up the black bag from beside the door and hurry back. Staring down at the man, I contemplate how best to do this. And I also wonder if he’ll appreciate a volunteer at an animal hospital patching him up.
Pushing the thought aside, I get to work, cleaning his wounds, stitching him up, and wrapping his injuries. When I’m done, I’m not entirely satisfied that everything will heal without scarring, but I’m mostly confident that he won’t have any infections.
Helping him up yet again, I drag him through the bathroom and into my bedroom.
It takes some struggling, but I get him lying on the bed, then cover him up.
At last, I sink into a chair, staring at the sleeping man.
My legs and arms are shaking. A headache is pounding at the back of my skull, but I’m almost done.
I just need to keep going a little longer.
Already my injuries have stopped bleeding, so even though they’re sore, I ignore them. Dressing in a pair of shorts and a tank top, I manage to reach the edge of the bed. Staring down at the man, I take several deep breaths.
Old memories come back to me, of my friend Lamia, another monster like me.
She’d washed up on the shore of the island I’d guarded, then entered the woods without knowing the danger.
I remembered hearing the fight, the dogs whimpering, and the angry noises of a person.
But my collar wouldn’t allow me to see what was happening.
And then she’d stepped safely onto the path, and I’d offered her my help.
She managed to stay for two weeks there, with me giving her the sustenance she needed to survive, before she had to leave. It was an amazing time for me. I had someone to talk to. She’d even tried to help me escape, but the collar, made by a god, was unbreakable.
From her I learned many things. I learned that being a female monster was hard for all of us. I learned that we should stick together and help each other as much as possible. And I learned how to give someone my blood in the cleanest way possible.
Lamia fed on blood. Needed it to survive. And I’d given her mine.
And learned that my blood held an immunity to the dogs’ bite that saved Lamia. So now, I knew how to help this man, even if the idea turned my stomach.
Lamia could open up the skin of my wrist gently with her fangs. She hated doing it. She sometimes lost control and needed for me to beat her back, but I knew now what to do, even if it wasn’t as clean with me.
Taking a knife from my nightstand, I turn my wrist to the side, not wanting to hit a major vein.
Slicing just a tiny sliver of my flesh, I watch the blood rise to the top of my skin.
Then, putting the blade back, I bring my wrist to his lips.
Carefully, I drip the blood into his slightly parted lips until I’m certain I’ve given him enough.
Hopefully he wouldn’t need it again.
But usually people needed the blood a few times.
Cleaning my knife and wrapping my wrist, I stumble to the bed and slip beneath the covers. I will myself to stay awake and watch the man, to ensure he’d lived. But my head feels cloudy, and my eyes feel heavy.
So I decide to sleep for a little while. Just a few hours, I promise myself. And then I’d give him more blood.
Just a few hours.