Page 21 of Hounded (Fire & Brimstone)

21

Loren

My hound was howling by the time I made it to the parking lot. He clawed at my brain like it was a closed door, whining and raising a ruckus that burst out of me the moment I was inside the cab of my truck.

A wild cry ripped up my throat, and I pounded my fist against the steering wheel. It was lucky I didn’t break the damned thing.

I slumped in the upholstered seat, my chest heaving and my eyes burning while I did my best to glare a hole through the headliner. I was failing at this. Failing at everything.

I couldn’t keep Indy alive. Couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t save myself from the fate I’d bought in blood.

And now Whitney was gone, handed off to Nero like property passing from one hand to another. At the Howl for Hope gala, Karst had been surprised to learn we were human. Moira’s response to that rang truer than ever before.

“They were.”

But, while she claimed she’d made us into something more, I felt immeasurably less.

Shoving my keys into the ignition, I turned the engine over and let it idle. I planned to drive aimlessly—endlessly—but when I steered the C10 onto the road, it followed the familiar path into the city toward the Urban Easel art gallery.

It was mid-morning, so Sully would be busy with work, but that didn’t stop me from dragging through the front doors and past a well-heeled man studying a still life by the window. Other patrons milled, including a few regulars I knew to be designers who rented art pieces to stage upscale Manhattan flats.

Sully stood on the left side of the space, wearing a patchwork dress and beaded jewelry, with a bandana tying her locs back from her face. I hadn’t found her first or chosen to bring her into our lives, but I was glad Indy had insisted on it. He knew I needed a friend, and the local witch fit that bill.

She was occupied, though, chatting with an older couple. All three of them held glasses of wine and shared a congenial laugh as I padded across the room.

Spotting me, Sully called over, “Just a minute, Lore.”

I nodded, blind to the beauty of the artwork surrounding me. Padding through the space, I came to a stop beside Sully’s desk and leaned against it. I meant to wait patiently, but the sickness festering inside me bubbled up, and I whimpered. It was my hound’s sound coming from my lips.

The pitiful cry worked as effectively as an alarm, and Sully whirled around, her dreadlocks fanning across her shoulders. “Lore?” she asked .

It was a scuffle from there. She excused herself from the conversation and came over to grab me by the elbow. She led me toward the back of the gallery while speaking in hushed tones.

“Are you hurt? Is Indy okay? Honey, you’re crying…”

Pushing through the door at the rear of the building, we entered a vacant stairwell. Sully’s apartment was on the third floor, and she may have meant to take me there, but my legs locked up the moment we reached the base of the steps.

Her fingers around my arm felt constricting, overwhelming. I shrugged her off and took a single, stumbling step back to press against the cold brick wall.

I rubbed my face, wishing I still had the excuse of the shower for the moisture streaking my cheeks.

“It’s that demon bitch, isn’t it?” Sully asked.

My lack of response proved answer enough, and Sully made a gruff noise in the back of her throat. “God, I’d love to have a go at her,” she grumbled.

My palms blanketed my face while the rough mortar lines on the wall scrubbed my spine. I felt out of place. Disconnected from this tall, narrow room and the woman standing across from me. While I didn’t see her expression, I heard her empathy as she spoke.

“It’s all right, Lore. You’re here now. You’re safe… Look at me, hon.”

When I didn’t budge—it was taking all my mental capacity to breathe—her voice took on a lower pitch.

“Loren,” she said, then repeated. “Look at me.”

“Can’t,” I gritted out.

It was a step too far. An advance when I wanted to retreat. Into myself, if I could, away from the world and all its sharpness. The bumpy wall grated over my back again, and I wanted to run from it, too, to slide slowly down and down and down.

Sully heaved a breath. “You hear me, though, don’t you? You’re listening?”

I nodded.

“Go on up to my apartment. I’m gonna take an early lunch. Have you eaten?”

I shook my head.

With a mildly scolding sound, she continued, “There’s cold cuts in the fridge and sourdough in the breadbox. Make us a couple sandwiches and, by the time you’re done, I’ll be ready. Then we can talk.”

My head throbbed with the threat of a migraine as I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes. It felt counterintuitive to combat the pressure in my skull by adding more, but it was all I could do to keep tears at bay.

“Honey?” Sully murmured after I failed to move. “Can I hug you?"

It meant something that she asked, giving me a choice along with a measure of control I rarely had. As much as I felt gritty and dirty and raw, I felt lonely most of all. I’d barely begun to nod when she slipped her arms around my waist and pulled me into an embrace.

I cried then. My tears dripped into Sully’s hair while she smoothed her hand in circles over my back. Her customers were waiting, but she didn’t mention it and didn’t rush me. When I was composed enough to stand on my own, I leaned back, and she wiped her thumbs under my eyes to dry them .

“Okay,” she said, catching my skittish gaze. “Up you go. I’m right behind you.”

With a wobble of my aching head, I started up the steps. Two flights of cement stairs brought me to Sully’s front door, a slab of purple-stained wood with no knob or keyhole.

I didn’t remember when Sully gave me the spare key to her place, only that it had seemed random. I hadn’t needed it or even asked, she just tied the braided leather cord around my wrist and told me I was always welcome. All I had to do was put my palm against the door, and the surface warmed to my touch. Then it opened, inviting me into the cozy darkness of Sully’s flat.

The air was hazy from burning incense, and the smell of jasmine sweetened every breath. Cushions littered the floor, interspersed with rag rugs, and shelves lined every wall. Books were stacked from floor to ceiling, crowded in alongside arcane items like crystals and candles. Mirrors bounced the muted light back and forth, giving the space a sort of glow.

My hound loved it here. His tail waved like a flag as he pranced circles inside my throbbing skull.

I wandered into the kitchen, by far the most mundane part of the space, and stopped at the sink where I ran some water to splash on my face and draw out the heat.

After drying my cheeks on a hand towel, I found the sandwich ingredients where Sully said they would be. Putting the meal together hardly counted as cooking, but it was the most I’d done since I moved out of the Airstream. The end result was the most edible-looking thing I’d seen in days .

I rifled the pantry for crackers or chips and found both, settling on wheat crackers for myself and leaving both bags out for Sully to load her own plate. I’d gone for something to drink when the apartment door swung open again, and Sully strode in. Dozens of candles lit in unison, and the record player in the corner sprung to life. The turntable spun, and the arm dropped into place to produce the first crackling notes of a classical piece. Something by Tchaikovsky.

Sully approached me with a smile. “Now, where were we?”

She filled a kettle and set it to boil while I updated her about the situation in Hell. After we finished our sandwiches, I told her about the meeting with Nero. When I got to the part about Whitney, I almost lost it again. Seeing Moira, the person who wielded absolute control over me, rendered powerless, had shaken me to my core. And the idea that I, too, could be passed into new ownership with barely a word exchanged in the process was chilling. Not to mention that the image of Whitney kneeling before his new master was one I had not been able to banish from my mind.

Over the course of the conversation, Sully and I moved to the living room floor cushions. She sat cross-legged while I braced back on my arms, studying the stars cast across the ceiling by a trio of hanging lights.

“What about Indy?” Sully asked about the party notably absent from my dialogue. “Since you’re here instead of with him, I take it things aren’t great.”

My brow furrowed as I recalled the events from only an hour prior. “He walked in on me in the shower,” I said .

She dunked a bag of chamomile tea into her mug and bobbed it up and down. “Are you staying at the trailer?”

I shook my head. “I was at the bathhouse. Indy showed up. It was bad timing.”

“Did he make a move?” Sully sipped her drink through a tight-lipped smile. “Maybe a little sexual healing is what you two need. Loosen things up. Reconnect.”

I stilled. I couldn’t stomach the thought of being intimate with anyone. Couldn’t she see that? She’d clearly read what had been written on my face when I stumbled in here.

“Sex is the last thing I need,” I replied. “Relationship advice is a close second.”

She grimaced and set her teacup on a low side table. “You’re right. I overstepped. But I think I have the lay of things now. How can I help?”

I laid further back with my legs outstretched and my arms bent at the elbows. It was hard to explain and harder to admit that when I should have been gearing up for a fight, I was cowering instead.

For so long, Indy had been my secret. Now that he’d been found, it was like we’d reached the end of the countdown to a game of hide and seek. We had time to ready ourselves for the hunt, but nothing could prepared me to stand alone between dozens of savage hellhounds and their quarry.

“The wards aren’t enough,” I said. “I’m not sure anything will be.”

“Have you told Indy yet?” Sully asked. “About himself? What he is?”

I looked aside .

“Maybe if he was informed, he could defend himself,” Sully continued. “I have a few books that reference phoenixes. You’re welcome to borrow them or let Indy read through them.”

My face pinched, and I scrubbed my hand over it again. “That’s just it. He’s not himself anymore. He’s lost more than his memories. His powers are fading. And for me to tell him about something he’ll never have feels cruel.”

Sully’s brow took on a suspicious slant. She hadn’t known Indy long enough to observe the decline. Neither of us flaunted our powers in polite company. We wouldn’t have been able to hide among humanity for so long if we did.

After a moment, Sully stood and walked over to one of the wall shelves. She slid books aside and tipped them out to inspect their aged covers.

“So, he’s not just resetting, he’s regressing?” she asked. “Becoming more human?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes I worry what will go next and what will be left at the end of it all. Then I wonder if this is the end, and if it wouldn’t be kinder if it was.”

I didn’t confess the thought that had flitted through my mind minutes before Indy’s ashes began to reform. The scant seconds when I hoped he wouldn’t come back because I was beaten even then. Both life and death had defeated me.

Sully paused her rifling to glance at me. “That’s awfully dark, Lore.”

I pushed upright and swiveled to face her. “Do you know why he died? ”

“He ran out of time?”

I’d let her believe that till now because I didn’t want her to look at Indy differently. The stigma of addiction was bad enough without adding suicide on top of it. But I wanted her to know. I needed her to understand why everything was different this time.

“We should’ve had years left together, but he ended it,” I said, tasting acid on my tongue. “He choked down a handful of pills and died.”

Sully gasped, but I carried on through it.

“He killed himself.” Hearing it out loud strummed a chord of loss so profound it made me shiver. “He left me.”

She’d given up her search and stood looking aghast, hanging onto the bookshelf as though my admission would have bowled her over otherwise. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice small. “Maybe it was an accident…”

“He was so unhappy that he wanted to die, and he didn’t tell me.” I stared at the starry ceiling, failing to rein in the emotions I’d suppressed for weeks. They were finally escaping, finding room to grow and spread and leaving me breathless.

“He used to tell me everything,” I said. “But I think I understand because I’m fucking miserable and, even if I told Indy, he couldn’t fix it.” I rolled my head toward Sully again. “So, what’s the point?”

“In telling him?” she asked.

“In living.”

Sully made a sympathetic sound. “Oh, honey, no…”

I pushed to my feet, then dusted my hands down my jeans. “Doesn’t matter,” I muttered. “I don’t think I could even die without Miss’s permission and, now that Whitney’s gone, she’ll never let me go.”

I returned to the kitchen and filled the mug beside the kettle with hot water. Another teabag had been set out along with a cow-shaped creamer dish and a bowl of sugar. I dropped the teabag in to steep, then watched as the leaves stained the water sepia brown.

Across the room, Sully tucked a book under her arm. A pair of tortoiseshell spectacles materialized on her face.

“Maybe the drugs have something to do with it,” she mumbled, more a thought than a statement.

I cocked my head.

She ticked her finger in the air. “I’m gonna work on your problem, too, but this just occurred to me.” Moving forward, she brought her mug and the dusty old tome to the kitchen island across from me. “How long has Indy been using?”

My nose scrunched as I considered. “Always,” I said. “The man who had him before me pumped him full of opium. Kept him docile.” Recounting even a fraction of that story made my hound bristle, and I gave a corresponding all-over shudder.

“Now it’s uppers,” I continued. “Party drugs. I don’t think he’s ever been clean.” Not as long as I’d known him. As for how many years that monster kept him trapped, drawing blood and plucking feathers while flooding Indy’s body with poison… I couldn’t begin to guess.

Sully laid her hands on either side of the book as she stared at its embossed leather cover. “Sounds like he never had a choice.”

I grunted. “There’s always a choice. ”

Sully gave an abrupt laugh. “That’s a bold statement. Do you think you always have a choice?” Her gaze targeted the chain around my neck. There was no missing her meaning.

I raised my hand to brush across the steel links of my collar. “This isn’t about me.”

“It kind of is, though.” Sully braced her arms across her chest, causing her stacked necklaces to rattle. “You’re avoiding him. That’s why you’re here, right? And it sounds like you’re mad at him. You’re allowed to be hurt. But like you said, he was hurting, too.”

I scrutinized the color of my tea before deciding to add a splash of cream and two scoops of sugar. I swirled the spoon around in the cup while Sully continued.

“I’ll think about your hellhound problem, and the other…” She trailed off. “But you should do some thinking, too.”

I frowned. “About what?”

The lights above the island cast shadows across Sully’s umber skin as her expression grew somber. “Do you still want a relationship with him?”

Uncertainty held my tongue.

“It’s not easy loving an addict,” Sully said. “And Indy’s complicated. All the heartache and loss, the cycle of it, that’s a lot to take on.”

“I can’t leave him.” I shook my head. “He doesn’t have anyone else.”

Before the suicide, I wouldn’t have dreamed of abandoning Indy or of carrying on in eternity without him. He was my constant, my comfort, my best friend, and my beloved. But if he wanted to escape me, to cut short our precious time together, perhaps I was holding too tightly to something better let go.

“It’s instinctive, you know. Looking after him.” Sully’s statement jarred me.

“What do you mean?”

She tipped her cup toward me. “Your hound. It has a job. Besides harvesting souls for some demon.”

My quizzical look spurred her on.

“Hellhounds are guardians,” she explained. “Designated protectors for other supernatural creatures. So, you caring for Indy isn’t just devotion, it’s also duty.” She smiled, and I frowned.

I’d love him anyway.

It was an unnecessary argument, meant for the beast inside me who first decided our phoenix was a treasure. Devotion, duty, or stubborn determination, it didn’t matter. I would love Indy without the hound and with the drugs.

But I could love him from afar. I could protect him from a distance. It would hurt less eventually, and Indy would forget. Maybe, somehow, I could learn to forget, too.

Sully polished off her tea, then pushed the empty mug aside. “You may not always have a choice, but you do in this. If you want to give things with Indy another try, you should bring him to the exhibition.”

I rolled my eyes, but that only prompted her to come back more adamantly than before.

“It’s Joss fucking Foster!” she insisted. “He’s a big deal. Try to be excited for me.”

The name triggered recognition. My latest assignment from Moira was to reap the soul of the artist Sully was about to host at her gallery. Joss Foster was a big deal because he’d made deals with demons, and now his time was up.

I couldn’t feign enthusiasm, too busy thinking of juggling Sully’s and possibly Indy’s attentions in a room full of strangers while trying to find a way to lure the guest of honor away from his own party.

“It’s next Friday night,” Sully carried on. “If you come alone, that’s fine, too. You can be my date. Give the people something to gossip about.”

I dredged my spoon through my tea. “I’ll be there,” I replied. Though she might come to wish I wouldn’t be.