Page 3 of Shared with the Hellhounds (Halloween Temptation #4)

Seth

T he sun has sunk by the time I get out of class.

I squint up at the full moon. It's bright and glowing an odd faded-yellow color. I pull down on the sleeves of my thick wool coat as I hurry along the cobblestone pathway. Not that it does much good. Underneath my coat, my clothes are still wet. So are my cheeks.

I was the only witch who didn't summon their familiar.

In the distance, I can hear the sounds of celebration already underway as everyone makes their way to the Samhain festival. I shiver and sniffle as I walk. The candlelight from the lampposts guides my way.

Yeah, that's right. St. Salem doesn't have any electricity.

Everything is lit by natural candlelight and firelight or by magical sources. No laptops. No smart phones. The only computers are kept under lock and key by the academy librarians in a special sigil-covered room.

Why? Something about how electricity interferes with ley lines.

St. Salem is full of little odd quirks like that.

I stay on the pathway as I scurry back to the dorms. The wind is really picking up.

A shiver races down my spine. Something feels off.

I hear more than my own footsteps and the groans of the trees as they sway in the wind.

There's a...panting sound. Like someone has been running and they're out of breath.

I stop to look over my shoulder, convinced someone is coming up behind me, but there's nobody there. And nothing. Yet as I look around, I swear I see something out there. Shapes moving among the black and twisted trees.

Two sets of eyes. Watching me. Blinking red.

I rub my face. When I look again, the strange sight has vanished. The darkness of the woods is just dark. No man. No beast. Maybe a spirit? But if it is, they're not mine.

Probably just someone's wayward feline familiar from class.

Fat stormy clouds sweep in and block most of the moonlight. Maybe it'll rain tonight. Good. I embrace the sudden spike of bitterness curdling inside of me. I hope it pours down, raining cats and dogs to go along with all the familiar spirits.

Surely that's got to be a spell too.

The heavy oaken doors to the dorm creak as loud as a scream when I open them, but the entire building is as quiet as a grave.

Nobody is here. I'm all alone. Though...

it doesn't feel that way. There's movement out of the corner of my eye.

A shadow crawls out of the parlor. Yet when I blink and look at it directly, it's gone.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I take the long, spiral staircase up two at a time.

My assigned room is on the top floor and at the end of the hall. All I want to do is shuck off my wet clothes, get warm, and curl up with a book for the rest of the night. No, for the rest of Samhain. With a cupboard stocked with snacks, I can hide away until classes start up after the holiday.

My room is dark. And freezing.

The other witches have automated spells to light everything up whenever they step into a room, but that's too advanced for me.

I haven't been able to successfully pull off a fire spell.

Last time I tried, I lit my sleeve on fire.

And as today proved, I've also set things on fire without even meaning to do it.

I might have burned down the whole classroom if I hadn't also messed up twice in a row by bringing forth that water too.

Professor Hawthorne made me sit in the corner, watching and taking notes while everyone else finished calling forth their familiar spirits.

At the end of class, he told me I could try again next Samhain, and mentioned that a feline might be too complicated for me.

That I'd be better off summoning something simple.

Like a toad.

Biting on the inside of my cheek, I use a match to light a few candles so I can see my hands as I add a fresh log of wood in the fireplace and throw on some kindling.

Lighting that fire is quick and easy. Within seconds, it chases away the cold and the dark.

The gentle flick of flames and quiet crackling turn it into a cozy space as I hang up my hat and coat.

I take a peek out the window as I wait for my tea to brew. The wind howls through the woods surrounding the dorm, and the moon is only a sliver in the sky. I grab a towel to dry off my hair and think over my reading options as I open my wardrobe.

I've picked out a set of pajamas, and decided on my book, when my window flies open.

More than a gust of wind whips into my room.

Darkness sneaks in. It's more than a mere shadow.

It moves like liquid. As the eerie wind knocks over a bunch of knick-knacks on my desk and sends papers flying, the dark circles rapidly around the candles.

They're snuffed out all at once. The only light source left for me to see is the fire.

Though that's invaded next as the insidious darkness pours into the fireplace.

I'm left frozen in place as the howling wind turns into real wolfish baying. It sounds like a song. Or a conversation. Two animals howling at one another, and with each howl it gets closer and closer, until it feels like there's a pack pawing at the walls of my room.

Am I going crazy?

Or this could be another cruel joke being played on me by the Charmwell twins.

I stumble through the dark toward the window. With shaking hands, I pull it shut and put the latches firmly in place. As I turn around, the fire bursts back to life. One by one, the candles flicker on.

What in the world...?

Or maybe what in the otherworld would be more accurate. The candlelight and firelight aren't cozy anymore. It's ghoulish. Tinted a lusty red instead of a comforting orange and yellow. And I'm not alone. Something is here with me.

A set of shadows skitter across the floor.

It's too fast for me to discern the shape or size.

The howling quiets and is replaced by panting.

The same cadence of pants I heard earlier.

I follow the sound and look over at my mirror.

The surface has fogged over with a strange message written on it: draw thy circle.

"Who's there?" I ask. "What do you want?"

The only answer I receive is an invisible hand drawing a circle in the mirror.

Against my better judgment, I snatch my bag and dump its contents onto the floor.

I'm scared, but I'm also curious. If I find out what's happening, I'll know how to stop it.

Steady hands. Calm mind. I pick up the chalk and right there on the wooden flooring of my dorm room; I redraw the summoning circle by memory.

All on my own, I make the shapes and speak the words. I do the ritual; I cast the spell. Though I don't make an offering. No iris. No catnip. I sprinkle salt all over the floor.

The circle glows. Faint red, almost pink, but as I end the chant, it burns red. Smoke rises from the circle's sigils, but there's no spontaneous fire this time.

Something grows inside the circle.

A shadow at first, but then a shape. A solid form.

It twists and twists, silent, but then the howling starts once more.

The howling forms its own shape. Teeth. Shiny.

Sharp. Pure white. The blackness stretches.

Wispy until it takes on a texture. It grows fur.

A gnarly, tangled mass of thick black fur.

Two shapes. Two mouths.

And two tails.

"What...what are you?" I ask this beast-like spirit. This is nothing like the small and quaint feline familiar spirits my classmates summoned. Whatever I've invited isn't that. The beast opens both mouths, but it speaks no words. Only sound. The split and crack of firewood being chopped in half.

It snaps its jaws open and shut to speak again, but the second try doesn't fare much better than the first. The sound it makes is terrible.

Screams. Shouts. A dozen different voices clashing against each other.

It's too loud. I wince, palms pressed flat over my ears.

I try to listen over the pain, but it's too much. I don't know what they're saying.

Those teeth shift into a silent snarl.

I try again too. "Why are you here?" I lift my hands from my ears and cross them over my chest. I warily eye the circle. This thing seems stuck inside the inner circle. While its giant paws are close to the lines, it hasn't crossed over. It can't. The circle holds.

"Summoned." It finally speaks. The voice it speaks in is raspy. Like a death rattle. "You call. We answer."

No way. My eyes widen, and my breath catches in my throat. "How many of you are there?"

"One and one."

So, two spirits. Unless this is a riddle. Or it's all one big trick. I shake my head, not ready to believe a word slipping out between all those teeth. This is dangerous. I should banish this spirit back where it came from and alert Professor Hawthorne about what happened...but then what?

I'll probably get in trouble.

He might never let me try summoning a familiar again.

And without a familiar, I won't be a proper witch, fully educated and practiced in all aspects of the craft.

I'll be relegated to hedge-witch status for the rest of my life.

Only dealing with small-scale potion brewing and tending to herb gardens.

No, that can't happen. I don't want that. I've only just started learning about my magic and gaining experience in witchcraft. It'll kill me to be locked out of so much knowledge.

I swallow hard and look right into the beast's eyes. Or at least that's where eye sockets should be. But instead of eyeballs, there's only flame. "What do you want with me?"

"Protect."

"Serve."

It speaks as two instead of one. Though both use the same voice.

It's grown in strength and has taken on a distinctive masculine tone.

Deep. Gruff. That's the voice of an older man who's all rough and tumble.

That isn't unpleasant to my ears. Not at all.

It makes my stomach do a little flip. I do my best to ignore that reaction as I shuffle in place, still eye-balling the safety of the circle.

I keep asking it questions. Trying to decide if the risk is worth the reward. "Where did you come from?"

"While they rule, we watch the gate."

"We let them out and keep them in."

"We usher them inside and drag them back."

I stare at their flaming eyes and black furry shapes. Not just any beast, but a wolfish one. It clicks into place. "You're hellhounds."

"Yes," they answer together, "your kin has given us many names."

Their red eyes are bright. Their teeth gleam.

"You invited us, Seth Grimshaw, and we came. Every witch needs a familiar. Let us be yours."

Taking on the hellhound of Hell as my familiar spirit? There must be some sort of Witch law against that. Yet, as I glance down at my still-damp clothes and think about not only my day, but my entire year at St. Salem, I'm tempted to accept the offer.

I've tried so hard to be good, but it's all been for nothing.

If I can't be a good witch...maybe I should embrace being a bad witch.