Heroes and a Hellhound: Book One

by Eleanor Rousseau

  I glanced thoughtfully at her, then it clicked and I nodded. “Yeah, but that guy really had it coming.”

  “I mean, he did sell me his soul.”

  “And he was an ass,” I added.

  “He did have a good one, too.”

  “Still doesn’t beat Henry Cavill’s ass though,” I murmured. That man had a damn nice ass.

  “Damn straight!” Terra agreed, she held up a hand and I reached out to slap it. She was a smart kid.

  “Wait, a goat!!” Rosa and Juliette said, almost in sync. Apparently, they were still caught on that small fact.

  “Hell, I’d sell my soul for Cavill,” I murmured, distracted by thoughts of the actor.

  “You do and I’ll slash his throat,” called Timothy from the other room.

  I grinned, he was jealous. How cute. “Love you too, sweetie.”

  “Well, this is great, you can totally annul the marriage now,” Juliette said.

  There was a loud crash from the other room and Timothy stepped into the doorway “Encourage her to annul my marriage and I’ll carve out your innards with a butter knife,” he threatened seriously.

  “Jeez, fine. We won’t say a word.”

  Timothy pointed to me. “You even try it, and I’ll kick your ass all the way back to Hell.”

  I grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it, peaches.” Because over the past year, I had become quite attached to my husband. Level four demons were incredibly useful creatures. Also, I had promised I’d do evil, and what was more evil than a demon?

  “Okay, for now. We’re going to overlook your life of demonic, domestic bliss,” Juliette said, frowning.

  “Good, now, get out. We have plans.” Plans that probably involved sex on the surfaces my friends were currently occupying.

  * * *

  “I made dinner!” I called.

  Timothy stepped into the doorway, wearing jeans and a dark grey dress shirt, open at the collar. “Your cooking sucks.”

  “Well, you can eat it or you can go to hell.”

  He grinned as he took a seat at the table, ignoring my hostility. “Only if you come with me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Shut up, you sappy asshole.”

  “But you love sappy human crap,” he said sarcastically.

  “I’d love to kick your ass, you low-level swine,” I muttered as I sat down opposite him.

  “I’m the highest level demon who will ever grace your presence,” he taunted.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Of course, you’d probably get way too jealous if I started hanging out with other, more powerful, men.”

  “Now you’re just trying to upset me.” He placed a bottle on the table in front of me. “Your favourite.”

  I smiled and opened the bottle, pouring myself a drink. “Thank you.”

  “Of course, now you’re in my debt,” he teased.

  “Not for long.” I placed a neatly wrapped box on the table.

  He quirked a brow at the wrapping but quickly opened it and pulled out a dark blade. “You shouldn’t have, it’s beautiful,” he told me as he studied the blade, then tested its balance.

  It was the best money could buy, made from an ore not found in this dimension and forged in Hellfire. It was a truly beautiful blade and it meant I would own him for a long time.

  He lightly traced the patterns carved into the hilt. “Norse?”

  “Mmhmm.” At that moment my phone started ringing.

  “Ignore it,” the demon ordered.

  I rejected the call and set the phone aside. “So, you like it?”

  * * *

  The phone started ringing again.

  “All right, answer it, you pain in the ass,” Timothy murmured.

  I reached over for the phone and yawned. “Layton House of Horrors, home to a hellhound. How can I help you?” I answered.

  “Are you okay? Where the hell are you?” Juliette asked.

  “Right now? In bed. Where are you?” I murmured, stretching out. Every inch of my body was sore, an impressive feat, considering how fast I healed.

  “We’ve been out getting our asses kicked, thanks to you.”

  “Mm, you’re welcome. Didn’t I already tell you I was taking the day off?”

  “This was life or death.”

  “Isn’t it often life or death? Besides, my life is at risk here, too. You guys left me alone with a level four demon, and he has a knife.”

  He shot me an amused look. “Did I thank you for that yet?”

  I grinned up at him; he had thanked me very very thoroughly, and in a variety of different positions. “If I had left, he probably would have flayed me alive.”

  He shook his head. “Too messy. I’d probably just start cutting off digits.” He took my free hand and raised it to his lips, nipping at my fingertips with his teeth. He wasn’t too gentle about it, either. The tease.

  “Well, I can see your anniversary is going well. Are death threats a normal thing between you two?” Juliette grumbled. I was starting to get the impression that she was displeased with me.

  “I probably wouldn’t die from it. My husband is quite the sadist; he’d likely keep me alive for weeks,” I mused.

  “Well then, that’s so much better,” she said, voice thick with sarcasm.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an anniversary to get back to. I promise to make an appearance at the next bake sale. Ta ta.” I hung up the phone and turned to my husband. “Now where were we?”

  He grinned. “Season six, but we’re almost out of ice cream and it’s your turn to do a food run.”

  I groaned. “But I don’t even have to eat,” I protested.

  “Then you shouldn’t have eaten most of the last tub. Get your ass moving,” he ordered.

  I bared my fangs at him in a snarl.

  “You won’t distract me by flirting,” he teased, baring his own teeth which grew sharp, like a shark’s. The look was altogether disconcerting.

  I huffed but climbed from the bed, changed out of my oversized t-shirt—which read ‘Is it gay in here, or is it just me?’—and started to get dressed. I should probably stop stealing the LGBT society’s merch. “Next time we have to stock up on ice cream beforehand.”

  “It would be easier if you didn’t stockpile blood in the freezer.”

  “Excuse me if I need to drink to survive,” I said tartly.

  “Shut up and get moving,” he growled. I glared at him. “Come here,” he ordered as I pulled on my boots. Contrary bastard. I huffed again to show my annoyance but walked over to him. He pulled me down to kiss me for a long moment, his mouth warm and unyielding.

  “Put a damn shirt on, if Mrs. Anderson sees you walking around like that you’ll give the poor woman a heart attack,” I muttered.

  “I do what I want,” he stated, leaning back and resting a hand behind his head, flexing his muscles.

  I just laughed softly on my way out the door.

  23

  23 - Shopping Trip

  Nevaeh -

  “So… how’s Tim?” Terra asked, taking a photo of her coffee.

  “Still a dick. And he’s been acting super clingy, I think I was too nice to him on our anniversary,” I said, drinking my coffee, instead of treating it like art.

  “That’s the thing with men, you do one kind thing and suddenly they expect you to be Betty fucking Crocker.” She rolled her eyes.

  I wasn’t actually sure who Betty Crocker was, but I’d heard the name before. “Plus, he has that whole demonic evil psychopath thing going, which can be concerning.”

  “Aw, I don’t think he’s an actual psychopath. He’s just, as you’ve said, a bit of a dick.”

  “Enough boy talk, I’m pretty sure we’re failing the Bechdel test right now.” The test was a way of judging books and movies for the way they represented women. It had recently been mentioned in one of our seminars. It said something along the lines of the story needing at least two female characters, and that the characters had to talk about something
other than men.

  Typically, I didn’t have trouble passing the test. I didn’t make a habit of sparing members of the more boorish sex much thought. Talking about them seemed tedious.

  “Well, what do you want to talk about? The lacy underwear you just bought for your husband?” Terra flicked her fingers at my shopping bag.

  “Yeah right, like I’d spend sixty quid on something for Timothy. That underwear is for me. My boobs looks great in satin.” Well, they actually always looked great.

  Her phone rang and I focused on my coffee. “Hold on, I should take this,” she said, picking up her phone. I gestured for her to go ahead.

  She answered at the table but I didn’t listen in. If it had been something interesting, she probably would have tried to take it out of earshot. I took a sip of my coffee and glanced down at my shopping bags. I was probably done shopping for the day, I had spent more than I probably should have on underwear. Then again, there wasn’t much else I had to spend money on.

  “Someone at a jewellery shop hit the silent alarm, we should go.”

  “In the city?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How does anyone know we’re in Truro?”

  She hesitated, then shrugged. “Maybe they saw my Instagram, I think it geotags the pics.”

  That was a possibility, but I wouldn’t put it past Jason to have planted a bug on me. I was going to have to do a search for one later. He probably had an app that could track people. And people thought I was morally ambiguous.

  I took a couple big gulps of my coffee before standing up and following Terra out of the cafe. Thankfully, she seemed to know where she was going. I’d been to Truro more than once, but I still didn’t know it well. And I’d never figured out how to get my phone to tell me the way to go.

  “Jewellery shop. Is this the-” I paused when it became obvious that this was indeed the right place. A guy in a hoodie was holding a salesman at knife point, a fact that was obvious because the entire front wall of the shop was made of glass. I was surprised anyone had bothered hitting the silent alarm.

  The guy wasn’t being subtle.

  I knocked on the window. Terra slapped my hand away. “What are you… doing?” she murmured.

  At my knock, the thief had turned our way and the salesman had taken advantage of the distraction by decking him in the face. He slammed his elbow into the perp’s wrist, making him drop the blade.

  It looked like his guy was going to make our job a hell of a lot easier. “I haven’t been this turned on since I found out Henry Cavill is English,” I murmured.

  Terra shot me a look. “You’re English! Why is that a turn on for you?”

  I gave a half shrug. “You know… geographical reasons.”

  “Okay, I most certainly do not know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “I mean, we both know I’m never going over to America. I’ve already spent enough time in one hell,” I said wryly. “But, if he’s English, chances are he’ll spend some time in England.”

  “Oh, and the chances of you bumping into him and sleeping with him are much higher, I suppose. You hate strangers, and people in general.”

  “I would make an exception,” I said with a wistful sigh.

  “Okay, but what if he had really bad BO?”

  “I’d overlook it.”

  “What if, in texts, he spells thanks ‘THX’?”

  My eye twitched. “I would teach him the right way to spell.”

  “What if he made you socialise with his friends and family?” She eyed me curiously. “He’s a famous actor, he probably has a lot of friends,” she added.

  I glared at her. “Why are you ruining this for me? Who would it hurt to let me-”

  My words were interrupted when Mr muscles threw the wannabe jewel thief through the window that we were standing at.

  “Fuck,” I muttered as a large shard of glass went into my hip. A few smaller shards sliced at my bare forearms. “Ah! Are you okay?” I glanced at Terra, scowling when she appeared unscratched. “Really? You’re fine?” I groused.

  She gave a half hearted shrug.

  I frowned. Given that there was as much glass as her feet as there was at mine, she should have been hurt. I suppose now was as good a time as any for her to learn a new demon power. I plucked the large piece of glass out of my hip, grimacing.

  “Sorry ladies, he almost got the better of me there,” Mr muscles said, stepping carefully through the broken window as he straightened out his suit. Then he rolled the perp onto his back, using his fine Italian loafers. “But that should keep him down.”

  I dropped the bloody piece of glass on the floor with the rest of the glass.

  “You alright, sweetheart?”

  “You, um,” I gestured to the shop behind him, “do you make custom pieces?”

  “For you, yeah, we do.” He winked at me.

  Oh wow. If he wasn’t a salesman, I might’ve had to give him my number.

  “What the fuck was that?” Terra asked as we stepped back out onto the street.

  I scowled at her.

  “‘Do you make custom pieces’,” she mocked.

  I bared my teeth at her. “It was a genuine question. I’m looking to get something made. And he’ll give me a good discount if he doesn’t want to be looking at a lawsuit.”

  “Nevaeh, you’re not suing the fit jeweller,” Terra said.

  “Well, of course I’m not, I’m not American. But he doesn’t know that I won’t and, in case you forgot, I was stabbed. If I let one guy get away with that, then where will I be? People will think they can just go around stabbing me. I don’t like to be stabbed, Terra.”

  “I find your twisted grasp on logic concerning.”

  “You should be grateful I have any grasp on logic left,” I muttered. “I think maybe we should skip drinks and grab the next train back,” I said, plucking at the bloody tear in my jeans. My willingness to socialise had dwindled as the day had gone on.

  “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t wander around with you bleeding all over the place.”

  “Your sympathy overwhelms me,” I said sarcastically.

  “It’s just a scratch, you baby. You’ll be healed by the time we get back.”

  I pursed my lips. No one ever gave me sympathy. Oh, Nevaeh’s immortal, I suppose she won’t mind having a giant gash in her flesh. “I really like these jeans,” I muttered.

  “Oh, my god, all your jeans look the same.”

  “They don’t,” I argued. “These are high waisted black skinny jeans. If they weren’t, that glass would have cut through the waistband and my ass could be hanging out right now.”

  “In that case, they are good jeans,” she said, slapping me on the ass.

  I snarled at her. “Just how the fuck are you unscathed?” I asked, picking up the pace to catch up with her as we headed towards the station.

  “I can’t be completely sure, but I think the glass went straight through me,” she said, looking down at her hand.

  “Well, your non-corporeal ass better not go around possessing people like those other demon bastards,” I growled.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s beyond my skill set,” she informed me.

  Thank god for that. She would probably find it hilarious to go around possessing people. Possession was a bit of a sore spot for me, given that it was how I had been created.

  24

  24 - Marital Dispute, Part 1

  Timothy -

  “Wh- why are you doing this?”

  “Because it’s been over a week since my wife has paid me any attention. Look, just put the money in the bag and I’ll be out of your hair,” I said calmly, the gun steady in my hand as I pointed it at the bank manager. This wasn’t my usual style; I was a level four demon, all-powerful and I didn’t need to make threats or use mortal weapons.

  I paused once all the money was in the bags, irritated at their efficiency.

  There was a crash and suddenly six more people filled the r
oom, decked out with various weapons. I straightened and tugged at my shirt before reaching up to brush back my hair and turning to them. “Took you long enough to get here.”

  My lover saw me and stopped, scowling. She was so pretty when she was pissed. “Sweetie, we talked about this! Only commit crimes in other parts of the country.”

  “Oh jeez,” muttered Rosa.

  “Well, I had to do something to get your attention. You’ve been avoiding me,” I accused.

  Terra sighed heavily and glanced skyward. “Morons.”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve been working! You know that,” said Nevaeh, sounding exasperated.

  “Would it really kill you to spend a few hours at home?” I demanded.

  “Is now really the right time to have this conversation?”

  “It’s the only time!”

  “Well, could you at least put the gun away?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

  “No. How do I know that if I put the gun down you won’t just go running off with your friends?”

  “Look, you can either shoot me or you can put the gun away.”

  I pulled the trigger and the bark of the weapon firing rang through the room.

  “Ow!” Her eyes widened in outrage.

  “There, problem solved, now you’ll have to spend a few days at home to recover.”

  She glared at me, baring small human teeth at me. “No, problem not solved! Whatever we might do in our spare time you do not shoot me in public!!” she growled.

  I shot her a guilty look. “It went straight through,” I said defensively.

  “I don’t give a damn! We do not air our grievances in public, the hell is wrong with you?” she walked up to me and punched me in the shoulder.

  “Ow!” I murmured.

  She grabbed me roughly by the ear. “Take us home. We’re going to spend some time together and I am going to kick your ass all the way back to Hell.”

  It felt like she was trying to rip my damn ear off. “Ah, ah, fine! I’m sorry, just let go,” I growled as black smoke rose around us and I teleported us home.

  She released me and pulled me closer, kissing me deeply. “I’m going to kill you,” she growled, biting down on my lower lip.