by Parker Blue
I fought back a sob. Well, screw them. They didn’t have the only bookstore in the city. I could find another job, a place to live, even friends, damn it. I didn’t need them.
Movement caught my eye and I glanced aside to see a small dog approaching warily. A terrier mix of some kind, he had short wiry, wavy hair, long skinny legs, a tail that curled up in a “C” over his back, and light-colored fur—the exact color indeterminate in the faint light of the moon.
I froze. This was not normal. Dogs, cats, and other animals normally shied away from the demon they sensed in me. Though I’d always wanted a dog of my own, it was kind of useless to keep a pet who was terrified of me.
He must be desperate if he was brave enough to approach me. Was he hungry?
I wiped away the moisture from my eyes and laid my hand, palm up, on the ground. Speaking softly, I said, “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” I could use a little affection about now.
The dog, his head lowered, looked at me as if he wasn’t sure but crept closer anyway. I wished I had some food to entice him into my lap. “It’s all right,” I said soothingly.
A sudden tickling in my mind made me jump. Was there a vampire somewhere near? But when the tickling disappeared, I dismissed it. Must be my imagination—a vamp wouldn’t give up that easily.
Realizing the dog had cowered away, I tried once more to coax him to me. The terrier crept closer to sniff my hand and the tickling resumed. It wasn’t my imagination. Someone was trying to enthrall me, make me feel safe and secure. Who? The feel in my mind was masculine. Whoever he was, he was very confident. He obviously thought I was a tourist, an easy meal. For the moment, I stayed still, letting the undead creep think his mind control was working.
As the dog licked my hand, my heart melted. Trying not to startle him, I stroked the terrier’s head while I wondered how I could deal quickly with the vamp without scaring off the dog. Unfortunately, I’d stupidly left my stakes on the Valkyrie
Why hadn’t he rushed me already? Maybe he was being cautious, ensuring no one else was around. I glanced into the darkness of the trees beyond the walk next to the stone wall, looking for potential weapons. With any luck, there would be some fallen branches there. Maybe I could do it fast enough—
The terrier suddenly jerked his head up and sniffed the air. His eyes flashed purple, then he snarled, baring his surprisingly large, sharp teeth, and leapt to meet the form rushing from the darkness.
Shock cascaded through me, leaving me motionless for a moment. The dog unerringly leapt for the vampire’s crotch and clamped down on the sensitive tissues there. The vampire screeched, desperately trying to pull the dog off.
Stifling hysterical laughter, I scrambled to the nearest tree and ripped off a small branch, then charged the vamp and stabbed the sharp end through his heart. He gurgled in disbelief, then fell to the ground, lifeless.
Well, that was interesting.
I studied him. Wearing jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt, he was unremarkable, except for the acne covering his face. I’d only seen a few dozen vampires up close and personal and hadn’t realized they were susceptible to that condition. I wondered idly how many hundreds of years he’d had to put up with it, and why being a vamp hadn’t cured him. I shook my head. It didn’t matter.
I glanced down at the terrier, who looked utterly harmless and no worse for wear, though terribly proud of himself. “You’re no ordinary dog, are you?” A slight understatement.
The terrier’s jaw dropped open, for all the world as if he were laughing at me.
NOT EXACTLY.
What? Who said that? I could swear I heard it in my mind. But I thought I could only hear vamps’ thoughts . . . and only when they were trying to control me. Was there another one here? I glanced around.
I’M NOT A VAMPIRE. THINK SMALLER. DOWN HERE.
I stared down at the scruffy mutt in surprise, mentally reviewing the facts. A dog whose eyes flashed purple like mine, who wasn’t afraid of my demon side, who attacked vampires, and understood English. Nope, that wasn’t normal. “You can talk?”
SURPRISE.
Oh, great, a smart-ass dog. But he obviously craved affection, too. He was lonely . . . just like me.
What was I thinking? I was being taken in by a scruffy mutt who used cute as a weapon. “What are you?” I sat down next to him. After all, the vamp wasn’t going anywhere.
The dog just looked more forlorn. A HELLHOUND, he said defensively, kind of like he was daring me to laugh.
I snorted. Yeah, right. The terrier no more looked like the drawings of those huge beasts than I looked like the voluptuous women used to portray the succubi. But he wasn’t exactly a normal dog, either. Realization dawned, and I asked, “Are you part hellhound? Part-demon, like me?”
The dog wagged his tail. YOU GOT IT, KIDDO.
I sighed in relief. That explained a lot. “Do you belong to anyone?”
He dropped the brash act and moved closer, cautiously, nudging my hand with his cold nose and broadcasting his emotions—he had a strong desire to please me, take away my loneliness, and ease some of his own. I scratched his ears and he radiated pure bliss as he soaked up my attention like a dried-out sponge.
COULD I BELONG TO YOU?
Who could resist? And why not? I could use a pal right now, and this little mutt didn’t seem to be any threat. To me, anyway. And we were definitely kindred spirits. I hugged him, letting the action take away a little of the hurt. He licked my face, cementing my decision. “Okay, what’s your name?”
He glanced at me with a gleam in his eyes, the scruffy little whiskers on his chin making him look vulnerable and adorable. FANG.
I stifled a laugh. That was a heck of a big name for a little dog to live up to. “My name’s Val.”
He sighed. NICE TO MEET YOU, VAL.
“Want to hang with me?”
Wriggling with excitement, the terrier jumped up and licked my face. YES!
I wiped off the doggie drool and eyed him warily. He might appear to have human responses, but he was obviously still fully canine. “You hump my leg and you’re dead meat.”
His jaw dropped open again as he laughed at me. NO HUMPING, I PROMISE.
Who knew hellhounds had a sense of humor?
I laughed, feeling a little hope steal into my heart. What a weird day. I’d never forget my eighteenth birthday, that’s for sure. I might have lost a home and job, but I’d acquired a dog . . . and maybe a friend. “Okay, Fang, let’s go find someplace to live.”
Good timing—a rosy glow heralded the dawn and I waited as the first rays reached out and touched the vampire’s body. It burst into searing green-tinged flame that incinerated it in moments.
Good. Now for the next problem—how to get Fang onto the motorcycle. I glanced down at him. “Whatcha think? If I zip you up in my vest, you think you’ll ride okay?”
PIECE OF CAKE.
I straddled the bike and he leapt up in front of me. I zipped my heavy vest over him so only his head poked out, just below my chin. He enjoyed the ride, sniffing all the wind-borne scents. I kind of liked it, too. It was amazing how a little warm body snuggled up to me could make me feel so much better.
But I needed to find a better long-term solution to take him with me. I had a feeling this little dog was going to be a real asset in sniffing out vampires.
It was getting pretty light when I arrived back home. Or what used to be home. I figured they wouldn’t begrudge me a nap. I didn’t need much sleep, but then again, I hadn’t gotten any last night. I definitely needed some shut-eye. Then I’d pack my things and look for a job, a new place . . . a new life.
I unzipped Fang from my vest. In the light of day, I could see his fur was a reddish-blond color. It made him look even more harmless, made it even harder to believe he was part-demon.
I snuck Fang and myself in my bedroom window just in case someone was up—I wasn’t up to having a conversation right now.
Curious about the hellhound, I pull
ed out my special reference books—the three-volume Encyclopedia Magicka. These ancient books were the only thing I’d inherited from my father. But I didn’t keep them for sentimental reasons—they were the most accurate references on vampires and succubi I’d seen. Stood to reason they’d be accurate on other creatures as well.
“Hmm, hellhounds . . . ”
Fang’s ears perked up and he came to sit beside me, his head cocked in inquiry.
“Says here that hellhounds are large, fierce dogs, blood-red in color.” I glanced at the small dog, whose strawberry-blond fur and slight body bore no resemblance to the drawing, which looked like a greyhound on steroids. “See?”
I showed him the picture and he studied it for a moment.
WHOA.
“Yeah—looks a little different from you. What percentage of you is actually hellhound, anyway?” The rest included a big dose of terrier.
He somehow managed to look exasperated. I DON’T DO MATH—OR FAMILY TREES. I’M A DOG, FERGAWDSAKE.
Yeah, right. A dog with an attitude. Not to mention a soft, mushy side he apparently liked to keep hidden. Just like me.
He nudged me impatiently with his nose. GO ON.
“Okay, okay. Hellhounds have very sensitive noses and were bred to sniff out other demons and creatures of the night at the command of their master, then rip out their throats.” I glanced at him. “You do understand the difference between a throat and a crotch, don’t you?”
HA HA. VERY FUNNY.
“Okay, so you’re a little on the short side. I get it. But . . . why didn’t you try to rip out my throat?” I was part-demon, after all.
WHAT DOES THE BOOK SAY?
I read on. “Oh, I see. A hellhound who is bound to its master’s will has to obey that master, but once the master dies, the hound is free to choose its own prey.” Since he didn’t have a master, the throat-ripping was optional.
The book went on to advise that a hellhound who lost its master be destroyed lest it wreak indiscriminate havoc, and it provided some gruesome tales to support that recommendation.
I didn’t read that part aloud. No need—my new friend was obviously very discriminate and on the side of the good guys. Must be the normal canine part of him.
YOU GOT IT, BABE.
Oh, yeah, and he could read my mind. I closed the book. “Well, now, looks like a hellhound just might be a demon girl’s best friend.”
His jaw dropped in a doggie grin. YEP, THAT’S WHAT I’M THINKING.
I scratched his ears. He made me feel a little better about the whole crappy evening. But for now, I was beat. I didn’t feel like changing, so I crashed in the clothes I was wearing, and Fang curled up next to me. Feeling a little comforted, I drifted off to sleep.
Surprisingly, I didn’t dream. Or if I did, I didn’t remember it. I woke about noon and the feel of Fang’s furry little body against mine was kind of nice. I wanted to stay in this nice warm place forever, but reality hit and I realized I couldn’t. I had to start a new life.
Fang poked me with his nose. I NEED TO GO OUTSIDE. AND I’M HUNGRY.
Oh, yeah—dogs required care. At least he was civilized. Realizing the rest of the family should be working at the store about now, I let him out to do his business then showered and raided the kitchen for both of us. As he chowed down on some leftover stew, I had some cereal and contemplated my next move.
I had so much to do . . . it was kind of overwhelming.
Guess I’d better pack first. I glanced around my room. I’d need clothes, bedding, that kind of stuff. Would they let me take the furniture once I found a place? If not, I’d have to buy some. Not to mention other stuff like dishes and towels.
There was so much to think about. The cereal congealed in my stomach. I’d thought I was grown up, but the sheer number of things I had to do made me feel inadequate and so not ready for this. My small savings probably wouldn’t go very far. Not for long, anyway.
And I wouldn’t be able to come back. I blinked back tears. It wasn’t that much, but it was home . . . a home where I wasn’t welcome anymore. I rubbed my chest with the heel of my hand, wondering if the pain there would ever go away. Could you die of a broken heart?
Fang poked me. HEY, YOU HAVE LOTS TO LIVE FOR. YOU HAVE ME.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That I do. What say we pack this stuff up?”
To keep my mind off the decisions I had to make, I moved swiftly and methodically, stuffing clothes, books, and other things I thought I’d need in my duffel bag. It was tougher than I’d expected. Each thing I touched held memories of better times . . . the beaded bracelet Jen had made me, the pentacle Mom had given me for protection, the amusing vampire doll Rick had stuffed in my Christmas stocking . . . .
Damn, I’d forgotten about the holidays. I dropped down onto the bed, hugging the silly doll with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The upcoming Halloween and the Day of the Dead were always big at the store, but the biggies at home were Thanksgiving and Christmas. Where would I be then? Would I even be invited?
Even if I was, too many harsh things had been said—on both sides—for it to be anything but strained and uncomfortable. It could never be the same again.
Abruptly, I stood and wiped the moisture from my eyes. No time to worry about that now. I had to pack and get out of here.
An hour later, I heard a knock on the door. I felt my stomach clench—it had to be my family. Make that ex-family. I refused to answer it, not wanting to experience another scene, not wanting to cry and let them know how much they’d hurt me. Besides, who knew what they’d accuse me of this time?
When I ignored a second knock, Mom and Rick opened the door and walked in anyway. They must have left Jen minding the store alone.
Fang leapt to his feet on the bed and growled menacingly. They stopped short. “What’s that?” Mom asked in surprise.
I gathered the shreds of my composure together and took refuge in sarcasm to avoid letting them see my pain. “It’s a dog, Mother.”
“I can see that. What’s it doing here?”
“His name is Fang and he’s my new friend. As to what he’s doing, he’s reminding you that it’s not polite to barge in to someone else’s room.”
YOU KNOW THESE PEOPLE? Fang asked.
I glanced at my parents, but they didn’t seem to have heard him. It must be just me. To Fang, I said, “It’s okay. These are my landlords, though not for much longer. We’re moving.”
Mom looked hurt. Good. I wanted her to feel the pain she’d given me. “We’re more than your landlords,” she protested.
“Not anymore. You kicked me out, remember?” Suddenly uncertain if I could face another huge scene, I asked, “What do you want? I’m busy.” I turned to the duffel and fiddled with the stuff inside, wishing they’d just go away. They obviously weren’t going to apologize, weren’t going to tell me all was forgiven, and I didn’t want to hear any more rationalizations, didn’t want to break down and bawl like a baby.
“We thought you might need some help finding a place, moving . . . ”
Continuing to stuff things in the duffel, I said, “No, thanks. Got it covered. Though I might come back later to get my bed and dresser, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Mom seemed at a loss. “Maybe we could talk.”
“You said enough last night.” Lashing out felt good, fed a little of the lust for revenge Lola was stirring up inside me.
“No, we want you to understand—”
“I understand perfectly. Let’s not rehash this, okay? I heard enough the first time.”
“But—”
“No, I get it,” I said, interrupting her and facing them fully for the first time, letting the hurt come out in harsh words. “You good guys, me bad guy. I’m leaving.”
Fang moved closer, silently offering support.
“It’s not as black and white as that,” Mom protested.
How could she say that after she’d so clearly chosen her other daughter—h
er normal daughter—over me? What a hypocrite. “It is from this side of the fence.”
Rick watched silently from the doorway, looking disturbed and somewhat regretful. But that’s all he did—stand there. Guess he wasn’t going to come to my aid . . . again.
“Val, I know you use this smart-ass façade to keep your true self hidden from the world, but you don’t have to use it with us,” Mom said.
“This is the real me. Like it or lump it.” I paused, then said sarcastically, “Oh, wait. You’ve already done that, haven’t you? Only, I’m the one who took the lumps.”
Looking exasperated, Mom said, “You’re determined to be difficult, aren’t you?”
“Me?” I glared at the both of them. “What if I told you that you had to leave your family, that you weren’t wanted anymore, that you were less than human? How would you feel?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“The hell it isn’t.” No matter how much Mom tried to sugarcoat it, that’s the way it played out. That’s the way it felt, deep inside. And for once, Lola didn’t try to break free. All this turmoil inside me must be feeding her lust somehow.
“Don’t you talk to me that way. I’m still your mother.”
I’d had enough. Whirling on her, I said, “No, you’re not. You disowned me. I don’t have to listen to you anymore. Get out.”
“What?” Mom appeared truly shocked. I’d never talked back to them.
“You heard me,” I choked out past the tears in my throat. “Just . . . leave.”
Fang added a low growl for good measure. WANT ME TO MAKE HER LEAVE?
I shook my head at him. No—she is still my mother. Though it was nice to have someone on my side for a change.
Looking hurt, Mom left in a huff. Good—maybe she’d get a small taste of what she’d put me through last night. But Rick was still in the doorway.
“What do you want?” I asked tiredly. I hoped he wasn’t going to bitch at me, too. I couldn’t handle it right now.
With compassion in his expression, Rick said, “She still loves you, you know.”
She had a funny way of showing it. “She loves her other daughter—your daughter—more.”