Then with a fierce shake, whatever Abigail had raised from the depths revealed itself.
Two hellhounds.
Derek had no feeling in his fists, but he kept on hitting the invisible wall in front of him. He couldn’t just stand there and watch this. There had to be something he could do. Some way he could help. He couldn’t just stand there and watch as his world divided.
He knew Sam. She was strong, confident, and fearless when the times called for it. And because she had stood in place this entire time, Derek knew things were very, very wrong. “Abigail!” he called. “I’ll give you whatever you want! Just stop it.”
Abigail didn’t even look at him, instead focusing intently on the two dogs that had emerged out of the ground.
Dogs wasn’t the right word. They were big, probably bigger than any dog or wolf he’d ever seen, each well over a hundred pounds, with scraggily dark fur. The eyes glowed orange as they reflected the fire around them. Abigail bent forward and grabbed each of the dogs by the bottom of the muzzle. They let out a mix between a growl and a whine as Abigail’s black, sharp nails bit into their jaw.
“You two were brought here by me and I can send you back,” she warned. “Now find her and bring her back to me in two pieces. Do you understand?”
The dogs had seemed distressed at first, but at her voice, they each sat down and stared back at her. Abruptly she let the dogs go and at that same second, the flames died. Derek’s eyes didn’t adjust fast enough to the dark, and it was as if someone threw a hood over his head.
All of a sudden, something slammed into his chest and he flew back before he landed hard on the ground behind him. It was only when he heard the thundering steps behind him that he realized one of the dogs had knocked him over. But if the dogs got out, that meant….
“Derek!” Sam’s hands ran over his forehead and then chest and he savored the feel.
“I’m okay,” he said, proving he was lying when he sat up and groaned.
“I’m okay too, if anyone cares,” said Parker.
He looked over to see Parker was also on her ass, a few feet away from them. She must’ve been knocked over by a dog too.
“Abigail….” he said.
“She’s gone. I saw you get knocked over and the next second, she wasn’t there. But we have a bigger problem.”
Of course they did. “What?”
“I think I know what she told the hellhounds to do. That was the same spot Heather was going to kill Claire. She used my magic and I’m one of Claire’s best friends.”
“They’re going to kill Claire.”
“No,” said Sam firmly. “Because we’re not going to let that happen.”
Parker wasn’t quite as sure. “So which of you has the number for the mystical animal control?”
Claire didn’t want to answer her phone. She was snuggled in her bed with Dante—fully clothed, of course—and had avoided hallucinating Jackson for about half a day, which was a record at this point. And if she opened her eyes to answer that stupid phone, this could all crash down around her.
“Are you going to get that?” Dante’s breath tickled her ear and caused her to squirm against him. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, she could feel the bulge of his erection and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from turning in his arms.
She wanted to kiss him more than anything, but she was so worried about Jackson making another uninvited appearance. She let Dante think she was just tired and annoyed about earlier. Even though he obviously wanted more, he didn’t pressure her at all. Well, except for the fact that he was so damn pretty. But she could hardly blame him for that.
The phone rang again and Claire let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine,” she muttered as she leaned forward to grab the phone. It was Sam. “What?” she asked in a grumpier tone than she was going for.
“Get out!” screamed Sam so loud that Claire dropped the phone so it bounced off the mattress and fell onto the floor.
She and Dante both shot up and Claire had to scramble to bring the phone back to her ear. “What?”
“Abigail is sending some hellhounds after you. You need to run. Get out of there right now. Get moving.” Someone said something in the background, but Claire couldn’t understand it. “Angela thinks she knows somewhere for you to go. I’m going to message you the address, but get out of your apartment, okay?”
“Yeah. Leaving now.”
Claire hung up and turned to see Dante putting on his boots. “We’re leaving?” he asked.
“What do you know about hellhounds?”
He paused and looked at her. “What? Why?”
“Sam said Abigail is sending hellhounds after me.”
“Fuck.” He slammed his foot in the boot and jumped up without tying it. “Come on.”
“But I’m in my pajamas,” she said as he ushered her out of her bedroom. Claire just managed to snatch her tennis shoes as they left the apartment and scrambled down the stairs. Her feet were still bare as they reached the street and to where Dante had illegally parked his sports car in front of the building. Of course he would park wherever he wanted, she thought with a roll of her eyes as she got into the front seat.
“Angela sent us an address,” she said as Dante peeled away from the curb.
“There’s nowhere to hide,” he muttered as he swerved between cars.
“Should we just stay moving? They’re hounds, right? So they hunt by smell?”
“They smell magic. There’s no river you can cross that will hide you. And no magic I know of that is strong enough to stop them. Abigail shot the equivalent of a magical bazooka at you.” He cursed harder under his breath and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.
It was so strange to see Dante scared. He was always so sure of himself and what he was doing. Well, his magic was so strong, she supposed he didn’t have much to be afraid of. But if these hellhounds had him literally running….
“Abigail is afraid of me,” said Claire, suddenly sure of at least that one thing.
“Huh?” Dante dodged another perfectly law-abiding citizen.
“If Abigail is throwing this kind of stuff at me, she’s afraid. Because I killed Jackson, that means I can kill her too, doesn’t it? This is a good thing.”
“Claire, I can’t—”
Her phone chirped again. “It’s a bank vault. Sam thinks we can hide out in there while she and Derek take care of the hounds.”
“A vault?” asked Dante. At least he seemed intrigued by the idea. “Like with the big walls and everything?”
“Do you think the hellhounds could get through it?”
Dante tightened his lips and didn’t answer, which was kind of an answer in itself. “It’s better than anywhere else we could go,” he admitted.
She put the address in the GPS of her phone and started to navigate him through the streets of Manhattan. There weren’t many abandoned buildings in this part of town, a fact she was more than familiar with thanks to her days of living on the streets, but this bank that had been shut down during the recession was boarded up tightly enough to keep any homeless from ever using it to escape a cold night on the streets.
But that wasn’t a big deal to Dante, who set a palm on the door, and after a quick, hushed spell, it clicked open. She tried not to stare. She’d never seen him do magic that wasn’t related to his exceptional mind control abilities. It was unexpected. She didn’t even know he could do anything else. Was it strange to not know that about a boyfriend? Damn it, she still didn’t know what was normal for witches and what wasn’t.
She didn’t have time to get upset at herself any longer. She followed Dante into the dark abandoned building. It was still set up like a bank. The poles that marked where the line would form were half standing and half knocked over. There weren’t a lot of cobwebs, signaling that not even bugs made a home here. Probably no food without humans around.
Dante leapt over the teller counter in one smooth movement, and instead of trying to be as
cool as him, Claire carefully climbed over.
It was easy enough to find where the vault was. The room in the middle of the bank didn’t look like the movies. In fact, there seemed to be two different vaults. One barred door that led to the safety deposit room, and in the back of that room was the solid steel door that led to the safe. If she had to choose which room to hide in, it would be behind the massive metal door.
“Do we know how to get out of there?” she asked as Dante started to see whether he could get it closed to offer them protection.
“I have magic,” he said, in a not-too-comforting tone. “We’ll figure it out. Can you help with this?”
It must’ve been stuck on something if Dante couldn’t get it. Claire moved next to him and, putting her hands below where his gripped the door, started to pull at it, but nothing happened.
She braced her feet on the ground and put all her weight behind it. The door finally budged, but just barely. “Ugh. Is something blocking it?”
“I think the hinges are rusted,” said Dante. “Come on, don’t stop. Once it starts going, we’ll be good. Come on.”
She started to pull again when something inside the building rustled.
They both stopped and stood still. She didn’t hear growling or barking. Was that a good thing? Did hellhounds growl or bark?
Dante wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back to the wall of safety deposit boxes. She tried to control her breathing so she made as little noise as possible, but what was the point of hiding? The dogs could find her magic, right? She needed to get away from Dante. She didn’t want him doing something stupid, like throwing himself between her and the dogs.
She was thinking of the best way to keep him from dying for her when a beam of light shone into the vault. Claire let out a sigh of relief. She knew almost nothing about hellhounds, but she was willing to guess they didn’t use flashlights.
Dante must’ve thought the same because he let her go and moved to stand in the beam of light. “Get your ass in here and help us,” he barked at whoever it was.
A second later, Angela Parker stepped inside. “Derek and Sam are coming soon.” She went to the door, where they all started to push on the door.
“Where are they?” asked Claire through clenched teeth. Right then, there was a boom that echoed through the building, vibrating the walls. “Never mind,” she said.
“We split up to find a way inside,” said Angela. “I’m betting they just made their own way. I found the wide-open door.”
The vault door was finally starting to move and was about halfway to closed when Claire heard it—an ominous skittering in the distance. Instinctually, she knew. A dark chill made its way down her spine and she knew death was coming for her. “They’re here,” she whispered.
At that same moment, she heard Sam scream, “Claire!”
She and Angela both abandoned the big vault door at the same time and instead slammed the barred door to the safe deposit room shut. As the lock clicked into place, something slashed at her fingers. Claire gasped and stepped back as the blood spilled from where the hound had gotten her across the knuckles.
And then all she could do was stand there and stare in horror. The hounds threw themselves against the bars. Every time they backed up to get momentum, they’d let out a deep growl that seemed to vibrate right through her.
Oh, God. She was going to die.
“Hey!” screamed Sam from behind the hounds. Angela pulled Claire away as the room was lit with fire, signaling that Sam had just tried to blast them with heat. A second later, shots rang out, signaling that Derek had joined the fight.
“We’ve almost got it,” said Dante as they all resumed positions on the door. Claire tried to get a grip again, but the blood made the door slippery, and the second she tried to apply pressure to her injured hand to help, the burning intensified and she gasped before letting the door go.
She held her hand and fell back into the concrete room where the money had been kept. It was cold and dark and dirty and an altogether horrible place to die.
Angela and Dante were finally getting the door to move, and in a second, they were plunged into darkness. A second later, Angela’s small flashlight illuminated the room. She pulled off her jacket and started to rip a piece free, but her hands couldn’t get it. Dante took it from her and in one quick motion, the material ripped and he wrapped it around Claire’s hand. Every jerk had pain racing through her entire body, from the tips of her fingers right down to her toes.
She didn’t want to be a wimp, but she couldn’t help gasping at the agony. “Something’s wrong.” Her hand started to tremble.
“It’s okay.” Dante pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m right here.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t unerstannn…” Speaking became harder as the pain seemed to vibrate within her mind. “Someingggsss wro….”
Angela’s flashlight started to dim, but neither she nor Dante seemed concerned. Then Claire realized it wasn’t the flashlight going out. It was her. She looked at Dante. If she was going to die, it might be a horrible place, but at least her last vision would be of Dante.
“Claire.” Dante put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. “Claire!” he screamed louder.
Angela reached out and put a hand on his wrist. “Come on. That’s not going to do any good right now. You saw the pain she was in. No use waking her up until we can actually help her.”
Angela had been in a few life-and-death situations before, and she liked to think she could read people. Claire didn’t seem like the type to pass out from fear.
Which meant it was something else that had gotten to the poor girl. Angela stood and looked around them. The room was small. There wasn’t even enough space for them to lay Claire out. She needed to remain sitting against the back wall. She couldn’t exactly call Pierce to see what was happening out there, so she did the next best thing and put her ear near the door. Not right on it because the door was metal and apparently Sam had a thing for fire. Pierce had told her that, but seeing it was a whole different level of weird.
“Have you ever dealt with something like this before?” she asked Dante.
He leaned back against the side wall and ran a hand over his eyes. “With hellhounds? No. They are the boogeyman. The thing your parents tell you stories about to scare the hell out of you.”
Well, that wasn’t comforting at all.
“Yeah, but if anyone can survive this, it’s your girlfriend, right? Isn’t she a boogeyman in her own right?”
He looked down to where the small blonde was unconscious. “How badass does she look to you?”
Angela was small, too, at only five foot five, but thanks to constant workouts and working in a male-dominated field, she was muscular. Claire was a waif, the result of years of wandering the streets from what Pierce told her.
“You’re a good boyfriend,” she said suddenly, surprising both herself and Dante apparently from the look he gave her. “Sticking around through all this. Not everyone would do that. And from what I heard, you aren’t exactly lacking for female company. You’re just doing it because you care about her.”
He smiled weakly and she realized there was a lot to this story she was missing. “I’m sorry if I overstepped….”
“She doesn’t love me.”
Angela blinked at the unexpected admission. “What?”
“She likes me, but… I’ve broken up with enough women to know the signs.”
Angela looked between Claire and Dante. She knew so little about either of them, and she was the last person to be giving anyone relationship advice. In fact, being trapped in a small room with an unhappy couple might be her definition of hell.
But she was stuck here, so she tried not to let her fear show. “I’m sure you two will figure it out.”
“She’s a virgin. I’ve never been with a virgin. I don’t know the first thing about being with someone that innocent. What if I break her?”
N
ope, nope, nope. She was not qualified for this conversation. “I don’t know.”
“Seriously, look at me.”
She really didn’t want to, but she allowed her gaze to move over to him where the flashlight made his green hair look black and the planes and valleys created by his striking bone structure cast heavy shadows on his face. “I’m looking.”
“Do I look like someone who should be with her?”
For the love of— “You look kind of like a demon right now,” she snapped. Then she took a deep breath and said in a nicer tone, “Claire isn’t blind. She knows what you look like and it doesn’t bother her. So calm the fuck down and just be the boyfriend she wants.” There. Calm the fuck down. She should have her own advice column or something.
Suddenly Dante pushed away from the wall and met her eyes. She started to look away but then she didn’t want to. She just stood there and stared into those green orbs that now seemed too bright in the darkness. “Tell me what you really think about Claire and me.”
Before she knew what was happening, she spoke. “Claire survived a massive life-or-death situation and jumped into a relationship with you. She’s never had a boyfriend before so the chances that this will work out with you are slim to none. You don’t like yourself, and being with someone as unique as Claire makes you feel better about yourself and inadequate compared to her at the same time. But you’re not with her because you love her. Just because you love how she makes you feel. Which kind of makes you an asshole.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she covered her lips with the palm of her hand and gasped. “What did you just do to me?”
He shook his head and stepped back. “Sorry, I—”
Her fist shot out and slammed into his stupid beautiful cheekbone. The crack echoed through the room.
A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book 4) Page 9