by H. D. Gordon
It was a puzzle, though. I wasn’t sure how I knew this, but I did, and if I could somehow manage to put all the pieces together, I might be able to glimpse the bigger picture.
“You look perplexed,” Rose said as she stepped out of the back room of the flower shop. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to me her hair had gone much grayer in the past few months.
I hung my coat and backpack on the hook and stashed my skateboard beneath the counter. “Just thinking about what to do after I graduate,” I lied. That was what I should have been thinking about.
Rose nodded, leaning back against the counter. “Well, you’re welcome to stay on here. We can adjust your schedule if you need to.”
A smile pulled up my lips. “You’re too good to me,” I said. “And that reminds me, I have something for you.”
Going over to my backpack, I dug around in the small pocket on the front until I found what I was looking for. Grinning and biting at my lip, I handed it over.
Rose turned over the pink envelope in her hands, looking up at me over her glasses. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Releasing a slow breath, Rose broke the seal and pulled out the card that was inside. I watched as her eyes began to tear up as she read the card, the check that had been tucked inside held gingerly between her fingers.
“I know it’s not much,” I said, “but every bit counts, right? And it wasn’t all me. The lacrosse team all helped out.” I moved beside her and pointed at the card. “See? These are all their signatures.”
We’d only managed to raise a little over a thousand dollars, but the way Rose’s aura was swirling, you would’ve thought I’d just handed her a million.
When she began to sob harder, I flailed my hands, not knowing what to make of the reaction. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, quickly. “I didn’t tell them all your name or anything, so there won’t be any kind of hoopla, I just wanted to help you out, since you’ve always helped me.”
I don’t know what the right words would’ve been, but these apparently were not them, because now Rose was practically shuddering with her sobs. I pulled her into an awkward hug, patting her back.
“I…can’t… accept this,” she said, her voice high with the tears. She held the check out to me.
I shook my head and backed up a step. “Yes, you can. It’s for you. It’s for Rachel. I can’t take it back. It doesn’t belong to me.”
After a little more of this, Rose finally gave in, pulling me into a hug and dripping tears on my shoulder as she thanked me profusely. Once that business was complete, Rose showed me the orders that needed to be filled and prepared to go visit the hospital, as she’d been doing as of late.
It felt good, to be doing something selfless, especially for someone I cared about, but as Rose exited the shop and stepped out into the street, I was pretty sure I heard her mumble something strange
Unless my sensitive ears were mistaken, I’m pretty sure I heard her say, “God, forgive me. I’m going to hell.”
A fresh pang of sympathy went through me. What was happening to her just wasn’t fair.
Then again, life rarely is.
***
I was in the back of the shop putting together an arrangement of lilies for a funeral when I heard the bell above the shop door chime as someone entered. Wiping my hands on my apron, I brushed some of my hair out of my face and pushed through the swinging door that led to the front of the shop.
“Welcome to Roses,” I said. “How can I help you?”
The man who’d entered was dressed in clothes that made Caleb’s look like rags, his shoes shiny enough to reflect the sky and his suit tailored to perfection. He carried a newspaper rolled up in one hand, and on his wrist was a watch that caught bits of light as he moved. He was not a large man, but not small, either, a little taller than average and corded in a wiry way. His eyes were as dark as his hair, a luxurious black that stood up like a wall on top of his head, so thick it looked impenetrable. When he grinned, his teeth were as white as fresh snow, a direct contrast to the aura that hung around him.
I knew within a moment that he was not human, and that he was not here for flowers.
His shoes clicked as he crossed the small space between the entryway and the counter. When he reached it, I had to make a conscious effort not to take a step back. He placed his hands on the countertop, and I saw that his nails were meticulous, much like those bone-white teeth.
“A dozen roses, please,” he said, and his voice was soft and gentlemanly. I wondered if maybe I had judged him too harshly.
I moved over to one of the refrigerators where we kept the fresh cut roses and removed twelve. For whatever reason, I did this with my back only half turned, my senses paying close attention.
“Would you like a vase for them?” I asked. “Or should I just wrap them in paper?”
“Paper will be fine,” he said.
I could feel his eyes on me as I moved, dark and observant. Once I’d arranged the flowers in a pretty way and wrapped them in decorative plastic and paper, I brought them over to the register and rang them up, wondering if it had gotten ten degrees colder in here all of a sudden or if it was just me.
“That’s lovely,” he said. “Just perfect.” Again his voice was soft, polite, and soothing.
I nodded my thanks and told him the total. He handed over the money. As he did so, his long fingers brushed mine, and a shiver went up my spine.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked, once I’d passed over the flowers and his receipt.
He gave a grin, as if this question were somehow amusing, and gave his head a single shake. “That will be all, thank you,” he said. With a last lingering look that felt like a touch rather than a glance, he took the flowers and left.
I found myself crossing the store quickly, going to stand at the windows to see if I could get a glimpse of what kind of car he was getting into, but to my disappointment, the man was already gone.
I soon forgot about the encounter altogether. I had a lot on my mind.
***
“You can’t be serious,” Caleb said. “You can’t go in there alone.” We were back at the lair, the long weekend finally drawing to a close.
I gave him an exasperated grin. “Why? You want to come with me?”
Sam, Matt, and Caleb exchanged looks. Sam pushed her glasses up on her nose. “What if the epinephrine doesn’t work?” she said. “You could end up just pissing the thing off.”
“And the alternative is what?” I said. “Waiting until it pops up again and kills more people, does more damage?”
“I just think there has to be a better way than you going underground by yourself with a homemade bow and arrow that might or might not work,” Caleb replied, smoothing his sweater down the way I knew he did when he was anxious.
“Hey,” said Matt. “I made that bow and it’s badass. You can believe that.”
“We’re wasting time,” I said. “So if anyone has a better plan, speak up now. We know the beast is underground, and we know it let me go the first time. I just go in, shoot it with this arrow, hope the epinephrine works, and get out its way if it doesn’t. Easy-peasy.” I looked at Sam, who was chewing on her nails. “What, you too?”
Sam chose her words carefully. “I’d be lying if I told you I’m not worried. That thing snapped a helicopter in half like a piece of stale bread. No, I don’t like the idea of you going after it alone.”
“She won’t be alone,” said a deep voice, and we all turned around to see Thomas entering the warehouse. He was wearing black cargo pants and a black shirt, having opted out of his commando outfit. “I’m going with her.”
“Why are you qualified?” Caleb asked, and not super politely.
Thomas only looked at him, and then at me, as if to ask without words whom this boy was and why he was speaking to him.
Matt saved the situation from getting any tenser. “I feel better with you going with her,” Matt said, “bu
t still not good about the whole thing. Aria, you haven’t even really had a chance to heal since the beast beat you up the first time.”
I sighed, pulling my mask down over my face and fastening my cape onto my back. “Again, I’m open to suggestion.”
At last, everyone held their peace, resigning to the fact that this had to go down.
I turned to Thomas, the only one of the group whose aura wasn’t raging with anxiety and fear. “You ready?” I asked.
“Lead the way,” he said.
And we headed out to go after the Blue Beast.
CHAPTER 24
I gagged, reminding myself to just breathe through my mouth. “It smells like straight ass down here,” I said.
Thomas shook his head, not replying to the observation. We had been patrolling the sewer tunnels beneath the city for over an hour, and the Blue Beast was nowhere to be found. It was almost as if the creature had melted into the walls.
“Keep your guard up,” Thomas warned, seeing that my mind was beginning to wander to other things. I was the one who could read auras, but the man always seemed to have a line on what I was thinking.
I clicked off the communication device in my ear so our conversation couldn’t be heard back at the lair. “I hope this epinephrine shot works,” I said. “I forgot how close the quarters are down here. It’s like a friggin’ labyrinth. We could be down here forever.”
In the dim light provided by the bobbing flashlights in our hands and the dull orange glow of caged bulbs along the tunnel walls at twenty-foot intervals, I couldn’t make out his expression, but something told me he was quirking an eyebrow.
“This was your idea,” he said.
“Yeah, well, you went along with it.”
Sam’s voice crackled in my ear. She knew I’d turned off the sound on my end, and with the reception down here she was only picking up my signal in broken pieces anyway. “You guys having a lover’s coil?”
I ignored her. Since we were down here all alone, I figured now was a good time to ask more of the questions I’d been formulating since Thomas had let me in on what I was beginning to suspect were only some of his secrets.
“Your superiors, do they know about me?” I asked. “I mean, supposing you have superiors.”
Thomas let out a low breath, his eyes scanning our surroundings on an infinite loop, his aura the steady blue of super concentration. “I have superiors,” he answered. “And I’m pretty sure they know about most everyone.”
I adjusted the flashlight in my hand and the bow and small quiver attached to my back. I supposed I should appreciate this honest, if vague, answer, but the thing about Thomas Reid was that the more I found out about the man, the more questions I seemed to have. The more I learned, the less I knew.
“How did you get involved with them?”
Thomas didn’t answer for so long I was sure he wasn’t going to. The only sounds were the dripping of water down the stone walls, the flow of sewage in the canal beside us where we walked along the service pathway.
Then, he said, “I displayed certain skills in the field, an aptitude of sorts. I didn’t so much get involved with them as they got involved with me.” He looked back at me now, his hazel eyes like two amber stones in the dim orange light. “Understand?”
I nodded, swallowed. It was always something when he looked right at me. “I do.”
Silence fell for a while longer, the smell of the place at times becoming more repulsive and pungent. I felt bad for the workers who had to visit the sewers frequently, and suspected that whatever the job paid, it wasn’t enough.
“What would they do if they found out that you’ve told me all of this?” I asked, unable to help myself, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
Now Thomas stopped in his tracks, his head dropping down between his shoulders. He turned to face me, meeting my gaze. Instead of answering, he asked a question in return. “What would the Peace Brokers have done with you if they’d found out you’d betrayed their secrets?”
I didn’t respond, because I knew this question was an answer in itself.
Point made, Thomas resumed his trek forward. We went three more steps before my hand shot out and gripped his arm, stopping him again. He went on high alert immediately, his body going rigid as he watched me tilt my head and close my eyes, listening.
I’d heard a sound that I couldn’t place, a sort of clicking, or a slight scraping amongst the drip and run of the foul water.
“What—?” Thomas began, but I shook my head sharply, cutting him off. I’d heard it again.
I slipped my magical staff out of my pocket and met his questioning eyes. All of a sudden, my heart had jumped up into my throat, and was pounding a mile a minute. “Something’s coming,” I said. “And whatever it is, it’s coming fast?”
Thomas’s head whipped around. “I don’t hear anything. Which direction is it coming from?”
We were standing at a t-shaped intersection, the tunnel leading off to our left and right, and another one branching off directly in front of us.
I gulped and gripped my weapon. “From all sides,” I said. “Whatever it is, it’s coming from all sides.”
Thomas muttered a curse that was echoed in my head.
***
The lights in the tunnel began to blink off and on, making for a flickering orange that threw stalking shadows against the close walls. I could still hear it—or rather, them, growing closer and closer with each click and scrape against the concrete floor.
When the first one came into sight, it took my mind a prolonged moment to process it, and once it did, fear shot through me with a swiftness that made me sway on my feet. Every tiny hair on my body stood on end, as if an invisible current of electricity had just skimmed over me.
“What the hell are those things?” Thomas asked, his pistol settling on one target, then swiveling to another, and another.
“They’re hellhounds,” I answered, and that was all there was time for, because then the creatures were upon us.
There had to be ten or eleven of them, their eyes glowing scarlet in the darkness. I’d never encountered hellhounds before, had only ever read about them in my studies with the Peace Brokers, but they were not something that could be mistaken. I was stunned for a small moment between taking sight of them and when they reached us. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes.
Their growls approached along with their bodies, which were sleek and black, corded with muscles that flexed and contracted as they raced toward us. They had the bulk of a bear on all fours and the speed of a canine. Other than the reflection of their eyes, it was their sharp white teeth that caught attention, snapping and snarling with audible clicks and clacks. They moved like shadows, slinking and snaking, perfectly poised for attack.
I shoved Thomas down the tunnel just ahead of us, and he shot down two of the hounds while I knocked another one out of our way with my staff. The dogs snapped and squealed as the bullets tore into their flesh and the wood of my weapon made contact.
“There are too many,” I told Thomas, panting from exertion. “Run!”
We sloshed down the corridor, our feet spraying up drops of filthy water, the hounds snapping at our heels. I chanced a look behind me and immediately regretted it. They were gaining on us at an alarming rate. The putrid air rushed in and out of my lungs in harsh gasps. I heard the clicking of the hounds paws against the ground interrupt in pattern and turned just in time to knock the one that had leapt up at me out of the air with my staff.
We kept running, and so did the hounds. Thomas turned mid-run and fired a few more rounds behind us, the smell of sulfur filling my nose and the terrific sound of the gunfire temporarily disabling my sensitive ears, causing them to ring.
It bought us some much needed time, though, and we came to another t-shaped intersection, plunging ahead without pausing for decision. I stumbled on something and would have fallen but Thomas’s strong hand reached back and steadied me while at the same time pu
lling me forward.
Along with my body, my mind was racing. I knew from my studies that only Demons could control hellhounds, and I wracked my brain but could not think of any Demons I might have pissed off as of late.
Thomas let out a curse. I was about to question the reason when I saw what he already must have seen. Up ahead, the tunnel came to an abrupt end. As luck would have it, we’d taken a bad turn somewhere back there, and now we were trapped between a wall and the hounds.
We ran until we could go no further. Without a word, we turned to fight.
***
I’m fast and strong and agile, but fighting something on four legs brings with it an entirely different element. On top of that, the things just kept on coming, as if there was an endless supply, or they were spawning somewhere down here in the sewers.
“Too many,” I gritted out, but the statement was unnecessary. The bodies of the hellhounds were piling up around us, and still more came.
Thomas had holstered his pistol and was fighting the dogs off with his bare hands, knowing instinctively that the gunfire had been weakening one of my best senses, along with the blinding flash of light every time the weapon went off.
He jerked his head back, and I followed the movement to see that there was a ladder that led up to what was likely a manhole on the wall at our backs. “Go,” Thomas said, kicking a hound in the face with the sole of his boot and sending the creature back several feet a bit dazed before it charged in again.
“Like hell,” I replied, spinning my staff around and knocking one of the hounds upside the head. It snapped back at the weapon, locking it between its strong jaws and shaking its head, jerking me around with it.
I hadn’t noticed, but Thomas must have removed his gun again because another shot rang out, making me cringe at the sound and subsequent flash of white, blinding me momentarily like the flicker of a camera.
“Aria, don’t argue,” Thomas said, his voice strained. “There isn’t time.” He fired two more rounds. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”
The way he said this left no room for contemplation, so I tucked away my staff and climbed up the metal ladder as if my butt was afire, not daring to look down. I plowed into the heavy metal circle covering the hole over my head and pushed it to the side.