Hounded By The Gods

by ST Branton

  Truth be told, I am not sure what it is. The legends say that the Forgotten are numerous in kind, and that many are unrecognizable as the beings they were before. A frown colored his next words. I believe those who would give themselves up for power are reprehensible, no better than common villains.

  “Okay.” My tactic of engaging Marcus to tempt sleep was working. Unconsciousness tugged at the edge of my quieting thoughts, and I started the slow, sweet spiral down into rest.

  Then everything was shattered by the unmistakable report of a gun.

  I sat bolt upright, narrowly missing the top of my pitiful shelter with my head. “What was that?” Crawling out into the open, I looked in the direction of the shot. West. The way I was heading. But also reasonably far away. The echo died as I reluctantly retreated back into my box.

  My stomach growled.

  If you are hungry, I encourage you to hunt. The Gladius Solis would make short work of game.

  It probably would have cooked it on contact, too, but I wasn’t really that hungry. I shook my head. “I’m fine.” What I didn’t tell him was that I thought if I ate, I might just puke from nerves. The phantom gunshots were not the kind of omen I needed.

  But as I laid there, rest continued to elude me. Every little sound triggered my adrenaline, no matter how small. The very idea of sleep had fled from my mind. I kept my eyes wide open.

  Until a flash from outside temporarily blinded me. On instinct, I ducked and covered, but I was met only by the clashing rumble of thunder. A moment later, the rain began to pour. A moment after that, I found myself soaking wet, sitting in a growing puddle.

  My relationship with nature was not improving.

  Sighing and futilely wiping my face with the back of my sleeve, I left my makeshift shelter and pulled the cheap poncho out of my pack, sizing it up to fit over the top of my shelter, hoping it might keep out most of the downpour.

  Victoria! Be alert! Something is coming.

  I snapped to attention, diving to retrieve the sword. My little house forgotten, I scoured the black night with my gaze, monitoring every approach for signs of an enemy. Now that I was listening, I could hear the twigs and branches snapping, along with the heavy, rasping breaths of an unseen monster. My heartbeat quickened, but surprisingly, I felt no fear.

  Maybe because I knew exactly what to do next.

  The monster charged from the thick underbrush beneath the trees, rushing me with its broad head down, its bronze eyes glowing from beneath a heavy brow. Its hunched shoulders were thickly muscled, sprouting long, sinewy arms. I leapt to the side as it barreled past me.

  So much for sleeping. I guessed fighting was just as good.

  The monster banked around for another pass, its feet carving a deep trench in the softened ground. I stood braced for action, trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at in the light of the sword’s blade. Like a human, it stood on two legs, and there was a deeply unsettling human quality in the burning eyes and cruel, brutal face.

  But its body was doglike and covered in dark, coarse fur. The clawed paws were basically clubs with nails, capable of swinging at dizzying speeds. They were what had catapulted Deacon out of my reach when he got injured.

  I set my jaw. “Let’s do this.”

  Weirdly, despite its relentless aggression, the creature didn’t seem to have much of a knack for fighting. Its only tactic seemed to be a barrage of furious power, which admittedly it did well enough. It was exhausting to duck, dodge, and roll so many attacks, and I could feel my stamina fading. The pure adrenaline could only carry me so far.

  The other problem was that its reach was so long, I had trouble getting close enough to even think about sneaking a hit in. It seemed to have regular flesh just like any other animal, meaning the Gladius Solis would kill it like crazy, but a step into arm’s reach was a step closer to deadly flailing claws, and I wasn’t sure I could avoid those.

  So, it was a stalemate of power versus finesse until one of us slipped up.

  It was me.

  I stumbled on a follow-through from a failed swing, and the next thing I knew, white-hot pain seared across my side. I jumped back, yelping like a kicked puppy. When I glanced down to find the source of the pain, I saw red rivers running down my stomach and legs.

  “Fuck!” I shouted, mostly out of anger at myself, more than being frightened or hurt.

  This bastard was going to pay for that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The panic coursing through my system was slowly giving way to blinding rage. Gripping the Gladius Solis in both hands, I let out a roar and threw myself at the beast. The heat from the sword, which seemed to be directly correlated to my own wild energy, singed the top of my hands, but I didn’t even feel it.

  All I could picture were the dead bodies back in Mormouth, the families covered in blood. The agents who died trying to protect and serve. I felt everyone of their deaths, and pushed that anger into the sword.

  I just wanted to get my revenge.

  The strike had messed up the monster’s balance, too, and it reeled a little on the edge of its feet, trying to regain its footing. I shot underneath one pinwheeling arm, leapt over the other as it swept close to the ground, and shoved my sword up toward the bulky, hairy chest. The blade plunged so deep I lost my hand in the coarse fur for a moment as I twisted the weapon for extra effect.

  “Damn you… to hell!”

  Crimson blood seeped out along my hands and arms, still nauseatingly warm. I withdrew the sword in a spray of red, fiercely dragging my wrist along my face to clear my vision. The monster’s gangly body started to crumple inward, appendages collapsing under their own weight. I stepped back until the thing lay in a heap on the forest floor, gasping for its last breaths. Then I came forward, so I could look it in the eye.

  That was a mistake.

  The broad, protruding chest heaved one more time, and then the unearthly physique changed. I watched as the body shrank into something much more recognizable to my mind’s eye.

  A person. This thing was a person inside.

  And I had killed her.

  The vampires that fell to my blade turned to ash. The harpies shriveled up like overripe fruit. But all that remained of the creature in front of me was the naked body of a woman.

  I recognized her immediately by the freckles on her face. She was the picture from the frame—the mother from Mormouth. The beast I had just fought was full of rage, a wild thing untethered. But there was no anger in her green eyes.

  All I could see was fear and confusion.

  “Marcus?” My question split the quiet air.

  Victoria, you are hurt.

  “She didn’t know what she was doing.”

  You knew. And you did what you had to do. The servants of the god do not quit. They do not show mercy. Just look at what they did in that town. Just look at the wound in your side.

  I nodded. What he said made sense, but all I could hear was Deacon’s voice. Nothing in their profile matched that of a killer.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  I ripped the sleeves off my sweater to use for bandages as I walked in stony silence, not speaking. The wounds I had suffered at the hands of the woman ached with a dull, throbbing pain. I wished I’d kept one of the ace bandages I’d shoved in Deacon’s mouth, but my sleeves would have to do. Pausing just long enough to patch myself up as best as I could, I kept going down the rough trail. Pawprints still marred the earth in front of me, and occasionally, I thought I picked out two distinct sets.

  Did that mean that she had a friend—or a mate?

  What would cause someone like that to throw in with the gods? To turn on their family? It didn’t make sense.

  I leaned down to get a closer look at the trail but the cut in my side throbbed. I put my hand to the wound and lightning shot through my body.

  That does not look good.

  “Yeah, but what are my options? Lay down and wait to bleed out or die of exposure? The only thing I
can do is keep moving forward and hope I find something useful.”

  I believe there is a water source nearby. Perhaps there is also a settlement that may provide you aid.

  “Water would be nice.” I pressed a hand carefully to my jacked up, improvised bandages, and winced when I felt the blood starting to soak through. “Don’t think these are going to last too much longer unless I wash them out.”

  The nectar will help, but you require proper medical attention, Marcus said. Your rudimentary medical knowledge may not be enough.

  “Hey, I patched Deacon up alright, didn’t I?”

  You purchased at least a few basic supplies for him. The sleeves of your garment are hardly the same provisions. And his wounds were hardly life-threatening.

  “And mine are?”

  You are strong Vic, stronger than most. But you are still human.

  “True. Cross your fingers, I guess. It’d be a shame if this was the end of the line.” True to form, I retreated into the safety of gallows humor when things were looking particularly bad. I knew it wouldn’t do to be scared of what had happened—the damage had been done, and I had seen worse. I just had to keep pressing on and hope for a little extra luck.

  Or, you know, any luck at all.

  Marcus’s hunch about the water turned out to be spot on. The track I was following ended in a swift, narrow little river that whipped along at an impressive clip. I eased myself down onto a rock, ignoring the biting protest from my wounds, and undid the wrappings. To my eternal dismay, the cuts were not clean. The edges of my skin were ragged, and deep, multicolored bruising was starting to bloom.

  “Lovely. I look like a Satanic finger painting.” I dipped each bandage in the water and wrung it out. The stinging cold was almost too much to bear, but after a few seconds of agony, it actually started to feel kind of good. The dryness on my tongue tried to convince me to drink from the running water, but I thought better of it and pulled the half-full bottle from my pack. No need getting some waterborne critter in my gut.

  As soon as I made sure my bootleg dressings were in place, I picked myself up and turned downstream. “Don’t know where the hell I’m going, but wherever it is, it’s not uphill.”

  Try not to overexert yourself.

  “Like I said, downhill,” I smiled grimly. “Downhill only. Slowly.” But I couldn’t shake the knowledge that there had been two sets of pawprints on the trail behind me, and that the other creature could be anywhere. The natural urge to hurry was strong.

  At least the path along the river was easy enough to navigate. A couple miles down the river, a rutted road emerged from the growth by the bank, and I latched onto it immediately. My whole lower torso felt like it was on fire, despite the fact that water still dripped from the soaked bandages. I wanted to sit down and rest my eyes for a moment, but I was too afraid I’d never get up again.

  So, I kept trucking, putting one foot in front of the other.

  Marcus and I didn’t speak much, but I could feel the undercurrent of his worry in the back of my mind. The wave of sweet relief that crashed over both of us when the next town came into view was indescribable. We were no longer completely in the middle of nowhere!

  That relief was short-lived. Walking onto the main street of town was like discovering yet another abandoned place. The earliest light of dawn was just spreading across the feathery clouds, and the town had yet to show signs of life. It did look lived-in. There were plants in windows, furnished storefronts, and a dog barked from behind a wooden fence as I went by. I saw a diner, a grocery store, a tavern, an inn, and a tiny bank.

  No doctor, though.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. The one thing I need, they don’t have?”

  They must. A doctor is an indispensable member of any community. They would not be able to survive here without a local medic.

  “Maybe they have a shaman,” I suggested dryly. “A voodoo guy. A witch doctor.”

  This settlement is far too modern. Several of these homes have steel chariots in front.

  “You know damn well they’re called cars by now,” I said.

  Just then, I spotted a first-aid cross etched into a hanging sign above a door. My spirits fell only slightly when I got close enough to read the print underneath: Veterinary Clinic. So, they might not have painkillers for people, but I was willing to bet there were proper bandages in there somewhere—and maybe some doggie Percocet.

  In the interest of politeness and knowing full well I needed to request a service, I tried knocking first. No answer. Peering in through the glass door, I saw that the interior was stocked but empty of people, all the lights off. They weren’t open yet, but I was bleeding and unsure of how long my improvisational medical arrangements would last.

  I dug through my grimy, soaked backpack and came up with a straight hairpin from the very bottom, which I used to jimmy the clinic lock open. The lights came on automatically as soon as I set foot inside. After hours of walking through near total darkness, they were way too bright. I recoiled, shielding my eyes with one bare arm.

  “Hello?” Footsteps approached from somewhere in the back. “Is someone there?” The voice came through a closed door, followed by the sound of bolts and chains shifting.

  The door opened to reveal a woman around my age, maybe a little younger, with striking features and a truly impressive case of curly, natural bedhead. She blinked at me, her eyes moving from my face to the bobby pin in my hand, and finally to the open door at my back. “Did you pick the lock?

  Rather than upset, she sounded bemused, as if she didn’t understand why I would want to do such a thing. But the inherent tension of my breaking and entering wasn’t lost on either of us.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. It’s just…” I gestured to my injury.

  Her eyes settled on the sopping, torn-off sweater sleeves wrapped around my ribcage. “Holy shit.” Instantly, her demeanor morphed into something quasi-professional. “You’d better come back here, I guess. I don’t know who you are, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t die on the floor of the clinic.” She grabbed a key off a set of hooks and used it to open yet another door. “Come on, don’t just stand there. Frankly, it seems like you’re lucky to be standing at all.”

  Slightly overwhelmed by the circumstantial shift, I did as I was told. The woman was pulling a blanket out of a closet inside the room. She spread it over a chair and directed me to sit. “I’d put you on the exam table, but, uh, it’s made for dogs,” she said, somewhat apologetically. Then she knelt in front of me to examine the handiwork I’d done on myself.

  “Thanks,” I offered lamely. “I’m… I’m sorry for the break in. I would’ve chosen a regular doctor’s office instead, but I couldn’t find one.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, we don’t really have an established practice around here. Nearest thing is Dr. Stiegler, and he’s a traveler. He comes by a couple days a week, but in between, I handle the small stuff. So really, you came to the right place.” A frown creased her forehead. “But this isn’t exactly small. What exactly happened to you?”

  “I was attacked by a wolf in the woods.” The lie was so automatic I almost forgot it was a lie.

  “Hmm,” the vet said. She snapped on a pair of gloves from a dispenser over the sink and took one of my makeshift bandages in her fingers. “I’m gonna take this off. You ready?”

  I sucked in my breath. “Shoot.”

  She peeled it away from my torn skin gently but firmly. I clamped down on my tongue. The second one wasn’t so bad, but only because everything already hurt, so all the pain blended together. My eyes watered. Nice to know the nectar hadn’t dulled my pain receptors or anything.

  “When did this happen?” The vet eased me as far back into the chair as I could go and set about methodically cleaning the slashes on my ribs, just like I’d done for Deacon. The water was tough, but tolerable. The alcohol made me want to die.

  “A while ago,” I croaked.

  “And you said it was a wolf?”
Skepticism ran wild through her tone, but I could tell she wasn’t able to come up with a more feasible explanation.

  “Looked like a wolf.” The burn of the alcohol finally fizzled out, and I exhaled. “Not positive. I didn’t see it too well.”

  “Well, you’re lucky it happened so close to here. The next closest town is up the river to the east, and rumor has it they’ve been in a bad way as of late.”

  “Yeah?” I assumed she was talking about Mormouth, but maybe she had different information.

  “We used to get visitors from there every now and then. Not a lot, but regular enough. I haven’t seen anyone coming from that direction in awhile.” She shrugged. “There’s a lot of talk flying around, but you know how small towns are. Someone hears something, and that thing becomes something else. I don’t know. I try to stay out of all that drama. I’m just the vet, you know?”

  I smiled a little. “Yeah. Are you… do you get much business?”

  I didn’t know what it was about sitting in a chair while someone looked after you, but there was an undeniable urge to engage in small talk. The words sounded stupid coming out of my mouth, and yet, I was powerless to stop them.

  She glanced up at me and raised an eyebrow. “I get enough. Can’t say this is my dream job, exactly, but it pays the bills. And I’ve got a lot of bills to pay.” Unrolling a length of proper bandages, she pinned them carefully in place. “Almost everyone I know thought I should have stayed in the city, but,” she sighed, “I got tired of checking up on twenty Yorkies a week. Here, at least there’s some variety. I even got a person this morning, see?”

  I chuckled sheepishly. “I really am sorry. I should have just knocked louder, I guess.”

  She waved me off. “I’m just glad you didn’t break the glass. Isn’t that what they normally do in the movies? Not to mention, I would have freaked out too if I was hurt like this. But you’ll be fine. And I doubt it was a wolf, by the way.”

  My stomach tightened painfully. “No?”

  “We have wolves around here, but they usually don’t get up close and personal with people. They aren’t the cold-blooded killers everyone thinks they are. Coyotes, on the other hand, they can be mean little bastards if they feel like it. That’s most likely what got ahold of you. Although judging by these scratches, it would have had to be a big one. These lacerations are spread pretty far apart.” She paused, gauging my wounds with the width of two of her fingers. “You might need to get some shots, but it’s hard to say for sure without the actual animal to test for rabies. Keep a very close eye on things, okay? You wouldn’t want to take any unnecessary chances.”