Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4)

by Briana Michaels

  So why was she still standing there out in the cold?

  Because she wasn’t done here. Not by a fucking long shot.

  Tilly marched back into the house, took the steps two at a time, and ran into her bedroom. Snatching her phone from the charger, she dialed a number saved just for emergencies. “Paul, it’s Tilly. Can you please get the jet ready for me? Yes, now. Paris. Yes, I will. Okay. Thank you.” She hung up and grabbed just the necessities, stuffing them into a black book bag that belonged to one of the Hell Hounds. She found the damn thing in a closet while looking for all the shit she was going to need to join the hunt.

  Grabbing keys from a glass bowl by the front door, she hit a button on the key fob and listened for the beep, beep! Tilly smiled. Looked like she was taking a Dodge Ram 3500 to the airport.

  Double checking that she had everything, Tilly started the engine and headed out.

  Sometimes synchronicity had a very macabre sense of humor, she thought. “Catacombs of Paris, here I come…. Again.”

  Chapter 41

  “I hate this,” Bishop loaded his gun and double checked the safety.

  “Which part?” Valor pulled out his phone and tried to dial while speeding down the road, “Ditching Tilly, or knowing the twins are suffering terribly?”

  “Both. All of it.”

  Valor’s phone connected and Kalen’s voice blasted through the truck’s sound system, “Hello?”

  “Wolf, I need help. Can ye set up a train of portals? I need to reach Paris.”

  “Paris?”

  “The twins are there.” The way Valor gripped the steering wheel, he was all but strangling it. “Can ye help us?”

  “Of course, yeah, hang on a second. Tanner!”

  They could hear Tanner in the background, “What’s up, Wolf? You just woke Beautiful with your big fucking mouth.”

  “Shit. Sorry. Listen, can you set up a fast track for Val and Bishop? They need to get to Paris.”

  “Oui, oui. Right now?”

  “No, next Christmas.”

  “Fucker.”

  There was some shuffling around. “Where are you now, Val?” Kalen’s voice was deep and serious.

  “Still in Baltimore, we just left the house.” Valor pulled onto the highway.

  “How’d you find out where they were?”

  Tanner piped up with “They found the twins?” in the background.

  “Shut up so I can hear, Tanner,” Kalen growled. “How did you find them?”

  “Tilly,” Valor and Bishop said at the same time.

  “How?”

  Bishop answered, “She summoned Baz’s soul.”

  “So that’s what Jack was talking about.” Kalen’s end of the line got muffled for a minute and then, “Is she with you now?”

  “No,” they both answered again. Bishop growled, agitation and impatience were quick fuses to light for both of them today.

  “We didn’t want her involved, we left her at home.”

  “Home?” Kalen’s disapproval was obvious, “The girl just went to great lengths to fucking help you and you left her alone when you know there’s a good possibility that someone could still be after her?”

  “She’s at our house, not hers. No one even kens she’s there and it’s a fucking fortress with the highest security measures possible against human invasions,” Val argued. “And I canna juggle five things at once right now, Wolf. She’s home, where she will remain safe. Bishop and I are going to get the twins and then we’ll return and go from there.”

  “Annnd there’s your first mistake. Damnit, Val, you fucking suck when it comes to women, you do realize that right?”

  Valor’s face grew hot, he strangled the steering wheel harder. “You think she’s going to sit still and wait at the door for you to come home? No woman worth her salt is going to do that. Not after what she’s already done for you.”

  Bishop ran his hand down his face, cussing under his breath. “He’s right. You know he’s fucking right.”

  “All the more reason to hurry the fuck up with this mission then, Wolf.” Valor kept his eyes locked on the road and stepped on the gas.

  “Where in Paris are you headed?”

  “The Catacombs.”

  The silence on the other end of the line filled the truck. Bishop’s window was already cracked open, and the tension in the air caused Valor to lower his window too. No one said a word for over a minute. They all knew what the catacombs would do to Bishop’s psyche, but no one was going to point out the obvious – or tell Bishop to not come.

  “Wolf!” Tanner’s voice cut through the tension, “Tell ‘em it’s all set up. I got the line to run all the way to Paris, but the French pack isn’t answering. Should I use the mirror?” His excitement came through loud and clear. “He need us to come?” Tanner asked in the background. “Eli and I can go, you and Jack can take Beautiful to hang out with Tilly.”

  “No need to use the mirror. So long as we land in Paris, I can take it from there. We doona need ye to come along.”

  “You sure?” Kalen asked.

  “Aye, Wolf. Stay where ye are.”

  “Okay, well, if you change your mind…”

  “Got it, and thank ye. Thank Tanner for us too.”

  “Good luck. Call us when you get them home.”

  Valor hit a button on his steering wheel and hung up. Bishop ran a hand through his hair and wound his window down more. They drove in silence for longer than Valor thought Bishop would be able to stand. Then three, two, one… Bishop turned on the radio and started drumming his thumbs against his thighs. “Do you think she’ll be there when we get back?”

  Valor’s jaw clenched. He’d told her to stay, but…

  Bile rose in his throat. He didn’t have the capacity to worry about more than the twins right now. Tilly was a grown woman. She could make her own decisions. If she chose to stay and wait for their return, he’d find a way to make all this up to her. If she chose to leave then… Well Hell, he’d still find a way to apologize and make things right between them.

  They arrived at the first portal, which was still in their territory, and Valor plowed into the dark hole. They came out still going about ninety miles per hour.

  “What do you think is happening to them?” Bishop’s voice was barely audible. “Who would be doing something to them?” His grip tightened on his knees.

  “I doona ken, Hound.” Valor tried to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible. Bishop was going to snap, he could tell. “I’m just glad we have a direction to go in now.”

  “Thanks to Tilly.”

  “Mmm hmm”

  Silence again. The radio was nothing but background noise that Valor could easily tune out while Bishop was no doubt focusing on the songs to distract himself from whatever was screaming in his head.

  “I heard him scream,” Bishop stared out the window. “I heard Baz screaming over the radio when Tilly summoned him.”

  Valor strangled the steering wheel again, “Aye, so did I.”

  “I can’t get it out of my head, Val.”

  “Me either.” He didn’t even want to discuss it.

  Hearing Baz beg Tilly, his voice a static panicked sound coming through a speaker, was something neither of them had prepared for. And to hear the struggle, the terror, the fear in Baz – a Hound that was never rattled by anything – was a terrifying thing indeed. Valor wasn’t even going to bring it up. They’d both heard it, neither of them could move any faster than they were. He stepped on the gas again.

  Bishop rammed the back of his head against his seat. “What if we don’t reach them in time?”

  “We will.”

  “But what if we—”

  “Fuck,” Valor turned up the radio and put all the windows down. The air was freezing cold, Head Like a Hole, by Nine Inch Nails blared through the speakers, and the sky was as bleak as their hopes.

  Bishop rolled his window up. “Put the windows up, Val.”

  He did. The windows c
losed and the air shifted in the vehicle. Bishop rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs again. He was practicing how to deal with being trapped in a small space. Talk about a crash course. Bishop was failing miserably. Thirty seconds in and Bishop paled.

  Shit.

  This wasn’t going to work. There was no way Bishop would make it in the catacombs. The Hound said something and Valor only caught the last half of it. He turned the radio off, “What?”

  “I said I’m not coming out without them.” Bishop glared at his alpha, “If they don’t make it out of there… neither do I. Understand what I’m saying to you, alpha?”

  Fuuuuck.

  Baz lost his breath. His mouth gaped open and a new fresh Hell wreaked havoc in his body. They were trying to rip his soul away and it felt like he was being shredded with claws dipped in acid.

  Another wave of nausea caused him to dry heave. Still strapped down to a table he could barely move. His vision was nearly gone, all he could see were silhouettes in black and shades of purple. His palm burned like a bitch where that woman carved into his palm.

  Whoever that woman was in his house had some serious power. She’d not only cut the ties in his mouth, but was able to see and summon him. He had no idea how she was able to rip his soul away without his permission. Nor did he care. He was just so fucking grateful that she had and that she knew Valor and Bishop. Maybe she was one of the psychics Valor was so fond of. If so, Baz would apologize to him later for criticizing that breed of magic users for calling them quacks.

  Baz heaved again. His back arched as a new wave of excruciating pain lanced him. Baz’s throat and belly convulsed as his head jerked forward. He cried out again. His palm burned stronger.

  “It’s not working,” someone said.

  “Try this.”

  A cold, wet sensation rippled down Baz’s torso, followed by an electrical charge. His body spasmed violently.

  “Damn, nothing’s fucking working.”

  “We don’t have much time left. Master will have our asses if we don’t have this soul before he returns.” There was shuffling and some metal clanking. “How the hell did he cut his mouth bindings?”

  “No idea,” the other said. “His brother’s been tied up. They’ve been separated the whole time.”

  “Girl, did you do this?”

  Baz heard a mumbling sound and then a hard slap. The Hound went apeshit under his restraints knowing damn well they’d just struck a child. He roared in fury as a new wave of energy pulsed inside him.

  “Hit her again,” the first voice commanded.

  There was another striking sound, followed by a whimper. In the distance, Baz now heard his brother’s muffled growls. At least Drake was there and still alive.

  “Again.” Another strike. Another cry.

  Heat tickled Baz’s ear. The acrid scent of their enemy’s hot breath filled Baz’s nostrils. “We can do this the slow way,” another slap, another cry, “or the easy way,” another much louder crack, and a much louder scream. Baz stiffened with fury. “The choice is yours, Hound. Give us your soul, or listen to the sounds of us beating this child until she’s nothing but raw meat and broken bones.”

  Live or die.

  He might have been stripped of most of his Hell Hound powers, but one thing still remained – Baz’s protective instincts. He couldn’t allow a child to die because of him. In the back of his head, he knew this was a joke of a bargain. They would kill the girl no matter what. They were going to kill Baz and Drake too. The suffering could all stop if Baz just gave up.

  This whole time the twins had tried their hardest to hold out a little longer, prolong the inevitable, with the hope that a miracle would happen. But it was too much. He desperately wanted to tap out. Maybe that woman would tell Valor and Bishop about him and they’d hunt harder. Faster. And could at least bring back their corpses to Lucifer. Waiting any longer for a search and rescue wasn’t an option anymore.

  “Will you relinquish your soul?”

  Crack! Another tiny bone broke. The girl screamed. Drake screamed. Baz roared.

  Hot tears trailed down his temples. “Take it.” Baz slammed his head back on the stone slab and squeezed his eyes shut. He was damning both himself and his twin – Drake was surviving as a Hound because Baz shared his soul with him.

  “And this is of your own free will?”

  He nodded.

  “Good dog.”

  Both twins screamed while the enemy started to pull Baz’s soul away.

  Chapter 42

  Tilly walked into the hangar and smiled. “How are you, Paul?”

  “Doing just fine, just fine, darlin’.” They hugged tightly. Paul had been flying their family plane for over twenty years and when Tilly’s father died, Paul was right there crying alongside his grave with Vivian and Tilly.

  “Come on,” she pointed at the aircraft, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Paul helped her climb the narrow steps and she saw the co-pilot, Paul’s son, “How’s it going Dwayne?”

  “Good, Tilly. Been a while, huh?” Dwayne kept busy checking and rechecking everything. “We’re cleared to go. Just have a seat and buckle up.”

  Tilly sat down in the seat she always took. It was by the window, facing forward. A flashback of their father and Vivian sitting across from her formed: Vivian and their father sat side by side, talking about what landmarks to see first and planning out an itinerary in Vivian’s special notebooks she used just for traveling. The wonky shape of France was cut out and pasted onto the page with little star stickers marking all the places Vivian wanted to go to.

  Tilly closed her eyes to cut off the memory.

  Their father had given them everything growing up and still Tilly’s heart grew bitter with every year that passed. Money didn’t buy her life a longer span. Money hadn’t saved her mother from their curse. Money bought them memories, gourmet dinners, fine clothes, and experiences that lasted only as long as their vacations did.

  He loved his daughters dearly, but Tilly harbored a healthy amount of hate and resentment for him that only grew as she got older. Then he died…

  “Fuck,” she cursed under her breath. She looked out the window and felt a terrible sense of dread as the plane began to taxi. What the hell was she doing? Winging it. That’s what she was doing. Tilly was winging it – her decisions, her life, hell, if she had makeup with her, she’d wing her eyeliner too at this point.

  Talk about flying by the seat of your pants. Tilly’s stomach dipped as the plane took to the skies. Pulling out her phone, she plugged in her headphones and closed her eyes. She needed to get some rest. Lord knows she was going to need all the energy she could muster soon.

  Energy. That was something else she didn’t want to think too hard about. After the exchange between her, Valor, and the added benefit of Bishop’s magic touch, Tilly felt so much better now. She wasn’t hot or sluggish or swollen with need anymore. Part of her was relieved, the other part was disappointed and she didn’t even know why. At least she was no longer cooking like a pot roast in her own skin. As a matter of fact, she was a little cold.

  Tilly curled into herself, turned up the volume to her music, and closed her eyes again. As Two Feet began singing Back of my Mind, she prayed, “Help me out here okay? Please?” She wasn’t sure who she was praying to.

  She would have prayed to her mother, but didn’t know where her mother even was. Hell? The cursed ones belong to Hell. Zaza’s voice slithered into Tilly’s head. She didn’t want to think about her mother burning in Hell. She didn’t want to think about her mother at all.

  “Dad,” she said, “Can you even hear me?”

  She doubted it. He hadn’t listened to her when he was alive, no reason to think he would now.

  “Please… if anyone can hear me… protect them.”

  She didn’t bother to ask for protection for herself. Prayers wouldn’t work for her because she didn’t stand a chance of surviving much longer anyway. It would be a waste o
f breath. When she opened her eyes again, Tilly stared down at her hands and thought of the mark she’d carved into Baz’s hand.

  Holy Hell, he looked terrified when she’d summoned him. Baz didn’t look like the same person that kept popping into her life at odd moments in random places for the past few weeks. He looked like a zombie. And the pain he was in… shit, no man should ever scream like that. Tilly doubted she’d ever get the sound to stop ringing in her ears.

  Strange, what one does in a panicked state of mind. In her rush to help in some way, Tilly had carved a spell on him that would hopefully work as she intended. If not, then—

  Well, fuck. She didn’t want to think about the if nots…

  Bishop ran alongside Valor down the streets of Paris. “Do you think we’re too late?”

  “No, they’re strong. They wouldna give up.”

  The closer they got to their destination, the more Bishop’s sanity frayed. It felt like it took a lifetime to reach Paris. When they arrived, the pack in charge of this district wasn’t there to meet them. No matter, they didn’t need a ride to the catacombs. They could run from here.

  Still, they could have used some direction. Bishop didn’t know a damned thing about the catacombs because he never planned to step his claustrophobic ass into an underground tunnel of bones. Valor didn’t know much about it either. Still, they weren’t going to let anything stand in their way of getting back the twins.

  “I don’t feel them,” Valor frowned. “I thought I’d sense my Hounds.”

  My Hounds. Bishop rolled his eyes. Valor always was a possessive creature. His pack. His Hounds. Bishop claimed just as much rights to their pack as Valor. “Our Hounds, alpha, our Hounds.”

  Valor swallowed and nodded. Well now Bishop felt like shit. Valor was the Alpha, of course he’d take ownership of their pack, it was his duty and responsibility. The Hell Hound had spent all their years together making sure they were all safe, that their district was patrolled to their greatest capabilities, and losing the twins had been just as big a blow to Valor as it had Bishop.