by Rose O'Brien
“I won’t hurt you,” the spirit said. His voice was clear now, if a little rough. He put a hand out toward her like she was a nervous animal that might bolt at any second. It was a fair assessment.
“I saw you, before,” was all she could manage.
The spirit’s eyes were bright red, full of burst blood vessels and there were claw marks on his neck that looked like they’d been made by fingernails.
“I was there in Damascus. I tried to warn you.”
“I couldn’t hear you,” Jen said. “That happens sometimes with spirits. I wish I’d known.”
“Me too,” he said, his voice sad. “I’m Jeremiah. I was the commander of the Damascus team. Before.” Jeremiah had probably been a handsome man before his death, if his spirit was any indication. He was tall, well-muscled, with dark hair and eyes. His spirit wore clothing much like Theron had, fatigue pants, tight T-shirt.
“What happened to you?” Jen asked.
“Bridget,” the spirit said, his voice shaking with anger and his lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl. “That fucking traitor. She suffocated me. Used her powers to pull the air right out of my lungs. Attacked us in our sleep. She killed the whole team.”
That explained the red of his eyes. Petechial hemorrhaging. It happened when people suffocated or were asphyxiated. She’d seen it before. He must have clawed at his throat as he was dying, leaving those furrows in his neck.
“She came to us from Baghdad a while back. Last surviving member of that team. Now, I realize she probably set them up and got them killed.”
That fit with what Rafi had told her about his death.
Jeremiah moved closer and Jen didn’t shrink away.
“I saw what happened to Theron. I followed you and Bridget through the portal and hid myself.”
“Why would you throw yourself into Hell?” she asked, incredulous.
“I knew Theron Blackwell, and he was a good mage, one of the best. He wasn’t in a position to help you and I was. You’re a seer, maybe one of the last. And you’re the secret weapon the demons need to take this war to the next level.”
“Lilith said they’re trying to stop the invasion.”
“I heard all of that,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t buy that for a minute, and you shouldn’t either.”
He stepped forward and put a hand to her shoulder, not yet having lost the gestures he’d used in life.
Jen almost fell out of her chair when his hand didn’t pass through her shoulder. He was solid!
Leaping to her feet, she backed away quickly.
“How did you do that?”
“You heard them. Thought has form here. Spirits have form. Demons have form. Give it a try, think of something.”
She decided on something harmless and turned all her concentration on one image. Holding her palm out, a red rubber ball appeared in her hand. She almost dropped it. The thing was solid. It even smelled like rubber. She threw it at the floor, and it bounced, hit the wall, and traveled through the air until Jeremiah snagged it.
Whoa.
The moment she stopped thinking about the ball, it popped out of existence.
***
Theron wasn’t sure how long it had been. He never wore a watch, because they tended to melt when he started throwing his fire around. He’d left his phone on the other side of the portal, knowing the thing would be worse than useless here. It had maybe been twelve hours, he guessed.
He and Xander had reached the base of the mountains.
“Should probably make camp and start the climb after a few hours of sleep,” Xander said.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Look, dude. There’s no sunlight here, not really. You’re gonna drain pretty fast if you don’t preserve your strength. You don’t want to be spent by the time we get to the fight, do you?”
Xander had a point, damn it. His older brother was ever the pragmatist. Theron had always been the impulsive one.
“What if they’re hurting her?” Theron said softly.
“She’s the freakin’ golden goose, by all accounts. They’re probably treating her like a queen.”
“Or torturing her until she breaks.”
“You can’t think that way, man,” Xander said, his hand gripping Theron’s shoulder reassuringly.
What the hell did Xander know? He’d never loved anything or anyone in his life. He was an assassin, for the gods’ sakes. His emotional armor was a mile thick and Theron wasn’t sure he actually cared about anything in this universe, even his own life.
Theron gazed up at the glittering black mountains. It was going to be a heck of a climb. His heart demanded that he keep going until he had Jen safe in his arms again. His aching body was quick to remind him that he’d been shot and severely burned just a few hours ago and had then undertaken a grueling march.
“Fine. We eat and then rest for four hours,” Theron said, slipping his pack from his aching shoulders.
Just as they were settling down and ripping into their protein bars, a rumbling growl split the air. Every hair on Theron’s body stood on end at the sound of that growl. He froze, then slowly turned.
He and Xander had made camp in a circle of huge boulders that provided some protection from the hot wind that blew down from the volcanoes around them.
From behind one of the boulders, a form moved on four legs, creeping toward them. The first thing Theron saw was the eyes, burning red like hot coals. They were set in a canine face Below the eyes, fangs gleamed black, like the obsidian landscape around them.
Theron rose to his feet, extending a defensive hand toward the creature as he backed up. Glancing behind him, he saw that Xander was also on his feet, his daggers in his hands.
Theron’s free hand went to the .50 cal he had strapped to his hip. He was ready to call a fireball if he needed to, but this creature looked like it was made of fire, so he wasn’t sure how effective his powers would be.
The creature was covered with glowing red lines, running like cracks over its skin. It reminded Theron of a lava flow he’d seen in Hawaii. It had stopped growling and had instead raised its head, looking for all the world like it was sniffing the air. The two mages stayed perfectly still, barely breathing.
After a few moments, the creature approached slowly, it’s head down, its glowing gaze locked on Theron.
“Xander,” Theron whispered. “What the hell is this thing? What do I do?”
“Fuck if I know,” Xander snapped. “But if I had to guess, I’d say that’s a Hellhound. And it looks like it wants to make friends.”
“Or eat me,” Theron said.
The creature continued to creep forward. It was huge. Its head came up to Theron’s waist; its body was compact and rippling with muscle, with no tail and a build like a mastiff or similar hound.
The creature’s head was within inches of Theron’s outstretched hand, but he stayed frozen. The hound slowly placed the dome of its head against his palm. The thing’s skin was rough like pumice and almost scalding hot, but Theron used his powers to absorb the heat in a way that didn’t hurt him.
“Good doggie,” Theron said softly. Glancing at Xander, he said, “I think he’s friendly.”
Suddenly, images, sounds, and thoughts that were not his own bombarded his brain. He winced and almost screamed. Fire. Stone. Running on all fours, chasing prey. A pack. Rejection. Hunger. Loneliness.
The images stopped, and there was just the darkness of his closed eyes. And a rumbling voice that sounded like a concrete mixer.
“What are you?” the voice asked. The thing had spoken in his head.
“I’m a mage,” Theron replied with his voice, but the thing seemed to understand him.
“Why do you smell like fire?”
“I have fire inside me.”
“So do I,” the hound said.
“Can I ask what you are?” Theron said.
“Can’t find the right word in your mind. You want to call me hellhound. Th
is is appropriate.”
“How do you speak my language?”
“I see the words in your mind.”
“Freaky.”
“Hardly. This is how all Hellhounds communicate. But you are not a Hellhound. Is this not how you communicate with your kind?”
“No, it’s not,” Theron said.
Xander’s voice intruded on the conversation, and Theron’s eyes snapped open.
“I hate to interrupt what’s happening here, but can you clue me in on whether I need to stab this thing to death or not?”
“No!” Theron shouted at the same time the Hellhound growled.
“Everybody, chill,” Theron told them. “What’s your name, Hellhound?”
“What is name?”
“The thing you’re called by others. My name is Theron.”
“I am not called anything,” the hound replied.
“What is it that you want?” Theron asked, a little nervous about the answer.
“You smell like food. You are in pain and it’s delicious. Fills up my belly. I like your fire. Feels like pack. But you are not pack.”
The animal tilted its head, as if it was confused, looking for all the world like a typical dog trying to figure out what its master was saying.
“Excuse me a minute,” Theron said, removing his hand and stepping away.
Xander’s eyes were wide, his posture tense and his daggers held at the ready.
“What the fuck, man?”
“I think he’s friendly,” Theron said.
“What?”
“He seems to like me.”
“I do like you,” the voice spoke inside his mind. Theron’s head jerked around like he’d been slapped.
“That thing is talking in your head, isn’t it? Just let me kill it.”
“No!” Theron and the hound shouted at the same time.
They were all quiet for a moment, looking at each other. Finally, Xander looked back and forth between them, his gaze bouncing in rapid succession.
“Holy shit,” he said. “I think that thing just became your familiar.”
“What? No way. It doesn’t happen that fast.”
“It did for Alayna and Z. It did for me and Katya.”
Theron had never had a familiar, so he wouldn’t know. It wasn’t unusual for fire mages to go their whole lives without one. Not many animals liked hanging around fire slingers. And wouldn’t it figure that he ended up with something as unusual as a Hellhound for a familiar. His sister had a dragon for a familiar. Xander had a rusalka, an undead, vengeful water spirit who was most likely hanging out in the waterskin that hung at Xander’s belt.
It seemed the Blackwells couldn’t do anything normal.
***
“I’m going to have to call you something,” Theron told the Hellhound. The three of them were hiking the steep slopes of the mountain range now, Theron in the lead, the Hellhound by his side and Xander bringing up the rear.
He and Xander had been able to get some sleep, although Xander had insisted they do it in shifts. The Hellhound had offered to keep watch since he, apparently didn’t require sleep, but Xander wasn’t ready to trust the creature yet.
Theron could sense the creature’s thoughts, and while he was relatively new to the practice, he was pretty sure he’d know if the hound was going to double cross them. He and the hound continued to test their new bond.
The hound had explained that like all life in this realm, he fed on the energy of emotion, namely negative ones. Pain, fear, anger, and sorrow were his favorites, he’d explained as they’d settled in to rest hours ago.
“You are feeling all of these,” the hound had said. “And guilt. So much guilt. This is particularly delicious. I have not been this satiated since my pack rejected me.”
The hound had explained that he was the runt of the pack, which made Theron nervous to see what a full-size Hellhound looked like, since this one was big enough to put his paws on Theron’s shoulders if he stood on his hind legs.
The hound’s pack was starving. Food was scarce because the demons had rounded up nearly every spirit in the realm and were keeping them corralled somewhere. The Hellhounds hunted spirits, fed off their fear and pain. As the runt, this hound had been rejected to prolong the pack’s survival.
The hound was a font of knowledge about this realm. In exchange for his guidance and protection, the hound only wanted to hang around and feed off all the painful things he’d been feeling since Jen was taken. If someone could benefit from the guilt that was clawing at his guts, then that was just great.
“I call break,” Xander said breathlessly behind him.
“What? We need to keep going,” Theron snapped at him.
“We need to eat something and rest for a few minutes,” Xander said. “You’re not getting your solar recharge, and there sure as fuck isn’t any water in this dimension, so I’m out of luck too.”
While fire mages needed sunlight to recharge, water mages needed flowing water to recharge their magickal batteries. There wasn’t a drop of moisture in this realm, and the water in their packs wouldn’t cut it. It had to be a lake or a river or the ocean to do any good.
Theron knew Xander’s familiar, Katya, would be able to provide him some energy, but Xander didn’t want to risk bringing her out of her waterskin in this realm. Katya was technically a spirit and everything in this realm seemed to eat spirits. He wouldn’t risk her.
If Katya were destroyed, the psychic wound would incapacitate Xander, possibly kill him. That was the danger of bonding with a sentient, intelligent creature.
Xander parked it on a boulder and tore a protein bar open. With little choice but to follow suit, Theron settled down, his back to a rock wall. They chewed in silence for awhile before Xander’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“You might not have heard, but apparently the prophecy is back in play.”
Theron laughed softly. “The one that says the Blackwell siblings are supposed to save the world? That prophecy? I thought they decided that wasn’t about us because Alayna is a whisperer.”
“The very same. When Alayna pulled her return from the dead act a few months ago, the Corps and the Council started blathering about it again.”
The words of a prophecy hundreds of years old floated up through Theron’s memory.
Four and four and four They will stand against the darkness They will bar the door against the ravenous ones A child of the golden air A child of the burning sun A child of the troubled water And a child of the wild earth Born of the same womb Will unite the people of the sun and moon In victory, there will be peace
Supposedly, it rhymed in the original Elvish language.
“I don’t particularly want to be a chosen one, do you?”
“Definitely not,” Xander said. “But we may not have much of a choice.”
“We don’t even know if Kayla is still alive. There may not be four Blackwell kids anymore.”
Their oldest sister had disappeared when Theron was 14. It had been the eve of Kayla’s graduation from the Academy. She’d left without saying a word to anyone. A short note had expressed her love for her family and asked that she not be followed or contacted. Kayla had always chafed under the rules of the Corps. After their father died, she’d been rebellious and difficult to control. When Alayna had been identified as a whisperer, a powerful mage who was destined to die performing a fatal spell, that had shattered Kayla. And her disappearance had shattered their family.
“She’s alive,” Xander said. “I think she’s doing some kind of job for the Council and they know where she is. Otherwise, she would have been labeled a rogue and hunted down by the Wraiths. Her kill sheet would be in the files.”
“It’s been almost 15 years. If she was alive, you’d think we would have heard something.”
They both fell silent. They could worry about their wayward sister if they lived through this. Beside him, the hound shook himself like a dog, sending embers off his skin that danced in the a
ir like the sparks of a campfire. It was actually kind of pretty.
“Sparky,” Theron said aloud, smiling a little to himself. The hound spun three times and curled up on the ground. “I’ll call you Sparky.”
The hound raised his head and looked at Theron for a moment.
“This designation is acceptable,” he said before settling back down again.
Theron chewed his protein bar, not even tasting the thing, his right boot bouncing anxiously in the black dust. HIs thoughts were with Jen. Where was she? Was she hurt? Was she even still alive?
Fear for her made his stomach churn. Guilt made his chest burn. What if he’d been faster? What if he’d been stronger? What if he’d been smarter and had seen the double cross with Bridget coming sooner? Could he have saved Jen?
You couldn’t save her then, and you can’t save her now.
It was like a voice whispering in his ear. He looked to Xander and Sparky, but they hadn’t reacted like they’d heard anything.
You’re going to fail, just like you’ve failed at everything else.
There it was again. Theron looked around frantically, his eyes darting between boulders and outcroppings, searching for the threat.
You couldn’t save your father. You couldn’t save your best friends. You couldn’t save your sister. You won’t be able to save the woman you love, and you’re going to get yourself and your brother killed trying.
“Shut up,” Theron said, his voice low and hard.
Xander shot him a narrow-eyed questioning look, but Theron waved a hand to dismiss his concern.
You can’t stop what’s coming. Let me show you the destruction you won’t live to see.
Suddenly, images assailed Theron’s mind. He felt himself sinking to his knees in the dust, clutching his head in both hands as pain ripped through him. When he opened his eyes, a city burned around him, smoke filling his nose and mouth, choking him.
He knelt on a street, tall buildings rising around him. The structures were cracked open, half destroyed, bombed out. Human bodies littered the ground and blood decorated the walls at street level. It looked like there had been a battle here.