by A. K. Koonce
“He looks peaceful,” I murmur, not realizing the soft words will halt the conversation flowing around me to silence.
Aric scoffs and a ghost of a smile graces Latham’s kissable lips. Torben looks to the heavens like they’ll be able to save him, and I prop my hands on my hips.
“The hellhound is chained. Can’t we just skirt past him and go through the gate?” It seems like an obvious plan, but it’s apparently flawed from the way they’re looking at me.
“That chain gives him plenty of leeway,” Latham explains.
“And you have to prove your strength and cunning before he’ll allow you to pass.”
Torben shrugs, not disagreeing with the others. “Garm’s strength and ferocity are legendary, plus he has a wicked bite and breath of fire. You won’t get within ten feet without being roasted to a crisp for daring to cross him.”
“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” I stare at the beast, still standing by my assessment. “Don’t tell me you’re going to take him out.” For no apparent reason, I have a lot more loyalty to this sleeping beast than I did for the ogre, and I can’t stand the idea of him getting hurt. Unlike the guardian of the bridge, the guardian of the gate has no freedom. The chain binds him, digging into his black fur and rubbing him raw where the iron shackles around his neck.
No one should be stuck like that. The wolf inside of me agrees, howling out her feelings on the matter.
She’s just as appalled as I am at Garm’s treatment.
“No one ‘takes out’ the guardian of Hell, Love,” Aric tells me.
The three of them huddle together like Hell’s hottest football team to create a game plan.
“Draw it to the left until the chain is taut. If you keep it distracted, Aric can swoop down from above and singe the fucker before he can roast us,” Torben muses.
“Or…” I hold up a finger, chiming in from the cheerleading section they’ve so obviously put me in. All I need are some pom poms and an outfit with a little skirt that shows off my legs and tits. “Latham could poof in and out, keeping him distracted while we sneak past the gate.” It seems like a perfectly plausible option, so I have no clue why they’re all staring at me with skeptical, unimpressed expressions.
“I don’t go poof.” Latham shakes his head, accidentally tossing his hair across his forehead before flicking it away with that sexy head jerk thing guys do.
“You are kind of poofy.” Aric smiles that feral cat grin, the wicked, mischievous glint in his golden eyes burning as brightly as the fiery river I’m content to never see again.
“If I am, so are you, you shadow asshole.” Latham nudges Aric, the two of them bantering like old women. It warms my heart to see them together like this, but I take the opportunity as they go back to planning to tap Aric on the shoulder.
Distracted, he only gives me half an ear.
“Do you have any more of that dried meat?” I inquire sweetly, and he grunts as he listens to Torben’s new plan that involves flaming swords.
He distractedly pulls out a hefty portion of meat and plops it in my palm without so much as a glance my way. Latham nods almost manically when Torben mentions the fiery sword again. I’m fairly sure these men would agree to anything that includes flaming weapons.
If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, the way to a hellish god’s heart is through weaponry.
And sex. Let’s not forget the sex.
I hum quietly to myself as I take the hunk of meat and sneak away. It’s honestly too easy. They’re not even paying attention as my soft, padding footsteps carry me toward the resting beast.
He rouses in his sleep the moment I get close, one large eye popping open as he assesses what disturbed his slumber.
“Hey there, big fella,” I coo in that voice that Loki despises but secretly loves. I hold the meat behind my back, easing forward as he lifts his monstrous head, both fiery, glowing red eyes fixated on my slight form. Compared to Garm, I’m a pixie. He’s massive, his paws span the entire width of my body.
A deep rumbling growl begins, and I hold out a hand.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand my nonthreatening tone, if not the words themselves. “That looks like it hurts.” My heart aches at the bleeding skin I spy chafing below the metal collar. No living being should ever be chained up, their freedom stripped to ribbons.
Anger curls in my stomach.
“Rhys!” Torben barks as they finally realize I’m not standing around waiting for them.
Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want anyone else to hurt this guy.
The beast stands, towering far above my head, and I hear the loud cursing suffuse the air behind me.
“Easy.” I take a step back, realizing that the beastly hellhound they call Garm could reach me in one bound. A single bite from those powerful jaws, and I’d be a goner. There wouldn’t be enough of me left to bury six feet under.
The hound prowls forward, his massive paw shaking the ground until I’m stumbling around like a drunk person on Mardi Gras.
This close, I can see all the scars and injuries that line his matted fur from previous battles he’s fought or had to defend himself against.
“I don’t want them to have to hurt you,” I tell him honestly. “Don’t do this.” Command fills my tone as I straighten my shoulders. My feet slide backward in the ashy dirt, one smooth footfall at a time as the hound stalks closer, hunting his easy prey.
He bares his teeth at me and lunges. I dart to the right, narrowly escaping the crash of jaws and gnashing of teeth as he growls and attacks.
The swipe of his big paw catches the edge of my arm as I try to duck out of his reach. Blood trickles out of the slashing wounds, but my wolf presses close, pushing her healing abilities into the injury until it begins knitting together.
Despite being hurt, I don’t want to retaliate the way my entourage of men rushing forward want to do.
I turn and hold my hands up at the three of them, searing them with an angry glare that slows their steps instantly.
“It’s not his fault this is what he’s trained to do.” The reprimand pulls Latham up short, his expression bleeding from furious to sheepish as he realizes what I say is right. “This is all he knows. Violence. Blood. Pain.”
I whirl, and the hound lowers his stance, ready to attack once more from where he spun around, never giving me his back. Another learned behavior. I know that feeling.
And my heart wins out. My magic unfurls. The power inside me builds until I push it toward Garm.
I let my shift wash over me, tearing at my limbs and ripping apart my joints in a scream-riddled moment of pain. The food in my hand falls to the ground. My four paws dig into the dirt as I stretch, pick up the dried meat, and walk slowly toward the hellhound.
His head tilts curiously at my white wolf.
Warm magic is a steady stream between us as I lope closer, taking it as a good sign that he’s not attacking.
Setting the meat down in front of him, I nudge it with my nose. In comparison to Garm’s size, it’s nothing more than a kibble, but I doubt anyone has brought him anything this fresh in a long time, unless you count anyone he gets to rip apart and snack on.
He bares his teeth, sneering at the gift like it’s poisoned.
I cock my head, staring. Then I lower my snout and take a tentative bite of the offering.
The growling stops, and the wolf tilts his head like I just did, staring at me with confusion.
I nudge the meat again, and this time he rakes it closer with a powerful paw.
Dipping low, he sniffs it, then licks it, then dives in, tearing it apart in a second flat, leaving no trace of it behind.
Shifting back, I stand before the beast fully naked, uncaring about my nudity. My chin lifts high, my gaze matching his with respect and care. A few steps and I’m able to dig my hand into his matted fur.
“I wish I could brush this for you. It’d hurt more than feel good rig
ht now, but every girl knows if you don’t brush away the knots, they just get worse. I bet no one has taken any time to groom you since you were born, have they?” My palm runs over the soft fur, taking in the numerous dips and scars and roughened skin beneath. This poor creature has been through hell for a being that lives just outside of it.
I send another wave of that mysterious power in my veins, and the hellhound lies down at my feet. His big eyes look up at me and my whole fucking heart melts for him.
As my nails dig behind his ears and around his neck, he rolls over fully for me to get his belly too.
“Aww.” I smile down at the good boy.
“The fuck?” Aric whispers, inching closer now that I’ve tamed the big bad wolf.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Latham asks.
“I’ve been through this gate a few times. I won’t lie, I’m responsible for a few of those scars. And I’ve never seen him act like this before.” Torben scratches his blond beard in astonishment. “We’re sure the meat wasn’t poisoned with something?” He swings his attention to Aric.
“If it was poisoned, I’d be getting fucking belly rubs right now too, dammit.”
“He just needed a little love,” I say, reaching up to scratch behind Garm’s ear again. He leans his head into me, licking his chops as he cranes his neck to get a better angle on my ministrations.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Aric grins. He sighs and runs a hand down his face. The day clings to us all, and once again Latham hands me another bundle of conjured clothing. I step back from the sweet hound, his lazy gaze following me. I stagger as I step into the black pants and pull on the crop top and boots. The neckline is high, but the entire expanse of my stomach is on display, keeping it modest and yet extremely sexy simultaneously. A feat most girls try to accomplish daily. Latham just gets it. I appreciate him in a way I can’t put into words. I’ve never had someone take care of me like he does.
I don’t even think he realizes it. He just gives. Freely.
“What were you thinking?” Torben questions harshly when I’m finally dressed. He was trying to be respectful and keep his eyes off my goodies, but now that I’m decent he doesn’t hold back. His attention is wandering across my curves and stomach even as he grumbles on. “That was reckless and irresponsible.”
“You said one needed to be cunning to be granted entrance,” I snipe back, because really… what can I say? He’s kind of right. Kind of. I shrug anyway. “You’re welcome.” I grin like my plan couldn’t have gotten me killed for my stupidity rather than my cleverness. “He’s just a puppy.”
“An evil hell pup who eats people like they’re hors d’oeuvres,” Aric adds.
“He almost ate you,” Latham obligingly points out to me.
“He was just hangry.”
All three men raise their brows at the unfamiliar word. Honestly, if it’s not already added to the dictionary, it should be. It embodies the feeling perfectly.
“You got lucky,” Torben grumbles, trying to get the last word.
I’m too competitive for that shit. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“That makes no fucking sense!” he bites out, trying to roll that saying around in his head. I can see the gears turning as he mulls it over. “Why would you want to catch fucking flies?” he finally says, and I giggle at the brute of a man.
At my side, Garm licks my hand and whines, asking for more food.
Aric empties his pockets for the beast before I even have to ask. I offer the last of our rations to the puppy, and he gobbles them up quickly.
There’s no more protest as we move past him and knock on the gate that leads to Hell. The loud clanging of fist to metal echoes into the crimson sky above. It takes a few long minutes. They tick by with the heavy pounding of my heart.
I don’t glance around. I don’t look questioningly to Latham like I want to. I try my best to act like I’m not scared shitless that I came all this way and nearly died so, so many times just to be denied at the door.
Out of thin air, a figure appears.
I flinch but hold my ground.
The black cloth of the person’s cloak drags in the dirt, and yet none of it stains the pure onyx fabric. Not an inch of their features or hands can be seen. Darkness clings to whatever lies beneath the hooded cloak.
The shrouded figure answers the door, swinging it open on a cry of hinges before ushering us inside.
“This way,” a woman’s voice says, a ghostly air lingering along her words. I take a step, but she speaks once more. “No pets allowed.”
I halt instantly, my gaze falling on the small gray cat at my feet. My stomach drops at the thought of leaving a house cat in the depths of Hell.
Until Loki bursts into fucking flames. The fiery hellcat languidly strides toward Garm. Loki takes a seat in the curve of the hound’s resting body and watches me intently.
He and I came here together, both of us trying to find where we truly belong. Our journey is over though. My sweet lifelong friend can’t come along with me any further. This is where I leave him. It’s possibly where he’s belonged all along.
Just like me.
My heart dips at that thought, but seeing him side by side with Garm feels safe.
I smile sadly at the enormous flaming cat who will forever be my pet and guardian. His head dips with a curt nod, a strangely knowing nod.
And I turn away with a sense of peace.
The three men follow me closely on all sides. I swallow hard and stride forward with my head held high.
With a backward glance, I make a silent promise that I’ll find a way to help Garm find freedom, one way or another. No one—not even this beast—deserves to be treated like a dog, or worse, like a possession to be abused.
I know all too well about being a victim of circumstance.
Garm and I are more alike than anyone realizes.
And now, I’m walking into his prison.
With my head held high.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The DGE
Rhys
The woman’s thick black cloak covers her from head to toe, but hints of white bone now sneak out with the swishing of her hemline as she leads us into the castle.
What is she?
Latham steps closer to me when she guides us down a shadowy hall. His arm brushes mine as we walk side by side, and somehow, the meager amount of space between us keeps getting smaller, as if he wants to just wrap me up entirely in his arms to shield me from what’s to come.
When we turn down the first hall at the entrance of the metallic castle, the darkness becomes dense and heavy around us. I can hear her footfalls ahead of me and the pairs of solid steps of the men behind me, but I can’t see a single thing.
And then I hear it.
A scream like flesh being torn from the bone little by little claws across the walls and scurries around us, over and over again. Thousands of them sing out in a horrific symphony of agony. My spine tenses hard, my steps falter, but I never stop walking. I keep going while the screams scratch like nails dragging over the brick floors.
A warm arm slips around my waist, and Latham pulls me closer to his side. It’s the simplest gesture shared in the dark.
The pounding of my heart calms. Though I know he’s keeping secrets, I think I trust him.
It’s a terrifying thought in the most terrifying setting, but it’s true.
“What is this place?” I whisper quietly to him. “I thought we were going to be in Hell once we passed the gates.” This certainly doesn’t look like anything I expected.
Not a single flame of hellfire shoots up from the floors here. No men hang on racks of torment. No men with pitchforks.
It all has a rather… haunted house feeling.
Except much, much more sinister.
“‘Tis the Hall of Misery,” the woman answers for him, her voice nothing more than an airy breath.
I swallow hard as I try to imagine what that means.
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“After death, some require punishment. For example, a lifetime of unending famine. A pain of the body literally eating itself to try to find nutrients. Just something to remind them of any wrong doings.” Her hollow voice quiets, the screams fade, and light illuminates a large open room up ahead. “Here we are,” she says, and as she turns to nod to us, the light shines across her, showing the features just beneath her thick hood.
A shiver spider walks down my arms at the sight of her. Skin the color of rotting fish clings to the hard bones of her skull just beneath. One eye socket is empty and dark, while the other has the remnants of an eyeball hanging down near the divot of her face where her nose should be.
My throat constricts as she passes me by, leaving us here in the safety of the light.
“Safe travels,” she whispers to each of us with a bow.
I’m still pressed tightly into Latham’s side. Aric steps forward with a glance at how intimately his friend holds me. He looks like he wishes it was him standing next to me, but as is his way, he says nothing. He lowers his head instead.
Someday, after all of this passes—if all of this passes—I might have a hard choice to make. A choice that could cost friendships.
And I won’t ruin their friendship.
My heart convulses, and I try not to think about losing them. Not right now anyway.
Strange music meets my ears, and I peer up at the room. My brows lower as I take in the weirdest thing I’ve seen yet in this realm.
The intense fluorescent brightness of the room falls across Aric’s inky tattoos, making him look more like the relentless protector I’ve come to know him to be.
“Have you been here before?” the shifter asks Latham and Torben.
Latham shakes his head slowly. “I was born into the Realm of Hell. And the people I bring here are runaways. Already Hell bound.”
“Same here,” Aric says, his gaze passing over the bizarre room with a hard line tensing his brow.