Page 112 of Hounded

Beside me, the kennel door yawned open. The walls inside were dented and rent from hellhound claws, slashing swipes and pounding fists desperate for escape. Moira reached down and unclipped the leash, and I took a single, suffocated breath before crawling into the metal box.

The door swung shut, then locked, and the world became a cacophony. Sounds echoed, the sides of the cage squeezed in, and I shifted on all fours, too cramped to sit upright in the restrictive space.

The other hounds yelped and howled, their racket deafening despite the muzzles combating their cries. Twisting and turning, I worked my body around to face the barred door. As much as I thought I’d resigned myself, my fate did not feel truly sealed until I watched the train of Moira’s gown slither out of sight.

40

Loren

While languishing in Hell’skennels, I had a lot of time to think.

From start to finish, I’d fumbled this whole thing. I’d been guided by fear, cornered by it, and held prisoner long before I was locked in a cage. I hadn’t even considered a plan to combat the demonic onslaught. I was too busy avoiding Indy and my hurt feelings to acknowledge the inevitability bearing down on us both.

I missed him. That night at the lookout replayed nonstop in my mind. I must have recited every line of our conversation a hundred times. Revelations that were decades delayed. Admissions that left me more conflicted than ever.

Indy didn’t kill himself. Not on purpose, anyway. Somehow, the drugs helped him remember us and, as much as I wanted to retain a white-knuckled grip on my resentment, I couldn’t blame him. He had lost, perhaps even more than I had, and it turned out he was no better at grieving than I was.

Days dragged on. The other hounds came and wentfrom the training arena, but I was not welcome among them. No one so much as touched the door of my cage; no one spoke to me. It was simultaneously silent and terribly loud, and I spent endless hours curled up with my hands cupped over my ears, whimpering like the dog I was.

I had no way of knowing how much time passed. My limited view consisted of the fire on the opposite wall with its tongues of flame licking against the cobbled stone and Moira and Nero occasionally flitting through, engaged in conversations I strained to overhear.

The hounds were almost ready. The hunt would soon begin.

Whitney must have been on Earth because I didn’t see him. Recalling our near encounter that night in Brooklyn made me shudder. I never got the chance to warn Indy, not that he could do much about the threat on his life but bunker down in the Airstream and hope Sully’s wards would hold. I wasn’t sure what I could have done, either, but certainly more there than here where I was completely and utterly helpless.

Things came to a head when Nero and Moira were making their usual walkthrough but, rather than opening the cages and shooing the hounds toward the arena, they took positions where we could all see and hear them clearly. Moira wore a crimson ballgown with her lips and nails stained to match. Beside her, Nero was bedecked in a suit reminiscent of a military general’s uniform. Brass buttons gleamed up the front of his jacket, and tasseled epaulets crested his broad shoulders.

The demons shared a knowing look. Before either ofthem spoke, dread pumped like ice water through my veins.

Nero moved forward and spread his arms in a grandiose gesture.

“Noble beasts,” he began, “the legendary phoenix, a creature of immense power, roams the mortal realm. You have been prepared for the task of capturing it. Long have we all waited for this moment, but we believe you are ready to undertake the hunt.”

Moira smiled, and the tips of her sharp teeth glinted. She looked so proud, so pompous, while deliberately avoiding my eyes. It was like she knew how personal this was. Like it had nothing to do with Indy, or his sanctifying tears, or the weeks of preparation that had led to this moment. This was Hell, after all, a place rife with torment, and I felt keenly that this was torture made for me.

The hounds yipped and bayed, and the uptick in volume made it clear their muzzles had been removed. Mine remained tightly fastened, silencing me, smothering me. I whined and pulled at it, dragging my nails down my cheeks trying to loosen the material to no avail.

Nero’s voice boomed above the cries. “You, the fiercest of our kind, are entrusted with this sacred mission. Your senses are keen, your strength unparalleled, and your spirits unbreakable. Earth awaits your presence, trembling at the thought of your mighty paws upon its soil.”

With a series of clattering clicks, the kennel doors unlocked. Pushing forward, I found my cage latched tight, and I shoved my shoulder into it, rattling the metal as the hounds around me bolted out of their enclosures. Some rose to standing while others stayed on all fours. Therewere dozens of them. I wasn’t sure I’d ever taken count, but seeing them all emerging to fill the room was staggering.

Whitney and I were different from this lot in many ways. Foremost of which being that when we were sent to hunt, we went alone. The new hounds sectioned themselves into packs of four or five. I saw Abigail among them. When she glanced back at me, near-human sympathy shone in her eyes.

“Hunt with honor!” Nero bellowed. “Hunt with fury and bring back the phoenix. Show the world above the true might of the hellhounds. May the flames of your victory be seen from the highest heavens to the deepest abyss!”

The speech was rousing, and the hounds responded to his call, but I knew he hated them. Hated us. I’d witnessed his disgust at the gala; I’d worn his spit on my shoe. Clearly, he fancied himself a general but, in the ranks of Hell, we were foot soldiers. Cannon fodder. Highly disposable and easily replaced, but trained for this mission. A mission he didn’t bother to explain.

No words were shared about the phoenix’s tears, or purifying corrupted souls, or what was an undeniable power grab for the higher rungs of Hellish society. Dogs weren’t privy to that information. They were thrown a bone and told to fetch. And off they went.

I watched while the mass exodus began. A large male hound, possibly taller than me, led the charge through a gaping portal drawn on the wall.

Moira clapped delightedly while Nero stood aside, bobbing his horned head in wordless approval.

The demons waited until the last runt had scampered off to the mortal plane, then shared a congratulatory smile.

When the portal snapped shut, I lunged against the barred door of my kennel, creating a clattering sound my mistress couldn’t possibly ignore. She glanced back, and her red eyes drew down to slits. But she didn’t approach. Didn’t speak.

Nero took his leave without a word, and Moira trailed after him, abandoning me in the flame-lit room.

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