Page 27 of Hounded

“No.”

But they were buried near here. My father and mother made the journey to America to die in disease-ridden tenement housing. I avoided a similar fate by catching the interest of a well-to-do law student who wanted someone to warm his bed. Falling into Moira’s favor had happened much the same way: by surprise and for reasons I couldn’t entirely control.

“Do I already know this stuff?” Indy spun toward mewith his hand propped on his hip. “I mean, did I? I don’t know if they told you what happened, but I kinda… fried my brain. With the drugs.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral. I hadn’t been updated about what happened after I dropped Indy off at Hopeful Horizons. They must have assumed the overdose caused his memory loss because there was no better justification.

“They told me,” I lied.

We made it to the front of the store where Indy raided the checkout lane for chewing gum and a bottle of soda. At the end of a short line of customers, he stopped and faced me again.

“It’s weird,” he said. “Like… I know I had a life before, but it almost feels like I woke up in rehab. Or maybe I’m asleep and dreaming now. It’s hard to explain.”

I hung at his heels, comparing this conversation to others we’d had in the past. I’d tried a dozen ways of welcoming him back to the world. Full transparency yielded skepticism or fear. I insisted on our relationship once or twice, assuring him we loved each other and always would, but it felt forced, and fake, and it filled me with doubt.

Indy took the shopping basket and hefted it onto the conveyor belt. When it came his turn, rather than advancing toward the cashier, he rounded on me with his features pinched.

“You know there’s only one phone number in my contacts?” he asked. “Yours. That’s either a real sad commentary on my life, or I’m missing something.”

I stood, stricken. The intermittent beep of items beingscanned seemed to mark the seconds dragging by.

This never got easier, and I wasn’t sure it was right to keep secrets from him. But him blaming the drugs for his predicament was an unexpected blessing. Maybe he would stay clean this time.

When I didn’t reply, Indy shook his head, sweeping curls across his brow. “I’m missing everything, I guess. It’s my own fault.”

He spun away and flashed a sunny smile at the checker. Their small talk reduced to a drone in the back of my mind while I gazed out the windowed storefront. People passed in singles or pairs, but one man stood still. I wasn’t used to seeing him in casual clothes, and I wondered if the trousers and V-neck Henley were more his style than the suits and skimpy garments Moira so often dressed him in. Even though his outfit had thrown me, his sandy hair and verdant eyes made him unmistakable.

Whitney.

My heart seized in my chest, and I didn’t breathe except to cough, drawing Indy’s attention briefly from his conversation with the checker.

I pointed to the door, away from the hellhound now peering through the window.

“Wait,” I told Indy, gulping down the nerves that tried to silence me. “Wait here.”

“Why?” He frowned, but further argument was squelched by the cashier announcing his total.

I put my supernatural speed to use as I rushed out of the store. On the sidewalk, I turned and found Whitney a dozen feet away, looking right back at me.

No need to wonder why he was here. I’d brought this on myself. Moira didn’t need to harass me with calls or texts. She could send her favorite pet to do it for her.

I swallowed again, then once more, unsure of where to go, or what to say or do. How long could I trust Indy to stay inside? And, if he came out here, how would I explain him to Whitney?

The other hound strode forward, and I poised to run. We would make quite a spectacle racing down the street, but I would draw the attention of everyone in Brooklyn if it would lead this threat away from my phoenix.

Before I could bolt or even decide which direction to go, Whitney spoke.

“You’re surprised?” he asked, then shook his head. “You shouldn’t be.”

My mouth opened and closed so many times I must have looked like a fish blowing bubbles. Whitney didn’t venture to Earth often since I did most of the retrieval work. I expected him to be unsettled by the flurry of activity going on around us. Between the constant rumbles and honks of passing cars and the pedestrians weaving by,myattention was certainly divided, but he remained focused.

“What’s Miss to think of you trotting off?” he demanded. “What should I tell her? You don’t even have hunting as an excuse this time.”

What excusedidI have? I’d carried on in my secret life for so long without interruption, without notice, and while I’d considered what I would say if I was ever called into question, those thoughts escaped me now.

“I like to…” I tugged on my collar. “Familiarize myself. With the city. With people…”

Whitney tracked my nervous gesture but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he cast a sweeping glance around us. “What sorts of people?”

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