Page 8 of Hounded

After a long pause, I gave a halting reply, “I’ve been… distracted.”

“With what?” Whitney asked.

I’d gone days without leaving the trailer, without moving from the couch that was too short for my long legs. Hours had been spent scrolling through the photos on my phone, the only mementos I allowed myself to keep. Indy loved taking pictures. He made it his mission to tease smiles out of me, then capture them while bragging about how “goddamn gorgeous” I was. I didn’t care too much for the compliments, but I did enjoy his wide, enthusiastic grins. And his laughter… I pressed my hand over my pocket as though I could absorb the memories.

When I didn’t respond, Whitney filled the silence. “You’ll need a better excuse than that when Miss comes asking.” His words conveyed a clear warning.

“I’ll find the cop,” I assured him. “Soon.”

A huffed breath swelled Whitney’s bare chest as he surveyed the crowd once more. Moira had yet to check on us, too consumed with the slew of demons handing over future hellhounds. I didn’t know how many contracts she expected to gain from this, but the growing stack of parchment in her hands was impressive.

My palm remained over my slacks pocket, and I used my fingers to work my cellphone out into my hand. A click of the power button flashed the analog clock. 11:31 AM.

I nudged Whitney with my elbow, and he cut a glanceat me.

“How long is this supposed to last?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Till it’s over, I suppose.”

I toyed with the chain draped across my belly. I’d seen people in Manhattan secure their pets similarly while patio dining or stepping into a store that didn’t allow animals. After a century of such treatment, it shouldn’t have rankled me. It usually didn’t, but today…

My hound’s ears pricked at the sound of Moira’s voice rising above the general din. My mistress approached with an unknown demon in tow. He was buttoned up in a cummerbund and a tailed jacket that strained across his barrel chest. His skin had an ashen sheen, and his teeth were like rows of knives as he smiled.

Whitney stood, testing the length of his chain leash to its limit. I remained in my seat, awaiting Moira’s command. She gave none, instead adjusting the stack of papers in her arms while batting her eyes at the male demon.

“Karst, was it?” she asked with a smile. “You said you were interested in a hound of your own?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The male demon nodded. “I was thinking of something to keep me company. Maybe fetch things from Earth from time to time.”

Moira shifted her papers and laid her free hand on Karst’s shoulder. “Don’t think so small. My hounds are capable of much more than running errands or warming your bed. They’re cruel creatures, you know. Hunters. Killers.”

Karst cast an assessing glance at Whitney and me.

“Consider these two a preview of the finishedproduct,” Moira told him. “Though I will gladly build to suit.”

She beckoned me to stand. When I did so, the leash pulled taut and held my head low with a sort of deference I immediately resented.

The ashy demon rounded the table, sniffing the air as he drew near. When he came into range of me, his red eyes panned wide. “They’re humans.”

Moira nodded. “Theywere, but I think you’ll see they are much more than that now.”

For a long moment, Karst looked me up and down with tentative intrigue. Finally, he reached out. His hand hovered inches from my nose.

“May I?” he asked Moira.

Despite the vagueness of his request, she seemed to understand and waved him on.

Stepping closer, Karst grabbed the sides of my face. His clawed fingers pricked my skin as he turned my head from side to side. Every muscle in my body tensed as I tried to keep my expression stony and set.

Holding me by the chin, Karst paused and glanced at Moira. “Do they bite?”

She smiled. “Only when I tell them to.”

The demon laughed, blowing hot, sour breath straight up my nose. Without hesitation, he pinched my upper lip between his sharp nails and peeled it back. Perhaps he was looking for fangs like his own. If so, my innocuous-looking canines must have been a disappointment.

Releasing my lip, his hand roamed lower, taking hold of my collar and pulling until the chain noosed around my throat.

I swallowed protest while my mind screamed. Thoughts of running or rebellion became so loud I could consider nothing else, but I managed not to retreat until Karst gave an approving grunt.

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