Page 19 of Junkyard Dog

With a snort, he pulled his phone away from his ear and looked down at it. “You’re kidding, right?” He flopped onto his sofa. “So has Hades checked in with you lately?”

“Why the hell would he?” Ryan asked, his voice cutting in and out. “He hates coming topside.”

He leaned his head back and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Just curious. I’ll call in a few days with an update.”

He had to get back to work.

Bouncing between the underworld and topside life was taking its toll on all of them, the last remnants of the elusive Pirithous line forcing them back up every few decades, forcing them to settle back into an ever-changing human world while they followed scents and leads throughout the continents.

Every time, it became harder. Technology eliminated the freedom they once had to roam and settle at will. Computerized identification that hadn’t existed thirty years prior, smartphones, even the existence of the internet had been in its infancy the last time the brothers had ventured into the human world.

Hunts that once took days or weeks topside now took months or years, the diluted line in its final death throes.

It had been the hunt for this particularly evasive Pirithous descendant that brought Alex to the Coachella Valley.The last of the male line, Hades’s seer had hissed hours before the brothers found themselves in a Colorado field less than a year ago, wearing clothes that had gone out of style in 1989.

Shoving his keys into his back pocket and tossing his backpack over his shoulder, he strode out the door to make the most of the remaining night hours.

*

Charlotte hauled thedog food out of her work truck and dumped some into the new bowl she’d picked up on her way to the park. With her offering in hand, she slipped a large black collar over her wrist and walked cautiously through the brush and set the food in a clear patch. “Dinner’s served,” she called into the dawn light, disappointment settling in when not even the howl of a coyote answered back.

Her radio buzzed to life, Max’s voice crackled with the poor reception. “Clocked you out, Chuck. Location?”

She jogged back to the truck and lifted the handpiece. “The Keys,” she said, her eyes on the ridge to her left. “I’ll head out of here in an hour or so.”

“Text me when you get home,” he replied before the line went silent.

Crawling onto the hood of the vehicle, she took off her hat and badge, undid the top three buttons of her work shirt, and hiked the neckline of her tank top up as she reclined back against the windshield. “Here, puppy, puppy, puppy,” she called out halfheartedly, loosening the laces of her boots and freezing when a soft bark answered her.

She sat up and watched as the huge beast descended the ridge toward her, his head low and ears alert. In the sunlight, the deep blackness of his long fur was amplified against the beige of the landscape, his immense size more pronounced when he wasn’t blending into the night sky. “Hey, boy,” she whispered, easing her legs over the side of the truck. “Hungry?”

He stopped a good fifty yards away and sat, turning his nose up at the bowl.

“What?” she asked with feigned offense. “You don’t like my cooking?”

The animal huffed and rose to his feet, his hackles rising as he approached the food. He sniffed the bowl, blowing out what she could only think of as a resigned breath.

“Go on,” she encouraged. “I know it’s not a fuzzy little bunny, but it’s good for you.”

She leaned forward in anticipation as the dog’s huge head dropped and he buried his nose into the bowl.

“Awwww, you’re such a good boy.”

*

Alex fought backagainst his gag reflex, forcing the last of the kibble down.

Fucking. Humiliating.

He sat back and used his paw to brush the crumbs from his snout.

Bo can never know about this. Ever.

He’d lasted two nights without seeing Charlotte, work obligations for both of them demanding he remain content with intermittent texts and quick phone calls.

It wasn’t enough.

“Still hungry?” she called over to him, waving the nasty green bag his way.

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