Page 23 of Tragic Ink
Chapter 8
My heart constrictedwith fear and confusion as the hound led us closer and closer to the edge of town—straight toward Aelwyn’s old Victorian. Rhys didn’t speak a word, but I saw his jaw tense up as we neared. I held my breath when the driveway came into view, but the creature didn’t turn and instead streaked right past, finally turning in almost half a mile later and sprinting straight for the little cottage that belonged to Fred and Betsy, Aelwyn’s closest neighbors. Very human neighbors—which meant they didn’t stand a chance against something like ahellhound.
“Shit,” Rhys swore as we pulled to a quick stop in theiryard.
I didn’t answer. The hound had already disappeared inside, passing straight through the closed front door. I jumped out of the truck and sprinted across the yard in pursuit. Rhys was right besideme.
Fred and Betsy were retired. No kids. Not a very active social life. Fred liked to garden. Betsy liked to can. They made preserves for us every Christmas, but that was about as far as my knowledge of them went. If they were in danger now because of some tattoo I’ddone—
A hand on my arm yanked me sideways. I let Rhys drag me along, surprised by his strength, until we were both tucked around the corner of thehouse.
“What the hell are you doing?” he whispered. “You can’t just march in there. If that hellhound is being used for somethingviolent—”
“It’s my creation, Rhys. My fault. If they’re in there, I have to helpthem.”
“Fine, but be smart about it.” He pulled a knife from somewhere inside his coat. Its pointed tip gleamed in the dimlight.
Silently, I eyed it, then him, and he blew out a breath. “I go first,” hesaid.
I nodded, ignoring the flashback to three years ago. Another night. Another husband and wife. A heart squeezed and squeezed until it just stopped. Tonight’s spell might be even worse, considering the sharp teeth on the monster inthere.
Rhys crept toward the door, and I stayed close, listening and watching as a light breeze ruffled through the bare branches overhead. It was cold, but it was still—the kind of stillness that always seemed to accompany a freeze. It was also the kind of stillness that made every little noise sound even louder. I forced my breathing to go quiet, taking in a long, deep breath to help steady mypulse.
Ahead of me, Rhys climbed the steps and tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand. The door swung open. I held my breath, still close on his heels as we crept silently inside. A rustling sounded from somewhere in the back. Rhys adjusted direction and headed towardit.
On my arm, Ethan stirred. I was about to let him loose when something squished underneath myboot.
I looked down and cringed at the pool of blood. No, not a pool. A trail. I followed it with my eyes until it disappeared around the corner of the kitchen. Not the kitchen again. Rhys and I exchanged a glance. Somehow he managed to look both concerned for me and violent at the same time. My chest ached for him, but I ignored it and instead focused on the magic that was tugging at me. The magic I’d created and that had called me heretonight.
With slow steps, we made our way around the corner and into the tiny galley kitchen. I stared at the blood on the floor inconfusion.
“There’s no one here,” I saidfinally.
Rhys bent low, studying the pool of blood more closely now. I stepped around him, caught up in the scene before me as I edged closer and closer. Beside me, Rhys was careful not to touch anything, but by the time I remembered to pay attention, my boots had already wandered too close. When I backed away, I left a set of bloody prints in mywake.
“Damn it,” Imuttered.
The rustling came again, this time from just outside the backdoor.
Rhys jumped up, brandishing the knife as he leapt clear of the pooled blood and threw open the back door. I made the same jump, peering around his shoulder just in time to see the two hellhounds merge into one another and become a single solidform.
The hound looked up from where it had bent low over a pile of leaves on one side of the yard, its snout and jaw covered in blood. Fangs protruded from its open mouth, and yellow eyes glowed as it glared down at whatever lay before it. Black fur covered its giant body, and long claws extended from its huge paws. When it spotted us, it gave a sharp howl and then turned for thewoods.
I hissed, knowing we were about to lose it for good. Rhys fumbled in his jacket, hopefully for a weapon, but we were out of time. Without stopping to think, I let Ethan peel himself free through the layers of my clothes and coat. He tore free from my skin faster than he’d ever done before, and with a single flap of his powerful wings, he swooped across the yard and dug his claws into the hind parts of the four-legged creature. The hellhound cried out and tried twisting away, but Ethan held fast, and they both jerked sideways as Ethan pecked and clawed at thething.
I looked back to where the hound had been crouching. Two forms lay half-covered in leaves. I peered closer, unsure of what I was seeing, but after willing my eyes to adjust to the darkness, two faces came into focus. Wrinkled with age and coated in blood, Fred and Betsy stared upward, both of their stark expressions frozen in lifeless terror. I let out a strangled gasp and took a step toward them, but Rhys stopped me with a hand around mywaist.
“I see them,” I choked, desperation clawing its way up my throat. “I have tohelp.”
“It’s too late,” he said in a roughvoice.
In the distance, a sirenwailed.
Rhys and I locked eyes. “Motherfu—” Rhysbegan.
Ethan screechedsharply.
I swung my gaze back to him as he went flailing and hit the ground several feet away from the hound. I sucked in a sharp breath, every single thought vanishing at the sight of my familiar in danger. I wrenched free from Rhys and ran for my hawk, kicking up a spray of mud in my wake. I was vaguely aware of the hound’s howl and its new track—aimed right for me. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop. I had to save Ethan no matter what elsehappened.
