Hellhound

Pryce kicked the sword away.

“Not here, cousin. Not now. I thought Limbo would be a good place for a truce. Allow us both some breathing room.”

“I didn’t agree to a truce.”

“Not in so many words. But notice how you were unable to strike me. That’s new, isn’t it? My bond with Difethwr is good for that much, anyway. The Hellion has grown strong enough in me that you cannot raise your marked arm against me, just as you cannot raise it against the demon that marked it.”

Was he telling the truth? I tried to flex my fingers. Limp, they wouldn’t obey. But we were in Limbo, and the rules were different here. Pryce’s claim might be a trick to make me believe I could no longer fight him.

Whether or not that was true in the real world, I couldn’t fight him here.

“Where’s Tina?” I demanded.

“I haven’t given her to the Morfran yet, if that’s what you’re asking. But she’s unimportant.”

“Not to me, she isn’t. Let her go.”

Pryce kept talking as though I hadn’t spoken. “What’s important is what happened this afternoon. Tell me, cousin, what did happen?”

His question stabbed into my mind but didn’t illuminate a damn thing. I stared into the flames, trying to make them into images, shape them into memories.

“You don’t remember, do you? Well, you were in an exquisite killing frenzy. It must have felt like a trance. Difethwr was quite proud.”

The tingling in my demon mark felt like a confirmation. I said nothing.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Pryce continued, “but at last it’s happened.”

I wasn’t going to take his bait. I would not ask him what had happened. I didn’t want to hear it—not from Pryce. I kept feeling around inside my mind, looking for the truth. But it was like that truth was locked away in a place I couldn’t reach.

Pryce sighed. “So that’s how you’re going to be, is it? Very well. I could describe today’s events to you, but you’d think I was lying. However, you cannot deny the truth of your feelings. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? How the Destroyer’s grip on you has strengthened. How small annoyances set off an anger that mushrooms into rage. And that rage—it’s been harder to control, hasn’t it? There have even been times when, perhaps just for a moment or two, you haven’t wanted to control it.” I stared at the flames, unable to reply. Pryce’s voice, low and insinuating, buzzed in my ear. “When you thought how good it would feel to give in and destroy. The cause didn’t matter. Everything was in the release. The crushing, the utter destruction. You’ve wanted that, cousin—and know it.”

The flames parted like a curtain, and I was back in that hallway. The bodies on the floor. The screams and clashing of swords. The excitement heating my veins. Then each flame became an image, those flashes of memory I couldn’t fit together. A spurt of blood. A wound gaping. Light flashing off a blade. A mouth contorted in pain. A bloody hand, its fingers going slack around a hilt. I closed my eyes, willing away both the images and the excitement they called up in me.

Pryce’s voice whispered, close. “This afternoon, you got what you wanted. You finally gave in.”

A grunt of pain. Blood spilling on a concrete floor.

“You stormed into that room like the spirit of Death itself. You didn’t care who or what you killed. You wanted only to destroy. And you did.”

That sweet moment of triumph when flesh gave way to steel.

“The entire SWAT team is dead. Much of that is your doing. We lost some on our side, too—again, largely thanks to you. You were the Destroyer, finally and completely possessed.”

I recalled the voice I’d heard, probing at my consciousness. Could it have been Difethwr? The Destroyer taking control, directing me, egging me on. I could hear those burbling echoes, but the words still eluded me. No. I wouldn’t believe it. The Destroyer had touched me, but my will was my own. Always.

I shook off the images that crowded me and stared squarely into the black holes of Pryce’s eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Didn’t I tell you? I knew you’d say that. Well, I won’t waste my breath attempting to convince you. The truth is in your bones now, cousin. It’s in your blood. It’s in your soul. When you accept that you belong to the Destroyer—and, through the Hellion, to me—your memories will return.” He passed his hand over the flames, and again I stood in a doorway, my sword raised, watching a struggling mass. All I wanted was to throw myself in. My heart surged, and then the image winked out.

In its place was Pryce’s smile. “I can help you,” he said. Insidious words from a demi-demon. “Come with me now. Not to the Ordinary, where nothing but trouble awaits you. We’ll go to my realm. Difethwr waits for you there. In Uffern, you can train to work with your Hellion master, stop fighting against what you’ve become. And after you’ve learned to serve that . . . thing, you’ll be fit to serve me.” He gripped my arm. “It’s your destiny.”

I yanked my arm away. “I’ve told you before, Pryce. I will never join your side.”

He looked at me for a long time, then shook his head. “This stubbornness of yours is so tiresome.” He waved a dismissive hand. “At least I won’t have to endure it much longer. You will join me, and you’ll be glad to do so. But I don’t have to talk myself silly attempting to convince you. You’ll convince yourself, from the inside. Your feelings already know.”

Out in the real world, a siren wailed. Another joined it. The sound was muffled, but louder than any outside noises that had so far made their way into Limbo.

“Those sirens are coming for you,” Pryce said in his bored voice. “In the Ordinary, you’ll be arrested for murder. If you had agreed to return with me to Uffern, you’d be beyond their reach. But I’ve withdrawn my offer for the moment.” His eyes, already impossibly black, somehow darkened. “You must understand where your true loyalties lie. Call me when you tire of languishing in a human prison.”

The fire flared up, and the homeless man laughed and stared at the flames. Again the fire flared. I stood in the middle of a semidark room, gripping my sword. Bodies lay everywhere. Blood covered the floor.

I was the only living creature there.

34

TIRES SCREECHED. A BULLHORN ANNOUNCED THE ARRIVAL of the police. Shit. They’d be on top of me in moments. I stood in a room filled with dead bodies, with a bloody sword in my hand and no memory of what happened. They’d arrest me for sure. If they didn’t shoot me on sight.

I had to be out of here before cops stormed the place, and there was only one way to do that. I threw aside my sword and prepared to shift.

To what? What creature could get me out of here?

Feral cats. Mrs. Sal’s complaint about the pests that had taken over the neighborhood waved like a banner in my mind. A wild cat could slink past the cops. And it would pass unnoticed through the streets.

“This is the police. The building is surrounded.”

I thought of gray fur and whiskers. Sharp teeth. A long tail.

“Throw down any weapons and come to the door with your hands on your head.”

Claws. Glowing eyes with slitted pupils. Muscles tensed to pounce.

Footfalls pounded, inside. Coming down the hall.

The energy built. Sounds sharpened as my ears changed shape, slid to the top of my head. My skull contracted, my field of vision widened. Smells, so many smells.

The bullhorn droned, but its words blurred together into mere sound.

My arms lengthened, nails sharpening into claws. The energy built some more. Whiskers sprouted, sensing the movements of air currents. Energy, more and more, getting stronger. Fur covered me. Then the energy blasted out, and I changed.

BLOOD. HUNGRY. WANT TO TASTE IT. WAIT—LISTEN. LOUD noises, angry noises. Coming fast. Trouble—angry sounds mean trouble.

I spring. Legs running as paws hit ground. I run, fast, away from angry sounds.

Dark place ahead, good for hiding. I run into darkness. Slow, stop. Creep away from noisy humans. Be quiet. Stay close to wall. Stay quiet. Hunger rumbles in my belly. My tongue wants the taste of blood.

What was that sound?

Too much noise. Too dangerous.

A doorway. Silent, I creep through. Dust here. Old smells, stale. No food.

Blood smell pulls me back. Hungry. I turn, watch. Stay low. Creep. Cautious.

Noisy humans stomp through the blood room. Too many. Too loud. Can’t get near the blood.

Need to go. Run away. Find food.

My side touching the wall, I creep. Stay in shadows. A window lets in light. Open. I wait, watch. Crouching, ready.

Now.

I run to the light. Jump. Up, over, out. I run, ground hard under paws. Air fresher, clearer. I run from noisy humans.

Quieter now. Slowing down. Hungry. Food. Want food.

I stop, lift my nose. Sniff.

Over there, a movement. Pigeon pecks in the dirt.

Pigeon unaware. I crouch. I’ll catch it, eat it.

I crouch, tense. Legs tight, ready to spring. I watch. Creep forward. Watch. Creep. Crouch lower. Tense, trembling. Watch . . . watch . . . spring!

Claws grab nothing. Pigeon above, in tree.

Hungry.

I sniff again. Where is food?

For a long time I hunt. On grass. In wide streets. On narrow streets. Other cats hiss, “Get away!” Sometimes I fight. Sometimes I run. Always, hunger rumbles.

Light dims. Hunger pinches me. Trotting, sniffing for food smells. I turn into narrow street, behind human dwellings. Sometimes food is here. Noises come from buildings. Food smells come from open window. I stop, sniff. Want food.

A door opens. Yellow light spills out. I freeze. A human watches me.

Run? But food smells hold me.

“Here, kitty.” Hand stretches out, stops. Waits. “Do you want some milk?

I step toward human. Wait. Step, step, step. Stop. Safe? Danger? More steps. Stop again. I lift my nose, stretch forward. Legs tense, ready to run. I sniff. Human scent. Soap. And more. Warm, milky smell. Good. Want to taste.