Infernal Hunt Complete Set

by Holly Evans

  The other hound opened his arms wide and grinned, "Marrok Lysander, you will finally make our master proud, as the final sacrifice. A fitting ending for a pathetic runt such as you."

  Lysander snarled, but held firm a good dozen feet away from him. Quin looked at me from my left near the small road that passed around the edge of the square. I held my hand up. This was Lysander's fight, we wouldn't interfere if we didn't need to. Still, I pulled my blades and edged closer; there was too much at stake to watch entirely unprepared. Elise came up on my right; Kadrix wasn't far behind her. The three hunters came from Celetná, the narrow street filled with tourist shops and boutiques. We slowly edged forwards, enclosing the hounds and forming a circle. Lysander held the other hound's eye; this was his fight, but we would end it if we needed to. A glance around told me that everyone had drawn their weapon of choice. It was down to my hound now.

  An unspoken cue passed between the two hounds. The other launched himself at Lysander, his arms outstretched and teeth bared. It was a terrifying sight filled with pure malice and murderous intent. I gripped my blades tighter and hoped Lysander was worth my faith.

  Lysander side-stepped the clumsy pounce with ease, but the other hound was prepared for his swift punch. Lysander's fist hit thin air, and the other hound landed on his feet just behind Lysander. I gripped my blades tighter, willing it to be over quickly. The other hound smashed his fist into Lysander's shoulder, forcing him to step forwards and lose his balance. He recovered quickly, turning on his heel and slamming his fist into the other hound's jaw. They moved incredibly quickly, their motions almost a blur to my eye. The other hound was relentless and aggressive, constantly pushing forwards and swinging his fists at Lysander. Lysander, however, blocked the blows with apparent ease and bided his time, carefully timing punches and kicks to the other hound's weak spots, causing him to snarl and snap at Lysander's face.

  The other hound jumped back and shifted into his hound, a heavily muscled form with bright red eyes. Lysander followed suit. He snarled when the other hound sank his teeth into his haunch mid-shift. They were on each other in barely the blink of an eye. Teeth snapping on thin air, claws raking through coarse fur. They growled and snarled, rolling around on the ground. The other hound yowled when Lysander wrapped his jaw around his lower foreleg and snapped the bone, the crunch audible from where I stood. Blood trickled over Lysander's lips and coated his chin. The other hound kicked out, trying to get Lysander off him and put some space between them. Lysander yelped when the other hound tore a chunk out of his shoulder; it was enough for the other hound to give himself the room he needed.

  He shifted back into his human form, his hand a limp mess that hung at the end of a ragged bloody arm. Lysander circled around him, still in his hound form. The other hound caught fire. I was momentarily blinded by the intense light. Lysander snapped at his thighs, but the other hound was too quick and kicked Lysander in the head, sending him flying a few feet. He landed with a heavy thud. I wanted to run to him, but he scrambled to his feet and shifted into his human form. Flame rippled over his body. Rage flooded my mind; bloodlust tinged my own thoughts.

  The other hound was growing desperate. As Lysander circled around him, he tore off his useless hand, leaving a bloody stump. Matyas jumped back when the hand landed near his feet, a charred mess. The other hound pushed hard, lashing out at Lysander with everything he had. A forward kick, quickly followed by a right hook, none of which connected. Lysander danced around him, taunting him. The other hound's anger and desperation made his movements clumsy. He charged at Lysander, who stepped away at the last second. He grabbed the other hound's head and drove his face down onto his knee. The hound barely had a chance to growl before Lysander slammed his fist into the back of his neck. He swept his legs from under him and stamped down on his lower back, driving him into the floor where he stamped on the back of his head, twice. All that was left was a red mess.

  The relief of victory didn't come. Instead, Elise screamed and dropped to her knees. Kadrix was close behind her. The air became heavy, the ground vibrated; something was wrong. So very wrong.

  "The ritual was completed," Elise screamed.

  I didn't understand. It dawned on me as I ran to Elise. The sacrifice would be of fire. The final needed to be a hellhound, it didn't matter which one. How had we missed it? There had been no marks on the ground. I pulled Elise tight to me and stroked her hair trying to soothe her.

  She wept onto my shoulder. "The hellmouth will open at sunrise. Oh, Evie. What have we done?"

  "We didn't know. We'll fix this."

  She took a long deep breath and composed herself. "Go to Lysander. I will speak to my contacts."

  I ran my hand over her hair once more before I released her. "We'll fix this, Elise."

  She gave me a small smile. "We will. My lady wouldn't have it any other way."

  Lysander was knelt near the body of the other hound, tears tumbled down his cheeks. I approached him slowly and knelt next to him, taking his hand in mine. I slipped my hand around his cheek, hooking my fingers under his jaw and pulled his face to look at me.

  "You didn't know," I said quietly but firmly.

  His eyes glistened with more unshed tears. "I failed you, mistress."

  I took a deep breath and pulled him to me. "You didn't, but you are going to help us fix this."

  "Whatever it takes, mistress. I promise. I can't lose this. I can't lose you."

  "I know. I know," I whispered.

  I ran my thumb along his cheekbone wiping away the last of his tears. Seeing such a strong predator crying, after the fight I'd witnessed only minutes ago, was surreal. I kissed between his eyes.

  "You will make me proud. Now. Pull yourself together."

  His mouth flickered with a smile. "Yes, mistress."

  We stood together and walked to Kadrix and Quin; the hunters didn't dare approach.

  "Is he ok?" I asked Quin.

  He nodded. "He felt it, the shift in the energies. He's recovering."

  Quin put his arm around Kadrix's waist and allowed the elf to lean on him while his colour returned. My head was reeling. We had mere hours to prepare for hell on Earth. How did we even prepare for that? I'd read about demons in books, but I hadn't seen more than two in my life, and they had been relatively low level. I knew that they were formed of fire and darkness; they required weapons of water and light to defeat them. I hoped that Kadrix had prepared for this better than we had.

  After a few minutes, the hunters slowly walked over; they kept looking between Kadrix and Lysander.

  Matyas said, "What do we do now?"

  Quin said, "You gather everyone you can and meet us at the castle before sunrise. Tell them we're fighting demons."

  They paled, but said nothing. They glanced between each other, mouths agape.

  "Run! Time is ticking, you fuckwits!" I shouted.

  They did so. They ran. I hoped they'd run quickly enough, although I doubted there was anything to be done. The fate of the city rested firmly on our shoulders, and Elise. Poor precious Elise.

  Azfin and Haeyl had arrived not long after the hunters had run. They swept us up in the back of a large black car. Kadrix leant on Quin, his breathing shallow; concern was etched on Quin's face as he tenderly stroked the elf's back. Lysander looked out the window and refused to speak; I allowed him his time to brood and replay the fight and mistakes in his mind. The Sidhe explained that Kadrix felt the shift more keenly because he had connected himself to the city to aid in his alchemy and the hunt for the other hound. I fought against the sensation of being lost, of facing the mountainous task before us alone. Kadrix was so frail; logically, I knew that he would recover, but seeing him that way was frightening. We were deposited at Kadrix's workshop, our home away from home. The Sidhe left us, saying they were gathering allies and they would be there at the castle before sunrise.

  Lysander tried to slip away into the darkness; I grabbed his hand and pulled him close to me. "There's much l
eft to be done, hound, and you're not doing it alone."

  The flicker of a smile passed over his lips. "Yes, mistress."

  Every light and candle in the workshop lit with a small wave of Kadrix's hand; he stood a little taller and took in a deep breath before he marched to the centre of the chaos.

  "There is much to be done; first, the hound must be repaired,” he said.

  "He is not an object to be repaired," I said sharply.

  He waved his hand at me, brushing aside my concerns. I looked at Lysander in the full light of the workshop, and my heart paused for a moment. His shirt was covered in blood. A small dent could be seen in his shoulder where the other hound had torn a chunk out of it, his jeans were drenched in blood from the bites and claw-inflicted wounds. He refused to raise his eyes to look at me. Kadrix went to push me aside with small copper bowls of green mush in his hands. I stood my ground.

  "No. He is my hound. I will care for him," I said.

  Kadrix muttered something about mating rituals and placed the bowls down on top of a lurid pink-bound book.

  "Wash the blood away with the golden coloured water, then apply the green paste. His own healing ability will do the rest."

  He walked back to Quin and started leafing through books; I returned my attention to Lysander. "Strip down to your boxers, those clothes are useless now anyway."

  His movements were stiffer than usual, lacking the usual grace or eagerness to fulfil such a command. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the state of him. His torso was coated in blood, deep scratches cut into his muscle. His shoulder was a lumpy mess, but it had already begun healing. I dipped the soft white cloth in the golden water and started at the top, gently wiping away the sticky blood to reveal the damage that had been done. He slowly relaxed under my touch. His breathing became slower and deeper. His back was a mess of razor-thin white scars and fresh red wounds. The desire to wrap him up and keep him safe from the world, to wash away his past, grew with each touch.

  Once I had applied the paste to every wound, his shoulder was beginning to regrow the skin and the shallower of the cuts were faint pink lines. The elf had said no new scars would be left. I trailed my fingers over his jawline, his head still hanging low.

  I pulled his head down to my shoulder and kissed his cheek before I whispered, "Never again. You're mine now."

  He nuzzled against my neck in response and took a deep breath, holding himself taller when he pulled back. He carefully stretched out his muscles and I stepped away, leaving him to his recovery.

  Kadrix had deposited fresh jeans and shirt on a stool behind me. "He's a hellhound, he's going to destroy clothes. It was logical to keep spares here."

  The elf looked much more himself. He and Quin were leaning over a bench with sets of tweezers, applying something very small to something glowing white. I was torn between comforting Lysander, making sure he healed properly, and investigating what they were doing.

  Kadrix made the decision for me when he grinned and said, "They are complete. Evelyn, come here, we don't have much time."

  I nodded from Lysander to the clothes, the last thing I needed was him getting a chill. I wove my way between the benches and heaps of things to Kadrix, who looked very pleased with himself. His eyes shone and the grin consumed the lower half of his face. He pulled Quin into a deep kiss.

  I curled my lip and looked away before I said, "Are you sure now is the time for mating rituals? I can't say I'm quite as interested in elf rituals as you are hellhound ones..."

  Kadrix laughed; Quin turned a bright pink. The elf carefully picked up a peculiarly shaped white blade from the bench. It was wider in the middle and narrowed into a sharp point, almost like a feather.

  "This, dear Evelyn, is my gift to you and Quin. I have devoted three years to making these, and none are more fitting recipients than you two."

  "Thank you, but I have perfectly good blades that I have practised with."

  Kadrix laughed at me. "Evelyn, you silly little girl. These are made from celestial feathers. These are the only blades of this type in existence. I have made three, two for you, and one for Quin. Now come here, they need to meld to you."

  Melding to me sounded like a painful experience; I wasn't convinced that I liked the images that sprung to mind. Kadrix huffed and took Quin's right hand. He placed the longest of the blade’s hilt in the palm of his hand. It looked to be about as long as a katana. The entire thing glowed white, silver threads formed over Quin's hand. He grinned and flexed his fingers around the hilt before he slowly swung it, getting the feel of it. His grin widened.

  "Evie, you'll love it," Quin said, excitement woven into every syllable.

  We had little time for arguments. I had no choice but to trust the elf. I knew very little about celestials, but they were the counter to demons. It wasn’t a huge leap, in my mind, to think that a weapon made from a celestial would harm demons. I walked around Quin and held out my hands, palm up. Kadrix placed a blade in each, a pair of short swords formed from the feathers of celestials themselves. A cool peace consumed me; the silver threads vibrated and sank into my skin. I slowly spun the blades, feeling them slice through the air. They were as light as my daggers, but their sharpness was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Kadrix pointed at a lump of wood that sat on a stool against the back wall. I cut at the wood, expecting it to sink in a couple of inches. It went straight through the foot-wide stump as though it were cutting butter. My eyes went wide. We might have a chance against the demons, after all.

  "They will inflict great damage on infernal creatures, but they're no better than normal weapons against everything else." Kadrix glanced at Lysander. "Your bond with the hound will keep him safe, the blades will not harm him."

  I got used to the feel of them in my hands and moved them through the air. They felt like extensions of myself; I'd never experienced anything like it before. Kadrix handed me a belt with two sheathes on it. I had to admit that I was a little disappointed to put the blades away, but we had to focus. The belt was a perfect fit, the sheathes sat on my hips and secured to my thighs so they didn't get in the way. The elf opened a box and revealed two blood-red kris blades, his tongue flicking out over his lips. Lysander walked up behind me, his hand brushing over my lower back.

  Kadrix grinned and said, "Do not fear, hound, you have weapons, too."

  I eyed the kris with suspicion. The elf smirked at me, "Oh, Evelyn, you really must open your mind. These are why I took two hairs from your hound. Now, these are a rather special creation; where your blades are celestial, these are imbued with demon blood and phoenix essence. Where yours are the opposite, these beautiful creations will overwhelm the very essence of the recipient and tear them in two at the very base level."

  He handed me the box. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your little mating dance, place the blades in his hands."

  I ignored the taunting tone. Lysander held his hands out towards me, palm up; his eyes danced with excitement.

  Kadrix cleared his throat and said, “One last little thing. Due to the nature of those blades, they must be blood bound. Once they are, you will able to summon them with your blood."

  I glared at the elf.

  Lysander gave a small nod. "I understand."

  We had no choice in the matter. Any misgivings I may have had about the nature of these blades had to be put aside. The kris were warm to the touch; they rippled with fire, I could feel their desire to do and be more.

  Kadrix handed Lysander a small, delicate blade. "Slice open your palms, not too deep."

  The hound did so without a second thought. Blood welled up from the neat cuts from thumb to finger, directly across the centre of his palms. I placed the hilts of the blades onto the warm blood. Garnet red threads wrapped around Lysander's hands in response. He grinned and danced through the workshop spinning the blades much like a ballet dancer, his usual grace fully returned.

  "Thank you, Kadrix,” he said gleefully.

  The elf shrugged.
"You’re a war dog, a marrok, a creature of your standing should have suitable weapons."

  I narrowed my eyes and looked between them. "And what exactly is a marrok?"

  Lysander's nostrils flared; the glee slipped from his face. "It is my rank, it means that I commanded a group of the elite."

  I didn't need to know any more, his frustration bled out into the area around him. Kadrix threw a small blade, a letter opener at best, at Lysander and proceeded to shoo us out before we had a chance to say or do much more.

  "The swords will require more blood to return to you when you release them,” Kadrix said matter-of-factly.

  Lysander simply nodded before he opened his palms and allowed the swords to fall. They vanished the moment they lost contact with his palms. I was adjusting to magic; it sat uneasily in the pit of my stomach, but there was no room for arguments. The time had come.

  “Why can't we use guns?" Viktor grumbled.

  Kadrix rolled his eyes and said very slowly and clearly, “Because guns run out of ammunition and rely on very expensive bullets to do any damage. Blades have no such problems."

  Viktor's mouth puckered into a small angry circle before he huffed and stomped off to join the other hunters that had huddled up by the statue. Shards of dusty pink sliced through the blue of the sky on the horizon; morning was coming. Azfin strolled up to us with a small band of fae. Haeyl walked at his side, forever the faithful second in command. Behind him walked what appeared to be three elves, all tall, slender, and predatory. Much to my distaste, they were followed by a collection of redcaps, in fresh white caps, ready to be dipped in blood. Azfin gave a small bow. His eyes remained fixed on mine, mocking me.

  “My lady, more of our kind will be joining us soon. We will not be letting this city go without a fight. What are your plans?"

  I looked to Quin and Kadrix, hoping one of them had something more than 'kill anything that looks infernal.'