Heroes and a Hellhound: Book One

by Eleanor Rousseau

  I threw my phone into the heart of darkness. Well, I threw it at the head of the shadow-wrapped witch. But saying it the first way sounded more dramatic.

  There was a brief moment of silence. “Bark twice if you’re concussed.”

  Snow crunched as her body slumped to the ground. There were two main qualities I looked for in a phone. One, was it under £25? And, two, I wanted it to be bulky enough that, if I threw it at someone, it would do some damage.

  This phone had apparently passed both tests.

  Score.

  28

  28 - Revenge

  Nevaeh -

  “Mmm, baby, isn’t it a little early for foreplay?” purred Tim, his voice thick with sleep, as I climbed on top of him. His body was firm, even when he was relaxed and only half awake.

  I grinned. “Peaches, it’s never too early for revenge.”

  His eyes shot open and his hard body tensed. “Shit.”

  I yanked the chain tighter, wrenching his limbs, which I’d cuffed while he was distracted with my breasts. Then I clipped the chains into place with a padlock.

  He huffed and yanked at the cuffs which anchored him to the sturdy wooden bed frame. “You bitch,” he breathed, eyes fiery.

  I smiled. “Just call me Karma,” I teased, reaching to clutch his jaw.

  “What happened to your whole ‘let’s stop being sociopaths’ speech?”

  “I meant every word, but I also won’t have you thinking you can get away with this kind of behaviour.” I pulled out my phone. “I’m also going to post the naked pics I have of you all over the Internet.”

  “When the hell did you take pictures of me naked?” he demanded, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “The first week we were together. I’m not saying that I anticipated needing to take revenge on you; I’m just saying I like to be prepared for every eventuality. If it helps, they’re very tasteful.” I tapped at the screen of my phone.

  “You are so devious and vindictive, it would be hot if it wasn’t currently aimed in my direction.”

  “Dude, you’ve already got thirteen likes,” I told him. “Oh, that was quick—twenty-nine. I think your naked ass might just go viral.” I reached to draw my nails down his abdomen.

  “God, that’s the evilest thing I can think of. Take it down!” he snarled.

  I grinned. “Too late. It’s already been shared… sixteen times. Wow, you should see some of these comments…” I stared at the screen. “On the bright side, if things don’t work out between us, you can probably find a date online. Evelyn from…” I tapped the phone, “Sussex says she would ‘go to town on that boy’. Oh, she’s only forty-nine.”

  “Stop it. Have mercy!” He shifted, trying to knock me off him, but I braced a hand on his stomach to keep stable.

  “There are a few asking if he’s single. You think I should respond? Tell them you’re taken, but I’d be willing to rent you out?”

  “Don’t you dare,” he growled, still trying to buck me off.

  “Over two hundred likes! Aren’t we popular? Oh, and someone just commented their phone number. She’s pretty. How do you feel about brunettes?” I asked curiously.

  “I prefer evil little hellhounds,” he growled.

  “That’s sweet, maybe even sweet enough to keep me from sharing another pic… Oops, too late. Hold on, I’ll show it to you. There’s the pic.” I showed him a naked picture of himself. It was a full frontal.

  He winced. “Hell, I’m sorry, okay? Just stop.”

  “But this one’s even more popular than the last. Someone wants to know if you do modelling. You should—we could make a killing. I could probably sell some of these other nudes that I’ve got.” I chuckled as I flicked through my photos. “I got into the nasty habit of taking some every few weeks.”

  He glared up at me. “You’re sadistic,” he informed me.

  Like I didn’t already know.

  I grinned. “Don’t worry, I keep them in an unmarked file. Anyone who went on my phone wouldn’t easily be able to find them. Not that that matters now.”

  He pulled at his restraints. “Okay, that’s enough.”

  “Are you sure? Because social media is practically crying out for more. People want to know who you are. You think I should tell them your name? Hashtag naked Tim, hashtag revenge, hashtag newly single…” I tapped at the screen.

  “Just kill me already, and get it over with,” he pleaded.

  “Not until you reach a thousand likes, sweetie. Which, at this rate, should happen within the hour.”

  “Is it even legal to do that without my permission?” he demanded.

  “How legal is it to chain your wife up in the basement, Timothy?” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at the bastard.

  He made a sound of frustration.

  “I’m making you a Twitter account,” I murmured, tapping at the screen some more.

  “Oh God, I despise social media,” he growled, glaring up at me. I dragged my nails down his chest and he made a sound that was part pain part pleasure. My husband was a bit of a freak.

  * * *

  Timothy -

  I didn’t really care about it. Sure, I was uncomfortable with having my picture out there, particularly with my criminal activities. But I wasn’t particularly shy about my body. If anything, I was just pleased that she seemed to be enjoying herself.

  “Well, the feeling certainly isn’t mutual. You’re blowing up! What would you say your interests are? Being a jackass?”

  “Enough! I’ve had enough, have mercy. I’ll do anything,” I promised. A muscle in her cheek twitched and I knew she really was enjoying herself. Usually, she would feel at least a little bad about doing something like this. She must be really mad.

  Unless . . .

  I studied her again. Was she playing me? It would be just like her to make me believe she was being cruel. Then later if I got mad about it, she would confess and I’d feel like a fool for believing her lies. But she was very convincing. She had none of the usual tells of a person who was lying. Her heart rate was slightly elevated but consistent, and that could be explained away by the fact she was straddling her half-naked husband in bed.

  “Anything?” she asked hesitantly.

  I nodded. “Just have mercy.” Now I was fairly confident she was lying her ass off. But I was enjoying being the focus of her attention, although I was careful not to show it.

  “Well, first of all, in the future the only time either of us will be chained up in this house is when it’s for recreational purposes,” she said firmly.

  I tried and failed to hold back a grin. “I am willing to agree to that.”

  “And we’ll both limit the amount of physical damage we cause to each other,” she said, her gaze flickering down to the red claws-marks she’d left on my chest and abdomen.

  “If you insist.” I was assuming that meant no guns or knives, but clawing and biting were okay during sex, or when flirting.

  “And you’ll let me do my job without causing me trouble.”

  This time, I hesitated. “What if I miss you?” Life on earth could get pretty boring without my hellhound around to entertain me.

  “Then you can come to me.”

  I considered her for a moment. “I’m not wearing a stupid outfit.” I wasn’t entirely sure how their whole superhero gig worked but, on the shows she watched, they all wore masks and dumb outfits.

  She grinned. “Damn, I was hoping to get you into spandex.”

  I smiled up at her. “Are we cool?”

  She leant down and rubbed her nose along my jaw. “We’re good, as long as you understand that I’m still going to have to keep you chained up here for a while.”

  My smile widened. “Whatever floats your boat, babe.”

  She kissed my cheek. “And you should know I didn’t share those nudes on the internet…” She kissed a spot on my neck, just below my ear. “But I did send them to everyone we know. Ta-ta.” She leapt off of me and strolled out of the doo
r, laughing.

  “Son of a…” I yanked at the chains. But I’d left her in the basement for days, and I’d no doubt she’d ensured I’d suffer the same fate.

  29

  29 - Beneath the Snow

  Nevaeh -

  My smugness didn’t subside as I stepped into our headquarters. The others were all gathered, a clear indication that I was late for a team meeting. But, given that I’d had no idea we had a team meeting planned, it was pretty miraculous that I’d made it at all. I had my hubby chained up and I’d made it to work on time. I was killing it. But not killing people, because that would be wrong.

  “I have arrived,” I announced in a grandiose tone.

  “Only fifteen minutes late,” Juliette said, her tone wry.

  “I don’t expect applause;, your heartfelt appreciation is enough for me,” I told them, taking a seat in one of the desk chairs, the kind that had wheels and spun around. “You may proceed,” I added.

  Jason rolled his eyes but he did start speaking, because he knew who was really in charge. “Right. Now we can get to the real reason I asked you all here. The witch is being questioned in police custody. I wanted to follow up on their progress but a more pressing matter has come up.”

  “More pressing than Falmouth and the next three towns over being snowed in by supernatural forces?” Dee asked sceptically.

  “Yes, though it does relate to that situation. The snow—it hid something far worse,” Jason explained.

  “What? Yellow snow?” I asked.

  He tactfully ignored me. “The source of the snow storm was not a well- kept secret. It seems the term ‘witch’ still has an impact.”

  “Is this about the deaths?” Juliette asked.

  Deaths were unsurprising. No one would have anticipated a snowstorm in the middle of June and many, many people would have been hit unprepared. The snow melted soon enough after the storm ended, but there had still been hours of freezing temperatures. It would be hard to get justice for those deaths. But I doubted that would keep Jason from trying.

  “Yes. All by different killers, different means. The city is on the precipice of something bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if riots started breaking out.”

  “Wait. People are using the snow storm to indulge their homicidal fantasies?” Maybe, if people were snowed in for weeks or even months, I could see people getting stir crazy, but it had been five fucking hours! I’d spent longer debating whether or not to get off of the sofa to grab a snack.

  “There has to be more to it than that. I’ve spoken with the authorities and gotten us access to some of the crime scenes. We’ll be breaking up into groups to check them out.”

  “Oh, dibs on going solo.”

  Jason shook his head. “You’re with me.”

  “Fuck.” Could he even do that when I’d already called dibs?

  “No one’s going anywhere alone. I’ve got us access to three scenes. If we get nothing from those, there’s likely nothing we can do that the professionals can’t. And getting access to more will be a pain. Bureaucracy isn’t my strong suit.”

  “I could—”

  “No,” he cut in. Then he pointed a finger at me. “No,” he repeated.

  I sniffed, insulted, but I didn’t retaliate. I’d wait until he wasn’t expecting it.

  “So, we need to make the most of our time at the crime scenes. I want a full report. No detail is too small; anything could help,” he pressed.

  I made a soft sound of displeasure. I was all for stopping criminals and saving lives, in theory, but not if it meant we had to do homework. I got enough of that in the form of uni assignments. Though, it did make having Jason as a partner seem a tad more appealing. The nerd would do all the note-taking and I could just take credit. Or use my vast wealth of knowledge to contribute in a meaningful way… But probably that first thing.

  “What about their shoe size?” I asked.

  “Why would their shoe size matter?” he replied.

  So much for his ‘no detail is too small BS’. “Do you think I have big feet?” I lifted a foot into the air.

  He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked at my foot. “Why on earth wou— Huh, they are kinda big.”

  I gasped. “How dare you? I’m only size seven.”

  “Well, why would you ask when… Nope, you know what? Never mind, I don’t care. Don’t worry about shoe sizes. You’ll each have files on all three murders, so please give them at least a cursory glance,” he said, looking pointedly at me.

  Joke was on him; I loved reading about murders.

  “Okay, but you do know we’re not trained detectives, right?” Juliette commented, shooting Jason a look.

  “No, you’re English students. So, I’m sure you’ve read enough on the subject that, combined with your enhanced abilities, you will be able to pick something up.”

  The guy had a point. One of my courses had been titled Representations of Crime, or something similar. Of course, it didn’t actually teach me the in’s and out’s of committing crime, but I did learn that writers could be pretty twisted, and equally inventive. That, I could admire.

  Predictably, Jason was not an English student. I was pretty sure he studied rocks, or something equally absurd. As far as I could recall, we’d met him through Rosa, who had been his flatmate first year. I flicked open the file he handed me. Two murders—two women—both were single and lived alone.

  I didn’t mention that he’d given me only two files, not three. Asking for more work went against everything I stood for.

  Mama didn’t raise no fool.

  “Rosa and Zo, you’re taking the first murder. Juliette, Dee and Terra, you get the second, and Nevaeh and I will take the third. Officers will meet you at the scene. Come on, Nevaeh.”

  I glanced up at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Um, please, come with me?”

  “You’re lucky I recently satisfied my need for revenge and I’m in a good mood. But, for the record, you better check that attitude. Just because I choose to do as you ask, doesn’t mean I will continue to feel the inclination.” Tossing my hair over my shoulder to punctuate the warning, I spun on my heel and walked away.

  If he kept up with the high and mighty shit, I’d have to find a more effective way to put him in his place. After all there were, rarely, occasions where a hair flip was not the most effective way to convey one’s message. Jason trailed behind me silently, because, evidence to the contrary, he was not a complete idiot.

  * * *

  Rosa -

  The cracking of my bones accompanied the sound of Zo’s dry heaving. I straightened and stretched briefly before bending to scoop up my discarded clothes. I tugged them on as fast as possible. No need to give the officer assigned to us a free show. He was polite enough to turn away, anyway.

  “You work in a mortuary; why does this make you throw up?” I asked, slightly bemused. Dead bodies didn’t worry me, but I also didn’t fancy the idea of working beside them all day every day. And I didn’t need to feast on their brains to survive.

  “When the stiffs get to us, they’re usually… stitched up, and less ripe,” she said, grimacing and looking everywhere but at the body.

  “At least you didn’t have to sniff the damn thing.” My human senses were dull, but my nose still stung with the scent of fresh blood. Typically, my gift was pretty damn useful. Being able to shift into a bloodhound was incredibly helpful in tracking someone, but it could also be incredibly gross.

  “It looks like there was a brief struggle which caused her to fall and hit her head on the corner of the TV stand. It could have been an accident, an argument that got too heated,” Zo mused.

  I closed my eyes, focusing on the things I’d smelled when I’d taken the form of a bloodhound, and sniffed around the scene. The information was too vast and intense for my human brain to process in its entirety, but I could recall two fresh scent trails, neither of which belonged to the victim, or any of the officers who lingered around the s
cene. They had both smelled… angry. Very angry.

  “Well, it certainly got heated, but I think we’re talking about more than one assailant.”

  “Are we talking about a conspiracy, or what?” Zo asked, rubbing her temples as if she was getting a migraine.

  “Two females were involved in the attack,” I realised.

  “Well, it could have been the mother of all cat fights,” Zo muttered. “There are some defensive wounds on her arms, so she didn’t take it lying down. If she was a witch, wouldn’t she have used magic to protect herself?”

  “She was a herbalist.” I didn’t need the nose of a bloodhound to work that one out. The entire place stank of herbs, not to mention the cabinet which was overflowing with various jars and pots. “Chances were that her speciality was brewing potions; she wasn’t a caster. Defensive magic is rarer than you’d think.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. After the situation with the Eye, Nevaeh spent a few days ranting about how weak witches are, and how they had to resort to trickery because most of them couldn’t throw a simple fireball.”

  “Yeah, it deeply worries me to know she is just walking around with the ability to control fire.”

  “As it should.” I smirked. Luckily, senseless destruction was not Neva’s speed. She was very precise when it came to the things and people she wanted to destroy.

  The officer, who had stepped out at some point, returned with a phone in his hand. “There’s been a development. Apparently, a client of the victim turned herself in. She claims she bought a potion to increase her, um, likability. When it didn’t work, she got mad and confronted the victim. Soon after, the assailant’s mother came in, trying to convince them her daughter was mentally unfit and had made up the story.”

  Zo raised a sceptical brow. “How likely is that?”

  “News of the murder hasn’t been made public, so the only way the daughter could have known…”