One blond with pretty eyes and long hair raised her hand. Her eyes were not only pretty, but deep and serious. She was the only one not crying. He could tell she was a thinker.
Good. Brains and beauty. She’ll bring a good price. “Yes?”
“We’re hungry. And thirsty.”
“I expect so.” He rose and motioned them to follow him, leading them through French doors into a private dining room. The table was set with fine china accompanied by plastic utensils and cups.
He motioned them to sit. “I have special plans for you girls. You’re all beautiful and come from wealthy families. Because of this, I expect you have proper table manners which you’re going to need once I sell you to rich clients.” He clapped his hands. “So, show me how well you behave and I’ll know which buyers are right for you. Remember, the better your manners, the higher your price, the better your future.”
Shock filled their faces; even the smart blond stepped back. But she eyed the table and went to a seat, calling to the others. “Come on. Sit.” She glanced at him. “This is our life now. Get used to it and do as he says.”
They took seats, sitting prim and proper, if hesitant. Only the blond sat regal, daring to make eye contact with him, even watching him in the mirrored wall as he passed along behind them.
When he was several feet away, she stood so fast her chair shot from under her and hit the floor. She shattered her china plate on the table and picked out a ragged shard. Thinking she meant to harm herself, he rushed forward.
But she came at him with the shard raised and plunged it into his neck.
Blood spewed all over Dalton. It poured down his throat and ran down his chest and pooled at his feet. It rose to spatter his face and fill his nostrils—he drowned in his blood.
He choked and spat, but more blood came to overwhelm him. He had one consuming thought over and over: I have to put it back in. He scooped the viscous red fluid and tried to swallow it, but the more he swallowed, the more he choked and gagged.
Seeing blood everywhere, he realized there had to be more outside his body than in, and yet more blood poured from his neck. He glanced down and saw he was soaked head to toe.
Blood gurgled in his throat as he screamed.
In Purgatory, Malachi, Zander, and Ransom heard a faint scream, one broken and garbled. Malachi tipped his head to listen.
Zander stepped back.
Ransom turned toward the sound, his face rippling with horror; he covered his ears and hunched his back, hiding from the arriving agony. Zander grabbed his sleeve and jerked him out of the way.
The gut twisting echoes of the incoming scream intensified, filling the Purgatory chamber with reverberations. The vortex appeared with painful pressure against the eardrums before tossing out its latest delivery.
The form landed with a thud on the floor. His scream faded into sobs.
Malachi gave a pointed glance at Zander. Zander quickly nudged Ransom and together they helped the new arrival to stand.
“This is Dalton Ronhaus, our final addition to the hounds,” Malachi announced.
Ransom turned to whisper in Zander’s ear. “Hounds? What’s he talking about?”
“Where are we?” Dalton asked. He raked his gaze over Ransom and Zander. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“Listen to the dude,” Zander instructed. He placed a finger over his lips.
“You have a lot of questions, Ransom and Dalton,” Malachi said. “Here are your answers.” He snapped his fingers.
The three became hounds, snarling and whining, red-eyed and snapping at each other.
“Quiet,” Malachi said softly.
Zander nipped at the other two and sat, his attention on Malachi. Growling with reluctance, Ransom and Dalton followed his lead.
Malachi crossed his arms and glared hotly at them. Under the intensity of his gaze, one he’d practiced for eons, they sank down, sensing his ire and whining under the onslaught.
“You’re the worst of the worst and you’ve just had a taste of your karma—the depths of Hell.” He raised his nose slightly with disdain, making them cower even more. “First, we have Zander, a cold-blooded, heartless killer.”
Ransom and Dalton raised their heads enough to shoot a side glance at Zander, but Malachi put them back to ground, saying, “You two are no better.” They whined and covered their noses with their paws.
“Ransom, a thief with no conscience. Dalton, a serial abuser of those weaker than him. And you’re all on the waiting list for Hell.” His words opened the gate to their howling.
They bayed, noses lifted, and begged for relief, for reprieve, for anything but going back to Hell. They sang to the heavens of their remorse with their pitiful beseeching and echoes of pain.
Malachi understood well. Once you’ve seen Hell, it never leaves you. He snapped his fingers. They appeared human again, clean and newly clothed. “If you truly desire relief of your karma, this is your one and only chance for redemption. You know what that means?” They flinched as if he’d slapped a crop against his leg.
Zander spoke up. “It means don't screw up.”
“Exactly.” Malachi waved a hand and opened a dimensional portal into time. A ripple of energy spread before them, producing a swirling scene. A beautiful girl walked into a courtroom and sat.
Suddenly interested, the hounds waited for his next words.
“You must claim your mistress … before she’d dies.”
They turned back to the scene as the courtroom filled. In one voice they asked, “Who is she?”
Two
Bella Shay sat in the back of the courtroom; she wouldn’t miss this sentencing for the world. She glanced heavenward and whispered, “I got him Mom. You and Dad would be proud.”
Tears burned her eyes and she had to look down. Her grief over the loss of her parents was one she’d never get used to. But she hoped to assuage her pain by sending the monster responsible for their deaths to jail for the rest of his miserable life.
A side door opened and a deputy escorted Jack Bronson into the courtroom. He paused when he reached the defendant’s table and turned to scan the seats. He saw her and curled one lip. Before he could do more, the deputy pushed him into the seat. “Behave, you hear me?” the deputy said.
Bronson grumbled and settled into his seat. Next to him, a pricey lawyer whispered into his ear, but Bronson had swiveled around to stare at her, venom filling his gaze.
She had her own venom to deliver. Got you, you bastard. She notched her chin, driving home the message. His response was clear in his hate-filled gaze—he wanted to jump up and attack her. She placed one hand on her face and eased up her middle finger as she grinned.
He turned purple with rage, and she prayed he’d stroke out and spend the rest of his life a vegetable. His attorney followed the play between them and glanced at her. She shared her finger with him, too.
The bailiff called out, “All rise.” The judge entered and settled into his bench. A rustle of movement whispered through the gallery as he pushed papers around, searching. He found what he wanted and vertically smacked a stack of papers on the bench with a loud crack.
Everyone jumped.
He cleared his throat and levelled his gaze on the defendant. “Mr. Bronson, I believe people like you give humanity a bad name. In fact, I doubt you have any humanity to claim, any decency, or any right to live among other human beings.” He pointed at Bronson with a condemning finger. “Know this is your lucky day, for I would order you to serve your term in solitary if it were within my power.”
A gasp flitted around the courtroom. Bronson squirmed in his seat and when he tried to glance back, his attorney nudged him in the ribs and motioned him to pay attention to the judge.
The judge continued. “With willful and malicious forethought and planning, you allowed a highly toxic chemical from your company to be dumped into the water supply of a community. This was no accident with doubtful culpability.
“You alone bear the co
nsequences of this heinous act which took the lives of innocent people. You destroyed families, livelihoods, property, and the futures of many. Fortunately for you, the law does not provide me with a sentence you deserve.”
The judge’s words echoed about, giving Bella rise to wonder what sentence the judge felt appropriate. Tears filled her eyes. Tears of relief, of revenge, of closure, of justice. She leaned forward in her seat with anticipation as a murmur spread through the room.
Smacking his gavel, the judge announced, “Stand and receive your sentence, Jack Bronson.”
The attorney rose and when he attempted to support Bronson, as if the defendant might collapse after that excoriating preamble, Bronson jerked free and glared over his shoulder at her. Seeing the defendant’s focus, the judge hit his gavel again, the sound ear splitting. Bronson reluctantly faced the judge.
“I sentence you, Jack Bronson, for your crimes against the people and this community. You will spend the rest of your days in a maximum-security facility, never to be a free man again. Your financial holdings will be broken up and sold in pieces, with the monies going into a fund for clean-up costs for your toxic dumping crimes and to cover any medical and other compensatory needs of the people whose lives and property you’ve destroyed.”
The judge leaned forward and pointed his gavel at Bronson. “As God is my witness, I’d order you dumped alive into a vat of your own toxic chemicals if the law would allow me.”
Bella let the tears run freely, knowing she’d found justice for her parents, for the lost land that was her heritage, and for future generations who would escape Bronson’s future crimes.
Bronson was taken by the arms to be led away, but he wrenched free and turned to face her. “You bitch. I’ll kill you for this, you hear me. I’ll kill you.” The deputy jerked him forward, but he continued to scream. “You hear me? You’re a dead person. Dead.”
As they dragged him through the door, he spat her way.
In Purgatory, Malachi closed the dimensional portal and waited for the hounds’ reactions.
Ransom said, “Let me at him. I can con him out of everything he has.”
“I’ll torture him,” Dalton offered. “Make the big man cry.”
“Better yet,” Zander declared, “let me put one in his head, that’ll shut him up for good.”
Malachi tisked. “Boys, those are responses I’d expect from a human. With your status as Hellhounds, you’re getting new tools.” A flick of his fingers and Zander turned into a hound. With red eyes, he pawed at the ground and snapped his jaws in a display frightening enough to cause Ransom and Dalton to step back.
“That’s what you look like to a human on the earthly plane.”
Zander put his head back and howled, an excruciating sound known to rattle a man’s bones with fear. His eyes glowed wicked and sinister, famously inspiring open bladders and liquefied intestines.
Malachi brought Zander back to human form. “You each possess this form to claim at will. But understand, when a human has seen a hound three times, next they die. So, use your hound form sparingly.”
“But if we’re dealing with assholes like that guy in court, we need something more,” Ransom complained.
Malachi smiled. Each hound had strengths to draw on from their human lives. Also, there were lessons intended to be learned as hounds before they achieved redemption. In order to reach their supernatural goals, they were given supernatural powers.
“Zander, you can compel, make anyone’s mind think anything you want. Dalton, you can be invisible. And Ransom, you can stop time. So, these are the tools you’ll use to get what you want instead of killing, robbing, or abusing.”
“Stop time?” Ransom’s eyebrows shot up.
“Invisible, huh?” Dalton strutted with glee.
“Make any mind think anything? Now I can get behind that,” Zander added.
Malachi lifted a hand and the three men instantly dropped to their knees, reliving the agony they experienced in Hell … for ten seconds. He released them and they gasped. Zander rose from his fetal position. Ransom stopped clutching at his chest. Dalton pulled his hands from his neck.
“Remind me what your priority is,” Malachi said.
“Don’t—”
“Screw—”
“Up.”
“Exactly. Don’t make me have to take you back to Hell again. Next time, you may not come out.”
“So, what do we do with these tools?” Zander asked.
“You have to claim her before Bronson has her murdered. To do that you must make a connection with her. And she must make a connection with you.”
“How do we do that?” Dalton asked.
“Start by discovering who she is,” Malachi said. He waved his hand and opened another time portal.
Bella ran to the top of the hill and twirled with her arms flung out. The sun was warm on her head and flowers bloomed in a colorful swath at her feet; her childish giggle danced in the air. She dropped to the ground and lay in the wild flowers. This was her favorite place, where everything beautiful was within touch.
Puffy white clouds passed overhead, casting graceful shadows across the opposite hillside. Birds in the big oak tree chirped and flitted among the branches. Behind her, the stream gurgled, inviting her to take off her shoes and come wade.
But dinnertime was soon. In the distance, her mother was bringing in the laundry. Bella stood and brushed off her shorts. She wasn’t tall enough to reach the laundry line, but she could help fold the towels. With joy in her step, she bounded down the hill.
In the Purgatory chamber, Malachi searched for their reactions. Dalton hooked his thumbs in his belt. “She had a … nice childhood.” He frowned.
“How do you feel about that?”
Dalton gazed off and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m glad someone did.”
“What about you, Ransom?” Malachi asked. “Would you take all that away from her?”
He shuffled his feet. “Is this a trick question? I don't want to go back to Hell for the wrong answer.”
Tension filled the space. Zander and Dalton watched closely.
Malachi prodded. “Don’t you feel you deserve what she has? If you took it, it would be yours.”
Ransom gazed blankly, lost in thought, rubbing one of his bare fingers as if there was a ring there to turn. “It looked beautiful where she was. It wouldn’t be the same if it were me instead of her. So, no, I wouldn’t take it away from her.”
“And you, Zander. Would you kill her for no reason if she crossed your path on a city street?”
Zander studied the dark stone floor at his feet, leaving silence to build. At last he glanced up and said, “I hope not. She has a good life; she deserves to live. But how did she get on Bronson’s hit list?”
Malachi smiled and waved his hand, opening another portal.
Bella already had her bags packed and loaded into her car. She stood at the threshold of her bedroom, remembering the many good years she’d spent in this room. From the southern window, she could see the flowered hilltop that had always been her sanctuary. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered. Can’t put it off any longer. I’ll never get to college if I don't walk out that door.
With a deep exhalation, she turned and marched down the stairs. Even though she promised herself not to cry, the sight of her mom and dad standing at the door to say goodbye did her in. Hot tears flooded the back of her sinuses.
“Oh, now, you promised not to cry,” her mom berated softly. She opened her arms.
Dad complained. “Come on girls, stop or you’ll have me blubbering, too.”
Bella wiped at her eyes and rushed into her mother’s arms. Dad crowded in for a family hug. They stayed like that until Bella, said, “I’m going to miss you so much!”
“Honey, you’re going to be too busy to have time to think about us.” Mom pulled a tissue from her pocket and they dried their tears together.
“You watch out for the boys,” Dad said. “You carry that pep
per spray everywhere you go, even to class.”
Bella snorted with laughter. She’d been carrying pepper spray since she was twelve. “I will, Dad. And I have extra spray, just in case.”
With nothing left to say, she gazed at her car. Time to go.
They followed her out. She got in and started the engine, but an odd reluctance prevented her from pulling out right away. She glanced at their bright faces and knew she had the best parents in the world. They’ll make wonderful grandparents when my children come here for the summers.
“I’ll call every day,” she said and threw kisses. She headed toward the highway with the determination and confidence of youth.
Malachi waited, for each hound had something to say. “Zander?”
“What that man, Bronson, did, how could anyone be so callous and cold-hearted?”
Dalton agreed. “Bronson took away everything good she had.”
Ransom reminded them in his soft voice, “She won’t have any summer house, maybe no husband or children, no future. She’s been robbed.” Guilt shaded his eyes as though he’d been the thief.
“Good,” Malachi said. He opened another portal in time, and they leaned forward to watch.
Bella wiped her eyes beneath her black veil. She didn’t want anyone to see her. Didn’t want anyone to interrupt her abject suffering. Didn’t want anyone to speak to her, requiring her to respond. She needed to get through this funeral, and eventually the rest of her life.
But first, she would find out what killed her parents. College had taught her how to discover, and discovering the source of the cancer that struck down her mother and father was of paramount importance.
When she returned from the cemetery, the house was already filled with well-wishing friends with their consolations. The sight of endless casserole dishes on the table made her stomach reel. How am I supposed to eat?
Later, after everyone had left, she walked through the big house filled with all the memories of her youth.
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