Charade (Heven & Hell)

by Cambria Hebert

  I stretched out two midnight-colored paws in front of me and flexed my claws into the earth. It felt good to give in to the hound sometimes, especially when it was because I wanted to and not because I had to (like when a demon was trying to kill Heven). This is the feeling I thought if Logan could experience, he would understand—he would see that being this way isn’t the end of his world.

  I stood up and looked at Logan, who still hadn’t shifted and had begun to sweat. It was trickling down his bare chest and beading on his upper lip. I couldn’t talk in this form so I tilted my head to the side, hoping he would understand I wanted to know what was wrong.

  He was looking at me with fear in his eyes. I was standing in front of him, accepting who I am and exactly what he fought to ignore. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down and waited for him to shift. To my relief, I didn’t have to wait long. He dropped down onto hands and knees and began to shift.

  It was horrifying.

  His body seemed to break itself apart; his skin stretched paper-thin and his bones poked at it until I was sure they would puncture right through. The sounds that tore from his throat were gut-wrenching and not at all what I had been expecting. Sure, I knew that shifting might hurt him a little (especially since he fought it so much), but not even my first time had been like this.

  He seemed to scream and groan all at once. Sometimes he sounded like a hurt little boy and others like a beast trying to claw its way out of Hell.

  I was completely frozen.

  I sat there in shock not knowing what to do, knowing there wasn’t anything I could do, and as his body writhed, I felt my instincts sharpen, to identify… a threat. I shut down that feeling immediately. Logan was not a threat to me.

  He was my brother.

  He let out another shriek, one that raised the hair along my back and I was sickened and mesmerized all at once because the way his skin stretched and bunched just made me think over and over that there was something inside him that wanted out.

  And then it stopped.

  He looked just like I did in hellhound form—only smaller.

  The sight actually made me feel better. While I was watching his body literally rip itself apart, I had begun to regret forcing him to come here. Maybe Logan shouldn’t have to face the hound in him… but looking at him now, sitting there peacefully with all traces of pain gone from his face, I thought maybe things would be okay after all.

  I made a sound in the back of my throat, wanting to know if he was okay.

  His eyes flashed—not quite gold—like mine, but more of an orange shade, like the color of a flame. I blinked and looked back, but the color was gone. His eyes were once again human-looking, a soft hazel shade, full of vulnerability.

  He made an answering sound and stood up. He was ready to go.

  Shaking off my doubts, I stood and moved past him to begin tracking the deer. I really doubted that we would find it; he made so much noise shifting that he probably scared every animal in this wood within ten miles. But it didn’t matter if we found the deer. All that mattered was spending time in our hound forms so Logan could become more comfortable.

  We moved through the woods as quickly and quietly as possible. I was more experienced than Logan, so I moved with more grace, but he seemed to learn fast, which I thought was a good sign. After a while, I sort of gave up on the deer, decided to have some fun and stopped abruptly in my tracks. Logan, who had been following behind, ran right into me.

  I turned around, flattened my ears to my head and narrowed my eyes, giving him time to see what was coming. He seemed to brace himself and then I launched at him, both of us rolling across the forest floor. Because the trees were so dense, we didn’t make it very far before we smacked into one. Logan acted fast and pinned me to the floor, snapping at my jaw. I bucked him off and lunged, grabbing at his tail and pulling him backward, then flipping him onto his back and pinning him down.

  He was breathing hard when I looked down into his eyes, my own eyes laughing. Gotcha.

  He growled and snapped at me. I let him up and we went round and round across the floor, leaves and dirt flying as my brother and I enjoyed our guy time.

  He moved well. He was quick and seemed to be able to anticipate my moves seconds before I made them. Because he was smaller than me, he could move more quickly and leapt out of my way when I pounced.

  I was actually very impressed.

  When I was first learning, I hardly had any control. Learning to move on four legs instead of two was harder than it looked. The sheer weight of my form was something I had to learn to carry; it wasn’t that I hadn’t been strong enough—I was—but learning how to move several hundred pounds was a challenge.

  We were having a good time and it made me wonder why he had been so reluctant to shift. But the question was short-lived as the memory of his screams and the vision of his contortioned body drifted into my head. It distracted me and Logan took the opportunity to slam me into the base of a large tree.

  Pain shot through my back and side and I growled, adrenaline surged through me and I swung my head around and locked my jaws around his neck. He fought me for a minute, but I held fast and then tipped him onto the ground to pin him. I had never set out to hurt him. All our sparring had been in good fun and learning how to move.

  But that had hurt. He saw my distraction and took advantage. He was my brother but I had enough hound in me to let him know that I was the one in control here.

  After I had him pinned, he went still and waited for me to take my teeth from his neck, which I did.

  Instantly, he was up and staring at me with a challenge in his eye. I saw a flash of that flame color and then he lunged. I braced myself for a true fight this time, but to my surprise, he raced past me and took off through the trees.

  I went after him, wishing I had my human voice to call out to him, to see what he was doing. But I didn’t.

  So I followed him.

  Logan was quick, but I could keep up. My legs were longer, giving me an advantage. I stayed back, just feet behind him, curious to see where he was going—what he was doing.

  Then I picked up another scent.

  The deer.

  I heard it before I saw it. It was lunging away from us through the forest, eyes wide, knowing it was being stalked, and it’s only thought was to escape. It’s like it knew what was about to happen.

  With a burst of speed, Logan disappeared through the trees. I heard a squeal and a thump. I raced forward, hearing my own heart pounding in my ears. Logan came into sight and he was standing over top the deer who was flailing about, trying to escape, its eyes wide and nostrils flaring in panic. It saw me and its efforts increased.

  Instead of backing away like I would have done, he tackled it.

  For the kill.

  The deer let out one last scream and then Logan ripped its throat out.

  He did it with such enthusiasm, I looked away.

  The sound of tearing flesh and the smell of fresh blood made me queasy. I didn’t understand what happened. One minute we were having fun, being brothers, and the next, he was attacking me and killing wildlife.

  In all my years as a hellhound, I had never killed any other animals. I certainly never ate them.

  I looked back at Logan who was still enjoying his kill and a growl ripped from my throat. He looked up. I stared him down, without blinking.

  He glanced back down at the deer and then he walked away from it, without looking back, to stand in front of me. Gone was the color of flames. His eyes were back to normal and they held not one bit of remorse.

  His fur was matted with blood, dirt and leaves. I walked away without a sound and he followed. We walked in silence, the only sounds were that of the night and as we drew closer, the sound of the lake rippling against the shore.

  There actually wasn’t much of a shore here at all. This was not a part of the lake accessible to the public. It just happened to be where the lake ended and the earth began. Without hesitation, I leap
ed right into the dark, cold water.

  I loved the water. Sometimes it called to me. I was meant to swim and although I weighed hundreds of pounds, the water made me feel weightless. I remember when I first started changing; the water was the only place I felt truly like myself.

  Hopefully, Logan would feel that way now. Hopefully, it would wash away whatever was going on inside his head. I poked my head up out of the water to look for him. He was still on shore, watching me swim.

  I paddled over and pulled up out of the water, not bothering to shake the heaviness of the water out of my fur. I tilted my head toward the water and Logan shook his head.

  Was everything going to be a fight with him?

  Without even giving it a second thought, I charged him, and like a battering ram, pushed him into the lake. He seemed to hit like a ton of bricks and sink. Down, down, down he went until I thought he might not come back to the surface. Just as I was about to jump in after him, there was a commotion in the water and his dark head appeared. He flailed about, panic-stricken—like he didn’t know how to swim. But that couldn’t be because all hellhounds knew how to swim; we were waterproof. He caught sight of me and made a sound that could only mean help.

  I jumped into the water to pull him back to shore when he went under again and all his thrashing stopped. I dove down, searching the dark water for him.

  I broke the surface the same time he did, only this time he was in his human form.

  “What the hell, Sam?” he said, his voice a little shaky. “How about a warning next time?” He swam back to shore and pulled himself out onto the dirt ground. I did the same, morphing back, so we could talk.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

  “I didn’t want to go swimming!” he demanded.

  “You were covered in blood,” I said flatly.

  That seemed to shut him up and we both sat there, dripping wet in the dark. I wanted to ask him what happened. I wanted to ask him why he killed that deer. I wanted to know what it had felt like…

  I wasn’t sure I really wanted to hear his answers.

  “Can we go now?” Logan eventually asked. He sounded tired.

  “Sure.” We both made the long walk back to the truck, silent the whole way until I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Logan,” I began, “does it always hurt like that, every time you shift?”

  Logan was silent for a few long moments and then his voice, soft and low cut right through me. “Yeah. The couple times I have shifted, it—it hurts. But mostly I don’t remember when I shift.”

  “You don’t remember?” I stopped to stare at him through the dark.

  He seemed self-conscious and something else as he looked away. He shook his head. “Sometimes I wake up in places that I hadn’t been when I went to sleep.” He looked back at me. He was scared. More scared than I had ever seen him.

  “That happen a lot?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, not letting on to how much this disturbed me.

  “Not for a while. It’s better since I found you.”

  I nodded. “That’s real good.”

  Logan sighed. “Please don’t make me do this again.”

  “Yeah, okay. We won’t do this—not until we know that you can control it. Not until you feel like it’s part of you.”

  His shoulders slumped like he’d been told his best friend in the world died. “You don’t get it. It isn’t part of me. It’s a stranger.”

  There wasn’t anything I could say. Before he could move past me in the direction of the truck, I grabbed him and gave him a hard hug. It was meant to be quick and firm, but he grabbed onto me and wouldn’t let go. His face buried itself in my shoulder and he shook like he might cry.

  “Hey. Hey, bud, it’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.”

  He pulled away and nodded, walking off to find the truck.

  I watched him go. I hadn’t been around many hellhounds in my life—it’s true we are a very rare occurrence, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the hellhound in Logan wasn’t like the other ones I had known. Something was wrong. His words floated through my head, taunting me.

  It’s a stranger.

  Angry, I pushed the thought away. He wasn’t a stranger. He was my family. My brother. And whatever it was we would get through together.

  * * *

  Logan was still quiet and withdrawn when we got back to the apartment. Thankfully, he wanted a shower the minute we walked through the door and it gave me a few minutes alone to not have to be the one to hold everything together. I glanced at the clock and sighed. It was late. By now I was usually at Heven’s with her body pressed against mine as she slept. I had grown accustomed to that, to her. It was the best part of my day. She was probably in bed already, the covers pulled around her, her blond hair spread out across the pillow. Usually all that hair kind of annoyed me. When I would breathe, it would go up my nose, it would get in my eyes, and I was always afraid I would roll on it and pull it. What I would give for some of that ‘annoyance’ right now. Besides, it smelled good.

  I flopped down on the couch and leaned my head back against the cushion. Heven.

  Hey! How was your guy bonding?

  It was good. I took Logan out into the woods—you know the ones that back up against Lake Sebago? We lost track of time.

  I’m glad you guys had a good time. I loved the way her voice sounded sleepy, even in my head. It was slower than usual and a little deeper. I closed my eyes.

  Yeah, honey, we did.

  Sam? You sound off.

  Everything’s fine, but Logan shifted, finally—

  That’s great! Is he a little more accepting of himself now?

  It’s been a hard night for him… I really hoped she wouldn’t press the issue. I didn’t want to tell her what really happened. I know she tried to hide how uneasy she feels around Logan sometimes, but it was something that I could feel anyway. It didn’t bother me that she tried to conceal her feelings about my brother because I knew she was doing it out of love. So not telling her about tonight was kind of the same—I was doing it out of love.

  Maybe if you stayed with him tonight it would help.

  You won’t be upset?

  Of course not, Sam. Logan is your little brother. He needs you.

  I miss you.

  I miss you too. This bed isn’t the same without you hogging it up.

  I grinned. I don’t hog the bed.

  Yes, you do. But I like it, so that’s okay. How about I bring some breakfast over in the morning before work? I’ll bring Logan’s favorite, donuts.

  He would like that. Knowing that she felt uneasy around my brother and was still willing to support him lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. It was so nice to know I wasn’t alone. I spent too long feeling alone and this was so much better. I would too.

  Get some sleep, Sam. I’ll see you in the morning.

  Thank you, Hev. For understanding. For loving me. For bringing me a donut.

  Anything for you. Now go take a shower. You probably smell after being in the woods.

  I laughed out loud as Logan was coming out of the bathroom.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  I sat up and turned. He looked a lot better. His skin was no longer pale and he didn’t seem weighed down with pain.

  “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  “Some thoughts,” he muttered.

  I jumped up off the couch and headed for my dresser to pull out some clean clothes. Heven was right. I did stink. “I’m taking a shower.”

  Logan was busy looking through the fridge, which was probably almost empty. A trip to the store was needed.

  “You hungry?”

  He grunted.

  “Me too. There’s mac n cheese in the cabinet. Make enough for me.”

  “You’re staying?” The slightly insecure tone to his voice had my gut tightening.

  I turned from the bathroom door. “Yup. I want to hang with you tonight.”

&nb
sp; “Cool,” he said and walked to the cabinet to find the mac n cheese.

  Before he turned away, I saw him smile.

  Heven

  The shop was finally empty. With a great sigh of relief, I grabbed a cleaning rag and went around the counter to wipe down the tables and straighten the chairs. This afternoon, I think everybody and their mother wanted ice cream. From the minute I walked in to begin my shift, it was nonstop scooping and ringing at the cash register. About fifty people wanted milkshakes. I hated milkshakes. An odd thing to hate for sure, but with a line out the door and me as the only one working, every time someone uttered the word ‘shake,’ I cringed. They were a real pain to make. I had to get a tumbler, scoop out the ice cream, add the flavorings and the cream, hook the glass into the machine and turn it on and wait… then I had to put it all into a cup, add the whipped cream and a lid. I glanced over at the shake machine and stuck out my tongue. Did I mention what a pain in the butt that thing was to clean? Ugh. The bell on the door rang and I sighed. It seemed my reprieve would not be for very long.

  “Hey, girl,” Kimber sang. I looked up, surprised to see her. Things between us lately have been kind of strained, which I knew was my fault. It’s hard to pretend to be a BFF with someone whose aura gave away that maybe she isn’t as great of a friend as you thought.

  “Hey!” I said, tossing the rag on the last table and turning around. From behind Kimber, Cole grinned and waved. I smiled even as my stomach did a little dip. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable around Cole. But ever since the other day in the parking lot, I did.

  “What the heck happened in here?” Kimber said, looking around at the damage the crowd had left.

  “I think everyone in Sebago Lake stampeded the place this afternoon.” I finished wiping up the last table and turned my attention to the floor. It was littered with napkins and sample spoons. I sighed. “What can I get you guys?”