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Christmas Hellhound (A Mate for Christmas Book 2)

Page 15

by Zoe Chant


  “Look. Knowing who we’re up against is one thing. But we’re no better off than we were before. You’re right. We’re sitting ducks.” Hank blew out his cheeks. “Well. Those of us who can fly away in a crisis are sitting ducks. The rest of the town are, as you said, fish in a barrel.”

  Including Meaghan.

  “We could use a hellhound on our side.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.” But if Meaghan’s in danger—

  “Hey! Caine!” Jackson’s voice echoed through the woods.

  Hank groaned. “Damn it, Jackson, you’re meant to be on lookout today.”

  “Looking out for something even you shifters can’t see? Yeah, I’ll get right on it.” He jerked his chin at Caine. “Right after I’ve had a chat with our friend here.”

  Hank stared at him, then glanced at Caine and shrugged. “Kids,” he grumbled, even though he had five years at most on Caine. “I’ll start heading back. Let Bob know the track’s clear.”

  Caine waited for him to disappear around a turn in the track.

  He almost got me. The big dragon shifter was so bluff and hearty, Caine hadn’t expected that sort of trickery. Hank had almost managed to get Caine to talk himself into thinking his hellhound might be useful to keep around.

  He turned to face Jackson. The younger man had his hands thrust deep in his jacket pockets. His stance was bullish.

  “You here to throw a punch?”

  “Against a shifter who can walk through walls?” Jackson threw back. Caine tensed, and Jackson cursed. “You wouldn’t do it, would you? Use your hellhound powers to avoid a punch. You’re that twisted up about it. Shit.”

  Jackson stalked down the track another few faces and kicked a snow-covered rock.

  “The others think you’ll get over it. That you’re freaking out over being a baby shifter and getting to know your hellhound, and they can jolly you along until you get over yourself and apologize to Meaghan for being an asshole. But you’re not, are you? And now she’s—fuck.”

  Caine didn’t answer. Jackson swore and kicked the rock again.

  “Do you even know how lucky you are?”

  “Lucky? I’ve got a monster inside me!”

  “You’ve got a mate!” Jackson roared back. “And you’re going to let her go, you’re going to lose the best thing that can happen to any shifter—any person—just because you don’t like your hellhound?”

  Caine clenched his fists, ready to turn this into a real shouting match, when something in Jackson’s expression made him pause.

  “You’re right. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s why I need to stay away from her.”

  “You’re going to lose her.” The steam had gone out of Jackson, as well. “Olly—” He winced. “Olly thinks Meaghan’s going to come roaring up here to tell you to pull your head out of your ass, but she doesn’t know what it’s like. Having that soulmate bond hanging there like a promise, just out of reach, and it being yanked away.” He swallowed hard. “Meaghan deserves better than that.”

  Caine’s chest twisted, deep in that spot where his hellhound lay wrapped around a dying candleflame. He rubbed his breastbone, not meeting Jackson’s eyes. “No. She deserves better than being the other half of a monster’s soul.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “You don’t know what I’m dealing with. None of you do,” Caine spat out.

  “But I know what she’s dealing with. And you’re running out of time.”

  “That’s the idea.” Caine laughed bitterly. “Opal said I can starve the hellhound out. It shouldn’t be long now—”

  “And you think Meaghan’s just going to sit around waiting for you to half-kill yourself?”

  Caine froze.

  Jackson swore and sat down on the rock he’d been kicking. “I can’t turn into some sort of amazing creature, or fly, or read minds or any of that shit, so I’ve been sitting on my ass doing the only thing that’s left. Checking records. Accommodation, rentals—and bus tickets.” He shot Caine a hard look. “Meaghan’s planning to leave the day after Christmas. She hasn’t told anyone.”

  “She wouldn’t just run away without saying anything.” Unease stirred in Caine’s bones. Slinking off without a fight wasn’t like Meaghan. He might not have known her long, but he knew that much.

  “Why not? It’s what I’m doing. When the deepest part of someone’s soul tells you to fuck off, what other choice do you have?” He grimaced. “Or when that part of a person’s soul wants you to stay, but the person is trying to get rid of it, and you too. Fuck it. I don’t know why I even came out here. But you have a chance, and…” His voice trailed off. “That’s more than most of us get.”

  Jackson didn’t know why he hated his hellhound, Caine realized. He’d told the Heartwells about Angus, but not anyone else.

  Not Meaghan.

  “Just talk to her?” Jackson’s voice was pleading.

  Caine swallowed. “I’ll think about it.”

  Jackson groaned and stood up. “Like Meaghan told Olly she’d think about throwing you into the back of her truck again. You two really are a match.”

  “If I get rid of my hellhound—”

  Jackson waved a hand tiredly. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” He looked out over the frozen lake at the end of the track that Caine and Hank had cleared. “Meaghan thought the ghost gang was trying to ruin Christmas. God knows why they’re really here, but if that was their goal, then they’ve managed it.”

  He trod off back through the trees, shoulders hunched.

  Caine glanced back along the track. He knew he should go after Hank, see if there was anything else needed doing—but not yet.

  He’d thought the last thing he needed was time alone. But maybe that was wrong.

  Caine sighed and trudged over to the lakeside. He could see exactly why Bob had wanted this part of the track cleared. Sweetheart Lake was beautiful. This must be one of the most popular stops in the short dogsled rides that Puppy Express ran for visitors.

  There was a small picnic table with a view across the frozen lake that was the perfect spot for a group of friends to stop and chat, or kids to have a snowball fight to let off some energy, or a couple to—

  His hellhound shivered and Caine’s jaw tensed. For a couple to do the sort of things Meaghan and I might be doing, if I hadn’t…

  His shoulders slumped. If I didn’t have a hellhound lodged inside my soul. If I was the man I used to be.

  …If I hadn’t driven her off.

  Caine sat down at the picnic table and ran his fingers through his hair.

  What am I supposed to do?

  The forest was completely silent. He held his head in his hands and stared out across the lake.

  Jackson had cut straight to the heart of it. Caine had been holding onto the hope that once he was free of his hellhound, he could go and beg Meaghan’s forgiveness.

  But why would she want anything to do with him, after the way he’d treated her? He’d as good as told her in front of everyone that he’d rather kill part of himself than be with her.

  His hellhound whined and curled itself into a tighter ball. It hid its face under its massive front paws, obscuring its burning eyes and the smoke coiling out of its jaws.

  He prodded it warily, expecting it to snap at him, but it didn’t. It wasn’t angry, or grinding its teeth, or laying low while it planned anything.

  It hurt.

  He prodded it again. In all the time he’d known it, his hellhound had never been like this. Furious, or suspicious, or exultant with its evil glee at chasing people, but never this gray, listless hurt.

  It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for it.

  What about you? Don’t you want to go to her?

  If it jumped at the thought, if it started talking about hunting or chasing or anything of those overwhelming urges that had taught Caine to fear it, that would remind him how dangerous it was. It would be the evidence
he needed to stay far, far away from Meaghan.

  But it only whined again.

  She hates us, it whimpered. Stay away.

  Caine’s heart felt hollow. Even his hellhound had given up.

  Something buzzed in his pocket. It took him a moment to recognize it as his phone, and another to realize what it meant.

  He fumbled it out of his pocket and swore. With his gloves on he could hardly hold the phone, let alone answer it.

  The name on the caller ID made his heart leap. Angus Parker.

  When Angus hadn’t returned his call, Caine had given up hope that his old friend wanted anything to do with him. Worse, he’d feared Angus was suffering under the same curse as him—and that it was Caine’s fault.

  But now he was calling back and if Caine could just get his damned gloves off in time to—

  The call cut off just as he dropped one glove and tried to swipe to answer it. Caine swore under his breath and tried to call back, but it went straight to voicemail.

  Caine tried to be patient. He watched his phone like a hawk, waiting for another call. When his phone buzzed again, though, it was with a series of text messages.

  Caine! Buddy! Long time no see. Figured you were off on some self-discovery bullshit after you disappeared. What was it? Mexico? Thailand? Can’t wait to hear all about it!

  Caine breathed a sigh of relief. That was the Angus he remembered. Always positive.

  And… unless he was trying to keep it off the written record, there was no sign he remembered that Caine had transformed into a monstrous hellhound and attacked him. Caine’s gut twisted with guilt at the relief he felt.

  His phone buzzed again.

  Your desk’s still waiting for you back here. Hope you’re not expecting back pay for your surprise sabbatical though. That last case you were on fell through after you disappeared. You wouldn’t recognize that neighborhood if you walked through it now!

  A pit formed in Caine’s stomach.

  That case had been done. He’d gathered all the information he needed for his clients to take the property sharks who’d preyed on them to court. And more.

  The clients were a group of homeowners who claimed they’d been scammed by a property developer. Angus had thought they were just angry at getting a poor deal, and he’d tossed the case to Caine to sort out.

  What Caine had discovered had been almost impressive, if you’d been the sort of person to be impressed by rich assholes lying, threatening, and cheating hard-working families out of everything they owned.

  He’d been obsessed with taking them down. Especially once he discovered that this wasn’t the first neighborhood that had been targeted in this way.

  I had everything we needed to take them down. What happened?

  Bitterness flooded Caine’s mouth. What sort of a question was that? His hellhound had happened.

  He’d attacked Angus. Even if Angus had rationalized the attack away as a hallucination, he wouldn’t have been up to taking over Caine’s abandoned case. And Caine had disappeared.

  He had let his clients down.

  I won’t let that happen here.

  A few minutes ago, Caine had asked himself what he was meant to do now. Well, now he knew. The people of Pine Valley were under attack, the same as his clients had been under attack last Christmas. Except while they were being targeted by property sharks, Pine Valley’s enemy was a pack of monsters.

  Caine wouldn’t risk getting his hellhound involved. But this sort of thing used to be his bread and butter, damn it. And he knew that to stop the hellhounds from attacking Pine Valley, he’d have to find out why they were here in the first place.

  He stood up, determination giving him an energy he thought he’d lost when he lost Meaghan. As he regained his bearings, he caught sight of something under the snow.

  It looked like a mailbox.

  Meaghan said something the Puppy Express delivering letters by dogsled.

  The memory made his chest ache, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking over and brushing snow off the top of the box. As though touching it would bring him closer to her.

  There were two boxes. One mailbox, and one crate that he opened to find a pile of postcards and ballpoint pens wrapped in a waterproof sack. Caine rifled through them. The cards were all Christmas-themed, which made sense; he flicked past almost painfully jolly pictures of Santas, dancing Christmas trees, and elves who were probably going to be nursing a hangover the next day. Then one picture jumped out at him and he stopped.

  This postcard was more obviously Puppy Express branded than the others. The front of the postcard had a picture of a dogsled team. The dogs were dressed up for Christmas, with glowing red noses and reindeer antlers. A glittery message read:

  This Christmas, send your love by the Puppy Express!

  Caine’s heart lodged in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, and his eyes watered. He squeezed them tight as his hellhound howled.

  Then his eyes sprang open. His hellhound was miserable. He was miserable. He was letting Meaghan think he’d abandoned her and he couldn’t risk seeing her, not while his hellhound was still lurking just behind his eyes… but a postcard?

  I can’t let her leave without knowing how I feel. And that I’m doing all of this, investigating the hellhounds… for her.

  He grabbed a pen and wrote a few words that tore at his heart. By the time he finished, his pulse was racing and his bones felt hollow, as though he’d wrung out his soul onto the page.

  Caine thrust the card into the mailbox before he could change his mind. The he spun on his heel and spent the walk back to the Puppy Express building telling himself over and over what a bad idea it had been.

  It wasn’t until later that he realized he’d not only read Angus’ messages without setting his hellhound off, but replied as well. When he did think of it, he thought it was a good thing.

  His hellhound was getting weaker. Maybe, by the time he’d solved the mystery of the hellhounds attacked Pine Valley, it would be gone for good.

  20

  Meaghan

  CHRISTMAS EVE

  This isn’t so bad, Meaghan lied to herself. The ghost gang haven’t done anything since they ran off with the Santa sleigh. There’s even a few last-minute visitors around—a corporate group instead of happy families, sure, but they’ve got money to burn. Or credit cards, at least. Bob’s stopped going pale every time he looks at the Puppy Express bank books.

  Maybe Christmas isn’t ruined after all.

  Or not for everyone.

  Just you.

  She was sitting in the Puppy Express dog truck. Her bus ticket was burning a hole in her pocket. One person, one-way. No long goodbyes and no looking back, just her and a backpack of clothes and another town on the horizon that had no idea what was about to hit them.

  She was selling her own truck. She wanted to make it as hard as possible for her to come back to Pine Valley, just in case she lost her mind and wanted to come back.

  “Meaghan!”

  Meaghan jumped and put a protective hand over her jacket pocket as Olly called out to her. “Yeah?”

  “We’re ready for the dogs now!”

  “Okay!”

  Olly and Bob, and half the town’s business owners and community groups, were gathered in a parking lot on the outskirts of town to prepare for that evening’s Santa parade. Since Pine Valley was a small, rural town, most of the “floats” were decorated trucks or snowmobiles. The Puppy Express Santa sleigh was going to bring up the rear, with Bob dressed as Santa Claus and Olly dressed up as one of his elves.

  Meaghan had had to reevaluate her idea of Olly as “chill”. Over the last two days, she’d been dragged out to check every inch of the route the parade would take into town.

  Just in case, Olly had said. In case of what, Meaghan wasn’t entirely clear. It wasn’t like the ghost gang had raised their heads; and they wouldn’t dare attack the parade, anyway. Their whole thing was scaring people while they were on their own
and vulnerable, and the whole town was going to show up for the Santa parade. Everyone who hadn’t decided to spend the holiday elsewhere, anyway.

  The air outside was crisp. Meaghan breathed it in. One thing she would miss about Pine Valley—okay, one of many—was the fresh air. And the way the stars stretched all the way across the sky on clear nights.

  “And you too, doofuses,” she cooed as she trudged to the back of the truck and let the dogs out of their boxes one by one. “Come on. Let’s get you kitted up and on the sleigh.”

  She knew she was going to miss almost everything about this place, and its people. But it wasn’t enough to make her stay. Not when every breath of crisp air, or glimmer of starlight, or goofy doggy grin reminded her of Caine.

  First, though, she had to get through the Santa parade.

  “What do you think?” Olly pushed her way through the mob of dogs and did a quick twirl.

  “Very Christmassy.” Olly was wearing a short green tunic with white fuzzy trim, candy-striped stockings and a red hat with a pom-pom on the end. To Meaghan’s surprise, given how stressed she’d been about the parade route, Olly was smiling.

  “What about you? I hope you’ve got some party clothes on under than coat. Or… maybe you have other plans for after the parade?”

  It was impossible to miss the hope in Olly’s voice. Meaghan bit back a sigh. Olly wasn’t just convinced that Meaghan was going to storm up the mountain and bully Caine into taking her back; she seemed to think that Meaghan and Caine getting together would somehow make up for her and Jackson not working out.

  Meaghan didn’t have the heart to tell her that not only was she not planning to storm up anywhere, she was leaving town.

  “I’ve got plans, yeah,” she said, which didn’t really count as a lie. It was just that her plans involved packing her running-away bag, not chasing down true love. “What about you? Are you going to the Heartwell party?”

  “Pine Valley’s biggest shifter Christmas party? A few days after I broke a poor non-shifter-boy’s heart?” Olly’s smile dropped. “I have to help Uncle Bob with the Puppy Express deliveries. And after that… I don’t know. Jackson might be there…”

 

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