Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel)

by Nancy Holzner

  “I won’t be more than a couple of minutes,” I said.

  “Take your time.” She disappeared down a hallway. A door closed.

  Kane has a special prepaid phone, registered under a false name, for emergencies—like now. I pressed *67 to mask Kaysi’s number and called the emergency phone. As I dialed, I thought about what Kaysi had said. Her simple love of animals had convinced her I wasn’t a killer. I only wished I could be as certain.

  KANE PICKED UP ON THE FIRST RING. “ARE YOU SAFE?”

  “For now.”

  “Good. Don’t tell me where you are.” He didn’t have to explain why. If he didn’t know where I was, he wouldn’t have to lie about it to the cops. “Vicky, that botched raid is all over the news. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was in the van, listening over the two-way radio. Something went wrong . . . there was a scream. So I went in. But when I reached the fighting . . . I blacked out. When I came to, it looked like a slaughterhouse. Kane, the whole team was dead.”

  “And you don’t remember anything at all about the fight?”

  I told him the parts I did remember—the bodies in the hallway, the surge of power in my demon mark, the fragments of combat.

  The silence lengthened. “I wish you’d kept me in the loop,” he said finally.

  “I intended to. I went to your office, but you’d gone home to sleep, and I remembered how tired you said you were. I didn’t want to interrupt your rest before . . . you know, tonight.”

  Another pause, longer, hung between us. So much was packed into that one little word, tonight. The first night of the full moon. Kane’s transformation into a hellhound. The Night Hag on the hunt for me.

  “All right,” Kane said. “Get me up to speed now. Tell me everything that happened since I last saw you.”

  “I got a tip about where Pryce and the Old Ones were holding Tina.”

  “A tip from whom?”

  “Butterfly.”

  “That damn guilt demon,” he growled. “And you trusted it?”

  “The tip was good. I’ve told you before—Eidolons can’t lie.”

  “But they can manipulate. You told me that, too.”

  It was true. And that was exactly what I’d been afraid of—that Butterfly was leading me into a trap set by Pryce. The next time that Eidolon dared to show its damn face, I’d kill it. No truces, no niceness. Just one dead demon.

  “As I said, the tip was good. And Tina’s life was at stake.” Fear gripped me. “Do you know what happened to her? Is she safe?”

  “There’s been nothing about her in the news. Details are sketchy. So far, all the reporting is focusing on the SWAT team casualties. And you.” And me. I wished finding out what had happened was as easy as turning on the news. “All, right, so the demon gave you this tip. Then what?”

  “After I stopped at your office, I checked out the site. I talked to a neighbor. I called Daniel, and he organized the raid. He couldn’t be on site because of the virus threat.”

  “Wait, what virus threat?”

  There had been nothing on the news about the factory being a suspected plague virus lab. The authorities might cover up that information to prevent a panic—I’d seen them do that before. But they’d also have come up with a reason to keep humans away. According to Kane’s description, and confirmed by the newspaper photo on Kaysi’s table, cops and journalists swarmed over the site.

  So the biohazard team hadn’t found any virus.

  My eye on the clock, I resumed my narrative. “Daniel emphasized I was there as a consultant—not to fight. So after I debriefed the team, I waited in the van, until I heard that scream.”

  Kane didn’t speak, but I knew what he was thinking as clearly as if the phone could broadcast his thoughts. He was thinking that once again, I had to go rushing in. And yes, he was right. If someone was in trouble and I could help, I did have to go rushing in. It’s part of who I am.

  But today, “who I am” felt like a wide-open question. Had I helped those cops? Or had I sent them to their deaths? Even worse, had I been the one to kill them?

  “I saw Pryce,” I said.

  “During the raid?”

  “After. When I blacked out I ended up in Limbo somehow, and Pryce was there, waiting. He . . . he told me the Destroyer possesses me now. That its power makes me kill without caring what I destroy. He said that’s what happened to the SWAT team.” At that moment, the full horror of Pryce’s claim hit me, really hit me, for the first time. “He said I killed them, Kane. And he said I’ll keep killing.” My voice couldn’t make it through the last sentence without cracking.

  For so long, I’d fought the Destroyer, pushed down the rage it created in me. But the Hellion had grown stronger, and I was so tired. Maybe Pryce had a point. Maybe some part of me did want to quit struggling and give in.

  I stifled a sob. My greatest fear—and it was coming true.

  “Vicky, listen to me. I know you. I’ve seen the Destroyer’s hold on you, yes. But I’ve also seen how hard you fight. How deep your reserves are. You are stronger. Do you hear me? You are stronger.”

  The certainty in his voice, his unshakable belief in me, touched me inside. Something small and tight stirred, like a long-buried seed groping toward a hint of warmth in the frozen ground. I wasn’t sure Kane was right. In fact, I greatly feared he was wrong. But he believed his words, and that meant something. It meant a lot.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I want so badly to hold you right now. This wasn’t how I pictured saying good-bye, not today.” The frustration in his voice shifted into something else. “But you stay strong, my love. Stay strong, and . . . and tonight I’ll do my best to do the same.”

  I nodded, tears running down my face, knowing he couldn’t see and yet knowing he understood.

  35

  BEFORE WE HUNG UP, KANE SAID MAB WANTED TO SPEAK with me.

  “Mab’s there?” Surprise gave me back my voice.

  “I’m at your apartment. I figured you’d get in touch if you could—call me or your home phone, or contact Mab using that dream-phone thing you do. However you managed it, I wanted to be there.”

  I didn’t have words for the feelings that swelled in my chest. So instead, I asked him to put Mab on.

  “We probably won’t talk again,” he said. Tonight was the full moon, and he had to travel to the werewolf retreat in Princeton. “I’ll leave this phone with your aunt. And Vicky . . .” His voice wavered. “Please know that, whatever happens, I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I whispered. “Whatever happens.”

  A moment later, Mab’s brisk voice took over the line. “Victory, child, are you all right?”

  “I am.” I cleared my throat. Now wasn’t the time to give way to mushy feelings. “I’m recovering from a shift. Vicky Vaughn went into the Old Ones’ hideout, but a feral cat came running out.”

  “It must have been a desperate situation.”

  “It was.” I briefly repeated what I’d told Kane, bringing Mab up to speed on yesterday’s events. “A kind animal lover gave me a saucer of milk and a bed for the night. And this person barely blinked an eye when I shifted back to my usual form.”

  “Can you stay out of sight until this evening?”

  “I’ll manage.” I wasn’t going to take advantage of Kaysi’s hospitality—after all, I was a fugitive from justice. I’d find another place to hide. Boston had no shortage of empty buildings.

  “See that you do. I’ve contacted the Night Hag. You’re to give her the falcon tonight.”

  “Where?”

  “Your photo was all over the news by late afternoon, so I knew the exchange couldn’t take place here. And, needless to say, the witches your Mr. Kane hired for protection are suddenly unavailable. At any rate, I asked Mallt-y-Nos to suggest a spot. We’re meeting there at midnight. Do you know a place called . . .” In the pause I could hear papers rustle. “Fenway Park?”

  “The baseball stadium?”


  “Oh, is that what it is? I assumed it was some sort of green space.”

  Green space. If that’s what you want to call the Green Monster, the green-painted, thirty-seven-foot-high wall that flanks left field. I flipped through the paper. There wasn’t a game tonight. But how were we supposed to get inside?

  We’d figure it out as we went.

  “Can you find your way there?” I asked.

  “Certainly.” Mab’s tone could have been either amusement or annoyance. It was hard to tell without seeing her expression.

  “If you need a map, Juliet can print one out from her computer.”

  “For heaven’s sake, child, don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself. Rest if you can. Meditate. Focus on staying pure; it will give you strength. I’ll meet you at Fenway Park at eleven.”

  I still didn’t like it. If Mab got lost, or if I ran into a problem, neither of us would have a way to contact the other. The dream phone wasn’t an option while we were both awake.

  “I really think you should have Juliet print you out a map. Tell her to mark Gate A on Yawkey Way. I’ll meet you there.”

  “All right.” This time, Mab’s sigh made it clear she was more than a little annoyed by my concerns. “Although honestly, you’d do well to remember that I’ve had three centuries of experience in getting from one place to another.” Her tone softened, but there was steel beneath it. “And Victory . . . do listen to what Mr. Kane said. The Destroyer is strong, but you are stronger. You can draw on that strength whenever you choose, but you must believe in it. Ponder that today.”

  I promised her I would, and we said good-bye.

  “Thanks, Kaysi,” I called down the hallway as I hung up the phone.

  She appeared a moment later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. “I hope these will fit,” she said, cocking her head as she inspected me. “You’re a little taller than I am. Skinnier, too.”

  “They’ll be fine. I really appreciate it.”

  “I have to get ready for work. Feel free to eat some breakfast and make more calls. After I’m gone, you can take a shower, grab a nap on the couch—whatever you need. Just be sure to lock the door if you leave.”

  “If there’s anything I can do to repay you . . .”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just do whatever’s necessary to find out what happened. When I see in the paper that you’ve cleared your name, I’ll be proud I helped.”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I held out my arms to accept the stack of clothes.

  “Good luck,” Kaysi said. She turned and went back down the hall. A door closed, and the shower started running.

  A box of cereal stood on the table. I poured myself a bowl and refreshed my coffee. There was milk in the fridge, of course. Kaysi kept a good supply for any hungry cats that might wander by.

  As I ate, I thought about Mab’s advice. Meditate. Focus on being pure. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t marked by a Hellion. Ten years ago, the Destroyer had touched me with its essence. I’d struggled to control it, and often I’d succeeded, but never had I been able to push it out. Over time, that essence had infected my own, intertwining with it like ivy creeping up a brick wall, insinuating itself, claiming a stronger, deeper hold, weakening the mortar until it crumbles and the wall collapses.

  From the newspaper on the table, my own face stared at me. What if that disastrous SWAT raid had been my collapse?

  That’s what Pryce wanted me to believe.

  But, damn it, who said Pryce got to define me? I didn’t know what happened. I searched my memory for some clue. Sifting through images, I worked my way back, past my hours as a prowling cat, past my encounter with Pryce in Limbo. I focused on the moment I’d stood in the hallway, sword drawn, ready for a fight.

  A fight with whom? I’d rushed into the building to defend the SWAT team. To drive back any Old Ones who threatened them. But what had been my intention when I threw myself into the fight? To protect—or to destroy?

  My mind wouldn’t go there. Each time I tried to picture myself stepping into the room where the SWAT team struggled with the Old Ones, blackness descended like the curtain falling prematurely on a play. I tried to peer through that darkness, but it was no use. My memory stayed stubbornly blank.

  Although I couldn’t picture the scene, I could almost remember a voice. Not shouting and grunting, as you’d expect in a fight, but murmuring. Indistinct, it gently probed the edges of my consciousness, searching for a way in. There were words, so soft and muffled I couldn’t make them out.

  The Destroyer, urging me on? Possibly, but it didn’t feel that way. The Destroyer was pure rage. This voice was softer, and the tone was . . . I couldn’t pin it down, but it felt more like a question than a command. Gentle, cajoling. Not brutal or harsh. Yet the sounds also thrummed with power, like lightning contained in a silken box.

  I strained to listen, to recognize the voice, to make out the words. My efforts yielded nothing but a headache. I shouldn’t try so hard so soon after shifting back to my human form. I blinked, focusing on the spoon in my hand. It was lifted halfway to my mouth, the bowl filled with soggy cereal. I raised the spoon and swallowed the cereal, even though I no longer felt hungry. Mab was right. I needed to recover from the shift. I’d fill my stomach, clean up, and rest. Maybe then I’d have the strength to figure out what had happened.

  By the time Kaysi entered the kitchen, dressed and ready for work, I’d eaten a second bowl of cereal.

  “I’m usually home before six,” she said, pulling on her jacket, “but tonight I was going to meet some friends after work. I can cancel if you think you’ll need my help.”

  Again I marveled at her belief in me, a complete stranger. “Don’t change your plans for my sake. I’ll be gone long before you finish work.”

  “Well, be careful. With your picture in the paper and probably all over TV, too, someone might recognize you. Just remember: You can stay here as long as you like.”

  “Thanks, Kaysi.” I wasn’t sure yet where I’d go, but I wouldn’t impinge on her kindness any more than I had to.

  “There’s one other thing. But you have to promise you won’t say no.”

  I’ve never been able to make a promise without knowing what it was, so I just stared at her.

  “I know you don’t have any money, so I want you to take this.” She held out a twenty dollar bill. “If you want, we’ll consider it a loan.”

  “Kaysi, I—”

  “Take it.” She shook the bill at me. “You’ll be doing me a favor. If I’m worrying about you out there without a cent, I won’t be able to concentrate at work. You wouldn’t want me to get fired, would you?”

  I met Kaysi’s eyes—blue and shining with sincerity—as I wordlessly accepted the bill. “Thanks,” I repeated. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. For everything.”

  She shrugged like everything she’d done for me was no big deal. “Whenever. You know, there have been times in my life when things got hard and I wished somebody would give me a break, even a little one. Usually nobody does. So I’m happy I can do that for you.” She glanced at the wall clock. “I’d better get to work.”

  She was out the door before I could thank her one more time.

  I WAS IN THE SHOWER WHEN IT OCCURRED TO ME THAT THE cops might arrive at any moment. What if Kaysi had pretended to help me so she could call the police as soon as she was safely away from the house?

  The thought had barely formed before shame washed over me, hotter than the water that stung my skin. Was that how my mind worked—automatically assuming that anyone who helped me couldn’t wait to turn around and stab me in the back?

  I didn’t believe Kaysi would turn me in. Even so, I hurried through my shower and got dressed quickly. With a little concentration, I was able to change my shape so the borrowed clothes fit. Not a full-blown shift—after last night, I was out of those until the other side of the full moon—but a trick that lets me alter the dimensions of my usual form. It�
��s great for those days when putting on my jeans requires extra tugging. Now, I focused on making my body fit the dimensions of the faded jeans and gray T-shirt Kaysi had given me. I checked the mirror. The effect was good. My face was a little fuller, and I’d lost a couple inches of height. My features, hairstyle, and hair color were still my own, but the change in build might be enough of a disguise for me to move around Boston unnoticed. I certainly hoped so. I had hours to get through before tonight’s showdown.

  MORE WARMTH AND SUNSHINE. IT WAS THE KIND OF GLORIOUS spring day that rewards Bostonians for enduring the long winters. I bought some cheap sunglasses and a baseball cap at a dollar store. Nobody looked at me twice as I roamed around the city. For a while, I rode the subways, hiding behind a Boston Globe someone had left on a seat. I left the T at Copley Square and tried to grab a nap in the public library, but I’d barely closed my eyes before a librarian rapped on the table and whispered, “No sleeping.” So I moved on to Boston Common, where I lay down on the grass in some shade, threw my arm over my eyes and slept for the better part of an hour. But sleeping in the open isn’t easy, especially when an entire police force is looking for you, so again I moved on.

  The afternoon passed in a blur of coffee shops, bus-stop benches, and window-shopping. Not wanting to be seen and having no place to hide is a bad combination. Still, on the crowded streets no one regarded me with suspicion.

  Fast-food burgers for both lunch and dinner gave me indigestion but helped me stretch out my funds. If not for those twenty dollars, my day would have much harder—and hungrier. Once this was all over, I’d definitely do something nice for Kaysi.

  Assuming I lived to see morning.

  I SPENT THE LAST TWO HOURS BEFORE MY RENDEZVOUS with Mab at the Boston University student union. It wasn’t far from Fenway, and nobody cared if you slept there. In fact, sleeping with an open book on one’s lap seemed a popular activity.