by Justin Sloan
HOUNDS OF GOD
Cursed Night Book 1
Justin Sloan
www.JustinSloanAuthor.com
DEDICATION
From Justin
To Ugulay, Verona and Brendan Sloan
My friends who are awesome and still don’t believe I’m writing
And to MY FANS! NEW AND OLD, YOU’RE AMAZING!
HOUNDS OF GOD
Cursed Night Team
Beta Editor / Readers
Sherry Foster
Melissa Ratcliffe
If I missed anyone, please let me know!
Editors
Diane Newton
Hounds of God (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
The Cursed Night series (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds)
is Copyright (c) 2016 by Justin Sloan
Complete Book is Copyright (c) 2016 by Justin Sloan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Justin Sloan
Cursed Night titles include only this book and NIGHT’S CURSE, for now – more to come! Night’s Curse is a short story prequel, which I have included here as a prologue.
Other Books by Justin Sloan
FALLS OF REDEMPTION (Trilogy)
Land of Gods
Retribution Calls
Tears of Devotion
RECLAIMING HONOR (A Kurtherian Gambit Series)
Justice is Calling
Honor is Claimed (Dec 30)
[more to come]
MODERN NECROMANCY (Trilogy)
Death Marked
Death Bound
Death Crowned
ALLIE STROM (Trilogy)
Allie Strom and the Ring of Solomon
Allie Strom and the Sword of the Spirit
Allie Strom and the Tenth Worthy
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For a chance to see ALL of Justin’s different Book Series
Check out his website below!
Website: http://JustinSloanAuthor.com
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Prologue: Nine Years Ago
KATHERINE NEVER WANTED THE MOMENT TO END, that Christmas Eve. Years later she would look back with restless yearning for that night. But not for the next morning.
Thirteen-year-old Katherine giggled on the couch beside her father. A thick blue snuggly wrapped around him, giving the impression of a fat wizard. She laughed again and pointed at the ridiculous getup. He smiled back with a wink. His white hair was momentarily highlighted purple from the lights on the trim outside the window. Frosty the Snowman blared from the kitchen, escaping into the living room along with the scent of cinnamon and cloves.
Katherine let her eyes slip to the silver and gold sparkling Christmas tree near the door. Presents lay piled underneath, stockings hung along the wall on the other side of the door.
“More than one this year?” she said with a hopeful side-glance at the presents, the kind she knew he always fell for.
Her mother entered with a tray of gingerbread cookies. “Don’t let her sweet talk you, not this year.”
“She has plenty of presents,” her father replied.
“Dear….”
Howard shrugged at Katherine. “Sorry, honey, your mother has sweets.”
Katherine poked her father’s belly. “Sold me out for him again, huh?”
They all laughed as her father reached for two cookies – one for him and one for Katherine.
Of course she got her way, and after opening a stuffed dog that she felt too grown up for, and a book she had never heard of, they sat among the wrapping paper and watched “It’s a Wonderful Life,” because they never missed it on Christmas Eve. Soon Katherine found herself yawning, and her mom agreed to tuck her into bed.
“Don’t go,” Katherine said.
“Santa will be here soon.”
Katherine yawned. Such fantasies had left her imagination long ago. “Give me a break.”
“You’ll see, if you’re good just one more night.”
Katherine giggled as her mom rubbed noses. “Mom, stop it.”
“Too grown up for that now?”
Her mom smiled for longer than seemed natural, then reached for Katherine’s shoulder. Katherine cringed, but her mom soothed her by brushing a hand against her forehead. She moved aside the cloth and cringed.
“It really is getting better though,” her mother said as she assessed the scar Katherine knew was there but didn’t want to see. The scar from a camping trip in September. A dog or something had leapt from the shadows and bit her. Oddly, it had stopped then and paused to sniff her before retreating into the darkness. Her parents had found her screaming, but by the time they got her to the hospital the bleeding had stopped and, as unbelievable as the doctor said it was, had already begun to scab. She dreaded returning to school and being made fun of, but the scar wasn’t revealed as long as she didn’t wear a tank-top. Being in Seattle, she didn’t have to worry about the weather being too warm, and she often had to wear a sweater.
Katherine pulled away and covered the scar, avoiding her mother’s gaze.
Her mother moved to the door and paused by the light switch. “Sweet dreams, my little angel.”
Katherine smiled sleepily and her eyes closed. She dreamed of the Christmas last year, lying beside the tree after a full breakfast, her presents surrounding her, a glass of eggnog half-drunk in her hand. She didn’t have any cousins to celebrate with, no siblings either, and her grandparents lived three hours south, in Oregon. But she always loved spending time with her parents, the blessing that was Christmas, the only time her father seemed to be able to escape his job at the pound. This year’s expectations were especially high.
The next morning she awoke to bright sunlight escaping through the cracks in her blinds. The fresh air of Christmas morning filled the room. The brum-pum-pum-pum from The Little Drummer Boy beat in her head she smiled, cozily, but then a shooting pain went through her head—a brief memory of a dream in the night. It was dark, flashes of red, snarling teeth.
She shook her head and pushed the memory away, and hten jumped out of bed and ran to the living room.
She knew Santa didn’t exist, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t bring her some goodies in her stocking. Sure enough, her stocking was especially lumpy and she knelt down to dump its contents on the floor.
Before her lay chocolates, a tangerine, and a new Christmas ornament. She always looked forward to the Christmas ornament, wondering what her parents would find for her – this year it was Santa with a dog in his lap. She had always wanted a dog, all those days visiting the pound, the dogs looking at her as if they were long lost friends. The best of friends. She wondered if this was a hint that it was forthcoming.
She stood and her foot sloshed in the dampness. She turned with a smile, ready to hang the ornament on the tree—
—and screamed!
Her father’s body lay on the drenched carpet, a mangled mess, his skin torn and chunks of flesh missing – blood everywhere. Katherine felt the panic overtake her. Her skin tightened around her bones and her chest collapsed in with her lungs. The room seemed to shudder. A thought struck her. Mom!
S
he ran for her mother’s open door, but froze halfway. A pair of legs, certainly her mother’s, lay past the door in a puddle of blood. Katherine stumbled back, her voice catching in an attempted scream. Bile soured her tongue. She felt for the walls, reaching for balance as she began to hyperventilate.
A creak came from the open front door and sent tremors through Katherine’s nerves. She turned and sprinted through the hall and into her bedroom. She slammed her door shut with both hands and then stared at the red contrast of flaky blood on her hands against the white door. Blood caked under her fingernails. Stumbling back, she caught herself against the window sill and retched.
Wiping her mouth with her sheet, she looked back to the door, at the red hand prints and then down at her own hands again. Only then did she notice the tear marks in her pants, and shirt.
None of it made sense.
The only thought she could understand at that moment was the overwhelming urge to be away from that metallic stench of death, from the horror in the other room.
She ran to the window and pushed, but her hands slid along its sleek surface and she fell. With determination she stood. Amid screams and tears, she pushed again. The window opened and she pulled herself up and over, into the back yard. The morning dew dampened her pajamas; the sunlight sparkled on the deep green grass. In the distance, across the field, the tree line she had so often played in with her school friends now seemed the only place to go. It became her sanctuary, her means of escape. She forced everything into her muscles as she pushed for those trees, as if entering the shadows of those hemlocks would make everything go away.
She never seemed to stop running. The sun set and rose, and Katherine continued on. She ran from it all, hiding under stairwells at night and finding food where strangers would give it. Her mind was torn, confused, betrayed. Part of her knew there was only one answer to what had happened…
…The blood on her fingernails.
…The torn clothes.
…Her parents mutilated.
…And the dreams, the horrible, terrifying dreams.
She knew that somehow there was a monster in her, a monster that had killed her parents. But it wasn’t confirmed until one night when the moon rose to reveal a perfect circle, a full moon, and that’s when it happened—that’s when she first became aware of the transformation.
It started as a burning in her nostrils, until the scent of the dirt inches from her face overwhelmed her, surging through her insides. Her eyes stung, pulsing as if they would pop. As she screamed, her skin seemed to be tearing away from her flesh. She opened her eyes to see only black and white. Long hairs had sprouted on the backs of her hands. She scratched at the hairs to get them off, but her fingernails had become claws and her scratching pulled blood. The burning and the pain surged and she screamed as loud as she could, her back arching and her muscles clenching…
…then everything went black.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed during that blackout, or what she had done. Over the following weeks, she avoided contact with people whenever possible. How could she look someone in the eye after what she was now sure she had done? The myths of the werewolf were no longer in question, neither was the rumor of them being born on Christmas day. But her thoughts didn’t dwell long on this; they were too consumed with guilt over the death of her parents. The memory of their mutilation ate at her night and day.
Two weeks after the horrible night of her transformation, she found herself in the unfortunate space of a crowded street. Over her dingy pink pajamas, now dirty gray, she wore an oversized coat someone had given her. She held it over her head to keep off the light rain. People walked by, barely noticing the homeless child.
Her hunger often got the best of her and forced her to roam the streets looking for leftovers, handouts, or, when she was lucky, dropped change. She liked to save up enough for a loaf of bread and then keep the leftovers in her pockets until she really needed them. Last night she had finished off the last of a delicious cinnamon raisin loaf. As she searched the streets wondering what corner to beg on, the best area to avoid the authorities who she had seen taking away another unsupervised child, she almost allowed herself to think she was lucky – a shiny quarter lay in a puddle not far off.
She darted between a fat man in a suit and a woman that, had Katherine been a bit older she would have known, must have been a prostitute. Instead Katherine’s mind focused on the glint of light ahead. She reached for the quarter and almost had it, when someone walked by and kicked it. The coin clinked against the cement not far off, before rolling into another puddle. She took a step after it, but paused. In the reflection of a puddle she saw a man staring at her. Her eyes rose to meet his. She pulled back at the intensity of those eyes, kind as they seemed – a series of scars fell from the upper-left of his face to the lower right.
He smiled the smile of one who’s found their long lost dog.
She turned at this and briskly walked away. She glanced over her shoulder to see him still standing there and watching her, still smiling. He couldn’t be a cop, not looking like that, so why was he watching her? She had heard stories, tales worse than being taken by the cops. She broke into a jog and turned a corner into a side street where she promptly collided with a boy not much older than herself. He stumbled back and caught himself on the white brick wall. His frown, however, faded to a smile when he looked up to see her.
“Watch it,” he said.
She glanced at him, deciding she didn’t like his thick eyebrows and the way his hair stuck straight up. Before turning to go she noticed him pocketing something and a large man at a truck behind him. As she took her first step the boy brushed past her and took off in a jog. She stared, confused, until she heard pounding footsteps behind her.
“You two, not so fast!” a booming voice said from the direction of the large man. He started for her, and she turned to see the boy’s smirk as he disappeared into the crowd and the rain. Before the man’s meaty hands could reach her, she darted after the boy, cursing her luck.
People yelled after the two as they ran, the man close behind. Katherine nearly slipped, then shrieked as her foot hit a puddle and the water covered her leg, but she wasn’t going to get caught for someone else’s mistake. Behind her she heard a woman shriek as the large man shoved people aside and yelled after them, “Thieves!”
It wasn’t fair, she hadn’t done anything! But then again, not much in her life was fair lately. Certainly the discovery that she was some sort of mutation, a werewolf that had likely killed her own parents, that wasn’t lucky. For a moment she thought she had lost the boy, but as she came around the edge of a building she saw his spiky hair disappearing over a wall. She followed, landing on the other side to see the boy hunched on the ground beside her. His eyes rose, wide with surprise, and then narrowed as he stood.
The man appeared behind them and this time Katherine wasn’t waiting to see where the boy went. She sprinted to a fence and then jumped half-way up. Grabbing the chain links and propelling herself up, she almost allowed herself to smile at her skills. The fence shook and she heard the boy’s voice yelling for help.
“Lemme go!” the boy yelled from below and she looked to see that the man had the boy’s shoe.
After a moment’s hesitation, Katherine dropped several links before grabbing hold and kicking out – she grunted at the effort, but was pleased to feel her foot make contact exactly where she expected the man’s head to be. He yelled some obscenity as she and the boy scaled the fence and jumped for a nearby building’s ledge, landing at an open window.
“Little brats!” The deep voice followed them in as they escaped into the window. They entered a vacant building, and quickly found their way out the other side to a deserted street.
“This way,” the boy said as he led her across the street and to a covered parking lot.
He lowered himself over the ledge to drop down to a lower level, and she followed. The rain dripped nearby, blocked from the parkin
g level above them. The boy sat against the wall breathing heavily, while she paced, her energy divided between trying to catch her breath and glaring at him.
“You coulda got us in a lot of trouble,” she said, her chest heaving.
The boy shrugged. “Didn’t though.”
“Yeah, but you coulda!”
“But I didn’t, did I?” He looked her over, as if assessing her worth. “I’m Danny, by the way.”
She couldn’t stop glaring at him as she paced. She wanted to tackle him, to slam him against that cement wall and leave him in the rain. But her curiosity was too strong.
“What’d you take, anyway?”
Danny pulled a wallet from his pocket. “Lunch.”
He stood and walked to the parking lot exit on the far side. “You coming or what?”
Her stomach rumbled. She knew her hatred for Danny would have to be put aside for the moment. She followed him into the restaurant where they sat at a wooden table covered in plates of food. There was cornbread, peas, mashed potatoes, and ribs. She avoided the ribs, and responded to his questioning glance by explaining that she was a vegetarian.
“That so?”
She continued to eat, not paying him much attention. She didn’t look at the rain trickling along the glass windows, or the other customers’ eyes on her filthy clothes. All she cared about was getting food in her belly and ignoring her past. Forgetting that night.
“Have you always been?”
“Huh?”
“A vegetarian.”
She paused in her chewing for a moment, then went on without answering.
“First we gotta get you clothes, better clothes.”
She looked up at him, confused. “First?”
“If we’re going to take care of you.”
