Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4)

by Briana Michaels

  The instant Jack stopped working the spell, Tilly’s body became motionless. Bishop dropped down and cradled Tilly’s head. Wiping the blood from her face, he silently prayed that this was a normal reaction to the magic and they hadn’t accidently fried her brain. “Enough,” he said gruffly. “She can’t take anymore. That spell was killing her.”

  “Fuck, that was fucking scary as fuck,” Tanner scrubbed his face, “Let’s get her inside, it’s freezing out here.”

  Bishop lifted Tilly and cradled her in his arms. When Kalen moved to help him, Bishop snarled, “I’ve got her.” No one else was touching his woman.

  “Is she going to be alright?” Eli asked.

  “Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Jack held the door and everyone filed back into the mansion. “Bloody hell, I knew it was going to be painful, but whatever curse is on her soul is a strong one.”

  “Is there any hope that it worked?” Tanner asked.

  “Hang on,” Jack stopped Bishop from climbing the stairs. It infuriated the Hound because all he wanted to do was clean her up and fix her and protect her from this kind of pain. He stopped when Jack halted only because he, too, wanted to know if it worked.

  Jack lifted her right eyelid and frowned. “Bloody fucking hell.”

  They failed.

  Bishop held Tilly tighter to his chest and climbed the steps. He wanted to put her in his bed, but didn’t. Instead, he brought her into the spare bedroom and placed her carefully on the bed. Her hair was wet and stuck to her face and neck. Gently swiping it away, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Sweetness. I’m so damn sorry.” He kissed her forehead before heading to the linen closet for a washcloth so he could wipe the blood from her nose.

  “Bishop?” Sara’s voice made his heart ricochet. For a second, panic sliced him in two. He knew it was the real Sara standing there with the bottle of water, but he still suffered PTSD from his malanum possession. She’s real. She’s real. She’s real.

  Seeing Sara in his home again did a head job on Bishop. After what that fake ass Sara did to him with her charm and her whisky and her let’s-lure-the-trusting-Hound-away-and-push-malanum-into-his-body trick, could you blame him for spooking easy?

  “Yeah, Sara?”

  She entered the bedroom and handed him the bottle. “It’s laced and ready to go. Jack said to make sure she drinks all of this and,” she handed him a tiny vial, “all of this needs to be consumed with food. Sage dip and lots of carbs, okay?”

  He took the Angel Dust infused water, the vial of whatever the fuck, and nodded.

  “We’re not going anywhere, okay? Not until Valor gets home. So if you need anything, howl. Tanner and Kalen are going to patrol your district while you take care of your girl. Jack’s already crashed on your sofa and Eli’s going to stay with me.

  Bishop didn’t have words. He knew why they weren’t going to leave him alone. It was because they thought him unstable. Maybe he was. If being possessed by evil and killing five innocents didn’t make a man question his sanity, then living with the guilt of knowing there was a possibility that he killed half his pack in the deep dark woods somewhere sure would make one unravel. Don’t get Bishop started on the confusion he faced every time he looked at Tilly.

  This woman couldn’t have come into his life at a more terrible time. It made Bishop want to push her away and at the same time latch onto her because she was a breath of fresh air when he’d suffocated in his personal hell way too long.

  A small whining noise came from the bed. Sara and Bishop both looked down at Tilly and then Sara quietly left the room. She didn’t close the door, thank fuck. The last thing Bishop needed was to be locked into a room at a time like this. He wouldn’t have wanted to break away from Tilly even to open the damn door again so he’d have needed help.

  Christ on a cracker, he was so fucking damaged.

  A Hound should be stronger than this. More solid and confident. Fearless would be nice. Bishop wished he was fearless. But that just wasn’t the case. Fear owned his ass and right now he feared for Tilly.

  She moaned again and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hey,” he whispered softly. “Can you hear me?”

  She nodded a fraction of an inch.

  Bishop leaned in and got to work. “I’m going to put a wet cloth on your face, okay? Your skin is really hot and I just want to wipe it down a little to help you.” It wasn’t a lie. She was burning up like she had a fever, but he also really wanted the blood off her face. It was fucking him all up, seeing her like that.

  Gently, Bishop patted down her forehead and temples, then her cheeks and chin, before finally going for her mouth and under her nose. She didn’t budge or make a peep the whole time he worked on her. “Sweetness, can you open your eyes for me?”

  She cracked her right one open and he saw how glassy it was. Shit. That can’t be good.

  “Did it work?” her voice cracked.

  Popping the cap off the bottle of water, he deflected, “How about you try to sit up and drink this.” Bishop slid his arm behind her shoulders and lifted Tilly to a sitting position so she could drink without choking. The sooner this Angel Dust was in her, the safer she would be. Not that she wasn’t already safe, because he was right here with her and there was no way anything was going to come at her if Bishop was around, but still, extra precautions were great.

  “Drink.” He tipped the bottle back and she took a sip. Some of it trickled down her chin.

  With a weak arm, Tilly grabbed the bottle from him and continued to chug until there was none left. “I’m so thirsty.”

  Nodding, he kept his eyes on her, walked backwards, got to the door and yelled, “Can we get more water up here? She’s awake.” Then Bishop sat on the side of the bed and told himself to not touch her. She might not want that in her fragile state. Or maybe she would? Hell, he didn’t have a goddamn clue.

  “Did it work?” she asked again.

  Bishop wouldn’t be able to avoid the topic forever. “No, Sweetness, I don’t think so.”

  Tilly leaned back against her pillow. Then she started sobbing. Bishop literally felt himself turn into a puddle of helpless sludge. Eli came in carrying a tray of food and more bottles of water. “Sara’s putting in a grocery order to be delivered. You don’t have much in the house, but I was able to make this. Pasta will be good for your girl and I made it with a lighter sauce. As soon as more groceries come, I’ll make her what she needs to counteract any residue left inside her.” His eyes darted to Tilly then back to Bishop, “Rest easy, Hound. She’s a strong one.” He left on that note.

  Bishop stared at the plate of pasta and the smell of garlic and butter made his stomach turn. Tilly managed to stay upright. Damn, she was so strong and resilient.

  “Here, let me do it,” Bishop curled fettuccini noodles around the fork tongs slowly. Next, he blew on the pasta so it wouldn’t be too hot for her, then he fed Tilly. She was either too shaken or too exhausted to argue with him, so he was able to feed her. Bishop was a grateful son-of-a-bitch he could do this tiny thing for her. Especially since he hadn’t been able to do anything else to help her out.

  She chewed the food slowly, tears welling in her eyes. Tilly’s tears would likely cause him to shatter. He looked down and concentrated on twirling the stupid pasta.

  “I knew it wouldn’t work,” she said after swallowing more water.

  Bishop held the fork out and kept his focus on her chin, not her eyes. He saw her tremble and it made his heart clench. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, please don’t cry.

  “I had to try though. For a minute…” Tilly took the bite and chewed while talking, “I actually thought that if it hurt that bad it might work. You know how they say no pain, no gain. But there was a point when I realized it really wasn’t going to happen and I just wanted it to be over.”

  He couldn’t imagine the level of pain she tolerated on that fucking lawn. Bishop cleared his dry throat and twirled more noodles. When she sniffled, his gaze
snapped to hers and he clenched his jaw tightly shut. Pretty sure he cracked a tooth in the process too.

  Tilly exhaled loudly and snatched the fork from Bishop’s hand. The Hound sat there stunned speechless as she shoveled another forkful into her mouth. Tilly ate like this was normal. Other than the tears she wiped away, no one would have ever guessed she’d just gone through something horrendous and been left with the realization that she was going to fucking die.

  “What’s your full name?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “Just wanted to know the name of the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

  She wasn’t flattered. “Matilda Jane Sinclair.”

  He couldn’t understand it. Either Matilda Jane Sinclair was the strongest creature in the world, or the fucking coldest, most closed off human in existence. “How are you so calm about this?” he finally asked.

  Tilly’s gaze flicked to him and she finished chewing. “I’ve lived my whole life going from one failure to another. I knew this was a shot in the dark. I knew better than to really get my hopes up. I’m going to die,” she stated with an icy tone. “The good thing is at least I’m not going to leave anyone behind.”

  Bishop ran a hand down his face and cursed. “We can try again. I know someone else who might be able to help.” Lucifer would know how to fix this. Fuck Valor and anyone else who tried to stop Bishop from going to the Devil about it. This woman was too damn young to die. Maybe one of the Crossroads Demons could help? They were kind of like wish granters, right? Just make a bargain and get what you want. Bishop was prepared to make an exchange on behalf of Tilly. The only problem with using a Crossroad Demon was they seemed to have gone off grid since the whole Hell crumbling nightmare.

  Bishop literally felt split in two: Half of him wanted to find the twins, and the other half wanted to make sure this woman lived the rest of her days to the fullest so she’d die with no regrets. Both felt imperative. This shouldn’t be happening. He didn’t know this woman enough to feel so torn about his duties. But their paths crossed at the worst possible time – Bishop’s most vulnerable time – and he felt a certain degree of obligation to help her out since he couldn’t do a damn thing to lift her curse.

  “Don’t bother trying to ask someone else,” Tilly devoured the last of the pasta. “I’m done.”

  Wait, done with fighting death or done the pasta? Bishop continued to hold the tray in his lap and noticed she’d leaned in a little closer to him.

  “There’s just one thing left to do now,” she said quietly.

  “What’s that?” Shit, why did his voice have to sound so husky right now? He cleared his throat, “What can I do to help you, Tilly?” Temporary, he thought. She’s only temporary, like a snowflake.

  “I want you to leave me alone, Bishop.” Tilly turned away from him and closed her eyes.

  On the inside, he screamed and roared and protested. On the outside, he stayed calm and respected her wishes. Holding the tray with both hands, he cracked the handles with his tight grip, and then he quietly left the room. He wanted to leave the door open just a little, but that was out of habit, which meant he forced himself to shut the damn thing behind him.

  Bishop glanced at one of the twin’s rooms and his heart cracked even more. He failed to find the twins and failed to help Tilly out of her jam. Useless… he was so motherfucking useless.

  As Bishop headed back to the kitchen, his heartbeat echoed inside the empty shell he called a body. The twins and Tilly weren’t the only ones he’d failed either. Bishop slammed the tray down on the counter and buried his face in his hands.

  Holy Hell. The world was starting to close in on him. Maybe he should let it this time. Let the weight of the world bury his sorry ass for good. At this rate, they were never going to find Baz and Drake. Bishop didn’t want to live without his pack – his whole pack. Going on without the twins was just not an option for him. Period.

  And poor Tilly… she was too young, too wonderful, too good to fucking die yet.

  Maybe he could trade his life for Tilly’s? Yeah, he thought. If he could get ahold of one of those Crossroads Demons, maybe they could work something out. If not, then he’d go to Lucifer and lay a new bargain down on the table for him. It would be a win-win. Bishop would get put out of his misery and Tilly would get a longer life.

  Resolved, Bishop gave the search for Sebastian and Drake one more month. After that, Bishop was out of here. Permanently.

  Here’s hoping Tilly lived long enough for him to make the trade.

  Chapter 25

  Master stepped into the chilled, damp room. His nose crinkled from the pungent odor clinging to the stone walls. Somewhere, water dripped and the ploink, ploink, ploink was already grating his nerves. His servants, though obedient enough, hadn’t been successful at all with the task he’d set them.

  He needed to be cautious with the actions he took. Being caught was one thing, being stopped was quite another. Walking around the room, he watched as his servants finished yet another spell. The Hell Hound they were focusing on was stretched out on a stone slab and… ah, it wasn’t water he heard dripping, it was blood. Hell Hound blood to be exact. Master avoided stepping in the mess and walked over to stand at the head of the slab.

  Shrouded in his usual, Master hovered over the wounded Hound. The dog’s eyes were swollen, magic had turned his pupils an explosion of colors, and his skin was pasty and damp with sweat. Along his torso, herbs burned and symbols had been cut into his flesh. Impressive for a Hell Hound to last so long in these conditions. This level of magic was not for the faint of heart. “Why is he still unchanged?”

  “Nothing works for very long,” his servant said while untying the Hound’s restraints. “We’ve tried everything you gave us. His soul seems immune to all our magics.”

  “You must not be using the spells correctly.” Master leaned down and got a good look at the Hound. God Almighty, what Lucifer saw in these once-were-humans was beyond him. They might have strength and a good amount of convenient power, but just like humans, they were fragile creatures. Bendable. Breakable. Usually with fractured minds and tortured pasts that stained their souls.

  Wait a minute, “Where is his soul?”

  “What?”

  “His. Soul. Where is it?”

  The servant gawked at Master and frowned. “In his body, sire.”

  Master peeled the Hound’s eyelids wide open and hissed. “This one has no soul, you fucking fool! You can’t turn a soul if there isn’t one!”

  They both peered down at the dark-haired Hound. Suddenly, the soulless fucker thrust his head forward and launched a wad of spit in Master’s face. The act took him by surprise and he stumbled back, furious and insulted. With a lash of power, he struck out and clocked the fucker on the side of the head, sending the Hound rolling off the slab and crashing to the floor.

  “Now!” the Hound yelled and Master felt something barrel into him from behind. His masked appearance almost faltered as he stepped into the puddle of blood and slipped. Catching himself, Master quickly moved away and struck the Hound again. The dog’s jaw cracked with the hit, but he didn’t fall.

  Hell Hounds were resilient creatures. Lucifer hadn’t chosen weaklings. These things could take a beating. Good to know.

  The male twins came at him, together. Master slammed both Hounds with a spell that took away their memories for a moment. They would forget what they were doing. It was a temporary solution but was all he could do in this state.

  They stumbled and held their heads. While they stayed dazed and confused, Master moved around the room studying them. How could the one be soulless? Did Lucifer hold the Hound’s soul like a prized possession? Yes, Master thought, that must be it.

  Leave it to Lucifer to covet. That Angel always was so fascinated with humans. Their spirit. Their innocence. God only knows why. Humans were weak and fragile and lived such short lives, they barely had time to hone the skills needed to be great warriors.

  Malanu
m, however, were more agile and equipped for war. Being dead already meant they couldn’t be killed. It was why Master wanted more of them so badly. But malanum were not without some of their own issues. Obedience and fealty were two things Master had yet to gain with them. It’s why he wanted Hound’s blood. There was something in their life force that made them loyal to the bone. If he had his way, Master would snatch every dog Lucifer owned and turn them into vessels for his war. It hadn’t gone so smoothly with his first attempt, but he could hardly take the blame for that. He’d given all the right tools to Charlotte and her little boy toys.

  When they performed the ceremony on Sara that night nearly six years ago, Master hadn’t been able to stay for too long. His energy wouldn’t allow it at the time. Since then, however, he’d grown stronger. He could visit the human world more often, and was able to keep his identity concealed.

  “Seize that one,” Master commanded. His servant lunged forward and grabbed one of the dazed Hounds by the throat. Master bent forward and growled, “Where is your soul, dog?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Time to raise the stakes a little higher. “Bring in the girls.”

  “Yes, Master.” His servant dropped the docile Hound to the ground and left.

  Master. It had such a lovely ring to it.

  He made sure everyone he worked with on the outside was called Master. If shit went sideways, it was Master’s fault. If things went well, it was Master’s success. He learned long ago that taking credit for another’s actions was an easy way to gain power without getting his hands dirty. Lucifer followed the same line of thinking, did he not?

  Master also learned that humans were the most egotistical creatures next to Angels. Give humans a high and mighty title and they relied on that narcissistic high, like a drug addict with an endless supply of heroin. Steve Alder, the self-absorbed piece of shit from New Orleans, was a good example of how intoxicated one could become off his own ego.

  So many servants running around with the same title made the real Master harder to catch. Harder to find. The best part was it also gave certain warriors a false sense of victory and security. Master watched the twins’ expressions while the “girls” came through the door moments later. They were another set of twins.