Hell Hound

by Matthew Sylvester

  'My turn,' said Dawn as she blind-fired. One through the gap underneath the desk and one over the top.

  'I'm going to move to the wall, blindside them. Cover me.'

  'Don't go being a twat now,' she laughed, letting off a couple more shots.

  'Wouldn't give you the satisfaction,' I said, catching her eye for a second. She nodded, and I pushed myself to my feet and sprinted for the wall as Dawn fired. I didn't stop running until I hit the wall, a suitably thick Georgian wall, the sound of Dawn's pistol hiding the sound.

  The Fauns returned fire, their large calibre pistols booming. There was little chance of Dawn being able to survive for more than a couple of seconds. No matter how thick the wood of the desk was, it wasn't bulletproof and the only reason she hadn't been hit yet was because the Fauns weren't able to get a proper shot at her.

  I activated my Shield Icon and prepared the Lightning. My plan was simple, fry the fuckers using their guns to channel the electricity. I could hear them talking, and from the tone of their voices, they were getting ready to make a charge into the room.

  A pistol appeared; its owner clearly having stepped out into the open. I leapt forward, Shield raised and Cast the Lightning. Arcs of white-blue electricity filled the air with the stench of ozone and, quickly after, the smell of burning deer. Their guns exploded, the rounds cooking off, sending bullets in all directions as they died in a macabre dance. Shield raised, I pushed their smoking bodies out of the way.

  'Fucking hell, Jane, that is rank.'

  'Shush and move up. We've got the butler and gods know who else to deal with. No way am I letting this arseknuckle get away.'

  'What? Hasn't he legged it?'

  'No, there's not a chance he'd leave us in his house as he ran away. It would ruin his honour.' Her hand landed on my shoulder, so I moved through the door and into the room beyond.

  'Honour? He's a fucking criminal!'

  'Yeah, but cowardice is far more frowned upon.'

  'Bloody toffs!'

  I didn't have a chance to reply as the butler stormed into the room, neglecting to even open the door before he did so. It was smashed to flinders.

  Dawn fired before I'd even had a chance to draw a mental breath. She was wired, the drills she'd been put through second nature now. See a threat, neutralise it. Me, I just wanted to see how well the butler's skin would burn, so I launched a Fireball straight into his face before he'd taken more than a couple of steps.

  The shriek he gave was higher and louder than I expected. Whirling like a dervish, he tried vainly to put out the flames wreathing his head. I gave him another Fireball, catching him in the back this time. The flames raced over his body as if he was soaked in turpentine, and his screams got shriller and louder.

  Raising my Shield to protect my face against the heat, I stepped forward, the dying butler no more than a background distraction. Once a threat, he wasn’t now. Even if he managed to extinguish the flames, he wasn't going to be in any condition to fight. I rather hoped he'd die before Merlin medics got to him.

  Coughing at the smoke from the cooked Fauns and the burning Treeman, I pushed on. Dawn matched me step for step, sweat starting to flow freely as my pyromaniacal murder balls continued to burn the now silent butler as well as the carpet and the curtains he'd fallen by.

  This is going to get people's attention, I thought as we came to the door that led back into the hallway. Reaching out slowly, I touched it with the back of my hand.

  If there was some form of electrical trap, my hand would bounce away. Had I touched normally as an untrained person might, my hand would instantly grab it, dooming me to the same fate as the Fauns. Nothing happened, which meant that, although it might still be trapped, I could try to open it.

  'We're going to go through into hallway, good place for an ambush. You sweep high, I'll sweep low.'

  'Roger that, good to go.' There wasn't anything more worth saying, so I grasped the door, opened it, and had just enough time to draw in a breath before the largest warhammer, Thorhammer to be accurate, smashed into my Shield. The impact blasted us off from our feet and back into the middle of the room. Sliding along the carpet did a wonderful job of exfoliating my back.

  'What was that?' gasped Dawn.

  'A bloody big warhammer. Magical. Like the one Thor carries.'

  Keeping the Shield between us and the entrance to the room, I started to get up. Smoke was starting to fill the room, something which both relieved and worried me at the same time. Obscuring Smith's view meant we were safe-ish from his hammer. However, this wasn't good wholesome smoke from a romantic fire for two. It was full of evil man-made shit. Plastic fumes are not something you want to breathe in.

  There was a bright metallic flash, and then the hammer crunched into the wall behind us, missing my crown by mere millimetres.

  'That's bloody cool! Did he copy Marvel with that?'

  'No. We've had these since hammers were made of flint.' The hammer zipped past us on its return journey, strap flying behind it.

  'I want one.' She was serious. Unfortunately, a hammer with a power like that would cost six figures, so she'd have to pay for it herself. I'm selfish like that.

  'Plan. I'm going to try and grab the leather loop on the hammer before it starts to return to Smith. Then I'll ride the thing back to him. You follow as quickly as you can, and we'll take the fuck nugget down. Okay.'

  She laughed, clapping her hands. 'Evil genius! I can't wait to see his face!'

  A loud crunch heralded the return of the hammer. Smith had aimed low this time, and the heavy weapon smashed through the carpet just before us, lodging itself into the floorboards below. Slipping my hand through the loop, I picked the hammer up and pointed it at the doorway.

  Even though I expected it, the pull of the hammer was breathtaking, and I'm certain I let out a most un-ladylike squeal as I was yanked into the air. In a split second, I was through the door and sailing to the hall at the top of the stairs, Smith staring dumbfounded at me as I screamed, charging at him.

  Twisting, I was able to get both feet pointing towards him. Legs slightly bent; the air was still forced from my lungs by the impact as my feet struck his chest sending him flying back.

  The hammer followed, the Magical binding meaning that it would try to return to its owner's hand. Even when the owner was lying flat on the floor gasping for breath. The sound of breaking bones was sickening as the hammer smashed into Smith’s hand.

  Even I, stomach as strong as an ox, quailed at the mush his hand had turned into. Smith screamed, which I thought was more than reasonable.

  It was then that I metaphorically undid my helmet's chin strap. After all, the fight was over, there was nothing more he could do. Right?

  Wrong. He pulled the remains of his hand from under the hammer whilst still screaming, then slapped me straight across the fact with it.

  Both of us screamed. Him as his newly minced hand hit me with all the force he could muster. Me as the bones jutting out from his newly minced hand gouged into my flesh.

  'Will you give it a fucking rest!' I yelled as he launched a wild swing with his other hand.

  I swayed back, the breeze of his near miss wafting over my face. Placing both hands behind me, I lashed out with my foot, insole smashing into his rage contorted face.

  The blow sent him arching backward. Going with it, he rolled straight over and back onto his feet. Spitting blood into my face, he cackled, then turned on his heels.

  'Why'd you let him go?' yelled Dawn as she charged past me, wild shots carving holes in everything but Smith. Bastard probably had some sort of Charm on him. That or Dawn was just too hyped up.

  Grumbling to myself, I clambered to my feet, feeling every scrape and bruise on my body. Stumbling, trying to build up speed, I chased after them.

  I caught up to them in what looked like a dining room. Dawn was engaged in a bitter hand-to-hand fight with Smith. She threw a hard right-hook that slammed into the side of Smith's jaw. He replied in t
urn with an uppercut to her stomach that forced to the air from her lungs.

  Bent double, she threw her arms around his waist, straightened, and then dumped him onto the floor. Slipping on the blood that had dripped onto the formally pristine white tiles, Dawn crashed to the floor beside Smith where they started to trade yet more blows.

  Charging forwards, I launched a front kick and crashed my foot into his face. Blood and teeth flew, Smith finally going to limp as the fight was taken out of him.

  Dawn spat a gobbet of blood onto floor, 'I think he's burst something in me. He hits hard!'

  'He's a tough bastard,' I bent over him, tried to peel open his eyelids to make sure that I hadn't done too much damage. Beyond the smushed hand that was. That's when everything went black for a split second. When my vision came back, I found myself looking up at the fine plasterwork ceiling.

  'He's running again!'

  I rolled onto my knees, head spinning, snorting like a pig as I tried to breathe through what felt like a broken nose. Spots still danced across my vision and migraine-like pain exploded in my head when I shook it to clear it.

  Bastard headbutted me!

  'I can't run, he's fucked my guts up,' said Dawn. Her voice removed as she spoke, weak and husky. I pushed down the worry that threatened to overwhelm me. She had never sounded this bad. There was no way that I was going to let this Mark escape.

  Fuck being professional, this is personal, I thought as I finally made it to my feet. The room swam, but I could still just about focus on the door Smith had gone through, so I staggered after him.

  My feet gave way as I entered the room, vertigo sending me face first into the carpet and there was a loud crack as something hard buried itself into the doorframe where my head would have been.

  The blurred outline of Smith's knees appeared before me. As quickly as I could I cupped the outside of the one nearest, then hooked my other fist straight into where my cupped hand would have been if the inside of his knee hadn't been in the way.

  It was a good hit, as hard as any I’ve ever thrown and it landed perfectly in the nerve bundle I was aiming for. He screamed, his knee buckled, and he was heading towards the floor. Only he wasn't. A wet sound, like that of a melon being dropped from a height filled the air, followed by the sound of his body hitting the floor.

  Looking up I saw the bloodstained corner of a mantelpiece. Looking to where Smith had fallen, I saw his glazed eyes, a depression in the side of his skull, yellow bone where the scalp had been torn.

  He's fucked I thought, scrabbling towards him on my knees.

  'Who are you working for you shit? Who?' Picking him up and shaking him by the collar probably wasn't the best idea but I was beyond caring. Magic could treat a lot of things, but nothing I had would heal a catastrophic head injury like that.

  'Fack…' even now the bastard had some fight in him. I was impressed. 'Fack…' and that was that. Throat rattling, a little twitching, and his eyes were completely devoid of life.

  'Did you mean to bash his brains in?' whispered Dawn from somewhere behind me.

  'No, babes, the twat did that himself.'

  'Oh. Kudos. Can we get to a healer now. I don't feel good.’?

  'You and me both.' Groaning, we propped each other up and hobbled away from the devastation we had caused.

  Driving to John's naturally meant that we drove past where the Porsche had met its untimely end. All that was left to show of it was some glass, a very large burn Mark on the road, and some singed grass. And lots and lots of police tape and scenes of crime officers wandering around in those freaky white coveralls.

  Even though the car was gone, it was clear that they were still searching the crime scene. Mundane cops canvassing the area, our Enlightened cops making sure that they evidence collected hid all traces of Magical involvement.

  We slowed down to gawp. All normal drivers did so, and it would have been odd if we hadn't. Dangerous too since there were at least three cars in front of us doing the same thing. We didn't want to stand out.

  It's common knowledge that people involved in violent crime often come along to see what's being done. Some because they're paranoid and want to make sure that they didn't miss anything and won't be caught. Others because they got a sick and perverted thrill from watching.

  All this meant that the police standing at the tape, or waving people on, were also looking at those same people to see if they could spot anyone who was off. And then ask them to help with our enquiries.

  Accelerating away to the cursedly slow 40mph limit set on most of the road from Crediton to Exeter, I started to mull things over properly. The investigation had, if I was totally honest, gone to utter rat shit in an amazingly short period of time. Not that I wasn't used to resolving Marks quickly, the Cassabian had taken less than a day to put together and, literally, execute the plan.

  But this case was different. It was starting to feel personal. Our friend, Steven, had been compelled. We'd been accused of Compelling him.

  Then we'd been ambushed, and my car reduced to expensive barbecue status, with me being badly injured.

  Following that, we'd been blamed for the death of the person who had accused us if Compelling Steve after we'd had a very public falling out.

  My cat senses were tingling. We'd had an incredibly busy two days and, apart from killing some very nasty men and having a nice trip to Darkmoor, we'd not progressed the case any further. We had, though, been buried up to our neck in shit.

  It would be good to speak to our handler and, no pun intended, get a handle on things.

  The rest of the drive was eventful, for which I was utterly grateful. I needed a break, time to get my breath and re-centre myself. Maybe then I'd be able to spot a pattern, something that I was missing.

  Re-centering was, I found out as soon as John opened the door, completely out of the window.

  'What the fuck!' I said as his battered face greeted us.

  I could barely see his eyes behind the swelling of his cheekbones. He looked like a discoloured melon, and the way he moved told me he was injured in other ways as well. Every movement spoke of well-hidden pain.

  'Ah, Jane, good to see you.' His puffy lips moved in what I suppose was meant to be a smile, serving only to show he was missing at least one tooth, and the survivors were chipped. 'Come on in. Let's have a sit down.'

  'I'll make the tea,' said Dawn slipping past him, mouthing 'fuck me' or something similar once she was out of his line of sight.

  We walked slowly into John's living room. It was always a comfortable place, a strange and eclectic mix of the modern and retro. A grandfather clock ticked away in one corner, whilst a 72” 4K telly dominated the other. Handlers got paid well. They deserved to be, especially due to the obvious dangers they faced.

  'What the hell happened?'

  'I was paid a visit by a group of men who seemed determined to find out what you knew about the Hound. Since you've only been working on the Mark, I was able to tell them very little other than that you were on the case. Helped that you hadn't checked in with me yet.'

  I hid a wince at that. I should have been checking in daily, but things were just moving too quickly.

  'They were quickly able to discern that I did indeed know very little. But that didn't stop them from tenderising me. They only stopped when one of them got a message. Said something like, ‘The bitch is on her way home. Boss wants her dead.’ After that, they gave me a few goodbye kicks, and then left.'

  'Any idea who it was?' I asked through gritted teeth. It hurt to see John in such pain. He hid it well, but the way that he jumped when Dawn entered the room with a tray of drinks gave away the lie. His house. The one place that he should have felt safe had been violated.

  'Oh, yes, it was that bastard and his crew, Stinky Pete. That's why I answered the door. I'd put out my own feelers, saying I needed them for a job. I didn't realise something was wrong until I lowered the Wards and let them in.'

  I exhaled slowly, trying to s
mile without baring my teeth in a snarl. Sometimes, my Shapeshifting ability let my animalistic side through.

  'You'll be pleased to know they’re all dead, bar Pete.'

  'Good God, how?' he exclaimed, sitting forward quickly before jerking to a stop with a hiss and clutching at his ribs.

  'They ambushed us on the way home. Completely burnt out the Porsche. Would have had us with the first Fireball if they'd aimed properly. We got out, fought through, killed them all. Found out that Pete is a Were-rat. He got away, though. I was too badly injured to help. Spent the night at Mrs. Beaston's.'

  'Ah, good to hear, good to hear.' He nodded his thanks to Dawn as she handed him a cup of tea, a Rich Tea biscuit on the saucer.

  'Talking of Mrs. Beaston, we really should get you to her.'

  'Thank you. I was going to call once I shook this beastly headache. They rather rattled my noggin when they started to take turns jumping on it.'

  'Bastards!' said Dawn, dropping from her chair to give him a clumsy hug. There was a muffled squeak as she squeezed something a little too tightly, so she let go with a quick, 'Sorry, mate!'

  'Does anyone know this has happened?' I asked him once he was settled back into his chair.

  'Yes. Unfortunately, my neighbours heard the rumpus and called the police. Fortunately, one of ours attended with the others and made sure she was at the front when it came to questions and such like. I had to attend the RD&E, but I don't like hospitals, so got out as quickly as I could.'

  I bit my tongue at that. He was a part of the Magical community but for some reason he’d not been Healed before seeing us. Work first. It was irritating. His pain could have been removed in an instant.

  Stubborn arse.

  'Sounds like whoever's trying to free the Hound knows far too much about the investigation and who's running it. They must be really spooked to send someone after you!'

  It was generally known in the Magical community that attacking Handlers, or anyone related to the Merlins, was so far beyond the boundaries of what was deemed acceptable that they might as well be trying to leave the solar system.