Hell Hound

by Matthew Sylvester

  ‘My people aren’t used to travelling in such a manner,’ said Lebowski, a grimace on her face. I gulped as the smell of rancid fish filled my nostrils. I could have sworn I heard Dawn whisper something which sounded like, ‘Help me, God. Help me.’

  ‘You don’t look too good either. You going to puke, too?’ Now that I thought about it, Lebowski didn’t look too peachy either.

  ‘I shall be fine. My constitution is stronger than his,’ she said. Even so, she swallowed heavily and wound the window down. I did the same. The smell coming through the cage divider was making my stomach roil. Reaching up, I wiped the sweat that was beading on my forehead away.

  ‘Good. We’re nearly there. Ten minutes.’

  ‘By the All Father, this food is marvellous!’ spat Hunk, spraying food all over the place as he spoke. He was on his third, and I’d paid for another three more for him. I suppose a body that heavily muscled required a lot of fuel.

  ‘Do you have to eat that?’ asked Dawn as we stood about in the Hound Tor car park. She burped delicately, still pale from the journey. The that which she was referring to was a Hound of the Basketmeals bacon and sausage butty. Windows down, I’d caught a sniff of bacon and sausages and then my stomach had reminded me of just how long it had been since I’d last eaten. Not even the smell of Hunk’s puke had been able to diminish that. ‘Shouldn’t the sky be ominously dark or something?’

  I looked up. She was right about the weather. Films and books would have you believe that Monsters and Daemons can only be summoned by people wearing hooded robes on stormy nights. Today's weather was decidedly not that. It was utterly glorious. Birds chirped, cheeped, and zipped through the bright blue sky as the sun beat down upon us.

  'We should have brought sun-tan lotion, ' said Dawn. 'It's fucking hot.'

  'We've got ice-creams,' shouted Bill the owner of Hound of the Basketmeals. ‘Not as if any bugger is turning up to eat them. People just keep driving by.’

  I’d wondered why the car park was so empty on such a day. Normally, it would be jam-packed with cars, families queuing to buy fast-food, mums and dads shouting at their kids to behave, picnickers on the verge and the opposite bank. It was a clear sign to those in the know that something was most definitely up.

  'You might not want to be here for the next few hours. Weather's looking to be getting exceptionally hot,' I called back. 'It's got the potential to be utterly hellish.'

  'Well, in that case, I might just shut shop and head up there. See if anybody needs my help.’ He grinned, baring his teeth.

  I nodded. 'Be glad to have you. We have help on the way but no idea as to when they'll be arriving.'

  'I'm hoping that Reeve will be on his way.' He cocked his head in such a way that I almost expected dog ears to suddenly appear. They didn't, but his arms were decidedly larger than they had been minutes before.

  Slipping my mobile out of my pocket I glanced down. 'On his way.'

  'I can have my Pack down here in twenty minutes. Good enough?'

  I rocked back on my heels. That was a big offer. Werewolves and Shapeshifters don't get on. Merlin agents and Werewolves also don't get on, mostly because the former like to bend the rules whilst the latter enforced them. Not to say we don't bend the rules on the odd occasion, just that we bend them in the name of the law.

  'That would be greatly appreciated. The Merlins would owe you one. I'd owe you one, if that helps.’ I grinned, Shifting just enough to grow some fangs.

  ‘I might just take you up on that. But this is Pack land, and we really don’t appreciate trespassers, including those who are a threat. Tell you what, get me a cask of Dartmoor whisky and we’ll call it even.’ I barely managed to contain the wince that followed those words. A cask of whisky. A cask of whisky that hadn’t even been produced yet. I was going to be seriously out of pocket.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I rasped.

  ‘Good enough.’ He nodded, then drew down the side of his van.

  ‘As interesting as that was,’ Lebowski said, ‘do you think we could get on with facing our enemies?’

  The walk from the car park to the Tor itself was short. Pleasantly so. Not that we weren’t sweating by the time we got there; the sun was hotter than it had been for a while. British weather is perverse, but this was taking the piss.

  ‘Where are all the cultists, and spell-throwers, and well…bad people?’ said Dawn as we neared the Tor.

  ‘There's an old village on the other side. By old, I mean fucking ancient. If they're not on the car park side, they're probably on the village side.'

  'Still, it is quiet,' said Hunk. 'Too quiet. The air should be filled with the noise of the summoning, shimmering with the Power. This is wrong.'

  'Fabulous, thanks for the input. Let's just remain optimistic and go with the idea that Lebowski’s prisoner was lying, and we've got the wrong day. The Chief of Merlins will be royally pissed off. Hell, even the Grand Merlin, but that's something I'm used to.' If I was perfectly honest with myself, I'd have given anything for that scenario to be true. I was bone-tired of fighting and killing. I just needed to have a break.

  After too few paces, we crested the hill that the Tor stood upon.

  ‘Well, fuck-a-doodles, doesn’t that look like a fun party,’ I muttered as we gazed upon the ancient village. It was transformed. A portal, the biggest I’d ever seen, reached a good fifty feet into the air. Beyond was a scene that Dante could only have dreamed about creating. All around the base of the portal stood an army, a literal army of cultists and Fae. None were facing us. If it hadn’t been for the portal, they’d have looked like a bunch of happy-clappy, born-again tambourine-bashers. Arms up, they sang. It was beautiful. Melodies drifted towards us, sections of the Hellish choir chanting, taking turns to sing. I didn’t have words for things they were doing with their voices. It brought tears to my ears, made my heart sing, and made my teeth and bones itch.

  ‘Shit, I should have brought more ammo,’ groaned Dawn. ‘That’s a fuck-ton of targets, babes.’

  ‘Lucky we’ve got friends on the way.’ Even luckier, the dumb shits had their backs to us.

  ‘Why do they not have guards? It is a simple procedure. They must know that enemies would be coming to stop them,’ asked Hunk.

  ‘The Summoning requires those Summoning to face into the circle,’ said Lebowski. ‘See, the front rank forms a perfect circle whereas the others outside of the circle stand ready to take their place if needed. All eyes must be on the centre. It’s a Spell we have used many times in my Family. It proves the dedication and love of those present.’

  ‘Well, bollocks to that,’ said Dawn. ‘What say we start killing them, break up the circle, and force them to deal with us. Delaying action.’

  ‘That is good.’ With that, Hunk sprinted off to the left, Lebowski following.

  ‘Guess we’re taking the centre and right then,’ said Dawn. She cast about, then stepped up to a set of rocks. ‘Looks like a good position. Plenty of cover, and they’ll have to cross the ground whilst coming up that slope. They’ll be knackered.’

  ‘Bit far for you to hit them. That’s got to be at least one hundred metres. Your little 9mm won’t hit them from here.’

  ‘Well, no, boss. That’s why I thought you could chuck some Fireballs, bring them closer for me.’ She grinned, looking like nothing less than a Cheshire cat. Her taste for adventure was, to say the least, overwhelming at times.

  Before we’d left, I’d made sure to grab every Icon I could get my hands on. Catching myself in the mirror, I’d winced at how much I looked like a Pandora addict, slash hipster wannabe. It had been a harsh experience, but if it meant I got through the upcoming battle, I could live with it. What I couldn’t live with were Dawn’s giggles and snorts. Even worse was the way Lebowski’s eyes slightly widened. Aside from anger and hatred, this was the only emotion I’d seen her display. It was as if a shark-like Captain Holt was manifesting himself before me.

  I had more Shields than I c
ould handle, a Glamour which made it hard for people to focus on me, mostly Mundanes, and I was gambling that most of the Cultists were Magical wannabes rather than Gifted. That still left dozens of Fae and truly Magic-capable opponents.

  On the offensive front, I’d loaded up with Fireballs, Lightning Bolts, Sunbursts, and IceRain. I was ready to start my own mini-Magical apocalypse.

  Speaking of which; ‘Anytime you’re ready, boss,’ prompted Dawn. If I’m perfectly honest, the thought of taking on so many opponents was terrifying. But so was the thought of the Hell Hound getting loose. It was a close run as to which was worse. Still, a Mark was a Mark, and Dawn was waiting. That was the clincher. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her. Silly that such a thought would come to me just before my imminent death, but there it was. The knowledge was so utterly sad, in the pitying sense, and that I should have it when facing what was sure to be a quick but painful death—especially if the help I’d requested didn’t turn up—made my stomach flip. Looking over at her, pistols in hand, eyes staring at me, I made a mental note of her face, of the trust I could see in her eyes.

  Running through my Icons, I tapped the Glamour first, then my Shields and, finally, a speed enhancer, which I was hoping would give me a slight edge.

  ‘Get ready, I’m going for a Starburst. Should kill a large number and shock those still standing so much we’ll be able to kill a load more before they can recover.’

  ‘I do love barbecue,’ said Dawn with a wide smile.

  Starbursts were immensely powerful Fireballs, normally reserved for military purposes. Highly destructive, they were on a massively restricted list. If you weren’t on that list, then using them would end up with Merlins sending a bolt of lightning through your brain. Pretty standard execution method. Fortunately, I had an ex who was still sweet on me in the Royal Quartermaster’s Department, and John had grudgingly signed off on it once he’d discovered I had it in my possession.

  Tucking down behind my Shield, I took a steadying breath, then Cast the Starburst. I’d only ever seen pictures of the effects of the Spell, so what followed took me completely by surprise.

  Unlike Fireballs, Starbursts literally come to life at the target location. One second the Cultists were still casting their Summoning, the next I was screaming in pain at the searingly bright light. It was so hot that my skin felt as though it was on fire. I’d have sworn another sun had just come into being. The heat took my breath away, as if I’d eaten a whole pack of Trebor Mints then sniffed a tub of Brasso whilst in an incredibly hot sauna. Blinking furiously, I cleared my eyes enough to see a scene of utter devastation.

  Where the Spell had detonated, there was nothing but a charred area. It was impossible to tell anything living had ever stood there. Screaming Cultists outside of the initial detonation area flailed in agony as their robes burned. Flames leapt from one Cultist to another as my victims bumped into them. It was utter chaos. Spots still danced before my eyes as I tried to sort the living from the soon-to-be-dead. The Starburst was a one-shot Icon, too powerful for someone of my strength to keep Casting. Taking advantage of the terror I’d caused, I started launching Fireballs. Unlike Starbursts, Fireballs leave a visible trail. They look like miniature comets as they burn their way through the air.

  ‘Here they come!’ shouted Dawn as Cultists and Fae charged towards us. Red Caps opened fire, their bullets sparking from my Shield, cracking and zipping past my head. It was utterly hellish, and yet, I’d never felt so alive.

  A Fireball slammed into my Shield, the force blowing me off my feet. All around me the gorse and ferns burst into flames.

  ‘Boss! You’re on fire!’ shrieked Dawn. I look down. She was right. My 5.11s were burning. Only when I realised I was on fire did the heat and the incredible pain hit me.

  Slapping the first defensive Icon I could think of, I doused the flames with a blast of Air.

  ‘Firing!’ Dawn’s pistols started cracking from her position. In the tine I’d been distracted, the enemy had covered a surprisingly large amount of ground. They were far too close and gaining far too quickly. There was no way that my Magic and Dawn's pistols could make a sizeable enough dent in their numbers to stop them attacking.

  ‘Run away!’ It wasn’t my proudest to break this moment, but the idea of facing such overwhelming odds suddenly became a very bad one.

  ‘On it!‘ Dawn sprinted past me, a beautiful and hairier version of Hussein Bolt. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was gaining ground and leaving me behind, I would’ve been impressed. Buzzing wings, like those of a giant dragon, fly drew closer. Risking a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw nothing but blue sky, then green and the grey of the rock heading towards my face as my foot caught in a cleft.

  I landed, and all my bruises and scrapes from the last few days of adventures shrieked into life.

  My heart pounded, stars exploding before my eyes. The buzzing drew even louder, so much so I couldn’t tell whether it was my blood singing in my ears or Fae closing in for the kill. I rolled over onto my back, determined to meet my fate head on. As I did so, the buzzing turned into howling. I must’ve hit my head, I thought, unable to process clearly what I was hearing.

  Numerous dark shapes raced past from behind me, howls bursting from incredibly large tooth-filled maws. My body prickled as all my hairs stood on end as I realised it was the sound of the Hound of the Basketmeals pack charging into battle.

  Nostrils flaring, I gagged slightly on the scent of at least a score of Weres. My body reacted immediately to the perceived threat. Feline Shapeshifters and canine Were had a long and complicated history. Millennia of wars, blood feuds, political maneuvering, and countless deaths. Seeing this many Were in one place through me back to UnderCity, and those memories were still somewhat raw. Instinct took over, and I shifted faster than I ever had before.

  ‘Boss!‘ Whatever else Dawn was going to say was cut off on a gargling gasp-like noise that my super cat-like hearing picked out of the sound of battle. Bat Fink didn’t have a thing on me.

  Something had her by the throat. Tall, utterly eye-searingly black, her attacker had lifted her completely off the ground. Even as I charged towards them, I knew I was going to be too late. She batted at its arms whilst her feet sprinted in mid-air. And then she was sailing off into the distance as it casually tossed her away.

  Rage, incandescent, blood-vessel-bursting rage filled my body. Filled my soul. It was fucking metaphysical. My vision narrowed to a red and tunnel, solely focussed on the creature that had hurt, maybe even killed, the love of my life. My first true love. I didn’t know whether my tiger form could hurt it, but I didn’t care.

  Two metres from it, I launched myself into the air teeth bared.

  What followed next was a blur. Memories of teeth sinking into me, teeth on the ends of fingers that is. Pain, physical and spiritual, as I intended to sink my own teeth into the foul smelling and fouler tasting creature, whilst my hind legs kicked, raking the length of its guts. Memories also of it is mind-boggling strength and its dense bulk bearing me to the ground. Then nothing.

  ‘…you wake up! ‘My cheek, my human cheek, stung with what felt like a rock-hard hand slapping me.

  ‘I’m awake, dammit! ‘I said after the hard hand slapped me twice more.

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ said Dawn as I managed to crack one eye open and stare blearily at the people around me.

  ‘What did I miss?’ I rasped, realising only then just how much my throat hurt and how dry my mouth was.

  ‘You managed to kill a shade and, whilst you were doing that, the portal collapsed. A lot of cultists died, and the Hell Hound was not raised,’ said a voice I didn’t recognise. Turning my head to regard them hurt a lot more than I thought it would. The speaker was a tall woman, With the sort of looks which people described as ‘an English Rose.’ In short, she was stunningly attractive.

  ‘We’ve not met, ‘I said as I struggled to sit up. ‘No thanks to a very comprehensive dossier, Agent Doe,
I know you ‘Is it thick? ‘

  ‘Incredibly. Is also broken down into volumes. Mostly containing crime reports and interactions with Mundane police forces all over the country.’

  I shrugged, hissing in pain, saying as I did so, ‘Well, my services are very much in demand. I would positively love to be circumspect, but as you can see,’ I waved my hands at the devastation the battle had caused, ‘my Marks aren’t the sanest or most cooperative of people. ‘

  I realised she still hadn’t introduced herself but decided to let it slide. She was clearly a Merlin, the edge of a House pin gave that away as it poked out from underneath a collar, And I was used to people who kept everything on a need-to-know basis.

  'Whilst we were policing the area, we found this,' she said, holding up a medallion on a chain. With a sick feeling, I leaned forward, already knowing what I was going to see.

  'A Talisman of Saint Bosco,' said Dawn as she leaned forward and cupped it in the palm of her hand.

  St Bosco was the patron saint of illusionists and, therefore, of the Magical community. He had been a priest of the Vatican, who was also a very powerful—Magic-wise, not influence—member of the Magical community. HIs once-wealthy family lived in abject poverty, and it was only through performing tricks to Mundanes as a young boy that he was able to make a few pennies. His formative years, therefore, had a great influence on his approach to life and, having been shunned by the Magical community, he used the family he found in the Catholic Church to do good and to help similarly poor members of both Magical and Mundane communities alike. With that in mind, he created the Salesians of Don Bosco, a charity dedicated to helping poor children during the Industrial Revolution.

  The Mundane children became handlers for the Magical members, giving the Vatican a cadre of highly dedicated and driven Mundanes and Magic Users. Now, there are nearly 20,000 members across the world. They are not solely dedicated to combatting poverty, however. Their other side, that which the Vatican can never admit—publicly at least—is dedicated to combatting daemons.