The Hellhound took a menacing step towards me. “We all have our crosses to bear,” he leered. With a snarl, he snapped a hand on my shoulder, the other on my hip and pulled me close to him. I caught a whiff of his fetid breath and almost gagged. I felt his sharp claws rip my blouse as he lifted me off the ground. Damn. My new Leslie Fay, too. The one that’d cost me almost a week’s salary. Damn. And I was still paying it off on my Visa, too. Now that really bit.
Headache gone, I let out a low growl and twisted around in his grasp. He wasn’t expecting that, and loosened his grip, enough for me to jab the heel of my boot straight into his leering mouth. Startled, he staggered back and dropped me. I rolled over to the far wall of the building and stood up shakily, brushing the alley dust and grime from myself as I did so.
Before I had a chance to think, the Hound advanced on me again. “You’re a spunky one,” he hissed. “Maybe I won’t eat your flesh—no, maybe I won’t. You’d be a good addition to our number.” He shot me another leering, black grin. “All it takes is one bite, you know. How’d you like to look like me?”
The words one bite served to rile me. I jerked myself upright and glared at the monster. “Hey, pal, the one bite thingy? Been there, done that, by something far worse than you, incidentally.”
His chest puffed out and he tapped one long, sharp fingernail against his breastbone. “Hah. What’s worse than a Hellhound?”
“This,” I hissed, and closed my eyes. I felt my body go all tingly, and parts of my anatomy start to stretch. A moment later, I heard the Hounds’ agonized cry.
“What the San Blazes is this?”
In my changed state, I slithered closer to the beast. “I’m sure you’ve seen a Hydra before,” I hissed. “The famed many-headed serpent, whose bite is deadly to most anyone, mortal or Other—and while it won’t kill you, it will induce a coma, which is all I need for now.”
Two of my seven heads shot out. One nipped the Hellhound on the neck, the other on its ankle. The creature swayed, stared at me through slitted golden eyes.
“Shifter—you’re a Shifter,” he muttered, as he slid to the pavement. “That means…”
“Yeah,” I hissed out, “you’re two years too late to turn me, my friend. It’s already been done.”
The Hellhound dropped like a stone, his head hitting the pavement with a sharp cracking sound. I drew back all seven heads, shimmered, and a moment later stood, albeit a tad wobbly, over the fallen creature.
“Coma’ll make you a bit more cooperative, too.” I reached into my pocket for my cell phone. “George owes me big time for you, friend.” I felt around in my pocket. Damn. My phone was gone. I remembered taking it out in the bar—I must have left it there. Friggin’ great. I glanced at the apartment building. Now all the lights were out. Well, maybe someone wouldn’t mind being woken up. After all, it was for a good cause.
At that precise moment, the back door of the building was flung open, and a girl with frizzy red curls, wearing tight jeans and a cutoff top, ran onto the stoop.
“Help! I think my roommate’s been murdered!” Her head swiveled in my direction, and her arms started to pump like a windmill. “Please help! She—she’s not breathing.”
I gave Houndy a sharp kick to make sure he was still unconscious. Then I took off my belt, bound it securely around his wrist. I retrieved my badge and hurried over to the stoop where the girl stood, hugging herself.
“Thank you,” she breathed as I approached. “I—I don’t know what to do. She—she—“
I flashed my Recovery badge and slipped my arm around her shoulders. She was shaking like a leaf. “It’ll be okay,” I said. “Show me where she is.”
I followed the girl into the building, up two flights of stairs and into a corner apartment that was sparsely furnished. There was a threadbare sofa flanked by two scarred end tables, a floor lamp, a rolling bar cart with two bottles of wine on top of it. One wall was covered with bookcases, filled to the brim with what appeared to be a combination of school textbooks and paperback novels. I took all this in at a cursory glance as I followed the girl into the bedroom. She stopped on the threshold, jammed her fist into her mouth.
“She—she’s in there.”
I stepped across the threshold and the breath hitched in my throat. The bed was big, definitely a king, and took up almost the entire room. It was slicked with what looked like genuine satin sheets, the color of delicate pink roses, a match for the skin of the girl who lay sideways across it.
She was pretty, a face like a cameo, hair that cascaded like a fiery red waterfall down one shoulder. I leaned over, put my fingers against her throat.
“She’s still alive,” I said. “Call 911.” As the other girl continued to stand there, mewling with her hand still in her mouth, I barked louder, “Did you hear me? Call 911, or she might well die yet.”
That seemed to rouse the girl, who turned on her heel and left. I started to turn and follow, when something caught my eye. I leaned over the body, and very gently turned it to get a better look at the right shoulder. I sucked in my breath. I wasn’t wrong.
Two fang marks, inside an upside down triangle. The same mark I had on my right shoulder.
The mark of Aega, the damn demon who’d turned me into a Shapeshifter.
