A Proper Hellhound Read online

  Contents

  A

  All fathers are invisible in daytime; daytime is r...

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  AUTHOR NOTES

  TOMBYARDS & BUTTERFLIES

  Contact me:

  Thank you for reading

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  A

  Proper

  Hellhound

  A Montague & Strong Detective Agency Short

  by

  Orlando A. Sanchez

  “What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” – Dwight D. Eisenhower

  What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog.-Dwight D. Eisenhower.

  ONE

  “THESE WERE A pair of Church’s.” Monty walked into the office, holding up a mass of leather I assumed used to be a pair of shoes. “My favorite pair, in fact.”

  I looked up from my desk and gave the mangled mess in his hand a serious look. “Not even prayer can help those. Did you say that was a pair of shoes?”

  Peaches, who lay sprawled out at my feet, looked away suddenly. If he didn’t look guilty before, he did now.

  “Your creature decided I didn’t need this pair any longer.” Monty glared down at Peaches, who kept his gaze averted. “He knows what he did, Simon. He can’t even look at me.”

  “Are you sure it was him? Maybe you released some magic as you were putting on your shoes and poof, instant art?”

  “I do not miscast and destroy my shoes.” He placed the leather modern art on my desk. “Contrary to what you may think, my magic is always under control.”

  “Except when it isn’t,” I answered, taking a sip from my coffee. “Are they still rebuilding Gracie Mansion?”

  He shot me a ‘don’t go there’ look so I avoided the subject.

  “Why don’t you address the accused?” He pointed at Peaches, who had angled his body away from the angry mage, nudging my legs over and taking cover under my desk. “And tell him he can’t hide under the desk. That’s like asking an elephant to blend in behind a single stalk of bamboo.”

  I nearly spit up some coffee but refrained because Monty looked genuinely upset. I glanced under the desk to see a contrite Peaches staring up at me.

  Puppy-dog eyes only work when the animal in question is a) a puppy and b) doesn’t have eyes that glow red. Peaches was a puppy in definition only and hellhounds don’t pull off sad looks well. At least mine didn’t. Still, I felt bad for him.

  “Maybe he confused them for one of his toys?” I looked up from the soulful eyes staring at me from the floor. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

  “He doesn’t have any shoe-shaped toys. This was not an ‘accident,’ ask him.”

  I held a hand up in surrender. “Give me a sec.”

  I pushed my chair back to get a better look at my hellhound, who scrunched farther under the desk in a vain attempt to hide his enormous head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Hellhound logic was a strange and bizarre thing usually revolving around the subject of meat and the immediate acquiring of more.

 

  I braced myself for the meat-related response.

 

  I looked up at Monty.

  “He felt he needed to liberate your shoes because they were old, and Peaches—astute hellhound that he is—has noticed your destructive tendencies to things of a certain age.”

  “He said that?” Monty peered under the desk. “I highly doubt it.”

  “Not in so many words, but that was the gist. Plus, he said you have enough shoes to open a shoe store and thought you wouldn’t mind him having a gentle chew on these.”

  “A gentle chew?” Monty pointed at the remains of his shoes. “He calls this gentle?”

  “I’m guessing that’s gentle for a hellhound.”

  “I made the call,” Monty said, picking up the leather mass of mangled footwear and incinerating it in his hand with a word.

  “What do you mean you ‘made the call?’” I asked warily. “Who did you call?”

  “Ezra,” Monty said with a note of finality. “He’s waiting for you.”

  “You don’t think that’s a bit extreme?”

  “If your creature is going to live with us, he’s going to be a proper hellhound.” Monty looked down at his watch. “His first obedience lesson starts in an hour. Good luck.”

  TWO

  I DIDN’T WANT to admit it, but Monty was right. Peaches needed training. When Hades had first offered him to me, I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t have much or any experience with hellhounds. I figured he’d be like any large dog: lots of eating, plenty of slobber, and the occasional accident.

  The glowing red eyes should’ve been a clue Peaches was no ordinary dog. That and the fact that it was Hades, the god of the underworld, offering me Cerberus’ pup.

  I hadn’t had much choice. If I didn’t accept Peaches, Hades would’ve had him destroyed. He may be a hellhound capable of mind-numbing destruction, but he was my hellhound of mind-numbing destruction.

  I headed downtown in the Dark Goat, our new Pontiac GTO provided by SuNaTran.

  Supernatural Transportation, or SuNaTran for short, provided a car service for the supernatural population. Because being covered in blood and viscera and hailing a cab, even one in New York City—the capital of the bizarre—will get you cuffed and sitting in a NYTF cell.

  SuNaTran provided discreet service any time of day or night to any of the five boroughs and beyond, for a price. The transportation they provided—and I use the term loosely since each Rolls Royce Phantom was a tank disguised as a car—was the height in security.

  Our last Goat had been reduced to slag by a Magistrate looking to do the same to Monty. Cecil provided us with a new Goat, using runes that made it slightly cursed. I’d dubbed it the Dark Goat.

  So far, it had survived being launched thirty feet into the air, rolling for another forty feet, totaling three cars, and smashing into a wall unscathed. Cursed or not didn’t matter to me as long as it remained functional after one of Monty’s spells gone wrong.

  I glanced in the rear-view mirror at Canine McSprawl taking up the entire back seat. He claimed the back seat of any vehicle as his territory and proceeded to occupy all the available space.

 

 

  I saw his ears perk up at my words. Telepathic speaking was a recent development we’d acquired in London. It was triggered when Thomas, one of Monty’s frenemies, tried to poison Peaches. The near-death experience temporarily severed our bond and allowed him to become Planet Peaches. He’d grown to the size of a small bus, and I was able to hear his thoughts.

  Since then, TK had fashioned him a collar of entropy stones, with a matching bracelet for me, to regulate his size issues. I noticed it wasn’t really doing the job. That and chewing up Monty’s s
hoes was why we were going to see Ezra.

 

 

 

  We arrived at ‘the place,’ which was really an exact duplicate of Katz’s Deli. I walked in, followed by Peaches, who set off the door wards with an orange flash as he crossed the threshold. I figured it was a result of his recent changes.

  Photos of celebrities covered the walls. Small tables, which sat four, filled most of the floor space. Some of the tables were occupied with patrons either eating or having lively conversations. A large wooden counter ran across one wall with men behind it who were serving food and drinks.

  A bearded man dressed in a white shirt with black pants and a black vest was sitting in a corner alone. He was poring over a thick book, as usual.

  Ezra didn’t look up as we approached. He motioned for us to sit down. I grabbed the other chair and sat across from what appeared to me to be an old Jewish scholar. Next to him stood a slim woman holding a clipboard and wearing a sling bag over one shoulder.

  “This is Mori, my PA,” Ezra said, still looking down at the book. “She will be doing the initial assessment of your wonderful pup.”

  “Death has a PA?” I said, looking at Mori. “What does she do? I mean besides be an army of one?”

  Mori was tall, and she was dressed in what I imagined was the combat version of Ezra’s outfit. Dual shoulder holsters held two hand cannons and rested over a black Kevlar vest bristling with extra magazines. Under the vest, she wore a dragonscale ensemble of black pants, a white dress shirt, and finished off with a pair of black Dr. Martens steel-toed Hynines.

  She pushed up the pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose and stared at me. Her tight bun and icy glare reminded me of Karma. It wasn’t a pleasant memory.

  “Whatever needs doing.” Mori jotted down some notes on her clipboard, turned to Ezra, and pointed at me with her pen. “This is the bondmate?”

  Ezra nodded without looking up. “Yes, he is the one Hades chose.” He signaled to one of the waiters, who came over immediately. “Ten pounds of pastrami for the puppy, in his special bowl.”

  Mori sniffed. “What was Hades thinking?” She gave me a once-over. “Are you certain, sir?”

  Ezra looked up at Mori and pushed the book he was reading to the side.

  “I’m certain,” Ezra said, and the temperature of the room dropped noticeably. “Do not allow your sight to cloud your vision. I’m sure Hades has his reason for the choice.”

  The waiter came out with a large titanium bowl full of steaming pastrami and put it on the floor in front of Peaches. He smelled the bowl and proceeded to devour the meat. I noticed the bowl had a large “P” etched into one side.

  “Yes, sir,” Mori replied quietly. “Do you have a preference on the training protocol? He’s not an adult like Cerberus.”

  “Full immersion.” Ezra looked down at Peaches and pet his head.

  “Sir?” Mori asked, surprise evident in her voice as she looked at Peaches and then up at me. “Full immersion? But he’s only a puppy and his bondmate is…well, untrained.”

  “They don’t have the luxury of time. Full immersion.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Mori pointed at me with her pen. “Follow me, please.”

  “Wait,” I said, not moving. “What is full immersion? Why does that sound dangerous?”

  “It’s not dangerous.” Ezra closed his book, leaned back in his chair, and stared at me. “It’s lethal.”

  “Lethal? Can I have the non-lethal full-immersion package?”

  “Lethal for most, but not you, due to your condition.”

  “Condition, sir?” Mori looked at her clipboard. “I see no mention of a condition.”

  “I know. Mr. Strong here happens to be Kali’s chosen.”

  Mori stared at me. “This is Kali’s chosen?” Mori asked, clearly not impressed. “I expected someone…I don’t know…more robust?”

  “You’ll have to excuse Mori,” Ezra said. “She’s the best PA I have but is sometimes too outspoken.”

  “What about Peaches?” I looked down at my hellhound, who was polishing off the last of the pastrami. “Is he in danger?”

  Ezra leaned forward. “Simon, you are aware that the animal you have bonded to is not an actual dog, yes?”

  “Well, yes. I mean I know he’s a hellhound, but—”

  “Not just any hellhound, his sire is Cerberus.” Ezra pointed at me. “Hades informed you of this, yes?”

  “He did.” I looked down at Peaches, who was now gnawing on the bowl and leaving dents in the titanium.

  “And in the course of your time together, what difficulties have you faced?”

  “Quite a few.” I thought back to some of the creatures Peaches and I had stood against and overcome. More than once, he had saved both Monty and me.

  “In all that time has he ever been in danger?”

  “London wasn’t a picnic. Thomas tried to poison him and nearly succeeded, then he was launched into the Thames,” I replied quietly. “I thought I’d lost him.”

  “Stop kvetching.” Ezra waved my words away. “Do you know what it takes to kill a hellhound?”

  “Well, no…I mean I’ve never faced one.” His question caught me off guard. “But I’m sure you—”

  “Me neither. They are quite the mystery.” He shook his head and glanced at the now temporarily satiated Peaches. “And I’ve faced quite a few of them.”

  “But you’re Dea—”

  “These creatures are nearly indestructible.” Ezra emphasized each word with a tap on the table. “I don’t know if it has to do with their bondmate, but it’s almost impossible to kill a hellhound when the bond is broken unless Shadowhounds are involved.”

  “I see. That kind of reinforces what I’ve heard. Wait, Shadowhounds?”

  He waved my words away again.

  “There’s only one situation when it’s even harder.” Ezra leaned in closer and lowered his voice. He motioned for me to get closer.

  “When?” I asked, forgetting for a moment that I was having a conversation with Death—capital D. I leaned in, expecting a profound revelation.

  Ezra smiled, giving me a tap on the cheek that caused me to see stars. The blow nearly launched me out of the chair I occupied. I glanced up at Mori and noticed she turned away with a slight smile on her face. I gripped the sides of the table to remain upright as the deli swam in my vision.

  “You’re not focusing, Simon,” Ezra said as the floor stopped seesawing around me. “The only time it’s harder to take on a hellhound is when the bond is intact.”

  I rubbed my cheek slowly as the feeling returned to my face. It reminded me of one of Karma’s gentle slaps of steel. I’d started to believe that these beings of immense power viewed my face as slap-worthy.

  “Got it.” I flexed my jaw slowly to make sure it wasn’t broken. “So, lethal, just not for Peaches.”

  “Or you.” Ezra held out a hand. “The weapons.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No weapons are allowed in the training area.” Mori looked down at her clipboard and then her watch. “You both have to learn how to rely on each other and your bond.”

  “What am I supposed to do without weapons?”

  “You expect to need weapons in a hellhound training lesson?” Ezra said. “You plan on shooting your pup into obedience?”

  He had a point, but I wasn’t convinced.

  “You just said this training is mostly lethal?” I looked at Ezra and kept the tone of my voice even. Pissing off Death felt like a bad idea. “Now I have to go in without weapons?”

  Ezra nodded and kept his hand out. I removed Grim Whisper and placed it on the table, followed by Ebonsoul.

  “The bracelet.” Ezra pointed to the mala bracelet around my wrist. “That too.”

  “You’re kidding.�
�

  Ezra gave me a look, convincing me that there was no kidding occurring at this particular table. I removed the bracelet, feeling naked and defenseless.

  “The bracelet would interfere with the training as well,” Mori pointed out. “It will have to remain here.”

  “You depend on these weapons and the bracelet too much.” He waved a hand over them and they disappeared. “You’ll get them back after the lesson.”

  “How am I supposed to deal with any threats? Stare at them hard?”

  “What threats?” Ezra asked. “This is a training lesson.”

  “For a hellhound and an immortal. Really? You still haven’t answered what I’m supposed to do.”

  “It’ll come to you,” Ezra said. “This is why your bond isn’t developed. Mori, don’t forget the collar and the other bracelet.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. The collar regulates him from becoming Planet Peaches XL.”

  “That”—Ezra pointed at me—“is your job. The collar is a temporary measure.”

  “What about my mark?”

  “I’d suggest against it in the training area,” Mori said, pushing up her glasses. “Disrupting the temporal stasis can have…adverse side effects.”

  “What Mori means is”—he grabbed my hand and I felt a jolt of power—“using your mark would be a bad idea.”

  I looked down and saw the mark had vanished.

  THREE

  “WHAT DID YOU do?” I examined my hand. “It’s gone?”

  “Something like that,” Ezra replied. He rubbed Peaches on the head again and grabbed his book. “Good luck, both of you.”

  “How many of these lessons do we have to do?”

  “It usually only takes one. Hellhounds are very intelligent.”

  “Usually?”

  “Meh, hellhounds are smart.” He made a shaking motion with his hand. “Their bondmates, not so much. What can I say?”

  “How about ‘let’s postpone this lesson’?”

  “It would be in your best interests to get this bond sorted out.” Ezra looked over across the deli. “You’ve been attracting the attention of some powerful beings.”