“Li…Lionel?” I gasp, looking at the driver’s seat, but Lionel is lying out on the pavement, bleeding. “LIONEL!” I scramble to him, feeling dizzy, grasping him, shaking, but I cry tears of utter relief when I see he’s still breathing. “Wake up. P-please w-wake up,” I cry, but I panic when I see standing over the car is something… inhuman. It’s tall, far too tall, with limbs that are too long and skin the color of a drowned man. It has no hair, and its face is a smooth, terrifying mask with glowing, predatory eyes.
I open my mouth to scream, but the creature moves with a speed that defies physics and raises a hand, holding a small, metallic device that hisses as I feel a sharp sting in my neck.
The world starts to tilt. The orange streetlights turn into streaks of fire, and the ground feels like it’s falling away, and I hit the ground with a thud, panting tears in my eyes.
SYE H-HELP!
The last thing I see before the blackness swallows me whole is the creature leaning down, its cold, dead eyes looking into mine, then it smiles.
“The Gatekeepers are coming,” it whispers.
And then, everything goes dark.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SYE
One of them snaps their hand, and the penthouse that was immaculately decorated with their pretty little mama in mind all but disappears, and Slater, Yamir, and Enzo move through the rooms with a focused energy. The things they leave in the space include Melanie’s favorite white couch, the Christmas tree, and all the presents they’d spent the day meticulously wrapping, as well as a few books and smaller objects.
“You have tape on you.” Yamir chuckles, snatching the tape off Enzo’s back, causing him to flinch.
“You did that on purpose,” Enzo growls, and Yamir points the middle finger at him.
“So,” he raises a brow, and Enzo goes to tackle him, but Slater steps in the way.
“We don’t have time for this right now. Now that we have Mama taken care of, we need to make sure the Hellfire is secured. Have you reached out to the other Cerberuses in the other Hells?” he asks his brothers, and Yamir nods.
“A few of them said they’ll help and smuggle some out, but some haven’t responded. Apparently, the Hells are busy preparing for the turn of the Demon kings.” Yamir shoves his hair out of his face, sighing, and Enzo rubs the back of his neck, tired.
“What are they so up in arms about? Last we heard, the Demon Kings have barely manifested their powers… only Lust has manifested a fraction of his powers, and they haven’t even confronted their reincarnations. We have time, why are they rushing?” He grits.
“Well, from what I heard, they are hoping this can get more of them to manifest and confront their reincarnations sooner. If we’re lucky, we can get some in all the chaos, but it won’t be nearly enough for Hellhounds who were born in the fire closest to the Demon Emperor…” Yamir speaks, and they all go quiet, a heavy feeling falling over them.
“Hey, why are we acting so depressed when we have Mama to care for? Whatever we can get our hands on, we will make it work for her. If we can’t get Hellfire, we can just go to places with miasma.” Enzo, the optimist of the group, tries to bring their spirits higher, but Slater growls.
“You know that’s easier said than done. You know the Miasma on Earth is lacking… in order for us to get even close enough, wewill have to go to places of war and famine… There are only a handful of countries that come to mind that will sustain us, and we would need such large amounts we would have to?—”
“Kill innocents.” Yamir finishes Slater's sentence, and they go quiet, feeling somber, the weight of their decision heavy on their hearts.
They are hellhounds… tens of thousands of years old. Death means nothing to them. The number of times they have invaded Earth with the sins when the world was ending soon after all the calamities gathered are too many to count. They have ended so many humans and other creatures that they have lost count. Yet now… the thought of killing innocents makes them feel sick to their stomachs.
Not because they have suddenly developed morals, no… it’s all because of her. Their Everything. Their pretty one. Their mate. They are sure that if she found out their true nature, she would leave, and the mere thought… they flare their noses and their heart rates escalate as their murderous intent invades the space, and it takes them everything to reign it in.
“Look, thinking about the worst-case scenario is pointless right now. I say we try to sneak into Hell and get as much Hellfire as we can, then worry about the rest later,” Enzo implores as he goes over to stand by the window, watching the city lights as if he’s trying to spot Melanie.
But when he can’t, he looks a bit faded, the usual spark in his eyes dimming as he hungers for her.
“I hate to admit it, but Enzo is right,” Yamir points out. “Once the portals close, we’ll do our best to scrape by however we can. We might slowly starve, but we won’t die, and none of that matters as long as we have her.”
Slater pauses near the bookshelf, his large hands resting on Melanie’s favorite novels.
“I know the risk,” he growls. “And I agree. We might get weaker, and our bodies won’t heal as fast, and eventually, we might not even be able to shift at all. But life on the run while starved with her is better than an eternity of prosperity without her. We have to make it work,” he grumbles, and they nod.
That’s when the air in the room goes completely stale, and a pang unlike anything the Hellhounds who have fought gods in the past have ever felt courses through their bodies.
All three of them freeze. A sharp, sickening pull at their chest makes their knees weak, and their hearts feel like they will explode.
“Melanie!” they gasp in unison and waste no time talking. They combine their strength and force a hole through the apartment’s floor, tearing a jagged rift through space and leaping through, landing on a freezing, slush-covered highway.
