Witch {Book One} [UNEDITED]

XXXIII: Hell Hound Food

The pizza came and I ate almost as much as Flynn did. I refused to drink any vodka--which made everyone a little nervous--and I lit a cigarette. I had run out of my own, so I had to take one from Jemma. Of course hers were pastel pink and flavored. I felt like some pastel bitch who tries to be edgy and girly at the same time. But I needed my fix and Jemma was willing to get it for me. 

Jemma took Flynn upstairs and Gabriel left to go do whatever it is bitchy archangels do. Alice said she wanted to go outside and walk around. Simon was in his cat form, sleeping on a shelf  full of old, dusty books. 

It was just me, Helena, Sammy, and my Witchy Boys. 

I pulled my pink cigarette from my lips. For once, there wasn't a lipstick stain around it. 

"I haven't gotten my next trial," I said. "D'ya think I somehow failed the last one?" 

The four exchanged a look. 

"You were down there for close to twenty-five hours," Thomason muttered. "Buried. And alive. I don't see how you could've failed . . ." I put my cigarette back between my lips and grabbed my phone. Sammy had held on to it for me. I turned it on and opened my conversation with Ada. There was nothing. I put my phone on my lap and turned it off again. 

Helena stood up. "I'm hungry." 

"We just ate," I muttered. 

"I need to feed off of anger, remember?" She turned and went upstairs to her room. 

"I need a shower," I said. "And no one is stopping me." I gave Sammy my phone so she could tell me if Ada told me my next trial and I went upstairs to my room. I went to my bathroom, locked the door, and pulled my dress off. I snuffed my cigarette and threw it in the trashcan. I stared at myself for a minute--taking in the dirt-covered hair, sunken eyes, scarred and bruised face--before taking off my bra and non-matching underwear. I wrapped one arm around myself--shivering from the sudden cold--and turned the water on. I waited until it was warm to plug the drain. Showers were for grownups and I was so far from being a grownup. I slid into the warm water and closed my eyes. Once the water was right to the brim, I turned the water off with my foot and submerged myself completely. 

I stayed under the water probably longer than I should have. 

When I popped back up, my fingers were already pruned and whatever was left of my makeup was running down my face. I reached over and grabbed my shampoo. When I resurfaced after submerging again to wash away the shampoo, the water was a murky brownish color. I finished washing myself and got out. 

I walked back into my room wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around my body. My hair hung loose and was slightly wavy from being wet. 

I didn't expect Sammy to be sitting on my bed, thumbing through one of the books I had in my room but never read. She looked up and set the book down. I caught the title: Satanism in the early 1600s. Something Lucy would read; not Sammy. 

"You're not dressed," she stated. 

"I just took a bath. Of course I'm not dressed," I said, suddenly self-conscious of my body. I was never self-conscious of my body. I absently traced one of the tattoos on my arm.

Sammy blinked and pulled her shirt off. 

"What the hell are you doing?!" I exclaimed, ignoring the tattoo. 

"Becoming not-dressed, too," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I stared at her in complete shock as she wiggled out of her pants and sat daintily on my bed in nothing but (matching) red lingerie. 

The next thing I knew was that I was kissing her. She pulled my towel off and I unclasped her bra. The rest of what happened was a blur that I barely even remembered. 

All I know was that I woke up to an empty bed with no clothes on and I could hear the distant whir of a blender. 

I climbed out of bed and pulled my pajamas on--not knowing what time of the day it was and not even caring. I shuffled down to the kitchen and sleepily leaned against the doorframe. Glitch stood at the counter, behind a blender. It took me a second to realize that his hand was inside the blender while it was on. 

"Glitch! What the hell?!" I exclaimed, suddenly not tired anymore. I marched over to the counter and  stood across from him. Blood shot up from the blender and splattered both of us. I frowned, knowing I would have to take another bath. Glitch didn't seem to notice or care; he was already drenched in his own blood. 

"Hell Hound food." He shrugged. "I's told that it's possible that if ya blend up your flesh an' blood an' bones an' leave it out for the Hell Hounds, they'll leave ya alone. I wanna trick them into thinking Thomason's dead already so they won't kill him." He held up his left hand and I saw a silver band around his ring finger. 

"Who proposed?" I asked, trying to figure out who in hell would tell Glitch to blend up his flesh and blood and bones to feed to Ada's damned Hell Hounds.

 "I did." Obviously. 

"Now, Glitchy dearest, tell me who the hell told you to blend your fucking hand. Wait. No. Imma gonna guess. Was it . . . did you somehow contact . . . Lucy?" I hated saying her name. I hated her. She deserved to die. 

"Wasn't Lucy. I'm pissed at 'er, too." He turned the blender off and poured the remains of his hand into a bowl. It was mushy and red and I saw bits of bone and marrow mixed in. I looked away before I could see his mauled hand. 

"Jemma? She lives in Hell so maybe . . ." I trailed off. 

"Nope. It was Gabriel." My eyes widened. 

"You fucking took advice from Gabriel?!" I exclaimed. 

"Well . . . Shit, Bandit. Thomason and I are s'posed to get married and I can't get married to 'im if he's dead, okay? I can't feel it and I don't care if I'm one-handed for the rest of m'life. I'm left-handed, anyways." He grabbed a towel--one of my nicer white ones--and wrapped it around his hand--what was left of it, anyways. He took the bowl with his other hand and walked outside. I followed him just to see what he was doing. 

He set the bowl right outside our property line and dashed back inside. I lingered outside to see what would happen. 

I stayed out there for maybe five minutes before I saw them. 

I imagined the Hell Hounds as maybe oversized Rottweiler-black lab mixes with red eyes. 

Holy shit that was nothing near what the Hell Hounds were. 

They were huge. Maybe six feet on all fours. And there were four of them. They each had a sleek black pelt and I only knew that they had eyes because when they walked, the moon reflected off of their black irises. They had giant, sharp claws and upright ears like a doberman. They were so skinny, I could see their entire skeleton through their fur. 

Then I saw a fifth. 

The fifth one was nothing like the other four. It walked on two legs and stood over eight feet. Its body was covered in black fur, similar to the other four, and it had hair sprouting from its head. The hair was also jet black and fell down its back in a tangle. Black upright ears peaked through the nest of hair. 

But what scared me the most was its face. 

Instead of a doggish face like the others, it had a skull. It was a dog's skull, by the looks of it, but it was a yellowed skull with reddish-brownish teeth and milky white orbs where the eyes would be. 

The misshapen one let out a strangled cry--howl?--and charged towards the bowl of Glitch's hand. The other four barked loudly and chased after it. 

I took my chances and turned and ran back inside, locking every damn lock on the door, and hid in my room. 

I had heard those barking dogs almost every night and I never cared to think that our only neighbors were miles upon miles away.