Page 18 of Muzzled

She leaned against the wall, amusement on her face. “I would definitely be up for that. I’ll text you my schedule tomorrow once Logan’s around to fill me in.” As he opened the door to leave, she grinned at him. “No goodbye handshake?”

“Right.” He extended his hand toward her, a small rush of warmth traveling through him when she accepted. “It’s truly been a pleasure.”

“Yes, it has.” She laughed, shaking his hand and her head. “Talk to you tomorrow, Ryan.”

*

Ryan pulled intoa dark parking lot behind a church and got out, staying tight to the shadows as he stripped down quickly and transformed. Avoiding the streetlights, he padded to the empty festival street, recoiling when the stench of the full garbage bins assaulted his senses.

With bars closing their doors early on Sundays, the sidewalks were empty. The few human scents he could pick out over the waste bins were weak and fading rapidly on the growing winds.

But one smell stood out.

The faint trace of the bloodline had morphed over the past two nights, taking on a hint of the woodsy, feral aroma accompanying a shift in the mind of the Pirithous.

Wherever it was now, the transformation was beginning. The man’s thoughts would be growing more primal and violent. He would be getting restless and unsettled, the internal changes the curse caused making it more and more difficult for him to shake off the disturbing and unrelenting bombardment of dark images and ideas.

He picked up his pace, a creeping panic rising in his bones as he began winding through the alleys, and the odor stayed with him, neither increasing nor decreasing in strength despite the winds funneling between the buildings.

The only thing that would bring about a change in the bloodline was the sighting of a hellhound. And that meant at some point in the past forty-eight hours, he’d encountered the Pirithous without realizing it.

Winding his way back to his car, he shifted and dressed quickly, anxious to return to his motel room and the notes he was now realizing were incomplete.

His target had seen him, had been walking the streets while he’d been in hound form. Somehow, he’d crossed paths while he hid in the shadows and triggered the blood of the Pirithous to begin shifting into the first stage of the curse.

With his focus so narrowed on the performers, artists, and patrons of the festival, he’d neglected to keep records of the few people he’d encountered during his late-night prowls. Mentally tossing them aside as little more than interruptions on his course, he’d inadvertently eliminated them from his list of potential marks.

Easing up on the gas, he dropped back to the posted speed limit and glanced in his rearview mirror to ensure he hadn’t been tagged racing through the deserted roads. After pulling into his parking spot, he turned off the engine and ran his hand through his hair.

He’d made a big mistake in narrowing his list too soon. Discounting a whole group of potential subjects would spike the small city’s murder rate if he didn’t take down his target before he inadvertently caused another hellhound sighting.

*

Pocketing his keys,he walked into the motel and began debating how—or if—he was going to report his failure to Seph and Hades.

Chapter Seven

Mike tore thepacking tape with her teeth and flattened it against the cardboard tube before setting it on the outgoing shipment pile Logan was carefully loading into his backpack.

“Better add the pastel ocean piece to the list of reprints,” she called out, reading over the unfilled orders. “And maybe another ten of the river ones.”

Logan leaned over her shoulder. “We’re running low on the whole set. The throne ones were flying on Saturday night.”

Jotting down a quick note, she looked over at the stacks of prints in the corner of the room. “As much as I love the order influx after an event, I hate the organizational nightmare it always brings.”

He grunted in agreement and hoisted his backpack over his shoulder. “Will you be here when I get back or is Romeo picking you up soon?”

Rolling her eyes, she tossed the packing tape at him. “Back off the poor guy,” she huffed, regretting telling her assistant about the awkward handshake that had ended her night three evenings prior. “After I showed him that monstrosity, I’m lucky he even texted me back.”

The piece sat in the corner of the room, the paint struggling to dry since a rain system had moved into the area.

Grabbing his key and phone, Logan saluted her on his way out the door. “If I miss you later, have fun tonight.”

The door creaked closed and she got to work, straightening up the packing supplies strewn around the room, keeping one eye on the clock to ensure she had enough time to get ready for her date.

Her date.

Stacking the flattened shipping tubes into a neat pile, she thought back to her call with Ryan the previous evening. She’d been alone in her suite, frantically sketching out the disturbing images plaguing her for two nights in a desperate hope to eliminate them from her head before night fell and she was kept awake again.

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