Page 50 of Hounded: Ashes to Ashes

I nodded. “I used to not know a lot of things, but my instincts are good. They always told me to stay with you.”

He worked his jaw while considering a reply that never came. With a parting glance at Whitney, he dipped his chin in mute concession.

I led him to the living area and found a couple of cushions where we sat. Sully followed, but Whitney and the newbies hung back until she waved them in.

Everyone settled in a haphazard circle, noticeably divided with Sully and me bridging the gap between Loren and the other hounds.

“Shall we get introduced?” Sully asked once we were all seated.

Whitney cleared his throat. “This is Dottie and Gunnar.” He gestured to Brass Knuckles first, then Gym Bro. “They are both exceptional fighters, and they’ve agreed to aid our cause.”

“Why?” Loren asked.

Trying to cozy up beside him was about as much fun as cuddling a stack of bricks. He was rigid and nowhere near pacified.

Whitney groaned. “I miss when you were silent.” He rolled his head toward Loren while wearing an exaggerated look of exasperation. “Why what?”

“Why do they care what happens to us? To Indy?” Loren replied. “For that matter, why doyou?”

If they were always like this, their century of shared servitude must have been intense. I was inclined to stuff the two of them in a get along shirt, but Loren’s concerns were valid. Sully must have agreed because she didn’t insert herself this time.

“As you were so keen to point out,” Whitney began, “I am partly responsible for this situation, and I would like to make amends.”

“Why?” Loren repeated.

Whitney slumped backward. “Lorenzo…”

Sully held up her hand. “Let’s table that,” she told him, then turned to Dottie and Gunnar. “Nice to meet you both. We’re glad to have you.”

I nestled against Loren again and smoothed my palm down his thigh as though I could work the tension out that way.

“I’ll answer him,” Dottie volunteered.

I glanced over in time to see her nod toward Loren.

“I know whyI’mhere, at least,” she added. The winged liner around her blue eyes made them look sharp as they swept across the gathering. “It’s chaos down there. In Hell. Since the mistress left, the hounds are in revolt. Most have been rounded up and forced back into the kennels to wait for Nero’s instruction, whichI assume will be more of the same. Find the bird and bring it back. There have been mentions of a prize for the winner. A chance to ascend to Heaven.”

“They’d never give that to a hound,” Whitney grumbled.

“Anything is better than being trapped in those damned cages,” Gunnar countered.

I rubbed Loren’s leg until he caught my hand and held it. He never did tell me what happened during his time with Nero, but all this talk about Moira and the kennels and the horrors of Hell provided plenty of fodder for my imagination.

It also made the stakes painfully clear. What everyone stood to gain. Or lose.

“So, you’re passing up the chance to go to Heaven to be here?” I asked.

Loren’s fingers tightened around mine as he leaned toward Dottie and asked, “Or were you hoping to get your salvation direct from the source?”

The female hound sat straight in the face of Loren’s scrutiny. “Waiting for Nero is waiting for a new leash,” she said. “Our collars are gone, tethers broken. We’re as free as we can hope to be. I have more faith in that than a slim chance of redemption.”

Loren seemed to accept that and quiet fell again.

Beside me, Gunnar wrung his thick fingers together. When he turned toward me, a frown cut lines in his stubbled cheeks.

“Is it true, though?” he asked. “Could you help us get into Heaven?”

The question hung in the air, and I felt like I was hanging with it. If what we’d seen could be believed, my tearshadredeemed a demon. Maybe I could do the same for other demonic creatures. But I hadn’t cried since I’d filled that vial. I’d felt every sensation except the actual wetness running down my cheeks.

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