Page 46 of How to Flirt with a Hellhound
I grunted. Fingernail removal wasn’t as truly horrific as the movies made it out to be. There were really much better method of torture.
“There’s always going old school,” I threw in.
Toby cocked his head curiously. “Old school?”
“You know, like medieval torture devices. They came up with some truly horrifying stuff. You could have your witch guy thrown in an oubliette to suffer a slow and horrifying death, only of course he gets saved. Then you could have some of the more graphic torture devices used on the evil vampire,” I said.
I heard the clacking of Toby’s computer. “Oh man,” he said, and it sounded equal parts fascinated and freaked out. “Oh, gross, rats,” he muttered. I knew I had lost him to research, as he started muttering about iron maidens and pears of anguish.
Ah, the good old days. Although really most of those devices had been used on innocents, but the evil humans who had delighted in their use had a special place in hell reserved just for them.
As Toby got absorbed in his work, I figured he wanted some privacy—that was totally a human thing that they apparently liked—plus, I had a flower shop owner to go torture. I wasn’t going to wait until nightfall. I’d rather be back with Toby by then.
“Are you ok here alone? Do you want Corbin or Jude to come over? I have to run some errands,” I said.
He paused to look up at me, obviously weighing his decision.
“Unless you’d rather I stay here,” I added. Jude or Corbin were perfectly capable of handling the flower shop owner, even if I really did want to do it myself.
“No, I’m ok. Maybe they could just, I don’t know, hang out on your front porch and keep an eye out? And let me know if they leave or anything?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said. “Someone will always be here.” I walked over and kissed him on the head. “I’ll think of some torture methods for the bad guy, ok?” I said.
He smiled up at me sweetly. “Thank you,” he said, then he was back to his computer, scrolling through a site that had pictures of medieval devices and mumbling to himself.
He was so cute.
With that thought, I let myself out, being sure to lock the door behind me, and headed over to fill Jude and Corbin in and to give Liam a call. There was work to be done, including some fun torture methods to figure out for Toby’s book.
It wasn’t difficult to track down Kurt, the owner of the flower shop. Finding his address had taken Liam about three seconds. He’d looked into the shop and Kurt’s funds, as well, and had noted some abnormally large cash transactions for a flower shop (everyone used credit cards these days). Unfortunately, Toby’s stalker hadn’t used a credit card, and any records kept online were sketchy at best.
Liam had mentioned coming to the area “to check things out,” and as annoying as he could be, I wouldn’t mind the extra eyes to watch over Toby.
By the time I got to Kurt’s house, it was late afternoon. He lived in a slightly more urban area about twenty minutes from his shop, and his house was large but certainly not a mansion. Luckily, it also had lots of property, so neighbors calling the cops about screaming was not going to be a problem.
Hopefully he didn’t have anyone locked up in the basement. I didn’t think the oracle would want to adopt another stray human. There were a few other afterlifers in town… But I was getting ahead of myself. No strays would be much better.
As I got out of the car, I took a deep breath in. The stench of a rotten soul was unmistakable.
Unfortunately, so was the smell of smoke and brimstone.
Motherfucker.
I didn’t bother with being quiet as I stalked up to the house and in the front door, following my nose to a door that led down steps. Of course they were in the basement, and above the smell of fresh blood, I could smell the coppery undertones of old blood.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and heard whimpering, looking over to see a big guy with short brown hair dangling from a hook in the ceiling. He was naked with a few cuts and bruises, but nothing major. His eyes were pleading with me, but he could only get out muffled whimpers since he was gagged. He got more insistent, shooting his eyes behind me, and I turned around.
“Atlas,” I mumbled, folding my arms across my chest. “This was supposed to be my job.”
The guy behind me screeched behind the gag, and I heard him thrashing about. I ignored it, staring at Atlas.
He was sitting on a stool against the back wall, wearing jeans and no shirt. He wore a cap over his dark hair and had a scraggly beard, and I wondered how long he had even been in his human form. Atlas preferred his hellhound form. He was… a wee bit feral.
He gestured toward the guy. “I didn’t kill him. I just subdued and tenderized him a bit for you.”
I sighed, looking back over at the guy. Hewasin good shape, just a wee bit bruised. I could smell the rot and decay on his soul, a stench he couldn’t hide.
“What are you doing here?” I asked without looking away from the human.
