Heven & Hell Anthology (Heven and Hell) (7 page)

The sun was setting and the sky wasn’t dark yet, but it wasn’t still light, either… it was that strange in-between hour when day bled into night. The night was cool and I considered stopping to pull on the hoodie in my bag, but I decided against it, not wanting to stop even for a second.

In the distance I heard the rumble of a train, but I ignored it. It wouldn’t be close for a while so I kept walking, staring down at the tracks as they passed beneath my feet. Soon, everything around me fell into shadows and my skin prickled with cold. Behind me, the harsh, bright light of the train pierced the dark. Everything in its path was illuminated, including me. I looked over my shoulder at the train, a little startled that it was getting so close.

Now would be a good time to step off the track and grab my hoodie. Except when I tried to step off the track… my body wouldn’t cooperate. A second of panic seared me and I shook it off. No reason to be afraid, this was my body and it would do what I wanted. Again, I tried to step off the track.

My feet moved, but not in the direction that I intended. My body performed an about-face, staring up at the oncoming train. I jerked away, trying to leap from the track, but once again, I was frozen. It was like something was holding my body where it stood and wouldn’t let go.

Meanwhile, the massive steel train was barreling toward me at a speed that couldn’t be matched. The circular light on the front blinded me and I threw up an arm to shield my eyes. I had to get off this track! It wasn’t slowing down; the driver probably couldn’t see me.

I struggled to jump off to the side, and once again, my body would not obey. What was wrong with it—with me? Why wouldn’t it do what I wanted?! As a hellhound I was supposed to have lightning-fast reflexes and unparalleled senses. Couldn’t the hound in me sense that I was about to be torn apart by this train?

Adrenaline was surging through my body, and my heart felt like it might explode from exertion. Sweat dripped from my hairline and onto my shirt and all the muscles in my body were quivering.

Is this how I would die?

Would I feel the impact, the crush of my bones, the heat of the metal? Would the pain be so inescapable that I pass out immediately or would I just die instantly?

The whistle on the train blew; the high-pitched sound pierced the night sky and my ears began to ring.
Move, get off, run!
I tried to order
my body, to warn it of the danger, but to no avail. I couldn’t move.

Break,
the voice whispered.

Yes!
I answered.
I am going to break! Help me!
With one last futile effort, I looked back at the train, so close now I could make out the gears moving behind the steel. I could smell the breaks trying to slow and see the conductor way up in the driver’s seat as he waved and screamed for me to get out of the way.

I started to cry. To sob, really. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want any of this. My vision began to dim, and I knew that I was going to pass out. I knew these were my last thoughts, my last moments alive.

Submit. Let go of the control,
the voice whispered.

I didn’t understand. Was I supposed to stop fighting? Was I supposed to just accept my death? Accept being demolished like this in the middle of nowhere? Would anyone even notice or care that I was gone?

Steam from the train’s chimney flooded the air around me and I felt like I was choking on smoke, being suffocated. I began to cough and wheeze.

Give in.

Yes,
I thought.
I give in. I submit.

Just like that, my body was flung to the side. The hot metal of the train actually brushed against my shoe as I was thrown out of the way. So close. So incredibly close. The noise it made as it rumbled by was overwhelming and I thought for sure my heart would never recover. I pushed my face into the hard, cold dirt on the ground and covered my ears with my hands. I let out a scream, a tortured wail, that was drowned out by the rushing train.

I was alive. I wasn’t dead.

I don’t know how long I lay there, catching my breath, feeling my heart pound, but eventually, I couldn’t hear the train anymore. Even still, I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t move from this safe spot.

After a while, my brain began to work again; I could form coherent thought. And the thoughts that came rushing at me were confusing. Was I finally able to move, to jump from harm’s way because I gave in—I submitted? How can I submit to myself? I couldn’t.

Unless the hellhound in me thought that it was going to take over.

That would
not
happen. My father’s words came rushing back to me.
I expect you to be strong enough to handle yourself, to know who you really are.

But what if I wasn’t strong enough?

The thought left me drained. I was exhausted and I didn’t want to think at all. Thankfully, I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was in Portland. I had no idea how I got here and I didn’t really want to know. I was still a little shaken up from the incident so I decided just to explore the city for a while. It turned out that Portland was a good place to blend in. No one seemed to notice a fourteen-year-old wandering alone, living on the street. I found this park; it had a fountain in the center and it called to me. I couldn’t understand why I felt so drawn to it, but I went there anyway and sat on a nearby bench just watching the water fall. Someone approached me from behind and I pulled my backpack into my lap. The streets were tough and people wouldn’t think twice about stealing from you. I knew because I stole from people all the time. I waited for the footsteps to move around me, to lead away.

They stopped behind me and I felt the presence, just standing there, stalking and staring.

I ignored the person, practically inviting them to try something. I clenched my fist, ready to strike out at the figure behind me when my attention was caught by another person on the other side of the park. This one seemed to be focused on me as well, changing his path to put me directly in it. He was wearing a big jacket, with the hood pulled up. Then more people seemed to swarm out of the shadows until I was surrounded by five people.

It wasn’t the first time I had fought on the street. I never lost.

But it was never five against one before.

You can take them. Never back down.

I burst off the bench, tossing my bag into the air, distracting them, kicking out my leg and taking out the footing of the two people closest to me. They fell in a tangle of limbs and that was it for my distraction. My bag fell and one of the men caught it. Rage filled me. That was
my
bag—everything I owned—and they were not taking it from me.

With a roar, I launched myself at the one holding my bag and hit him from the side, knocking him off balance. We both went down and I landed on top. As I began choking him, the hood had fallen off his head. He had dark hair and eyes. I stared into those eyes and gave him “the look” that I had long since learned so well. His eyes widened and he began to struggle. I tightened my hold on his neck and he began to claw at my hands.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

I would have killed him. But one of his friends came to the rescue and knocked me away. Before I could stand, I was grabbed from both sides and my arms were pinned. The guy I was strangling stood, hands at his throat, and he sneered.

“Whatever’s in that bag must really be something if you’re willing to fight for it so bad.” He picked it up and shrugged it over his shoulder. Then on his way past, he buried his fist into my gut. I doubled over in pain and the two holding me released me, thinking I would go down.

Make him pay for that.

I reached out, grabbing the two men closest to me and smashed them together, spinning away as they crumpled to the ground. I went after the one with my bag, but two more guys stepped in my path.

I started fighting with them, taking punches, throwing them. Until one of the men pulled out a knife. Its silver blade glinted beneath the moon.

I crouched low, ready to face my opponent when a flash of black shot over my shoulder. A huge animal lunged at the two men. Their screams pierced the night, high, terrified wails that were abruptly silenced by an equally deafening growl. One of the men swayed on his feet and I thought he might fall, but then he found his footing and shot forward, desperate to get away.

But there was no getting away from this beast.

One swipe of a massive paw with lethal claws and his fear was over. So was his life.

The man with my bag over his shoulder stumbled, knowing his cohort was dead, knowing that he was next.

It was interesting to watch someone being stalked. Watching the exact moment that they realized these were the last moments of life they would know. The black beast prowled toward the man who was begging, stumbling and shaking. The creature seemed to revel in the hunt, the kill.

Fear tastes good.
I shook my head against the voice. Yet, part of me agreed.

All too easily, he was tackled to the ground with a sickening crack. I saw the beast raise its claws and I wanted to look away. I tried. But just like before, I was frozen, unable to do what I wanted. I watched as the man was slaughtered. His skin was literally flayed open with ease—like a knife going through butter. Since I couldn’t look away, I closed my eyes, shutting off the view of what lay beneath the man’s skin. His murder lasted mere seconds, but it was still beyond brutal. The smell of blood, sharp and pungent, permeated the air.

The others had taken their chance and disappeared, not loyal to the ones being attacked at all. But I realized I would have done the same thing.
Every man for himself,
I thought. I was ashamed that I would think only of myself, but I didn’t have long to dwell on it because the animal was prowling toward me. I looked straight at it, refusing to cower, and then shock reverberated through me.

It was a hellhound!

“Sam,” I whispered, my chest tightening so much that I could hardly breathe. I finally found him. Sam was clutching the bag in his jaws and when he got closer, he dropped it at my feet.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” I exclaimed.

Sam began to shift, a process that took only seconds and didn’t appear to hurt at all. This confused me because it hurt so badly when I shifted… but my thoughts were interrupted because before me stood a girl.

She was naked.

This
was not my brother.

The woman smirked, tossed back her very long, very dark hair and brushed by me where she picked up a blood-red trench coat that was lying on the ground. She slipped into it and belted the waist. Her eyes turned to me and she smiled. “I’m China.”

“You’re a hellhound,” I said, shocked.

“Just like you.”

“How did you know?”