“No change.”
“Sorry to hear that.” His words were genuine, as was his aura. It was a good color full of orange (which was uplifting and inspiring) and turquoise (energizing and dynamic). His name was Colin Sturgess and I met him on day two of Sam being gone.
I had come to visit Mom as I did today, parking miles (that day it was three) away from the hospital. When I got there, I was so sweaty and beet-red the woman at the information desk thought I was coming in to be seen at the emergency room. It would have been funny if it didn’t speak volumes as to how out of shape I was and just how bad I looked after everything happened. I was trying to convince her that I didn’t need medical attention and that the wound on my cheek was fine (it’s still kind of raw, but its healing—AKA turning into a scar) when Colin walked by and stepped in to tell her that, clearly, I just needed some cold water and a seat. He was a friendly man whose skin crinkled around his eyes when he smiled and his hair was gray at the temples. He had broad shoulders and was tall, but his middle had gone soft probably years before.
The pair made me sit there at her desk until I drank half a bottle of water, explained to them that I was there to visit my mother and that I had decided to take up running because I thought it was a good use of time to do it on the way to the hospital.
The lady at the desk thought I was crazy.
Colin laughed and said he liked my style.
He walked me to my mother’s room (partly because he didn’t believe my story about her even being there), then asked me how I planned to get back to my car. I was completely dumbfounded. I hadn’t even thought about getting back to my car and I wasn’t up for another three-mile run in the afternoon sun. He saw the stricken look on my face and volunteered to drive me to my car.
He’s been doing it ever since.
I gazed out the window at the passing greenery and thought about how very long ago that seemed. Yet, it had only been three days.
“Parked a little farther away today?” Colin asked when we passed the spot I had parked yesterday.
“Yeah, it’s just ahead down here.” I pointed.
“Are you training for a 10K or something?”
“I, uh, want to run track at school. I’m trying to get my run time down over the summer.”
He nodded appreciatively. “That’s a real good thing to be into. Keeps you out of trouble.”
If he only knew. Gran’s car came into view and I gathered up my backpack and fished the keys from my pocket. “Thank you for the ride.”
“Sure thing, kid.” He grinned and popped a piece of Trident in his mouth. “Gum?” He tilted the pack in my direction.
“No, thanks.”
He tucked the pack back into the pocket of his shirt and saluted me. “See you tomorrow, kid.”
“My name is Heven,” I grumbled, climbing out of his cruiser.
“I know.” He laughed. It was a merry sound and I found myself smiling.
He waited, as he always does, until I was in my car with the engine running before he pulled away. I did a U-turn and headed back the way I came. Hopefully, Cole and Gemma had found something in the books that we overlooked before.
The interior of the car was hot from sitting in the sun and I leaned forward to adjust the air-conditioning. When I straightened, I glanced in the rearview mirror and let out a scream.
A huge, black demon filled the back seat.
As I stared, he lifted his hand, revealing a gleaming row of razor-sharp claws.
Chapter Two
Sam
I have known pain. I have known longing. I have known death.
But this, I have never known this. To be confined… day after day, to hear silence so loud that I want to slap my hands over my ears and scream just for relief. To have my bones continuously knock against my skin because they are vibrating with the force of my anger.
I feel caged. Frustrated.
Damned.
I may be a hellhound, but this is the first time I’ve ever felt like an animal.
I paced the small “room,” my hands clenched into fists, and considered my options for the millionth time. I wouldn’t give up. But the truth… The truth of the matter was I really was trapped.
With a burst of overwhelming frustration, I hurled myself at the doorway again. I hit the solid, yet invisible, force field with a loud crack and I stumbled backward. A warm, metallic taste filled my mouth. I’d bitten my tongue. I vaguely wondered if blood was considered calories—for anyone other than a vampire. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food… I had never been this hungry before. I had never known this kind of gut-gnawing, consistent pain through my abdomen as my body searched for something… something other than what it was getting.
That thought cut off all thoughts of food. The last thing I wanted to do was think about what I had been eating in order to stay alive. I glanced back at the force field, angry at the way it taunted me. The cell I was trapped in didn’t have a door like the other cells in the dungeon because I had destroyed it the first time Hecate flung me in here; so it appeared that there was nothing holding me in. It appeared that I could just walk right on out whenever I wanted. But the force field was there… silent but needing no words. Clear but needing no matter. It was virtually nothing, yet encompassed everything.
My body ached from throwing myself against the force field so many times and I sank down to the floor. I glanced down at the cut on my bicep, the result of the demon who had taken up residence inside my little brother. It wasn’t healing like it should, but it didn’t appear to be getting infected. The entire left side of my ribcage was broken, the result of being thrown into a large rock that jutted out of the nothingness here in hell. They weren’t healing like they should, either. Of course, throwing myself into a force field constantly wasn’t helping.
Right next to me, a large jug of water appeared out of nowhere. I snatched it up before it could disappear (that happened once—on day two), uncapped it, and took a long, greedy drink. The first swallow scraped the inside of my throat, but I didn’t care. I needed this water. I didn’t know how long it had been since my last “water allowance,” but it had been too long. When half the jug was gone, I forced it from my lips and tucked it in my lap, keeping my hands around it. I should save some for later, in case the next one didn’t come for a day or two.
I told myself it was a good thing Hecate (or someone) was making water appear for me. It meant they didn’t want me dead. I leaned my head against the wall… No, they didn’t want me dead. They wanted me for something else.