CHAPTER FIVE
Layla frowned at her daughter. Annabelle had been at the window looking out over the yard all evening. She was never this quiet at night. She was always bubbling with anticipation for something, or brimming with questions that needed to be answered. But tonight, she sat quietly in the window nook and just watched the snow falling in fat fluffy flakes.
“Belle, come away from the window now, the hot chocolate will be ready in a minute. I will let you have ten marshmallows tonight.” Layla hated trying to bribe her child, but cinnamon-laced hot chocolate with marshmallows usually did the trick.
The little girl remained silent for a few moments, her legs curled under her, then she waved at the window and turned around to face her mother.
“Okay, Mommy. Do you think he will be all right outside?” She padded on bare feet across the rug-covered floor, dropping down before the fire.
“Do I think who will be all right?” Layla looked toward the window, a shiver rushing over her skin. She had felt like someone was watching her all day—there was no malice in it, but still, it unnerved her. The fact her daughter seemed to know more than she didn’t help matters.
“The dog, he is talking now, he says you helped him remember words.” Layla looked sharply at her child then back to the window. So it was talking to her daughter. If any doubt remained in her mind that her child had inherited her gift of animal speech it was gone now.
In the hopes of distracting her, Layla moved to the chest of drawers near the door, pulling out her daughter’s paper and crayons. She laid them down and knelt before her. Annabelle smiled up at her mother and eagerly took the art supplies.
“Okay, Belle, draw me a picture of him. Maybe he would like that.” Hell, if it got her child’s mind off the murderous wolf hybrid thing in the yard she would let her kid paint the walls.
Lexi walked over to them with a tray heaped with marshmallows and three cups of hot chocolate, one lukewarm, of course. She knelt and turned her eyes to her sister; it was clear she was just as concerned that Annabelle seemed to have become obsessed by the animal that nearly killed her just this morning. Grabbing her mug and a handful of the sugary treats, Lexi dropped them in her cup and moved beside her twin.
“He was in the barn, but he didn’t hurt any of the animals. He did upset everyone though.” Lexi sipped her cocoa and rubbed Layla’s back.
Layla shook her head and turned to regard her child again. Thank god she was happily drawing the “wolf” and didn’t seem to be tempted back to the window. What worried her most was she had never seen her daughter acting this way with any of the other animals before. She often spent time with them but did not spend long hours in silence, evidently having a conversation with one.
“I’m not even sure what IT is. Some kind of hybrid, I think. I’ve seen most of the supernatural animals of the world, but this one is a first.” Moving to sit on the couch before the fire, she curled her feet up under her as her sister handed her a steaming mug of decadent sweetness.
She lifted the cup to her lips and hissed as pain rushed down her arm. Lexi looked at her twin sharply, sighing deeply and shaking her head. She put her mug down and moved to sit beside her sister.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were still hurting?” The scold in her voice was plain.
“I had forgotten about it until now. It’s nothing, Lex, honestly, it just aches a little.” Her sister was a gifted healer. She could heal almost any injury or illness, but it came at a huge cost, one Layla was not willing to pay for a small ache in her arm.
“I will be the judge of that. Arm, now.” Layla was resistant so Lexi just grabbed her sister’s arm and held the wrist tight. “Shut it and let me work.”
Layla sighed and relented to her twin. When Lexi got the drive to heal it was nearly impossible to stop her. She did, however, try to do it in small increments so the backlash was not so bad for her own body.
As she watched, Lexi’s head dropped to her chest, her hands still on her wrist. Layla could feel a warm tingling spreading from the skin-on-skin contact The soft warmth began to grow hotter, but it never became painful. She watched as her sister’s skin began a soft shimmering, almost like she was dusted with glitter powder. Then it vanished, and Lexi opened her eyes, pain etched on her face. She dropped her sister’s arm and shook out her own matching arm, wincing a little.
“Geez, Layla, that was a lot of damage. It hurts. I know you don’t like me taking on the injury, but my body heals itself in no time.” Lexi continued to shake out the numb hand as Layla pulled Lexi into a hug and held her until her twin struggled to be released.
“I hate it, I hate that you have to experience the pain when you heal me—hell, when you heal the animals it’s no different. I see how much it hurts you. You think I like that?”
“Get over it, not like it has not been like this my whole life. You remember what mother said. If I decide to heal someone it is my choice and I must live with the repercussions. Besides, in twenty minutes my body will heal itself; one advantage to this ‘gift’ is any injury I take, my body heals a hundred times faster. So stop worrying, you will get wrinkles.”
Layla gasped and put her fingers to her forehead, rubbing out the frown lines, and watched her sister break into a fit of laughter.
“That was not very nice, you know!” Glaring at her sister, she grabbed her mug again and took a long sip, feeling no pain at all from her arm.
“Yeah, I know, but you love me anyway.” The pair turned their eyes to the crackling fire.
“Yeah, well I am the youngest, so you will get old before me.” Layla snorted.
“By like five minutes, and besides, if I am old, you’re aging!” That earned her a pillow to the face and laughter that filled the room. For a moment, the beast lurking outside the door was forgotten.
He could hear the laughter coming from inside the cabin, the welcoming light warming to his eyes. He emerged slowly from the shadows, the darkness long fallen, hiding his body from the light. As he neared the window he lifted his muzzle and breathed out hard against the glass. He could see them inside, the young one beside the fire, the moody sister, and the one that had saved him. The one that chased away the madness with her magic and her voice.
He could smell her through the window, and he felt like he would never smell anything so wonderful again—sweet and alluring and unique. He listened, the words floating to his ears, her voice as liquid as the chocolate she lifted to her lips. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to feel her fingers in his fur. He wanted her to trust him, to know she had saved him and he would protect her for it.
He shrank down quickly when she turned to look toward the window. His heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t want to be driven from her; if he had to remain hidden, so be it. She knew he was here, of course she did. There was something powerful about her, she had a subtle energy that hummed around her. He laid himself down on the cool wood, the snow melting on his fur and dripping to the porch as he rested his head on his front paws and listened to the laughter. He felt a pang in his chest; something was missing. He could finally put a name to the empty feeling in his chest—family—he missed his family.
Shaking his large head, he tried to clear the fog from his brain. He had a family? He felt like he did, like he had people important to him. He wanted to rage at his lack of memory. He was a blank slate of nothing but primal urges. But being here outside the window, he knew he once had what the female was experiencing. He wanted it back, but how could he find himself again? He couldn’t even remember what he had looked like before. Maybe it was just a form of his madness making him think he was more than this monster hunting in the darkness.
“Mommy! I’m finished with the picture. Look!” The excited voice of the young female reached his ears and he lifted his head, looking into the window again. The small girl held a piece of paper before her mother and the woman was frowning at the drawing.
“Belle, this is a picture of a man, not a dog. You were going to draw me a picture of him, right?”
“But it is him, Mommy, it’s the real him.” The little girl turned the picture back around and looked down at it with a smile.
The real him? Was it possible she had power like her mother? That she could see something inside him he had forgotten? Standing, he moved from the patio, his paws sinking into the rapidly gathering snow. He would need to reach out to them; maybe they could help him remember.
The darkness swallowed him, the soft crunching of the snow under his paws loud to his ears. He needed to see how far away from her presence he could be before the madness overcame him again. The buzzing was already increasing in his brain, and he could still see the glow of the fire from the cabin. Pausing to shake the gathering snow from his fur he turned back around. This was going to be problematic. Fear bit at him—if he went too far he might not be able to pull himself back again.
The sound of a door opening and closing seemed to echo in the night, and he tilted his head to the side, listening to the deep breathing that sounded so close to his ears.
“I know you are out here. Come out.” Her soft order should have riled him, but he felt drawn to her. He took a step forward, and another, his usual reservations about emerging from the darkness gone.
When he walked into the light she gasped and licked her lips. Keeping his distance, he sat back on his haunches and watched the female. She smelled like home, warm and sweet, and he wanted more. He resisted the urge to move forward again, the silence stretching between them. Her heart was racing in her chest, but at least she did not smell of fear. She was angry, and maybe a little worried, but she didn’t seem to fear him.
“I would appreciate it if you would stop hanging around my home.” The great beast just stared at her. She rubbed her arms, pulling the blanket she wore tighter around her shoulders.
I cannot. You help.
His voice seemed to buzz in her mind, his words broken and hesitant. He did not sound like any animal she had ever communicated with before. His voice was almost human to her, and it made her tummy do funny flops, which she staunchly put down to nerves.
“I help? You need help? That is what I am here for.”
The great beast shook his head quickly.
Not help, you help.
She shook her head and frowned. He said he needed help. No, wait, he said “you help.” What did she help with? She took another hesitant step forward, the fresh snow crunching under her boots.
“I help you? Look, my daughter seems to think you are some kind of pet project she’s been dreaming about. Me? I am not sure you are not going to snap and attack her again.” Although he didn’t seem to be violent any longer, she could not shake the image of him charging from the forest, her daughter in his sights.
I am… sorry.
Layla swallowed hard. Animals had no sense of regret or wrongdoing, not really. They were just following instinct. Hell, they were not sorry for any action they took; simply because each action was natural, they could justify it. But he said he was sorry. She thought about the picture Annabelle had drawn of the wolf as a man. Was it possible he was a shifter stuck in some cursed form? Licking dry lips, she felt herself taking another step forward again. Damn it, she could be wrong, she needed to be sure.
“What are you sorry for?”
Scaring the young one, scaring you. I am lost, nothing remains. You brought back the words.
His voice rumbled through her brain, his words portraying the depth at which he was hurting. This beast did not need physical healing, he needed help mentally. Layla pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and then lifted her hand slowly.
The beast before her raised his head quickly and she almost lost her nerve. Waiting, he watched as she slowly took one step after another toward him until her fingers brushed over his warm head. His fur was surprisingly soft, and it made her skin tingle. With a frown, she watched as it seemed to move between her fingers like smoke. It was the strangest sensation she had ever experienced. The great beast had his head down, but she had no doubt his height would put him near her shoulder.
A memory pulled at her, something in the back of her mind. When it was clear all the beasts of the world would come to her for aid, her mother had bought every book she could on animals and mythical beasts so Layla would have some clue as to what she would be communicating with. She remembered a page on darker beasts—those that inhabited the underworld and protected it from invasion. He was not a full hellhound, but he was damn close. The smoke-like fur and the huge size all pointed to him being from the underworld.
“I think I know what you are. A hellhound, maybe not a full one, but no other species has fur like shadow.” He made a low rumbling noise as she rubbed her fingers deeper against his pointed ears.
A memory, it is familiar. He moved so he was lying at her feet. Layla slowly followed him until she knelt before him, her fingers deep in his shadow-like fur. He seemed to be enjoying every second of this, pushing himself against her hand, seeking more of her touch.
“Okay, so I help you remember. If the way my daughter sees you is correct, and I tend to think she sees things I can’t, then you may not be just a hellhound.” She couldn’t stop touching him. Her fingers wanted to sink deeper into his fur, and he just lay there enjoying her touch. She could’ve sworn he was making low purring sounds. Did hellhounds purr?