Chapter 14: Failure Is Not an Option Part One

Weird Nikki cuffed her hand to the side of her mouth and said, “You got yourself a beauty, Billy.” Then she spoke directly to Hellie.

“Hey, doll. Sorry to hear you lost your brother and got robbed while waiting for Billy at the train station. Small towns can be cray-cray.”

When I heard her say it back, my cover story—lie—sounded completely ludicrous, but it was working like a charm.

“I am so sorry for dropping this in your lap, Weird Nikki. Thanks for staying with her while I’m in class. I don’t think it’s good for her to be alone right now.”

“No worries, I got you.”

Her words sealed the deal—she even bought my story about why Hellie wasn’t talking and volunteered to bring Hellie some clothing.

I got so caught up in our conversation that I failed to notice that Hellie had slipped from my side.

Mid-sentence, a ruckus interrupted me.

I quickly shifted my focus and swiveled my chair around to investigate. I immediately noticed Hellie on the ground, looking up.

I tracked her gaze and saw a tiny moth flying.

“They get in here from time to time. Come back up here and sit down.”

I tried to mask the oddness with a chuckle as I returned to Weird Nikki.

But as I resituated, the moth brushed past me and floated out of the area.

In the video stream, I saw Hellie uncannily leap up from behind me, grappling for the moth.

She clung to the wall and then bounced out into the kitchen.

Her big reaction to the little creature was so fierce that it startled me, like a jump scare in the movies.

“What’s going on, Billy?”

Fumbling to address Weird Nikki, I could barely react when Hellie morphed into a dog mid-leap.

Looking wildly into the computer screen, I saw Weird Nikki’s mouth gape in astonishment.

She saw!

I didn’t need to say anything; my wide eyes expressed it all.

Oh crap.

I shut down my laptop.

Then, I squeaked out a command for Hellie to stop, but it didn’t register.

She had gone wild.

Barking.

Chasing.

And there was no stopping her.

I should have done more—maybe run into the adjoining space and gotten in her face.

Anything.

But I just stood there.

A part of me was numb, listening to the damage unfold. Another part was frantic. Hellie had changed into a dog on my live video chat.

How the hell was I going to explain that?

I don’t think “Oh, we were practicing a magic trick” would work.

Worst of all, Hellie disobeyed my ground rules, which I thought was impossible.

Feeling helpless, I smirked and thought maybe I should be grateful.

If Hellie had transformed into the beast-dog she was last night, my home would be unsalvageable.

But why hadn’t she?

She looked strikingly like Nightshade—sharp, angular ears, a black, silky, flowing mane, and feathered tail. I could see she was slightly wider, more jacked, and, in that heated moment, scarier.

Nightshade?

I told Hellie not to transform into her “beast” form unless I gave her the okay.

She went around my rule. Clever.

So, there must be a reason why you are not listening to me now.

I threw off the sullen state and started to think logically.

She’d only switched last time to protect me, so it couldn’t be a rando moth. Was I in danger?

I slid from where I was standing and peeked around the corner. Most of everything in the living room area was shredded or broken.

The moth used the high ceilings to its advantage, staying just out of range of Hellie’s powerful leaps, then swooping down to bait Hellie into wildly snapping and swiping.

The toying behavior reminded me of the moth attacks from my role-playing game. In The Lords of Omni, moths were familiars used for scouting and spying. They were fond of predatory play—just like this moth.

Armed with an idea, I ran and grabbed Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users.

I was sure that, when I scanned the “Archetypes” pages earlier, I saw an entry for moths… or was it butterflies?

Fragments of Hellie’s wild tussle flew past me, so I ducked into a corner, holding my grimoire. Huddling there, I opened it and flipped to “Archetypes.”

Bingo! I found the moth listed under the “Agents of the Dark Side of the Moon.”

I quickly zeroed in on the most crucial facts about the disruptive insect.

‘Moths draw their powers from the mysterious darkness of the moon. Their sensitivities allow them to carry messages to their users from the spirit and earthly realms.’

The staggering parallel between my role-playing game and my grimoire made me briefly pause.

‘They can also tap into the opponent’s intuition and psyche, forcing them to use their abilities against themselves. Marked by their nocturnal behavior, the moths only manifest for users that walk the path of darkness.’

Darkness—evil?

I kept reading.

Moths were nigh-indestructible, succumbing to only one weakness: the flames of hellfire.

Crash, bang, smash.

The echoes of the pandemonium grew louder with Hellie’s escalating ferocity.

Now that I know what I’m dealing with, I need to get Hellie under control before my home is completely thrashed.

I thumbed to the “Hellhound Archetype.”

Unfortunately, sifting through pages and pages of information didn’t go as fast as I liked. But I found two helpful entries.

One passage stated that ‘Once a hellhound sets its sights on its prey, it will not stop until one or the other is dead, or its user calls it off.’

Farther down, it was written, ‘Hellhounds seldom disobey their users. In those rare instances, they act on pure instinct to either protect their masters, reap a soul, or carry out an assassination that users find morally objectionable. Therefore, the users must exert an indomitable will to regain control.’

So she can disobey, but ultimately, I can stop her. The only problem is that I must be indomitable. How the hell do you become indomitable?

I swung up and darted to where the dining table used to be, convinced I could get Hellie under control.

At that moment, she and the moth came barreling haphazardly toward me. I stood my ground, took a deep breath, furrowed my brows, and yelled, “Hellie, stop now!”

With that, Hellie used the kitchen counter as a platform, dove at the moth, missed, and banged into the living room’s coffee table. Scuttling to her feet without a break, she ran up the couch, sending it skidding and flipping into a loud crash, missing the moth again.

Clearly, that wasn’t indomitable. Suddenly, amid the racket, I heard banging.

“Billy, are you and… that girl okay in there?” Jammer spoke through the intercom—distress strained her voice.

I activated the intercom with a prompt.

“Yeah, Jammer, we’re filming a story for the #BreakStuffChallenge. Everything’s good.”

I cringed as I spat out the worst but plausibly believable lie I had ever told.

To be honest, I was surprised she wasn’t freaking out about Hellie’s barking too.

Jammer took a few seconds to process my statement, and during that brief silence, the moth landed on the door.

It fluttered rapidly, provoking Hellie to attack.

I instantly recognized the moth’s ploy and, careful not to alarm Jammer, forcibly whispered, “Hellie, don’t.”

My command went unanswered, and Hellie launched into the air.

By a strange bit of coincidence, almost at the exact same time as Hellie’s reaction, Jammer’s uncertain response came across the intercom.

“Umm…#BreakStuffChallenge?”

Boom! The force of Hellie hitting the door blew it off its hinges, and it crashed down on Jammer.

I shrieked, curled my lip, and made an ugly face at the damage. I rushed to the destroyed door, lugging my grimoire, afraid for Jammer.

Once I got to the spot, I had to decide quickly—follow Hellie and the moth or help my friend?

I didn’t want to lose track of them, but I couldn’t leave the door on top of poor Jammer. I slid it off her.

She was out cold but breathing—thankfully alive and hopefully nothing was broken.

Within seconds, the tricky moth floated down the corridor and Hellie followed, hot on its trail. I had to leave Jammer and go after them.

“Dammit.”

Supernatural beings were officially on the loose in the building.

Sprinting down the indoor track that circled the second level was my usual morning exercise, but in that moment, it was a frantic race to stop them before they destroyed the whole building—or, even worse, escaped it.

Right outside the corridor, broken pots, scattered plants, and toppled furniture showed signs of Hellie and the moth’s presence.

Just up ahead in the communal kitchen, I spotted them.

Hellie had hopped on the kitchen island and leapt up and down, trying to catch the moth while obliterating everything underneath her.

Unfortunately for Gene and Myles, they were in the kitchen too. Caught in the mayhem, they pressed their backs against the cabinets and shouted curse words.

“Billy, are you seeing this?” Gene quavered, fright searing across his face.

I hustled to Hellie, then attempted to call forth everything inside me and shouted, “Hellie, get down! Go back to the room!”

What they said next shook me.

With a look of genuine surprise, Gene said, “Billy, who’s Hellie? Who are you talking to?”

“What’s causing that?” choked out Myles.

Their words spurred a detail I’d glossed over: when hellhounds are hunting, only the prey and the users are aware of their presence.

I guess to Gene and Myles, everything on the island countertop looked like it was breaking and scattering by itself.

That explains why Jammer didn’t question the barking.

None of them could hear or see Hellie.

So maybe I’m not entirely sunk yet?

I ran over to my friends and gave them an encouraging shove to run.

“I don’t know what’s happening. Go! Get to your rooms!”

But instead of seeking the safety of their rooms, they took cover a few feet away—Gene behind a column and Myles on the side of a couch.

I looked up at the moth floating among the high ceilings. It seemed more intent on prolonging the chaos than escaping.

I dropped down and placed my grimoire on the ground.

Then, with my now-free hands, I opened the cabinet drawers under the sink and rummaged like hell.

“Where is it? Come on, come on.”

There!