Chapter 25: Geeking Out

Like I’d told Hellie before, I knew where he lived.

It was about a forty-minute walk from the woodlands into the countryside.

Hellie, still in her hellhound form, kept pace alongside me, shockingly calm and focused.

She was in protective mode, her eyes tracking every little shift.

I used Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users to educate myself.

Lugging it while angling my phone’s light across its pages proved trickier than walking and reading.

Even so, learning on the fly came naturally.

Luckily, my little dirt nap had restored my magic.

We needed it—and more spells—for the hunt.

Fortunately for Hellie, breaking the influence of the rune magic had allowed her to heal.

I still hurt.

The aspirin and water I had in my backpack wouldn’t cut it.

That left magic.

An easy healing spell converted my water into an elixir.

Unsure of its effect, I only took a few sips.

It took the edge off, but I had to conserve it.

With my extremely raw talent, I attempted only two of the many protective spells.

I started with a rudimentary buffering shield that reduced the impact of physical and magical attacks.

I loved buffs. They were stackable and acted like bulletproof armor for the entire body.

Strategically, I paired it with a palm shield that radiated from my hands—simple to conjure yet strong against magical energy attacks.

It had a nasty quirk, though. Its defensive strength depended on willpower.

For my sake, I hoped my stubbornness amounted to a strong will.

Truthfully, everything came down to Hellie.

The hunt wouldn’t end without her.

I revisited the hellhound chapter, skimming for anything useful to exploit.

She had too many subset abilities.

To take them all in, I’d need a few days and several pots of coffee.

So I naturally gravitated to attributes she could share with me.

Although the book affirmed our mental connection and shared feelings, I didn’t need it to do so. By this point, that was a given.

Earlier, I’d dismissed a vision as imaginary. But the book made it clear I was wrong—I had seen with Hellie’s eyes. It had happened. Our growing bond unlocked it.

The more we attuned, the more we unlocked.

In her beast-dog form, she could phase through any material, literally become a ghost, and through touch, change me as well.

But one shared ability proved useful now. If I carried a tuft of Hellie’s hair, I’d gain her hunter’s invisibility too.

I didn’t hesitate to get what I needed.

I looked down at the silky black hair in my hand, then tucked it into my pants pocket.

It wasn’t offensive or defensive, but it guaranteed that no one—other than Tiny Jem—would see or hear me coming.

That was reassuring, given how heavily his house was fortified with cameras.

I stood on a nearby hill submerged in shadow, watching Tiny Jem through the glass walls of his home.

He had two guests.

The lights were out, but the room’s fireplace was burning. It cast just enough light on the trio to reveal their loose, flowing bathrobes gaping wide as they danced. The constant barrage of their flashing skin made my face scrunch up more than once.

From what little I could tell, their euphoric, celebratory state was fueled by drugs and alcohol being passed around.

It seemed to me as if the bastards were celebrating my death.

He was just that arrogant, too—not even bothering to verify if Hellie and I were dead.

My thoughts shifted to my pet. I’d been waiting patiently for the big sign to strike.

Tiny Jem’s big mouth gave away his penchant for using rune magic. So I had Hellie scout for any surrounding his property.

Through our connection, I knew she had already found and destabilized his protection runes.

Now all she had to do was take out the house’s power grid and backup generators.

She was close.

I rolled on my black gloves, put on my black mesh face mask, and pulled up my hoodie.

Not that I had any reason to doubt Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users.

I came here to murder the guy.

I had no intention of leaving behind a shred of evidence.

F’ yeah. Now I’m in full-on stealth mode.

After a loud hum and snap, the power shut off.

I wanted the bastard to be in darkness, the way he’d left Hellie and me, but his fireplace and the moon granted him plenty of visibility.

Tiny Jem dashed up immediately and stumbled out of the great room, leaving his guests. I tracked him as he slowly bumbled down the hall, clearly plastered.

After steadying himself against the wall several times, he entered the corridor to the basement. My best guess was that he was heading to the fuse box.

I was hoping that would be his first instinct.

Great.

I needed him away from his thruppling. His playmates might’ve been scum—probably his worshipers—but I had no way to know.

I needed them out of the equation.

When I woke up this morning, I never thought I’d choose murder. But here I am. Even if they’re Team Gluttony, I can’t kill those dopes just for having poor taste.

I slipped out of the shadows and walked to the house.

Okay, Hellie. Put Tiny Jem’s guests to sleep.

As I moved down the hill, I saw Hellie slinking around to the great room window.

I was too far away to see her actions, so I slipped into her vision.

Immediately, dread overwhelmed my senses.

Hellie’s glowing eyes and hulking body reflected on the glass wall almost as if she were staring at me.

She had Tiny Jem’s guests locked into her burning white stare.

They were unable to speak or move.

My perception flickered.

Hellie’s reflected eyes.

Their fright-filled faces.

My face stiffened.

I tore myself out of her vision.

Panic lingered and unnerved me.

That brief empathy made me glad I was not on the receiving end of Hellie’s handiwork.

Within seconds, they had collapsed into sleep. But from the expressions on their faces, it looked as if they’d died of fear.

Once I reached Hellie’s side, I felt an impulse.

Hand. Fur.

I placed my hand on her ribcage.

That was how she communicated with me, through impulses and instincts that I translated into words.

Then an instinct—

Walk.

The problem was the glass wall right in front of us. But I succumbed to my feelings, threw out logic, and we stepped into—correction, through the glass.

Although my mind reeled, walking through the glass felt no different from walking through an open door.

We stood in Tiny Jem’s great room.

You’d think the incarnation of Gluttony would be living in filth or, at the very least, a junky hoarder lifestyle. But no, it was quite the opposite.

The floor space was modern, amazingly immaculate, and very effing impressive.

I had been here maybe once or twice, and it was always “Don’t touch anything.”

Mounted above the fireplace was a replica of the Boomstick. Above the shotgun hung a radiant holy sword, a legendary broadsword, and a Japanese katana—each a custom-made fan-favorite weapon from classic fantasy movies.

Along a poster-infused interior wall behind a white leather sectional couch stood rows of glass cases housing life-sized mannequins of pop culture icons dressed in actual production costumes.

I was fanboying just looking at the new additions. And that wasn’t even the best of Tiny Jem’s stuff.

All the cool, top-dollar collectibles were in the basement.

It was a damn museum down there.

I was lost in thought—geeking out—but I had to snap out of it.

I was there to kill Tiny Jem, not swoon over his collection.

Pushing the collectibles out of my mind, I spotted a glass coffee table littered with a wild assortment of liquor—some spilled—loose plastic pill packets, and a color-coded platter of other drugs.

Damn! What a payload! They’re all wasted out of their minds.

Hellie moved past the table and stopped.

She leaned over the unconscious, half-clothed people and sniffed.

What is she doing?

Curious and a bit worried, I chose to look through her eyes again.

This time, I instantly felt dizzy, a bitter taste coating my mouth. The depth perception, the mismatched colors, and the spatial distortion were alien.

But I centered myself and watched.

She was looking through the floor. A transparent radius surrounded the pair. It appeared as if their bodies were hovering in the air over a room on the lower level.

Feeling a wave of wooziness, I blinked and returned to my own sight.

“Shit! The f#@king power is out at the grid,” Tiny Jem cried, followed by a door slamming.

As soon as Hellie heard, she set her giant paw on the bodies and gently pressed down, phasing them through the floor and guaranteeing their safety.

I sent her a mental command to get behind the couch and blend into the shadows.

I sat on the sofa, spreading my arms across its back, and crossed my right foot over my left knee, projecting confidence even though I had no effing clue what I was doing.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“I’m coming, my piggies. Piggies?”

I could tell from his voice that he was close.

When he finally stumbled blindly into the room, the effect of his partying was on full display. He waved a bottle of champagne around before chugging it.

Then he stopped in front of the fireplace.

Woozy, he balanced his hand on the glass enclosure and peered into the fireplace—still unaware of me.

“Let’s finish partying. I’ll deal with that shit in the morning.”

“You won’t be here in the morning, Tiny Jem.”

“Da fuk.”

Tiny Jem dropped the champagne bottle and spun around. Unfortunately for me, his robe flew open when he turned to face me, showing me more than I had ever wanted to see of him.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

I reached into my hoodie’s pouch and pulled out a handful of rocks.

“You didn’t do a good job hiding your protection runes.”

I dropped the rocks.

“There is no way you found those or escaped on your own! That was weeks’ worth of crafting. Which one helped you? Envy? Lust?”

“Would you mind closing your robe?”

“Yeah, I mind. This is my home.”

Ugh. I tried.

I chose to capitalize on his suspicions and lied to get information. “The Eye. They handed me the keys to your kingdom and said, ‘Finish him.’”

Tiny Jem’s body wobbled as he touched his head.

I could tell he was trying to sober up. Suddenly his voice unfurled into an exhausted, icky tone, and grey smoke rolled over his body.

“I knew it was Envy. That jealous bitch! She always works against us! I told Pride to feed her to you first, but he didn’t listen. None of them listen.”

As his anger grew more intense, the shade of red in his eyes burned brighter.

“Who are the others? Are they students like you?”

“I gave you a shot at knowledge. That opportunity has closed.”

“No worries. I found you, so I’ll find them. I just like spoilers.”

“You and your bitch dog will die this time!”

“Oh, I see what you did there. That’s not a spoiler. It’s misinformation.”

Hellie’s growl rumbled behind me. I didn’t even need to look to know that her eyes were glowing in the darkness.

Hellie stepped over the couch and, with her left paw, smashed Tiny Jem’s coffee table of chemical delights.

From the massive noise that followed, her tail must have crashed into the display cases behind her.

Tiny Jem’s persona pushed forward, forcibly overtaking the conversation.

“No! My shit! Get that devil dog off my white leather couch. Do you know what movie it’s from?”

I knew, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of gloating.

Instead, from my comfy position, I sent my girl to get fed.

“Hellie, eat that piece of garbage.”

At my command, she attacked, lunging at Tiny Jem.

Right then, I heard two sounds in succession:

A deafening shotgun blast blared, followed by an orange flash that filled the house.

Then a yelp—almost a death cry—from Hellie.

Her body flew past me, clashing violently into the glass wall.

The impact rocked me.

My eyes shot wide.

With Hellie out of my line of sight, I saw Tiny Jem holding the Boomstick.

He’d infused it with his powers—and shot my hellhound.

He was now aiming directly at me.

As he pulled the trigger, Tiny Jem shouted, “Get some!”

Dammit. Why did I think this would be simple?