Thatâs what you never got. He made me. I owe him my life no matter what.â
Thereâs no point in arguing with thugs, especially happily brainless ones. I hit Wilson in the throat, the soft spot that makes a crunching sound if you do it right. He fell over, and I wriggled out from under him.
Gary still battered Leoâs blood line, and it finally gave. Leo waited, watching Garyâs Scythe as he advanced.
âNice work,â Gary said, swiping at his nose. âIâm still going to cut your balls off with this.â
Seeing Leo pinned down and his useless father just standing there, I shifted without thinking about it. It hurt like hell, all my broken bones rearranging themselves into their four-Âlegged configuration, Garyâs cut making me favor my front right leg, but that didnât matter.
Leo poured out more blood, mumbling with his eyes closed, and red smoke started to rise as the stuff bubbled. Gary choked, his eyes watering, but he still came.
Until I hit him and wrapped my jaws around his throat.
Hellspawn blood tastes like sewage, and it burned, so bad that I almost let go. But I didnât. I wrestled Gary to the ground and bit down hard, feeling flesh and tendon and windpipe break under my teeth.
I may see in black and white, but my brain is almost sharper when Iâm a hound. All that human fear and worry and indecision washes away, and I know exactly what I have to do. I whipped Gary back and forth, breaking his neck and choking off his scream.
Leo kept mumbling, and I could feel whatever he was conjuring with the blood creeping all over my skin. He opened his eyes at last, and I realized that some of Garyâs blood had spattered across his face, fine black droplets like rain on his pale skin.
Before he could move, though, something hit me in the side, a small impact that quickly turned into wretched, burning pain. I went off my feet, and Leoâs father pumped another spray of bullets into me for good measure.
He picked up Garyâs Scythe and wiped it on the sleeve of his suit. Leo started to say something, but his father said a single word, something that landed on my senses like a hammer blow, and Leo went flying into the hood of his car, smashing it to shit.
I guessed Leoâs plan wasnât as brilliant as heâd thought.
Leoâs father and his men got back into their cars and drove away, leaving me in a pool of my own blood, surrounded by deadhead parts and bleeding hounds and the reaper Iâd just betrayed.
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CHAPTER 9
B ullets donât slow Hellspawn down. If youâre thinking about warding off a hellhound with some silver-Âtipped hollow points or a spray of buckshot dipped in holy water, kiss your gun hand good-Âbye now. All bullets do is piss us off. There are metals that can poison a hound, but usually only smart warlocks have weapons that pack the punch.
I was thanking everything I could think of that Leoâs father wasnât one of those.
The bullets worked their way out of my side after a few minutes, sticky with my blood. I concentrated on breathing until they were all out, and then got myself up and padded over to Leo. I didnât really want him to see me fuzzy this early in our relationship, but shifting back would have knocked me out, and one of us needed to be conscious.
I nudged Leo with my nose until he muttered and started, coming awake with a groan. âFuck me,â he said.
I let out a whine to tell him he needed to get up and get moving. Gary wasnât stirring, but I had no way of telling if he was down for good. Between Leoâs conjure and my mad-Âdog attack, weâd at least managed to dent him. Maybe later, if I survived, Iâd celebrate.
Leo looked at me, eyes narrowing. âAva?â
I bumped his hand again. Leo passed it hesitantly across my head, ruffling the hair. âChrist, that is freaky,â he said. âYouâre a dog but youâve still got your
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