Hellhound (29 page)

“Thank you.”

I shuffled out of the room after Serph with one last
lingering glance at my former lover. Carter remained in the open doorway. Two
sub sentries stood on either side of him.

The doors closed behind us once we stepped into the
throne room. Everyone quickly assembled, including Claudius and Danther.

I pushed back threatening tears. “Demetrius did not
commit the crime. He found the bodies, one already dead, the other painfully
close.”

They muttered, their voices rising as some complained,
others questioned, some argued.

With a deep breath, I pulled up the memory on the
foggy screen that I used after memory retrievals on criminals to show their
guilt.

The Council stood in front of me because my screen
wasn’t a big screen. Ironically, I stood in the same spot where Demetrius stood
when he hovered over the bodies.

The Council saw the mirror image, but they saw it
clearly. I played it slowly, eradicating any room for doubt. From my interview,
the Council already knew that Demetrius was with me until the moment I left my
apartment that morning, so that’s where I started. I was already dressed and
walking out of the room.

When we came to the point where he entered the throne room
and looked around, I averted my eyes to the corner, not wanting to see my
father’s murdered corpse again. I noticed something that hadn’t caught my eye
in the previous haste to get through the recollection. Even though it was in
his peripheral vision, Demetrius hadn’t noticed it or remembered it. It was a
small amount of diminutive smoke that wafted out of the room by way of the
ventilation ducts.

I scanned over the observing and horrified eyes of the
Council to check out the actual grate in the ceiling to the right. Someone else
was in here. Only trackers turned into smoke, only they could flee through the
ventilation system. Ashton immediately came to mind, and he was conveniently
nowhere to be found. 

That feeling of being drowned in rage fell over me as
I struggled to remain still until the reel of memories ended abruptly in my
apartment when I tried to get Demetrius to confide in me. I stopped at the
point when I drew my hand behind my back to clutch the crescent.

I inhaled the foggy screen. I quivered, anxious to
return to the room with my former lover.

Serph looked around and at Claudius. “What shall we
do?”

Every Elder simultaneously offered their opinion. For
the most part, they were inclined to revive the tracker and clear his name.

“Then who killed my boy?” Claudius’s voice boomed over
the rest.

I went to my mother and held her hand. Her eyes were
wide and glistened with tears.

“I intend to find out,” I barked at no one in
particular. My tone was edgy because of the rage, and not necessarily aimed at
the Council. They did what they believed was right, as had I. Too bad we were
all so wrong.

“But Lydia saw him stab my boy.”

“Maybe some twisted fantasy filtered through the cerebral
chamber. Or, whoever killed them drugged her and made her think it was the Demetrius,”
I suggested. “The muses are broken. There’s more to this. It’s not black and
white like we thought.”

“The cerebral chamber has had problems since the
murders,” Balai interjected. That was true.

“We’ll bring Lydia in for questioning,” Claudius said
calmly. He walked to me, placed a broad hand on my shoulder, and said, “Clearly
we were all fooled, Selene. And now your loss has doubled.”

That was as close to an apology as I would ever get
from him.

I nodded. “Are you in agreement that Demetrius was not
the killer?”

The Council agreed unanimously.

“Will you clear his name to the clan? Readmit him into
the clan?”

“Of course,” Claudius said in an appropriately grave
tone, waving over Danther to help in the synaptic transmission.

“And we’ll call down the doctors to help him ease
through the coma,” Serph added, signaling for his minion to get upstairs and
bring back medical aides.

There was a slim hope yet of recovering Demetrius. The
Council went on talking and debating over what happened, the speculation, and
new leads. At least they had a suspect before. Now they were back at square
one.

Without hesitation, I rushed out of the throne room. The
doors opened for me by way of the sub sentries. I stopped in the small room at
the end of the corridor. Carter waited obediently, not even allowing the
doctors to enter before I arrived. What a good man.

“It’s all right now. Thanks, Carter.”

He nodded and slipped out of the way.

I wasn’t a nail biter, or a crier, but I wanted to do
both while the doctors worked on Demetrius. Our doctors weren’t like humans.
Sure, they were rare among the rest of the species, specialized, and highly
intelligent, but their practice wasn’t meant for mortals. They could see
through things, notably our bodies, but they couldn’t see through humans or
regular creatures.

Our doctors were descendants of Apollo, who was known
for his healing abilities. They could peer into the body and see on a molecular
level. One minute in the room with my former lover, and they knew whether he
could be revived or not.

They turned to me with solemn looks. Any miniscule
drop of hope vanquished.

“I’m sorry, Selene. He’s suffered extensive brain
damage. We can keep him on ventilators, but there’s nothing else that can be
done. Once brain cells are killed, they do not regenerate, even for our kind.”

I swallowed. I felt like someone had beaten me
senseless with a bag of bricks. I was hot and sweaty, my chest ached with
heartrending burden, and my throat was raw, sore from holding back sobs. My
eyes stung like something fierce. This was a feeling of helplessness,
uncontrollable loss, and that was an unknown feeling to me. I fared better with
rage.

“Are you certain?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I trembled. The quake expanded from the pit of my
being and radiated outward, shaking the room.

“Let’s get him up to my apartment.”

They didn’t ask questions. They called down sentries
to meet us at the elevator to transport the body, ventilators and all, to my
apartment many levels above. With quivering hands, I walked everyone out. I
needed time alone. When I looked up, I met Angel’s eyes. They were perplexed at
the situation, but consoled my pain.

“Could you stand guard at my door for a little while?”
I asked in a mere hush.

“Yeah,” he muttered, obviously contrite. “I have to
speak with you about the shifter who attacked.”

“Okay. Just later, okay?” I looked down as I closed
the door.

“Sure thing, Selene.”

As I locked my front door and returned to the bedroom,
I paused and closed my eyes as the synaptic transmission came through.

Claudius spoke, “A terrible, tragic mistake has
occurred. The renounced tracker charged with murdering Elder Augustus and
Nathanial was not at fault. We continue to search for the killer, and anyone
who has something to say is encouraged to step forward. The renounced one,
Demetrius the tracker, is readmitted into the clan. Unfortunately, he’s now in
a coma and nothing can be done to save his life. His name is cleared, and he
will die with respect and as a proud member of our clan.”

My breath hitched when the transmission ended. I opened
my eyes and went to my bed, closing the door behind me. I touched Demetrius’s
cheek. He was so cold. His body viciously fought death, but closed down,
chilled to keep his essence alive.

I placed my hand on his chest where his heart vaguely
beat. For a fleeting moment, I considered taking the rest of his memories and
his essence so that he could live on through me. But, I would lose myself in
his thoughts, living in them every day in order to be closer to him. I would
die of heartbreak, because I now knew why mortals gave this feeling the term.
It felt like my heart was actually broken, shattered into a dozen, icy pieces.

I leaned over and kissed Demetrius on the cheek and whispered
in his ear, “I’m so sorry, Demetrius. I should’ve saved you. I’m so sorry,
lover.” My voice cracked.

I backed into the door and slumped down to the carpet.
I pulled my knees to my chest as warm tears stained my face. My chest hurt. A
raw ache clawed up to my throat, and my head pounded. My body trembled, and my
chest heaved in sporadic patterns.

What had I done? I killed him, my lover. He never
lived to hear his name be redeemed among his people, his family, even from me.
I called him a liar. I despised his kiss the last time his lips touched mine. I
told him that I hated him for what he did.

I wiped away the tears and stood, determined to fight
through this and face my emotional punishment, but the “what-if” scenarios
raced through my thoughts. What if I’d listened to him from the beginning? What
if I’d never left him that day and he had an alibi? What if I had listened to
him after he fled and tried to find the real killer to clear his name? What if?
What if!

I screamed in my mind, where my voice raided my brain
and rocked my skull. I wanted so badly to cry out loud and shatter this entire domicile.
I could do it, too, but I held in even the tiniest whimper, imprisoning my
voice in my throat where it festered and aged into something sordid.

I stared at him, lying immovable and still on my bed.
He would never walk again, open his eyes, or live. He would never kiss me
again, would never hear my apologies, would never hear me beg for forgiveness
for this act of betrayal on my part. We would never make love. He would never
call me his love.

Fine. Things were done, and nothing could change time.
I cursed myself for not owning the gifts of Cronos. Perhaps I could find someone
who did, but that was near impossible. No one in their right mind would voice
being in ownership of such elusive and potent powers. Besides, why would they
help me? No reason to fill my little dying world with false hopes.

I hoped that Demetrius could be saved when he
suggested that a crude fantasy filtered through the cerebral chamber. That tiny
spec of light shattered my soul worse than ever. This rare hope would crush me
again.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face, looked up
only to see dreary black eyes and a visible birthmark. After drying my face, I
commanded myself to leave my solitude and venture into the clan to face
reality. But, as soon as I exited the bathroom, I made a sharp turn and headed
into the bedroom.

Slamming the door behind me, I flopped onto the bed
face down next to Demetrius and sandwiched my head between two pillows. The bed
only reminded me of him. This was the last place we were happily together.

I wept and wept, wetting the pillowcase, and drowned
myself in sorrow. My tears were thick and black, and they stained the cotton
fabric.

I flipped over, wrapped my arm carefully around
Demetrius and lost myself in tears. I could’ve cried all night and all day, and
into eternity until I died of a broken and miserable heart, but that wouldn’t
happen to me because life was too cruel.

No one could leave me alone. A knock at the front door
pulled me up. I didn’t plan on answering at first, but the unsolicited visitor
kept knocking, and knocked harder each time. I wiped my face again. Without
bothering to look at what type of mess I’d become in the mirror on the foyer
wall, I just opened the front door.

Danther was taken aback at first to see me. He
proceeded wisely by pretending that he didn’t notice anything substantially
wrong with my haggard look. Angel stood a foot away, watching the minion.

“Claudius summons you.”

I immediately slammed the door in his face. The
audacity! I thought about telling Danther where the Council could go, but that
would only push me into hot water. I could see myself surrendering to the
heated obsession of anger and vengeance, trying to obliterate everyone whom I
blamed, and in the process, destroying myself. Maybe that wasn’t a half bad
idea, come to think of it. I wouldn’t mind dying right about now, and I deserved
a painful death.

I lethargically made another trek to the bedroom,
kissed Demetrius on the forehead, and left my apartment. Danther was gone, but
Angel stood by like an obedient, if not deadly, beast.

“How you doing, Selene?” he asked with the utmost
concern.

I shrugged. “What were you going to tell me about the
rogue shifter?” We spoke in hushed tones.

“I sniffed around the area. I recognized the scent,
can’t place my finger on it, but it’s not a shifter from our clan.”

“Then why do you recognize it?”

“I don’t know. I’m familiar with the scent of every
member of this clan, so I know he lives here, but he’s not a shifter.”

“He has to be. He was a cougar when he attacked us.”

Angel looked perplexed. “Unless there’s a member here
who hasn’t been ousted as being a shifter.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense. The Council and the
clan know of our abilities from birth by looking at our parents. I wonder if
there was an illicit conception.”