6 Under The Final Moon (5 page)

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Soph. It was just a dog.”

“I didn’t jump to any conclusions. Conclusions came snarling and snapping at me in a murderous rage that may or may not have been rabid. With three”—I held up my fingers again—“heads.”

“The whole thing happened pretty fast, love, and I know you were frightened. Are you sure it just didn’t seem like the dog was multi-meloned?”

“I saw what I saw.”

“A three-headed dog,” Vlad confirmed. “You know what that means.”

I narrowed my eyes, daring him to say it. He silently mouthed the word,
Armageddon
.

“Okay, so you’re telling me that a three-headed dog chased you from the dog park, and ChaCha”—Nina pointed to my heroic pooch, who was now sprawled out on the floor, giving her lady bits a good licking—“all four and a half pounds of her, came to your rescue.”

I nodded.

“From a three-headed dog.”

I looked at Will and Vlad for confirmation or support, but got nothing. “I don’t see why this is so hard to believe. I’ve been chased by werewolves, witches—hell, Neens, you’re a vampire.”

“But Campos—or whatever the crap you called him—is a creature in Greek mythology. And he’s the guardian of
Hell
.”

“Maybe the bloke got fired? Doing some work on the side?”

Vlad huffed. “I think we’re all forgetting Occam’s razor here.” He looked at all three of us, then rolled his eyes when no one agreed. “You know, the simplest explanation is generally the right one?”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “So what’s the simplest explanation, Vlad? We’re hanging on the precipice of the end of the world?”

“Of course not. I was just messing with you. It’s obvious you were hallucinating.” He offered me an apologetic frown and patted me gently on my good shoulder. “It was bound to happen. Your grip on reality was tenuous at best.”

I slapped his hand away. “I was not hallucinating! Did I hallucinate this?” I swung so my back—scratched, shredded—was visible. “And this?” I jerked a thumb toward the now bandaged wound on my shoulder. “Clearly a dog bite.”

“A dog,” Vlad stressed.

“It was one dog,” I challenged back. “Three heads.”

Will snapped the emergency kit closed and looked at me. “You doing okay? Want to get a bite or a lager before?”

“Before what?”

“Before we go looking for a three-headed dog.”

I sped into my bedroom, threw on my best pair of mythical-dog-chasing pants, and sucked in a hard breath.

Cerberus was a three-headed dog. The guardian of the gates of Hell. I slunk down on my bed and pressed my eyes shut, trying to call up the scene in my head. I saw his huge paws closing the distance between us. Smelled the salty stench of dog breath as his jaws snapped shut just behind my left ear. I heard the sound of my flesh puncturing as his incisors sunk in, then the overwhelming penny scent of my own blood. But had it just been a dog?

I opened my eyes and blinked at myself in the mirror. What happened to the non-jumping-to-conclusions, cooler, more Zen Sophie Lawson?

It was just a dog
, I told myself.

It was just a dog.

Once I got my breathing under control, I stepped into the living room, where Nina and Will were in the kitchen, Nina rifling through the freezer while Vlad looked on contemptuously between text messages.

“We’re not going to look for the dog,” I said with as much authority as I could muster.

Will blinked at me. “Why’s that, love?”

The bandage over my bite mark itched. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just a regular dog, you know? I could have just—I mean, I’ve had a lot on my mind so maybe I was just . . .”

Nina turned to face me, a kind-of-proud grin splitting across her face. “A kinder, gentler Sophie.”

“I thought she was more kick-assier,” Vlad grumbled.

The doorbell rang and while my hackles went up, a grin split across Will’s face.

“Pizza’s here.”

My head was swimming and I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to straighten up.

“The guardian of the gates of Hell has escaped and you’re ordering pizza?”

Will tipped the pizza guy and immediately helped himself to a slice, gesturing toward the TV. “And watching a game. It’s not Arsenal, but at least it’s football.”

I stared at him, hands on my hips, for a quick beat before I relented and helped myself to a slice.

“And by the way,” he continued, “we’re going after that dog. Got any beer?”

The bite of pizza I had already taken was like wet sand in my mouth. “Will, I told you—maybe I was wrong.”

“You know you’re not. Anyone else I would doubt, but because it’s you . . .”

He let the word trail off and I felt steam rising in my gut. “Because it’s me? Like, because I’m such a klutz? Or because I’m the kind of person that dogs and people want to kill on a regular basis because I’m such a jerk? What is it, Will? Come on. Out with it.”

Will went from leaning toward me to shrinking back. “Is it your time of the month or something, love?”

I slammed my pizza slice back into the box and fumed. “That’s your response? I was almost killed by a three-headed dog today. A three-headed dog that almost ripped the throat out of my little teeny baby and you ask if I’m on my period?”

Will finished his slice and wiped his hands on his jeans. When he was done chewing, he glanced at me with an exasperated expression. “I believe that you were chased by a three-headed dog because you’re the Vessel of Souls and I am your Guardian. Your klutziness and general jerkiness did not factor into my statement. And it’s obvious by your delightful demeanor that your hormones are up to par.” He offered a Styrofoam container to me. “Hot wing?”

I grumbled, but took the container of hot wings.

“So much for going Zen, huh?” Vlad called from his place behind his computer screen.

I flipped Vlad off, pulled two bottles of beer from the kitchen, and flopped down next to Will on the couch. I offered him a bottle. He opened both of ours with his keychain bottle opener and cheers-ed me.

I took a long pull on my beer.

I really wanted to remain calm. I really wanted to be nonchalant and believe that the three-headed dog was a figment of my imagination or that I had mistakenly eaten a handful of hallucinogenic mushrooms.

Two more monster-sized swigs and I was no calmer.

“So?” I said finally.

Will turned and looked at me as if surprised that I was still there. I snatched up the remote and turned off the game.

“Oy!” he cried.

“We need a plan, Will. Do you really think we’re just going to run outside, shake a box of Milk-Bones and hope Cerberus comes running?”

“You didn’t need to turn off the game.”

I pinned him with a glare. “You’re supposed to be my Guardian. So”—I gestured toward him—“guard!”

“I’ve been a great Guardian. You’ve haven’t died yet now, have you?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Even if we can attract Cerberus, what then? He doesn’t talk.”

“We can get the pooch to lead us to someone who does.”

Bat wings jabbed in my stomach and I sucked in a shaky breath. Cornering a mythical dog—even a multi-meloned one, as Will put it—was one thing, but letting that dog lead us to . . .

My father’s image flashed in my mind and my heartbeat sped up. If this dog really was Cerberus, the Hell hound, then that meant—could that mean—? I stepped backward, my whole body breaking into a cold sweat.

Will cocked his head, the gold flecks in his eyes dancing as he studied me. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed heavily. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t—maybe it wasn’t a three-headed dog, you know? It was really fast and I was scared so it could have been—it could have been just me.”

“You’re back to second-guessing yourself now?”

“Well, really, what are the odds?”

A tiny smile played on Will’s lips. “What are the odds, says the woman who holds all the departed souls of the universe?”

“I just—I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Will.”

“Ready for what, love? We don’t have any idea what’s going on yet.”

I looked at Will and he stared back at me. I knew I didn’t have to say a single word for him to know everything I was feeling. Was Cerberus really after me? Had my father really sent him? And if so—why? Why now?

Suddenly, my skin felt too tight. “I just—I don’t know if—”

Will took both my hands in his and led me around the couch, giving me a soft shove down so that I was sitting. My breath was coming quick and tight now, and in one fell swoop he pushed my head between my legs.

“This isn’t really helping,” I said to our filthy carpet.

“Breathe slowly, or deeply or something.”

I sat up and glared at him. “Don’t you have to have paramedic training?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to do about mythical panic attacks.” He paused for a beat before breaking out into an enormous, annoying grin.

“What?”

“Feeling better now, aren’t you?”

I flopped backward on the couch, rubbing little circles at my temples with my index fingers. “Okay, what do we do? How do we go about finding this thing? I don’t think there’s any chance we could just head down to the nearest Kinkos and run off a few lost-dog fliers, huh?”

“‘Have you seen my three-headed dog?’ I suppose it would get people’s attention.”

“People are crazy about their—” I felt my brows furrow. “That’s weird.”

“What’s that, love? Being attacked by a Hell hound on Fulton Avenue?”

“Remember when I told you about the woman that I met? Right before the run-in with poochie?”

Will nodded.

“She said that her dog was playing with a group of other dogs at the park. She kind of just vaguely pointed when I asked which one was hers.”

“And was one of them him?”

“No.” I swung my head and turned to face Will. “That’s the thing. Right before I heard Cerberus behind me, I saw the woman. She was walking up Hayes, leaving the park, but she didn’t have a dog with her. She didn’t have anyone with her.”

“Do you think she was with Cerberus?”

“Maybe she was with him, or maybe she just told him to sic me.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, though. He came out of nowhere. But, anything is possible.”

Will gently touched the gauze that was puckered around the bite mark on my shoulder. “Anything is around here.”

I felt myself draw into Will’s sweet, comforting eyes even as the wound burned underneath his fingertips. “Maybe some meat?” Will blinked.

“Excuse me?”

I pulled away, trying to break the moment. “Maybe we should get some meat. That will help bring out the dog, right?” I crossed into the kitchen and began rifling through the fridge. Behind me, Will raked a hand through his hair, the movement reflected in the stainless steel oven.

“If a Hell hound eats meat. I was thinking more small children.”

In my imagination, our refrigerator is always stocked with healthful snacks like yogurt and fruit, and maybe the occasional lone cupcake or flaky custard tart. In actuality, our fridge is one part science experiment, two parts phlebotomy storage. Tonight there were three Styrofoam take-out containers stacked one on top of the other—though I can’t remember the last time I ate out—a half-can of chocolate frosting, something that was a peach and now might be an avocado, and Nina’s neat stack of blood bags, alphabetized from A to O. There was also a handful of condiments and a box of baking soda that had come with the fridge.

“I’m not sure anything here would attract a dog.”

“You don’t have any steak or anything in the freezer? Some bacon or something?”

“I gave it to ChaCha. Wait!” I snapped. “I’ve got burgers.”

“Great. I’m going to grab my coat and some rope in case we have to wrestle the bugger. You warm up a few of those burgers, really get the meat smell going. Maybe we can hold them out of the car window or something.”

I nodded, impressed. “Look at you with a plan.”

Will closed the front door and I got to work frying up four burger patties, flopping the finished products onto a paper plate. I grabbed half a roll of paper towels and met him in the hallway, where he was coiling a length of rope over one shoulder, Indiana Jones style. His eyebrows dove down when he saw me.

“What do you have?”

“Meat.” I held the plate up closer for him to inspect.

He wrinkled his nose. “Doesn’t smell like meat.”

“It’s vegan.”

“What?”

“They’re veggie burgers. But they look and taste just like real meat.”

“In what dimension?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are we going to do this or not?”

“Come on. One three-headed dog who hopefully has a taste for soy and cardboard, coming up.”

Will and I were silent as he started the car and pulled out into the cool night. I balanced the bait plate on my lap, sitting up straight, my eyes darting toward the dark crevices of every building we passed, straining to see into the hulking shadows cast by parked cars.

“I don’t see him.”

Will turned toward the park and nudged me. “Roll down the window.”

“Oh, right. The dog will be attracted to the smell.”

“I don’t care about the dog. I don’t want that noxious odor seeping into Nigella’s interior.”

Nigella was Will’s beloved car. She was a broken-down Porsche from the seventies that sported a maroon and rust paint job and deep bucket seats lined in the most horrendous Pepto pink and white leather. As far as I was concerned, Nigella had two wheels in the scrap metal pile and the other two on a banana peel, but Will protested, certain he would restore her to her former glory. He hadn’t done so much as put up an air-freshener cone. But, she ran, and wasn’t spray-painted across the hood with graffiti that said
VAMPIRE
, so she was one up on my car.

I picked up one of the glossy veggie patties between my forefinger and thumb and hung it, and my head, out the window.

“Uh, here, doggie. Here, pup.” I whistled. “Here, boy.”

“Throw the burger.”

“What?”

“Crumble it up and throw a bit of the burger. Maybe it’ll lure him out.”

I sighed as Will slowed to a crawl near the corner where Cerberus had started to follow me. “Here, doggie.”

I crumpled up the faux burger and tossed pieces of it toward the sidewalk, the grayish pieces falling with a greasy smack on the concrete.

“This isn’t working, Will. There’s no one out there.”

Will leaned his head out his open window. “Here, pup. Here, dog. I’ve got some delicious, delicious Vessel of Souls just waiting for you to take a bite!”

“Thanks a lot.”

“It’s just a ruse, love. I would never feed you to a three-headed dog, you know that.”

I slunk back into my seat. “We’re going to have to get out of the car. Hey.” I pointed. “Over there. There’s a spot.”

We strolled down to the dog park in silence, me carrying my plate of veggie burgers, Will whistling, rustling bushes as he passed them.

“Which way did the lady with no dog go?” Will asked once we’d crossed into the park.

“I met her here. We were talking right here and the dogs were playing over there. At least, the dog she pointed out as being hers was playing over there.”

“Did you notice anything different about her? Hooves, scales, face on the back of her head?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Do you think I wouldn’t have noticed any of that? She looked normal. Completely normal.”

“Except that she is the owner of a Hell hound.”

“We don’t know that for sure. It’s just a hunch.” I picked up another patty and swung it. “Hell dog! Come on, Hell dog! Uncle Will wants to wrestle with you!” I chucked the thing and heard the sickening slap as it hit the hard-packed dirt. “I don’t even know what we’re doing out here. If the dog comes after us, we’re going to be running away from it.”

“You might be running away.”

“Either way, we won’t be able to follow it anywhere.”

“Maybe it has a collar.”

I shot Will a look.

“It’s worth a shot. He’s got three necks to wear it on.”

We stepped out of the car. I took a huge gulp of the sea-tinged air, loving the way it chilled my lungs the whole way down. If we weren’t on the hunt for some sort of underworld demon, it would qualify as a perfectly pleasant night.

“Let’s try down by the dog park. We can just retrace your steps. Maybe poochie is still around.”

Though the cars shot by with blinding headlights and lights were on at the gas station, stores, and homes lining the park, the park itself rested in a tiny pocket of darkness. The surrounding lights just shadowed the mature trees, making them look ominous and menacing. I tightened my windbreaker and tossed a veggie patty in front of us.

“Here doggy, doggy.”

We waited in silence, me standing there with my plate of burgers, Will with arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

I tossed the last burger. “You think?”

A car horn wailed in the distance, but once it stopped, we both heard it—the shifting sound of feet pushing through the dried leaves on the ground. Will grabbed me by the elbow and we crouched down, hiding behind a thick bush.

I couldn’t see anything immediately, but there was definitely someone—or something—moving through the brush. The footfalls were measured, deliberate.

“That’s not a dog,” I whispered to Will.

He pressed his index finger in front of his lips, then mouthed,
Wait
. I did, while he slowly rose to his full height and crept, silently, away from the bush.

I’ve never been good at doing what I was told or keeping myself out of harm’s way, but this time, I really wish I would have. Will was a half step in front of me when I heard the slice of knife through air. There was a shriek and something heavy bowled into me. I hit the ground in slow motion, hearing the crunch of every bone as my body made contact with the earth. My lungs seemed to constrict and fold in on themselves, and I was desperate for breath, my lips feeling chapped and huge as I sucked frantically, unable to breathe.

My head hit the hard-packed dirt last and stars shot in front of my eyes. Electricity burned through me, and the city sounds were drowned out, replaced by a frenzied buzzing in my ears, a din so sharp it rattled through my teeth.

“Will!” I was finally able to eke out his name, but he didn’t answer me. I clawed at the ground, ignoring the screaming pain in my body, pressing myself to turn, to try my best to crawl toward where Will was.

I saw the man in front of Will. He was dressed all in black, but there was something about his clothes, something that didn’t look right. He didn’t look like an average city thug.

He and Will were equally matched in height and weight, but the man jabbed at Will with a long, slick blade that reflected the pale light of the moon.

Definitely
not an average city thug.

“Will!” My voice had gained strength. The attacker’s attention snapped away from Will and he focused on me as if just realizing I was there. He was wearing a black mask that went down past his nose, his eyes piercing and sharp behind the two narrowed slits in the mask. His lips curled up into a grotesque smile that shot ice water down my spine.

“You.” It was a growl more than a word and suddenly the man was lunging toward me. It all happened in painfully slow motion: his arm reaching out, his fisted hand gathering the fabric at my chest—the way he lifted me as if I didn’t weigh a thing. I blinked and he slammed me up against a tree, the back of my head snapping against the rough bark. Leaves shimmied down all around us as though we were happy picnickers and not strangers in the midst of the fight of our lives.

I kicked out and made contact, my left foot getting him right in the abdomen. It seemed to surprise him for a half second, just long enough for me to reach forward and scratch at the man’s eyes.

I saw Will come up behind him, his arm snaking around the man’s neck. What happened next I will never be able to forget, the blazing, bloody millisecond etched in my brain forever: Will’s grip tightened. The man let me go. I saw his hand go for his jacket. I saw it disappear. I saw it reemerge, saw the paper-thin edge of a dagger as he turned and sliced Will across the gut.

“Will!”

I crumbled to my knees, crawling through the dirt toward him. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew the sticky wetness that was pooling around my fingers was blood—Will’s blood—but I refused to let myself think about it. I vaguely heard the sound of leaves crunching and then the thud of footsteps as the masked man ran away.

“Will! Will!” I said, crawling up next to him.

He looked uncomfortably calm, his complexion waxy. “Sophie,” he whispered.

“I’m here, Will. I’m here.”

“I need you.”

I felt the tears pouring in heavy sheets over my cheeks. “I’m here, Will. I’m here for you.”

He took a long, shuddering breath and a tiny triangle of pink tongue darted out of his mouth. He winced, then stared up at the moon.

“No, Will, no.” I swung my head. “Stay here. You can’t die. You cannot die! I can’t do this alone—I can’t do this without you! You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

My eyes immediately went to where his hands were, pressed against his belly. His fingers were slick with blood, and I felt the bile burn up the back of my throat. “Oh, Will.”

“Cell phone.”

“Yes!” I was digging around for my phone when I heard the sirens. A police car was fronting a fire truck and an ambulance, tearing down the street in our direction. The colored lights flashing on the darkened buildings around us was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I flew to my feet, jumping up and down, flagging them down.

“Hey.”

I went back down to my knees. “Will, they’re on their way. The police, and an ambulance. You’re going to be okay.”

“I know.” He shifted and gave a little cough that exposed his teeth. They were bathed in blood and I looked away, winced. “It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a little stab to take me out.”

I nodded, wanting to laugh, but this was no “little stab.” The cut went from the bottom of Will’s right rib in a perfect slice to his right hip. The blade made a clean cut through his T-shirt, through his skin and layers of flesh. More blood, so dark in the moonlight that it looked black, pulsed from the wound each time Will took a breath—each time his heart pounded.

I blinked back tears as he pressed against his gut, his blood covering his hands and digging into his fingernails. He rasped.

“Will,” I said. “Oh, Will.”

“I need you to take this. Hide it.” Slowly, painfully, he rolled up on one side, exposing a dagger with a weird, rounded blade.

“Is that what—I didn’t see—”

The weapon that I had seen sink into Will had looked like a normal dagger. Straight blade. Plain, utilitarian hilt. Nothing stand-out about it. This knife that Will was trying to press into my hands was elbow-to-wrist in size, with that strange, curved blade.

“Where did this come from? The blade that got you was—”

“I know. I pulled this from his belt before I went down.”

Close up, I could see that there was something etched on the blade, tiny symbols carved in a swirl from tip to hilt. The gold continued to the quillon, which rolled up, their edges seemingly as sharp as the blade. At the base of the hilt was a cross, also done in gold. I stared down at it. Looking down at the knife in my hand the cross was right side up, but if I were to point the blade down, the cross was upside down.

“An upside-down cross,” I whispered, feeling my stomach shift. “Evil. Satan—”

Will wagged his head, a nearly imperceptible move from side to side. His voice was barely a whisper. “Bring it to Alex.”

“Is it yours?”

Will worked hard to focus on me. “Hide it until you can get it to Alex. You have to bring it to him. He’ll know what to do with it.”

I edged the knife away and slid the cold, dirty blade underneath my sweatshirt. I knew that if Will was suggesting I do anything with Alex, then this knife was something big—something huge. On a normal basis, Will and Alex wouldn’t share a bagel, let alone the weapon of a—I felt the sob choking in my throat—possible murderer.

After the paramedics loaded Will into the ambulance—and he gripped my hand, reminding me that I had to go find Alex—I jogged back to my apartment, clutching the dagger in my rolled up sweatshirt. My T-shirt was sweat soaked and my teeth were chattering; by the time I made it home I was certain I smelled like veggie burgers and despair.

Nina sat bolt upright when I walked in. “I take it you found your Hell hound.”

“No.” All I could do was swing my head. My lips felt chapped, my throat bone dry. Nina handed me a glass of water, and I drank gratefully, then pushed my bundled sweatshirt onto the table.

Vlad looked up from his laptop, gesturing toward the sweatshirt with his chin. “What’s that?” His nostril flicked. “And whose blood?”

I looked down at my hands and my breath caught. I hadn’t realized that I was covered in Will’s blood. I started to sob. “It’s Will’s. Oh, God, Nina, someone attacked Will. He was stabbed!” I fell against my best friend and cried until I started to hiccup.

Nina held on to me, awkwardly patting my back and rhythmically murmuring, “There, there.” She let me gather myself together before she dragged me down to a chair and gaped. “What do you mean someone stabbed Will?”

I sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “Someone attacked us while we were out looking for the dog. Will saved me, but the guy, the guy—” A wave of nausea roiled through me. “The guy stabbed him.”

“Is he okay?” She sprang up from her chair. “What are we doing here? We need to go to the hospital.”

I took Nina’s hand. “No, he told me not to. He told me—”

“To bring this to Alex?” I hadn’t noticed that Vlad had deserted his spot at the table and unwrapped the dagger from my sweatshirt. He was holding it just inches from his face, seemingly mesmerized by the thin, sharp blade.

“How did you know that?” I asked.

He turned the dagger over and over in his pale hands, fingering the fine etchings in the handle. “Because it’s the sword of the Grigori.”

Nina and I glanced at each other, blank faced, and then at Vlad.

“Who is the Grigori?”

“Not who,” Vlad said, leaning over his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys. “What.”

He turned the laptop to face us, and Nina and I leaned over, nearly cheek to cheek—mine hot, hers ice cold.

“The Watchers,” I whispered, fascinated. “So they’re not exactly fallen angels.”

“But they are evil,” Vlad said.

“Evil? It says right here they taught their human counterparts how to make metal weapons and cosmetics. The race that created MAC can’t be all bad.” Nina batted her heavily mascarra’d lashes.