The Hellhound

Ch. Thirteen

"It's bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet."

-Hozier

                                                                             ***

Sirius stalked past the vehicles, past the crooked, collapsing picket fence and out onto the heat-cracked blacktop. The light from a half moon beat down on everything, casting the world in weird silvers and deep blues. He wanted to shift. To stretch out and run, leaving this place far behind.

He missed his other shape. Missed the thick fur and sensitive whiskers. He even kind of missed his tail and the extra balance it provided. Mostly he missed running, and how quickly four legs could carry him.

Not quickly enough, he thought bitterly. Not when it truly mattered.

But he was afraid to attempt a shift. He was afraid that the darkness wouldn't let him go, and instead, would tear him apart and leave him that way, rather than putting him back together like it always had. 

Like he always thought it would.

Besides, he wouldn't be able to carry the blood that way. Not without accidentally puncturing one or both of the bags with his teeth. 

So, he settled for a long stride as he walked, heading back toward Vegas and its demons. The spell-bindings around his wrists tingled as he continued to move farther from the house. He ignored them, and they began to burn.

He shook his head and started to jog, then sprint down the road until it felt like melted iron had been poured over his wrists. Gasping, he finally stopped and looked down at his hands to find that the markings around his wrists were glowing an unhappy shade of red. 

With a shake of his head, he looked out to the desert, searching the rocks and sharp plants for the darkest shadow he could find. Eventually he settled on one created by a small jumble of ragged boulders, walking off the road to kneel down by the pool of black.

He took several deep breaths, making sure he was under control, then nearly laughed at himself. He'd been outside everyone's control but hers for at least half a year. 

At the very least, he could settle on the idea that he didn't think he'd have one of those miserable attacks while he did this. He'd take that gamble for a little information. Darkness was everywhere, and so it knew just about everything. Maybe if he was lucky it might give him a couple answers.

Moving slowly, he set the blood on the ground a little behind him, nestled in soft, dry dirt. Then, he placed his hands in the middle of the shadow, vision fading a little as he allowed the darkness to lick at his skin, wrapping around his fingers.

These were the first strands of darkness he'd seen since it had attacked him and been chased away. Even now, he still had no clue what had made it flee like it had. All he remembered was the darkness nearly killing him, seeing Galloway and then a blast of golden light.

Part of him wondered why it hadn't come back immediately, hissing and whispering those awful, mind-wrecking things to him. The other part didn't give a damn and was just relieved that they had left him alone with his own mind-wrecking thoughts. 

He closed his eyes halfway, listening, carefully guarding the edges of his mind.

This time, the darkness sounded sad, its voice soft and nearly feminine.

Oh Sirius, it sighed, you keep tying yourself to these humans and all it does is hurt you.

"Galloway's not human," he argued, his own voice nothing more than a murmur snatched away by the wind. Then he frowned. "What do you mean humans?"