The Hellhound

Ch. Fifteen

"It's been a long time since the beat of my heart was a friend. Well it's been a long time since I felt I was breathing again."

-Roo Panes

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"I'm not dead!"

Rick jerked away from him like he'd been burned. His steel-grey eyes sparked with fury and a hint of gold, and another unnaturally hot wind blasted between them, which made Sirius think he'd touched a nerve.

"I'm not some flesh-eating freak like you," he snarled vehemently, and Sirius just raised an eyebrow. 

He didn't eat people, he just killed them. Though, he didn't think the Hunter would appreciate the difference.

Rick continued, "It's not like I'm some kind of fucking ghoul or zombie or what-the-fuck-ever. I'm still alive."

Sirius snorted at that but held his hands up in surrender.

The Hunter brought his hand up to his heart, fingers tugging at the edge of the tear in his shirt Sirius had created when he stabbed him. "Did you know that wouldn't kill me?"

Sirius struggled mightily against the urge to feign ignorance. Instead, he held his hand out, gesturing at Rick's left. After a moment of tense hesitation, he finally held his arm out.

Moving slowly, so that the Hunter didn't get jumpy, he grabbed the back of his hand, holding him still and flipped the sleeve of his shirt up again, revealing the brand once more.

"I haven't seen one of these in a very long time," he murmured, eyes tracing over the sun and lioness design that had been burned into Rick's skin. Then his gaze flicked up. "How long?"

Rick pulled away, tugging his sleeve back down as he looked over his shoulder toward the room Alex and Caleb where currently asleep in.

"It happened nine years ago." He spoke softly, once again looking over his shoulder. "They don't know. Alex doesn't know."

And he thought he was a secretive bastard. He really had nothing on these Hunters. Hopefully Rick's secret wouldn't get anyone killed this time. Unlike Caleb's.

He repressed a growl, jerking his mind away from that train of thought and focusing back on the madness in front of him. 

Rick was still touching the stab wound, though not with wonder or fear. More like... aggravation. "They can't know," he said.

"What? That you don't have a fucking heart?" Sirius let out a sigh and leaned back over the bannister, wishing he had another cigarette. "Yeah, I don't suppose that's something you'd want them to know."

"How... did you know?" Rick asked cautiously, eyebrows pulled together.

"I didn't at first," he admitted, giving the Hunter a sidelong glance. "Just picked up the clues. Hell, I should have known as soon as I saw the colors of your Soul."

Rick just gaped at him, then dug through his pockets with trembling, jerky movements, pulling out the pack of cigarettes once again. He tried to light one, but his fingers were shaking too hard and he couldn't catch the lighter.

With a sigh, Sirius reached over, taking both the cigarette and the lighter. He lit it, smoke filling his mouth before he handed the cigarette to Rick, who didn't hesitate, taking it from him and inhaling deeply.

"Colors of my soul?" Rick finally repeated when he seemed to have calmed down a little.

It was the most shaken he'd ever seen this particular Hunter. He gestured toward the pack of cigarettes resting on the bannister. Rick nodded and Sirius took one.