The Hellhound

Ch. Eighteen

"You're the perfect drug, when it hurts like hell."

- My Darkest Days

                                                                           ***

Sirius knew he hadn't been unconscious for too long. The little sunlight sneaking past the drawn curtains of the window across from him was the thin, clear sunlight only present as the sun peeked over the horizon.

He'd left the Hunters just as the sky was turning grey.

He smiled slightly to himself, the dream still vivid in his mind. He could still taste her. A small peace radiated through him—the kind only she could bring, and he knew it was real. It had all been real.

Everything ached. His tongue was a dry stick in his mouth, the back of his throat a victim of some terrible scorched-earth tactic. His joints felt like rusted hinges, his muscles melted rubber. His eyes felt devoid of any moisture, shrivelled and loose in their sockets as he looked around.

Sirius was almost afraid to look at his wrists. They burned so fiercely he was sure the skin and flesh had been burned away, leaving nothing but scorched, useless bone. 

Still, that particular pain gave him bitter hope. Caleb should be feeling the same thing. It should be dragging him here in an effort of relief.

He was still tied to a chair and, judging by the smoky, sulfur scent in the air, he was bound with silver.

"He should be awake by now. Maybe not totally sober, but enough."

Sirius jumped as Valentia's voice echoed in his ears, and he looked around wildly, but he was alone as far as he could see. 

"You're kidding, right?" a different female voice responded. "He snorted half your stock! Do you even understand what I put in that?"

He realized he was hearing them through the door.

"To be fair, Mon, I didn't have very much in stock." Valentia sighed. "And you don't exactly know him like I do."

"I know he's screwing the Hunter bitch that killed my brother," Mon snarled, and Sirius' heart sank into his stomach.

"Was screwing," Valentia retorted. "She's in Hell, remember?"

"Not even half of what she deserves. Hunters," Mon sneered the word. "Always so self-righteous. Do you know what she did to Frank?"

Valentia just sighed again.

"She gutted him, Val!" Mon nearly shrieked. "Gutted him like a fish, then laughed like a fucking maniac when I finally caught up to her. Said he deserved what he got even when I made her choke on her own blood." There was a small silence. "Maybe I should return the favor. Besides, I still owe him for the other night. He ruined my favorite dress."

"Won't work," Valentia said off-handedly. "Gut him if you want. It won't kill him."

"It will if you give me that." 

Sirius closed his aching eyes, sending out thoughts desperately, hoping Sekhmet—hell, even hoping Persephone—was listening. 

"No," Valentia snapped harshly. "They want him alive."

Well that didn't sound like a particularly good thing. 

There was a sullen silence, then Mon asked, "How alive do they need him?"

His day was going to go from bad to worse—he could feel it.

"Ugh, fine. Just... don't do anything that will leave a permanent mark. You can have one hour with him. We'll need to leave enough time to let him heal up. They'll be here by noon."