The Hellhound

Ch. Twenty-Eight

"While seeking revenge, dig two graves."

- Douglas Horton

                                                                             ***

Theron looked up, the mildly irritated expression on his face almost comical. It might have made Sirius laugh if he wasn't so focused on the idea of tearing the demon's throat out. 

He stared at Sirius for a long, long moment.

Sirius could hear his breath in his ears. He walked forward slowly, savoring as the color drained from Theron's face incrementally with every precise step. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, and he allowed it to grow, clicking his fangs together.

The demon eased back into his chair, eyes riveted on Sirius'. He blinked once, and they flashed to liquid black, obliterating the white and iris.

"I told you," Sirius said softly, sinking his claws into the wood of the desk. They gouged deep scoremarks into the glossy surface as he prowled toward the demon. "I told you. You owe me blood, Theron. For every drop of hers you spilled."

Theron was still watching the claws carving lines in his desk. He sat perfectly still, fear spiraling into the air with every breath he managed. There was only one sweeter scent in all the worlds.

Rick stood silently before the door, sword half-raised. His eyes were narrowed, but he didn't say anything. He simply let Sirius enjoy the moment.

"Say something," Sirius drawled, finally pulling his claws free of the wood.

"It was Hades," Theron immediately said. "It was his idea to slaughter her family. His idea to send you."

"His idea to tear her to pieces?" Sirius offered, the ever-fraying leash on his temper slipping a little more.

Theron simply nodded, his hand drifting off the edge of the desk. The silence was broken by the darkness chittering, begging for the demon's blood. A single strand of it twined up Sirius' arm to nuzzle at his jaw, and Theron went dead white. He swallowed hard, eyes flicking between the Hunter and the Hellhound.

"We can make a deal," he croaked.

Sirius laughed low in the back of his throat. "Ah..." he grinned, throwing a look toward Rick who still appeared on edge. "I think we're a little past that." The darkness hissed. Sirius amended, "We're way past that."

"I was just following—"

"Enough!" Sirius snarled. "Enough. I don't give a damn. It was your scent in that alley, Theron. It was you who set her up. You made her bleed. You made her scream." 

He took in a ragged breath, bloodlust making his mouth taste like copper. His fingers trembled, razor-edged claws making a small clicking sound—aching to gut Theron like a fish. Clenching his teeth, he snarled, "You're the one who chose Bane's crew, out of all the fucking Hellhounds you could have used."

Theron's eyes once again flicked toward Rick. Or the door behind him.

Rick's eyes narrowed. "He's expecting someone. You wanna wind this up?"

"Yeah," Sirius breathed. "Yeah. I'm done. I need this to be done."

"Wait!" Theron hissed as Sirius took another step forward. "Wait."

"Oh, I've done my waiting. So has she."

"She's not here," Theron said, desperation plain in his voice. "She's not up here. You won't find her without me."

Sirius just snorted, and the demon once again looked at Rick and the door he was in front of. A fragile mix of hope and despair gleamed in the demon's eyes.