Foxblood: Rise of the Hellion (WattyAward 2012 Finalist)

Part Twenty-Eight

The symbols on the door glowed as if they were on fire. A mass of writhing worm-like creatures coiled together in the centre, linked up, and hardened to form a handle. The handle turned and the door swung open, releasing a blast of hot air.

Instinct told me to flee but my curiosity insisted I stay.

Connor grimaced, with one eye shut and the other waiting for whatever danger was about to come through the opening. "Are you sure this was a good idea?"

"Just another day at the office for me," said Roc. "I've sealed dozens of passages over the centuries. It's a constant battle and getting worse all the time. Soon as you seal one up, another surfaces. Usually they're a bit easier to find than this one. This was a killer."

As they spoke, my opinion of the stampeding animals changed. The sounds, fast approaching, were more those of a pride of hungry lions fighting over their kill. I took a step back, wondering how I could blend into the surroundings.

Roc took one last look at his companions. "Ready gentlemen?"

I glanced around, and as I watched, the assembly of beings began to transform.

In front of the door, the little green man melted into a pool of slime. The goat demon drew himself up to his full height, about a metre taller and a good deal heavier, before bending over, horns at the ready. Mr Foothead—as I'd nicknamed him—shed his clothes, to reveal a body that looked as if it had been moulded from putty. Yellow and orange scaled bodies evolved into giant snakes, and beside me, the boys had already changed into monsters with hair and fangs.

Sebastian's beast flung out its arm. It caught my waist, and I was slammed against the cliff face like a rag doll, so hard that I swore I felt my spine crack. But I forgave him. Despite his primitive state, I knew it was his way of trying to protect me from whatever was coming.

I wondered if I could sneak back to my tree, but when I tried to move my legs, the shooting pains down my back told me my body would need a few minutes to recover.

Over in the opening, heads emerged, gigantic heads followed by gigantic bodies, black as the night and with eyes of fire. Their teeth looked sharp enough to sever a human leg with one bite. Saliva spewed from their mouths, and it splattered the stone next to me, when one of the hounds shook its head.

So that was what a hellhound looked like.

The first two beasts, to squeeze out into the open, slipped on the green slime, extending legs and scrambling to regain their footing. But they couldn't get back up in time, and their followers stumbled on the bodies and lost their balance too.

Using the hound's momentary weakness to their advantage, the demons struck, leaping onto the beasts and getting their attacks in early. It didn't take long before each hound had its own demon assailant.

To my right, the putty man had moulded himself around a hound's head in a suffocating hold, and it was trying in vain to shake itself free as it ran out of breath. The snakes were each coiled around a beast, crushing the life from bellies and snapping necks. In front of me, the bald headed demon's arms had stretched out and lashed at the enemy like bullwhips.

The demons, I'd presumed to be shifters, turned out to be large, skinless cats, with upturned eyes, a mouthful of canines, and claws the size of a vulture's beak. These cats were not going to be chased by any dog. Their small army had rounded on a nearby group of hounds, hissing and spitting aggressively as they closed in for attack.

Roc circled overhead, keeping an eagle eye on the battle below, and whenever it seemed as if one of the hounds was winning its particular battle, he swooped down and pinned it to the ground with his huge talons, until the demon attacker could finish the beast off. Unfortunately, he wasn't always successful, and sadly, demons fell alongside hounds.