The Hellhound

Ch. Ten

"I know of no way of judging the future but by the past."

- Patrick Henry

                                                                          ***

Sirius sat up, staring at the Hunter. The skin around Rick's eyes and mouth was tight and bloodless, looking a whole lot less than pleased. 

Then Sirius laid back down. "No."

The shock in Rick's voice was almost priceless. "What?"

Listless, Sirius answered, "You don't mean it. You won't go against Caleb, and we both know that. Besides, hunting demons isn't something to dick around with."

"I know that," Rick hissed. "This isn't exactly my first rodeo here." He stood up and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He gulped it down, then slammed the glass against the table. "The hell, Fido? I thought she was important to you."

"She is," Sirius said, his voice a low warning growl. "Which means I'm going to do what I can by the book, and everything else with the utmost care. I'm not screwing this up again."

"Again?" Rick asked, his sudden curiosity searing into Sirius' skin. Then he barked out a laugh. "Oh, you mean the fact that she's in Hell at all."

The growl went from a warning to a threat, and Rick narrowed his eyes. His hand going to the small of his back, he said, "It's not my fault you fucked up and lost your girl, Fido. I'm just here offering some assistance."

Sirius' jaw tightened, and he looked away from the Hunter, trying to get his raging temper under control. Keeping his words short and clipped, he said, "I didn't lose her. They took her."

"Whatever," Rick snapped. "I don't even care."

"Then why are you asking?" Sirius snapped back.

Rick pursed his lips, and Sirius sat up again a little gingerly. Blood had spotted through the bandaging right in the middle of his chest. The Hunter finally said, "Because it's my damn job to keep those fucking gates shut, that's why."

Sirius snorted. "You Hunters," he scoffed. "Think you carry the whole goddamn world, don't you?" Then he sighed. "This is different."

"How?" Rick demanded. "Because it's demons? Because the whole fucking world is at stake? Hate to break it to you, Fido, but been there, done that already."

"I sincerely doubt that," Sirius said, without giving it much thought. "You've never seen something as bad as this could get, and I know that because it's never been that bad."

"Who said it—" Rick cut himself off sharply. He went to the door and threw it open. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything."

With that, he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him, making Sirius flinch as the percussion thudded into his ears. He sat there, listening to the Hunter slam his way down the stairs, swearing under his breath. He heard the metallic flick of a lighter, and seconds later the acrid scent of cigarette smoke hit him.

He sighed, wishing with everything in him that Rick really would go behind Caleb's back, but he knew that would never happen. He'd seen too many like Rick, and knew they tended to die young, brave and loyal.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes then got off the bed, making his way carefully to the bathroom. Leaning heavily against the sink, he started to unwind what seemed like yards of blood-spotted bandages.

He dropped them into the sink, then stared at his chest. He couldn't see through himself to the bathroom wall, so that was probably a good sign. Mostly it was just like someone had taken an evil ice cream scoop to his chest, just to the right of his sternum. Bits of rib were still missing, and his lung hadn't completely healed, but as he watched, his body continued its work to put everything right.