Chapter 19: Forewarned is Forearmed

Hellie’s aggressive action made me shriek.

I threw my left hand at the back of my head. My throat dried. Heat bombarded my neck up to the region behind my ears. Then I moved swiftly around Hellie to get her off the man.

She’s eating his face. She’s eating his face.

Hellie was not eating his face, but she was hunched over him, growling next to his neck.

“Get her off me.”

Luckily, too, the whole campus hadn’t stopped to watch as my runaway imagination had led me to believe. There were no more than ten students gawking—some laughing, and some just plain mystified.

Unfortunately, it had to be done. I said, “Down, Hellie.”

To get Nightshade in line, I would have had to tug firmly on the leash, but I chose to softly nudge at the chain, being extra careful not to alarm the already aghast onlookers even more. Thankfully, Hellie obeyed and slowly slinked off the terrified man, who shot to his feet, but she stayed propped on all fours, seemingly ready to strike again.

“What’s going on here?” The question from an authoritative voice broke just beyond the crowd.

I immediately shot a stone expression at Hellie, and she knew not to move. Not long after, I spotted the Bramwell-Gates Arts Institute’s security patch beaming off the stark white buttoned-up shirt of a security guard approaching. When the guard’s pasty face and DIY hairstyle came into focus, the sensation of ugh welled up. Of all the new additions to security, why did the one coming toward me have to be the same one that prompted me to see Mr. Shulenmeyers? Bob!

“You two again.”

Bob looked bothered and outright disgusted.

“I…” I barely cracked my voice before Bob dismissed me.

“Not you, him.”

“I was just trying to give that asshole the keys that he dropped, and whatever she is jumped me.”

“Do you want to file a complaint?”

Flashing a look in my direction, then down at Hellie, he stopped momentarily as if he were hypnotized, then said, “No. I don’t. Here, asshole.”

Angry, he threw my keys on the ground. The reaction elicited a strong growl from Hellie, which prompted him to run off. Yikes. Before I could move to retrieve my keys, Bob walked over, picked them up, weirdly examined them, then pitched them to me.

“I…” Once again, Bob dismissed me.

“Social project, right?”

“Umm. Yes.”

“Wait right here.” Motioning like he was going to lift a gun from a holster, Bob whipped out his walkie talkie and moved out of listening range. After no more than a few minutes, he sauntered over.

“Okay. Let’s see the get out of jail free card.”

***

Home!

When Hellie and I stepped over the threshold of my building, we didn’t get too far past the door—exhausted, we immediately sat on the nearest sofa in the lounge area.

I patted my lap, and Hellie placed her head on the corner of my thigh and got comfortable. I rubbed her hair and looked down at her face in a daze. It was like the environment around me fell away and was replaced with memories of Shellie.

Is she in there? Is she just a beast in human form?

BRAK. A faint crashing sound directed me to the destroyed ping-pong table and its surrounding area in the distance in front of me. A dangling bit of the wreckage finally gave way and hit the floor.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good that I was at home. The disaster that Hellie caused would be in the tens of thousands to repair, counting the damage in my living space.

I have to make some calls to get these repairs underway.

My thoughts of repairs caused me to scan the area. Then, swiveling away from the ruins, I turned to the left until I reached the opposite side. In a fold-out chair between the front stairwell and the entrance to the TV area, Gene sat quietly, looking my way.

“Gene?”

“Billy.”

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Were you going to say something?”

“Eventually.”

“You look bizarre sitting over there like that.”

“Guess that makes us even. You look bizarre over there, getting cozy with a hellhound.”

There was a brief interlude of quiet.

“Did you enjoy your stroll on campus?”

“There was nothing special about it. A tad stressful fending off stares.”

“You realize you may have damned everyone who has seen her?”

“Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users said nothing like that.”

“It doesn’t have to. Most legends and stories of hellhounds state that the creature can kill just by being seen, causing some to become murderous and hypnotizing others to suicide.”

Gene adjusted in his chair, placing his foot on his leg. I knew he was about to launch into a speech. But I was stuck on the last part of his sentence—hypnotizing others to… It sent me into a vertigo, and I had to talk with Hellie quick.

The mental connection wasn’t going to do.

“One second, Gene. I need to speak with Hellie privately.”

I walked swiftly, pulling Hellie into an area outside of Gene’s earshot.

“Is that what you did to that guy?” A bit of nervousness intertwined with my words because I distinctly remembered him looking a bit blanked out. “Hellie, did you hypnotize him?”

“Omg, call it off.”

Hellie looked off into space, not making eye contact, almost identical to a child who had raided the cookie jar and was guilty of holding the cookie behind their back.

“Hellie, I know you skirt the rules. If he does it himself, you didn’t technically do it. But…you cannot harm no one in any way unless I tell you to, understood?”

Dropping her head and immediately popping it back up, smiling with her tongue out, I got the sense that it was fixed. But I gritted my teeth at the thought of what could have happened if Gene hadn’t made that comment. With our private matters sorted, Hellie and I returned to Gene.

“Okay, you got the floor, Gene.”

“You know, you kind of ruined my flow… ”

“Sorry, dude.”

“What I was going to say. Legends, tall tales, and stories all hold nuggets of truth—some larger than others. The patterns are easier to spot because of the frequency of their appearance. How often have I explained that everything written is connected and from the same source? Stories are gifts. An open window into the fabric of things, sometimes literal, sometimes symbolic, but always meaningful.”

I’d heard the lines a million times throughout our friendship, so I jumped in to finish his spiel.

“Yeah, I know. All writers are avatars who pull from the cosmic consciousness to give form to the mysterious.”

I couldn’t refute his theory. Over the years I’d known him, I’d seen countless examples of his views at work. Hell, earlier I cross-referenced that damn moth from The Lords of Omni, a fictional game, to Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users, a book I discovered was real.

“Okay. The possibility is there, but I gave Hellie the rules. She won’t kill. Right, Hellie?”

Her expression appeared obedient, so I petted the top of her head.

“Besides, can is not will. I feel fine. Do you feel okay?”

“For now, but you’re her master. That makes you exempt, dude. Billy, we are dealing with the unknown. We should be chaining Hellie in the boiler room, not taking her to class.”

Hellie popped up and frowned at me. I was confident she understood Gene’s comment and didn’t like it.

“Hey, hey now. We are not chaining her up!”

Gene sharply eyed the dog chain.

“I know I have her on this leash, but that is for safety when we are out.”

In response to my statement, I immediately unlocked it.

“Sorry, girl. You can walk around but can’t leave—and no transformations of any kind. If you spot trouble, get me first.”

Hellie stood up, stretched, and slowly walked around the lounge area.

Gene stood, and I was uncertain what he was planning to do. Then he bent and patted his hands against his legs.

“Hey, Hellie girl. Come here.”

Gene whistled. Hellie excitedly ran over to Gene and crouched down. He did the same and started to rub behind her ears.

Then he peeked around her, smiling, and said, “I thought you might feel that way about chaining her up, so I decided we should arm ourselves in the best way possible—with knowledge.”

Gene, Hellie, and I walked up the stairs to his living space. It was in the front building on the west wing corner, diagonal to my space in the east wing at the back of the building.

According to him, he had gathered a bunch of information on hellhounds and had something mind-blowing to unveil.

On the way, he told me how adorable Hellie acted after waking up, hiding her soft blanket in the couch cushions and playing with the toys Jammer got for her.

Gene had taken a liking to Hellie, and vice versa. I was genuinely surprised by the rapport between the two.

He did warn me though. After the girls made him and Myles leave during their makeover session, he realized Myles had severe reservations about Hellie.

Walking through the corridor, I caught Gene up to speed, explaining to him that Myles and I had been texting. But he still wasn’t convinced Myles would warm to Hellie.

Entering Gene’s space, my eyes popped at the number of books present. The last time I visited his room, he had an extensive library, but walking through the book-covered floor and trying to guide Hellie without causing a book avalanche was daunting.

Stacks of books covered almost every inch of the flat surfaces. It was undeniable that his book collecting had become a hoarding obsession.

“Have a seat on the couch. I need to grab something.” Gene made his way up the stairs to his loft bedroom.

Looking around, it was hard to tell that his space—in fact, all the living spaces on the second floor—shared the same design as mine. He customized the lighting scheme by swapping standard LEDs for the flickering flame bulbs and placing them in vintage lanterns and candle outlets. As a result, the whole place had a dim, amber radiance.

Many lanterns were scattered around the space, tucked next to the books. I would have sworn we were in the Middle Ages if it weren’t for the modern conveniences on display.

Before I sat, I had to push some notepads, booklets, and loose papers away to make room for Hellie and me. Hellie started to lay at my feet, but I took the opportunity to try connecting to her human side—I knew it had to be in there—and teach her how to sit correctly.

“Hellie, stand and watch me.” She stood, slowly tilting her head from side to side, watching my actions. I took off my backpack, laid it aside, and sat on the couch.

“Like this. Turn, bend your knees, and sit back slowly.” I stood up and sat several times in a row, repeating the sentence.

On my final demonstration, I stayed seated at the right-side corner of the couch.

“That’s how you sit—sit on a couch. Okay, Hellie, now you sit. ” She just stood there for a second. Then she turned around, bent her knees, and slowly sat down, but reached back and touched the cushion before sitting.

“Good.” But then, to my surprise, she stood up and repeated the process as I had. Watching her, I saw why the others thought of her as adorable. It was like watching a baby almost understand something, but not entirely.

After Hellie sat working through the final cycle, I placed my hand on her arm. “Hellie, you don’t have to…”

An audible sound of Gene struggling broke my lesson. He came hobbling down the stairs with a barely graspable, towering stack of books resting on his hand and leaning on his chest for balance.

I knew it was going to be a long night.