Chapter 25: Geeking Out

Like I told Hellie before, I knew where he lived. It was about a forty-minute walk from the woodlands and through the countryside, counting the few stops we made so I could add more spells to my repertoire.

It turned out that my little dust nap restored my magic, but it hadn’t stopped the pain.

Although walking and reading from Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users was cumbersome, I managed. However, it was more difficult to hold the book in one hand and project the phone light with the other than to learn magic on the fly.

First, I needed to do something about my pain. I had some headache medicine and water in my backpack, but that did nothing. I found a simple healing spell that converted my remaining water into a healing elixir. Luckily, it was enough to reinvigorate me, and due to Hellie’s unearthly healing, she was already a hundred percent.

Second, I found a few defensive spells. One was a rudimentary shield that I buffed Hellie and myself with to reduce the probability of physical attacks hitting, and the other was a shield that radiated from the palms of my hands that I could use to protect against magical energy attacks. The most troublesome thing about that spell was that the defense’s strength depended solely on my willpower.

Finally, I scanned the hellhound chapter once more. I verified that hellhound masters possessed the ability to see through their hellhound’s eyes.

So I didn’t imagine Hellie running.

Another couple tidbits that I learned were that Hellie and I indeed could communicate mentally; safe from the influence or prying of other beings or entities, and something else super awesome: if I carried a tuff of Hellie’s hair, I would gain her Hunter’s Invisibility.

I looked down at the silky black hair in my hand, then tucked it into my pants pocket. It guaranteed that nothing and no one other than Tiny Jem would see or hear me coming.

That was incredibly reassuring, since I knew his house had a perimeter of lights fortified with cameras. I stood on a nearby hill submerged in the shadows, undetected by the security system, watching Tiny Jem through his glass-walled home.

Tiny Jem and two guests partook in spew-inducing debauchery in the great room. Because of the welcomed darkness, I couldn’t make out the details. The room lights were out, but the room’s glass-enclosed fireplace allowed me to see the trio in their loose, flowing bathrobes, drinking and, I presume, taking drugs while getting physical.

I bet the bastard was celebrating my death. He was just that arrogant too, not even bothering to verify if Hellie and I were dead.

Despite my invisibility insurance, I had been waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.

After Hellie and I took care of some magical business—removing Tiny Jem’s protection runes—I sent her to destroy the house’s power grid and backup generators. Not that I had any reason to doubt Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users, but I came here to murder the guy. I wasn’t leaving behind a shred of evidence.

And to triple down on my paranoia, I rolled on my black gloves, put on my black mesh face mask, and pulled up my hoodie.

F’ yeah. Now I’m in stealth mode.

Not long afterward, I got the cue I had been waiting for when the power shut off.

I wanted the bastard to be in darkness, the way he’d left Hellie and me, but the light from his fireplace and the moon granted him plenty of visibility.

Tiny Jem dashed up immediately and stumbled out of the great room, leaving his guests. I tracked him as he slowly bumbled down the hall. From the lack of grace in his walk, he obviously had to be plastered. After steadying himself against the wall several times, he entered the corridor to the basement. My best guess was that he was heading to the fuse box. I was hoping that would be his first instinct.

Great.

I needed him away from the thruppling, so I could take them out of the equation and minimize the casualties.

When I woke up this morning, I never thought I’d choose murder, but here I am. But I’m not killing those dopes for having poor taste. Besides the evening activities, I’d bet they are escorts. Okay, Hellie. Put Tiny Jem’s guests to sleep.

I slipped out of the shadows and came back to the house. As I moved down the hill, I saw Hellie slink around to the great room window in her beast-dog mode.

I was too far away to see her actions, so I slipped into her vision.

I immediately noticed Hellie’s glowing eyes and hulking body reflecting on the glass wall. Then I shifted to what had her attention: Tiny Jem’s guests.

The man and woman were locked into Hellie’s burning, white stare, unable to speak or move.

The pure terror that fell upon them struck a nasty chord within the pit of my stomach. The brief empathy made me glad I was not on the receiving end of Hellie’s handiwork. Within seconds, they had collapsed, sleeping. But from the expressions on their faces, it appeared as if they had died of fear.

Once I reached Hellie’s side, I had a strange impulse to place my hand on her ribcage. That was how she communicated with me, through our connection with impulses and instincts. I used words, and she used feelings, but the difference didn’t matter. We understood each other.

I placed my hand on her ribcage. My next instinct was to keep it there and walk forward. The problem was the glass wall right in front of us. But I succumbed to my feelings, threw out logic, and we stepped into—correction, through the glass.

Hellie phased us into Tiny Jem’s great room. Although my mind reeled, walking through the glass felt no different than walking through an open door.

You’d think the incarnation of Gluttony would be living in filth or, at the very least, a junky hoarder’s lifestyle. But no, it was quite the opposite. The floor space was modern, amazingly immaculate, and very effing impressive.

I had been here maybe once or twice, and it was always, “Don’t touch anything.” Above the fireplace’s front-facing side was a replica of the Boomstick. Above the shotgun hung a radiant holy sword, a legendary broadsword, and a Japanese katana—each a custom-made fan-favorite weapon from classic fantasy films.

Along the glass wall to the side of a white leather sectional couch were five glass cases with life-sized mannequins of superheroes dressed in actual movie costumes. Behind the sofa were three more glass cases with authentically clothed anime-styled statues, and just beyond those on an interior wall were the posters for each of the characters’ films.

I was fanboying just looking at the new additions. And that wasn’t even the best of Tiny Jem’s stuff. All the cool shit was in the basement: toys, statues, props, posters, high-value comics, games, cars, and on and on. It was a damn museum down there.

I was lost in thought, geeking out, but I had to snap out of it. I was there to kill Tiny Jem, not swoon over his collection.

Pushing the collectibles out of my mind, I followed Hellie as she moved past a glass coffee table in front of the couch and positioned herself over the two bodies on the floor. She leaned her nose down and sniffed them.

I noticed an array of liquors, an assortment of pills, and a platter of other drugs on the table. The trio had jostled the whole area by the couch. Items were overturned and spilled.

Damn! With this payload, Tiny Jem’s wasted out of his mind.

What is Hellie doing? Why is she still lingering over those people?

I chose to look through her eyes again. She was looking through the floor. A radius around the pair was transparent. It appeared as if their bodies were hovering in the air over a room on the lower level.

I pulled back to my eyesight and watched. I had a feeling about what Hellie was preparing to do.

“Shit! The fucking power is out at the grid,” cried out Tiny Jem, followed by a door slamming.

As soon as Hellie heard, she set her giant paw on the bodies and gently pressed down, phasing them through the floor, guaranteeing their safety.

I sent her a mental command to get behind the couch and blend into the shadows. I sat on the sofa, spreading my arms across its back, and crossed my right foot over my left knee, projecting confidence even though I had no effing clue what I was doing.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“I’m coming, my piggies. Piggies?”

I could tell from his voice that he was halfway there. When he finally blindly stumbled into the room, the effect of his partying was on full display. He waved a bottle of champagne around before chugging on it. Then he stopped in front of the fireplace. Woozy, he balanced his hand on the glass container and peered into the fireplace—still unaware of me.

“Let’s finish partying. I’ll deal with that shit in the morning.”

“You won’t be here in the morning, Tiny Jem.”

“Da fuk.”

Tiny Jem dropped the champagne bottle and spun around. Unfortunately for me, his robe flew open when he turned to face me, showing me more than I had ever wanted to see of him.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

I reached into my hoodie’s pouch and pulled out a handful of rocks.

“You didn’t do a good job hiding your protection runes.”

I let the rocks drop from my hand onto the floor.

“There is no way you found those or escaped on your own! That was weeks’ worth of crafting. Which one helped you? Envy? Lust?”

“Would you mind closing your robe?”

“Yeah, I mind. This is my home.”

Ugh. I tried.

I chose to capitalize on his suspicions and lied to get information. “I don’t know which one. They didn’t tell me. All they said was ‘finish him.'”

Tiny Jem’s body wobbled as he touched his head. I could tell he was trying to sober up. Suddenly his voice unfurled into an exhausted, icky voice, and grey smoke rolled over his body.

“I know it was Envy. That jealous bitch! She always works against us! I told Pride to feed her to you first, but he didn’t listen. None of them listen.”

As his anger grew more intense, the shade of red in his eyes burned brighter.

“Who are the others? Are they students at Bramwell-Gates Art Institute like you?”

“I gave you a shot at knowledge. That opportunity has closed.”

“No worries. I found you, so I’ll find them. I just like spoilers.”

“You and your bitch dog will die this time!”

“Oh, I see what you did there. That’s not a spoiler. It’s misinformation.”

Hellie’s growl rumbled behind me. I didn’t even need to look to know that her eyes were glowing in the darkness.

Hellie stepped over the couch and, with her left paw, smashed Tiny Jem’s coffee table of chemical delights, and from the massive noise that followed, her tail must have crashed into the display cases behind her.

Tiny Jem’s persona pushed forward, forcibly overtaking Gluttony’s appearance.

“No! My shit! Get that devil dog off my white leather couch. Do you know what movie it’s from?”

I knew what movie it was from, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of gloating. Instead, from my comfy position, I sent my girl to get fed. “Hellie, eat that piece of garbage.”

As she attacked, I saw Hellie lunging at Tiny Jem.

Right then, I heard two sounds in succession: the deafening blast of a shotgun, followed by an orange flash that filled the house, and the yelp, almost death cry, of a wounded dog emanating from Hellie as her body flew back and over to the right, thumping into the glass wall.

With Hellie out of my line of sight, I saw Tiny Jem had materialized the Boomstick from the wall using his powers, shot my hellhound, and now he had the glorious weapon aimed at me.

Pulling the trigger, Tiny Jem shouted, “Get some!”

Dammit. Why did I think this would be simple?