Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Kellan

The hellhound's snarls grew louder the closer he stepped toward me. The blade in my hand felt like a cement brick. I prayed to the Heavens that this deranged dog wouldn't take me out.

What a way to go, huh?

Death by hellhound in another realm.

I was positive they'd been plucked from the depths of Hell somewhere in time. Hence the name. He jumped forward, snapping at me as if I would run from him. Like most predators, he seemed to enjoy the chase. Part of me wanted to attempt a run toward the nearby field.

Maybe a townsperson would help me off him.

However, leading a hellhound into a village I knew nothing about wasn't smart. Neither was this journey to The East Realm apparently, but there I was, attempting to save some girl I knew nothing about out of a sick, twisted attempt of revenge for my family.

I jumped forward, slashing my knife toward his face but missing by inches. Almost instantly, he snapped at my wrists, piercing my skin and drawing blood.

I ground my teeth together in pain, slinging him around toward a nearby tree by my wrist; he flew against the trunk and whimpered. His teeth tore into my skin deeper, causing my wound to open. Blood dripped down my wrist, and I cursed myself for letting it happen.

The hellhound circled me, playing out a dance that he and I were currently undergoing in the forest.

He snapped again. This time he missed by inches, so I stuck my knife out and caught him in the shoulder. He backed away, shaking his head back and forth in pain while pawing at the ground.

I weighed my options.

I could hunt him down and kill him.

Or let him go. He wouldn't mess with me again—most likely.

He howled in pain, this time retreating into the forest. I prayed he wasn't calling a family of his little hellions to help.

Looking at the spout of blood on my wrist, I went with the latter and began trudging toward the village. He could consider this his lucky day. The old wooden houses were built closely together, with not much coverage in the winter, but these people were survivors.

They made it happen. As people on Earth did decades before things became easier physically.

I shoved my knife back into my boot, wrapped my palm around my wrist, and stalked closer. I needed someone that held an ounce of sympathy to help me.

Music and laughter spilled over the closer I grew to the village.

I rounded the nearest cabin, and a small human crashed into me. The little girl fell backward, shook her head, and jumped to her feet. Dirty blonde hair was stuck to her smudged face.

Her blue eyes rounded, and she pointed at me. "Help—"

I leaped forward and wrapped my hand around her mouth, pulling her back against me as the music continued in the distance. "Listen," I hissed. "I'm not here to hurt you or your family. I need help. A hellhound got me," I said, pointing toward my bloody wrist. "Can you lead me to your mother?"

She didn't budge.

"If I let go of your mouth, will you scream?"

She shook her head.

Letting go, I waited until she scurried away from me to stand up. She wore a long dress made of rags in different colors. Her gaze was quizzical and skeptical at the same time. "What's your name?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Kellan. Where are your parents—"

She crossed her arms. "How old are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. As if my age made a difference about anything. I was a strange man in her village, and she wanted to know my age.

I chuckled humorlessly under my breath. "I don't think you want to know that anyway. You probably wouldn't believe me. Where are your parents, little girl?"

"I'm six," she said. "I can do a cartwheel. Want to see?"

"No—"

She performed her cartwheel with a proud look on her face. For the briefest of seconds, I felt a pinch in my chest, bringing back memories that I wanted to forget.

"Where are your parents?" I asked again, making her hear me this time.

She folded her arms again. "Over there in our house."

"Which house?"

"The one that is ours," she said with a smartass grin.

"Are you going to show me the way? Why don't you bring your father to me? I'm bleeding."

She pursed her lips in defiance.

Sighing heavily, I pushed passed her and into the village. The poverty of the place was written in the poorly made cabins, the lack of shoes on the children playing, and the fire pits with small animals roasting for lunch.

I walked the opposite way of the growing fire and music, toward a bundle of cabins to the far side.

The little girl caught up with me a few seconds later. "My parents' cabin is back that way."

I ignored her.

I didn't care who helped me, but I needed someone to wrap this pronto. The closest cabin's door was open, so I stopped in the doorjamb and knocked on the door.

A woman scurried into the room wearing a dress styled from the 1800s, her red hair piled on top of her head, and a scar running through her left eye. "Can I help you?"

The little girl beside me pointed toward my hand. "I found him in the woods. He said a hellhound got after him. I don't believe it. He looks funny. Look at his hair and clothes."

I narrowed my gaze at her until she hurried out of the room.

The woman wiped her hands on a towel hanging over the pocket of her apron. "I'm not sure I do either. I haven't seen a hellhound around here in ages."

"Well," I said, raising my hand to show her. "I guess they're closer than you think."

She sighed. "Sit down. I'll wrap you up, so you can be on your way."

What a warm welcome.

I sat in the chair, feeling my weight cause the wood to whine underneath me. She scurried to her kitchen, pulled out a small shoebox, and walked over to me. The plants she pulled out made me cringe.

I should have brought bandages with me. Though being blindsided with a potential reunion with Deidamia had consumed me. My thoughts weren't what they usually were.

She tore a piece of shaved bark with her teeth and began to clean my wound. She kept herself busy, her gaze glued to my wrist while she began to put raw honey on the teeth marks. "He got you good," she whispered to herself. "I probably need to warn the others. We've had our share of attacks over the years, but it's been a while."

"This one's pride is hurt. I doubt he'll come back anytime soon."

"What brings you here?" she asked, sticking the bark to my skin.

"I'm looking for someone. I'm a bounty hunter."

She lifted a brow at me. "That's nasty work. Who are you looking for?"

"Someone's daughter, Josephine."

She nodded. "There you go."

I stood slowly in an attempt not to frighten her. "I'll be on my way. Thank you." I walked toward the door, stopping with my palm on the doorframe, and I looked over my shoulder. "I do have one question for you, ma'am."

"What's that?"

"Do you happen to know where I can find Deidamia?"

She stalled in the kitchen, her face grew pale, and her eyes shifted toward the creaky wooden floor. "Why—why do you need her?" she whispered as if to hide the conversation. "I don't suggest looking for her."

"If only," I mumbled. "She took my bounty."

Turning toward the kitchen, she began to straighten random things on the table. "Then you should just go home, sir. You won't be getting Josephine back."

I furrowed my brow. "I didn't ask that. I asked where I could find her. Do you know?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "Please leave, and do not speak her name again in this town. It'll bring bad omens to us, and we're hardly surviving as is."

When she left the room, I knew I wasn't getting any more out of her. I turned and stepped out onto the porch. The little girl sat on a rocking chair in the corner, humming while she played with a small makeshift doll on her lap.

She looked over. "Deidamia is a witch. She's not nice."

"You know where she lives?"

"Hannah!" the woman inside the cabin yelled. "Go on home now, girl."

Hannah looked at me as if she wanted to say something.

"I'll get your, Daddy! Now!"

Hannah did as she was told and hurried off the porch toward her house. Sighing, I swiped my palm down my face, wiping away the sweat, and found my way out of the village.

With the village behind me, I glanced at my wrist which looked better than it had from the honey. The nearest village appeared to be miles away from the road that connected them.

I needed a shower and a bed. Perhaps I would run across a hostel and find somewhere I could rest my head.

A deep forest lined both sides of the curved gravel road, and it didn't look inviting.

There was a darkness that settled in the depths of it. It was as if the sun didn't dare shine on such a place. The feeling of being watched loomed over me.

Not that I could see well enough to know if someone watched me or if it was the thought of Deidamia nearby that had me on edge.

I swallowed the pain throbbing in my throat and tightened my good hand into a fist.

A crow cawed nearby, and the memory of it hit me in the chest so hard I stumbled to a stop. There was no way to know if it was the same crow I saw as a young man. How in the hell would I know?

But something about those beady red eyes was unforgettable.

I waited, listening to his caw grow closer until it landed on the road several yards in front of me. Staring. Judging. Looking. Because that was how she watched. Through that stupid crow.

Dropping to my knees, I dug out the slingshot from the side pocket that I kept for good measure and grabbed a rock.

The bird didn't flinch.

Aiming, I waited until it flew upward to shoot.

My stone nipped his wing, making him call out in pain.

Let that be a silent warning to Deidamia. I was coming for Josie. I was coming to avenge my family. I was coming to strip this woman down to the person she was under all those demonic powers.

I wanted to see Deidamia bleed. I wanted to see her die for everything she'd done to me.

I just had to find her first.