Deathless

Chapter 32: Millie

The black beast crawls over me, its plate-sized paws landing on either side of my head. Hot coppery breath scalds my skin as blazing eyes look down at me. A deep growl leaves its throat, ricocheting across my shaking bones. The more my fear grows, the more logic leaves me. The urge to scream is overwhelming.

I can hear Roisin and the boys yelling somewhere in front of me. Though they can't see the creature, my body pinned to the ground, the whimpers escaping my lips tells them all they need to know.

Jackson's deep voice cuts through everything and though I can't understand his utterance, the beast immediately climbs off me. With a huff, it settles down nearby, never taking its eyes off mine.

"What is going on?" Roisin screams, her hands clinging to the twins, who are still buried in the fabric of her sweater. "What did that? Oh god..." Her body seems to give way, she sinks to the ground pulling her boys with her.

"It was a Hellhound, " Jackson says matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?" Roisin screams.

"What did you say to it?" I snap as I sit up weakly. Jackson rushes forward to help me, but I shake my head and do it myself. "What was that?"

"I said down," he responds casually. "In Welsh."

"Welsh?" I repeat, the fading adrenaline leaving my mind slow and throbbing. Spots dance in front of my eyes as my lungs struggle to regain oxygen. "They respond to Welsh?"

He shrugs, looking impatient, a dark piece of hair falling in his eyes.

"Ever heard of the Gwyllgi? Well, the first Hellhound trainer was from Newport, so most legends originate from..."

"What are you talking about?" Roisin leaps up angrily, her arms waving in front of Jackson's face. "What the hell is he talking about?" She turns to me, eyes wild and hair wilder. Archie starts to cry.

"Oh baby, mummy's sorry." She rushes back to their side. "She's just trying to work out what this idiot is muttering about."

I turn to Jackson, who's looking tired, just too tired to be dealing with whatever this is. He looks terrible—deep violet rings under his eyes, an angry lump on his forehead, dust coating his crumpled clothes.

I exhale, still feeling light-headed, and sink back down. I clutch the soft grass, letting the silky blades slide between my fingers. The fresh scent permeates my senses as ground myself with something normal.

"Jackson? What is going on? What are you doing here? How do you know it's a Hellhound? Are they something to do with people not being able to die? Why can I see them and Roisin can't?" The questions tumble out of my mouth like coins from a slot machine.

"You can see them?" he mutters, frowning deeply. I nod, and he runs his hands through his hair, looking thoughtful and disturbed. Once again he moves toward me, this time when he reaches for me I don't pull away. I let him drag me to my feet. Putting my hands on his chest, I lean against him. I'm too tired to be too angry right now. I want the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of pressing myself against his warm body.

"You shouldn't be able to see them." He looks down at me. "They must be hunting you. They're not done with you yet." There's fear in the metallic glint of his eyes. I groan and take a step backwards.

"Come on Jackson, context please?"

He takes my hand and drags me forward with him, toward the path that leads around the house and back to the street. I shake my head and pull back, moving to stand closer to Roisin and the boys.

"We have to go. We have to go now." He snaps, calling to me like a trainer commanding a dog. Or maybe a Welsh Hellhound. It's enough to make me ignore him. I sink to the ground by the boys, glaring in his direction. I hear growling. The Hellhound is looking at me, its teeth bared and eyes flaming. Jackson says something else in the Welsh and it falls silent, dropping its head between its paws.