Outcast

CHAPTER ONE

I stared at Monty and shook my head.

We were standing near the entrance of a specially designed obstacle-labyrinth course. Dexter had created it to train the potential battlemages he planned to torture, once the Montague School of Battlemagic was operational.

“I can appreciate the work Dex put into this course,” I said, glancing at the entrance. “I don’t see why I’m being chosen to break it in, you know not being a mage and all that.”

“Precisely,” Monty said. “The Cretan Course was designed for fledgling mages embarking on the battlemage path.”

“You just made my argument for me,” I said, shooting him a glare. “I’m not a fledgling mage embarking on any path.”

“You’re not a proficient mage, yet,” he said. “There’s still some hope for you. Right now you’re in the same position of students who will be using and training on this course. I’d say you’re a perfect candidate.”

“Feels more like the perfect guinea pig.”

“Are you insinuating I’m trying out new, untested devices, traps, and casts on an unsuspecting target?” he asked. “That seems a bit extreme. I think you may be overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I took a deep breath. It’s possible I was overreacting, but I had a good reason for it. I was being hunted by my own hellhound. “I’m not insinuating anything. You are trying out new, untested devices, traps, and casts on an unsuspecting target—me.”

Peaches rumbled at me as Monty produced a sausage and fed it to my ever voracious hellhound, who proceeded to hoover it out of sight instantly. I wasn’t a fan of this arrangement they had. Monty would create sausages out of thin air, in return, Peaches would chase me through the torture maze as fast as he could.

I knew for a fact Peaches was enjoying himself because he told me as much. He could move faster than was fair.

<I can’t believe you would agree to this. I’m your bondmate.>

<The angry man makes good meat. He said he would make extra meat if I caught you fast. I like extra meat.>

<I’m your bondmate. Don’t you think this is wrong?>

<Meat is never wrong. Extra meat is good for me. I’m still growing. You should eat extra meat, then you could grow too.>

<Extra meat is good, except when it’s poisoned. Remember Thomas?>

<He was a bad man. The angry man makes good meat and he gives me extra. You are still my bondmate. You are always my bondmate. Would you like some of my meat?>

<I would like you not to chase me through this maze.>

<Then I don’t get meat. Meat is life. I will give you some of my meat, then you will run faster. That will make catching you harder.>

<I doubt even you believe that. This is bondmate abuse, you know.>

<I would never abuse you. You are the best bondmate I know. Do you feel better now?>

<I’m the only bondmate you know.>

I shook my head.

My own hellhound selling me out for spectacular meat made sense, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. I, also knew Peaches was only doing this because this was training, and Monty was making the meat. He would never betray me if this was a real-life scenario.

The image of the two of us, bloody and beaten, facing off against a horde of Shadowhounds and shamblers was still fresh in my memory.

Kali’s words came back to me from that nightmare scenario—a true nightmare scenario and I would do everything in my power to prevent it from happening.

“It looks grim, does it not?”

“It looks like death.”

“Yes, in this situation, my curse would keep you alive, but your hellhound would perish. He is not immortal. Nigh indestructible, yes, but even hellhounds have their limits. In addition, to save your life, he would sacrifice his own.”

“No.”

“Yes it’s what bondmates do.”

“I wouldn’t let him.”

“There would be no choice.”

I shuddered the memory away as I turned to face Monty.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” I said, glancing from Monty to my determined hellhound. “How am I supposed to outrun a hellhound? He doesn’t even run. He blinks in and out as he chases me. That’s not running, that’s teleporting.”

“Consider this good practice,” he said. “The next time we encounter a teleporting enemy bent on your destruction, you’ll be prepared. Forewarned is forearmed.”

“That’s not telling me how to deal with this theoretical teleporting enemy,” I shot back. “All this does is let me know I can’t outrun a teleporting enemy.”

“The how is not my concern,” Monty said, looking at his watch and adjusting one of the dials. It was a recent, dark-blue Patek Philippe Grand Complications acquisition and I could tell he was pleased to show it off, considering his last one had been obliterated. “I just care about the end result.”

“The part where I get mangled and slobbered to death?”

“Only if you’re slow,” he said without looking up from his watch. “Don’t be slow.”

“You do realize he can teleport?” I repeated for emphasis. “How am I supposed to compete with a teleporting hellhound?”

Monty brushed some lint from his sleeve.

“These questions are beginning to sound like excuses,” he said. “You do realize hellhounds have unnatural enemies?”

I felt a cold shiver grip me briefly.

The unnatural enemies he was mentioning were Shadowhounds.

I thought back to the time I tried to get Peaches obedience lessons with Mori. That hadn’t turned out to be such a great idea. We had entered Ezra’s training area unarmed—well not that we had a choice.

It was part of Ezra’s rules.

No weapons in the training area. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought. It seemed like the prudent thing to do. I mean who brings weapons to a training lesson?

Turns out, that when it’s a training lesson for a hellhound, I should bring all the weapons. Before I knew what was happening, we were facing what I later discovered to be Shadowhounds. Unpleasant creatures about twice the size of a wolf, with poisonous fangs and claws.

Looking to sink them into my hellhound.

The Shadowhounds were specifically created by Hades to destroy hellhounds, and like them, they had the same teleportation ability along with a nasty temperament leaning toward the lethal end of the spectrum.

Even though I had taken Peaches for a training lesson, I was really the one being tested. No one bothered to inform me of this little detail until after the lesson was over.

Welcome to my life.

Ezra had wanted to know if I would be able to rise to the occasion. With Mori’s help, we managed to fight off several Shadowhounds, and survive the training lesson.

“I’m not seeing what Shadowhounds have to do with me outrunning my hellhound.”

“Truly, there are times your mind resembles a neutron star.”

“Bright?”

“Dense.”

“I thought they flashed? Aren’t they called palpitating stars?”

“No, you mean pulsars.”

“Exactly. I just said that—flashing stars like a heartbeat, palpitars,” I said, secure in the knowledge that this would completely derail the conversation. “Tell me that’s not the name of a star.”

“It’s not, and stop stalling,” he said. “You can do this. It’s your hellhound bondmate. You have nothing to fear. Perhaps some minor mangling, excessive slobber, and a few minor injuries here and there.”

I gave my hellhound a wary look. He was practically vibrating with anticipation of our next run.

“He seems too excited to hunt me down.”

“He’s playing,” Monty said, glancing down at Peaches and patting him on the head. “This is good for him as well.”

“Good for him?” I asked incredulously. “He cracked one of my ribs with that massive head of his in a battering-ram move. Then he dislocated one of my shoulders when he blinked out and reappeared above me, right before landing on me with all of his weight.”

Monty nodded.

“That was quite creative,” he said. “I’d say his mastery of teleportation has increased considerably. We will have to find new ways to challenge him and test the limits of his abilities.”

“That wreckage was just on the last run. That’s your idea of fun?”

“For me? No. For him? I’m sure he’s enjoying himself immensely.”

“You know what? We should take a break,” I said, holding up a hand. “How about two, three, months from now, we meet up again for another try of ‘Simon gets mangled’?”

“You are improving,” Monty said. “Last time you almost lasted three minutes. You need more focus. Perhaps employ some feints and misdirection in your strategy?”

“More focus?” I said, looking at him in disbelief. “You seriously think I’m failing because I lack focus?”

“That and I think you need to take this seriously,” he answered. “This is not only training for you. Your pup needs to go through these training courses. Since you never procured formal lessons for him, this will have to suffice as a replacement.”

I stared at him for a good three seconds.

“The last two attempts say otherwise,” I said. “Also aside from teleporting, he has twice as many legs as I do. He weighs about as much as the Dark Goat and knows how to use his weight as a weapon. This is completely unfair.”

“Simon, you, like your creature, have grown in ability and skill,” he said, staring at me. “Commensurate with that growth, our enemies have also grown in threat level. If you do not learn to do this when some creature isn’t trying to rip off your arms and bludgeon you to death with them, you will be forced to learn how to deal with these threats in situ. That is not ideal.”

“I know it’s not,” I snapped. “I have yet to meet an ogre willing to take a moment to let me blast it comfortably. All of my learning has been in situ. What did you expect? We’re constantly up against some insane creature trying to turn us into paste.”

“Which I’m trying to mitigate with this exercise,” Monty finished. “These simulations have value. Now if you’re done stalling, let’s run it again. This time be creative, use misdirection, and really try to hit him this time.”

“You want me to really hit my hellhound?” I asked concerned. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Hurt him?” he asked, looking at me, then at Peaches. “Your hellhound has been hit by vehicles and beings far larger and more dangerous than you, with the intent to cause him real harm, and he walked away with no lasting harm. I don’t think you can actually hurt him at this stage in his growth.”

“That and he’s not even giving me a chance to react to his attacks.”

“That too,” he said with a nod. “Perhaps pickup the pace, think a few steps ahead and try to actually outwit him. Be proactive, not reactive.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this too?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Monty said, waving my words away. “I do this strictly for the data. I take no pleasure from seeing your hellhound land on you in a single bound, nearly crushing you into oblivion. What kind of person do you take me for, some kind of sadist?”

“I think you’re the kind of mage that would enjoy seeing me crushed repeatedly,” I said, taking my place at the start of the obstacle-labyrinth course. Monty crouched down and whispered something in my hellhound’s ear. “What exactly are you telling him?”

“Nothing significant,” Monty said, waving my words away as Peaches took his place several feet behind me. “I promised him extra, extra meat if he managed to stop you in under a minute. So far he has excelled in your apprehension and detention, but it’s still too slow. He needs to move faster.”

“You what?” I asked, incredulous. “Did you just tell him to move…faster?”

“Ready?” Monty asked. “Remember, no providing contrary instruction. This training needs to be as authentic as possible.”

“If it’s supposed to be authentic, why am I the only one being chased in this simulation?” I asked. “Why isn’t my lovely hellhound chasing and pouncing all over the both of us?”

“First of all,” he said, pointing to his suit,“this is a recently runed bespoke Zegna; it doesn’t take hellhound slobber well. In addition, your hellhound has been known to destroy my property. This is a brand new Patek.” He held up his wrist to show me his amazing watch—I mean timepiece. “I was on the waiting list forever before they agreed to my purchase.”

“I’m sure the next creature we face will respect your love of overpriced watches,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll be careful not to crush your wrist along with the watch.”

“First, timepiece not, watch,” he corrected and continued. “What you wear is a watch. Second, and more importantly, out of the three of us here, only one of us lacks the ability to teleport away from danger. Care to guess who?”

“Oh, ha, ha,” I said, shaking out my arms and looking ahead at the training course Dex had created at the school. “I still think this is unfair.”

“Duly noted,” he said with a nod. “I’ll even make sure you get a five second head start.”

“Your generosity knows no limits,” I said. “A whole five seconds? Truly, I’m touched.”

“It has been mentioned more than once. Ready?”

I nodded.

He raised an arm and brought it down.

“And…go!”

I ran into the obstacle.

Even if I could really hit Peaches—which I couldn’t—he was my hellhound after all; there was nothing I could hit him with hard enough to throw him off course.

He was basically a tank disguised as a hellhound.

His skin had been getting denser lately, especially after he had entered battleform a few times. It was as if his skin retained some of the properties of the battleform even when he was no longer in it.

I headed into a corridor, mentally ticking off the seconds. Monty would be fair in that he would hold Peaches for an actual five seconds, then he would unleash him on me.

If this had been a real scenario, fear would be my driving motivator. There was nothing quite like having a hellhound chasing you. Right after the fear, despair would settle in as I realized that it was pointless.

There was no way to escape a determined hellhound coming after you. I couldn’t even hear him. For such a large animal, Peaches was incredibly quiet.

The only thing that saved me was our bond. I could sense him when he approached and blinked. Every blink felt like he disappeared from my senses. When he blinked back in, his presence would rush at my senses.

Usually by then, it was too late and he was above me or right on me, but I was getting better at telling where he was.

It took me a few seconds, and three runs to realize that I was failing because, aside from the fact that I was up against a hellhound, I was playing by the rules.

No more rules.

I formed a dawnward and focused my energy, waiting some distance from the corner of an intersection in the labyrinth. With the right angle, my dawnward could obscure his vision and I would be able to land a shot on Peaches with my magic missile.

He wanted to play hardball, we were going to play hardball.

Even so, I would make it a glancing blow. I knew he was tough, but my magic missile really packed a punch.

I didn’t want to hurt him—not even accidentally.

I crouched down near the curvature of the dawnward and waited. I heard his paws on the stone of the obstacle course and I knew he wasn’t even bothering to hide.

He knew where I was and he was coming for me.

I was ready.