"Karma comes after everyone eventually. You can't get away with screwing people over your whole life, I don't care who you are. What goes around comes around. That's how it works. Sooner or later the universe will serve you the revenge that you deserve."
-Jessica Brody, The Karma Club

Chapter 8 – a taste of their own medicine

The hallway looked the same as it did before. Nothing changed. I pulled the door shut behind me. Walking on the clothes on the floor felt weird. I made a face as I padded over the clothes. They smelled rank. My paw pads felt dirty.

I stopped and pricked my ears. I couldn't hear anything, but that didn't mean I was alone out there.

Turns out I wasn't alone.

I stepped out into the open at the top of the stairs.

The woman and her daughter stood at the bottom. Diane had her baseball bat. Carmen's head hung lopsided but she held her shovel in both hands. Diane grinned at me and tapped her bat in the palm of her hand. "You're gonna get it now, you bastard."

I crouched down and growled. My hackles stood up, but I realized now that it wasn't because of them. I sensed someone else. My tail knew who it was before the rest of me did. It wagged back and forth.

Dean faded into view beside me. He leaned against the top of the balcony. "Hey, kiddo."

The woman's eyes bulged out. So did the veins on her neck. "Who the hell are you, mister? What are you doing in my house?"

Dean glared at the woman. His eyes turned black.

Diane lifted the bat up. She moved with the same jerky movement I saw before. "No. No no no-" Carmen squeaked like an overgrown rat. They were caught again. She raised her shovel. Dean and I watched them hit each other again and again. The whack and thump that sounded with each smack was loud and pretty damned satisfying.

Dean shrugged. "I know that Three Stooges routine is a dick move but I had to get my licks in."

He blinked green again as he let them go. They didn't come up the stairs. Instead they dropped the bat and the shovel and ran for the front door. The house shook with each step they took. Dishes rattled in the kitchen.

Dean stood up and held his hands out in front of him, palms out. "Hey, I'm just here to see that nobody leaves and nobody smokes out. I'll get the pup out of the closet." He winked at me. "Go get 'em, tiger."

I took the stairs two at a time. When I bounded into the front hallway the demons shrieked and made a break for the back door.

I could have stopped them. I was fast enough, but I wanted to prolong this. The scent of their fear was enjoyable, even even though it smelled like white vinegar mixed with sulfur.

They ran through the tv room into the kitchen. Diane turned towards the wooden block of knives on the kitchen counter. She pulled out the largest butcher knife with her right hand. She was too slow. I leaped up and sank my teeth into her hand. One sideways shake of my head was all it took to shred her hand to pieces. She let out another scream that was most enjoyable. Dark red blood sprayed all over the window over the sink and the dingy yellow curtains. I shook her arm from side to side like a puppy with a chew toy. Her bones snapped like dried twigs and I realized that under the right circumstances maybe that soft mouth of mine wasn't so soft anymore.

For a moment we stared at each other. Her eyes were large, round and shiny. Her mouth quivered. I couldn't put a name to the look on her face. Then it hit me.

Fear. She was afraid of me.

I let her go. Several of her fingers fell to the floor. That was only fair. After all, she always used her right hand to beat me. Karma.

I stood there watching as Diane stumbled through the kitchen and into the back room. Carmen was already at the door, She pulled at the door knob with both hands. She kept looking back at me and that was when I saw she had that same scared look.

There were past scents in the house. They were overlaid by the funk, but I could smell them. I caught the faint scent of my younger self and others. Past scents, past hounds. Other hounds who'd been sent up from Hell for correction. Maybe they were too young or too set in their ways. Maybe they were easily distracted and really needed a gentle hand instead of a hard fist. They weren't bad dogs. I knew that now. They deserved better than this. And so did I.

Right at that moment I didn't know if I was a good dog. I didn't care.

Diane pushed Carmen away from the door. She grabbed the doorknob with her good hand and slammed her shoulder into the door over and over again. Carmen joined her. Nothing happened. The door stayed shut.

The bad stuff inside my head was still there, but it was different now. I was ready to let it go.

I was ready to let it come out.

I raised up on two legs. As I walked forward everything about me grew larger with each step I took. I'd never felt this way before. I was heavier, wider than I'd ever been in my life. My paws shifted into hands. I looked down at myself and rumbled laughter. Perfect. I caught a glimpse of my face in the reflection of a silver metal toaster that sat on the counter. I picked it up. My claws were huge. Shiny black with a wicked curve to them. The toaster looked like a toy lying there against the palm of my hand. The leather of my palms was as black as night, just like my fur. I ran my tongue over my teeth and grinned at myself. My eyes sparked blue. My teeth were long, sharp and pointed. In that moment I was more than a hellhound. I wasn't a pup, either. I was a big bad wolf.

I tossed the toaster over my left shoulder. It slammed into the wall behind me and shattered the wall clock to pieces.

Diane pounded on the windows with her left arm. Carmen joined her using both hands. That made me chuckle deep in my throat. I did the same thing when I escaped. That seemed like years ago.

The glass held. It didn't shatter but it became sticky with their blood.

When they saw me coming the demons screamed and tried to smash through the windows. I was so tall when I stepped into the room I leaned down to keep from bumping my head on the top of the doorway. The floor creaked with my weight.

Diane and Carmen turned Around. They put their backs to the wall.

The woman moaned out loud. At first I couldn't make out the words.

Then I did.

"Please. Please."

Inside my head I heard myself moan. "Please stop hitting me. Please..."

"Please don't do this."

"I'll be a good boy. Please don't hurt me..."

"It was just a job, okay!" Diane sobbed.

Carmen's broad face was flushed. Tears and snot streamed from her eyes and nose. "We didn't mean any harm..."

No, I wasn't moved by this. Not. At. All.

I was thirsty that day. My food bowl was empty. My water bowl had an inch of water in it. It smelled funny but I didn't care. Hadn't eaten in days. I lapped up some water.

My tongue burned. Smoke billowed from my mouth. I backed up. The pain shot from my nose to my tail.

"Dumb mutt," Diane laughed. She dug her fingers into the scruff of my neck, lifted me up and shook me. Hard. "You're so stupid you drank holy water!"

I sprang on the woman first. The back of the house trembled. I put one hand underneath her throat, lifted her up and repeatedly slammed her face first against the walls. She screamed as her skin tore. Her bones broke through her skin.

I grinned a bloody bad dog smile at Carmen. You're next, bitch.

She broke for the basement door. I leaned forward and grabbed her by the ankle with my other hand. My claws sliced into her skin, right down to the bone. She kicked and screamed as I pulled her towards me.

I shook her like a rag doll. Every bone in her body broke.

One day I sat and stared at my food bowl. It was empty except for scraps of dried meat. Tough as leather. I lowered my head, opened my mouth to eat. It was better than nothing.

"Hah! Gotcha, stupid dog!" Carmen kicked me in the side so hard my knees buckled. The pain took my breath away.

I flipped Carmen over on her back and I went for her throat. It ripped open just as easily as the rest of her did.

The broom handle came crashing down on my head and back over and over again. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel my legs and tail. The only part of me I could move was my mouth. "Please don't hurt me," I heard myself say. "Please stop..."

She smiled. "I love to hear you beg!"

All the pain and fear I ever felt in that house flowed out of me through my teeth and claws. Not only for me, but for the others. For all the hounds who suffered and died in that place.

I gave it all back.

Later I came back to myself with a jerk. I don't know how much time passed. I stood over their bodies and I forced myself to breathe in and out.

I looked down at myself and I saw I was shrinking down, little by little. My claws weren't as long. I felt lighter somehow.

The walls were painted with blood. Diane's right arm lay over by the doorway. Carmen's left foot was was still inside her shoe. It was propped up against the basement door.

I don't remember when or how I did that.

The demons lay on their backs. They stared at me wide eyed, as though they still couldn't believe what was happening.

Diane opened her mouth. Then Carmen did too. I knew what was going to happen next. Thick coils of black smoke billowed out over their lips, then curled back down their throats.

I leaned over the woman. Her torn skin and her ribs curved into the open air, a broken cage for her heart. Her black smoke essence coiled and moved underneath. I leaned over her and growled. She ducked back underneath the heart and didn't move again. I padded over to the daughter. When I snarled at her she did the same thing.

Dean was right. Oh me of little faith. They couldn't smoke out. They couldn't leave their bodies.

I didn't want to hurt them anymore, but there was something else I wanted... no, needed to do. Dean was still upstairs and I wondered why he hadn't come down yet.

I felt a slight tickle inside my head. Uh...Hershey?

Dean?

Ummm...a little help here?

I dropped down to all fours and ran back to the stairs in the front hallway. I stopped in the kitchen to shake the blood off. By the time I reached the stairs I was my regular size. My ears pricked up at the voices coming from the bedroom above my head.

"Dude, you can come out. I'm not going to hurt you."

"LEAVE ME ALONE! GO AAAWAY!"

I got it. This was one very angry hellhound puppy versus a big bad Knight of Hell. I ran up the stairs into the bedroom.

The closet was wide open. Dean knelt in front of the door. The puppy was still hidden away underneath the clothes pile. He made a good bluff with all the growling and snarling but I knew deep down he was afraid. The clothes I pulled down on top of him moved as he growled. The inside of the closet vibrated.

Dean nodded at me. Good job.

You saw me?

Yep. Pretty damned impressive. Dean's expression softened as he looked at the hidden pup. Well, he said he wouldn't come out unless you told him to. I didn't want to force him. He's had enough of that crap in this hellhole.

I sat down next to Dean. "Hey you!" I called out.

The pile of clothes shifted and a pale little face with black ears and a black nose poked out. He grinned when he saw me but he gave Dean a dirty look.

"I can't keep calling you 'Hey you'," I told him. "I'm Hershey. This is Dean."

The pup growled.

"What's your name?"

"My mom called me Boomer."

"She did?"

" 'cause I knock stuff over all the time. I got big feet."

"So where's your mom now?"

"She's dead. My pack is all dead now."

"Damn," Dean muttered.

"Oh." For a moment I felt all crunchy inside. What could I say to that? A horrible thought occurred to me. "Did they die because of those two bitches downstairs?"

"No. King Crowley sent me up here to learn how to be a good hound after they died."

"That jackass," Dean growled. "We're sorry about your mom and your pack."

Boomer's look of confusion darkened, turned to anger. "He's a demon. A big bad wolf. He'll hurt me like the others did."

Dean shook his head. "No, I won't."

"Boomer, listen to me." I softened my voice. "Yeah, he's a demon. But he's okay."

"Are you sure?" Boomer blinked. He wibbled. I knew how he felt. He didn't want to believe. He wanted to stay hidden.

"I miss my mom!" he wailed.

"I know you do. But you're safe now."

Boomer stared at me for a long moment, as though he wasn't sure I was telling the truth. He pulled back inside underneath the clothes. We couldn't see him anymore. He didn't trust Dean. And he didn't trust me either.

"Damn," I whispered out loud.

The pile shifted. The pup's head was visible first as he pushed his way out and slid down the slope of the pile. He was right about his feet. They were huge, bigger than mine were at that age. I didn't notice that before. He slipped a little but he finally made it down.

Boomer waddled forward. He eyed Dean warily and wouldn't come close. Dean stretched out his right arm and let him sniff at his fingers. The pup's eyes narrowed but his tail wagged.

Damn tails. They have minds of their own.

Dean leaned forward. He knuckled him underneath his chin and behind his ears. The puppy relaxed. His face softened.

I stretched out my neck and nuzzled Boomer with my nose. "Okay then. We gotta go."

"Let's roll, buddy." Boomer clambered up onto Dean's knee and jumped up into his arms. Dean laughed as he stood up. He skritched him behind his ears. Boomer grinned at him.

"Where to?" Dean asked casually. As if it wasn't a big deal but it really was. He already knew but I said it out loud anyway. Scary things lose their power when they're spoken out loud.

"Hell," I told him.

Next: Hershey, Dean and Boomer go to Hell.