Chapter Six
Unlike the other times things had gotten tense, Murron refused to cower in the corner and wait for everything to come crashing down. The challenge had been issued and she would step up to the plate, no matter what happened. She'd never been a particularly aggressive person, but when the world was ending and one's life was under serious threat, things certainly changed.
As the Apocalypse raged outside, Crowley and Murron put their heads together to work on her offensive skills. He showed her a number of truly devastating spells, many conjured simply by the spoken word. Fire seemed to be his specialty, as many of these spells resulted in the conflagration of its target. He kept the ones that required complex rituals to a minimum, preferring instead to focus on spells that could be cast in a matter of seconds if in the field. With the sigils still active, there would be no need to expect an attack at the house, a fact that negated the need for ritual. If their enemies were going to launch a coup, it would be out there.
One afternoon before Murron was setting out to do a quick supply run, Crowley put a stilling hand on her arm. "Hang on. There is one thing I need to do before you go."
"Did I miss something?" Murron asked, self-consciously patting herself down, reaching for the coin pendant, and running a quick hand through her bag. Crowley shook his head.
"I should warn you, though, this might hurt a bit." With that, Crowley gestured towards her eyes, fingers curled in a half-fist as he rearranged her soul contract. Murron bent over in pain, biting her lip to keep from crying out. In a moment, it was done and when she opened her eyes, she gave a violent start.
A massive propane-blue hound stood at Crowley's side. It affected the air around it like a heat haze, gently flickering as though its body were made entirely of flame. She could almost hear the crackling burn, that roaring blaze that accompanied wildfires, as it slowly moved in place, blood-red eyes taking in the measure of her. It didn't appear to view her as an enemy; she relaxed a bit.
"How long has that been in here?" she asked, pointing at the flickering hound. Crowley gave the beast an affectionate pat on the head and the thing leaned into the touch.
"Growley?" Crowley gave a small mouth shrug. "He's always here. I consider him insurance for myself. Only just got back, though, didn't you, boy?" At that, 'Growley' chuffed at his master. "Had to leave him behind during that one run, you know the one that ruined my suit. I've had him trailing you since I gave you the coin."
"So, this is the 'he' you were talking about then?" Murron prompted. Crowley nodded, still stroking his hound's fiery head. "How come I never noticed him before now?"
"You couldn't see him. Only other demons can see hellhounds. Well, other demons and those about to die at the end of their deals," he tagged that last bit on almost as an unfortunate truth.
"But I'm not either of those; what's changed?"
"I adjusted your contract to include the ability to see hellhounds," Crowley explained conversationally. Murron's mouth formed an 'O' in response.
"Are they all this big?" she asked next, carefully circling around Growley. He followed her movement with his eyes, reluctant to break contact with his keeper's hand.
"Nah, most of them are no bigger than your average mutt. My Growley here? I bred him to be this big," Crowley replied proudly, mussing Growley's cheeks with both hands. When he noticed Murron staring at him strangely, he smirked a bit and seized one her hands. She sputtered incoherently in her confusion as Crowley put her hand on Growley's flaming head, holding it there until he felt her fingers relax. Growley gave a very small rumble at the strange touch, but remained still.
"He's not hot!" Murron breathed as she began to gingerly pet Growley's 'fur'. "It's still weird, though. It's like touching living gas! But he's still solid. Very weird."
"It is a very unique experience," Crowley agreed, chucking his hound under the chin. "And a rare privilege for a human."
Murron smiled at that. It was a further sign of trust that Crowley let her see and touch his hellhound. The effect was not lost on her, and she felt Crowley understood that. She spent a few more minutes running her fingers through the strange smoky landscape of Growley's head and withers, enjoying the sensation of flames tickling her skin. Knowing something this impressive was following her enhanced her confidence. She'd be just fine, no matter what came at her.
Finally, Murron stopped petting Growley and blew out a decided breath, mustering her reserves of courage. "I'd best get this over with," she remarked, shouldering her bag and starting for the door. Crowley followed, Growley padding silently after. The hound paused just behind her as she opened the door, passing through when she did.
If someone had told her she'd be out food shopping with a five foot tall flaming hellhound at her side three months ago, Murron would have never believed it. As it was, the presence of the snuffling beast was almost as great a comfort as if Crowley himself had been there. Growley was an extension of the Crossroads King and that was enough. Still, it was becoming difficult to explain to the people they passed why their carts suddenly veered and their groceries flew from their hands. Growley's impressive bulk, invisible to everyone but Murron, dislodged everything he squeezed by. Murron took to browsing empty aisles after the last person had leveled a cold glare at her.
"Walk behind me," Murron whispered to the hound. "But keep close." Growley snorted in response, falling back slightly to keep pace just behind her and the cart. She'd chosen an out of the way grocery store for the day's food run. There was little chance of Corrine or her cronies running into her here. That didn't excuse any other demon encounters, unfortunately. Growley's presence was a double-edged sword: while he kept her safe, he also announced to any possessed human that Crowley was associated with her.
With this risk in mind, Murron kept the trip short. Growley went outside ahead of her to keep watch by the car as she paid for her groceries. As she loaded the conveyer belt, a challenging howl shattered the drone-like atmosphere of the store. For a moment, no one seemed to know what to do. Then Growley hurled himself through the wide main window of the grocer's, blood on his muzzle, and thundered over to where Murron stood. To everyone else, it seemed as though the window had shattered on its own and they ran, screaming, to avoid the sudden rainfall of glass. Amid the ensuing chaos, Murron, abandoning her things on the belt - the cashier had already taken cover behind the counter - followed after the great hellhound as he made for the rear of the store. Carts flew in every direction as he tore through the aisles, eager to reach the loading docks and get Murron out of the line of danger. Murron kept pace as best she could, dodging the thrown carts and panicking people that almost prevented her from keeping the hound in sight.
Finally, they both burst through the swinging doors leading to the back of the store, ignoring the indigant cries of the workers that had yet to begin flailing about. Growley careened through the loading dock's door, Murron at his fiery heels. The lot behind the store was clear save for some trucks and piled crates. They had to escape without the car, Murron realized, silently thanking Crowley for restoring her health, as she ran with all her might after the hellhound.
Suddenly, four plumes of black smoke swept across the lot, bypassing the fleeing pair and blowing into the dock's destroyed door. Murron glanced over her shoulder just as those same workers she'd passed before cam hurrying out, eyes full-on black and their pace inhumanly fast. Ahead of her, Growley broke his stride to cut a crescent spin, his smouldering claws scorching the ground as he rounded about and started for the demons.
"That's Crowley's mutt!" one of the demons cried. Two of the four demons hung back to take on Growley while the other two continued after Murron. She stopped herself from looking back at Growley even as his snarls and yelps sounded behind her, coupled with the pained screams of the demons stupid enough to fight him. She kept her eyes fixed ahead of her, the lot's surrounding fence coming into view. She'd have to jump it, and put more force into her run, pumping her legs until her muscles burned in protest.
The force of something striking her from behind threw her to the hard ground. Murron's cheek struck the concrete, leaving her dazed just long enough for the two demons to catch up to her. She heard them sniggering above her, clearly pleased with themselves. It wasn't until the sky above them darkened, the light turning a hazy red around them, did their snickering cease. Murron looked up with some difficulty, her mouth opening before she knew what was happening as the crackling swirl of red smoke descended upon her.
Trust me!
I do. Murron closed her eyes just as the smoke enveloped her, filling her with Crowley's demonic essence. She surrended to his control, grateful for the chance to rest, as he worked magic she never would possess through her. As if in a dream, she watched as the demons were thrown aside, their bodies catching flame before they landed again. She saw Growley join them, his muzzle and fur covered in demon blood. Sensing his master's presence, he looked to Murron's body for further orders.
"Let's move, boy!" Murron heard herself say. The lot blinked out of view: Crowley had transported them away.
Murron woke in her bed an indeterminate amount of time later. Her head ached along with her legs. Two depressions on the bed at her feet and side told her she wasn't alone. She lifted her head to see Growley curled up at the end of the bed, his wolf ears pricking up to see her awake. "Guess I got a dog, after all," she mumbled, her head dropping back onto the pillow.
"Love me, love my dog, darling," Crowley remarked from his place at her side. She turned her head to look up into his face. "Sorry about the ride."
"Don't be. I was in no condition to take on that many," Murron assured him. She rubbed her head, wincing at the pain. Crowley had the decency to appear apologetic. "How long have I been out?"
"Couple hours. It's an exhausting thing, being possessed."
"No kidding."
"Can I get you some tea?" Crowley asked after a moment of silence passed between them. Murron nodded. He gave her a brief smile, then disappeared.
While he was gone, Murron took a moment to think about what had happened. How much had Crowley heard before he decided to take action? She guessed it had been after he realized Growley couldn't take on all the demons, especially after they'd separated. Whenever it had been, she was grateful. It had been strange, willingly taking in a demon's energy, and allowing herself to be possessed. Of course, it had been anyone but Crowley, she never would have extended that kind of trust. Because it had been an extreme gesture of trust, letting him in like that. It seemed to be the thing with them: when one demonstrated perfect trust in the other, they were bound to pay it back in kind. Murron began it by trusting Crowley with her soul; he continued it by trusting her with his life. From the deal to the sigils to the coin to the ability to see hellhounds - his hellhound - to the open acceptance of his power into her, it had been a constant circle of give and take. Funny how in the span of barely a month and a half, Murron had managed to create a strong bond with none other than a demon. She'd said already it had been worth it to make the deal; now she knew it had been the best decision of her life.
Crowley reappeared with the tea; Murron pushed herself up into a sitting position and accepted the china cup with gracious thanks. Rather than sitting beside her again on the bed's edge, he rounded it and settled himself on the empty side. Murron watched as he arranged himself comfortably, tipping his head back to rest against the wall and closing his eyes. Growley shifted from his spot to lay closer to his master, propping his head on Crowley's knee and snorting for attention. Crowley absently scratched behind the hound's pointed ear in silence. The scene in the darkened bedroom, Growley's shimmering body the only source of light, was almost domestic, and surprisingly warm.
Murron put her teacup on the bedstand, then reached out and put her hand over Crowley's free one. He rolled his head towards her, eyes opening halfway to see her smile kindly at him. In that perfect silence, Crowley closed his fingers on hers, returned the quiet smile, Growley's contented rumble the only sound in the room.