The skin was gone.

The hellhound was now yellow, rotting bone over a pulsing black abyss.

The fangs on its jaws were still sharp, and they had multiplied to the point where it was difficult to see where they began and ended. The creature’s teeth had teeth of their own, and the paws he put forward scratched over the floor with the talons of a giant hawk. They drew over the tiles, leaving deep, burning marks that glowed with abyssal energy. The smell was sulfuric where flames now wrapped around bone in place of its golden fur. Flaming tongues licked up at the ceiling when it opened its mouth, and the lolling tongue appeared again, only now it looked reptilian where it drooped to puddle over the floor.

It grinned at the two of them, and its back feet scratched as it prepared to lunge.

The wizard spoke up just then: “Alejandro.”

The young man turned towards him expectantly.

“I was wrong,” Clark admitted. “Don’t go anywhere. I might need your help with this.”

He snapped his fingers just as the monster leaped. It made it halfway into its dive before the chains materialized around it.

What tags remained transformed all at once. Chains of all sizes, big and small, thin and thick, fell over the hellhound in bright, glowing lines. Some attached themselves to its neck; others, its limbs. The back legs were caught first, keeping the monster grounded. A forepaw in mid swing was jerked abruptly backwards, and the others joined it swiftly in shackles. The tail was also anchored this way. As always, the main chain went looping around its neck, and the whole thing fell with a metallic clatter on the floor. In an eye-blink, a magical web very ably pinned the hellhound in place.

Alejandro saw Clark making more gestures. More conjured chains appeared. They fell without subtlety. He dropped them down one after another over the hellhound. When they crashed, they made huge, banging noises. Meanwhile, he put together the seals to call forth another spell.

Alejandro felt the floor shaking. A moment later, the pipes under the church burst. The explosion was quiet, but shook the entire building to its roots. All around them, water sprouted from the corners of the walls.

A rain began. Clouds formed overhead, blocking out the lights. A storm took shape inside the church, and Alejandro swore he heard then, not a few feet over his head, the boom of distant thunder.

The boy looked. He watched Clark get out another note. This one he flicked with his wrist, before taking to a corner of it with a lighter. The flame appeared, and the note began to burn. Clark threw it into the air, the paper cracking audibly as he bit down on his tongue, making a noise towards it like a loud Tsk!

The paper was small and burned quickly. When it was consumed by flashing, white flames, the real downpour began.

All were drenched.

The rain didn’t let up, heavy pellets beating down upon the occupants of the church. Horizontal lines of water slashed over the pews, washing the wood until they glistened brightly. Alejandro shivered as rivulets of water ran into his collar and down his back. In a second or two, he felt his socks sloshing around inside his shoes.

He looked. Clark was no better. The wizard was similarly doused. The remains of his coat stuck to him like a second skin, and his hair was pressed flat by the deluge. He blinked, and droplets flew from his eyelashes. Lines of clear, cool water climbed over his prominent cheekbones to run along his chiseled jaws. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, and his eyes were focused singularly upon the trapped creature before them.

The hellhound lay squarely in their vision. It was subdued by magical chains, weighing down by water over its body. Raindrops splattered over its torso, washing away the poison. Somewhere in between the seams and rotted bones, eerie green sparks sputtered as the monster tried to fight back against the storm. Then, Clark made a gesture—

CRACK!

The clouds broke.

Thunder—conjured indoors, no less—boomed outwards in a deafening crash. With it came the lightning bolt that lit up the furthest corners of the chamber. For a second, all color was drained from the world, with only a blinding whiteness remaining behind.

The flash seared into the eyes of all who looked on, and Alejandro cried out. He did not hear himself scream. He covered his eyes with an upraised hand, feeling the echoes of the thunder reverberate throughout his bones. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he blinked until he could re-focus his eyes. When he calmed down, he saw the hellhound lying before him, still chained. It sizzled as the last of the lightning washed over it. The poisonous smog was charred until it changed color, transforming into a calming, blue-grey mist. The monster was being held in place, and did not move.

Clark turned to him, and yelled: “Now!”

Alejandro squared his shoulders. He slammed down his fists. With the gesture came a ringing sword stroke over the tiles.

All at once, the boy felt infused with sudden power! His heart lifted, pumping blood to his limbs. He felt suddenly twenty-feet tall. Muttering his prayers with the barest movement of his lips, he took a step forward.

The layered fists came down again, gripping the hilt of his invisible sword. Another metallic crash collided with the floor, and chips flew from the tiles. Alejandro saw Clark smile beside him.

With a nod, the wizard invited him to continue.

A third step!

A third bang, and it somehow seemed louder even than the thunderclap a moment before!

Alejandro felt his heart beat in time with the universe. He heard a chorus in his ears and felt like he was dancing with the angels. He did not take another step forward. Three was enough. Alejandro took a deep breath, seemingly from a place within himself. He stood over the beast, raising his arms with both hands tightly gripping the air. The creature knew its time was coming. It whined from beneath the chains, seemed to shrink in size.

Alejandro readied his holy weapon. His moment of triumph had come.

Meanwhile, the wizard was somewhere behind him, working his tricks.

The hellhound raised its sunken eyes, and its mouth opened wide. It looked like it was about to roar, but no sound came out. The back feet scratched over the floor as it offered faint, mewing resistance before the inevitable.

Then—

My son!

The voice did not come from any particular direction. It simply materialized inside Alejandro’s head. A faint, firm echo that was nonetheless warm, and pleasant to hear. It was so full of caring and yet frightened at the same time. Alejandro started. He could not help himself. The voice belonged to the man had first saved him from death in a darkened alley, and then turned him onto a brighter path! It was the voice of the father he never knew, the mother he lost—

—the family he found.

He turned.

It was his closest brush with demise and he never even knew it.

The smell should have been a dead giveaway. When the body arose, it carried with it a rancid, coppery fume that scalded the nostrils. Its innards were already melted from being submerged in the poisonous vapor, and what skin remained hung off the bones while looking shriveled like rotten fruit. The corpse—for it was a corpse, and nothing more—held in its own rotting innards, and its jaw dropped open at an unnatural angle. When it tried to speak, some teeth fell out.

Yet, Alejandro did not back away. He heard in his head the voice of Father Julien again.

My son! Help me…

“Alejandro, no!”

The wizard’s warning was ignored.

The young man’s head turned in the shambling cadaver’s direction; and through the rain, through the ever-present haze, he saw light returning to the cadaver’s eyes. The hands, also, were stirring. Alejandro ignored the intestines gathering at the corpse’s feet like so much red and black twine. He whirled around and took a shaky step towards it. The sword of air vanished as the corners of the mouth on the dead man twisted upwards into a smile.

Again, the voice:

Help…

The rest need not be said. Father Julien was pleading with his disciple. He wanted Alejandro to put down his sword and take up the hands of a healer. Clark, however, heard none of these things. He had no emotional association with Father Julien, and thus heard the monster’s voice—and recognized the deception—for what it was.

Behind Alejandro, the jaws of the creature opened wide. The huge head pushed upwards, straining against its bonds. The chains were giving, and the rain was dissipating. Unbeknownst to him, the monster could still manage one bite—

—and it would be more than enough!

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