Zora Gray

Herman jerks awake.

That dream, again.

Always that dream.

It’s the worst one. Every time he has it, it’s the same. He thinks he’s halfway lucid through it, maybe, because he can make different decisions. But the outcome never changes. She always dies. In this one, he convinced her to call in sick so they could spend the night together. For a good while, it felt like that was the fix. They got Mariam to bed, cozied up with a movie.

When it was over, he turned to her for a kiss, and she was laying there, just as he saw her at the hospital for the last time. Pale. Broken. Gone.

Herman twists his wedding band around, around, around. Sitting hunched at the edge of his bed, crying again.

He gets this dream whenever he’s extra stressed.

He’s extra stressed a lot.

A 7-year-old, his 82-year-old grandma, and about 30 cats of various ages all depended on him.

It’s been five years since Eliza died. Five years since his life fell apart around him. He hasn’t done anything except work and worry since then. It’s no wonder he’s been having this dream every night for the past month, now. People told him time would make it better. But he still reaches across the bed for her every morning. He’ll absent-mindedly make a second cup of coffee to this day. Sometimes, he thinks he sees her in a crowd. Herman knows it’s normal, he knows this isn’t linear. He’s been through all the therapy, and he knows it’s not a magic fix, either.

He knows he should probably go back, but. He just doesn’t have the time. The energy. The money. So. He keeps going. One foot ahead of the other. Every day.

In a few hours, Mariam will be awake, and he’ll have something to focus on that doesn’t fill him with grief.

Though, she looks just like her mother. Most of the time that brings him comfort. She gets to live on in this way. Mari even laughs like her; three giggles and a snort, something Eliza’d always been embarrassed about, but Herman thought it was so cute. He likes to think she developed that laugh because she heard it so much when she was still growing in the womb, while he did everything he could to keep his very sore and tired wife happy.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. All their plans, everything he’d hoped to do with her at his side; all those milestones, and she won’t see a single one. He’d do them all. He’ll take her camping, he’ll take her to Disney, he’ll take her everywhere Eliza wanted to. He’ll build her butterfly garden. She loved butterflies. Herman’s been trying to do that for years, now, though. Bills keep coming up. Grandma’s back yard is a perfect candidate and, by many metrics, already a haven for the delicate insects.

His wife had a vision, though. A scrapbook, plans. Specific plants for specific butterflies, so she could hopefully glimpse her favorites. Every time he’s gathered up enough to start, something happens. The car breaks down. Grandma needs help. Mari’s school needs funds for an educational field trip. It’s like the world wants the space behind the house to be an overgrown mess. If he can’t even do that, how will he give Mari the life Eliza wanted for her?

At the start of all this, the unexpected pregnancy left Herman in a state of equal anxiety and elation. He dreamed of a life where he’d grow old and happy with her, watch Mari become a capable young woman, retire somewhere peaceful. A cabin on a lake. Maybe they’d have had more kids. Maybe not. He wouldn’t have cared, either way, because he’d spend the rest of his days with nothing but love and light around him. Mari might find her person, have her own kids. He imagined holidays. Getaways. Laughter.

One single decision changed it all. A decision he didn’t make. A decision Eliza didn’t make. One stranger’s choice shattered everything.

There will always be a space beside him, now. Unfilled. Cold. Empty. He doesn’t feel whole. He hasn’t for five years.

“God,” Herman leans into his hands with a shuddering sigh, his skin’s memory still expecting to brush against her. He flops onto his back instead, covering his face with a hand as a sob rips through him. “I miss you.”

“Got some fresh meat for you, Herm. Finally.” Robert drones, leaning on the break room counter as he not-very-subtly adds more than a dash of whiskey to his coffee. “Sorry it took us so long to fill Lightwave’s spot. The applicant pool hasn’t been…great lately.” He’s got a few new scars, these days. Let his beard grow. Same old Robert, though. Maybe a little calmer, now, since he retired the suit.

“Ah, it’s not a big deal. Swim Team’s been managing just f-fine. Sorry if you felt pressured.” Herman’s sitting back in a chair, fidgeting his leg back and forth, trying to summon some energy. Would adding instant coffee to coffee kill him? He needs more than whatever’s in the average cup.

Robert chuckles. “It was also tough to find someone we thought might work well with your current lineup, but, I think you’ll have fun with this one. Calls herself K-9. Got her in the demo room right now if you have time for final approval.”

“Oh, y-yeah, of course.”

“You doing all right, buddy?”

Herman freezes mid-stand, leaning on the table, just for a second. “Yeah, I’m, I’m good.” He grabs his cup and heads for the door, feeling Robert’s you’re-full-of-shit stare burning into him.

“The bags under your eyes would cost you eighty bucks to check on a plane, bud.” Robert shifts his weight to follow him, ever so slightly nudging him. “And you’re slouching again. Gonna get a stiff neck.”

“Pff.” Herman fixes his posture and walks down the hall, doing bad math in his head. Would a three minute walk be long enough to tell him everything? Probably not. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

But of course, Robert knows. He knows almost everything. He’s his best friend. “That dream again?”

He sips his coffee, hoping to everything maybe this will be the mouthful that wakes him up. “Y-yeah.”

Robert pats his back. “Wanna hang tonight?”

“I can’t. Grandma can’t watch Mari that late.” Herman fails to coat his words in neutrality. She’s been getting more tired lately. It’s worrying him. She has a doctor’s appointment at the hospital over the weekend, and he’s terrified they’re going to find something bad.

“I could swing by,” Robert counter-offers. “We can play Uno with the kid, then when she goes to bed, maybe we just, I don’t know. Wing it.”

Herman snorts. “You were winging it when you got that, remember?” He gestures to the scar winding up the man’s neck.

“I won though, didn’t I?” They share a laugh. Robert breaks the comfortable silence that follows. “Just keep it in mind. I promise there won’t be any explosions.”

“Or bar fights.”

“Or bar fights,” Robert concurs. Then, under his breath, as he sips on his coffee: “probably.”

“You’ll be on your own,” Herman jests. “I got a kid to worry about now.”

“Oh, I see how it is.”

When Herman enters the demo room laughing, his smile fades a little bit, staring at you just a bit too long while his stomach dips.

He’d forgotten that feeling.

You’re nervous. Super, super nervous.

Ever since that definitely-cursed collar bound itself to you, your life’s been pretty weird. Long sleeved shirts became a staple of your wardrobe. That didn’t fix the main problem, though. It was hard to work at a dog daycare when every single canine in the vicinity harbored a deep, deep fear of you that tipped over into aggression if you got too close.

You can only guess it’s because you smell like him somehow. Your application to SDN was riddled with crossed-out words and hastily written “but I’m not evil!!” explanations. You can summon a Hellhound with your slip lead. That didn’t mean you were meant to be a villain. You could spin this. And since you lost your career entirely over it, you had to spin it.

You’ve met Robert already. You did your homework on SDN, brushing up on the current happenings, hoping it might help you ace this interview. There was a cool documentary about him and the Z-Team. You’d always wondered where they all got off to after everything went down, and the show answered every possible question. Prism was on hiatus so she could go on tour every year. Invisigal transferred to the youth program SDN offers now, so she was still around, just stopping crime before it can happen instead of after the fact.

SDN implemented an official hero training program, and Flambae is now the head of that. The flashy, hotheaded hero ended on a high note after clearing through the Phoenix Program with flying colors, making amends with all the issues that drove him to the villain life to begin with. Word on the street, he’s a lot softer these days, though that’s not to say he goes easy on new recruits. His workout program, you’ve heard, is especially brutal. Not looking forward to that.

Sonar, Golem, and Malevola remained on the Z-Team. Punch-Up and Coop wound up getting back together, got married, and now they run a hero-centric gym in downtown LA. They still step in to help if things get nasty. And…Waterboy. One of the reasons you’re nervous. The zero to hero darling of the Z-Team, skyrocketed to fame from his clutch role in taking down Shroud; the only Z-Teamer without a criminal record. Local sweetheart. Private as hell about his life, he’s also, to date, the least interviewed member of any SDN team, especially now that he’s moved out of hero work.

He became a dispatcher, and he’s going to be your new boss if all goes well. Goes by Herman, now. Overcame most of his stutter, wrangled his powers in check. He doesn’t even look like that soggy, nervous man you saw on TV after Shroud went down all those years ago. His hair’s dry, pushed back, curling softly around his ears. He stands taller. Looks more sure of himself. Though, there’s this melancholy in his eyes that you can’t miss easily, because…

Well, he’s looking right at you, gripping his mug like he’s trying not to throw it. The stench of stress hits your enhanced sense of smell. Just looking at you freaked him out. You fix your gaze elsewhere. Great. You’ve already somehow done something to upset your potential new boss. This was your final step before either getting benched pending an opening, or finally getting a job that wasn’t retail hell. Your savings account is begging you not to mess this up, but it seems like you already have.

Malevola hurries through the door behind him, panting. “Sorry! Sorry. Late. I know.” She eyes you with a smirk. “I don’t have a say here, I just had to see this.” She approaches, tail swishing, and she holds out her hand. “May I?”

“What?” She’s looking at your arm. “OH! Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

The red woman palms the back of your hand, holding your elbow with her other, turning your arm around as she inspects your predicament. “How long has this been like this?”

The worn leather collar strapped to your wrist has been sinking into your flesh for quite some time now. The slack end spirals up your forearm, nearly reaching your elbow. “Three, four months. One of my friends convinced me to go on a trip to Europe with them, and we found this in a thrift store in Scotland.”

Malevola laughs in surprise. “Funny. Usually the cursed objects gravitate to Romania for some reason. That or, believe it or not, Ohio.” She leans closer, turning your arm this way and that. “Why the hell did you put it on? You’re lucky your body could even handle this. Binding yourself to a Hellhound is brutal.”

You offer her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to put it on at all, but. My friend was…uh.” You glance at the others in the room, eyes moving from Herman quickly because he still seems weird about you, then Robert. “I’m sorry, this is kind of the inappropriate part of the story?”

Malevola arches a brow.

Robert holds back a laugh. “Oh we barely have an HR department. Continue.”

“Well, uh. My friend was convinced it was some kind of BDSM thing. She wanted to put it on my neck. I held my arm up to block her and, well.” You gesture at your arm, shrugging. “It just wrapped around my forearm and stuck there. It hurt. A lot. Even worse when the guys at the hospital tried to pull it out. I actually don’t remember like, three days of that trip after that. I found an old book about cursed objects, and there’s just one page that mentions…this kind of thing. Didn’t tell me much, really. Just that now, I have a, um. Really weird dog.”

“Good thing I’m kind of an expert in these things.”

“Do you think you could get it off?!”

Malevola hums. “Nah, these don’t work like that, I’m afraid. This’ll be a part of you til you die . Eventually it’ll be a cool scar, though. I can see it’s already started to smooth out.” She runs a clawed thumb over the ridges where your skin meets leather. “Does it hurt still?”

“Yeah. No. Well. I’m not sure if I’m used to it or if it’s getting better. Sometimes it’s sore. Most of the time I don’t even notice it’s there anymore.”

Herman finally says something. He won’t look at you. “So what powers did it give you?”

“Well, I’m stronger, faster, and I have a ridiculous sense of smell. I heal fast! And, um. The downside is dogs are terrified of me and try to attack me a lot. Which sucks because I love them. This actually ruined my career so…I’m trying to make the best of it.” You pause. “And then, of course…” You pull off the leather slip lead you’ve looped around your shoulders and take a few steps back. You put this on your application, but you’re still expecting at least one of these people to freak out. Probably not Malevola.

Herman pushes it down.

It’s not the time; not now, not in a year, not for a while. It’s bittersweet. He’s glad to know that someone can give him butterflies again. It gives him some hope. Maybe someday, he thinks. When Mari’s older and can take care of herself; doesn’t need him so much, he will have time for dating. And he can try to find someone that doesn’t mind a hoard of cats, a home that smells vaguely of mildew, and…yeah. No.

Push it down.

Herman manages a genuine smile as you step back. Malevola mirrors you, resting her elbow on Robert’s shoulder as she watches with curiosity. You hook one end of the lead on your thumb as you appear to measure a diameter, looking up at the ceiling. “Probably shouldn’t bring him out full size,” you mutter, settling on a half-open loop, and then you hold it out like you’re expecting something to walk through it.

The smell of sulfur fills the room, and black flames crackle within the loop. An enormous snout appears, huffing smoke. Shimmering yellow eyes fix on him, and Herman takes a step back. Two huge, pointed ears slide under the edges of the portal, flipping to attention when they’re free, and the moment you close the loop around the beast’s neck, the rest of it appears. A black and crimson hound stands on enormous paws, dwarfing you beside it. Its colors swirl through shaggy fur in a brindle pattern.

If it wasn’t seven feet tall, sporting an unusually long tail, and hadn’t just stepped through a portal of black fire, one might be able to convince Herman it was some kind of shepherd mutt. He has no words. He nearly drops his mug.

It licks its chops and shakes itself out; that long, bushy tail whipping this way and that, then noses you so hard you nearly fall over. You laugh and wrap an arm around its muzzle. “Easy, easy. I missed you too, Buddy.” Peeking out from a mess of fur and jaws, you grunt, “If I open my lead as wide as it can go, he’ll be about the size of a truck. I’ve been just calling him Buddy but…”

Malevola is no longer casual. “No fucking way.”

The Hellhound is trying its damndest to drag a massive tongue across you while you giggle and stammer about not wanting to be all slobbery, when he notices her. Buddy immediately splays his forepaws across the floor, pupils swallowing his irises, tail knocking against the ceiling tiles. A tremendous bark rips from his throat. Everyone but her flinches. “Hey! Inside voice,” you pat him, but he’s too excited.

Malevola dives right into Buddy, putting him in a headlock and scratching his ears. “Riot! How the hell did you get bound, you idiot?!”

The Hellhound groans and grumbles.

“Oh, shit. That’s rough, man. I’m sorry.”

You are extremely confused.

“You, uh. Know this guy?” Robert asks, amused.

Malevola looks up from her impromptu wrestling match and nods. “Oh, we go way back. Holy shit. He disappeared forever ago. Everyone thought an Old One ate him. Shit. I taught him everything he knows! I used to train these guys!” She untangles herself from Riot, brushing fur off her top. “This guy, actually, is a Wrathhound, which is cooler. Was not expecting that. Must have taken some powerful magic to bind him. He’s been attached to that collar for years, now. Wizards, man. Assholes.”

You look at him. He pants, eyes flicking to you, his tail swishing. “Is he…am I the bad guy in this?”

He cocks his head with a “Hhhrrn?”

Malevola crosses her arms. “How would you be?”

You reach to scratch his cheek. “I dunno, like. Just seems mean to bind an animal to something magically. He must miss home. Should I release him?”

“You humans are so cute.”

You fail to dodge the tongue. Riot coats half your face in saliva while you laugh and groan. “Augh! Dude, really?” You wipe your face off with your shirt.

“Getting bound sucks, but the worst thing is when they wind up with a bad master. You can’t release him. This is his life now. When you start getting real old, though, come to me. I’ll make sure he’s taken care of after you’re gone.”

You never considered that she might not age like normal people, or at all, until she said that. Riot seems upset at the idea you can die, whining as he resettles his paws.

Malevola turns to him. “What do you think of her so far?”

He sits, tail wrapping his ankles like a cat, and drags you into his chest with a paw and a dignified grunt. You laugh, patting his leg. “He—uh does this a lot.”

Her eyes go as wide as her grin. “Oh, this is new. Never seen any breed fully choose a human. They get bound from time to time by idiots that think they can control them. Not uncommon for these guys to kill their masters fresh out the gate because they don’t seal the bond right.” She notes how you freeze, and waves her hand. “You’re family to him, though. He will never hurt you. C’mere, kid.” Riot leans down, and she shoves her fingers under his lips without fear, lifting his jowls. “Aaaah. I see.”

“What?” you ask.

“Thought maybe he got to grow up before he got nabbed, but, nah. He’s still a puppy. Look at these little baby teeth.”

“Little?!” Herman peers over, eyes wide.

Malevola chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Wait til the adult ones start coming in. They’ll stick out of his mouth, they get so big.” She wipes her hands on her shorts. “That’s why dogs are afraid of you. Hey, Riot?” He grumbles in affirmation. “Cool it on the pheromones. There’s no rivals up here, okay?”

Riot doesn’t seem to like that request. He squishes you closer.

“Rivals?” Robert dares a bit closer.

“Yeah. He’s always with you, he just doesn’t materialize until you want him to. When a Wrathhound claims you as its family, it does it literally. He’s shoving you into his chest to mark you with his scent. They’ve got a gland there. He thinks other dogs would take you from him. The Hellhounds in the Wrath circle are very tribal.”

This is a lot of information, but you’re following well enough. “That’s. Actually so cute.” You reach up to scratch his chin. “Sometimes I make my leash loop really tiny and let him sleep on my lap while I watch TV.”

“Oh, so he’s spoiled. And you’re clever. How’d you figure out how to control his size by yourself?”

You shrug. “It was a fluke. First time he came out, I just held my hand a certain way by chance. Next thing I knew, this big head’s butting into my palm and now there’s this gigantic dog in my apartment. He broke a lot of things. I tried it again outside, which went better. One day I wanted to see if I could bring him out with my leash already on him because I didn’t want him running off and terrifying the neighborhood and…I just found out on accident. It’s like, if I hold the leash in my cursed arm, it turns it into a portal.”

She turns to Robert. “Well, if Herman doesn’t want her, I do. Imagine what we’d do with my rifts!”

You’re relieved to hear that, because it doesn’t seem like he’s impressed at all. If anything his stress levels have increased.

“W-well, hang on now. I didn’t say anything negative!” He approaches Riot with caution. “He listens to you?”

You step out of his fluff, twisting the leash around your wrist. “He does. Mostly. He’s never hurt anyone, never hurt me. Well, not on purpose…I don’t think he knows how big he is. He even lets me ride him which. Honestly that’s really fun. Almost makes getting attacked by random dogs worth it.”

“Oh! On that note, I got something that’ll help with that. You’ll never get his scent off you, but you can hide it.” Malevola opens a rift. “Be right back.” She disappears.

Now it’s just you, Robert, and Herman. Robert’s cool. Easygoing, friendly. Herman seems…well. At least he’s not looking at you like your existence unsettles him, anymore. He’s almost as tall as Riot, smiling softly up at the Wrathhound. “Do you—would he let me…?” He tentatively holds out his hand.

“Oh! Yeah. Can he pet you, Riot?”

He stuffs his whole nose into Herman’s palm with a snort, wagging his tail. It catches on a chair in the corner and flips it over, and he butts his head to the man’s chest. “Ha—oof—Robert!”

“I got it,” Robert laughs out, snatching his coffee before it spills.

Riot licks the hell out of him, even though you’re begging him not to. The leash does nothing. You tug as hard as you can, but Riot is determined. “I’m so sorry—Riot! Easy! Come on man this is an interview—”

Robert’s losing it. Herman falls backwards and just surrenders to it, digging his fingers through the thick fur, snickering. By the time Malevola returns from wherever she went, he’s beyond soggy. “Oh. Guess he likes you too. Careful, he might—”

Herman yelps when Riot lays right down on him, thumping his chin to the floor with a force that jostles his ears. Only Herman’s head is visible; the rest of him is stuck under your damn giant dog. You are mortified.

“—mark you. Ah. So. Wrathhound puppies are pretty generous with their family status. Damn. Gonna need two of these now.” Malevola pinches a simple looking ring between her fingers, and hands it to you. “Handler gets first dibs though, sorry Herm. So this is an inferno glass ring. Looks like obsidian, but it isn’t. Indestructible. Wear this and it’ll make it impossible for dogs to smell his mark on you. He gets to feel secure, you get to go for a walk in peace. Left hand. Don’t put it on your cursed arm. Never mix magics that closely.”

You try it on a few different fingers before finding it fits best on your ring finger, laugh to yourself over the irony only you know, and smile at her. “Oh, man. Thank you. All of my neighbors have dogs. It’s been bad.”

“Wha—wait,” Herman wheezes. “Will this make cah—cats hate me?!”

She thinks. “It might. They’re not hard to make, though. Just give me like three hours, okay?” Malevola nudges Riot’s shoulder. “Come on, pup. Get off him before he suffocates.”

This is a disaster. Herman stands up, dripping in drool, covered in fur, and you’re expecting to get sent to the Z-Team right that instant. You wouldn’t be disappointed! They’re legends, now. But you would never get over the day you pissed off the literal nicest hero at SDN. He holds his arms out, and you brace for the frown, but he just starts laughing. “I haven’t been this wet in years.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Damn, man. TMI.”

Robert catches a snort in his throat.

Herman’s arms drop to his sides with a slap. “I guess. That is a weird. A weird thing to say. I, I meant. Uh.”

You wrap your arms around Riot’s neck to give him someone else to pester. “I know what you meant. I watched the documentary.”

He sags. “Oh, God. I looked terrible in those interviews.” Herman makes a noise as he looks himself over. “I’m gonna. Grab a towel. Uh, be right back.”

Riot tries to follow him, whining as he drags you. “H-hey, no buddy, it’s okay! He’ll be back!” You dig your heels in. He reluctantly slows down, howling softly as Herman disappears through the door. You turn to Robert. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t. Wait.” You turn to Malevola. “Is marking permanent? Did he just adopt Herman?”

Malevola’s struggling not to laugh. “Yeah. This is gonna be so funny.”

You should have made him smaller. But you wanted to impress everyone. And now, apparently, Herman was your weird dog’s new brother. Or son. Dad? You’re not sure you want to ask.

Robert clears his throat. “So I’m pretty sure this is a greenlight for the Swim Team, but I’ll let him be the one to say it.” He smiles at you.

“Oh. That’s a, I’m glad. I really need this. Thank you. And thank you again, Malevola. For the ring. Do you have any other tips? Why’s he still a puppy if he’s been bound to this for years?”

“This magic’s like a time bubble. His essence was trapped in that collar, dormant, until you were unlucky enough to get branded by it. Though, you were pretty lucky. Every circle of hell has it’s own hound breed with different needs. Be glad you didn’t get Lust.”

Robert grimaces.

“I don’t think I want to know,” you say.

“Gluttony’s another bad one. God, they never stop eating. Speaking of. Wrathhounds have an interesting diet. When he’s not in this plane, he’s behind the veil. He’ll feed himself. They eat the souls of those that, well. Deserve wrath. Never in short supply. So. Seriously. You really lucked out.”

“I was wondering why he never wanted anything I offered him. Was getting worried.”

Man.

Riot was really the perfect dog. He’d outlive you, so you’d never have to lose him. He’s smart. He listens-ish. And he won’t get into the garbage. Unless there’s a soul in there.

“Ok—okay, I think I just need a shower, actually, this isn’t gonna cut it.” Herman returns, toweling himself as he makes a face. “It’s very. This is very sticky.”

Riot’s tail goes a mile a minute when he sees him, and you tug on the leash gently. “Hey. Easy. Say hi again, gently please. I know you understand me now, mister.”

His ears drop and he grumble-whines, but he obeys. Riot flops on his belly and inches towards Herman, hitting him with the demon-puppy-dog eyes, a long whine wheezing out of him. He smirks. “It’s all right, bud. I know you’re just, excited.” Herman reaches down to pat him.

“So, you missed it, but. Riot’s adopted you, just FYI.” Robert watches him with deep amusement.

Herman stares. “Wh. What.”

Malevola laughs and clasps her hand over his shoulder. “Yep. You’re marked as family now. He’ll protect you both fiercely, even if he’s in the veil. He can’t build a normal pack back home, so. He’ll build one here.” She turns to you, tilting her head. “You know, Robert, might be best to put her on Z-Team. I can teach her how to handle him better.”

“N-no, wait now. You can help her no matter what team she’s on, right?” He’s been one hero down for almost a year, now. Herman’s already committed to adding you.

“I mean, yeah. Don’t sweat it, big guy. Probably a good idea to keep him with his pack, anyway. He’ll try to claim your teammates, probably. Should probably brief them on that, Herm.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I will.” He looks at you and swallows. There it is again; that twisting, the creeping affection. Push it down. Robert hands his mug back, and he happily accepts the distraction, taking a huge swig before coughing. “Rob—this one’s yours,” he hacks. “Agh! I can’t drink on the job!”

“Whooooooops.” Robert swaps them out.

You tug your leash looser, and Riot whimpers. “Aw, sweetie. It’s okay. You wanna just be smaller? I can carry you around?” His tail thumps. “All right, c’mere.”

The moment you pull the leash off, he disappears. You readjust and hold it open again, and a much smaller version of him steps through; not that larger than Beef, in fact. You scoop him up and he covers your face in kisses while you laugh and scratch his belly. When you catch his eyes, Herman can’t stop it. He feels it. The heat in his cheeks. You have a nice smile, a musical laugh.

Maybe you should be on the Z-Team.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you say, holding Riot in the crook of one elbow as he settles against your chest. You sling the slack of your leash over your shoulder. “I should have probably started him out like this but. It sounds stupid out loud. I wanted to impress.”

Robert regards you warmly, voice full of amusement. “You can summon a Hellhound.”

“Yeah, but. If I told you that and then had this little cutie, I felt like you wouldn’t take me seriously.”

Malevola snorts. “You realize you’re talking to the guy who recruited the janitor into a superhero team, right?”

“Hey,” Herman frowns, his voice pitching. “I did al-alright!”

She smiles at him with so much adoration. “You did, Herm. You really did. I’m just saying. Don’t need to be flashy for Robert. He sees potential no matter what.”

“Ha—aww. Mal.” He melts a little, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Quit bein’ a sap.” She backhands his shoulder, then points at you. “You guys done with her? Cause I got some time to hang. I can teach you some Hellhound tricks and secrets, and maybe I can get you some cool gear for him too.”

You light up. It shoots right through his chest. “Really? Oh, buddy, you hear that? You’re getting the works this week!” You bounce the little creature in your arms, and he growl-yips, tail flipping around.

“Welcome to the team, K-9.” Herman extends his hand as casually as possible, but his brain won’t chill. Just shake her hand. It’s a normal thing. Normal. Be. Normal.

Riot leans out of your hold to lick him a bunch, and he scratches his chin. You fumble him around in your arms to free a hand, clasping his firmly. Your hand is soft, warm, and his is this gross combination of clammy and tacky because of the Wrathhound slobber, but you don’t even so much as twitch an eye. “Thanks so much, sir. Do you know when, uh, when do I start?”

“Pretty, pretty much now. Pro-probably not go out on a call today, but, once Mal’s done, you can meet everyone. I’ll s-set up a meeting once you’re free. Paperwork and stuff mostly, today.” He pulls away, wiping his hand on the one dry spot he can find. “S-sorry.”

You scoff. “I spent forty hours a week getting all kinds of stuff all over me at the dog daycare. Slobber’s nothing. Also. Sorry again. For all that.”

“O-oh, it’s. It’s fine. I g-got spare clothes in my locker, there’s showers here, all good.” He pauses. “Though I’m. I did not expect to be, um. Adopted by a giant dog today. That’s a new one. I might, Mal, later can you—give me a rundown of what that exactly means?”

“Sure thing, boss. It’s not going to upend your life, if it makes you feel better.” She smirks and nods to you. “C’mon, let’s go to the courtyard!”

“Oh! Yeah! Coming!” You follow her eagerly, looking back to the two men, and wave. “Thanks again! Real excited!”

Riot barks over your shoulder, watching Herman with attentive ears until he disappears from view.

Clean clothes laid out, slobbery clothes in a shopping bag, Herman leans against the wall as he dips his head under the rushing heat. He’s been clean for a while. He just needs a moment. Took him a long time to get comfortable with this. The younger version of him would never have taken a shower at SDN. First, he had to actually feel comfortable at all, with the Z-Team. It was rocky from the drop, and beating Shroud wasn’t a fix-all. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how far he’d come.

From zero to hero, truly. Then, of course, hopped to dispatching. In some ways, having to shift his career was why Herman got on so well with the remaining members, though he still favored Robert over everyone. Sonar felt like an annoying older brother most of the time, now; but in an endearing way. Guy still got on his nerves sometimes, but not so bad. If Golem had ever been mean to him, Herman couldn’t remember. But they didn’t have enough in common to count him as a friend. That said; Herman liked him. Always had. He was chill, friendly, and it was never a bad day when they got to shoot the shit for a few minutes between shifts.

Malevola was honestly kinder and sweeter than most gave her credit for. Really reshaped his idea of what a demon would be. When Eliza died, she offered to get a message to her, or from her, if he wanted. Said she had some connections outside of the south road. Herman wasn’t sure at the time, and he isn’t sure now, if he wants that. He appreciated her asking first. He never really forgot that. And ever since the accident, well. She’s been a great friend. A bit tongue-and-cheek, but solid. Protective of him, even.

Flambae has cooled off over the years. Herman still couldn’t say the man was his favorite. He often replays the spaghetti incident in his head for his own amusement. The thing about Chad is he’s not big on apologies, at least not spoken aloud. His early treatment of Herman was rough. Especially when he wound up with Eliza. She was a new receptionist that just floored him from the start. He saw her across the atrium one morning and immediately tripped over himself because he stopped focusing on everything else.

Kind of like you.

He pushes water through his hair, sighing. It’s all just rushing back to him. It’s not your fault, but he’s going to be in a mood today now, he just knows it. Between the horrible dreams, the lack of sleep, and that ache he didn’t know he could feel anymore, Herman honestly wanted to go home early.

“Soooooooo.” Robert’s voice carries in behind him, crashing through his swarming thoughts, and Herman yelps.

“Agh—what? Don’t do that!” He turns, wiping his face, locking eyes with the back of his best friend’s head as he leans against the privacy barrier.

“New girl’s cute.”

Why must he be so perceptive? “Don’t.”

“If we were in a cartoon I think your eyes would have turned into hearts.”

“Robert…” he whines, butting his forehead into the tile.

There’s a grin in his voice. There usually is, but this one’s wider. “Do you think Eli would’ve wanted you to be alone for the rest of your life, Herm?”

He closes his eyes. “Doesn’t matter what she’d want for m-me. I c-can’t add more to my plate. Not til everything’s—I have too much to do.”

“Let me help, then. I’m solid, now. You know Mandy loves your kid. I love your kid. Send her our way every weekend. Take some time for yourself.”

Herman creases his brow, gently bumping his head again. “If she doesn’t need me, Grandma does. She’s. Something’s wrong, Robert. With her. Taking her to the hospital this weekend to see what her bloodwork says. She’s tired all the time. I’m worried about leaving Mari alone with her, worried about her. What if she’s…”

His voice breaks. He goes silent, shuts the water off, and runs a hand through his hair as he straightens up. He pulls the towel off the rack and drapes it around his waist with a sniff, and Robert turns to him with that damn soft look. It doesn’t help. He’s trying not to cry in a public place. Anyone could walk in here at any moment, and if it was the wrong person, he’d never hear the end of it. Chad never quit with the jokes about how Mariam couldn’t possibly be his. Because who would ever want the wet guy?

Well. At least until he finally cracked and beat his ass. In a way, being with Eliza helped him polish his spine a little bit, set into motion the snowball of confidence that allowed him to be where he was right now; but he’d give up all of his progress if he could have her back. He’d be the stammering wet guy again, if just to have her back.

“All the more reason to lean on your friends, Herman. Come on, man. You don’t need to do everything yourself.”

“You all have your own problems, Robert. T-there’s. I can’t. I just have to figure this out.”

Robert sighs and tosses him another towel. Herman tucks the one around his waist into itself so it’ll stay up and starts with his hair. “Everyone everywhere has their own shit to deal with, and that’s why friends help each other. I say this with love, but don’t be a dumbass, Herman. I’m here, Mandy’s here, your team loves you, too. Pretty sure Mal would literally fight God for you at this point, too.”

Herman’s laugh echoes. “I don’t want to send Mari off for this, though. She’ll, she’ll think something is wrong. I-I mean, something might be wrong but. I don’t want her to worry unless it is wrong. She’s too smart. I have—got to play it. Cool.”

“I get you. But. You know. It sounds like you could use someone else, there. Helping you. You know, almost like, a partner.” He raises his brows, gently nudging the conversation back to you with a smirk, and Herman lets out a sad kind of sigh.

“Oh yeah, th-that’s a great idea. Welcome to the team! Would you like to share the crushing weight of life with me? Let’s g-get dinner.” What an insane suggestion, really. Herman couldn’t even let himself think Robert was serious. Getting a girlfriend just for help around the house? Over butterflies? Come on, Robert.

“Oh my God,” Robert giggles, smacking Herman’s shoulder. “Were you just sarcastic? You’re never sarcastic. I gotta mark this on my calendar, hold on.” He pulls out his phone.

“I’m sarcastic! J-just. Not always.” He throws the extra towel on the floor and steps on it, pulling his boxers back on, letting the one around his waist drop once they’re secure. He grabs his shirt, slipping an arm through. “Listen, I. I know. It’s been a—it’s been a while. F-five years. But. It’s not easier yet, Robert. Everyone says. It gets easier and. It’s. Not. So I just. Let me do things m-my way. For now.”

They’ve done this dance before. Robert won’t force his help upon him, but he will quietly stare at him like he hopes Herman will change his mind. And Herman usually does. But. He doesn’t want to be a burden unless he has to be. He can handle this. He can handle you, without making anything weird.

“All right,” he concedes. “For now.”

“Right, so.” Malevola was gone for a while. You’re not sure what’s inside her rift beyond the obvious — a pocket dimension for cool, magical stuff she owns — but you’re also not curious enough to ask if you can peek inside. She hauls a large satchel out with her, dropping it with a huff. “I knew I had some stuff lying around for this occasion. Glad I kept some of this stuff.”

Riot is galloping around after a probably terrified butterfly, snapping his jaws at it every time he can leap closer. Malevola pulls a thick, heavy collar out of the bag. It has a handle on it; you presume for a rider to hang onto, but it’s not quite the right size. “Hellsmithed,” she explains like you know that word. “Just like the ring. It’ll solve most of your logistics problems.” She whistles through her teeth. “Riot, here!”

He skids into a turn and bolts towards her, tongue lolling as the leash drags behind him. Malevola kneels and positions the collar around his neck, even though it’s massively loose, then pulls your slip lead free. In almost an instant, Riot grows to his full size with the thing still in place. Not choking him, not too small, just right. Several people inside the atrium scream.

“Wh-whoa! Oh!” You stagger backwards while she grins up at the beast.

“Take it down a notch, friend. C’mon, that’s it.” Riot shrinks. When he’s about the size he was before, she pats his muzzle. “There ya go. Good. All right. You.” She reaches for your wrist, and you give it. “Grab the handle. Fair warning, it’s gonna hurt.”

“Wh-why?”

“Won’t hurt more than that, though.” She nods at your cursed flesh. “It’ll strengthen the bond you already have with him, and allow you to understand each other more completely.”

Well. She is the expert. May as well trust her.

You grip the handle of his collar and searing agony flies up your cursed arm. You suck in a breath and cry out. Riot noses you with concern before straightening up like he just remembered he left his oven on, and as soon as the pain is over, it feels like you share a mind with him. You lean on Riot, arm dropping when your grip loosens, whining softly. “I think. I think that did hurt more, actually.”

She pats your shoulder. “Did good, though! Look at you. Officially a Wrath Rider! Not many of those left. Never been a human one, either.”

“H-how come?” You steady yourself, arm still tingling with residual pain.

“Hellhounds were kind of like, the horses of hell, you know? Once humans figured out cars and shit, horses became more for fun, right? Same as in hell. The circles don’t fuck with each other much anymore. You idiots are always up to too much shit now, everyone’s busy. The Wrathhounds were kind of the sports cars of hell. People still race them. Oh, man. You’re gonna have a blast with him. Almost jealous. Actually, no. I’m jealous.”

You laugh as she smirks at you.

“Anyway. This is a war collar. Connects you to your steed, as you’ve just done. He can now freely enter and leave the veil as needed, so, don’t worry about ever taking this off. It’ll change size with him. You basically have an immortal, indestructible dog that will never, ever let anything happen to you. Ever. I’d tell you he’ll fight to the death for you, but, like I said. He can’t die. He will fight to someone’s death, that’s for sure.”

You run your hands through his fur with an awestruck grin. “This is unreal.” Riot yowls and groans at you, and you’re startled to hear words among the sounds. Your eyes widen and you stare at Malevola. “He just said he loved me??” The red woman laughs heartily. “Aww! I love you too buddy! Come here!” You hug his head to your chest, scratching his ears with both hands. His tail knocks over a bird feeder.

“Now that he understands you perfectly, he will listen to you. He’s still a puppy that’ll do dumb stuff, but he’ll learn as he grows. In a few months, he’ll be full grown. About the size of a small elephant, then. Keep his baby teeth, also. Give them to me, don’t throw them out. Very powerful magic ingredients. They cannot get into the wrong hands. Hm. What else?” She scratches her chin. “Oh. When he gets his big boy fangs, you’ll need to file them with thiiiiiissss…” Malevola roots around in the bag and pulls out a leather-sheathed thing with a glassy, black handle. “Careful taking it out of the holster. This’ll shave your skin right off. Inferno glass. Never file them shorter than his chin or you’ll nick the pulp. You can also use this to keep his claws in check.”

“This is so fucking cool. I mean. Frickin’. Sorry. Am I on the clock? That wasn’t professional.”

Malevola snorts. “You’re gonna fit right in under Herm. Everyone here swears, don’t worry about it. Well, except him. If you ever hear him do it, though, run. If he’s mad enough to swear, someone’s in danger.”

You laugh nervously.

Riot gets amped up suddenly, dancing on his paws as he stares past you.

“Don’t make who mad?”

“Shhhi—hi.” You nearly disappear into Riot’s fur. How is someone so tall so quiet? Where the hell did Herman come from?

Malevola lightly punches your shoulder. “Oh, I was just telling her not to get on your bad side.” With how playful she says it, you’re not sure if any of the previous conversation was serious. “He looks like a teddy bear, but he’ll fuck your shit up.” She laughs while he stammers.

“Don’t—no, don’t make—listen. Don’t listen to her. Mal, you’re gonna make her afraid of m-me, come on.” He leans back as Riot tries to get him with another lick attack, offering his hand as a sacrifice. Riot accepts, slobbering up to his elbow.

You tug the collar gently. “Easy, bud.” You’re shocked and pleased to see him pull back and sit.

Herman smiles, jerking his head at the collar as he casually dispenses water from his palm to rinse off his arm. “You got him trained that fast?”

“Oh, yeah.” Malevola stands prouder. “We’ve streamlined dog training down south, Herm. A magic collar, some soul linking, all done.”

“Soul. Soul?! I linked my soul to him?”

Herman narrows his eyes at her.

“You did but, don’t worry about it. You’re not hellbound now or anything. Just helps you two work better together.” She pats Riot, then snaps her fingers at Herman. “Oh! Right. Gotcha a matching ring, Herm. Turns out I had another one.” Malevola fishes it out of the bag, blowing some dust off it. “Never take this off, either of you, if you’re near dogs. I’d say just keep it on all the time to be safe. You don’t want to find out the hard way if your cats will freak out, dude. That many would probably kill you.”

So, you think; Herman’s a cat guy. In a big way, apparently. You watch him test it out, finger to finger, before he finds it only fits on his pinky. You don’t miss the flash of gold as he works it past his knuckle with his other hand. Good for her, you think. He’s a good dude.

“Well, the—my—your team, they’re in the conference room, ready to m-meet you. If, uh. Can he be smaller?”

Riot cocks his head. You translate. “You gotta be able to fit in a room, buddy. How about…down to my hip?” The Wrathhound pants and licks his chops, stretching himself out as he reduces his size until he’s closer to a Great Dane. “Hmm.” You study him, thinking. “Sorry honey, just a liiiiiiittle smaller?”

Riot doesn’t seem bothered. He looks up at you with a goofy expression, now the size of a German Shepherd. “Perfect! Thanks, love.” You ruffle his ears and he barks out a you’re welcome! that only you can hear.

This was so cool.

It’s time to turn your misfortune around at last.