Page 2 of Hellhound AU

“Oh, no. I don’t know anything about a cabin,” I answered. “I’m just taking a walk through the woods.”

“Okay then. Enjoy!” he stated, and then he walked toward the cabin, brushing into me and rolling over my toes with his suitcase as he passed by.

He smelled even more delicious up close, even if my toes hurt now.

He was ten feet away when I decided to follow him. I didn’t think he was a cultist, but he obviously knew about the cabin. I hadn’t thought to check who actually owned it, and I supposed the cult could have been squatting. Maybe it belonged to this guy, although that didn’t explain why he hadn’t used the narrow dirt road that led to it.

I caught up to him easily, and he just looked over at me while continuing to bumble along through the woods. I was still trying to figure out what to say when he stopped short.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked, sniffing the air.

“Oh, yeah. I think there’s a cabin on fire up ahead,” I answered.

He looked at me, raising his eyebrows. Shit. Regular humans would probably call the fire department or something.

“I don’t have a cell phone,” I blurted out, like that was a reasonable explanation for knowing about the fire and not doing anything.

He huffed then started roll-dragging his suitcase along again. I stood and watched him, unsure what I was supposed to do now. He wasn’t a cultist, and he didn’t seem lost or in distress.

He turned around, raising his eyebrows again. “Are you coming? This suitcase isn’t going to drag itself.”

And that was how I found myself carrying a heavy as fuck suitcase through the forest toward the cabin I had just set on fire. What did the guy have in here, anyway? Bricks?

We stopped in the clearing and both stared at the burning building. A piece of the roof fell in as we watched.

“Huh. Well, that’s definitely on fire,” he said.

I set the suitcase down, rocking back on my heels a bit. “Yup.”

He looked at me. “No cell phone, huh?”

“Nope,” I answered.

“Hmm. Well, I guess we better watch to make sure the nearby woods don’t catch on fire.” With that, the guy plopped down onto the grass next to his suitcase, then he looked up at me, waiting for me to sit down, too.

So I did. “I’m Rowan.”

He turned and smiled at me, and it lit up his entire face. He had the prettiest gray-colored eyes I’d even seen.

“Milo,” he said, then he opened a front zipper pocket of his suitcase. An apple fell out and rolled toward the trees. “Want an apple?” he asked.

“Umm, no thanks.”

“Ok. Suit yourself. I have brownies, too. Homebaked and still warm.” He pulled a baggy out of the same zippered pocket, and I could see from the condensation in the clear bag that the brownies were indeed fresh. They might even still be warm.

Milo saw me eyeing the bag, and he opened it and put it down next to me. He then took another apple out of the suitcase and bit into it. I eyed the brownies, which really did look good. Ihadjust taken out a whole cult of people. That was hungry work.

I looked up to ask Milo if he was sure, but I stopped when I saw him. He was happily gazing at the burning cabin, eating his apple as if nothing whatsoever was wrong. The freaky thing washowhe was eating it. He’d apparently started at the bottom, and he was working his way up the apple. I watched as he ate the core and the seeds, and by the time he got to the stem, I figured he’d eat that, too, only he tucked it into the pocket of his suitcase.

He had to be a chaos demon. That was the only explanation. I sniffed again, but all I got was the smell of human.

Milo heard me sniffing and turned to face me. He picked the brownie bag up again, smiled at me, and waved it in front of my face. The brownies really did smell chocolatey and rich. I took one from the bag and bit into it while Milo watched. I waited for the chocolatey goodness to explode in my taste buds, only what I got was neither chocolatey nor good. I sputtered and coughed, the horror show in my mouth making it impossible for me to chew or swallow.

It was both burnt and raw at the same time, and I wasn’t even sure how that was possible. It also didnottaste like a brownie. I wasn’t sure what it did taste like. Pain and suffering, maybe?

By the time I cleared the tears from my eyes, Milo was frowning at me. “No good?” he asked. “Dammit. I followed the recipe Ethel gave me exactly, and I didn’t even mix up the salt and the sugar this time.”

He looked at the offensive brownies as if this was somehow their fault, then he stuffed them back into the suitcase. He stood up, brushing off his pants, and I stood up, too.