The Hound
from Hell
It seemed like the perfect gig,
working the weekend at Casey’s Upscale Suites for the Discerning Canine.
“Please Scott.” Casey with the big
green eyes, was also braless. Not that I had a prayer at anything but
friendship, what with her being a Master Wizard and me being – well – me. A Magic
Studies drop-out. Still, I could use the cash. There were those pesky gambling
debts I owed to Big Barry Short Fuse.
I said yes. What could
go wrong?
“No vacancies,” Casey said. “But there’s an Ambrose
Jenkins yet to arrive.”
She left on a cloud of Zanzibar
perfume and shortly after, the doorbell chimed.
A large gentleman, Yorkie in arms, stood next to a thin, greying man
with hooded eyes and – oh my Zeus – a three headed hound?
“We’re full,” I said. “Unless one
of you is Mr. Jenkins.”
“I am.” The portly man
pushed inside.
The hound owner
followed. “I’m Darius Mortimer. You will take my dog.” His voice echoed like we
were in an underground cavern.
Jenkins lifted his
triple chins. “I have a reservation.”
“I decided to take a
holiday. That trumps your reservation.” Mortimer blasted fetid breath in every direction.
Jenkins stepped back. His face paled.
“My niece can watch my dog.”
Mortimer’s smile was
grim. “How fortuitous.”
Jenkins’ exiting speed
was impressive in one so large. Fearing I’d lost Casey a regular customer, I
asked Mortimer the strange dog’s name and whether it required three bowls?”
“It’s Cerberus, and that
would be wise. You won’t want the heads fighting each other.”
I led the hound toward
its suite. He smelled like he’d rolled in dead horse and encountered a bonfire.
That seemed odd, but not as strange as the other dogs’ behavior. Instead of lying
on their comfy beds, each animal was pressed close to the furthest wall of its enclosure.
Poor things, I thought. Those sensitive noses.
I settled in to play
Video Poker.
Around 9PM I heard a
commotion outside and looked out. A
small crowd milled about on both sides of the street. Strange. The kennel wasn’t in the
entertainment district. Some were shuffling, and a few were naked. I slammed
the door and locked it. Whatever was happening out there, the police could handle
things.
Then Cerberus set up a
howl. It sounded like 5000 lost souls from hell and soon every other dog joined
in.
“Shut up,” I yelled.
That bought me five seconds before the din resumed.
My cell rang. It was
Casey. To escape the barking, I took it outside. The sidewalk had grown more
packed. Three people grabbed my arm and started yelling:
“Where am I?”
“Who are you?”
“Is this Detroit?”
Casey’s voice was
louder. “Scott, our neighborhood’s on the news. What’s happening over there?”
“I don’t know!” Ducking
back inside, I triple locked the door. The dogs still howled in concert, but that
was less disturbing than whatever was going on outside.
“Biscuits,” Casey
yelled. “Bottom drawer.”
I found a small box under a huge
flashlight which I took out and laid on the desk. The box was tiny. How could there
be more than a couple inside? But as I upended it, biscuits rained down. Ah!
Casey’s magic. I grabbed a handful, began tossing them into the suites. One by
one, each dog collapsed in a snoring heap. It took three biscuits per head
before Cerberus went down.
As I got back to the desk,
the lights went out. Grabbing the flashlight, I flicked the switch but instead
of lighting up the place, it started singing “When you walk through a storm……”
That’s when I heard
banging on the door and Casey yelling “Let me in.” I felt my way over and undid
the locks.
“Why’s it dark in
here?” Casey demanded. “And what’s that stupid music?” She grabbed the useless
flashlight and shook it. “Stop that!”
The flashlight quieted.
A white glow lit up the room and shimmered at the edges until Casey told it to
dial down. She grabbed the check-in sheet. There’s no phone number here for
Death.”
“What?”
“Cerberus’ owner.”
“That was death?” My
breath caught. “I thought he was just some guy with a weird dog. How do you
know about Cerberus anyway?”
“Everybody who’s
anybody knows by now. That dog is supposed to be guarding the gates of Hades,
not letting the dead out to come back topside like what’s happening out there.”
I waved my arms. “Those
are dead people? Dead people are coming back everywhere?”
“No. Just Detroit. We
think they followed Death and his hound.” She frowned. “He’s in big trouble.
But where’d he go?”
“Mortimer? He said
something about taking a holiday.”
“The movie!” She
snapped her fingers. “Of course. Such a perverted sense of humor.”
“What movie?” I was
lost.
“1934,” said the
flashlight. “Romantic drama.”
Casey tightened her
grip. “And where did Death go?”
“Italy,” whimpered the
flashlight. “And stop squeezing me.”
“He wouldn’t leave Cerberus
here and go all the way to Italy. He’s somewhere close. Think, everyone.”
“Little Italy?” I
ventured. “In Windsor?”
“That’s it. He’s crazy
for Tiramisu.”
She found him by
getting the astral plane involved, which caused a fracas since it was supposed
to be down for a weekend upgrade. An hour later, Mortimer, or Death, or
whatever you want to call him slunk back and roused his sleeping dog.
“You’d better get that
crowd back to Hades,” Casey told him. “You’re lucky they didn’t try and cross
the river. What if Customs had gotten involved?”
I was awarded a bonus.
The next day I paid my gambling debts and re-enrolled in Intro to Magic like
Casey told me to. You don’t say no to a hot babe like Casey.
