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It's through darkly glistening streets and alleys that the fae dashes through, her lifetime of confidence shattered by the rapid clack of nails steadily pursuing her. Tap-tap-tap-tap. Clack-clack-clack-clack.
Blood still rings her mouth, stains her hands, the front of her modern dress. She's always hunted in the wee hours of the morning. Never been caught and pursued like this.
Tap-tap-tap-tap. Clack-clack-clack-clack.
She careens into an alley, bypassing the trio of people huddled against a wall doing a drug deal. Normally she'd pause, turn on the charm, trick them into giving her more than they realize.
If she did it now, maybe she'd save herself. But there's just no time.
Tap-tap-tap-tap. Clack-clack-clack-clack.
The ally ends in a chain-link fence. She scales it easily, drops to the dirty street on the other side, and keeps running. She knows there's no way a flimsy fence will stop her pursuer. The best she hopes for is that it will slow it down.
Eyes wide with fear, she glances over her shoulder.
Tap-tap-tap-tap. Clack-clack-hssss.
A dark, four-legged shape barrels straight into the fence. The metal doesn't resist. No, it melts instantly under the red and flaming eyes of her pursuer, creating a hole for the creature to leap gracefully through.
She looks away and focuses on escaping. There's no way her centuries of existence is going to end here and now, in the underbelly of this pathetic human city, by a creature who is in service to another, for something considered a crime by those who did not exist when she was already ancient.
Tap-tap-tap-tap. Clack-clack-thump.
Hot paws punch into her upper back, and she slams to the ground with a cry, grit and gravel scraping her palms and face.
"No, no! Get off, you mutt!"
A subsonic growl brings the fear of hell shivering through her. Breath as hot as an inferno bathes her nape in damp heat as vicious fangs clamp tightly over her neck, squeezing without killing. It would be so easy for the hellhound to end her life with one twitch of its jaws.
Which is why she stops struggling, and starts running her mouth. Her voice is smooth and calm: her greatest weapon. "You certainly are a great hound," she says. "Running your prey into the ground. I know you are bound to that human, forced to do his bidding. I could break that bond. I could set you free. My price would be much more favorable to you."
This time, the growl sounds angry, delivered straight into her flesh. Those paws, nails thick and hot and permanently extended, dig through her clothing and into the flesh of her back.
"Don't bother, Mary the Sidhe. He likes his deal with me too much to break it." The new voice comes closer on soft footfalls, rounding her prone form. Thick black combat boots come into view, then thick calves and thighs hugged by dark denim, the hem of a coat that reeks of magic.
She ignores the human, ignores her racing heart to address the hellhound with her life between his teeth. "Hear how he speaks for you? Treating you like a mindless animal? That is disrespect you need not put up with. Release me and I will free you so you may take your revenge."
The human's unbothered chuckle grates on her ears.
"I'd say nice try, but you are way off the mark here, Sidhe." He rummages in a pocket and withdraws a syringe filled with oily black liquid, as well as what looks to be a mechanical wand: a metal rod affixed with all manner of appendages.
"Touch me with that and I'll—"
"What?" The human says gruffly, grabbing her arm and jabbing the syringe into her skin. "Trick me into giving you my firstborn child? Eat the children sleeping in this building next to us?" He shakes his head as dirty, manufactured magic floods her veins. "No. Your murder spree is over."
"It's not murder," she grinds out, offended. "They are my prey. That is how I live." Her magic is one of night and nature, and it cringes and hisses against the inorganic magic working its way through her. She wants to claw at her arm, bathe in the moonlight, rid herself of the human taint.
She remains still, leashed hellfire at her back.
The human shrugs. "Well. Me and thousands of other humans care more about our children's lives that yours." He pockets the now-empty syringe. "I got her, Seungmin. Let go."
The fangs and claws leave her, and the fae springs to her feet, shaking out her arms and drawing her dignity back around her. It's pointless to run. But it's not pointless to bargain.
She gazes down at the human, who rises from his crouch to stare at her, mechanical wand in hand. She resists the urge to sneer.
Even at his full height, the human comes up only to her shoulder. His black hair falls in gentle waves atop his head, leaving beady eyes clear to coldly stare back. A sharp chin, cherubic lips: a handsome face, in all. His arms and chest fill out his jacket and shirt impressively, several charms and pendents nestled in the valley of his pecs. He carries himself with the foolish confidence of so many humans.
She feels the hellhound's dark and fiery presence behind her, but she doesn't turn to look. That one is a lost cause. She has a new target now.
"What are you paid, little human? I've gathered this is your job, hunting down supernaturals like myself in the dark of the night. I'm sure whoever pays you has not the means I do." She takes a step closer, cursing the manufactured magic in her veins that stops her skin from glowing with her own. "I have magic beyond your comprehension. Centuries of wisdom and wonders and treasures. Let me go. Work for me, and I will—"
The human cranks a knob on the mechanical wand and points it at her. A whirring sound fills the air, and the the manufactured magic he injected into her suddenly tugs at her veins. She screws up her mouth as it swirls and pulls, squeezes and stretches her from the inside. Until the dingy ally disappears beneath her feet and she finds herself on another plane of existence. One she immediately knows she cannot escape.
She screams in rage.
Changbin looks at the empty tarmac where the fae child-eater recently stood, breathing out a sigh. The night is blessedly empty now, save for himself and Seungmin.
A few paces away, Seungmin's wet black nose twitches. He looks up at Changbin, and the fiery pits of his eyes have Changbin's stomach lurching like usual. Seungmin's hound form is lean and sharp, resembling a doberman more than anything else. Short and silky black fur, short tail, pointed ears, a bright silver chain hanging around his neck. He's larger than the average doberman, though, and when he stays still for too long, smoke and sulfur begin to waft from him.
Their apartment has so many singe marks.
But now that the threat is gone, Seungmin shifts in a quick second. Changbin blinks, and a tall, slim man clad in black jeans, sunglasses, and a leather jacket stands before him. Seungmin shakes his head out, short black hair spiked up a little from sweat and heat. The silver necklace is still there, and Changbin softens just looking at it.
"Took you long enough," Seungmin grumbles. "I wondered how long you'd let her ramble."
Changbin grins and strides forward, slipping the sunglasses from Seungmin's face so he can stare into those hellish eyes.
"Always so impatient," Changbin says. He surges forward, kissing Seungmin's hot mouth firmly, uncaring if that makes him a hypocrite.
Seungmin bows into him, kissing him back, long fingers sliding hot and dry over Changbin's shoulders. "Any longer, and I might have taken her up on her offer," he whispers into Changbin's mouth.
Changbin's stomach swoops. "Oh yeah? You sick of our deal?"
"Sick of you," mumbles Seungmin, before clutching Changbin closer to him and devouring his mouth.
Changbin just hums into the kiss and doesn't call him out on it.
It's a strange thing, a hellhound on Earth. Six years ago, Changbin had found a huge black dog languishing in a summoning circle, surrounded by bodies and ash. He'd almost sent it back to hell immediately, but a little more detective work showed an obvious story.
A trio of warlocks had summoned a demon, and a demon had indeed appeared. Only this one had a contingent of hellhounds with him. A deal gone bad, a poorly-worded spell, and the warlocks had perished along with the demon and hellhounds. All save one.
When Changbin entered the dungeon-like basement on the edge of the city, the only sign of life had been an otherworldly hound with fiery eyes who raised its head from its paws to stare at him. It was rail thin, ribs and hips jutting through dirty fur, spiked collar hanging loosely from its neck. Changbin immediatly clocked it as a hellhound.
Then it did what none of the grimoires said was possible: transformed into a humanoid.
"Human," Seungmin had croaked, voice ashy and weak. "Are you hunter or prey?" He was dressed in rags that swayed as he lurched to his feet. They certainly were not jeans and a T-shirt, but something that reminded Changbin of medieval peasants, torn and tattered as to be almost unrecognizable as clothing.
Changbin knew better than to give straight answers to supernatural creatures. Taking control of this conversation was crucial.
He'd narrowed his eyes. "What are you? Demon? Trickster? You looked like a hellhound, but no hellhounds can change to look like a human."
Seungmin had shaken his head. The spiked collar that had hugged his furry neck remained in this human-looking form. If not for the small flames where a pupil should be, Changbin would have thought he was human. "I am a hellhound. I suppose we are also demons. We all have this other form, but whoever collars us controls our form. They typically need our hound abilities."
As he spoke, his exhaustion became apparent. His voice lost it's strength, and he more fell than sat on the singed and ashy concrete, surrounded still by occult marks on the floor
Changbin kept his face carefully blank. By answering Changbin plainly, the demon showed just how desperate he was. A demon in a stronger position would have wheedled information from a human before divulging any about itself. Changbin had the upper hand, and it was obvious the demon was not interested in power plays. It made Changbin relax marginally.
"How long have you been here?" Changbin asked. He'd been called about the disappearance of the warlocks, their friends and family worried when they'd been gone too long. Being warlocks, their people were used to rituals that took weeks and months, so they hadn't called him until…
Seungmin pointed to a tiny, grimy pane of glass set close to the basement ceiling. "Sunlight has come through that window 68 times since we were summoned."
Changbin tilted his head. That was a long time. He knew nothing of a hellhound's needs for health, but judging from his emaciated state, two months of nothing was too long. "Why have you not left?"
Cross-legged, Seungmin laughed humorlessly, a dry husk of sound. "I have no ties to a master demon, nor to hell, nor to earth. I am trapped here in this circle."
Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot. "Why do you need ties?"
Seungmin dropped his head to his hand, massaging his forehead. The rags of his shirt pooled beneath his sharp elbow, digging into his knee. "It is my nature. I am a creature of hell, and can roam there freely. But only there. I came here under the power of my demon master," he traced a finger through a pile of ash next to him. "With his death, that tie was dissolved. The warlocks could have bound me, but they didn't. So I am adrift and unmoored." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes with a deep sigh.
"And tired?" Changbin asked quietly.
Seungmin rolled his head to the side, burning Changbin with the dull flames in his eyes. Changbin's gut swooped, not unpleasantly. "Tired and starving," he confirmed.
Changbin chewed his lip. He'd gotten into this paranormal investigation business out of care. Not all supernatural creatures were threats, just as not all humans were innocents. In fact, Changbin prided himself on helping whoever needed help, unbiased and non-prejudiced. He'd gotten burned in the past a few times, when his discernment was incorrect.
But if this hellhound was truly in a limbo— a magical immigration limbo, even—Changbin would like to help. It's not like Seungmin killed the warlocks anyway: he was stuck inside the circle.
"Would you like me to send you back to hell, so you can roam free?"
Seungmin's eyes sharpened. "Are there other options?"
Ah. So not so desperate to give up on bargaining.
"Perhaps." Changbin tapped on his thigh for a moment before saying. "I'll be back."
He half expected the hellhound to call him back, to beg him to stay and help him. But he didn't. Nothing but silence followed Changbin as he walked up the stairs and outside to get reception.
He called Minho.
"Changbinnie. What's up?"
Changbin smiled hearing his friend's light, airy voice. Minho was a walking library of the occult. So obsessed with all things supernatural that he could be a practicing witch at this point. He wasn't, though. Minho said actually doing things was too much work.
"I need your opinion on if this demon is lying or not."
"Tell me."
Changbin did, relaying all the information Seungmin had told him.
"Makes sense," Minho said at the end of it. "Hellhounds never appear by themselves. They are always at someone's beck and call. I think his story is truthful."
Changbin might be crazy, but an idea had been bouncing around in his head the whole time he'd observed the hellhound. "Would it be stupid to bind him to me?"
"Oh?" Minho's voice was playful. "You want to be a puppy's master?"
Changbin flushed instantly, and he couldn't contain his volume as he yelled into the mobile phone. "Yah! He's a hellhound. A vicious beast. Who said anything about puppy?"
Minho's snort offended Changbin deeply. "I don't hear you denying the master part."
"I—"
"Come on, Binnie. I can hear how much you like him from your voice alone. A handsome man in need of help? Weak but snarky? That's exactly your type."
Changbin groaned, but Minho kept going. "I know you wouldn't bind him to you in a sexual way. You wouldn't force him. You can be interested and still be good." Minho's tone shifted to exasperated. "I know how much that means to you. Weirdo"
"Yeah…"
"So to answer the question you didn't ask: there's always some danger in trying to make demon deals. It should be simpler to do with a hellhound instead of an independent demon, since hellhound binding rituals are very one-sided. However, there are few accounts of hellhounds bound to a non-demon master. But yeah, you could do it. If he wants to stay on earth, you could get a valuable assistant out of it, even if you don't get a boyfriend."
"I'm not trying to get a boyf—"
"Save it for someone who believes you," Minho interrupted airily. The little shit was too confident for his own good. "Now do you want to know how to bind him to you or not?"
"Yes, please," Changbin grumbled, and took notes as Minho spoke, squeezing the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and ear while writing in his paper notebook. Maybe he should cave and buy a bluetooth. Because his neck was cramping.
"Wow. You weren't kidding about one-sided," Changbin said, looking over his notes.
"Yeah. Hellhounds are bound in servitude. It's less of a bargain and more of a 'you do what I want or else you turn to ash.' Though some sources mention an energy transfer to sustain the hellhound."
"Thanks, Min. I'll keep that in mind."
When Changbin went down the stairs again, he found Seungmin lying on his back, still in human form. The hellhound slitted his eyes open and said nothing.
Changbin cleared his throat. "So, if you don't want to go back to hell, I could be your master." A shiver crawled up his spine, but Changbin was proud that he got the word out without stuttering. "I could tie you to me. Get you out of the circle. Show you what Earth is like."
Seungmin slowly sat up, long limbs folding in a sort of pained grace. "And what would you expect of me?"
Changbin stepped forward and settled himself on the ground just on the other side of the summoning circle. If he wanted, he could extend an arm and touch the hellhound.
From this close, the hellhound's features were both more handsome and more haggard than Changbin had thought. His heart clenched in sympathy. I could be good to you.
"I'm a paranormal investigator," Changbin starts. "I'd like you to help me find people. I'm guessing you are a great tracker. Definitely faster than me on four feet. I'm sure you know more than me about certain supernatural things."
Seungmin tilted his head to the side, a distinctly dog-like gesture. "So you want me to help you with your work."
Changbin shrugged. "That would be nice. If you don't want to, though, that's okay. I'd just require that you don't harm me or anyone else. Not destroy stuff." He took a breath. "And I know that because of your nature, you must obey your master. I promise I wouldn't abuse that power."
Those flamed eyes bored into Changbin's. Seungmin's face absolutely unreadable. "You'd let me choose?"
Changbin nodded. "Yeah. It sounds like you haven't had much freedom in your life. I believe freedom is the right for all people."
Seungmin narrowed his eyes. "But not freedom to harm others."
A wry smile spread Changbin's lips. "Right. It's a tricky balance, but yes. Being in a society means caring about other people, too. To some extent." His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out. "Do you enjoy harming people?"
Seungmin blinked once, very slowly. "I…don't know. I've always been commanded to hunt and maim. But…I don't know if I enjoy it."
Changbin nodded. "If you were free of this circle, what would you want to do?"
"Eat my weight in beef and take a bath," Seungmin said immediately.
That startled a laugh out of Changbin. How delightfully mundane. "You know what beef is?"
Seungmin nodded, and his haggard face lifted somewhat, expression dreamy. "I've been to Earth twice before. Once we were fed beef. It was the best thing I'd ever tasted."
Changbin couldn't help the soft smile he gave the hellhound. "Is that all you need to survive? Food? What about taking energy from a master?"
Seungmin shook his head, snapping out of his daydreaming. "That's not part of the bond. I cannot actively take energy. The bond gives me a trickle of life to keep me from dying. That's all." He fingered the spiked collar hanging loosely from his narrow neck.
Changbin had no reason to suspect him of lying. Well, perhaps he did. But his gut (and Minho) told him to trust the hellhound.
"And after that? After you eat and bathe? What do you want to do?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. See how else Earth is different from Hell, I guess." He licked his lips. "Last time I was here I heard about something called baseball. I'm curious about that.
This could actually work. "Well. I'd like to show you all those things. If you'd rather explore Earth with me than return to Hell, we can do that right now."
The low flames in Seungmin's eyes suddenly flared bright. "Yes. Tie me to you, human."
"My name is Ch—"
Seungmin held up a hand. "Tell me after you bind me. That is safer."
Changbin smirked, pleased. He knew that. Knew that names had power. He'd thought he could trust the hellhound, though, and hadn't minded giving him his name a few minutes earlier.
Clearly, he was right. If the hellhound was already trying to protect him.
Changbin inclined his head. "As you please. You must tell me your name, though."
The hellhound nodded and sat up straighter, gaze holding Changbin's own. "I am Seungmin."
"Seungmin," Changbin said softly, like a prayer. It was a lovely name. It felt good on his tongue.
He cleared his throat. "Seungmin, would you like me to tie you to me, so you can roam Earth by my side, tethered in the lightest way I can manage?"
The words were not part of the ritual, but Changbin felt he needed to say them.
For the first time, Seungmin's face betrayed a flash of humor. "Yes. Do it, human."
So Changbin did. Cutting his own arm (never the palm. You know how much you use your palm? There are so many spots on the body less inconvenient to draw a bit of blood from), he wrote Seungmin's name in blood in the space between them, bisecting the old summoning line.
Seungmin gasped, like a blast of fresh air had just reached him. At the same time, the spiked collar dissolved in a cloud of ash.
Lips parted slightly, eyes already brighter, Seungmin bent forward, bowing his head.
Minho had told him that he needed to fasten something around Seungmin's neck. Changbin had rummaged in his pockets and come up with nothing. Luckily, he'd worn a silver chain around his own neck—less of a fashion item than a protection against vampires and werewolves. Minho assured him silver was not harmful to demons.
So Changbin unclasped his necklace and reached across the now-defunct summoning circle line. His fingers brushed Seungmin's hair and the skin of his neck. The heat surprised him. The roughness did not.
"I, Seo Changbin, bind Seungmin the Hellhound to me. With this collar, he will obey my words, my mind, my intentions, to serve me until I release him." He spoke as he clasped the silver around Seungmin's neck. With that, the ritual was over. And yet, Changbin added another line.
"And I promise to treat him as an equal and help him find his freedom here on Earth."
Seungmin looked up at him, surprised. "Changbin," he murmured, before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell forward, slumping into Changbin's chest, unconscious.
Changbin had carried him out of there, taken him home, fed and clothed and cared for him until he'd recovered his strength.
It took one year to show Seungmin that he'd been serious about not abusing his power. It took another year to help Seungmin discover his likes and dislikes, his preferences, his hobbies.
It took another year for Seungmin to fall in love. (Changbin had gotten there in the middle of year two.) At least Seungmin hadn't kept his feelings to himself.
"Hyung," he'd said lightly. "I believe I'm in love with you. I'd like to do the boyfriend thing with you. Like Minho and Jisung. And Hyunjin and Jeongin. Like Chan and Felix. Would you do that with me?"
They'd kissed that night. And slept together the following night.
And now, Changbin and his hellhound boyfriend traipse back to their apartment, the fae securely imprisoned. Every time Seungmin sneaks a glance at him, he squeezes him tighter, his arm slung around Seungmin's narrow waist.
After they lock their apartment door behind them, they shed their jackets. Changbin wears a tank top, while Seungmin wears a T-shirt and his silver chain necklace.
Seungmin moves towards him, and Changbin tilts his head up expectantly. But Seungmin doesn't kiss him.
No, his eyes lower as he takes Changbin's forearm with gentle fingers, stroking his inner arm. Changbin follows his gaze and sees how Seungmin caresses the raised scar from their bond.
"I'm glad you did it," Seungmin says quietly. "I'm glad I'm here."
Changbin smiles and grips Seungmin's chin firmly, just how Seungmin likes it. He forces Seungmin to meet his eyes. "I've never been so happy to shed blood, puppy. It got me you, after all."
Seungmin flushes, and the flames in his eyes brighten into miniature suns. His grip tightens on Changbin's arm. "You got me, all right. Now take me."
Changbin's smile morphs into a smirk, expression darkening. "With pleasure."
With that, he throws a laughing Seungmin over his shoulder and strides confidently into their bedroom.