Under Lock and Key

Running.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

I sprinted over the hard stones, stirring dirt from their surface as I breezed over them. I let my arms fly out behind me. Swinging them as I went would be pointless. They were of no use to me now. My body bent a bit at the waist, so that my shoulders, neck, and head fell forward, allowing for better balance as I flew over the uneven stones.

Humid, torrid air whipped around my face and mingled with the dust my feet kicked up, sweeping the particles into my eyes and making them sting. I ground my teeth together, resisting the urge to cry out or even pant. I made as little of my own noise as possible.

I merely ran.
And listened.

I strained my ears to catch the slightest noise. Somewhere off to the right, I heard the sharp hiss of steam radiating up from a hole in the ground. To the left, I heard a grown man howl out in pain. The kind of howl that only comes from a man having his soul ripped to shreds. A noise terrifying enough to frighten a grown man into going to church every Sunday.

Neither of these were the noise I was listening for.
In fact, both were common, everyday noises in Hell.

I abandoned my intensified listening as I rounded a bend in the divet I was running in and glimpsed an enormous rock laying across it, blocking my route. I let out a huff of air through pursed lips as I dropped deftly into a crouch, springing up a moment later and throwing my legs forward, disconnecting from the ground. I flew over the mound of rock with ease, reveling in the brief moment of weightlessness I felt. With a sharp thump I landed on the opposite side of the boulder, my knees bending to kiss the stone beneath them and my left hand coming forward and meeting the ground for extra balance.

Straightening slowly, I re-engaged my fine-tuned listening, concentrating on locating the noise of my pursuer. At first, I heard nothing.
Nothing but more screams.
More hissing.

And then I heard it.
A clamoring, tumultuous barking. Coming nearer and nearer.

I spun on me heel, my long, dark locks whipping around with the movement and catching me across the face. I felt my entire body tense as my golden eyes studied the boulder intensely.

The barking stopped.
I held my breath.
They can’t have stopped. They never just stop.
My eyes began to hurt from staring at the rough, grey stone.

Thunk

I jumped back from the boulder, my body recoiling like a spring. I fought the urge to let out a cry.

Another loud thud sounded as another one of the ferocious animals slammed itself against the boulder. And another.

A large crack began to form. It started at the bottom and worked its way up the grey, porous surface each time another blow was delivered. As I watched the boulder shake, the line worked its way halfway up.

Another heavy blow would crack it.
I knew this well.

I listened for the final thud.

The animal on the other side let out a pained yelp. I turned on me heel and prepared to take off along the divet as I heard the sickening crunch of the boulder splitting in two. It reminded me of human bones breaking in two.

I shook my head to clear it and looked ahead down the divet.
I felt my adrenaline drop.

It was a dead end. I had fallen into a perfectly planned trap.

Damn it.

I heard the soft sound of claws scratching against the stone and low, snuffling noises as the beasts moved closer, sniffing the air.
Enjoying the scent of their winning.

A single round of applause rang out somewhere off to my right. I spun in that direction and came face to face with a ravine wall of brimstone. I craned my neck upward, scowling as I did.

“Bravo, darling.” A voice called out sarcastically from atop the ravine.

“You actually made it to the trap this time.”

There came a brief scuffling of shoes from high above me, then a soft whoosh followed by intense heat near my left side. I tried to resist the urge to roll my eyes as I turned toward the heat.

I came face to face with Crowley. His large, round eyes flicked black for just a moment before returning to their usual brown, taking on a less demonic look. He raised a dark eyebrow and inclined his dark haired head, motioning in the direction of the animals.

“You should consider yourself lucky I fed them first this time.” His light, lilting Yorkshire accent made the statement seem all the more demeaning.

I nodded once, consenting. I had to.
Crowley was my mentor. He had taken me in. Taught me how to fight. How to be violent and cruel. He had molded me into the black, soulless, unsatisfied demon I needed to be to survive down here.

I hadn’t always had a mentor. I hadn’t always been a demon. But I had come to live and study under Crowley nearly three years ago. After I had cut that deal with the head torturer…

A low whine broke my revelry, and I whirled around, coming face to face with a large, wolf-like black dog. He towered over me, his red eyes boring down into mine, daring me to hold his gaze. A large string of dirty drool hung from the left side of his mouth and he attempted to lean closer, the tip of his nose wriggling as he enjoyed my scent.

“Eros. No’n.” Crowley commanded the beast.

The large animal whined pitifully, but backed away, consenting to his master as he was supposed to. He backed a few steps before turning and joining the three other large beasts that made up Crowley’s small pack of Hellhounds.

“Now then,” he crossed his arms and glared down at me, “would you like to tell me what exactly happened?”

I squirmed a bit under his imperious gaze, looking down at his black, leather shoes.
Wondering about the human he had killed to get them.

“You were going along swimmingly until you took the wrong divet at the fork. Where is your mind lately, ‘Ella?”

My eyes flicked to a black as I searched the recesses of my mind for a satisfactory answer.
But I had none.
I couldn’t explain to him the reason why I was failing simple training routines such as this.
I couldn’t explain my growing anxiety as each hour of the day dragged on.
Or why I always felt anxious, somewhere in the back of my mind.

I had no explanation for these changes.
Or what they might mean.