Marduke held her by the hand as they chased after the hounds. He didn’t worry about losing them, being connected on a level most people couldn’t achieve. Between Marduke and his hounds, they’d find the boy.

The scent of the kid led the way because someone forgot to mask it. Obviously, the person who came after the boy was new. Because only an idiot would A) ever attack the kennel, B) kidnap a child, and C) piss Marduke off.

But now add D) to the mix. They took away Merry’s smile.

How dare they?!

The trail left the first ring for the second and headed for the loud cacophony that turned out to be a parade. A Christmas one with the most garish of floats.

His dogs weren’t distracted, and as people realized the hounds were loose, the joyful cries of celebrations turned to screams, then a stampede out of the dogs’ path. Which made it easier to see the guy in the Santa suit, yanking Miguel by the arm. The boy kept digging in his heels and looking behind.

Which meant, as the crowd thinned, he noticed Marduke. Hope shone in the boy’s eyes.

Fake Santa saw him coming, too, and cuffed the kid.

“I am going to tear out your spine and beat you with it, fucker.” Marduke ran, and people dove out of his way.

Fake Santa didn’t give up. He dragged the kid into an alley.

Bad idea.

The hounds followed, and then there was much screaming. By the time they entered the alley, the dogs were carrying off bits of the damned soul.

It wouldn’t kill the guy. Not in Hell. He’d eventually be put back together so the devil could punish him again and again, the sentence now longer with the added infractions.

The boy sat huddled on the ground, knees tucked, hugging them.

Merry ran past Marduke and dropped to her knees. “Baby. Are you all right?” She palpated the kid before dragging him into her arms.

“Stop smothering him,” Marduke drawled as the boy sent him a glance that screamed, Help.

“I was so worried,” she wailed. “It’s my fault. I’m never letting him out of my sight again.”

“Calm your tits, Merry, and let the boy go before you Norman Bates him for life.”

She turned a glare on him. “Don’t you tell me how to parent.”

“I will if you’re being crazy. The boy is fine.”

“He was just kidnapped! He is not fine.”

“You’re right. He’s worried about this.”

Marduke pulled out the puppy, who yawned and worked its chops, still under the influence of the drug. But Miguel beamed and shoved away from his mother, reaching for his companion.

She pursed her lips and might have complained more if the boy hadn’t looked at her, his arms full of dog, and smiled.

Merry burst into tears.

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