Ricochet Joe

7 HOUND OF THE HOUND

The dog lay in the corner on her bed, by all appearances a dog and nothing more, except that her head remained raised and her ears slightly lifted throughout Joe and Portia’s conversation.

Joe paced, excited and restless and ecstatic and afraid, while Portia, who had never touched her mug of spiked coffee, sipped brandy straight from a snifter as she counseled him.

“Seeker doesn’t control us like Parasite controls its puppets. She gives us the confidence to be as brave, quick, and competent as we have the potential to be. But in the end, she does not force us to join in the chase… or to pull the trigger.”

“How long have you been… caught up in this?”

“The parasite moves often. We think it came here seven years ago. Seeker homed in on Little City four years ago. Parasite has been damn hard to find, and it’s changed bodies several times.”

“How was I chosen?” Joe wondered.

“I don’t know—other than your innocent heart. Because of your special role, you have to have an innocent heart.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“That’s up to Seeker. As for the rest of us, no one knows why she chose us to help her. Anyway, she gave you that tracking skill, and you ricocheted through town. Neither fear nor disbelief stopped you from using it. And you had better control on the second chase. She was right to choose you for a paladin.”

The dog made a low pleasant sound more purr than grumble.

“Why doesn’t she enter a more ferocious dog than a golden retriever,” Joe wondered, “something with big jaws and bigger teeth, and then go after the parasite herself?”

“By senses we don’t possess, it’ll detect her when she’s still blocks away. Before she can get there, it’s gone. She always needs a knight like you, someone Parasite isn’t likely to suspect.”

He thrilled at hearing Portia call him a knight. Nevertheless, the ordinary Joe whom he had been still lived in him; he remained prudent. “So I’m like the hound of the hound.” He wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer, but he had to ask, “What are the chances that I come out of this alive?”

“If you find the thing—and you will—when you’re alone with it, don’t turn your back. Never turn your back alone with it. Never, Joey. When you’ve identified it, kill it at once.”

“Yeah. But how do I identify it?”

“You’ve been given the vision to see the hidden form of it. Just for God’s sake, don’t get within arm’s reach of it. And, Joey, I can’t stress enough… don’t hesitate to kill it. Act at once.”

“It can die? It lives thousands of years, but it can die?”

“The host will die. Parasite has to come out of the host to find another—which might be you. It can’t stay in a dead thing more than a few minutes. When it exits, you’ll know it. And yes, you can kill it. Though it’s… hardy.”

She put down the brandy and came to him and put her arms around him and held him tight, her head against his chest, as if she were listening to his heart.

Being hugged by Portia felt good, felt wonderful. Somewhat awkwardly, he put his arms around her, and that felt even better.

Best of all, she kissed him. The kiss was long and warm and deep. By the end of it, Joe felt a little drunk, though not because of the residue of brandy in her mouth.

Another question occurred to him. “Uh… how do I kill it?”

She took her smartphone from the table and speed-dialed the chief. “Daddy, he’s ready.”