Soul Guardian

She had seen Bael attempt to cook before but something was different this time. He wasn’t just throwing ingredients together and hoping for the best. He was showing something that might have bordered on technique.

“Alright, feel free to throw it in the trash if it isn’t good enough.” Bael said. “I’m still new at this cooking stuff and honestly I’m not sure if I understand it. But I gave it my best shot and I hope you like it.”

“Why is the sour cream pink?” Maharet asked apprehensively. “I’ve never eaten pink sour cream before.”

“It’s spiced with sriracha and espelette.” Bael explained.

“What’s sriracha?”

“It’s a mix of chilis, garlic, distilled vinegar, sugar and salt. Originally it’s from the coastal town of Si Racha in eastern Thailand.” Bael explained. “Traditionally it is served on fish or in soup but apparently it goes really well with eggs too. A very nice lady named Thanom Chakkapak came up with the recipe.”

“When did you become the authority on hot sauce?” Maharet pressed, delaying the inevitable.

“This morning, now take a bite before it gets cold. If you let the cheese cool down and harden the whole thing will be ruined.” Bael shoved the plate towards his spouse. “Unless of course you’re saying that I can’t cook.”

“I’d never say that.” At least not out loud, Maharet thought. But there was only so much fencing she could do, she was going to have to try Bael’s technicolor omelet. She took a forkful and gave it an inquisitive sniff. It certainly smelled good. Apprehensively she took the first bite.

“I’m not sure. It seems edible.” Maharet said after a minute, not willing to admit that Bael’s omelet was fantastic. “But I think I’m gonna need ten or twenty more of these to be absolutely sure...”

“Well I’m glad that you liked it.” Bael said with a hint of pride showing through. “Say, where’s Six? She might want one too.”

“I gave her some money for sweets and told her to go play and explore the town, make some new friends.” Maharet said between delicate bites of omelet. “She knows to come back home before the streetlights turn on.”

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“Isn’t that a bit dangerous? Leaving her to roam unsupervised… she might get into trouble.” Bael was pulling a worried expression. “What if there’s a wargle loose?”

“She can fend for herself and I don’t think wargles are a thing up here.” Maharet cleaned her plate and wrapped her arms around Bael. He could feel the warmth of her through his sweater.

“Besides, I summoned Titan to keep an eye on her.” Maharet continued. “He’ll make sure nothing bad happens. Now, it’s just the two of us in this house. Neither of us have anything that needs doing...”

But Bael wasn’t willing to give up yet. “You summoned Titan?” He asked. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?”

“He’s strong, loyal and can blend in when he chooses. If he’s good enough to guard the gates of hell he’s good enough to protect our daughter.”

The flicker of a protest rose in Bael’s throat but he swallowed it down. She was right, Titan would protect Six or die trying. And he was loyal, that couldn’t be disputed.

The hell with it, Bael thought. What was the worst that could happen?

***

It was a common misconception that Cerberus the guardian of hell had three heads. The truth was a bit more complex. While she did stand almost twelve feet tall at the shoulder and spit fire she only had the normal number of heads.

(And an abnormally large amount of teeth.)

The other two belonged to her pups, Titan and Nial. Hellhounds were a-sexual and multiplied by division. When the conditions were right they would split into two smaller hellhounds and thus continued the species. By a strange quirk of infernal biology the hounds could when needed re-incorporate into one single creature to take down massive foes. But by and large they preferred to stay separate.

At first the dog sitting next to Six on the bench didn’t seem to be anything special apart from his size, which was immense. But there was the curious way that his spots seemed to move when nobody was looking and absorbed light like black holes set against a snowy backdrop.

“What kind is he?” Squeaked a little boy. Between his parka and the bobble hat pulled down tight over his ears only his eyes were showing and they were filled with wonder.

“What kind of dog would you like him to be?” Six asked.

This seemed to puzzle the boy. “He looks like a dalmatian, what with all the spots.” Awkwardly he stood up on his tippy toes to pat the dog on its head. “Who’s a good boy?”

Titan beheld the child. “GOOD AND EVIL ARE MERE CONSTRUCTS. THERE IS NO OBJECTIVE MEASURE OF GOODNESS, ONLY SUBJECTIVE CATEGORIZATIONS RELATING TO ONE’S OWN MORAL VIEWS.” He said with a voice like thunder and rocks breaking.

The boy recoiled and looked over to Six. “Did your dog just talk?”

“Everyone knows that dogs can’t talk.” Six said. “It’s a well known fact. Isn’t that right Titan?”

Titan woofed in agreement.

“See.” Six pressed. “Even he knows that dogs can’t talk.”

“Oh...” The child said. “Does he play fetch?”

Six looked at Titan like she was sizing him up. “Probably.” She said.