The Series that Just Plain Sucks: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  Josh opened the door the rest of the way and allowed Helen to enter. She eyed Josh, whose small wounds were completely healed. My more extensive trauma—such as the sword-shaped whole in my stomach—were a few steps behind. Her eyes ran up to my shoulder. I looked down to see burned flesh through the tattered remains of my shirt.

  “How did you know it was all over or that she was hurt or where to find us?” Josh asked, the questions spilling out, one on top of another, before Helen could even open her mouth to respond.

  “Josh,” she sighed in a patronizing voice. “I keep my ear to the ground.” Helen stepped forward and gently pulled a small piece of fabric from my shoulder. I hissed in pain. “He cast sunlight on you.”

  “Then why isn't it healing?” Josh asked. “We heal from sunlight very quickly, especially with the amount of blood she's consumed.

  “Some wizards and warlocks can make the effects more concentrated, longer lasting. Sedgrave is very powerful. But I brought something that may help.”

  “What's in it?” I demanded. I wasn’t about to have someone I kinda, sorta knew lather me up with some mysterious substance.

  “Number of herbs and oils brewed together with a little magical touch. Here, smell. Good? Now sit down,” she ordered. I obeyed more out of confusion than willingness, and perched on the corner of my mattress. Helen handed the small jar to Josh and began carefully prying away the charred fabric from my flesh. “It includes aloe vera, of course, green tea, calendula, plantain, and witch hazel,” she added. I got the impression she was telling me this, not for my own edification, but to help distract me from the work she was doing. I felt grateful. Though her fingers were cold and gentle, each piece of fabric removed constituted a new experiment in torture. I felt an unfamiliar urge to turn around and rip her head off. Was this how it always felt to be a vampire? If so, I wasn't sure I was cut out for it.

  These musings felt familiar. Had I debated this with myself before?

  Finally, she smeared the magical salve across my shoulder, down my arm, and across my collarbone. I sighed. The salve instantly relieved the pain and sunk deep into the burned tissue. Before I could truly appreciate the relief, Josh stepped in and began covering the burned area with bandages. Though the salve was still dulling the pain, it couldn't keep Josh's rough hands from bringing back old, painful sensations. I held my breath as he secured the last of the bandaging. Even without a shirt, I looked more like a mummy than a person; nearly every square inch of my upper body was covered in bandages.

  “Apply the salve every time you change her bandages, and let me know if the burn gets any worse,” Helen said by way of parting and headed for the door.

  “Wait,” exclaimed Josh as he reached for her arm. Just before his fingers touched her sleeve, he seemed to recall who she was and withdrew his hand. “Do you know anything about why Ashley would have lost her memory after the ritual?”

  Helen smiled, as though Josh's statement had put the puzzle pieces together for her. Her eyes darted to where I sat on the bed and back to Josh. “I couldn't tell you. I wasn't at the ritual.”

  “No, but you knew when it went down and when it was finished.”

  “So I did. I don't know why she lost her memories. Or why she's even alive for that matter. But trust me when I say Ashley will be key in the weeks and months ahead.”

  With this final, ominous statement, Helen slipped out of my apartment. Josh followed her to the door and pushed my dresser across the entrance. The deadbolt was broken and unlikely to do any good if someone came visiting. Just as Josh finished adjusting the dresser, a ghostly image of a small fluffy terrier burst through the bottom drawer. It yipped playfully as it trotted around my tiny apartment, sniffing different pieces of furniture. Muffler hissed and spat at the dog—the flecks of spittle going straight through the transparent image—before jumping up onto the bed. He growled deep in his chest and glared down at the dog, who seemed completely oblivious to Muffler's angry complaints.

  “Ah!” I howled, as I pulled my feet up onto the bed, as though the dog had been a giant spider. “What is that?”

  “You don't remember the dog at the graveyard?”

  “I don't even remember the graveyard.”

  Josh spent the next few minutes describing our trip to the graveyard. Half way through his story, images of the dark evening began to return to me. “So the dog's been following me around ever since.”

  A smile pulled on my lips. Despite everything that had happened—whether I remembered it or not—I couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Josh being haunted by a dog. Though I only had a few detailed memories of Josh, a feeling of friendship and camaraderie surrounded me when I thought of him. I knew instinctively just how annoyed he'd be with his present situation.

  “Damn yapping dog,” he complained as he swung his foot through the dog's image. I chuckled at his failure to vent his frustration. It felt good to laugh, as though, for that brief moment, I wasn't completely lost and clueless. “You should get some rest,” Josh added when he noticed my smile fade.

  I nodded slowly as I crawled to the head of the bed and climbed under the bloodstained blankets. “Whaboutyou?” I slurred, my eyelids drooping despite my effort to stay awake.

  “I'll stand guard. Someone has to. We don't know when Sedgrave might attack again.”

  Too true, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

  It wasn’t really an end. More like a very gory beginning.

  Continue reading for the next book…

  Sucked Away

  Chapter One

  I woke with the knowledge that I hadn't been unconscious for long. I was in my tiny apartment, my gray cat sitting next to me on my bed. I could feel his purr vibrating my arm. I groaned; my burned shoulder, gashed throat, shredded back, and gouged stomach all singing out their own misery. I barely even noticed the discomfort of my wrists where they had been chafed by rope. Something was shifting my body in a way that made the wounds scream out. I inhaled sharply and forced my eyes open.

  A face I knew, but couldn't name, leaned over me, his hands working to bandage my stomach. He paused when he saw that I was awake. I stared into his green eyes, recognition slowly taking place. He was one of the vampires that had tried to sacrifice me. Before he could tie me up again, I bolted off the bed, colliding with a gray-haired man carrying a large, green cooler. I couldn't name him either, but something about him was familiar.

  Before I could make it to the damaged doorway, a pair of hands grabbed me and spun me around. It was Josh. I couldn't forget him. He was my only friend in this world. My body started to shake—a mixture of fear, exhaustion, confusion, and thirst.

  “Sssshhhh… sssshhh,” he whispered as he pulled me to his chest, and wrapped his arms around me.

  I laid my head on his shoulder.

  “It's okay, Ashley. You're safe.”

  “We need to bandage her wounds,” the green-eyed man said over the sound of something dripping on the floor near my feet.

  The sound of his voice sent new waves of panic through my body. I cried out and tried to pull away from Josh.

  “What's wrong with her?” asked the strange man.

  Again, the man's voice made me try to bolt from the room. Josh held tight to me, keeping me from leaving the small apartment.

  “I don't know, but she's scared of you. You need to leave.”

  “What?” he asked, his voice tinted with confusion. “Ashley, what's wrong? You know me.”

  I didn't know him. And I didn't know how he knew my name. The intimacy of his words scared me even more. In an effort to free myself from Josh's grasp, I jerked in the other direction. It surprised him enough that he loosened his grip. The momentum sent me to the floor. I skidded under the computer desk and pulled my knees up under my chin.

  The green-eyed man knelt down to look at me. I huddled tightly, wrapping my arms around my knees, and tried to disappear into the dark corner. The man looked at me, pity making him look soft and friendly, but I di
dn't trust those gentle eyes. How could I, after what he had done to me?

  “Nik, back away,” ordered Josh.

  The green-eyed man, Nik, obeyed with a heated glare directed at Josh. Josh took his place beside the leg of my protective desk.

  “Make them leave,” I whispered, my eyes pricking with tears.

  Josh nodded.

  “Everyone out,” he ordered.

  The man with the cooler set it down and left without asking a question. Nik hesitated. Before Josh could insist, a new pair of legs appeared from the doorway—I couldn't see the face of the newcomer, hidden as I was under the table.

  “Where is she?”

  I knew that voice. Again, I couldn't recollect a name, but I knew he was powerful. I had an image of him tearing someone's head off. A shudder ran through my battered body. Josh must have pointed at the desk, because a moment later the powerful man knelt down to look at me.

  “She's still bleeding.”

  I glanced down and saw that I was indeed sitting in a growing puddle of blood.

  “I think we have bigger problems right now, Mikhail,” Josh said in a deferential tone. “She doesn't seem to remember much, including Samuel, Nik, or you. She's freaked out. It may be best if you two leave.”

  “But she remembers you?”

  There was a pause where I assume Josh nodded.

  “She seemed to remember us before, during the attack.”

  “I don't know, but I'm the only one she trusts right now. Hasn't she been through enough?” demanded Josh in a voice that was slowly growing more aggressive.

  “Right. C'mon Nik. Call us, Josh, if you need help. We have guards in place.”

  Nik and Mikhail left, closing the door behind them. After a second, Josh knelt down to look at me. He didn't ask me to crawl out of my hole, which I was very grateful for. Instead, he dragged the green cooler across the floor and opened it. From within, he withdrew a blood bag and slid it toward me. It bumped against my toes, sloshing quietly.

  Without taking my eyes off him, I lifted it to my lips. I must have blacked out or something, because the next thing I knew, the ground around me was littered with blood bags, some of them even floating in the pool of blood surrounding me. I felt a little better, though my skin crawled with general filth, and my shoulder still burned.

  “Ready to come out now?” Josh asked from his perch next to the empty cooler. I noticed he had consumed a few blood bags himself. I glanced around, making sure no one had returned during my little binge. The room was empty. I scooted toward the opening, leaving a trail behind me, but stopped at the edge.

  “What happened?”

  “They raised Sedgrave, but you didn't die. Do you remember the sacrifice?”

  I stopped to think about it. I remembered it. I remembered it happened many different times in many different ways. My eyes started to burn again. I nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you remember me.”

  I nodded again.

  “But not Nik?”

  I thought about it. A few images came to me. Him crouching to defend me, a few words of ridicule, him lighting a tree on fire, him standing in a Civil War movie. No, that wasn't right.

  “Maybe,” I hedged.

  I didn't want Josh to know just how close I was to a complete breakdown. Surely he didn't need to know that I couldn't remember how I had become a vampire, or what my parents looked like, or if I'd gone to college. I knew him and that the gray lump of fur staring at me was a fae, but that was about it.

  “You don't remember Nik or Mikhail?” Josh asked hesitantly.

  I shook my head.

  “Can you tell me what you do remember?”

  I swallowed the tennis ball that had somehow lodged itself in my throat. “Um… ”

  “Just tell me anything you feel certain about. Who am I?” he asked when I didn't respond.

  “Josh. You are my friend. You… you found me when I was in trouble, but I don't remember why I was in trouble.”

  Josh smiled and nodded. “What else?”

  “Is the cat a… a fae?” I asked, the word sounding wrong to my ears.

  He laughed. “Yes.”

  “What's wrong with her?” another voice asked.

  I glanced around frantically, wondering if someone had slipped back into the apartment. Josh pointed at the gray cat, who was staring at me.

  “The cat is a fae, so he can talk.”

  I nodded slowly, taking in what he said.

  “What else do you remember?” Josh prompted.

  “This is my home.”

  Josh nodded.

  But that was it. I couldn't recall anything else. For a few fleeting moments, I saw glimpses, but they seemed more like windows into someone else's life. I couldn't claim them as my own. I felt hot needles pricking my eyes. I blinked furiously, only to feel moisture roll down my cheeks.

  Josh nodded slowly. “Maybe Periphetes will know something about this. We'll find a way to get your memories back,” he insisted as he extended a hand to help me up.

  I nodded and took his proffered hand.

  “For now, let's get you cleaned up.”

  Before we could move toward the edge of my bed, a soft knock sounded on my thin door. Josh looked at me a moment before waving me to the bathroom—not that my toilet would be much of a defense against anything we'd faced thus far tonight. Nonetheless, I obeyed. He stepped up to the door and spoke.

  “Who is it?”

  “She's hurt,” stated a familiar female voice from the other side. It sounded aged, yet playful.

  Josh cracked the door open and peered through the narrow slit. From where I stood in the bathroom doorway, I could see a shocking head of white hair. I wracked my brain, trying to remember who this woman was. Josh glanced over his shoulder at me. Evidently my face showed my confusion.

  “It's okay, Ashley. It's Helen, the wizard who helped us figure out that Richard was after daywalkers.”

  My brain worked slowly as I pieced his words together. The idea of this white-haired woman being a wizard seemed right, felt right. But who was Richard? I got an image of a powerful, yet portly, man waddling around me and causing me pain. Slowly, Josh's statement made sense. I nodded with more confidence.

  Josh opened the door the rest of the way and allowed Helen to enter. She eyed Josh, whose small wounds were completely healed. My more extensive trauma—including the sword-shaped whole in my stomach—were a few steps behind. Her eyes ran up to my shoulder. I looked down to see burned flesh through the tattered remains of my shirt.

  “How did you know it was all over, or that she was hurt, or where to find us?” Josh asked, the questions spilling out, one on top of another, before Helen could even open her mouth to respond.

  “Josh,” she sighed in a patronizing voice. “I keep my ear to the ground.”

  Helen stepped forward and gently pulled a small piece of fabric from my shoulder. I hissed in pain.

  “He cast sunlight on you.”

  “Then why isn't it healing?” Josh asked. “We heal from sunlight very quickly, especially with the amount of blood she's consumed.

  “Some wizards and warlocks can make the effects more concentrated, longer lasting. Sedgrave is very powerful, but I brought something that may help.”

  “What's in it?” I demanded. I wasn’t about to have someone I kinda, sorta knew lather me up with some mysterious substance.

  “A number of herbs and oils brewed together with a little magical touch. Here, smell. Good? Now sit down,” she ordered.

  I obeyed more out of confusion than willingness, and perched on the corner of my mattress. Helen handed the small jar to Josh and began carefully prying away the charred fabric from my flesh.

  “It includes aloe vera, of course, green tea, calendula, plantain, and witch hazel,” she added.

  I got the impression she was telling me this, not for my own edification, but to help distract me from the work she was doing. I felt grateful. Though her fingers were cold and gentle, e
ach piece of fabric removed constituted a new experiment in torture. I felt an unfamiliar urge to turn around and rip her head off. Was this how it always felt to be a vampire? If so, I wasn't sure I was cut out for it.

  These musings felt familiar. Had I debated this with myself before?

  Finally, she smeared the magical salve across my shoulder, down my arm, and across my collarbone. I sighed. The salve instantly relieved the pain and sunk deep into the burned tissue. Before I could truly appreciate the relief, Josh stepped in and began covering the burned area with bandages. Though the salve was still dulling the pain, it couldn't keep Josh's rough hands from bringing back old, painful sensations. I held my breath as he secured the last of the bandaging. Even without a shirt, I looked more like a mummy than a person; nearly every square inch of my upper body was covered in bandages.

  “Apply the salve every time you change her bandages, and let me know if the burn gets any worse,” Helen said by way of parting and headed for the door.

  “Wait,” exclaimed Josh as he reached for her arm. Just before his fingers touched her sleeve, he seemed to recall who she was and withdrew his hand. “Do you know anything about why Ashley would have lost her memory after the ritual?”

  Helen smiled, as though Josh's statement had put the puzzle pieces together for her. Her eyes darted to where I sat on the bed and back to Josh.

  “I couldn't tell you. I wasn't at the ritual.”

  “No, but you knew when it went down and when it was finished.”

  “So I did. I don't know why she lost her memories. Or why she's even alive for that matter. But trust me when I say, Ashley will be key in the weeks and months ahead.”

  With this final, ominous statement, Helen slipped out of my apartment. Josh followed her to the door and pushed my dresser across the entrance. The deadbolt was broken and unlikely to do any good if someone came visiting. Just as Josh finished adjusting the dresser, a ghostly image of a small, fluffy terrier burst through the bottom drawer. It yipped playfully as it trotted around my tiny apartment, sniffing different pieces of furniture. Muffler hissed and spat at the dog—the flecks of spittle going straight through the transparent image—before jumping up onto the bed. He growled deep in his chest and glared down at the dog, who seemed completely oblivious to Muffler's angry complaints.