LegionBorn_An Urban Fantasy Tale

by F. F. John

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  --I--

  --II--

  --III--

  --IV--

  --V--

  --VI--

  --VII--

  --VIII--

  --IX--

  --X--

  --XI--

  --XII--

  --XIII--

  --XIV--

  --XV--

  --XVI--

  --XVII--

  --XVIII--

  --XIX--

  --XX--

  --XXI--

  --XXII--

  --XXIII--

  --XXIV--

  --XXV--

  --XXVI--

  Author’s Note

  Want Free Books?

  Copyright

  About The Author

  Books

  LEGIONBORN

  by

  F. F. JOHN

  To all the creators out there.

  --I--

  HAD SOMEONE TOLD ME I’D celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday blowing through thousands in the most powerful city in the world, I would have laughed. Then, I would have used some choice curse words on the bearer of such news. Only the best cursing would do for such a person.

  And for good reason. I grew up in St. Mary’s Home for Orphaned Boys on a street with pavement cracked wide enough to twist your ankle. Looking out my windows, all I saw were boarded up buildings and crack heads in my little section of Baltimore. The orphanage head, Sister Magdalene, said the best I’d ever be was a jailbird. And that was on her good days. If she’d had enough Communion wine, she’d tell me I’d end up dead on the streets.

  Luckily, someone else at the orphanage told me to “dream big and aspire for more”. Sister Patricia would whisper those words after every uninspiring interaction with Sister Magdalene. It was a sad day when she was transferred. Sister Patti is long gone now, but if she’d never planted that seed in my head, who knows where I’d be.

  “To Sister Patti!” I lifted my tequila shot in the air with too much exuberance. I wasted a sliver of clear, premium liquor, watching it slosh down the side of my glass. I would never have thought I’d drink something so expensive, much less of pay for it myself.

  My companions wasted no time in raising their glasses. “Good old, Sister Patti!” Antonio’s words slurred. I’d known him my whole life, and he’d never been able to hold his liquor. Sometimes irritating but he was one of my best friends and many deficits in his character got overlooked for that alone. Besides, it was almost midnight, and we’d been celebrating my birthday since eight o’clock. Over three hours of alcohol and not enough food to soak it. Antonio was wasted.

  “Remember how she’d sneak us Klondike bars on our birthdays?” Lucas shook his head with a rueful smile. Lucas—my other best friend—also remembered Sister Patti fondly.

  Antonio Duran, Lucas Han and me, Vaughn Prentiss, met at the orphanage and over time, we became more than friends. Forced to endure some tough situations, we became brothers. We planned our entire life together and so far, have stayed on track.

  Get out of St. Mary’s? Check.

  Graduate from high school? Check.

  Get into a good college? Check.

  Go to law school? Check.

  We even ended up at the same firm—an almost improbable feat. Yet, we did it and we were each blazing a trail for ourselves in D.C.’s congested legal society.

  Having washed down the liquid fire, our faces contorted into grimaces. Struggling through a particularly deep squint, I saw that Lucas’s narrow eyes were made even thinner and his round cheeks pulled forward around his tight mouth. Antonio clamped his honey-brown eyes shut as tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “Damn it, Antonio.” The words struggled past my liquor-burned esophagus. “Are you crying?”

  Lucas widened one eye and guffawed. “Grow some balls! Be a man!”

  “Whatever! Your entire face will be purple tomorrow. You have no room to talk.” Antonio growled, wiping his cheeks with the back of a hand while glaring at Lucas.

  “Actually, my face will be red.” Lucas gave a negligent shrug. “Blame my genetics …” he paused to breathe, “I am Asian, after all. And yet, I can handle my alcohol.” He snorted. “Remember when you pissed over the railing in Cancun? That family— “

  “Fuck you, asshole!” Antonio shoved his empty shot glass away from him and it toppled into other glassware with a loud clank. “It was spring break and you’re the one who kept giving me shots.”

  “Calm down, Ant.” I placed a consoling hand on my friend’s shoulder. “He’s just messing with you, dude.”

  With a strong shrug, he freed himself of my hand letting it drop to my side. “Whatever, Mr. I’m-going-to-make-partner-before-everybody.”

  His brows furrowed, and he pouted, looking exactly as he did when we were kids. He’d never liked being teased. I laughed. Drunk Antonio always managed to swing from mood to mood. I never took him seriously when he got like this.

  “Your grumpy attitude wouldn’t have anything to do with Sophia, would it?”

  On my left, Lucas chuckled, smacking the table. It was heavy with an assortment of alcohol.

  It took a few seconds, but soon enough Antonio’s chortling with us.

  “Sofia dumped me. Said I curse too much. Among other things.” Rubbing his forehead, he added, sounding sheepish, “I’m fucked up, ain’t I?”

  “Yes,” Lucas and I said in unison.

  “If you don’t have any meetings, you might want to go in late tomorrow,” Lucas said to him. “I’m calling in sick. How about you, Vaughn?”

  Antonio didn’t let me respond, saying, “This fool will be at work bright and early.”

  “I don’t have a choice if I’m going to fast track to partner in four years instead of seven,” I grabbed a chilled bottle of water. “Two years down, two more to go.”

  Antonio grumbled. “You’re such an over-achiever.”

  “Leave him alone, Ant.” Lucas waved a hand. He poured himself some more tequila and was left grimacing once again when it touched his tongue.

  “If I didn’t have to go in, I’d stay home but I don’t want to piss off the Hitman this close to the West Africa trip. He could change his mind and take someone else.” The Hitman was my nickname for Kevin Watson, my boss. It was the first image that came to mind when I met him. His black, tailored suit, thin tie, swept back hair and the slight frown made him look like a bad ass. There was also his undeniable drive to win. Every argument, every case, every negotiation. He pushed himself and those who worked with him to produce results. “If I help land this new client, that opens the road to— “

  “Partnership,” Lucas said, lifting his tequila. “And we want that for you, brother.” Antonio rolled his eyes but poured himself some more alcohol and knocked it back.

  Becoming the youngest partner at Cunningham, Trotter & Severn became my dream the moment I walked into the building. I had no doubt I wanted my picture on the Partner Wall. When I become partner, I’ll also be the first black partner in the firm’s history.

  And I wanted to do it in half the time. They tell new lawyers they might make partner in eight to ten years, if ever. My goal was to get partnership done in five years, tops. I’d won every case and brought in lots of high-rolling clients for the firm. Watson said I have a good shot of making partner given my track record. With two more years to make my goal, I had no time to waste.

  “Let’s get out of here, guys.” I pulled myself to my feet. Searching the packed lounge, I signaled our waitress to close our tab. “It’s been a while since I’ve strolled through Adams Morgan. I want to see what’s new in the neighborhood.”

>   ***

  No more than ten steps on the gum-smeared sidewalk and Antonio picked up his pace, leaving us behind.

  “Dude, slow down. Where the hell are you going?” Lucas called out.

  Antonio pointed at a dove gray sign across the street. It was one of those folding ones that sat on four little legs with a message on either side. I had to narrow my eyes to read the small letters under the glare of a streetlight, Tarot Card Reader. Discover what the future holds. Open 24 hours.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I jogged up to him and wrapped my hand around his forearm. “I’m not going to let you waste a dime on that shit.”

  Not paying attention, and slightly intoxicated, I maneuvered us into two guys, breaking their hands apart. After a slew of apologies, I pulled Antonio toward Lucas.

  Antonio yanked his hand free and placed a foot above the tarred street. “What the hell are you doing?” I grabbed him again. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” For the first time, I questioned whether we should have let him drink so much.

  “Why are we doing this?” Lucas asked as we arrived at the glass door. He cracked his knuckles as his eyes flitted past Antonio to peer into the room beyond.

  “You’re not scared, are you?”

  “I’m with Lucas on this one,” I said. “What do you gain from this shit?”

  “Both of you need to man up.” Antonio cuts us a glassy-eyed glare. “It’s nothing but a little card reading. Nothing compared to some of the Santeria rituals I went to as a child. Now those were gory.” Antonio’s eyes hardened despite his inebriated state. Prior to St. Mary’s, he’d lived with his Puerto Rican grandmother and she’d been a practitioner of Santeria. When she died, he’d bounced around in the foster care system before coming to the orphanage.

  As his hand reached the door handle, I used the flat of my palm to hold it closed. There was a strange tingling at the back of my neck. “I don’t feel good about this.”

  “Punk ass! You’re afraid to hear what the future holds for you.” Antonio slapped my hand out of the way and yanked the door open.

  I scoffed. “As if she actually could. It’s all a scam.”

  “Stop being a wuss and come on!” Antonio stepped in followed by Lucas then me, but only after I doused the sense of foreboding growing in the pit of my stomach.

  Hidden chimes clanked into one another announcing our entry. I was hit with the odd combination of scents. There was bleach, something floral—maybe roses—and a sweet smell. Whatever that smell was had me taking shallow breaths for a few seconds to get used to it.

  An assortment of lit red candles were staged around the rectangular room. Empty orange, plastic chairs lined a seafoam green wall creating a waiting-room, while a cloth-covered table featuring a black skull, a deck of cards, a blue bottle and several candles, waited patiently for the card reader and her customer to arrive. Directly behind this was a door flanked by a curtain of gently swaying black beads.

  “See, there’s nobody here. Let’s go,” I said, feeling relieved. I wasn’t sure if it was the high dose of Catholic upbringing, but I’d never been a fan of the supernatural.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes,” Antonio insisted, walking over to the table and picking up the skull with both hands. My heart leaped into my throat as he tossed the object from palm to palm. Should he do that?

  Rather than caution him to stop playing with the skull, I said, “Why? Shouldn’t a good Catholic boy like you be averse to this?”

  “Have you met me? I’m a heathen!” The skull slipped out of Antonio’s fingers, smacking into the table and rolling off. That’s got to be a bad omen. Luckily, he caught the object before it hit the floor and returned it.

  “Come on, let’s take a seat.” Lucas wrapped an arm around both our shoulders. “I bet we’re going to see a sweet old lady who’s been in D.C. since it was an actual swamp.” He chuckled. “If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”

  After a dissatisfied grunt, I said, “She’s probably fast asleep.”

  “Hold your horses, boy.” A raspy voice thudded against my eardrums, giving me a start. I’d guess the speaker smoked several packs a day. “I’ll be right there.” The accent had just enough of a twang to make me wonder what part of the South she was from.

  The beads clinked together as they split down the middle and a little lady strutted out. Silver curls cascaded down her chest, reaching her waist. The hem of her beige dress cut off at her calves.

  “I’m Layla Barrow. How can I help you this evening?’

  My gaze flicked to her face, and I gasped. Both her eyes were a milky white with no irises evident. She was…

  “Blind,” she said, as though she’d read my mind. Squinting, I studied her eyes further. While lacking color, they maintained an otherworldly intelligence that made me even more uncomfortable. “All right, then,” she said rubbing her hands together. “I’m an old lady and if you don’t mind, I have things to do, so set your hiney down so we can get to reading.”

  Antonio bounced over to a plastic seat at the table. He was lowering himself when the woman’s head jerked up and she stared my way.

  “You!” A leathered finger pointed at me before flipping over to hook in a beckoning gesture. “Come closer.”

  My arms and legs went numb as I stared into those eyes of hers.

  “Vaughn,” Lucas whispered. “It’s okay. Go.” He planted a palm between my shoulder blades and got me moving with a good shove.

  I’d barely reached the table before the woman grabbed my right hand and pulled me into her, placing us mere inches apart. Her eyes bore into mine and my breath hitched with a squeak. For the first time in my life, it seemed someone saw through me and it made me want to break contact. I tried, but the old bird had a tight grip.

  “What your mammy name is?” she barked, grasping my hand with both her claws. Her nails digging into my skin.

  “I…I…” My stammer added to my discomfort and embarrassment. I hadn’t stammered since high school, having worked hard with videos I found on the internet to get rid of that trait. Control yourself, I ordered and took a long inhale before continuing, “I don’t know.”

  “What you mean?”

  People have no idea how rude that question is. They couldn’t fathom that someone wouldn’t know their parents. Orphans like me knew that reality. The skin around my neck warmed, and I struggled to tamp down my irritation.

  “Just what I said. I don’t know,” I said, sounding stronger.

  “Your pappy, then? You gotta know your pappy?” Her voice was flatter than before.

  I let out a sharp sigh. “No.” Blindie here just doesn’t get it.

  Her face pulled into a deep-set frown, accentuating the lines around her eyes and mouth. “Well, come here…” She let go of my hands and her claws came toward my neck making me flinch. I calmed when I realized she wasn’t going for my jugular. Instead, her cold, weathered palms clamped down on my cheeks and without warning, an electric current cooked my insides. My gaze traveled to her hands, covered in brown spots and growths that reminded me of Sister Magdalene’s. My breath hitched.

  “Sweet grits on a biscuit!” she yelped taking a step back as if she’d been scalded.

  A strangled cry fell from my lips and I leaped as far away as I could. “What the hell?”

  “Watch your tongue, boy. There’ll be none of that gutter talk in my fine establishment.”

  Fine establishment? A quick glance around confirmed she was nuts. Her walls were covered in a yellow and green paper and her worn parquet floors had pieces missing. Like they’d been gnawed on by some wood-eating creature.

  “Damn it! What the fuck did you just do to me?” I asked, rubbing viciously at the goose bumps on my arms.

  “I won’t warn you about your language again.” Layla shuffled through the beaded passageway and disappeared.

  “Whoa, are you okay?” Lucas ambled up to me. “What happened?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to
find out.” I massaged the back of my neck. “She zapped me with something.”

  “Zapped?” Antonio said then adjusted himself to be more comfortable in his orange chair. “This is great entertainment.”

  Seeing Antonio would be no help, I turned a pleading gaze on Lucas. “This woman is weird, and I want to get out of here.”

  “Is today your birthday?” Lucas and I spun around with a jolt. We hadn’t noticed Layla reenter the room.

  Realizing I didn’t want to tell this lady anything about me, I clenched my jaw. Of course, Antonio wasn’t so compelled and said, “Yup. He’s twenty-five today.” His voice was chipper as I groaned in irritation.

  She rubbed her chin. “Your vibration…it’s young but there’s something about it.” She clamped her eyes shut. “I need to know more if I’m gonna help you with what’s coming.”

  “What does that mean?” The question popped out of my mouth unbidden and I chastised myself for falling prey to her schemes. Clearly, she wanted to convince me she knew something. That way, she’d entice me into spending money. I’d seen a report on the local news. I knew this was a tactic used by those in her professed trade.

  Getting a hold of myself, I waved my hands in front of me. “I’m out of here.” I whirled toward Antonio, who looked on amused. “This is your fault. I told you I didn’t want to come here.” As soon as my hand touched the brass doorknob, there was a low chuckle.

  “You’ll be back before the night is through, boy. And by then, you’ll know. You’ll get a taste of what wants you!”

  --II--

  I’D BEEN THE BUTT OF Antonio’s jokes for the last ten minutes. The insults were the least of my worries. Rather, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last few words that woman said to me.

  “You okay?” Lucas asked, his voice low. His brows were high on his forehead and his mouth was twisted to the side. As I’d known him since we were kids, that last bit was a sure sign he wasn’t at ease. It was also the reason why I’d never partner with him in a game of charades.

  Not wanting to worry him further, I drove my hands into my pockets and shrugged, putting on an air of nonchalance. “I’m fine.”