Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “Whaddya need that for?” I slur, then burst into another fit of giggles.

  “I’m puttin’ your hair up. Hiding your stash!” She stands beside me and starts running her slim fingers through my hair.

  “Mm.” My head falls back. “That feels good.”

  Trixie’s fingers work magic against my scalp. My eyelids flutter then close.

  Creeper laughs and mutters, “I’m so filming this.”

  I smile as my hair is stretched away from my scalp. I don’t know what Trixie is doing, and I don’t care, just as long as she keeps doing it. Before long, my head falls to the side, and I drift off to sleep.

  ‘CAUSE BABY YOU’RE a firework…

  My cellphone rings in the distance, pulling me out of a sleep I really don’t want to leave.

  Make ’em go ah…

  I wake up with the after effects of my high still circling my head. With a groan, I lift myself off the grass. How the hell did I get here? I crawl to my phone. Thirteen missed calls from my mother. I shake my head and gaze at the time.

  Six o’clock.

  It’s six fucking o’clock. It can’t be six! What the hell happened?

  Oh, yeah, I let Creeper convince me to use his voodoo weed machine. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. I’ll never make it in time. My scream awakens Trixie and Creeper and brings Mrs. Creeper dashing into the backyard. She has a cellphone in her hand, extended toward me.

  I wonder who’s on the other end.

  With a grimace, I take the phone. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Kinsley! Why are you not here! People are already lining up.”

  “Running late. No time to talk. See you there.” I hang up and hand the phone back to Mrs. Creeper with an awkward smile. “Sorry.”

  I grab my purse and start for the door.

  “Ley.” Creeper’s voice is thick with high. “Maybe you should stay here. You’re not going to make it.”

  His words might as well be little knives stabbing me in the gut. I’m used to fucking up, but how could I have fucked this up? After last year, I can’t risk going through that again.

  I have to get there in time. They have to let me in. They just have to.

  ` “No, I’ll make it.” I rush to peck Trixie and Creeper on the cheek before I dart through his bedroom toward the front door.

  “Call us when you get there!” Trixie calls after me.

  I don’t answer. I don’t want to waste any more time, not even talking. I throw myself into my car and peel out.

  III

  The Night

  I BREAK EVERY speed law ever made trying to get to Harker Heights in time. Lucky for me, there aren’t a lot of cops out, and those who are, are much too busy worrying about the dead than to pay attention to some girl speeding. As I fly down the interstate, I check the time every few seconds. It’s not my friend today. God, what will I do if they lock me out? I shake my head, tightening my grip on the wheel. No, it won’t happen. It can’t happen. I’ll lie my ass off. Make them feel sorry for me, anything to get inside those gates.

  I pull up to them ten minutes late. With a wry smile, I let down my window for the security guard.

  “Hi.” I fumble through my purse and pull out my invitation. “Kinsley Lane. I should be on the list.”

  He barely looks at me. “Gates closed at six-thirty. Can’t let anyone in.”

  Panic grips my heart like an octopus, and I can’t breathe. I grab my chest as I start to hyperventilate. My skin tightens around my bones, and blackness slides into the edges of my vision.

  “You okay, miss?”

  I can’t talk. I can’t breathe! He has to let me in! He just has to. Whatever is in my expression has, Mr. Security out of his booth and poking his face in my open window.

  “Hey, miss! You want me to call someone for you?”

  I shake my head. “You have.” Huff. “To let.” Pant. “Me in.”

  He frowns, and his gray eyes crinkle with concern. “Rules are very strict ma’am. Can’t do that.”

  My bottom lip starts to quiver. As quickly as I can, I reach for a lie. Some lie that doesn’t involve, ‘Oh, hey, I was late because I had to try my best friend’s vaporizer and passed out.’ Something tells me that wouldn’t fly.

  “Please.” I open my door, forcing him to back away. Then, I unleash the full force of my pout at him. He’s an older guy, maybe even a father? Maybe he won’t be able to stand seeing a young girl cry. Maybe that will make him break the rules just this once. “I was on m-my way.” I let the tears flow freely. “A-and I got caught in…” I was about to say caught in traffic, but that’s not believable as everyone knows the roads are pretty clear on All Hallows’ Eve.

  “A-and my car had trouble. I had to pull over and…”

  “Ah, heck, miss.” He goes back into the booth and returns with a tissue, which he hands over to me. “I really wish I could help, but the rules is the rules. Now, you really need to get yourself someplace safe.”

  Desperation takes hold of me, and my senses go out the metaphorical window. I stumble toward him and grab the front of his work shirt.

  “Please!” My eyes trail down to his nametag. “Please, Mr. Spire. You have to let me in. I can’t go back out there. I have nowhere to go. It isn’t safe, and after what happened last year…”

  Mr. Spire glances right, then left, his eyes wild as if he’s hoping someone will come help him with the crazy girl hanging from his collar. He tries to pull away from me, and I tighten my grip. No way is he getting out of this that easy. I’m not going out into the city to become some dead person’s free day fuck.

  No way. Not again. I’m about to open my mouth to plead. To bribe. To do anything to get behind that gate when a throat clears behind us. Mr. Spire turns and goes rigid, standing up straighter and tidying up his collar.

  “Is there a problem here?” a smooth voice says from behind Mr. Spire.

  I can’t see around him, but the voice seems to send massage waves up and down my spine. I have a physical reaction to it. My heart slows. I release Mr. Spire and stand up straight. The voice doses me with instant calm.

  When Mr. Spire steps to the side, I see why.

  Mac Harker.

  Damn.

  Neither his pictures nor his TV appearances do him any justice. Dressed in a white shirt, black pants and matching suspenders, his tattoos seem to jump off his tanned arms, glinting in the moonlight. I can only make out the lower part of his face, a commanding jaw dusted with short facial hair. The reason I can only make out the top part of his face is because he’s wearing a top hat set low over his forehead. He has a black robe with a symbol I can’t make out draped over his left shoulder.

  Damn.

  “Mr. Harker, no problem, sir. I was just explaining to the young lady that the gates close at six-thirty. No exceptions.”

  He’s so formal, I half expect him to salute.

  Mac descends the small hill beside the security booth and saunters up to me. I smooth my dress and peer up at him, trying not to appear too star struck. His full lips twist up into an easy smile. An easy, sexy as hell smile.

  I try to keep my eyes on his half-hidden face when what they really want to do is trail down to his lean, but well-built chest. It’s not easy to do seeing as how his shirt is maddeningly form fitting. I gulp down butterflies that tickle the insides of my stomach.

  “And this is?” He’s peering down at me, but is clearly addressing Mr. Spire.

  “Um, Kinsley Lane. She’s been granted passage, but as I was explaining, the gates close at six…”

  Mac holds his hand up, and Mr. Spire goes mute faster than Charlie Chaplin. His hand lowers slowly to his side, and he inches even closer to me. Normally, I’d back up, but I seem to be fixed into place. Like, the only way I’d be able to move is if he granted me permission.

  “Kinsley Lane, huh?” His smile reveals teeth this time. “My charge. I’ve been expecting you. But as you heard Mr. Spire say, probably more than once, is that the gates close at six-t
hirty. And it’s now…” He pulls a pocket watch out, flips it open and examines the face.

  Who the hell carries a pocket watch?

  Very hot witches, that’s who.

  “Seven.” Mac closes the watch and places it back in his pocket. “Why are you tardy?”

  Tardy?

  I clear my throat and square my shoulders, trying to think of a good enough lie to get me through the frickin’ gate. But Mac unnerves me. Just standing there, staring down at me, I forget how to brain. My mouth opens, and a weird giggle- snort combination comes out of me that I don’t recognize. I never snort when I laugh, yet here it is, happening in front of the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

  Of course.

  His eyebrow raises as he waits for me to finish. But I can’t seem to stop. My hands fly to my mouth as if I can squeeze the asinine noise back into myself, cut it off somehow, but it just keeps coming. Finally, Mac’s lips ease into a smile, and a chuckle comes out of his throat.

  “Have you been on something, Miss Lane?”

  My laughter cuts off abruptly. Shit, was he gazing at me in a crystal ball before I got here?

  “No! Why would you say that? No.” I shake my head. “Uh-uh, of course not.”

  Placing his hands in his pockets, he says, “I was kidding.” He tilts his head to the side. “You were about to tell me why you’re late.”

  I stare up at him and sigh, flipping my arms up in the air. “I was stupid. Lost track of time.” Might as well get as close to the truth as possible. I’m a terrible liar as it is, and lying with him standing there staring at me like that? Impossible.

  “Hm. Do you often lose track of time?”

  The instinct to munch on my hair swells up, but I manage to stomp it down. I stare at him, confused by the question for some reason. His jade eyes shine even in the approaching darkness, and the longer he stares down at me, the more confused I become.

  What the hell? I’m a smart girl. I fix computers for a living, damn it!

  “And why are you covered in grass stains?”

  With a frown, I glance down at myself and find that my new dress is indeed covered in grass stains. No doubt from rolling around high in Creeper’s back yard. Damn him and his vaporizer.

  “I was uh… I was chasing my friend’s dog. He got out and…” My voice doesn’t even convince me.

  “Your friend’s dog?” he asks, and a twinkle of amusement sparks in his eyes.

  For some reason, the fact that he doesn’t instantly believe me makes me angry. Is he messing with me? Tonight?

  I square my shoulders. “Yes, my friend’s dog Fluttershy. I was chasing him and fell in the grass.” I shoot him a look, daring him to call me out on this obvious lie.

  Instead, Mac just chuckles and then turns to Mr. Spire. “I think we can make an exception this one time.” He nods at me. “After all, Miss Lane was preforming a civic duty. We wouldn’t want to punish her for that, would we?”

  “But, the missus…”

  Mac waves his hand in the air. “I know how to handle my mother. Now please, open the gate.”

  Mr. Spire darts his eyes between the two of us, then begrudgingly climbs back into the booth. Seconds later, the gate creeks open.

  “There,” Mac says, smiling down at me. “Would you mind giving me a lift?”

  My head bobs up and down like an enthusiastic dog. “Um, yes. Of course.” I stumble away, almost trip over my feet, and have to grab my open door to steady myself. Another giggle that doesn’t belong to me spurts out of my mouth, and I climb in feeling like an idiot.

  Then, I freak out. I glance around my messy car that hasn’t been cleaned in oh…well, I can’t remember the last time it was cleaned. How can I let this beautiful creature into this piece of shit car?

  He rattles the car door then his face appears near the window. He shoots me a quizzical look. For a second, I consider speeding off, but that’s rude. Oh, God. I’m going to have to open the door. Slowly, like cement has been poured into my limbs, I scoot all the crap in my passenger seat to the floor and unlock the door.

  Mac ducks in and hesitates before folding his long body and placing himself in the seat. He smiles over at me.

  “Quaint.”

  Heat scorches my cheeks, and with clumsy fingers, I go to start the car. The engine lets out a sound like wrenches being thrown into a garbage disposal. With a cringe, I let go of the keys, because clearly, the engine has been running this whole time.

  Mac lets out a low chuckle. “Um, just pull up behind that line of cars.” He points out the windshield. My eyes linger on that finger, and thoughts that make me flush even more creep into my head. Don’t judge me; it’s a nice finger. When I make no move to steer the car forward, he glances sidelong at me. “Miss Lane? Are you all right?”

  I nod then clear my throat. “Yeah, I just…” I take it out of park and gently press the gas. “I… You can call me Kinsley.”

  “All right, Kinsley. Just pull up behind that black car. Yes, that’s it.”

  I put the car back in park and kill the engine. Then, I reach for my purse and hang it from my shoulder. When I turn to him, he’s staring at me like some puzzle he’s having trouble putting together. I glance away.

  “Are you ready?” he says after a few minutes.

  I nod, then step out of the car. His door slams seconds after mine, and he rounds the front of my car to stand at my side.

  “Hold on, there.”

  I pause when he places himself in front of me. He reaches out, and I freeze. With a smile, he leans in closer, and I stop breathing.

  “You have something in your hair.” Gently, he brushes his fingers through my hair, and my eyes close. It feels like I’ve been wrapped in an electric blanket. “There.” When his fingers pull away, I open my eyes and gaze up at him. He’s holding a few blades of grass.

  He smiles. “You must have worked real hard getting that dog back.”

  I gulp. “Yes, yes I did.” I try to sound confident. Not sure that I do.

  Mac backs up and starts walking slowly away from me. He stretches his arms wide in the air. “Welcome, Kinsley, to Harker Heights.”

  My eyes don’t know where to look first. Inside the gates, beautiful brick buildings stand on each side of a cobblestoned street. They stand three floors high, and candles light up in the windows, fluttering like tiny fire dancers. Victorian style streetlamps are posted at each corner, surrounded by flowers that seem to have lights dancing on their petals. They blink off and on. Pink, green, purple and orange. My mouth forms a small o.

  “Bewitched fireflies,” Mac explains.

  “Cool.” It seems like such a lame thing to say about something so beautiful, but it’s all my muddled brain can come up with.

  Mac laughs, still walking backwards. As we pass a long line of cars, he gestures toward the biggest house I’ve ever seen.

  “This is the main house.”

  I look up at it in awe. Like all the buildings around it, it’s made of a sturdy brick. Candles also light up in the windows. Near the entrance, at either side, massive statues of two goddesses stand.

  “Athena and Artemis.”

  Mac nods. “Very good. My mother likes to surround her family with strong women.”

  I smile. “I like her already.”

  Mac grins. “Save that judgement until you meet her. She has a very… willful personality.”

  I’m about to respond when the sound of rushing water grabs my attention. I spin around. In the distance, white mist is rushing toward the air. I squint my eyes against the darkness to find an oval-shaped, glass dome. From here, it looks like a waterfall is running through it, and flowers are laced, almost floating, through the air.

  My heart leaps into my throat. “What is that?”

  Mac follows my gaze. “Oh, you’ll be wanting to see that, Miss…Kinsley. I call it paradise, but it’s the place of spiritual attunement. I’ll take you there later, if you’d like.”

  I nod, with my mouth ha
lf-open. “Yes, I’d love to.”

  He reaches an arm out toward me. “For now, I need to get you inside.” He smiles, and my legs turn to jelly. I would give anything to be able to have this effect on him.

  “Okay.” I take his arm, and together, we start to ascend the steps. Then I stop and plant my palm into my forehead. “Oh, no.”

  He glances down at me. “Something wrong?”

  “No, I just need to. . .” Even though I really don’t want to, I remove my arm from his and dig around in my purse. Pulling out my cellphone, I say, “I just need to call my friends, let them know I’m safe. It’ll only take a minute.”

  He frowns and holds out his hand. “I’m afraid cellphones aren’t allowed within the gates. We instituted the policy after some of our rituals showed up on YouTube.”

  I look at my phone, then back into his face. “I can’t go the whole night without my phone.”

  “You’re going to have to.”

  I stomp my foot. This is bullshit!

  “Just one, teeny weeny phone call?” I bat my lashes at him. Like that will help.

  He sighs, then his lips twist into that sexy smile. “One minute, Kinsley. I’ve already stuck my neck out for you more than enough tonight.”

  I clap my hands. “Thank you so much! I’ll make it up to you.”

  He steps closer to me and peers down. “Yes, you will,” he says softly.

  Then, leaving me shivering where I stand, he bounds up the stairs two at a time and turns and leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest. My heart pounds in my ears. I have to pry my eyes away from him in order to find Creeper’s number in my cell.

  He picks up on the first ring. “Ley! Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “I’m putting you on speaker.”

  “Kinsley!” There is a rush of static. “You—make—okay?”

  “Yeah,” I yell into the phone. “I made it here. I’m safe. How are you guys doing?”

  “We’re.” Static. “Great. How is everything? Make sure to send us video!” Creeper says.

  I smile. “Can’t, they’re taking my phone. You won’t be able to reach me tonight.”