Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “Saving your friend.”

  “By offering up somebody else?” I press my lips together. “No way!”

  “Well, what do you expect me to do?” he snaps. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Just banish him!”

  “Banish a decades-old ghost with street magic?” He snorts. “Isn’t going to happen. This is the only way. You need to trust me.”

  I shake my head again, this time hard enough to bounce my curls all around my neck. “No way.”

  He sighs and places his hands on my shoulders. “If he stays here, he’ll kill your two friends, go on a killing spree, and Trixie’s mind will be dead by morning. She won’t be able to handle it. She’ll be locked inside herself for the rest of her life. That’s no way to live.” His eyes darken, and his face crumbles in pain. “The only question is how far are you willing to go to save the people you care about.”

  My mouth falls open as I stare up into his eyes. “I—I can’t just… If you put him into another body, won’t he still go on a killing spree?”

  “Yes,” he tells me in a flat tone.

  My heart bounces around in my chest from the shock of his chilled responses.

  “But I can make him go somewhere else as payment for finding him another body.”

  I shake my head. This isn’t happening. I’m supposed to be tucked away safely at Harker Heights, not dealing with the dead. Not tonight. What am I supposed to do? Let him offer up some stranger to save my best friend? The answer should be easy. I love Trixie. Can’t picture a world without her in it, yet here I am hesitating.

  What was wrong with me?

  Why is the world so fucked up?

  I run my fingers through my hair and sigh, covering my face.

  “I need your answer, Kinsley,” Charming says in a gentle voice. “The longer he’s in her, the more damage he’ll do.”

  Tears sting my eyes. I feel like ripping my hair out. Finally, I let my hands fall away from my face. “Isn’t there any other way?”

  His face falls at the sight of whatever expression is on my face. I’d guess anguish, because that’s what I feel in the space where my heart is supposed to me.

  “Please?” I plead to him. “Please, try.”

  He sighs and looks up toward the ceiling. “If it were that easy, don’t you think that would have been the first thing I suggested?”

  I bite my lip, desperate. “I believe in you.”

  And I really did. I have no idea why, but I’m not just telling him what I think he wants to hear. I know, deep down, that he can do this. I know that he will do this.

  He arches an eyebrow. “I appreciate your belief, but it doesn’t change my abilities. Casting magic on the dead is another art form. They bend for the darker arts. And the older a ghost is, the harder it is to get them to even do that. Why do you think even the most powerful witches known hide behind magic walls instead of taking them on? Because it can’t be done. Every time it’s been tried, it hasn’t ended well.”

  I stare hard into his eyes. “Have you ever tried?”

  He shakes his head. “Of course not.”

  “Well, maybe that’s why it hasn’t ended well before, because you’ve never tried.”

  He almost smiles then stops himself. With a sigh, he covers his mouth. “I don’t know, Kinsley. This is…”

  “Please.” I take his hand in mine. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll try it your way.”

  His hands drop to his sides. “I have your word?”

  I nod quickly. “Yes.”

  “So, what’s it going to be?” Leonard’s voice interrupts.

  Both our gazes snap toward Trixie, who is twirling a knife and staring at us with a smug smile. I shudder. It’s so weird to stare at your best friend and not see her. To see a long dead serial killer. This isn’t something any of us will forget for a while.

  Charming turns toward the possessed Trixie, and his lips turn up into a dangerous smile. “It’s lady’s choice tonight. And she insists I make you my bitch.”

  I CAN’T BELIEVE what a horrible person I am. A thrill rushes through me. An actual thrill. Everything, from the sound of Charming’s voice to the look on his face when he threatened this old and dangerous ghost sets me on fire. My best friend is in very real danger. Creeper’s family is in very real danger, and here I am having naughty girl thoughts about a witch whose name I don’t even know.

  To my credit, the thoughts only last a second, a split second really, then my high starts to creep in.

  Okay, maybe I don’t deserve a lot of credit.

  Charming pushes me back as Trixie approaches.

  “I didn’t catch that, son.” He places a hand to her ear. “I really need you to speak up. Ears aren’t what they used to be.”

  “I said,” Charming starts again, leaving my heart racing miles around itself. “I’m about to fuck you up.” He flashes a brilliant smile.

  Trixie’s eyes narrow. “Is that right, son?”

  Charming nods. “Get out of here,” he mutters to me out of the side of his mouth.

  “No way,” I whisper back.

  He turns to me, face stern, commanding, and so very sexy. “I said, get out of here. Now.” His hand shoots out in my direction, and I fly backward into the living room screaming.

  Somehow, I land on my feet next to Creeper, whose regaining consciousness. Right away, I rush back toward Charming only to hit an invisible barrier between the living room and the walkway. I swat at it, and a tingling sensation rushes up my arm. I back up, try to run at it, and fall back on my ass.

  I’ve been placed on magical lockdown.

  “Damnit, Charming!” I growl, standing up.

  He and the hijacked Trixie circle each other. My heart tightens in my chest. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to do this. I would never forgive myself if he or my best friend got hurt. I start chewing on my hair. What was I thinking?

  Charming stops moving, his back to me. Then he launches himself at my bestie and grabs her body around the waist. His feet come off the floor, and he flies–yes, flies—out the door, taking it right off its hinges. Splinters of wood rain down in the front hall and on the welcome mat. I bite down on my hair as they twirl around in a whirlwind of movement I can barely follow.

  Spitting out my hair, I turn to Creeper and his mom. The least I can do is be useful. I hurry to Creeper’s mom and quickly untie her. Then I rip the duct tape from her mouth. She lets out a low groan.

  “Sorry,” I say, prying the sticky tape from my fingers. “My mom always just ripped the band aids right off.”

  Creeper’s mom doesn’t say anything as she places both of her hands over the gaping wound in her thigh. I gulp. I’ve never seen that much blood come out of one person. Well, not since that night. The night I hit Kai.

  “Help him,” she says in a raspy voice, gesturing toward Creeper.

  I nod and turn my untying talents to my other best friend. I rip the tape off his mouth, and he clenches his jaw and tosses a few choice curse words at me.

  “Sorry,” I say again, cupping his face in my hands. “Are you okay?”

  He stares up at me with the kind of glazed eyes you only get when you’re in pain and disoriented at the same time.

  Biting my lip, I race to the couch, get a pillow, and prop it behind Creeper’s head. Then I take off for the downstairs bathroom. Usually I stop to admire Mrs. Creeper’s great taste every time I enter this bathroom, but tonight I head straight for the medicine cabinet. Pulling it open, I find toothpaste, a few bundles of floss, and a bottle of Tylenol. In other words, nothing useful.

  I slam it shut and race up the stairs to the other bathroom. There I find a first aid kit and some witch hazel. I grab a few towels and run down the stairs. Back in the living room, I line up the supplies on the coffee table. Then I pour some of the astringent on a washcloth and hurry over to Creeper. Carefully, I press the towel against the back of his head.

  As I do this, I try to tune out the sounds of crashing, ban
ging, and screaming echoing from outside.

  It isn’t easy.

  God, I hope Charming is winning.

  I keep the towel pressed against Creeper’s head until the bleeding stops. Witch hazel is good for that. Then I wrap his head up in white gauze.

  “Thanks, Ley,” he says in a slurred voice.

  I kiss the top of his head and go back for his mother. Blood is bubbling up between her fingers. I swallow a wave of nausea and lean down beside her. I press a washcloth drenched in witch hazel against her thigh. I know that the stuff helps stop bleeding, but this is a lot of blood.

  Soon it starts to soak toward the towel. I bite my lip. We may have to get her to the hospital. I press down harder, and she groans.

  “Sorry,” I say for the third time. “I have to get the bleeding to stop.”

  She nods. “Trevor. Are you okay?” Her voice comes out like leaves blown by a strong wind. Shaky, but trying to hold on to that branch.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Creeper says. “You?”

  She forces a laugh. I smile up at her. Another scream sounds from outside. I try not to jump up to go see what’s happening. It’s hard because the scream came from Charming.

  I manage to get the bleeding stopped, and I stand up, hands still pressed against her wound.

  “Hold this down,” I tell her.

  She replaces my hands with her own, and I head for Creeper’s room and open his closet. I reach for the only tie he has, a hideous light blue thing with—you guessed it—My Little Ponies spackled all over it and head back to my patient. I use the tie to create a tourniquet above her wound then wrap the actual injury as tight as I can with gauze.

  Leaning back, I examine my work. She’ll still have to get to the hospital, but hopefully this will do for now.

  “Are you guys okay?” I wince as the sound of yet another scream, followed by begging—Charming begging—reaches my ears.

  “What’s going on out there?” Creeper asks.

  I just shake my head and rush back to the space between the living room and walkway. All I can make out from here is one figure crouched over another. My spirits lift when I see it’s Charming. Then my heart slips through my toes and to the floor when I realize he isn’t crouching. He’s being held up by Trixie, whose hand happens to be going right through his chest.

  “Oh, God.” I start forward then remember the magical barrier and hesitate. “Damnit!” I ball my hands into fists, back up several feet, then throw myself at the wall, placing my hands in front of myself to brace for impact.

  Turns out there was no need. The barrier isn’t there. When I realize that, my heart sours. It means Charming is losing his strength. He’s losing. I should have listened to him.

  My shoes crunch over the splintered wood as I race for him. Trixie has him lifted above her body as a foreign laugh spills across her lips. Charming’s face is twisted into a mask of unbearable pain.

  Without thinking, I rush forward and place my hand on his back, trying to pull him away from Trixie.

  As soon as I do, the magic hits me.

  Only it isn’t intruding. It isn’t violating me like magic has been doing for most of the night. It welcomes me. Fills me with a warmth greater than anything I’ve ever known. My hand glows like a hopeful, golden fire.

  Charming lets out a gasp, and a look of worry flashes across Trixie’s face.

  Charming lets out a chuckle and says, “Yeah, you know what that means.”

  For some reason, I keep my hand placed against his back. Like most things I feel I’m around him, I just know that I have to. That somehow this physical contact is helping.

  Charming grabs Trixie’s wrist and pulls her fist out of him. Then he stands up and reaches for my hand. He places it over his wet wound. The golden light burns brighter, and his wound closes. Then he smirks and waves his hands over Trixie’s body.

  “No!” Leonard’s voice screams.

  Black mist funnels out of Charming’s fingers, and he starts muttering in a language I don’t know, just like Mac did when he performed the banishment on me. Only Charming doesn’t use a wand; the magic is just a part of him.

  An energy presses against me, but it doesn’t hurt. Not me, at least. A scream like a fork scraping against a plate rips from Trixie’s throat.

  Charming’s voice rises with each round of chanting, and soon, black mist covers the entirety of Creeper’s front yard. Then his hands are over his head, and he screams, “Be gone!”

  The black mist freezes then cyclones above our heads. Slowly, I remove my hand and stare at it, mouth agape. The mist folds in on itself until finally it is nothing more than a small, black ball. Charming reaches out a hand and flicks it away like a marble.

  I glance down at Trixie, who is balling her eyes out while she’s curled up in the fetal position.

  He did it. Charming took on the dead and won.

  I WRAP TRIXIE up in every blanket I can find in Creeper’s house and still, she shivers. Standing behind her, I rub her shoulders, trying to get her to warm up. I know the sudden cold of the dead leaving your body. It’s as if you were never warm, never ran outside and raised your face to the sun. For me, it lasted for days. I hope my best friend wouldn’t have to go through that. I rub her shoulders until Mrs. Creeper’s tea kettle whistles, then I race to the stove and start preparing three cups of tea.

  “I told you I don’t need anything,” Creeper says, sounding much more like himself. He eyes the tray with the three cups on it and purses his lips.

  “It won’t hurt.” I place a cup in front of Trixie, Creeper, and his mom, then sit down at the only other chair at the table, right next to Trixie. I try to keep my thoughts with them instead of on Charming, who is still in the front yard.

  “We need to get you to the hospital, Ma,” Creeper says, not touching his cup of tea.

  I nod my agreement.

  She waves both of us off. “I told you, I’m fine. The bleeding has stopped.”

  “You’re going to need stiches and antibiotics.” Creeper loops a finger through the handle of his coffee mug.

  “Yes, that can wait for later.”

  I bite down on my lip then turn my attention to Trixie. She’s shaking so hard she can’t get the cup to her lips. Tea sloshes out of the side of the cup and runs down her hand. I reach over, take it from her, and place it against her lips.

  At first, she hesitates. Trixie isn’t the kind of person who ever asks for help, mostly because she never needs it.

  “It’ll warm you up,” I say.

  She sighs then parts her lips. I gently place the rim of the cup against her mouth, and she sips it. Her tremble stops a little, and I encourage her to take more. She does so without putting up a fuss. When the cup is half-drained, I set it down on a saucer.

  She wraps her blankets tighter around her body and tilts her head at me.

  “What?” I ask, already feeling self-conscious. I’m easy that way. All it takes is someone to look at me, and I immediately start to evaluate all the things that are wrong with me. Trixie says that’s a habit I need to start breaking.

  “How did you break out of Harker Heights? I thought… I thought the magic was impossible to pass.”

  My eyes shift toward the walkway. When I left Charming, he was outside staring up at the moon. I’ll bet he’s in that same position. I want to go to him—I need to go to him—but I need to make sure my friends are okay first.

  “Yeah, and how did you even know about this?” Trixie asks.

  I frown. Did they really want to talk about this now? After everything that’s just happened?

  Their near-matching, inquisitive gazes tell me, yes, this is exactly what they want to talk about. I gesture for Trixie to drink more tea. Her eyes narrow slightly, but she picks up her cup, her hands almost steady again. She sips on it as she stares over the lip at me.

  I shrug. “Well, Mac Harker, the witch that’s assigned to be my guardian, apparently has people on the outside. He asked…”

&nb
sp; “Whoa!” Creeper holds up his hand. “Did you say Mac Harker? As in the Mac Harker?”

  I nod.

  He slaps his hands against the table, and his mother jumps. I cross my arms.

  “Take it easy,” I say. “We really should get you two to the hospital.”

  Creeper sighs much louder than necessary. “One does not simply go to the ER on dead free-for-all day.”

  I glower across the table at him. “All hospitals are required to stay open tonight.”

  “Which is why everyone is there. By the time we get seen, it’d be morning, anyway. We might as well wait.”

  His mother nods. “Yes, we’ll wait until morning.” She tries to stand, and I bounce out of my chair and go to help steady her. She smiles sideways at me. “Thank you, doll. Can you help me to my room? I’d like to lay down.”

  “Of course.”

  We’re halfway to the walkway when footsteps come rushing up behind us. My heart freezes in my chest for a half-second before I turn around and see it’s only Trixie.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, struggling to support half of Mrs. Creeper’s weight. “You need to sit down.”

  Trixie wobbles on her feet and reaches for the wall to steady herself. She opens her mouth and shakes her head, then places her gaze directly on Mrs. Creeper.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes fall to Creeper’s mom’s wounded leg. “I can’t believe I—” She sniffles. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

  Mrs. Creeper’s lips stretch into a kind, yet tired, smile. “Oh, honey, I know that. I know that wasn’t you.” She sighs and shakes her head. “It’s just…the night.” With another smile, she turns around with my help, and we slowly ascend the stairs.

  I lead her to her bedroom, prop her injured leg on a pillow and place a tall glass of water on her nightstand. By the time I leave the bedroom, she’s already softly snoring in the dark.

  Ghost possession takes a lot out of you. Even if it’s not your body being violated. I close the door behind me and head back down the stairs. From the bottom of the staircase, Creeper and Trixie’s mumbled speech reaches my ears. I stare through the hole in the side of the house where the door used to be.