Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  I never thought I’d see him again, and here he is in front of me. His beautiful face scrunches up, and he turns his eyes on me. What I see there makes my heart sink. He’s still angry. Worse than that, he’s hurt.

  And I’m the one who hurt him. Every muscle in my body screams out to go to him, but for some reason I hold back.

  “What were you doing right before I got here?” he asks in an even tone that doesn’t match his expression.

  He’s trying to keep everything business. I can’t really blame him. For a second, seeing that look on his face makes me forget. I shake the cobwebs from my brain as I look around. My gaze lands on the water. On the goddess.

  “I was wiping water from my jeans.” I leave out the part about thinking of his hands all over my body. “Then I whispered your name.”

  “Water?” he asks, turning around. His eyes widen like he just now noticed the huge, stone goddess pouring water from her golden chalice. Lowering his head, he steps forward and dips his hand in.

  “Careful. It tingles,” I say.

  He rubs his thumb against his index and middle fingers then brings them up under his nose. With a sniff, his eyes light up, and he shakes the water off.

  “Akasha,” he mutters.

  “A what?” I ask with a frown.

  He looks down at me with narrow eyes. His forehead wrinkles like he’s concentrating hard on something. Finally, he stares up at the goddess and points.

  “Someone put this here. For you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

  “Akasha is the source of neutral magic. Whoever wanted you trapped in here is the only one that can let you out, because a witch’s trap bends to the will of that witch. However, if someone plants an Akashic relic, the magic can be bent because she doesn’t recognize the will of any witch over the other.”

  I frown. “Who is Akasha?”

  He shrugs. “No one really knows. There are so many definitions. Some witches believe she is an element. Others believe she is the original, the first witch, and therefore the mother to us all.”

  I nod. “Okay…but who here would want to help me?”

  Charming’s face darkens. “Really? You can’t think of anyone?” He spits the words at me, and they land harsh on my ears.

  I wince. “No.”

  He laughs darkly. “Sure. Anyway, this relic brought you help. In other words, me.” He crosses his arms again and looks away.

  I stand there staring at him in silence. I want to apologize. To get on my knees and beg forgiveness, but I can tell from the slump of his shoulders and the twisted mask of pain in his expression that there is no forgiveness here. So, I just stand there, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, trying to think of something, anything, to break this painful silence.

  Finally, all I come up with is, “So, will you help me?”

  His head snaps in my direction. “Why should I?”

  I back away from him and hug myself. It’s hard to believe that the person whose arms held me the way they did only hours ago could speak to me with such malice.

  Yet I know it’s my fault. I’m the one who left him. I left him for my tiny, white pills because I know them better. I don’t know anything about him, yet I love him. Something in my heart and mind tell me that it’s not true. That I do know him. I just don’t know how. For instance, I know the emotion behind the malice in his voice.

  It’s hurt.

  I also know if he does abandon me right now, it’s not because he’s a bad person. It’s because his heart doesn’t bounce back easily. We have that in common. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.

  “Tell me, Kinsley. Why shouldn’t I leave you in this trap? Why shouldn’t I walk away from you the same way you walked away from me?”

  I open and close my mouth several times. Finally I say, “You should,” in a barely audible voice.

  He steps closer to me. “What’s that?” His nostrils flare apart in anger. “Speak up.”

  “I said you should!” My voice is as clear as the blue light throbbing above us. “You shouldn’t help me.”

  “Damn right I shouldn’t!” He points toward the small space between us. “You know, when I came here tonight looking for you, I didn’t expect…” His jaw clenches, and he kicks at the ground. “I came here to tell you off, not to…” Again, he’s too flustered to finish his sentence.

  I tilt my head to the side. “To tell me off for what?”

  His eyes narrow, then he shakes his head. “No, you don’t get to know. You don’t get to know me. You don’t get my name.”

  Tears sting my eyes. I blink them back. I deserve this. I deserve everything he’s saying. He should walk away from me. When he turns his back, I resist the urge to go up behind him and wrap my arms around him.

  Looking at the ground, I focus on the blades of grass glowing in the pale, blue light. Everything around us is warped by that blue light. Makes me feel like I’m in a world nothing like my own. Feeling things I would normally never feel.

  When I peer up, his back is still to me. But he isn’t gone. At least not yet. Biting down on my lip, I reach into my pocket and take out my pills. I stare down at them and sigh. Then I look up and inch my way toward him.

  “I’m a rough adic,” I mumble between pursed lips.

  Charming turns around and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

  With another sigh, I take in a deep breath and force myself to meet his gaze.

  “I’m a drug addict,” I say in a clear voice.

  Saying it out loud gives me a queasy feeling. I’ve never said anything close to that out loud. Never even thought of it. Never thought of myself that way. But if the definition is someone who needs to take drugs, then there you have it.

  My head starts to swim.

  “I know,” he says in a soft voice.

  I expect him to be disgusted. To turn away. Instead, he looks at me with eyes full of understanding. There is something else on his face too, something that almost looks like pride.

  I look back down at my bottle. With shaking hands, I twist the lid off and trudge closer to the fountain. I hold my arm out over the water and start to tip the bottle.

  Then I freeze.

  Fear grips hold of my heart and squeezes tight. I need these pills. I won’t last an hour without them. Throwing them away is a waste. They’ve been so good to me over the past year. I should just swallow the last of this stash down right now.

  Charming comes up behind me and places his hand gently over mine.

  “You can do it,” he says with his lips against my ear.

  I shiver. From fear? From excitement? The emotions are too close to tell.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Trust me,” he says in a whisper.

  “I’ll be in withdrawal.”

  “Yes,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He uses his hand to tip mine toward the water.

  “Wait!” I shout, panic ripe in my tone.

  He stops, and I listen to the rhythmic breathing of his breath against my ear. I step away from him, not far, but enough that his hand is nowhere near mine. If I’m going to do this—and I don’t know that I am—I have to do it on my own. I stand there for what feels like hours until finally I close my eyes and suck in a sharp breath. It stabs my lungs.

  Then I tilt the pill bottle. They plop-plop-plop into the water, and I open my eyes. The pills melt away, turning the water milky white. Clutching the empty bottle to my chest, I resist the urge to leap in after them.

  It isn’t easy.

  After a few minutes, Charming says, “I’m proud of you.”

  I turn to him. “I’m scared.”

  He nods. “I know.” Then he wraps his arms around me.

  I start to shake. I can’t imagine getting through a day without popping one of those pills. Hell, I can’t imagine getting through the next hour without popping one. Charming holds me tighter.

  God, I really am sick. He
re I am, life probably in danger, and all I can think of is pills. I bury my face against his chest and breathe in his heady scent of soap and rainwater.

  A few more minutes pass before I say, “I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” he says again.

  I pull away and peer up at him. A single tear rolls slowly down my cheek. He reaches out and brushes it away.

  “Does that mean you’ll stay? We’ll spend the night together?”

  Before he can answer, a dark female laugh rings out from behind us.

  “You should already be gone!” a male voice hisses in frustration.

  I turn around to find Mac and Gemma. He’s on his knees with her wand, a sleek, black thing with an intricate silver handle, pointed at his head.

  “Who were you talking to, dear?” Gemma asks, raising a bushy eyebrow in my direction.

  I glance at Charming then back at her. I’m guessing he’s doing that thing where people can’t see him, and I look crazy. Great.

  I shrug, trying to appear casual. “No one.”

  “Oh, really?”

  She swoops forward, Mac bouncing on the ground beside her like a dog being forced to go where it doesn’t want to go. She stops inches away from my face and sniffs the air.

  “I smell it.”

  I force myself to hold her gaze. “Smell what?”

  She leans forward and smirks. “Magic.”

  I square my shoulders. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  Charming takes me and shoves me behind his back. I stare up at him.

  “Why don’t you make yourself visible?” I whisper into his ear.

  He doesn’t respond.

  Mac eyes me from the ground, his face contorted in pain. “Who…are you talking to?”

  I shake my head and bite down on my lower lip.

  “Damnit, Kinsley. You should have already been gone!” Mac screams at me.

  Gemma turns on her son and twists her wand hand. He lets out a howl of pain.

  “I should have known you’d try to do something stupid. You put the relic here?” Her wand hand twists again, and Mac writhes in pain.

  “Stop it!” I shout, stepping out from behind Charming. “You’re hurting him!”

  Gemma’s eyes shift toward me. Her face becomes a cruel sneer. “That’s the point.” She turns back to Mac. “She really is dense, isn’t she? You thought she’d figure out how to use the relic?” She practically cackles.

  I narrow my eyes at the bitch. “Screw you.” I rush toward her and drive a fist into her stomach.

  Her eyes pop wide open, and she buckles over. The hold she has on Mac is temporarily lifted. He looks at me with very real fear in his eyes as he grabs his middle.

  “Run!” Mac says.

  Charming and I turn and dash toward the fountain. Before we reach the water, a black ooze zips out and wraps around our ankles. It anchors us to the floor as it wraps up our legs toward our midsections.

  In panic, I bat at my legs like they’re on fire.

  Beside me, Charming mutters something I don’t understand, and the ooze starts to back off. Within seconds, we are free, but it doesn’t last. My body turns around against my will, and Gemma bears down on me with her wand.

  “What the hell was that?” she hisses.

  I try to open my mouth, but it stays clamped closed as if it has a mind of its own. As if it’s bending to Gemma’s will. She steps closer to me and traces my lips with her wand. I try to back away, but again it’s no use.

  “Answer me.” She pulls her wand away.

  With a gasp, my mouth falls open. “I don’t know.”

  Her face flushes red, making her skin appear almost magenta under the pulsing blue light. “The truth!” She backs away and points her wand at me again.

  My heart starts to pulse in my temples. “I—I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know.”

  “Mother,” Mac groans from the ground. “Just leave her alone. We can find another way.”

  Gemma’s face screws up in anger. “Enough of this.” She flicks her wand at me at the same time Charming shoves his hands out and mutters something under his breath.

  A white light shoots out and slices through the green light emanating from the tip of Gemma’s wand. It bats away the green light as if it’s nothing, and Gemma goes flying backward.

  She lands in a heap behind Mac. Charming grabs my hand. He tugs me back toward the fountain, and we jump in. Behind us, Gemma’s footsteps pad toward us. Charming stands right under the flow from Akasha’s cup and his lips begin to buzz with speech.

  Then the air around us stands still. No, it does more than that. It’s like it starts to vanish. I turn toward Gemma who is almost upon us, shouting something in Italian.

  The fountain disappears as if it were never there.

  “This is over,” she hisses with finality.

  From the look in her eyes, I know she’s right. With a wave of her wand, Charming and I are sucked up into a black whirlwind. Our feet leave the ground. The air thins even more. It’s like I’m sucking air through a straw, and the black ooze is back.

  I squint at Charming through the black smoke in time to see the ooze wrap itself around his mouth and hands. It does the same to me. I scream out for him, but it all comes out in gibberish.

  We’re snatched through the air and land hard on a cool, rocky surface. My body stands up with no help from me, and a chair slams into the back of my legs, forcing me to sit down. Before I can move, chains rattle and snake across the room. They wrap around my arms, my legs, around my throat. As soon as I’m wrapped up tight, the black ooze slides off my skin.

  Gemma stands before me in what I can only describe as some kind of dungeon. She smiles and taps her wand into the palm of her hand.

  Leaning forward, she says, “I’m going to forgive all the trouble you’ve caused tonight because you’re about to come in very useful.” She steps away and laughs.

  “Screw you, bitch,” I say over my own panting.

  She laughs like I just complimented her witchy attire. Ignoring her the best I can, I sweep my gaze across the room. It’s stark and empty. Above me, a low hanging light bulb casts the room in dim, yellow light.

  Charming is nowhere in sight.

  A door screeches open, drawing my attention. If I could move, I’d back the hell away. In the doorway is a pale, emaciated figure with unnatural blue eyes and slick skin. Water drips from her dark, purple-streaked hair, which sticks to her forehead like she just came in out of the pouring rain.

  She shuffles toward me with an unnatural gait. It’s like she’s been bedridden for months and is taking her first steps. When her mouth opens, rust colored water pours out.

  I twist around desperately in my chair, making the chains rattle.

  She’s one of them.

  One of the dead.

  And I have a feeling she’s here for me.

  15

  GEMMA’S LAUGHTER FILLS the cold, dead space. It fills me with something more slow-acting and chilling than fear.

  Dread. It sinks its cold teeth into me and wraps itself around my heart. The dead girl with water rippling out from her feet and dripping down her fingertips stops at Gemma’s side.

  “Kinsley,” Gemma says in a low voice. “Meet Reyna Morgan. Reyna, this is Kinsley.”

  Reyna lets out a wet moan. It sounds like she’s gargling way too much mouth wash. I know I’m bound to this chair with chains, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to get away. I struggle against the cool metal until it digs into my flesh, leaving red marks.

  “Well, I should go have a talk with my son. Let you girls get to know each other.”

  Panic wraps itself into my heart and flings my mouth open. “Wait!”

  Gemma turns to me, her hand against the back of the door.

  I glance from Reyna to her. “Please. Please don’t leave me with her. Please don’t do whatever it is you’re about to do.”

  Gemma’s head tilts to the side. “Why not?”

>   My mouth opens, but my tongue slips up. For a few seconds, I can’t think of anything to say to her. Finally, I shake my head. “Because I haven’t done anything to you.”

  She nods. “I know.”

  I stare at her. The evenness in her tone is scarier than if she were a raving lunatic.

  “Then why?”

  She sighs. “It isn’t personal, Kinsley. I just have to right a wrong done to a very powerful witch family.” She shrugs. “And for that, I need a body. One that won’t be missed.”

  Her words stab into me like a knife. My eyes narrow. “I would be missed.”

  Gemma raises an eyebrow. “Oh? By whom? Your drug dealer best friend, the lesbian, or your mother who pretends you don’t exist?”

  She smiles, and something twists in my chest.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in a low voice.

  She nods. “Sure, dear.” Raising her hands toward her head, she straightens her hat. “I really am sorry about this.” Then she ducks out of my sight and slams the door behind her.

  My eyes slowly find Reyna again. She’s shuffling toward me, leaning most of her weight on her left leg, her head falling to the side. It’s the kind of walk only the dead have. A wet groan pours out of her throat, and more dirty water comes dribbling out of the sides of her mouth.

  I start to struggle against the chains so hard that my chair screeches backward and the chains around my throat tighten, nearly cutting off my air supply.

  “Get away from me,” I cry as Reyna draws nearer.

  As if it’s opposite day for the dead, her prune like fingers reach for me and she lets out another groan-spittle combination. I lean as far away from her as I can, but that doesn’t stop her from gripping me by the shoulders.

  A wet, cold sensation washes over me, halting my breath temporarily in my lungs. The fabric on my jacket melts away under her touch, then her fingers sink into my shoulders. My flesh vibrates, then the kind of cold that burns into my skin.

  I let out a wail. “Get off me!”

  Reyna moans.

  “She said get off,” a male voice growls from behind her.

  Charming!

  A blast of white light fills the room. I shut my eyes against it, and something thuds into the wall on my right. When the light dies down, I slowly open my eyes. Charming is coming toward me, and Reyna is in a heap on the floor.