Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  The whole world tells me I'm crazy until ... I start believing it, too.

  "You are not special," the demon continues–I know its name is Yagi–as my mom bends down and grabs my right leg, making me scream as she drags me forward. "You are a bag of meat." Mom cracks my tiny leg in two until bone explodes from my skin, and the pain is so sharp and white-hot that I lose consciousness.

  As my mind fades to black, I can feel this empty, gaping hole inside of me.

  I'm alone, and I'll always be alone, trapped inside the nightmare of my own delusions.

  With a shudder, I shake myself out of that old pain, biting my lower lip until it bleeds. Honestly, thinking back on everything that happened to me with a clear–jumbled, but clear–head is making me question my entire existence. They told me I was crazy, those demons in my parents' heads; they encouraged the isolation, the medication, the asylums ...

  "You're so far inside your own head," Trick says, slowing his mount to run along beside me. Our legs brush at the calf, and I feel that wild whip of energy again. It's much more muted without skin-to-skin contact, but it's undeniable.

  "There are a lot of shut doors up there," I say, feeling my chest get tight. "And it's been years since I skipped even a single dose of my medication." Looking over at Trick, with a piece of leather tied over his face, a staff on his lap, I can't help but think of the triplets and how much I miss them. Shit, I haven't seen Doug or Dave in months, but now that I'm ... wherever the fuck I am ... with no phone, no computer, I'm suddenly sick for my best friends. "They're all starting to swing open."

  Trick is silent for long enough that his familiar–because isn't that what these Sanshi thing are?–starts to speak.

  "Just because a door is open doesn't mean you need to enter," the mini-wolf says, blinking its sightless eyes in my direction. I shouldn't be surprised to hear it talk; demons love to chat, taunt, and threaten even when they don't think anybody's listening.

  "Thank you, oh wise sage," I say, rubbing at my face again. Trick was right: I needed sleep. I could use about ten times more. The cold stings my eyes, making them water. Could be tears, but I haven't cried over my past in a long, long time.

  A hand reaches out for mine, fingers peeling mine apart and pushing a pair of shades between them.

  "Those'll help," Trick says, the little wolf wrapped around his shoulders and staring in my general direction. After a moment, it crawls down his chest, twines its body around the orb and disappears inside in a puff of smoke. Interesting.

  I put the sunglasses on before looking over at Crew, riding up on my left side. He doesn't say anything, but the way he lifts his chin and tilts his face to the wind, it seems like he's enjoying himself. There's no sign of his cat familiar either. Since Trick said his Sanshi was his weapon, I'm guessing it's the same for Crew.

  See No Evil ... Speak No Evil.

  So where is Hear No Evil dude?

  And what do the three of them want with me?

  "Why would my ... Sanshi be up on this mountain?" I have to yell out my question to compete with the wild storm, but they both hear me anyway. I've heard when a person loses one sense, the others get stronger. Maybe it's true?

  "You mean why were they stripped from you in the first place?" Trick says as Crew signs something quickly, making a swiping motion across his palm.

  "What does a sweeping gesture against an open palm mean?" I ask, just before Trick curses and grabs my arm in rough fingers.

  "It means get the fuck out of the way," he says, yanking me off my mount and into his lap. A bolt of something hits the creature I was riding and cuts straight through its flesh, splattering blood and guts across the snow. It's a macabre crimson painting across the virgin white. Steam rises from the melting snow as our own mount stumbles to the side and bays, tossing its head back to howl an anguished cry that tears my heart into pieces.

  Trick doesn't wait to see what might happen next, rolling us off the left side of the urutatsu and into the snow. The beast takes off, kicking up tufts of bloodied white flakes as it heads for a copse of white-capped trees on the right. Crew's mount follows, but he has zero issues sliding off the backside and landing in a crouch in the snow.

  He signs something over his left shoulder, his hand positioned like he's giving a high-five. He then moves his thumb away from and towards his palm. As soon as I explain this to Trick, he curses under his breath and grabs my hand in a grip so tight it hurts.

  "They're already here," he mumbles between curses, dragging me through the thick snow and toward a large outcropping of rock. Underneath, there's a soft, wet patch of dirt with tiny flowers. Their petals look like crystals, and if I weren't in the middle of a life and death situation, I'd find them quite pretty.

  As it is, the smell of blood and brain is making me sick. I can even taste it on the tip of my tongue, like I've just swallowed a bag full of old, copper pennies and bits of iron. Choking, I turn to the side and dry heave a time or two. It's not that the sight bothers me–I mean, it does, but I grew used to seeing blood a long time ago–it's just that the smell ... And the pure sound of grief that escaped the other beast's throat?

  My head is spinning, turning the already cluttered mess of my brain into a hoarder's worst nightmare. It's ironic that for the first time in years, my mind is clear, but my skull is a mess. I feel like an addict on a comedown, trying to figure out how to live without that last shot of poison.

  "Who's already here?" I choke out, turning to look at Trick. He has his staff gripped tight in his right hand, his body focused in the direction the of the two urutatsu. Crew joins us in a few, long strides and signs me three very clear letters.

  R-U-N.

  He points up the hill, turns, and then gestures for me to climb onto his back. Normally, I'd argue, but I'm snarky, not stupid. I can't run uphill in five feet of deep snow, especially when I don't know where I'm going or what I'm supposed to be looking out for. I climb onto Crew's back and try to ignore the wild flush of energy through me. It's so intense that I literally have to fight the urge to throw myself off and into the bloody snow.

  That sensation doesn't last long though, because Crew is beyond fast, moving up the side of the mountain at a speed that makes me wonder if those urutatsu mounts weren't simply for my comfort. Clearly, he doesn't need them. Trick, either. He's even faster than Crew, zipping up ahead of us like he's dancing on the surface of the snow.

  We hit a small outcropping, and I get this little carnal thrill when Crew's muscles bunch up and he jumps, grabbing the edge of the rock and pulling us both over the edge like I don't weight shit. My nipples pebble, and my stomach muscles tighten. It feels good, to have all this wild power bunching between my thighs. If only the context was different ...

  "Jorogumo," I start, because they keep tossing that name around, and I have yet to get much description beyond the term devil. To be fair, I feel like Trick is trying to educate me on what's going on. There's just so goddamn much. If I needed yet another reason to believe I wasn't crazy, it'd be the complexity of this hallucination. No way in hell I could make all this shit up. "What is it?"

  Crew pauses briefly to look out over the edge of the outcropping. As he does, he makes these wiggly motions with his fingers. It's pretty clear at that point what he's trying to say.

  Because in any world, a spider is a fucking spider.

  As if on cue, long black legs creep around the edge of the rock face. A woman's body follows, dangling like a marionette from the monstrous appendages. She's pale, with long, dark hair, her silken robe fluttering around her as the spider's legs move. It's enough of a shock to get over a spider the size of a bus. It's a whole other issue when you realize the dangling women is part of the spider. The legs are coming out of her fucking back.

  As soon as she's within sight of us, her head snaps up, revealing eight glittering eyes, and a small pale pink mouth.

  "What in the ever-loving fuck ...?" I start, but Crew is already moving again, heading in the opposite directi
on with Trick just ahead of us. The snow is so thick, I can hardly tell where the edge of the cliff begins. At any moment, I could see Crew's foot slipping on some loose drift and sending us tumbling down the side of the mountain.

  Besides, there's no way in fuck we can run all the way to the top. Standing down here at the base of the mountain, it's like looking up at Everest. It'd take days to get up there on foot. Crew and Trick keep going though, totally unfazed by either the storm or the giant spider chasing after us.

  And to think I could be back home, getting up and getting ready for work.

  Not sure if I'm lucky ... or totally screwed.

  The shades protect my eyes from the flurry, but it's impossible for me to see where we're going. I have no idea how Crew is managing to carry me, himself, and the sword on his back that's as tall as I am. But when he finally does stop and drop me to my feet in the snow, he doesn't look tired. Instead, he smiles and points up at nearby tree. There's a bat hanging there, a white one, with its wings spread wide. If it wasn't silhouetted against the green and brown branches of the pine tree, and if Crew hadn't pointed it out to me, I don't think I'd have seen it at all.

  "Do you see it?" Trick asks, pausing and tilting his head to the side. "Because we've got about ... twenty seconds before that thing turns the corner on us."

  "I see it," I say, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do now. There's a bat a hundred feet up in a tree in the middle of a snowstorm. Supposedly, it's a demon, but demons and me ... we don't have a great history together. "Now what?"

  "Bind it," Trick says as Crew moves back down the side of the mountain about a hundred foot, removes his sword from his back, and faces down the spider woman as she turns the corner. As soon as she sees him, her perfect round mouth opens up to reveal two massive fangs. "Bind your Sanshi, and we'll get the fuck out of here." Trick whips out a cigarette from the leather satchel on his hip, lights up, and starts smoking. "Close your eyes and focus on all that wild energy swirling around inside of you." He points the cig up at the sky, at the dark mess of violet and navy and black. The flurry of white wind obscures the stars, but I get the analogy. What's happening out here is like a mimicry of what's happening inside of me. "Pull it all together and focus it into one spot."

  I do what he's telling me, what he tried to tell me in the casino, but I have no idea what I'm doing. Not only is this entire world unfamiliar to me, but I'm not used to being off my medication. I feel like I'm coming unhinged.

  "Just relax and breathe in deep," Trick says, moving close enough to me that I can feel his body heat. He puts his hands on the sides of my face, this spicy male scent cutting through the icy grip of the snow and ice. "Pull all of that power together and focus it into the demon. She's a part of you, something that was stripped away; this should be easy." I feel a fingertip run across my lower lip and shudder. Even in the blizzard, I feel a hot heat tease its way across my skin. "You did it with me, with Crew. Just one second of connection between you and the Sanshi, and we can get the fuck out of here. She's your familiar, a literal piece of your soul."

  With my eyes shut tight, I really can feel the energy surrounding me, wrapping me like a cocoon. This is what magic feels like? I think, just before a scream sounds out from my left, and my eyes snap open. Flicking my gaze in Crew's direction, I see the tip of his sword jutting through the spider woman's chest. Blood sprays out in a ruby-red arc, melting the snow around him. There's a brief moment of triumph that fills me before the creature stumbles and collapses into the snow.

  Thing is, that only lasts so long as it takes a second, third, fourth, and fifth spider woman to come around the corner.

  "Jesus," I grumble as Trick turns my face back toward his, pushing the black leather strip away from his eyes and staring at me with those almond-shaped orbs of his. If I look closely, I can see the outline of a very pale iris and pupil beneath the milky white, gold flecks dancing across the surface of his gaze.

  "Focus on your Sanshi, and we can go." Gently, he closes my eyelids with his thumbs, and then holds me there, warming my face up with the palms of his hands. I do my best, imagining that all this energy inside of me is just snow. I'm the wind; it's my job to organize it into one spot.

  Even that metaphor is ruined though, torn apart by the claws of old memories.

  "You're less than dirt," Dad says, his lips moving as the creature on his shoulder scowls at me, smoking a pipe and grinning with wide, horrible teeth. It clacks its alligator-like jaws at me, the face of an opossum staring down with a mischievous twinkle. But this thing, it's just a mimicry of a possum. No animal has that much hate, that much malicious joy, in its gaze. "Less than dirt," he repeats, shoveling another heap of rocks and soil onto my chest. I can hardly breathe already, with all that weight.

  My only hope in that moment is that he won't bury me alive.

  "Rayne!" Trick shouts, pushing his mouth up against mine. It's hot and sweet at the same time, his tongue sliding across my own and waking up every sleeping part of me. All of that energy coalesces inside my mouth, and I stumble back with a sharp gasp. Power explodes with the sound, carried by the wind up to the ears of the bat-creature hanging above our heads.

  I know as soon as it touches her; I can fucking feel it.

  "It's about time, no?" a feminine voice asks, just before she tucks her wings and dives straight for me. At first, I think she's going to bank at the last minute, fly over my right shoulder. Instead, she hits me dead-on in the center of my chest.

  That's the last thing I remember.

  7

  Pushing myself up from the ground is a serious chore. My head feels like it's not screwed on straight, the blood sloshing around inside my skull like waves on a beach. Unfortunately, each crash seems to take my brain along for the ride, giving me a migraine to rival anything I've ever felt, even in my uh, rather formative teenage party years.

  There's grass beneath my fingers, silky and green, and when I finally get the energy to crack my tired lids open, I see sunshine.

  Clearly, we've world-hopped again.

  See, even a crazy bitch like me can get the hang of stuff after a while.

  My back muscles are taut, and my shoulders are killing me. As I sit up, I get an idea as to why, exactly, that is.

  "What on God's green earth?" I choke out as the bat wings attached to my shoulders stretch and then relax onto the ground behind me. The weirdest part of all is that I can feel myself moving them, like an arm or a leg, an appendage that I'm just used to having. But, uh, pretty sure I've never had wings before.

  "Relax. Your anxiety is giving me a headache, and I don't scare easily." That dark, sultry feminine voice laces its way through my tired brain as I scramble to my feet and run my hands down my tummy. There are claws on the tips of my fingers, fur on my fucking forearms, and a cascade of white hair down my back that most certainly wasn't there before.

  "What is all of this?" I choke out, feeling my body move in ways it never has before. I feel utterly weightless. In fact, the jacket I'm wearing almost hurts, tugging on my sensitive skin and making me fall to my knees in the grass. I shrug it off at the same time I stretch my wings.

  My wings.

  Good God.

  "Everyone is born with Three Corpses inside of them," Trick says, sitting next to a burn-out campfire with his staff across his thighs. He's staring into the flames, even though I know he can't see them. "Having them stripped from you is a nightmare; getting them back is a blessing." He leans forward, his taut muscles sliding smoothly beneath the vivid art that decorates his arm. He takes a spit away from the fire pit and hands it over to me. The meat is still warm from the embers, but I'm not hungry.

  Sorry, but growing a pair of wings tends to stifle a person's appetite.

  "When your Sanshi are restored, they have a natural tendency to want to live inside of you again." Crew appears from the bushes while Trick is talking, pausing to sign something that's almost certainly a sex joke. I might not know sign language, but a finger
sliding into a hole is pretty easy to understand. I narrow my eyes, nostrils flaring, but I'm too freaked out to bother with a comeback. "Only, once they're stripped, they can never fully integrate with you again." Trick pauses suddenly, fingers tightening on his staff. The little wolf is back and sitting on the end of his staff. It sniffs the air and then taps its tail against the back of Trick's hand before he finally relaxes. "Probably a deer," he mumbles, mussing up his ebony hair with his fingers. The corner of his mouth quirks up as he looks my direction. "Anyway, you can only partially integrate now. This is what that looks like."

  Trick stands up and moves over to me, reaching out and brushing his fingers down the fur on the outside of my forearm, trailing down to my new claws, and presses his fingertip against one just hard enough to draw a drop of blood.

  "So far," he says, moving his hand to touch one of my wings, "I like the look."

  His fingers brush the leathery appendages on my back, making me shiver. There's that cruel but beautiful exchange of energy, too, reminding me that this guy tongued me just before I passed out. It's been a while since I've been kissed, especially like that. There was passion and wild energy in the way his mouth moved against mine. I should probably punch him for kissing me out of nowhere, but in the interest of supernatural affairs, I'll let it go.

  "Is this permanent?" I manage to choke, just seconds before I feel like this horrible tearing sensation, like my body's being cut in half. A scream escapes from me as the wings rip from my skin, sending me stumbling forward into Trick's arms. I have to say, as painful as it is, there are worse places to be.

  "Is it permanent?" a voice says from behind me, and I jump as the white bat lands on my right shoulder. "Should I be offended? It sounded like you were looking for a no in response to that question."