Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  And if I am crazy, then bitch, I'm far too wrapped up in my own hallucination to pretend I can just wish it away. After all, what is the definition of reality? It's the only nightmare you can't wake up from, that's what.

  "You don't like this Jensen guy, do you?" I ask, and Trick scoffs, shaking his head.

  "I don't like Crew or Jensen, and with good reason. While I risked my life to find you, this asshole sat in a remote cabin to wait. And Jensen ... who the fuck knows where Jensen went."

  Crew signs something long and complicated, and I find myself glancing over at Kumo to translate.

  "I don't speak his language," she tells me, letting go of the tree and spinning in midair at the same time she shifts, her body melting and reforming into the woman-like creature I met yesterday. "I do, however, take educated guesses. I'm fairly certain he just told the Eyes to fuck off."

  "His bullshit aside," Trick continues, glancing over at Kumo. Well, in her general direction at least. "What were you two doing hanging out a stone's throw away from one another?"

  "Everyone knows of the Dark Prince," Kumo says, her solid purple eyes unblinking as she stares down at the three of us. Her skin is a true white, not a colorless beige like my own. It matches the fur that decorates her legs, arms, and face, coming down in a widow's peak between her strange eyes. She's a little too other to be attractive, a little too obviously not human.

  "The Dark Prince?" I ask, as Crew gives me this cheeky little smile and reaches into his pack, pulling out a small, dark crown. He places the intricate metal circle over his white hair, and then tosses this satisfied look of male triumph in Trick's direction. Fortunately for him, Trick can't see it; it's infuriating.

  "Crew here fancies himself a royal because he's distantly related to the crown." Trick continues on, even though Crew is signing furiously. Must be frustrating, having to listen to another asshole spout his opinion when you're forever silent. "He's been wreaking havoc in the northernmost part of his 'family's' kingdom." Trick even makes little quotes around the word, like he's purposely trying to piss Crew off. "Why on earth would you seek a tyrant out?" he asks, directing his question to Kumo.

  "I was looking for someone with power," she replies, her own mouth turning up at the corners. "Seems I made the right decision."

  "And you knew Rayne's Sanshi was out there all along and did nothing? Seems about right." Trick gets out another cigarette and lights up the same way he did before. I don't get how he's getting so close to the fire without getting burned, but why don't we just say it's magic and let that mystery be for now.

  With a cough and a slight crack in his voice, Crew responds, his white hair going black as he pulls out a magnanimous grin and flashes it in my direction.

  "Without all three of my own Sanshi present," he purrs, his voice so deep and low that I actually get chills, "I wasn't sure. I didn't recognize her magical signature until I saw Rayne for myself." My entire body goes from cold to white-hot in an instant. The sound of that man's voice could burn the panties off an army. I can feel power in it, too, a storm that feels both familiar and foreign all at once.

  "What the fuck ever," Trick growls out, shoving up to his feet. "Doesn't excuse years of your other mistakes."

  "No, it doesn't," Crew says, signing out everything that he's saying as he talks. When he sees me studying the motions of his hands and fingers, he gives me a theatrical little wink. "But the goddess is here now–"

  "Because I brought her here," Trick inserts, making a muscle tick in Crew's neck. Apparently, though, he has the patience of a saint because he doesn't stop as Trick starts to pack up the few items that dot our little campsite.

  "The goddess is here now, and I'm fully committed to keeping her safe." He flicks his rose-colored eyes in my direction, letting his gaze sweep my body and then snap back up to my face. He opens his mouth to say something else, and a wave of energy just snaps back into me. No sound comes out as Crew's hair fades back to white.

  Oops.

  Instead of getting upset over it, he uses his gloved hands to sign something at me, and then taps at his temple with a single finger, like he's asking me to remember it.

  "Even if I were a goddess–which I'm not, so please don't get your panties in a wad over this–what exactly is my importance here?"

  This time, it's Bat Bitch that laughs at me, swinging her mane of white hair over one shoulder as she quite literally sashays over to stand next to me.

  "The Heavenly Goddess, along with her knights and her advisers, listens to the Three Corpses report back on the deeds of their hosts. She decides who lives and who dies, who deserves a visit from karma, and whether that visit should be ... fortuitous or dastardly."

  "Seems like the goddess hasn't been doing her job lately," I snort, and if Kumo had eyebrows, I'm sure she'd lift one in my direction.

  "No, she hasn't," she says as she cocks her head at me. "Because she's you. The last time you were caught, you spent millennia in shackles. I'd really rather not live that reality again. How about you?"

  I really have nothing to say to that.

  I'm not a goddess. I'm not.

  Because I don't think a goddess would be a snarky bitch on the outside ... and terrified on the in. Right?

  "I hope you're not expecting this to work the first time around," I say, smoking the magical cigarette that Trick's just handed me. Red smoke swirls from my lips while Trick manipulates it into a circle, just like he did before.

  "You have an unbreakable connection to Jensen," Trick says as he waits for an image to appear in the center of our little makeshift portal. "If we're going to find him in the vast infinity of the universe, we're going to need you to lead us to him."

  "Hopefully you mean I have a connection Jensen Ackles, because in that case, I'm sure my obsession would lead us right to him." Trick raises his brows high enough that I can see them above the line of his shades.

  "Supernatural joke. Nice. But legit, we're gonna have problems without Jensen. The only way to kill a devil is with sight, sound, and speech. If you were fully trained, then maybe we could pull it off. Maybe." Even without the use of his eyes, Trick seems to sense when the portal fills in, revealing this panoramic and rather picturesque view of an island chain. The water is this clear sky blue that frames the lush green color of the land like a frame.

  When he sticks his staff through, I see the little wolf appear on the end of it, sniffing the air, its fur rustled by a violent breeze.

  "Fuck," Trick curses, pulling his staff back through and spinning it in a tight circle. "What are we looking at here? Shima?"

  Crew reaches out and takes one of Trick's tattooed hands in his own, signing something against the other man's palm.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growls out as his wolf spirit curls itself around his shoulders. "Really Jensen? Really?" Trick fluffs up his dark hair and adjusts his shades. "The most hostile country in thirteen worlds, and this is where the asshole's hiding?"

  "You're worried about hostility? This portal is practically in outer space," I say, trying to stifle a surge of disappointment that I'm not looking down at Eugene. Yeah, sure, my hometown's been flooded by out-of-town hipsters from Southern California lately, but despite that horror, I still love the place.

  "You have wings now," Trick says, swinging one of his legs over the edge until he's sitting on the ring of red smoke like it's a bench. Shirtless, shoeless, and tatted as fuck, that asshole smirks at me, then throws himself over the edge.

  I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp and watch as Trick spins himself in midair until his feet are pointed toward the ground, his staff held out to one side. How he plans to land ... is beyond me.

  "Did I just watch a man commit suicide?" I ask, but Crew is reaching down and taking my hand at the same time that he shakes his head. He uses his grip on my fingers to place my hand over Kumo's.

  Oh.

  Wings.

  Heights.

  Fantastic.

  I'm not scared of heig
hts exactly, but what idiot wouldn't be nervous about leaping out of this thing? It's a self-preservation technique, not a phobia.

  "Shall we?" Kumo asks, the sweet scent of vanilla and berries wafting around me as she steps close. She curls her fingers through mine on either hand and then focuses that intense gaze right on my face. Oddly enough, it's like looking into my own reflection. I don't like that at fucking all. There's so much about my life, my past, myself that I don't want to see.

  "Do I have a good alternative choice?" I focus my gaze on Crew's, trying not to appreciate the soft smile he throws my way. After a moment of silence, I sigh. "Guess not. Let's do this."

  Kumo grins and presses her palms into mine. There's a bit of resistance, as you'd expect, before she just ... slides into me like smoke. The sensation is overwhelming, like slipping into a sweater that's covered in electrical nodes. The power shoots through me, making my head fall back, drawing a ragged gasp from my throat.

  The wings explode from my back, out the holes they made in the back of my shirt last night, stretching out against the cool breeze. Fur sprouts up on my forearms and calves; I can feel it. I don't have nearly as much of it as Kumo does, but for a woman who's always waxed, suddenly growing a fur coat is weird as hell.

  "When you're ready, jump. I'll take care of us."

  The bat's voice is inside my head again, like the gentle tolling of church bells in my skull.

  If Daniel were here ... Well, Daniel and his brothers would probably love the shit out of all this.

  But even with a voice trapped inside my own mind, I'm not sure that I've ever felt so alone.

  "Jump. Trust a demon to take care of me. I really am fucking crazy." Without giving myself any time to question, I tear my gaze away from Crew's, put my hand on the red smoke ring ... and throw myself inside of it.

  9

  I'm falling, and yet, even with my stomach in my throat, I don't feel like this is a new sensation. No, I've felt this before, when I was looking into the eyes of my parents and suffering at their hands, when I was locked up and shoved into a padded cell, when I ran into trouble on the streets that I was too drunk to deal with.

  That was all the same, all falling.

  Honestly, the sensation of my body plummeting through the air is almost comforting. Because now that I'm here, there's nowhere else to go. There's no worrying if I made the right decision, no wondering if I'm on the right path. I'm just ... here. In the moment.

  My wings spread wide of their own accord, catching me like a parachute. I can feel them, but I can also feel that at this moment, I'm not the one controlling them.

  Kumo stops our free-fall, leaving us to float gently down as I take in the cluster of islands and the perfect blue of the water. I swear, I can smell the sweet scent of tropical flowers already.

  In my effort to stretch and get comfortable, I accidentally flap my wings and restart our plummet towards a beach covered in white sand. True to her word, Kumo–quite literally–has my back, maneuvering our wings in such a way that when we land, we land as soft as a feather on the beach.

  Trick is already there, leaning against a strange palm-like tree and sucking on what looks like a coconut. I say looks like because I'm pretty damn sure that coconuts are not a pale yellow with dark yellow spots.

  "Took you long enough," he says, listening to the sound of my footsteps in the sand. He finishes drinking out of the coconut thing, tosses it aside, and then picks up his staff. That's how long it takes for Crew to join us, crashing into the shallow water in a crouch, like he's just jumped off a picnic table instead of a fucking cloud.

  How the two of them managed that shit without wings is beyond me.

  Magic, again, I guess.

  "Let's get out of here before they send an army." Trick turns and starts off into the jungle, like he knows exactly where he's going. Shit, maybe he does?

  "Who's the they this time?" I ask as Crew starts signing things in my direction. He then points up toward the tree line where just the hint of a large building can be seen. It looks like Himeji Castle, this traditional Japanese palace that Daniel did a puzzle of. He has it hung in our dining room. Well, he did, before our place got trashed, I guess.

  What the hell is he going to think when he walks in there and sees the damage?

  I know that man would fight to the ends of the earth to find me. Thing is, I'm not on the earth anymore, now am I?

  "Where are we going?" I ask, rubbing at the fur on my forearms and wondering how long I have to stay melded to Bat Corpse like this. Part of me likes it and doesn't want to separate at all. The rest of me ... hates it. There's even more power, energy, whatever, swirling around inside of me. I feel sick with the rush of it.

  "To buy new clothes," Trick says with a sigh, slogging through a dense, woody jungle in ratty jeans and no shoes. "No way that fur shit is gonna fly here; it'll give us away in a second."

  "Should I ... drop the wings then?" I ask, feeling totally and completely self-conscious in my new state. Inside my mind, I hear the soft whisper of feminine laughter.

  "Nah. Most people in Shima have their Sanshi purposely stripped, so they can do exactly what you're doing right now. At this point, you're the least conspicuous one in the group." Trick hops over a vine-y tangle and onto a smooth, white brick street. It weaves through the trees and down a hill. As soon as I step foot on it, I can actually see a town nestled in the lush, green landscape.

  It looks as medieval as Crew's outfit, only like, Asian instead of European. Sorry if that's not wildly specific, but I'm no history major. Hell, maybe it's nothing like any true Asian architecture, but what do I know?

  "Then once we have clothes ..." I hedge as I catch up to Trick, and Crew joins us on my other side. I keep bumping them with my wings, but every time I do, it feels fucking good, so I decide there's no point in stopping.

  "Then we ask around and see if we can't find out where Jensen's hiding. I have a few contacts here," Trick adds. Crew keeps signing away, and I realize that he's trying to teach me by signing everything that's said. How long does he expect me to be here anyway? It'd take a few months at the very least to teach me anything substantial, and even then, the sign language from this world would be useless back home.

  Then again, he thinks I'm a heavenly goddess that's destined to save the world, so who knows. Maybe he expects me to live here? Hell, maybe he expects me to live here with him.

  "There's a checkpoint up ahead," the wolf spirit says, appearing on the end of Trick's staff and swishing his tail, more like a cat than a dog. "I can smell it; take a side route."

  "Roger that," Trick says, taking an abrupt left turn down a narrow alley rather than continuing down what seems to be a main thoroughfare. We're not halfway down it when Trick pauses and glances over one shoulder. Instead of focusing his eyes in that direction, he tilts his right ear to listen. "They're following us, goddamn it."

  "There are more coming around the other side," the wolf–isn't its name Dunshi?–says. "Shall we take the roof?"

  Crew grabs Trick's hand, signs the word yes into it and then gestures for me to grab onto the orange-brown tiles of the nearby roof. Kumo takes over for a second there, putting me in this really awkward situation where it feels like I'm a marionette on strings. It doesn't actually bother me though. Instead, it feels like a gut reaction rather than control. My fingers grip the rooftop at the same time my wings shoot up, pushing down and giving me enough air to lift up and climb onto sun baked tiles. They are hot as hell, burning my skin as I scramble to my feet. Both Crew and Trick have zero problems leaping up to stand beside me.

  "This way," Trick says, and even though he can't see, he takes off at a full run for the edge of the building, using his staff to vault him over the edge and onto the next one. I follow along, putting way too much trust in Bat Bitch to get me over the gap. She comes through, using her wings in just such a way that even though my jump is pathetic, we go airborne for a moment and clear the space with feet to spare.


  Crew is right behind me, his cat Sanshi perched on one shoulder. It gives me a look and winks, but I think it's as mute as its master.

  We hop from roof to roof, like video games characters or something, moving steadily through the city. It's not until we jump down that we run into real trouble.

  Isn't that interesting, how life works. You think things are going poorly until they really start to go bad.

  Across a small courtyard, there's a door opening, and from inside, a funeral procession steps forth carrying a shrouded body on a wooden stretcher. The people holding the four corners are weeping and singing this haunting tune in a language I don't understand. Their robes are made of colorful, floral-printed silk, and their hair is done up in elaborate fashions.

  I'm enraptured by the melancholy beauty of the whole thing. At least, I am until four groups of soldiers converge on us, trapping us in the courtyard.

  "This is gonna get bloody," Trick says with a long sigh, lighting up a freaking cigarette as I stand there at gape at him. Instead of looking worried, he just seems resigned, but in a bored, almost frustrated sort of way.

  There's no time to even ask why he's not shitting his pants and praying to his gods.

  Dunshi, the little wolf spirit on the end of his staff, lets out this scream that I can feel all the way to my bones. The sound weaves through my veins and arteries, attaching itself to my insides, making me feel sick and weak and tired.

  When my knees give out, Trick is there to catch me, hauling me to his chest and squeezing me in an intimate sort of hug. Part of me likes it. The rest of me, not so much.