Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  3

  The sound of cats howling and sirens filled my ears, my head pounding something fierce. I lay there on the hard surface, my skin hot and a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. My skin stung with a deep-rooted heat. Soft music sounded around me, pulling me into a deep, relaxing sleep.

  “Shit, we’re losing her,” a male voice sounded as if from above me, so close yet so very far away. My chest ached, and my lips burned, and that music coaxed me toward it, ever so gently. I wanted to go to it, my body ached for it.

  “Not now,” the same voice swam in my mind. “Not now, not like this.” It was familiar, and I found myself being drawn back toward that raspy voice and away from the luring music.

  I gasped a scalding, painful breath as my eyes flung open, my chest heaving as the air seared my lungs. I panted, lying on my back, staring up at the baby blue cloudless sky that peaked through the charred wooden beams above me. My eyes streamed as I struggled to breathe, the whispers of music and calls of the three cats slipping farther and farther from my memory with every waking breath.

  “Thank the beasts above,” the voice said, a heavy mass collapsing beside me.

  I lay there for a long moment, both disoriented and in pain. Everything hurt, my eyes stung, my head throbbed, my chest burned… “Where am I?” I finally managed to say, my voice so rough and unfamiliar amidst the sounds of the surrounding sirens.

  The man laughed and sat up, staring down at me with piercing, blue eyes. “You just escaped hell, you lucky little shit.”

  My mouth hung open as I stared up at the firefighter, charcoal smudges across his strong jaw, his face drawn together with worry. “Tom?”

  He blinked down at me and shrugged, offering a hand to pull me upright. I accepted it gratefully, slowly rising to my feet, my head swimming as I moved. When I finally held myself steady, I took in my surroundings. The place was familiar, though was so burned and destroyed I could hardly tell where I was. The remaining few charred beams fell to the floor behind me, crunching in the black debris, sending a cloud of hot soot billowing around my burnt, bare feet. I stood in silence for a long moment, watching the remnants of the space around me crumble to the ground. I then sucked in a quick breath. “My juice shop.”

  Tom nodded and stepped aside, letting me take a look around. “We normally wouldn’t allow anyone inside, but seeing as there isn’t anything left to fall…”

  I nodded slowly, only half listening. I wandered over to what was left of the bar, splinters of dark, broken wood standing upright against the shattered glass of the shop’s wears. My eyes burned, but I had no tears left. “What happened?”

  Tom came to join me, followed by a second fireman, this one less covered in soot than his companion. “Everything okay over here?”

  I blinked up at him, my eyes fixed on his. I knew him, too. “Hi,” was all I managed to say. What were the guys doing in my juice bar in Portland?

  The sandy-haired man offered a small smile, hardly meeting his eyes. He was handsome, his muscles lean and his form tall, unlike Tom who stood broad and chiseled, tattooed and hardened. How did I know these men, again? My head pounded so hard, I could hardly think.

  “The paramedics want to see you,” the second man said, motioning toward what used to be the entry wall. “The police, too, but I think you’d best go to the ambulance out there first to get cleaned up.”

  I nodded slowly, my mind numb. I followed them out of the building, trying to remember how I had even gotten there to begin with. I had a faint memory of a fire, my apartment walls burning. I then slowed, my memory returning to me somewhat. How I had gotten to the juice shop was beyond me. Had the fire spread that far? “The cats,” I managed to croak through my dry throat. “Are the cats okay?”

  Tom blinked at me, his brow furrowed together tightly as he stared at me. I watched him catch a quick glance to the other fireman, who quickly turned back to me and nodded. “Sure. Yeah, the cats are fine.”

  I let out a slow breath, relieved, and followed them out front to the waiting ambulance. “Wait. What about Agatha?” Somehow, I knew they would know what I was talking about.

  The pale-haired man’s face dropped. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, no. Haven’t heard anything yet.”

  Worry filled my chest as my heart sunk. I couldn’t remember how long she had been missing, but my mind grew anxious now that I remembered. “I need to find her.” I felt for my phone in my pockets, but they were empty.

  My breathing began to quicken, and Tom placed his large, steady hand on my back and guided me out from the burned-down juice shop and toward the ambulance. “You can find Agatha later. First, you need to get checked out by the paramedics.”

  “Right, fine,” I replied, obliging. I followed him to the ambulance, but the paramedics seemed busy with someone inside, already. “Wait a second. What are you guys doing here in Portland?” I tugged away from Tom’s grip, my eyes set on his own steady expression. “You live in Salem, don’t you?” Salem… My memory flickered, but the thought vanished before I could grasp it.

  “Why do you think?” The dark-haired man’s broad shoulder lifted into a half shrug as I gaped at him, confusion setting in yet again. “Think, Price.”

  And I did. I stood there for a long while as the paramedics stormed around us, flashing lights from the surrounding police cars sending a wave of nausea through me. They looked just like the lights from my nightmare. Not that the smoking scenario around me was much better. I think I was still in shock. I let out a deep breath and steadied myself, hugging my arms to my chest. My brain must still be addled from the nightmare and the fumes from the fire. “Nevermind, ignore me.”

  But Tom continued to stare as if waiting, waiting for me to come to some conclusion that I had no possible way to come to. “You know why we’re here.”

  I shook my head again. “Right, the fire. Sorry.” But something nagged at the back of my mind, the colored lights still pressing on my memory like a vice. Squeezing my eyes shut, I massaged my temples. “Where did you say the cats went? They’re safe, right? I saved them?”

  The blonde man whose name I couldn’t quite remember came to join us, his face somber. “You did, Pricetag. You saved all three of them.” He held my gaze, his eyes so intense I nearly had to step back.

  Another spur of memory, faded and distant and just out of grasp. We shared that look for a long few seconds, the nickname tugging at the farthest reaches of my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words than I immediately understood.

  “Mrs. Jones?” A deep, familiar voice pulled me from my lost thoughts. “You are Mrs. Jones, correct?”

  I turned toward Officer Fitzgerald, my lips curling. “Oh, hey Bert. How are you doing?”

  His lips tightened as he peered at me, his face none too amused. “It’s Office Fitzgerald, and you need to come with me, please.”

  My eyebrows raised at his words. It wasn’t like him to be so formal. Tom and his companion stepped in front of me, their muscles tensing as they glared down at the officer. Tom’s voice came out a growl. “She needs to be seen by the paramedics. You’re not taking her anywhere.” I could have sworn there was an air of protectiveness in his voice. I took a step back, observing curiously.

  “She looks fine to me,” he said before turning back to me. He raised his handcuffs to my face, jingling them. “Either come voluntarily, or I’ll make you come by force, either way is fine by me.”

  I took another step back, my eyes opening wide. “Excuse me? What are you even talking about?” His eyes flickered behind me to the burned down juice shop, and I followed his gaze, swallowing hard. “Is this about the shop?”

  “What else would it be about?” His voice was gruff, no-nonsense. The look in his eye told me he meant business. “Come with me, Mrs. Jones.”

  I knew better than to make him ask again. A quick glance to Tom and the sandy-haired firefighter told me that wherever he was taking me, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. They b
oth steeled as I walked past, their gazes lingering on me as I allowed myself to be lead into the police car.

  I watched them disappear behind me as the car drove off, his sirens blaring above us as we sped down the road. “Is that absolutely necessary?” I asked him. I didn’t know what he was playing at, but I knew I didn’t like it. “Is this about Agatha? Have you heard anything more? I got your message…”

  “What message?” he asked, evidently quite unimpressed with my questions. He stared forward, not bothering to even catch my eye in the rear-view mirror as I stared up at him, confused. This wasn’t like the normal Bert I remembered. Why was everyone acting so darn weird?

  I let out a breath, rubbing my eyes as a profound exhaustion set in. “The message you sent me about Agatha,” I explained. The message on the phone I lost in the damn fire. “I got it before being woken up by the fire in bed.”

  He blinked silently, never once breaking his eye contact with the road ahead. After a long, tension-filled minute, he finally spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t know what bed you’re talking about, there was none anywhere near the fire.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued, his voice growing dark. “And if you know what’s good for you, Mrs. Jones, I would hold your tongue. Or at least get your story straight, and quick. That lippy attitude of yours won’t do you any favors in front of the judge.”

  My blood turned ice cold. “What judge?” I managed to say.

  A long, chilling silence hung in the air. “The one eager to put you away for burning down your business, Mrs. Jones.”

  4

  From then on, I was sure I was living in my worst nightmare. As we approached the courthouse, my entire world was turned on its head.

  Cameras from the media flashed in my eyes as I was dragged through the side door of the large, stone building. I cringed with each flash, memories of my dream causing bile to creep up my throat. By the time we were inside, and the sounds of the outdoor crowd dimmed, an icy, cold dread took over.

  “What’s this about?” I managed to whisper, my heart thumping against my chest. But before I even had a chance to think, I was being whisked away and dragged through a dark hallway by people in uniforms I didn’t even know and tossed through a large wooden doorway and onto some sort of strange wooden dais. My sight was temporarily blinded by the lights of the large room, but when my vision cleared, I couldn’t help but gasp.

  The entire courtroom was filled with people. Angry and unfriendly-looking people. They all stared up at me as if I had done something terrible. I swallowed through the rising bile in my throat and turned to the judge who coughed quietly from nearby. My jaw dropped. “Bianca?”

  The tall, white-haired woman ignored my question and preceded to explain why I was brought in front of her. My heart sank with every passing word. “Miss Jones, you stand before us here on trial for arson. Is there anything you have to say for yourself before we get started?”

  I stared at her, eyes wide. That was Bianca, wasn’t it? Tall, slim frame, perfectly styled grey hair, sharp, steel-grey eyes. She raised her perfectly arched brow at me as I stood there staring. When did she become a judge? I finally shook my head slowly. “No, I don’t understand. I didn’t burn anything down, it was an accident… I wasn’t even there.”

  Bianca pursed lips together, distinctly unimpressed with anything I had to say. She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and turned back to the sea of people who huddled close together, staring up at me. I stopped, frozen in place as my wandering gaze fell upon a familiar face. Gerard.

  And his new fiancée.

  The memories flooding my mind felt like being waterboarded. No wonder the picture frames in my room were empty, he had moved on, the jerk. Not that the frames would have survived the fire, anyway. Good bloody riddance.

  Gerard’s new bride-to-be was standing there looking up at me, a broad smile spread across that pinched little face of hers, her hair pulled back tight in a bun. She clung to him, and when I took in the full sight of her, my blood ran cold. She stood there in her wedding dress, veil and all… wearing the same ring he had given me not even that long before. She winked at me, and I wanted to vomit.

  “What the…” I began, but the judge cleared her throat, and I turned to face her yet again. I squinted my eyes, looking at her closely. I knew it was her. “Bianca, it’s me. You know me. I’d never do anything like this. This whole thing is absurd. What am I even doing here?”

  She ignored me. “Our first witness is Gerard. Stand forward, please.”

  Gerard stepped forward, his clinging bride never once leaving his side. He looked up at me and frowned, that familiar, cocky face of his sending a wave of nausea through my body. “Thank you, Your Honor.” What was he doing here at my trial?

  Wait. Why was I even on trial?

  I squeeze my eyes shut and rubbed them with the palms of my hands, willing myself to breathe, to think. His voice was loud, soothing somehow in an assertive way, and deep down something stirred within me. Something screamed at me from inside my mind, telling me to run. Glancing behind me, though, I could plainly see there was no way to run, police officers standing everywhere, stationed at every exit. I began to sweat, my skin growing hot. Too hot.

  Gerard finally spoke. “I am Price Jones’ ex-fiancé. Part owner of the juice bar and I can tell you I had nothing to do with this mess.” His eyes were wild, and I swore I could see fire burning within that piercing stare of his. Fire just like the one that burned down my store. “First thing I saw this morning on the news was the place burning down, and when I went to see for myself, I saw Price standing there, the only one around.”

  I stared at him, my mind growing numb. Gerard recounted lie after lie, his expression growing more pleased with every passing falsehood. I heard the judge say something about insurance and fraud, but I could no longer process the words. I stood there, my skin cold as I listened to her prepared to sentence me, words like jail and life in prison and forever behind bars all echoing around me, eventually losing meaning as I slumped against the railing around me. With every sentence she spoke, Gerard and his fiancé grew more smug-looking.

  Their grinning faces weighed heavy on me, my heart aching as I caught his eye. There was no love there. There was just vindication and a painful pleasure that ate away at my insides, making me want to curl in a ball and close my eyes and wish that all of this was nothing more than a nightmare. It felt so surreal.

  “Prison…” The judge's words came again, this time more final. This was it, I was done for. I wracked my brain but couldn’t even come up with a semblance of an alibi.

  I would never survive in prison. I didn’t even think they served vegan meals in jail. I stood there for what felt like far too long, the air around me pressing down on my shoulders when I caught sight of a familiar face. Eyes narrowing, my eyes chased the strange, large feline form of the man’s head.

  My hands fell to my sides, my palms going clammy. It was the host of the game show from my dream. My nightmare. I gaped at him, looking around the room to see if anyone else noticed him. But no one seemed bothered by the sizeable strange man who sat among the crowd, awaiting my sentencing. Something stirred at the back of my mind.

  The smoke really must have addled my brain causing me to hallucinate.

  I raise my hand to catch the judge’s attention, but she ignored me, blabbering on with the endless list of things I was being accused of.

  “Does anyone else see?” I begged. No one responded, no one even seemed to notice that I’d spoken. I took a small step back, hardly able to move more than a step, and I notice my hands were shackled to the metal bar in front of me. Eyes wide, I began to shake. When had I been cuffed? My thoughts whirred within my mind, confusing and overwhelming and no help at all. “Please,” I pleaded, louder this time. My voice came out a desperate cry. What the hell was going on here? I was confused, panicked, terrified. No one seemed to care, no one seemed even notice.

  A throat cl
eared, and the murmuring in the crowd quieted. The judge looked up, and my eyes trailed to see where she was watching. The host from my dream stood, clearing his throat again. “In addition to your final list of items this woman is accused of,” the cat-headed man said, stepping forward to the crowd. His voice sent a chill down my spine, and I bristled as he moved toward us. The judge looked up at him expectantly, a slight twitch in her lips pulling them up into a snarl. The man dabbed his brow with a bright yellow handkerchief, his smile broad as he looked at the judge. “I have it upon good knowledge that this woman here is also a witch.”

  A loud gasp made its way across the audience, and my brow furrowed. All eyes were on me as I stood there, my face growing pale. “Wait, what? This is absurd…” Tears began to blur my vision, burning my eyes as I blinked through them, shaking my head. This must be some sick joke, something Gerard and his conniving little fiancé planned just to mess with me. It had to be. When no one laughed at the accusation, my throat tightened to the point of hardly being able to breathe. How could this even be a question? What were we, in a movie?

  I turned to the judge. “I’m not a witch!” The fact I had to even claim that baffled me.

  I pulled my hands from the cuffs, but it was no use. I looked down at my aching hands, the bruises still there from slamming them against the glass of the cage. I swallowed hard as I stared down at my sore hands, wondering if all of it had never actually been a dream. Could it all have been real? Part of Gerard’s joke?