Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  Silence claimed the room again, a heavy and oppressive thing, entwined with guilt, grief and self-recrimination.

  She met my eyes; hers were glassy windows to an inner turmoil I could understand. “I thought I was doing something good, but it looks like all I did was put a weapon in the hands of evil.”

  “So he seemed legit?” I steered clear of further morbid thoughts, sticking to the facts.

  “Yeah, he seemed...concerned for his friend. Pretty good act. He had me convinced.” A scowl of self-disgust.

  “You can’t blame yourself. You weren’t to know.” I found I actually believed those words. Found it comforted me as well. I was relieved. I didn’t blame her or hate her. We were both caught up in something I had yet to understand.

  “He gave me a sketch of what he wanted. Any metal and I would’ve picked something up. But it was a piece of paper.”

  “Do you still have the sketch?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get it for you-“

  “Leave it for now, relax a bit, tell me...what would be the reason for the splinters to break off?” I was curious about those tiny pieces. Shiny little clues left behind, crumbs for us to follow.

  “Well, I’d made the claws for ornamental reasons, not as a weapon so I didn’t finish the edges as I would have for a blade meant for combat.” So simple.

  “It was still sharp enough...” I refrained from completing the sentence. Now my skin iced over, hair stood on end.

  I placed the packet on the polished wood on the table. It lay between us like an island. Somewhere where danger waited in silent glee, and one step onto it brought with it a mortal price. Tara stared at the glinting metal shards, as if they were alive and would jump out at her any second. She met my eyes, as if hoping I would change my mind, and knowing at the same time I wouldn’t, and neither would she.

  “Could you? Please? Just to see if you can sense anything else. Get a better idea of who was involved.”

  Tara’s head moved, one jerky nod, as if she couldn’t complete the full movement. She grasped the packet with shaky fingers, and tipped the contents onto her palm for the second time this evening.

  Outside, the streetlights shone and cars chugged by. A bird cried a twilight farewell. Nobody knew how grief bound two girls together at this table. Two strands of mourning, vengeance and guilt entwined into one dark skein.

  So far removed from school rooms and homework and summer holidays. My thoughts flicked to Anjelo and his absent self, to Lily and her anger toward me. To the hot young agent who haunted my steps and my thoughts. Would he long to be home, shooting hoops with his dad, rather than doing serious work for his supposedly non-existent agency? What was wrong here that we traded our youth for deadly misadventure?

  Tara sighed, resigned. Closed her hand around the pieces, careful not to break the flimsy shards as she opened her mind to accept any message the metal held.

  Eyes clamped shut, Tara thrust her other hand to me and I grabbed it. Offering a lifeline, support, forgiveness maybe. Her lids moved, grotesque in their wild rolling.

  “Talk to me,” I urged her. I wanted to make the process easier for her and if talking helped I wasn’t going anywhere. It didn’t matter what she said either. She was my friend. For a moment, I was torn between the desperate need to end her misery, and the urge to pry open her clenched fist and end its contact with her skin. But at the last moment I stopped. For one selfish reason - Clancy.

  “It’s a hospital, I think? It’s cold, green tiles. So cold.” Tara sucked in her breath. “He’s a doctor, I think.”

  Suddenly I knew what she was seeing. The Morgue during the autopsy.

  “Can you go further?” I wasn’t sure how her talent worked when accessing the memories of the metal she held. “In the past? Or deeper.” I knew I probably sounded idiotic and may interfere with Tara’s connection in some way if I said or did something wrong.

  Silence again.

  “She’s dead. And then he’s cutting her. Slashing her with the claws. But she’s dead. No, no...”

  “Can you see his face?” My heart knocked in my throat. I wondered if her link to the metal allowed Tara to see or feel the location but it seemed to me then that it would be asking too much.

  “Not a face...feelings.” I hid my disappointed and waited for her to continue. “He’s angry. Blood in his thoughts. He wants something. He’s desperate and violent. He’s...insane. So much anger and hate. And...frustration. They brought him the wrong girl. He’s furious. He tells them to leave her at your apartment as a message.”

  A memory clicked into place, like a puzzle piece finding its way home. My hoodie from Clancy’s office. A piece of clothing strong with my scent. How easy to think they’d gotten me when she’d reeked of Alpha Walker. My body hurt, ached for Clancy; it was my fault after all. I sagged, energy flowing out of me. I just wanted to give in and cry. But I couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. Not when I could still make him pay.

  I watched her expression change as another vision flickered through her mind’s eye.

  “There’s something else from before.... He likes the claws. He’s happy, excited. – There’s a woman too. She holds it - I feel her anger.” Tara paused, a small cry left her lips as tears slid out from under eyelids still scrunched shut. “She’s in so much pain. Her body and her mind. And her rage-oh my-no.”

  I was transfixed. It seemed Tara absorbed every facet of emotion transferred to the metal. I paused to feel sympathy for her. What must it be like to see so deeply into another person’s mind? I shook the thought out of my head.

  “Do you have any idea what she looks like?”

  “I remember her - the woman, she came with Brand to order the claws. She was angry then too.”

  “Anything that gives you a sense of where they are?”

  “Nothing-just feelings. Not locations.”

  “Okay.” I rose to my feet and cleared the table of coffee cups. Tara just sat there quietly. “I’ve got to get going. Are you going to be okay? Do you need me to stay?”

  “No, you go. I’m fine.” I narrowed my eyes. She stood up and walked over to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “I promise, I’m fine.”

  I gave her a quick hug and left her there. Left her to the empty house and to her cold dark thoughts. And I hoped she really was fine.

  I was somewhat satisfied. We had an idea of who helped to get Clancy killed. I wondered again who this hate-filled woman was. This group of Walkers was a rebellious and dangerous lot. Their violence and anger was spilling over into my life and the lives of my friends.

  We had Brand identified already, and I would make him pay. I found my fists clenched of their own accord, and my nails cut into my palms deeper than I realized. I opened them when I felt moisture. I stared, shocked, at the four small, deep cuts lining the centre of each palm. My feline claws that had slipped past my mental barrier, totally undetected.

  I was fuming. Even my ears were hot and that was not a good sign, especially when I was royally pissed off at myself. Until now, I would never have suspected myself as being guilty of naiveté. Not me, an experienced killer no less. I may not be a full blown worldly-wise adult but I knew a thing or two about danger. Yet somehow I seemed to have nurtured this infantile belief that all Walkers were essentially good at heart. Just because we were different from Humans didn’t mean we were all good. So easy to believe it was the Humanity in us poisoning our essentially good natures. Excuses. And prejudices.

  Evil lurked everywhere. Tempted everyone.

  The concept of Walkers being as good or bad as any Human, was a new one. I’d been taught Humanity was particularly unique in their ability to abuse each other. Perhaps it was the Humanity in the innate nature of this Skinwalker that had taken over him over.

  I made a call to Logan, and we arranged to meet at O’Hagan’s, a local bar, busy and noisy with no place to get distracted by tall dark and hot anything. There were too many things he needed to know and I couldn’t afford to get distracted.r />
  * * *

  Logan got to O’Hagan’s within minutes of Kailin and settled into a table by the window.

  She quickly ran over what Tara had told her about the metal slivers and the look on Logan’s face turned dark. He’d kept back some of the slivers to do the very same thing; sent them on to Omega’s metal singer. But at least with Kailin’s friend Tara, she knew the name to match the images the metal singers got from metal.

  With a sigh, he leaned against his backrest. “So we’re looking for a Walker – Brand - who is quite likely the killer.” He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of a Walker killing like this before.”

  “You and me both,” she answered, fiddling with her lemonade.

  “Now that we have a name, just let me get some backup organized and we can go in.”

  “Wait? Why do we have to wait? We need to act now,” she snapped, frustrated and upset. Logan wondered if she had any intention of waiting. She was feisty, and independent. And he could understand how she felt but it was her safety he was concerned about. “I had Brand’s name from Hiro. I should’ve done something about it then. If we’d caught him then Clancy would still be alive…”

  “Look, you don’t know that Kailin. Don’t be rash about this. Omega has a team, not to mention fire-power. The smartest thing to do is wait. And it won’t be for long. I’ll get it arranged tonight and give you a ring.”

  “But if he’s there now we’ll have missed our opportunity because we waited for your team to organize itself.” She glared at Logan and he knew her frustration.

  “I understand how you feel. But wait. Please. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll meet you there myself if Omega takes too long.”

  “Fine,” she agreed and sipped her drink. Logan’s eyes narrowed. He thought he detected a hint of insincerity in her voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A half hour later I huddled behind a rusted truck, scanning the dark entrance to an abandoned warehouse which loomed before me like the black mouth of Hell.

  Logan had failed to convince me to wait for him. To go in together. It had taken Clancy’s murder to get me to wake up. And Tara’s revelation had spurred me on.

  I wasn’t planning on wasting a moment more.

  Meeting Brand was a task I relished, but didn’t look forward to doing on my own. My killer instinct was driving me wild. I wanted to terminate him the very same way I did my more difficult kills. A scimitar to the neck, and my little beauty was sharper than a samurai sword only because of the beautifully engineered metal.

  Thanks to Tara my sword was capable of performing the most difficult kills. Tara had honed it from a blend of metals she said would make my kills swift and clean. I only used it on special people. Mostly I used my bow. Mostly my kills were long-range. But on those rare occasions when I was unable to approach my target from a distance, I packed my trusty sword and got up close and personal.

  But now I wished I’d taken Logan’s advice and left Brand to him. This need to be my own boss might be the death of me, once and for all. Not having Anjelo around left me feeling helpless. From the start, Anjelo had been in on this investigation. Now Lily was taken, Anjelo was off looking for her. One text to say he was going to find her and then nothing. It was driving me insane with worry. Worst of all, Grandma Ivy was due back any day now. I was desperate for this whole debacle to be over and done with before she returned.

  I gritted my teeth, straining my ears for the sound of any oncoming vehicle in the vicinity. He was late. But I had no intention of waiting any longer. Logan would kill me anyway, once he found out how dangerous Brand was.

  The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly. Black clouds blotted out the stars, throwing the building and my hiding place into pitch darkness. I sunk low, and crept into the empty warehouse, sniffing the air lightly. Oil and metal resonated through the large building.

  There. Distinct, bold, the odor of grease and darkness. I could scent him from this far, and I was a good thirty yards away. Unfortunately it also meant he may know he had an interloper on his property. I hoped he was otherwise occupied.

  My nose twitched. The whole place reeked. Blood, and sweat, and fear. The fear made absolutely no sense at all. I concentrated harder, drawing deeper from my Panther’s senses, to identify how many people were in the room. I heard four hearts thudding, thundering away, blood pounding through veins and arteries, but only one heart racing with panic. Only one body had a blood pressure heightened by unadulterated terror.

  Fear dripped off the Human, thick and strong. Their Humanity was easily identified by blood pressure and the inner vibrations of the beating heart. So unlike the latent, but audible strength of a Walker’s heart.

  Brand and his friends had evidently found themselves a snack. Damn. This put a serious kink in my plan. I’d come to kill the bastard, not give his dinner a second lease on life. I was also outnumbered. No choice. Proceed with caution. My heart knocked so loud in my chest I was sure it echoed around the room.

  As soon as I was enveloped by the scent of blood, hovering like a poisonous cloud haloing a disaster zone, I knew Brand was otherwise occupied and my presence went unnoticed.

  A quick glance upward revealed ropes of chains hanging from the rafters so high I could barely see the highest points. The rope-chains hung to a few inches above my head, within reach but thankfully not in my way. Somewhere at the back of the building a door or window was open to a draft. The chains swung on the unseen breeze, dancing eerily above me. Chinking softly.

  I crept between rusted tanks and drums, edging forward with cautious steps, pausing, listening. Raucous, grating laughter rang out, setting a flock of pigeons a-flutter. The low hum of voices filtered to me, between the masses of old sawing equipment.

  A woman screamed out, the sound shrill with pain and terror. A sound which set my blood to boil. That did it. Never mind the kink in my plans, I decided I would feel loads better once the woman was freed and Brand got his just desserts.

  I maneuvered through the gauntlet of rusted, hulking machines of unidentifiable purpose. At last I could see the group. In an instant I knew my chances had dwindled. Dwindled to zero. I was heavily outnumbered.

  Brand was having a party. Three men, also Walkers by the smell of them, stood with Brand, forming a rough circle around a young girl. They were shoving her between them, grabbing and pushing and spinning her until she was disoriented and barely able to remain standing.

  Her clothing was ripped and in tatters, scratches and gouge-marks covered her body, and terror pooled in her eyes, its strength blotted by endless tears. That was when I saw Brand’s face.

  Brand’s transformation was beautiful in a ghastly way. His features were more feline than human, his jaw thinner and longer, and yet he still retained the personality of his Human face. The beauty was in his hair, streaked dull gold and so reminiscent of the leopard he was, it took my breath away for a second.

  And his face reminded me of Sully. So much that I would’ve sworn it was his twin, if not Sully himself.

  When he let out the growl that was more of a scream that chilled my blood, I knew I was too late to save her. I’d moved too slowly. All I could do was watch in silent horror as Brand pulled back razor sharp claws which sprouted from hands ending in a gross amalgamation of human hands and leopard paws.

  He slashed her open, neck to hip. She was alive long enough to see her innards spill over her fingers, still warm and soft, onto the sandy floor. Then she dropped to the ground and the four Skin-Walkers transformed fully and lunged at the body.

  I shivered.

  Fear, disgust, and panic rooted me to the spot. I held my breath until I almost passed out. I released the breath when nothing happened. They were so busy with their meal, nothing else would matter until their blood rage was sated.

  I sank back against the drum behind me, kept them in my sights, all the while wishing I’d waited for Logan to arrive. If Brand was Sully, it meant he had Lily. Tears filled my eyes as I wonde
red if he’d treated poor Lily the same way he was treating the poor kid out there.

  My initial bravado and desire to rid the word of the scum called Brand had come to a grinding halt. I accepted now, that something more had to be done about this. The clans needed to be warned. Walkers weren’t known to prey on Humans in this fashion, and from what I’d learned all my life, very few walkers went rogue to this extent.

  It wasn’t the way we lived. The Skin-Walkers had a code. No matter the clan, no matter the location, the code was law.

  And if Brand was Sully, and he didn’t care about Clan code, maybe his meal choices extended to Walkers. In which case, with the number of Walker bodies passing through his club, he’d have enough to feed himself and his little band of blood-suckers for years to come.

  Here I sat, ringside to the murder and consumption of a Human being. The hungry sounds and smells of their feeding rousing the bile from my stomach. Walkers like these had lost control, had ceased to see reason or to abide by clan law. They would endanger the entire community.

  The feeding sounds were fading as they devoured the body.

  My stomach lurched, and I knew I wasn’t far from spilling my own guts. The thought of what danger it would bring was enough to settle my nausea. Best to get back outside and wait for the team to arrive.

  I moved slowly, staying low and heading back the way I came. Rounding large rusting drums and rolls of chains, fallen free from their mountings in the ceiling.

  I was almost home free when I was ruthlessly lifted by the collar, and suspended off the ground. I was barely able to turn and look at my captor. I found myself staring Brand in the face.

  He must have finished feeding earlier than the others and I hadn’t noticed. I was dead meat. Literally. It wasn’t likely he’d be squeamish to feed on a walker.

  He didn’t say a word. Brand held me by the collar, let me fall to the ground and dragged me behind him as he returned to his horde. My butt landed on the dust, and bumped along as he went, no doubt wrecking my leather pants.