Wicked Tales Anthology

by Brandy Slaven

  Oh, how I wish I had a camera to take a photo of each of guy’s expression and, better yet, Livvie’s, the latter who looks like she’s a skip and a hop away from passing the fuck out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Livvie

  “Ididawhatandawhonow?” I rush out, making my sentence sound like one long word. I’m not sure if I heard the red headed Demon correctly, but it almost sounded like he said I summoned my ‘consorts’. Now, I’ve read a lot. I Google stuff all the time. I know what a consort is, and I sure as shit didn’t accidentally summon mine.

  Chase walks over to the book to read the page that Lathan just read, the one I supposedly read from, and his face becomes one of pure unadulterated bewilderment. In a blink of an eye, a grin spreads across his face, the same look Lathan for when he said-

  “He’s right, Kitten. Looks like you accidentally brought forth your mates instead of just looking for them like the average witch does,” Chase replies, the mischievous glint in his eyes making me question the legitimacy of what he tells me.

  “You’re joking. I see the look in your eye. It’s the same one as this morning when you messed with my coffee,” I accuse, narrowing my eyes and pointing at him, which does nothing but make his smile spread even wider. I almost wince because it really looks like it’s hurting his cheeks.

  I don’t notice Silas and Rylan moving until Silas calls out my name. It pulls my attention away from glaring at Chase, the smug bastard who’s still sporting a grin to match Lathan’s.

  “Sweetheart, you may want to read the page,” he says, not doing too swell a job at hiding his delight at my current situation. I can hear the humour in his words like someone just shoved a megaphone up against my ear and yelled ‘DUMBASS’. The mockery is strong.

  I stomp towards the book, not my best idea when the floor creaks a little, my fear of the thing replaced by irritation. I lean over the torn pages, glance over the writing before focusing on what the words actually say.

  Oh fuck..

  I read the page. Then reread it. There’s a possibility I reread it again. Fine! I read that stupid page seven times, and each time the text remains the same. I really did accidentally and drunkenly summon my consort. Or consorts, as it seems. Well, shit.

  I stare at the pages in utter astonishment. I don’t move from where I stand, my back hunched over enough that I’m sure I look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, head awkwardly bent over the book that is causing me to seriously question my god damn sanity.

  This can’t be real, right? I mean, being a witch is one thing, but summoning dudes that are essentially my husbands... Yes, I see how the former should be less believable, but given my track record, or lack thereof, with men, you can see how the latter is more concerning to me.

  And what about Rylan? Oh, my sweet baby kittens. We’ve finally reached the point in our relationship where there is no going back, and three dudes just pop out of nowhere and tell me they’re my freaking consorts.

  My head’s going to explode, I think with an hysterical laugh that I don’t realise I’ve done out loud until four sets of concerned eyes swing to me. I hadn’t even noticed they’d gone off to check out what was in the room. Nice. I’m in the middle of a mental breakdown while they have a look at old furniture. Great consorts.

  Consorts.

  Actual, real life consorts.

  Like, not fake consorts.. But real ones..

  Oh, shit.

  Rylan notices my impending freak out first. He hustles over to where I’m now on the verge of keeling over the book, my back still hunched, but my head now lying on the raggedy page. My breathing picks up its pace, my head starts to feel light, and my eyesight becomes unfocused.

  “Breathe, babe. In and out, deep breaths, just like we did last night,” he instructs softly, rubbing my back in soothing motions.

  I vaguely hear Silas ask about last night through the heartbeat thrumming in my ears. I’m positive Rylan explains my embarrassment when another set of hands joins in with rubbing my back in circular movements, trying to give me comfort through touch.

  Doing as instructed and breathing in and out slowly, I roll my head to the left so my cheek is lying across the dusty pages of the book from hell, and to my surprise, I see it’s Silas who provides the extra pair of hands. I thought it might have been Lathan based off the protectiveness he showed before I climbed the ladder. Interesting..

  My breathing gradually steadies after what feels like eons of struggling to catch a breath. Fucking oxygen thieves are everywhere lately. My heartbeat begins to slow down to a more natural pace.

  “You okay?” Silas asks, his voice the gentlest I’ve heard since the three demons popped into my quickly unravelling life.

  “Yeah. Oxygen thieves are pesky little shits” I grumble, causing a cute little frown to appear on his face.

  “She insists there’s such things as oxygen thieves who steal her air because the girl loves to live in denial. She doesn’t want to admit she occasionally has panic attacks when she’s overwhelmed,” Rylan faux whispers. He becomes the subject of my fierce glare when there’s a clearing of a throat nearby. It’s only then do I realise that both Chase and Lathan have moved closer to me, likely when I was dying from lack of air.

  “As entertaining as watching your not so effective glare may be, do you want to tell us what the page says?” Chase needles, a cheeky smirk on his face. A smirk I’d love nothing more than to wipe of his smug little face.

  “No,” I deadpan as I take a deep breath and stand, still not facing the guys. My mind whirls, working a mile a minute, rapid firing questions at me. Am I going to have to ditch Rylan? But how do I have three? There’s just one of me. How does that work? Oh my hell, what’s going on?

  “No? You don’t want to tell us that the page you just read is the spell that summons a witch’s consorts?” Lathan taunts, joining his demon buddy in his mocking torture.

  “No,” I repeat, careful to keep my voice emotionless, removing all traces of panic and other feelings from my face. Denial is my friend. Denial is my friend. Denial.. is my friend.

  “You can’t live in denial of the truth all your life, sweetheart,” Silas the Betrayer responds, albeit less mockingly than the two other shitheads, making me worry that he can read my mind, ruining my mantra that I was beginning to believe.

  I turn so I’m facing him with narrowed eyes, cross my arms across my chest and reply, “Watch me.”

  With that, I pivot and march my ass to the hatch in the attic. I back down the rickety ladder, slower than my dramatic exit deserves, but today is not the day I die, thank you very much.

  “Buttercup, hold up,” Rylan calls from the attic just as I reach the floor. I don’t wait, instead I rush towards the staircase and barrel down the stairs. I’m practically giving an Olympic medal worthy performance when I sprint through the downstairs, running towards the door in the kitchen that leads to my backyard.

  I burst out the door with the dramatic flair I was missing before, and run until I’m standing in the middle of my lawn, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. Once I have my breath back, I throw my hands dramatically in the air and yell to the universe “WHY ME, CRUEL WORLD?!”

  I drop to my knees, yelling questions and obscenities, dubbing the universe as rude when it doesn’t provide me with an answer.

  As soon as I realise I’m not going to get my questions answered, I rest my ass on my feet since I’m still on my knees, staring off into the distance, lost in my thoughts. What am I going to do? Rylan has literally just told me that he loves me, and I returned the sentiment. I can’t take it back, even if I wanted to. Three guys stumble into our lives out of nowhere, okay, thanks to my drunken self, and are basically my soul mates. What the hell is going to happen to Rylan and me? The thought of not having him in my life makes me feel physically sick.

  I’m not sure how long I sit there for, my mind asking the same questions in a continuous loop, never gaining any answers, but Rylan comes outside some time
later with a fluffy grey blanket that he wraps around me and my giant mug filled to the rim with coffee. He takes a seat to the right of me and pulls the blanket so it wraps around his shoulders, too. Once under the blanket with me, he shifts his left arm to wrap around my back and pulls me closer to his side, careful enough that he doesn’t spill my drink.

  “What’re you thinking, Buttercup?” he questions gently, rubbing my waist with his thumb where his hand rests.

  “I’m thinking that the universe is playing some cosmic joke on me,” I reply in a pouty, dejected tone.

  He looks at me briefly before facing the mahogany colored fence I’ve been staring at for who knows how long, and asks “What kind of joke?”

  “Well, I finally get the man I’ve been pining over for the last six years, only for me to find out he isn’t my soul mate, but the three, that’s right, three, demons I accidentally summoned while I was wasted are my consorts,” I take a deep breath and quickly rush out, “and now you’re going to leave me, and our friendship is ruined, and I don’t know what to do because this all sucks.”

  I’m heaving for air by the time I finish, and after a stunned silence that lasts an uncomfortable amount of time, Rylan almost chokes on the laugh he’s trying to smother.

  “You’ve actually lost your mind if you think that any of that is funny” I snap with an eyebrow raise, my voice clearly indicating I’m nothing but unimpressed with his poorly timed laughing fit.

  He controls his guffaws and wipes his eyes, because he clearly found my dilemma cry laughter worthy, and shocks me to high heaven with the sentence that comes from his mouth next.

  “I’m one of your consorts, too, babe,” he says, his laughter sneaking out no doubt at the look of surprise on my face.

  “I’m sorry.. you what, now?” I ask stupidly, blinking slowly at him. Did he just say-

  “Yeah, you didn’t give me a chance to tell you before you sprinted out of the house. That spell kind of zapped me from my bed and landed me on your porch in nothing but my boxer briefs. Thought my nipples might fall off from how cold it was,” he says with a grin.

  “Wait..” I tell him, putting my hand over his entire face to shut him up for a second, turning my head to face the fence again, and ignore everything he said except for the part where he said that he’s my consort. When it begins to sink into my brain, I whisper, “That means you’re actually mine?”

  He nods against my hand, his eyes filled with warmth and love, and that ever present humor I should be used to by now.

  “What about the three demons in the house?” I question, a whirlwind of emotions rushing through my body under the surface.

  He looks down to where my hand is still pressed against his face, my entire palm covering his mouth, his eyes only peeking through in between my fingers, asking me to move my palm.

  “Oops. Sorry,” I mutter, removing my hand from where it’s connected to his face.

  He smiles at me before he starts his response, “Demons are known to share women” he smacks his hand over my mouth to shut me up before I can interrupt. He knows me so well, “even though it’s not the norm in human society. We’re not humans though, babe. At least, I’m only partly human. Demons share their consorts, normally witches, with other demons, and have done so for millenia. Demons strengthen their witch consort when a bond is made between them, boosting their powers. This is completely natural for us, Buttercup. My human side can only handle sharing you with your other consorts though, so don’t go getting any funny ideas,” he finishes with a cheeky smile to show me he’s only playing around.

  A comfortable silence falls between us, my mind thinking over everything he’s told me. So, I get to keep the man I’ve been in love with for six years, who just so happens to be my actual soul mate, and I’ve just found another three guys that hold pieces of my soul, too. What. The. Fuck. This is crazy on so many levels.

  I guess I’m kind of crazy, too, because I don’t feel like I’m seconds away from freaking out again. If anything, a certain calm settles over my chest. A serenity fills my body.. well, before my hyper ass gets all giddy at the prospect of having not one, but four seriously hot dudes as my consorts. As in all mine.

  I calmly hand over my coffee to Rylan, who’s sat silently besides me the entire time I’ve mulled over this new information. As soon as he accepts my jug like cup, his eyebrows raise in confusion when I shuck off the blanket and stand, my face blank. That is until I throw my arms out dramatically once again, and yell, “THANK YOU, NOT SO CRUEL WORLD!”

  I can’t help but finish my declaration with a moon walk all the way to the house, right through the kitchen and hallway. I don’t stop until I’m in front of the, nay, my demons who are all in hysterics, laughing so hard that Chase lies on the floor in the fetal position, hugging his ribs while breathlessly declaring that he can’t breathe. Lathan wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt to rid himself of the tears his laughter caused, and Silas is sat on the recliner with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking from the effort it’s taking trying to stop himself from losing his shit. That simply won’t do.

  It’s my loud high pitched “hee-hee” and crotch grab that sends him over the edge, loud guffaws pouring from him, which in turn causes the other two to lose their shit all over again. Rylan is already laughing when he comes into the room, walks up behind me to wrap his arms around me, and leans down to whisper in my ear, “I love you, babe.”

  “Love you, Muffin,” I reply with a cheesy grin, a happiness filling my chest that I’ve never felt before.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Chase

  It took some time for everyone to calm themselves down from our laughing fits after Kitten came moonwalking into the living room, which came only after yelling her thanks to the universe. She’ll soon start to remember that our hearing is better than the average human’s.

  After she took off from the attic to live her life of denial, the rest of us followed. The small woman is fast when she wants to be, however. We were still on the landing when we saw her through the window, bursting out of the back door like there was a monster on her tail, throwing her arms up and asking the ‘cruel’ universe “why?”.

  This woman is our consort. Ours.

  It doesn’t take me long to figure out that I’m not even put off. In fact, I’m quite happy about it. She’s quirky, and maybe a little crazy, but she’s funny, beautiful, and possesses the incredibly rare ability to make Silas laugh and smile. If that doesn’t scream ‘keeper’ then I don’t know what would.

  “So, Kitten, what was that about the world being cruel?” I ask her, not able to stop myself from teasing her, especially when a blush crawls up her face.

  Despite the colour of her face, she replies innocently, “I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to.”

  I give her a cheeky grin and shake my head. Before I can tease her more, she continues, “Anyway, now that you guys have calmed down about this whole consort business,” cue a snort from Lathan, because while we were as calm as a cucumber, Kitten continues to prove her denial knows no bounds, “how about you guys tell me what the thing was that had me pinned to a wall and had breath that smelled like ass?”

  I hear Rylan try to smother his chuckle in Kitten’s neck when she comments on the scent of the Ghoul that caught her off guard outside the club.

  It’s Silas who decides to explain to her, “We told you it’s called a Ghoul, sweetheart. And I don’t think he’s the only one that didn’t die-”

  He doesn’t get any further when Kitten cuts him off, looking truly concerned, but she’s crazy, so it’s not for the reason I’d have thought, saying “There’s more than one?! I’ll need invest in a company that sells mints or something.”

  “You’ll need more than mints to stave them off, Bolivia,” Silas replies in a soft voice, but sternly enough that the use of her full name has her snapping to attention. She now focuses firmly on the words that come out of his mouth, “They’re dangerous. We’re
lucky Rylan went after you when you left the club.”

  “What are they?” the serious tone of her voice proving she’s taking this particular conversation seriously. I notice Rylan’s hold tighten around her waist and a prickle of jealousy crawls across my skin. I shake it off, knowing it’s just me wanting to be in his place. I’ll get the time to build up to the hugging status. When I get to that point, I’ll hug the crap out of her. I’ll be a complete hug hog. I internally slap myself and focus back on the conversation at hand.

  “They used to be the most powerful beings on the planet,” Lathan chimes in, “that was before they got greedy with their power. They used to be warlocks, the most respected supernaturals in existence, until they decided that the power they already had wasn’t enough and started draining witches of their powers to fuel their own.”

  Silas continues, “They didn’t realise that by doing so, they were over fueling their bodies. They took in too much power, more than their bodies could handle. Warlocks possessed so much power already, and a witch is only a step down from a warlock. It’s like pouring water into an already full glass. I don’t know the science of it, no one really does, but they eventually started to rot from the inside. The power corrupted them, killing them from inside out, turning them into the monsters that hunt witches to drain their power just to stay alive now, if you even want to call it that. A witch’s power is sustenance for them. They’re essentially dead, like zombies, only they’re still powerful enough to overtake a witch and kill her for her magic. We thought they’d died out decades ago, but the attack last night shows just how wrong we were. And where there’s one, there’s a coven of a dozen or so somewhere nearby.”