Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.” A middle grade girl raised her hand. “Ask me. I know.”

  “Okay. What’s the most important thing?”

  “Stay together.” She gave a triumphant smirk to the wrestlers who rolled their eyes.

  “Exactly. Stay together.”

  He started down a dirt trail, and everyone fell in behind, flashlights aimed at the ground. Callie found herself in the middle of the pack, and she glanced around for the old woman with the ghost aura. She had disappeared.

  “When we gonna see them lit-up bugs?” one of the wrestling boys yelled.

  “Soon,” the guide promised. “The bioluminescent creatures are nicknamed dismalites, and their glow is from a chemical reaction, much like their biological cousins, the fireflies. Their lights attract tiny, flying insects into their web. Like spiders.”

  They climbed down concrete steps, going deeper in the canyon. The air cooled and darkness thickened. The sound of running water from a nearby waterfall grew louder with each step.

  And suddenly they were everywhere, thousands of bluish-green pinpoints of light on the steep boulder walls of the canyon. So many that she could almost see the path without the flashlight.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” the guide said. “It never fails to amaze. If you’ll switch to the red filter on your flashlights, the visibility will be greater.”

  Even the wrestling boys were briefly awed into near silence.

  The light against the dark canyon walls reflected the glowing patterns created by the dismalites like star constellations in the sky. It was almost disorienting, like being in a parallel universe. She looked overhead at the starry sky and then below where the dismalites glowed. The lights encircling her body made her feel like she was floating in space. If only she could share it with James, the experience would be completely mind-blowing.

  She forced herself to stay in the present. It was the only way to get through the pain.

  She checked her phone as soon as she awoke, just as she had yesterday morning. Still no signal. It would be nice to call home and check in, but she’d left a note.

  Again, she left the cabin to explore the canyon, hoping Mom and Grandma Jo weren’t too worried. After all, she wasn’t a kid. She’d be twenty tomorrow.

  She slowed to a stop. Her birthday, the summer solstice . . . it was all coming to a head. She shook her head and quickened her pace, glancing at the park map. First stop, Rainbow Falls. Then on to several Indian landmarks before winding her way to the Witches’ Cavern and a picnic lunch by a natural pool carved out of solid rock formed by rushing waters.

  The mystical atmosphere of the gray, green, and silver forest totally enveloped her senses. Attuned to the earth’s subtle vibrations, she was able to locate the ancient Indian sacred sites without the map. At the Temple Cave and Dance Hall, she reverently touched the large stones worn smooth from centuries of human touch. She could explore those more tomorrow. Today she was eager to see the cavern. Mabel must have mentioned this place for a reason.

  Back on the trail, she passed by Weeping Bluff and stared at the walls forming the face of an Indian Maiden. According to the park brochure, the water seeping from her eyes were the canyon’s tears for the loss of its only true friends, the Chickasaw.

  “Isn’t she amazing?”

  The sound of a human voice made Callie jump. She’d been alone and totally wrapped up in ancient history all morning.

  She turned toward the sound with a smile. “Yes, sad though that—”

  Aquamarine eyes bored into her. The old lady from last night had reappeared.

  “Have a good time exploring,” the woman said with a wave. She hurried on, disappearing into the stone labyrinths.

  Who was she? Another mystery, one she didn’t need. As long as Lucas didn’t send her, it didn’t matter. Callie didn’t believe the old woman had any evil intent, or if she did, it was well hidden.

  She continued, excited to find the Witches’ Cavern. Everything about this place thrilled her. To top it off, it was fourteen degrees cooler on the canyon floor than the stifling heat above ground. And no poison oak, flies, or mosquitoes, courtesy of the clever little dismalites that ate all the bugs.

  One had to live in the one hundred degree, one hundred percent sweltering summer humidity of Alabama, with its plague of insects, to fully appreciate the blessed relief. The PR people for this canyon missed the boat. All they had to do was advertise it as the only mosquito-free trail in Alabama and tourists would flock from all over the South.

  Callie slowed her pace as she neared the cavern. The air in the sunken forest grew heavier and deeper. The lush greens and pearl grays gave way to darker hues of hunter green, browns and blacks. Massive boulders, once part of the canyon’s towering bluffs, lay haphazardly strewn from ancient, tumultuous earthquakes. The stone boulders seemed thicker here, as if they were closing in on her inch by stealthy inch.

  By the time she reached the Witches’ Cavern, a heaviness had settled in her stomach.

  She studied the cavern opening, a narrow entrance between two sky-rise boulders. She squeezed through, breathing heavy with claustrophobia. Inside, a small stream of sunlight filtered down and bounced against the moss-covered stone cliffs, turning its bright rays into a putrid, yellow-green luminescence. The sort of color you saw in hospitals, funeral homes, and prisons. Gnarled, black tree roots skirted down the stone’s edges like slithering snakes.

  The silence was ominous and absolute. No birds chirping, leaves rustling, or other sounds of life. Only the loud, steady thump-thump of her racing pulse. Every instinct screamed to get out.

  She ran.

  And ran. She didn’t stop running until she was back under open sky and the friendly energies of light, greenness, and nature sounds. She’d run away from home and now she was running again.

  Sudden screaming pierced the air. She jumped, unsure what to expect.

  “Hey lady, what’s the matter with ya’?” One of the boy wrestlers from the previous night shot past her in red swim trunks.

  “You cheat! I was winning ‘til ya’ poked me in the back.” The second wrestler followed, face flushed with excitement.

  Get a grip. She followed them to the natural, stone-carved pool. A nice douse of cold water was what she needed.

  At the pool, the boys splashed and wrestled. They stopped and stared when she jumped in fully clothed.

  “Did Mom send you to babysit us?” one of them asked in suspicious disgust.

  “Nope. Feel free to continue fighting.”

  They went back to their sparring with gusto as she floated on the cold water. Gradually, she shook the effects of the Witches’ Cavern. She would go back tomorrow in hopes of a more welcome reception. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something awaited her there.

  15

  Seven Spirit Guides

  June 21, Summer Solstice

  Callie approached the Witches’ Cavern entrance with grim resolve. This time she wouldn’t be spooked. She touched her amber pendant and envisioned a protective bubble of light surrounding her body. After plunging through the narrow rock opening of the cavern, she strode directly to a flat stone outcropping.

  Gone was yesterday’s disturbing atmosphere. “Everything’s cool today,” she said in surprise, the words echoing as they bounced off boulders.

  She emptied her backpack with her witch-on-the-go kit that held candles, matches, crystals, a wand, and chalk. With the chalk, she drew a pentagram on the stone’s center and walked three times around the outcropping.

  “Air, earth, fire and water,” she chanted. “Let no one enter this circle unless invited by me.” She sat by the pentagram and lit a candle. “Help me, goddess, to find a message at this sacred space.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A humming, distant at first, came like the faint droning of a bee. Gradually, the humming became a vibration in every cell of her body. Not overpowering, but a resonating wave that energized.

  “May I enter your cir
cle?”

  The buzzing sound broke off immediately.

  Callie opened her eyes and gasped. “You again.”

  Aquamarine eyes locked with hers, as startling in their magnetism as they were in their unusual color.

  “Who are you?”

  The old woman gave a secretive smile. “Can’t you guess?”

  I know this person. A name flashed in her mind. “Mabel?” she asked breathlessly.

  She nodded. “May I enter and sit with you?”

  “Yes, yes of course.” Callie retrieved her wand formed from a piece of her coven’s oak tree with an amethyst glued at the tip. She stood and pointed the wand, opening a doorway through the magic circle.

  Mabel, though old, moved with a slow grace as she climbed up on the stone. “Shall we sit?” Without waiting for an answer, she carefully lowered and sat cross-legged.

  Callie followed suit. They stared at one another, the chalk-outlined pentagram between them.

  “Happy birthday, Callie.”

  What did Mabel know? Was she even real? Callie studied her in confusion. She seemed real enough. Lines etched her face and her mass of silver hair tumbled haphazardly from a loose knot on the top of her head.

  “What . . . I mean, who are you?”

  Mabel smiled, revealing well-worn laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, oddly endearing. “You didn’t conjure me out of your imagination.”

  So she wasn’t crazy. “But . . . how can you be real flesh and blood when you spoke to me through the Ouija board?”

  “Astral travel.” Mabel waved a hand dismissively. “My spirit communicated with you.”

  Callie was impressed and more than a little apprehensive. “Did you know when your spirit left, another came? It said I would die.”

  “Of course you will. We all die eventually.”

  Despite the matter-of-fact tone, Callie sensed an underlying sadness. “But I got the idea I—or somebody—was going to die . . . tonight.” Oh hell, today was really the day.

  Mabel kept her gaze slightly past Callie’s shoulder and appeared to ponder a response. When she faced Callie, her eyes were stern. “Callie, why are you here?”

  “Because you told me to come.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to come today. Why did you choose your birthday, the time of your coven initiation?”

  Her face burned. “Don’t you know everything already?” Despite her awe, she couldn’t keep the defensiveness at bay.

  “I’ll be frank. You’re running away from your birthright.”

  “I’m running away to stop a battle and a death,” Callie said hotly.

  Mabel lifted an eyebrow.

  “Maybe I am scared a little,” Callie admitted. “I don’t want to cause anyone’s death.”

  “Fate’s a tricky thing. Take some advice from an old crone. Never try to foretell the future without first imploring the goddess not to reveal anything over which you have no control.”

  “Do I have any control over what happens?”

  “To a degree, yes. We all have some control of our lives. Your decisions determine your path.”

  “What’s going to happen tonight?” She held her breath.

  “I don’t have all the answers. Like you, I’m mortal. But I do know from experience that running away isn’t the best option.”

  “You think I should go home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I still don’t understand why you brought me here . . . to this place.” She waved her hand around the cavern.

  “I knew you were thinking of running, and this is a safe place to hide. Dismals Canyon has been important to your family for centuries. It’s sacred. Can’t you feel it?”

  She nodded. Everything about this place was magical. Every stone, tree, and path rang with familiarity. “Tell me how my family’s connected.”

  “It goes back generations. Callie, do you know the purpose of your coven initiation tonight?”

  “I’ve seen other initiations. It’s when I dedicate myself to the craft and to my coven.”

  “Yours will be different. I can prepare you for the Wakening.”

  “The Wakening?”

  “Lucas was right about the significance of your birthday.”

  It’s a trap. She scrambled to her feet and looked around, expecting him to appear. “You know Lucas?”

  Mabel motioned for her to sit. “Don’t worry. He’s not here.”

  She slowly lowered, shaken.

  “Not only were you born on the summer solstice, you were born on a full moon night, continuing a maternal heritage.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s a bit convoluted, but you happen to be the seventh female in your matriarchal line to have this same birthday.”

  “But Mom and Grandma Jo weren’t born on the summer solstice.”

  “No, but it doesn’t have to be a continuous progression.”

  “Huh?”

  “Some generations can be skipped.”

  Callie let that sink in. “What are you getting at?”

  Mabel reached over and patted her hand. “It’s very special, Callie. At the Wakening, the spirits of your ancestors will visit you.”

  She bit her lip. It sounded frightening. “Will it hurt?”

  “Not at all,” Mabel assured her. “They won’t literally enter your body but will reveal themselves to you. All seven will bless you and from this night forward, will serve as your spirit guides in different areas.”

  “And they’re all good spirits? No evil ones in the bunch like Lucas?” Thank the goddess he wasn’t part of her maternal line.

  The serene, aquamarine eyes transformed into a storm of sadness. “Just as there is duality in nature, so there is a duality in every person. Do you always think positive thoughts? Haven’t you felt anger and made mistakes?”

  She immediately remembered being so hard on Mom when she first returned home and shifted uncomfortably. “Of course. But most of the time I try not to hurt others.”

  “Most of the time,” Mabel echoed in agreement. “Realize there’s light and shadow in everyone. And don’t underestimate yourself and the power of light to defeat darkness.”

  Callie thought it over. “You’re right. I should be with my coven tonight.” She glanced at the afternoon shadows. “Hope I’m not too late to get back in time. Even if I do, no one’s expecting me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Mabel smiled. “Even now, your ride home waits at your cabin. And he won’t take no for an answer.”

  An explosion of hope burst in her chest. “James?”

  Mabel nodded, and Callie quickly blew out the candle and gathered her witch supplies. She was ready.

  “Walk with me to close the circle?” she asked Mabel.

  “Yes, it’s time.”

  Together they walked widdershins around the sacred area and thanked the spirits. She was eager to see James. But she also had a strange reluctance to say goodbye to Mabel.

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  “I’ll be there tonight.”

  “In spirit or in the flesh?”

  “Both,” she said with a chuckle.

  Callie gazed at her in surprise. “You think my coven will let you, a stranger, just walk into their circle?”

  “I’m no stranger to your mother and grandmother, though I don’t imagine they will be particularly pleased to see me.”

  She searched Mabel’s face. Those eyes, it always came back to those aquamarine orbs. Surely, if she had seen them before, she would remember. The only person she’d ever met with such startling eyes had green-colored irises, not . . . oh, Saint Brigid no, it couldn’t be.

  Mabel smiled sadly, as if reading her mind. “It’s true. I’m your grandmother.”

  She stepped backwards instinctively. “No, I already have Grandma Jo.” Well, that was stupid. A person didn’t have only one grandmother.

  Mabel’s face crumpled in sorrow. Maybe the way Lucas turned out wasn’t
her fault.

  “I . . . I’m sorry, Mabel,” Callie stuttered.

  “I’ve caught you off guard.” Her voice was gentle. “Your father wasn’t always a greedy, selfish person, Callie. And I can’t help hoping he might change one day.” Mabel reached out a tentative hand. “I’ve always loved you, in spite of my disappointment in Lucas. Until now, I’ve stayed away, thinking it for the best. I hope one day you’ll let me be part of your life.”

  She looked down and saw that Mabel’s freckled, wrinkled hand trembled slightly. She placed her own hand in her grandmother’s. “I see why you were so sad when you spoke about light and shadows. It’s okay. Really. I’d love to get to know you.”

  Mabel briefly closed her eyes and sighed. This meeting must have been hard. She embraced her grandmother, who felt surprisingly frail.

  Mabel pulled away and gave her a watery smile. “Go now. We’ll talk again later.”

  Callie gave her hand a final squeeze and waved goodbye.

  “Oh, wait . . . I almost forgot.” Mabel reached into the pocket of her shirt and pulled out a small glass vial. “Put this on before your initiation. It’ll help you connect better to your guides at the Wakening.”

  She examined it curiously. An orange crystal floated in the oily liquid. “What’s this?”

  “Third eye oil. I make it with jojoba oil, cinnamon, and lemongrass. The citrine inside keeps the potion magically charged.” Mabel gave a little push. “Go. James is waiting.”

  That was all the encouragement she needed. Callie ran back to the cabin, her thoughts returning to James. Could he forgive her for ditching him? Her whole body quickened with hope and anticipation. The closer she got to the cabin, the faster her pace, until she was running at full speed. The cabin came into view. Breathlessly, she scanned the area.

  He was there. He stood on the porch waiting, eyes serious and questioning.

  Callie waved and ran to him. “James!”

  His face lit up as he bounded down the steps. In a heartbeat, she was in his arms.

  He squeezed her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. Heaven. The scent of him, a combination of leather, soap and pure male pheromones, made her heady with longing. She forgot all about Mabel, her birthday, Lucas, and the initiation. All she wanted was for James to never let go. She pulled away from his chest enough to lift her chin, a silent request for a kiss.