Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  I gasp and stumble backward.

  A finger presses against his lips, then he drops out of view.

  What the hell?

  I run down the stairs and bolt out the door. My head snaps left in time to see him running around to the back. I take off after him and away from the crowd. I’m almost out of breath when I reach the back of the house. And all for nothing. The guy, whoever he is, is gone. I wander farther into the backyard, turning in circles, darting my eyes everywhere.

  Maybe I was seeing things.

  Then a figure rushes out from a bush on my left. My heart leaps up into my throat, and I open my mouth to scream. He runs up behind me and clamps a hand around my mouth.

  “Why the hell are you following me?”

  I bite into his hand, and he lets go, letting out a stream of profanity as he does. I whirl around.

  “What the hell were you doing hanging from a building?”

  He shoves his arms into the front pocket of his hoodie. It’s dark back here, so I can’t see his face, and even if there were light except that being given off by the moon, his hood is low on his face. All I can see are a set of thin, but well-formed, lips.

  “I’m Spiderman for Halloween.”

  That gets a smile from me. Not that he can tell, what with me wearing a mask and all. That’s when I realize he isn’t wearing a mask. Well, it’s obvious he’s not wearing a mask, but if he isn’t, that means…

  “You don’t belong here.” I tilt my head to the side. “You don’t have passage, so how did you get in?”

  He backs away from me, the hint of a smile on his lips. “A superhero never reveals his secrets.”

  My hands plant on my hips. “I’m serious. If you’re caught…” I stop myself from saying ‘you’re going to be in big trouble.’ Sounds too much like something a five-year-old would say.

  “Are you going to narc on me?” he asks, still backing away.

  I open my mouth to respond when footsteps creep behind me. When I turn around, there is Mac with a mask very much like my own on his face. Butterflies storm my belly at the sight of him. Those butterflies piss me off. I want to rip their wings off.

  “I thought I heard voices…”

  “Yeah, I was just—” I turn around and he’s gone.

  With a frown, I sweep my gaze around the entirety of the backyard. Gone, as if he was never there. Was I seeing things? No, Vicodin doesn’t make you see things. Does it? Maybe it wasn’t Vicodin? No, Creeper would never do me like that. But where did he go? Behind another…

  “Kinsley?”

  The sound of Mac’s voice jars me. I grab my chest and spin around again. I had almost forgotten he was there.

  “Sorry. I just…” Was talking to an imaginary superhero? “Wanted to be alone.”

  He strolls toward me. “I understand that.”

  I back away and stick out my chest. “Did you tell anyone?”

  He frowns. “Why would I do that?”

  I kick at the ground. “I don’t know, because you think I need help.”

  “No.”

  My eyes narrow up at him.

  “I know you need help.”

  With a scowl, I say, “I think I still want to be alone.”

  He nods, but instead of leaving, he raises his eyes to the sky. “The moon is full.” His voice is as soft as a blanket wrapping around me.

  Just like that, I feel less hostile toward him.

  Damn him.

  Looking back at me, he goes on. “They say the full moon does crazy things to people. That it makes them…” He steps closer to me. Our chests are only inches from each other. “Feel crazy things.” He reaches out and trails a finger down the cheek of my mask. “Do you believe that?”

  His finger might as well be pressed against my skin for the reaction it has on me. I take in a shuddered breath. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  Mac reaches for my hand and squeezes. “I am a witch.” I can picture him smiling behind the mask. “And I definitely feel more… in tune with things tonight than I have in a while.”

  “Oh?” I ask over my thumping heart.

  “Yes.” He swings his arm and mine along with it. “Do you still want to be alone?”

  I would scowl, but the effect would be lost on him. “I don’t know. Are you going to lecture me again?”

  He laughs. “No, Kinsley. I just want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  He squeezes my hand again. “Paradise.”

  He starts to pull me back around the house. With one final look behind me, I let him.

  WATER RUSHES IN the air around me. I breathe it in. It almost has a smell, like fresh morning rain. I’ve been transfixed. Every ache in my heart quelled by the magnificence of this place. Flowers float around me in oranges and pinks on a breeze created by magic. Tiny figures dart around, bouncing off the tops of rose petals and zipping through the waterfall and out the other side where they shake their tiny heads off in my face.

  I giggle as water droplets land on my mask. I’ve never seen a fairy outside of a cartoon. They are quite mischievous, pushing each other into flower pots and knocking down hoes and rakes.

  “What do you think?” Mac asks from the high-backed, white wicker chair he’s seated in.

  I turn to him and shake my head. “I never knew a place like this existed in Killeen. It’s almost… too beautiful for a place like this. Too beautiful for any place, really.”

  He nods and looks around the dome-covered paradise surrounding us. “This is my favorite place on the grounds. We call it the room of spiritual attunement. Anytime I have a problem, I come here. By the time I leave, the problem feels so small.”

  I like his word for the room better. Paradise.

  I sit in a chair next to him. “You mean, you don’t always just reach for magic?”

  He eyes me. “Why would you think that?”

  I shrug. “Well, because you’re a witch.”

  Mac chuckles and smooths down his pant leg. “That would make life too easy.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  He looks at me, green eyes glinting through the holes in his mask. “What would be the point of a life without challenge? Without obstacles, how do you grow? How do you figure out who you are?”

  I glance down at my hands and twist my fingers together. “Sometimes obstacles don’t make you stronger. Sometimes, they just break you.”

  He leans forward and takes my hand. “That’s the choice we make. Let it break us, or let it make us stronger.”

  I gently pull away. “It’s not that easy.”

  “No,” he says. “But it is that simple.”

  Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair and take in all the beauty around me. Let it fill me so that bad things can’t get in. The dark things. The ghosts of memory constantly haunting me.

  “I don’t know,” I say after a while. “I think there are some things… Once they’re done, they never let you go.”

  “I can feel that in you. You keep yourself tethered to the past. That’s why you still think you need those pills. It’s why you keep punishing yourself.” He reaches for me again, but this time I lean away. Mac sighs. “You don’t have to live with it anymore, Kinsley. I can help you.”

  I snort, trying not to let myself get angry. Not here, not in this place.

  “You’re not some knight in shining armor. You can’t just make everything better.”

  “No, but I can help.”

  The intensity in his voice makes my head swim. I can’t understand it.

  “You can’t help. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know about the accident. I know that it wasn’t your fault. That you blame yourself.”

  I stand to my feet, fury erasing all the beauty around me. “Of course it’s my fault!”

  He stands with me and reaches for my arm. “Kinsley, please calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” I snatch my arm away. “You don’t even
know me. Why do you care so much?”

  His jaw clenches. “I don’t know,” he says with an air of frustration. “The only thing I know is that…that I have to help you.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

  Mac throws his arms up in the air. “Why not? Why in goddess’ name would you want to live with this?”

  “Because I have to!” I shout. Tears roll down my cheeks, making me feel both angry and stupid. “I have to live with it. As long as he’s suffering. I have to suffer with him!” I turn my back to Mac and roughly wipe my cheeks. I don’t want him to see me anymore. I don’t want to look at him.

  “Kinsley.” His hand lands on my shoulder.

  I shrug it off. “Go.”

  Several moments of silence stretch out between us. Finally, he says, “What?”

  “I said go.” I turn around and ball my hands into fists at my sides. “I want to be alone. Now.”

  “Kinsley…”

  “I said now!” Another sob bursts from my chest.

  He just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at me. After a while, he clears his throat.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says.

  “Please, just go.” I hang my head and stare at the glittering grass at my feet. “Please,” I whisper.

  I can picture him nodding. “I’ll be in the main house if you need me.”

  I nod as his footsteps trail away. As soon as I’m alone, I rip off my mask and fall back into the chair. Lowering my head, I start to cry. I cry until I feel empty. For a moment, I’m afraid I’ll use up all my allotted tears for this lifetime in this one night. I sob until my chest and stomach ache from it, then I sit there helpless, letting my silent cries taint the night.

  Somethings falls to the ground with a thud.

  With a gasp, I dart my eyes in that direction. Standing up, I call out, “Hello?”

  There is a low hiss, then a male voice curses. Something stumbles out from behind a row of potted plants.

  I inch near it. “Who’s there?”

  He steps out into the light. It’s him. Spiderman. Scaler of walls.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “How the hell did you get in here?”

  He inches closer. This time, his hood is off. A gentle breeze blows through his impossibly dark hair. It looks like someone rubbed bits of charcoal through it. There is also a streak of white running through the front, like he rubbed one part of his hair against wet paint.

  “Same way you got here.” He smiles and inches even closer. “I heard the fight you had with your boyfriend. He seems like a king douche.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I step closer so that I’m directly in the light.

  “He’s not my boyfriend…and you… What happened to you back there?”

  He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he stands there, deep blue eyes as wide as alien eye sockets. He steps closer to me, and his eyes grow so wide, I’m sure they’ll pop out of his head and start floating around with the faeries and flowers.

  I back away. “What?”

  He scoffs, turns slightly to his side and runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, my God,” he mutters to himself.

  What the hell is with this guy? I look around the place of spiritual attunement for something I might use as a weapon. Unless the guy has a severe flower allergy, it looks like I’m out of luck.

  He places a hand on his hip and scoffs up at the ceiling of the dome. “I don’t believe this. This is just my luck, let me tell you.”

  Batshit alert. Batshit alert.

  I frown at him. “I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  His eyes rest on my face, and his lips twist into a bitter smile. “Wow,” he finally says in a breathless voice. His eyes scan me up and down. “Christ, help me.”

  Whatever he’s on, for once in my life, I don’t want any.

  “Are you going to answer my question?”

  He stares at me. “What question was that?”

  “What happened to you earlier? In the backyard?”

  He bangs his fists in the air then sprawls out his fingers. “Magic,” he says with a dramatic lilt to his voice.

  I scowl at him. “Very funny.” I let my eyes slide up and down his body. Even though he’s a bit scraggly-looking with worn out, holey jeans and a green hoodie smeared in mud, he’s still very attractive. His looks seem to shine through the crap he’s wearing. He’s tall, taller than Mac, and more solidly built. So solidly built, I can see it through the baggy clothing he’s wearing.

  And those eyes.

  Wow.

  Not that it’s important. He’s clearly off kilter.

  “Are you following me?” I finally ask, locking my gaze onto his.

  I expect him to laugh. But he doesn’t. With a sigh, he says, “Yes.”

  Right away I reach into my purse and pull out a…

  Comb. I pull out a comb. Trying to appear confident, I hold it out toward him and put on my I-will-fuck-you-up face.

  The fact that he laughs makes me think I’m not being entirely effective.

  “What are you going to do, Kinsley? Comb me to death?” He bends over and completes my humiliation by belting out a symphony of laughter.

  I wait for him to finish with anger bubbling in my gut.

  When he’s through, he stands up straight and wipes a tear from his cheek. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Thank you.”

  “How do you know my name? And were you serious about following me?”

  His eyebrows slam together, and the lines around his eyes wrinkle. He looks as if he’s debating something within himself. A pained expression crosses his face, and I feel a bout of sympathy. Not enough to lower my ‘weapon,’ but it’s there.

  “I was serious about following you.” He bites his lip and hesitates. “But it isn’t what you think. I’m here… so that you can look out for me.”

  My eyebrows lift to my hairline. “That doesn’t make any sense.” I shake my head. “Why would you need me to look out for you?”

  He comes closer to me.

  I lift the comb higher, and he smiles down at me. Something in that smile seems familiar. Comfortable. Like I know him somewhere in the back of my mind. But that’s impossible. I’ve never seen him before in my life. And no girl could forget a set of eyes like that.

  “I can’t go back out there, Kinsley. I need you to help me… stay concealed. Just until morning. Then I’ll be out of your hair.” His eyes lower to the comb. “You can put that down. I’m not going to hurt you. I couldn’t… hurt you.”

  As crazy as it is, I believe him. Right away. This stranger who vanishes from backyards and pops up again in paradise. I believe him. I lower the comb and toss it back into my bag.

  “How do you know my name?”

  Another wave of pain floats across his face. My heart suddenly bends for him. This is the weirdest night ever. I can’t explain a lick of what I’m feeling.

  He clears his throat. “Edna suggested that I find you. That you knew what it was like… to be terrified of this night.”

  That I don’t believe. I don’t know why, but there is a gnawing feeling in my gut. He’s just as convincing as when he said he wouldn’t hurt me, but for some reason, I don’t believe he knows Edna for a second. Why would she tell him to come here? It doesn’t make any sense. At the same time, that feeling that tells me I shouldn’t believe him about Edna also tells me to let it go.

  So, I do.

  “Okay, I’ll help you.”

  He breaks out into the most rewarding smile I’ve ever seen. My heart expands in my chest. I feel lighter. All the anger Mac brought out in me, gone.

  “I need another favor from you, though.”

  I laugh. Is he serious?

  “What’s funny?”

  “For someone I don’t know, you sure ask for a lot of favors.”

  He shrugs. “This is a good one.”

  “I don’t even know you, dude. I don’t even know your name!”

&n
bsp; One of his eyebrows perks. “Did you just call me dude?”

  I smile. “What is your name?”

  He presses his lips together in a hard line and stares down at me like I’m some priceless artifact. It’s unnerving, so of course I reach for my hair and start chewing on it.

  He doesn’t say anything about it.

  “Why don’t you just call me… Charming?”

  I snort. “Charming? As in Prince Charming?”

  He waggles his eyebrows, and I laugh.

  “No way, just tell me your real name.”

  He steps so close to me, I forget how to breathe. “If you get me through the night, I will.” He holds up his pinky. “I swear it.”

  I link my own pinky with his. He leans forward and kisses the back of his fist. With a pounding heart, I reach down and kiss the back of mine. He pulls away from me with a wink.

  “Can’t break a pinky swear,” I say in a raspy voice.

  He nods. “Oh, I know. I don’t intend to.”

  From the distance, a bell chimes three times. Charming looks at his watch. “8:50. It’s dinner. You should go.”

  “But…”

  He starts to back away from me, a heart-melting smile on his face. “Sneak me something good. Meet me back here around… nine-thirty?”

  I frown. “What if I can’t get away?”

  He turns around and saunters off. “Then you’ll never know my real name. But I’m sure you can think of something,” he calls over his shoulder.

  Then he vanishes with the faeries under the pull of the waterfall. I stand there transfixed again until the bell sounds off. Then I grab my purse and mask and dash back to the main house.

  I get there at 8:53.

  7

  THE HARKERS HAVE the kind of long dining room table that you see in creepy, windswept old mansions in the movies. Gemma Harker sits at the head of the table while her husband, Virgil Harker, sits all the way at the other end. In the place of second honor, Mac told me a few minutes after I sat down.

  The murmur of conversation rattles around the table. Mac is talking to me about something. I nod and smile politely, even though I’m not really paying attention. Underneath the table, my leg bobs up and down, shaking the empty china in front of me.