“Kinsley!”
“Stay away from me!” I shout over my shoulder, then I break out into a jog.
And I don’t jog. For anything.
“Kinsley! Come on.”
I run into something hard and get knocked back. An arm reaches out to catch me. I realize in frustration it’s him.
“How the hell did you get in front of me?” I grouse, jerking away.
He holds his hands up to stop me. “Just let me explain, please.”
I glower at him.
He sighs, and holds out the pills. “I’ll give these back.”
I stare at the bottle like a little kid who just asked to go into a dark cave. The pill bottle seems to say, there are no hungry bears in here.
“Why?” I ask, my eyes still on the bottle.
“Because I want you to listen to me.”
I lift my gaze to his and hesitate.
With an exasperated sigh, he takes my hand and presses the bottle into my palm. Then he holds his hands up. “I’m not trying to trick you.”
I nod and slowly place them back into my pocket. For some reason, they feel heavy there. A physical reminder of my shame. My guilt. I cross my arms over my chest and try to pretend I’m not feeling any of this.
“I’m listening,” I say like a sullen teenager.
“I know what happened to you a year ago. About that dude you hit.”
The urge to reach into my pocket and swallow a bunch of pills almost knocks me back.
Instead, I take in a shivering breath and shrug. “A lot of people know about that.”
“I also heard you in the attunement room. About how you had to suffer.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Be careful.”
His eyes mimic mine. “Well, I’m just wondering how you’re suffering if you’re constantly getting high.”
My hands ball into fists. “I am not getting high!”
He arches an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not!”
“Look.” He waves his hand through the air. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
Could have fooled me.
“I just want you here tonight.” He steps closer to me with his hands in the air. He looks like he’s surrendering himself to the fuzz. “I don’t want you spaced out. I want you to feel every moment of this night.”
I part my lips, but nothing comes out at first. Finally, I swallow. “Why?”
He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “I just need you to.”
The wind kicks up and blows my hair into my eyes. Charming reaches out and tucks it back behind my ears, then he cups my face. In that moment I feel like I could give it up. I could feel this night with him, whatever that means. I’m already feeling the thrill of his fingers against my skin. I want them everywhere.
Something inside him pulls me forward. I want his arms around me. I’m about to say something, although I don’t know what, when a white, glowing orb appears above my head.
My eyes lift toward it.
What the fucked duck?
“Shit,” Charming mutters, dropping his hand from my cheek.
“What?” I ask, still staring at the orb. “What is it?”
“Someone’s cast a locator spell on you.” He throws his hand toward the orb, and it shatters into a million pulsing lights.
“Kinsley!” someone calls through the tall flowers. “Kinsley! I need to speak with you!”
It’s Mac.
“Shit!” Charming bites into the word, his face flushing red.
“What do we do?” I ask as Mac’s footfalls edge ever closer to us.
Instead of answering, Charming dives into the nearest bunch of flowers and is gone from sight. I open my mouth to call out to him when a hand clasps onto my shoulder. I spin around and stare up into Mac’s big, confused eyes.
“How the hell did you get out here?”
I open and close my mouth like a drunk goldfish.
“Never mind. We’ll get to that later.”
He’s flushed and out of breath.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart tightening in my chest.
“Something’s happened…”
“What?”
He hesitates. “One of my contacts on the outside got in touch with me. There’s been an incident with some of your friends…”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
He sighs. “Every year on this day, I hire some witches to walk the streets. Try to minimize the damage done outside these walls.”
“Oh.” My harsh opinions of how the Harkers could do more edge into my memory. Guess I don’t know everything about them just because I watch them on TV. “Okay.”
“Well, I always research my charges, and when I learned I would be responsible for you tonight…” His eyes darken. “A task that you are somehow making very difficult.”
“I’m sorry.”
He waves his hand. “The important thing is I asked my contacts to keep an eye on your friends tonight.” He pauses and bites down on his lip. “Something has happened.”
Imaginary hands tighten around my throat. It becomes a struggle to breathe.
“What? What happened?”
“One of your friends…has been possessed.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, God.”
He nods. “Someone is on it, but…”
“Who?”
“Kinsley.”
“Tell me!”
He sighs again. “Trixie.”
“Oh, God.” I tangle my fingers in my hair. “I have to go to her.” I step past him and tumble without seeing through the tall flowers.
“Kinsley.” He grabs my arm, pulls me to a stop, and steps in front of me. “You can’t. I’ve got it under control.”
“How do you have it under control? You’re here!”
A pained expression crosses his face. I know I shouldn’t be blaming him. He’s doing so much for me, but I can’t help it. I’m all panic and no logic. I have to get to her.
“We can’t leave the grounds, Kinsley,” he says in a tight voice.
“Oh, yes we can. Or I can.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that…”
Suddenly Mac’s eyes go blank, and he falls to the earth. Charming appears over his body.
My mouth opens. “Wha…what did you do?”
Charming shrugs and peers down at him. “He’ll be okay. Won’t even remember what hit him.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Are you nuts?”
He glowers at me. “Do you want to get to your friend or not?”
I stare at him before nodding.
“Okay, because he wasn’t going to let you.” Charming steps over Mac. “Now we better get going before he wakes up.”
CHARMING AND I rush to my car. I don’t stop to ask questions. I don’t need to know how he knocked Mac out. I don’t need to wonder how we’re going to get past the guard or back inside Harker Heights. Right now, I just need to get to Trixie. My hands shake as I try to get my key into the lock. Charming places his hands on mine, gently removes the keys, and unlocks the door. Then he walks around to the passenger side door. I start to get in when he clears his throat.
Glancing over the hood at him, I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m going to need to drive.” He opens the passenger side door and waves a hand toward it.
“Why?”
“Because this thing is going to need a little juice to get to your friend on time and to get through the enchantments cast around this place.”
I nod, deciding not to argue, and go around to the other side of the car and get in. Charming starts the engine as soon as I shut the door and steers toward the gate. The security guard who gave me trouble when I got here hours ago steps out into the road and holds up his hand. Charming brings the car to a crawl and mumbles something under his breath. The color fades from the guard’s eyes until small, white orbs are staring back at us. Then he turns around in the robotic fashion of a wind-up doll and marches back into his booth.
“That’s the easy part,” Charming mutters as the gates whine open.
I chew on my lip as he steers toward the gate and comes to a stop. A biting sensation, like a severe itch, breaks out all over my skin. I heave, but thankfully nothing comes out.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a tight voice.
I try to answer, but all I manage to do is shake my head. Okay is the last thing I feel. It feels like my stomach is going to lurch out through my throat.
“It’s the magic,” Charming says when I don’t respond. “Just sit tight. I think I can get it down in one spot.”
He thinks he can get it down? Great. I double over and struggle to breathe. This magic is no joke. For a moment, I forget about everything. About Mac. About the mysterious Charming and about my best friend serving as flesh suit for some ghost douche bag. All my mind can focus on is the pain. The pain that feels like it’s about to shred me to bits.
I want to tell Charming to go back, but I can’t. I start to scratch at my skin. I have to get the feeling off me. I dig my nails in until red blotches appear.
Then it slowly fades away. It becomes easier to breathe and the car rushes through the gate. Panting, I glance back as the gate closes behind us. Two figures race past the security booth. I face forward before I see who they are.
“You okay now?” Charming asks me again.
I nod. “Yes.” Huff. “Better.” I take in a deep, calming breath then turn to him. “You have to hurry.”
He nods, not taking his eyes off the road. “Buckle up.”
I pull my seatbelt on. Now that I can think, all I can think of is Trixie. If listening to a bossy ass witch gets me to her faster, so be it.
The moment the latch clicks into the buckle, Charming’s hand hovers over the steering wheel. It glows red, and the car takes off so fast I’m pushed back against the seat.
My eyes widen as my car—my little shitmobile that I have to pray to the engine gods each time I start it—shoots down the road faster than I would have thought possible. The trees zip by in a blur of movement. It’s funny, before I hung out with witches, I was fascinated by magic. I tried to emulate it. But after being around it, it’s just given me near heart attacks and made me nauseous.
The grass is always greener.
Still, whatever witchy boost Charming gave my little car gets us to Creeper’s house in a matter of minutes. I’m opening the door before he’s even finished pulling up next to the curb. I dart across the grass, but before I can reach the front door, he’s in front of me, blocking me.
“Get out of my way,” I say, trying to dodge him.
He steps left and easily blocks me off again. “A year ago you were possessed by a ghost, right?”
I just stare at him. What the hell is he asking me that for? This isn’t about me. This is about Trixie.
“You’re particularly vulnerable tonight. We need to be very careful here.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you should wait in the car. I can place a spell around you…”
“No way you’re going in there without me.”
He sighs. “You’re really stubborn, aren’t you?”
“About some things.”
“Fine. Just let me…” He passes his hands up and down my body. A warm current bites into my ankles then wraps itself up my body, finally exploding in my midsection and flowering out toward my fingers and the crown of my head. Charming nods, obviously satisfied. “It’s not one hundred percent, but it should help.”
I don’t bother asking him what he did. Right now, I don’t care. I shove him to the side and pound on the door. My foot taps up and down on the welcome mat. After what seems like forever, but what is probably only a few seconds, no one comes, and I knock again. Then I press my ear to the door. What sounds like mumbling vibrates from the other side of the door.
I try the handle. Locked. I glance over at Charming.
“Can you get this door opened?”
Without saying anything, he passes his hand over the doorknob. Slowly, it squeals open. I glance at Charming before I go inside. He steps in beside me, throws an arm out, and uses it to sweep me behind his back. Together, we creep down the walkway toward the living room.
I don’t know what I was expecting to find here, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
10
I BLINK AT the scene in front of me several times as if I think opening and shutting my eyes just enough will make it go away.
It doesn’t.
Creeper and his mom are tied to chairs, gagged and looking at us in terror. Creeper’s mom jerks her head toward the door. She wants us to leave. I notice a trail of blood running from her temple to her chin.
I shake my head and mouth, No way.
My eyes shift to Creeper. He’s slumped over in his wheelchair, a line of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. I race over to him and place my hands on his shoulders.
“Creeper!” I hiss, shaking him.
He doesn’t respond. My gaze travels to the back of his head. His dark hair is matted in blood.
“Oh, God.”
A high pitched groan comes from Creeper’s mom. My gaze shifts to her, and I find Trixie standing behind her, holding up a knife and wearing a demented smile.
I gulp. “Trixie?”
She laughs–or rather the ghost wearing her—laughs and shakes Trixie’s head.
“Well, well, well.” He uses Trixie’s voice to form an accent. It sounds like British dipped in a bit of American south. “The cavalry has arrived.” He lets out a deep chuckle. “How nice.”
Without warning, he drives Trixie’s arm down, and the wet sound of metal slicing into flesh makes me cringe. Creeper’s mom lets out an ear-splitting howl of pain. The knife is embedded in her thigh. Her face crumples, and she jerks unnaturally in her seat.
“Son of a bitch.” I start to charge for whoever is inside Trixie, when Charming grabs be by the shoulder and stops my advance.
“Easy. We have no idea who we’re dealing with.”
Trixie’s intruder laughs again. “How right you are.”
Charming lowers his arm. “Then why don’t you tell us?”
I wince in response to Mrs. Creeper’s sobs.
Trixie’s eyes roll, and he nods her head down toward his stab victim. “Such a drama queen, this one. All the begging for her son’s life. Take me, take me.” He shakes Trixie’s head and rips the knife out.
With another wail of pain, her head lolls to the side.
“Who are you?” Charming asks again.
I have no idea how he’s staying so calm. It’s all I can do to stand there and watch this happen to people I care about. If I were a witch, I’d rip the son of a bitch out of my best friend and rain magic down on his ass.
But I’m not. And I hate having to trust someone else with Trixie’s life. With all their lives. I turn away from the scene, reach into my pocket, retrieve two pills, and pop them. When I turn around, Charming’s gaze is still leveled on whoever is inside Trixie.
Good. He didn’t notice.
“Who are you?” The man in Trixie asks, raising one of her eyebrows.
“Don’t worry about that.”
Trixie’s head tilts to the side. “Hm. Does your present company know?”
I frown over at Charming. Know what?
“Just answer the question,” Charming says. His voice is still calm but has a little bite to it.
The man throws Trixie’s arms over her head. “Okay, okay. My name is Leonard Whitmore.” He actually fucking bows. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
My eyes shoot open wider.
“Are you serious?” Charming asks as if he’s in my head.
“Oh, I’m always serious.”
Leonard Whitmore is an old ghost story all kids who grew up in Central Texas heard and told about as children. Only this ghost story is based on an actual person. A notorious serial killer who would break into the private residences of well-to-do people, tie them up in the living
room, and make them watch as their loved ones were slain in front of them.
Then he’d place them at the dining room table and have a last meal with them. He was caught and hung in 1918. And now, he was taking up residence inside my best friend.
“Oh, you’ve heard of me,” Leonard says, using Trixie’s mouth to ask the question.
I don’t know what was on my face. Maybe some light of recognition in my eyes, but I try to wipe it off. I don’t want to give him any more satisfaction than he’s already getting.
“No.” I square my shoulders. “Actually, I haven’t.”
Leonard laughs and steps out from behind Creeper’s mom, who is on the verge of passing out. He tsks and points Trixie’s finger at me.
“You’re a bad liar, dear girl.” He points her index and middle finger toward her eyes then turns them around so they’re pointed at me. “Your eyes give you away. And what a lovely amber they are. It’s like looking through a bottle of raw honey.” He grins and starts closing the gap between us.
Before he can reach me, Charming steps out.
“What is it that you want?” he asks, crossing his arms.
Trixie’s lip turns down at one end. “I would have thought that was obvious.” He waves Trixie’s arms around. “To relive my glory days!” His laugh sends a case of the creeps up my spine. It’s not my friend’s laugh. Not even close.
“Well, I’m going to have to ask that you do that using someone else’s flesh. You see.” Charming gestures toward Trixie’s body. “Someone I really care about is fond of this body, and I’d hate to see anything happen to it. You understand.”
Leonard laughs as I stare at the side of Charming’s face. Someone he cares about. He can’t mean me, can he? I shake my head. That isn’t important right now.
“I understand, of course. But I’m sorry. Flesh isn’t so easy to come by, and I suit this body well.”
My eyes home in on the talisman around Trixie’s neck. The useless piece of jewelry I’d given her earlier that day.
“What if I can get you another body?” Charming asks.
My gaze snaps up to his face and widen. “Are you serious?”
“Shh!” He frowns down at me.
“Um, no.” I take his arm and pull him down the walkway. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask once we’re out of earshot.
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 175
