Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  Charming’s back is to me.

  I want to go to him. To thank him. And probably more than anything else, to ask questions. Like what the hell happened when I touched him that allowed him to get his witchiness back.

  But that can wait. I saunter back into the dining room. Trixie and Creeper’s gazes fall on me.

  “What?” I ask, sitting back down.

  I take Mrs. Creeper’s tea and claim it for myself. I may not be possessed, but the occasional shiver still rips through my body. Just having my hands around the warm mug makes me feel better. I take a sip and try to ignore their piercing eyes.

  “So, Mac Harker, huh?” Trixie asks with a light smile on her lips. She isn’t back to her old self quite yet, but I can see the expressions she makes belong to her. That’s enough for now.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he as hot as everyone in the media tells me he is?”

  I laugh. “Why do you care? You’re into boobs.”

  She shrugs. “Just curious.”

  I nod. “He’s pretty hot.”

  Creeper snorts and leans across the table. “You still didn’t tell us how you knew this was going on.”

  I shift my gaze to him. “It’s like I was saying, Mac has some witches on the outside. When he found out he was guarding me for the night, he asked some of them to keep an eye on you. We came as soon as we heard.”

  Creeper’s eyebrows vanish into his hairline. “We?”

  I nod, taking another sip of the biting, lemon zest tea. “Yeah, which answers your other question of how I got out of Harker Heights. Charming put a magic hole, or whatever, in the magic walls the Harker witches set up around the grounds. And he did this cool thing to my car… It was terrifying at first, but we got to you guys in time…”

  Creeper places a hand on top of mine, halting my speech. The look of concern that swims in his eyes confuses me.

  “Charming?” he asks.

  I laugh. “I know. It’s not his real name. But he promised to tell me by the end of the night, and if you ask me…” I wink at Trixie. “He’s hotter than even the great Mac Harker.”

  Trixie and Creeper exchange glances. Long glances. Then Trixie turns to me, and her face scrunches up.

  “Honey, you came here alone.”

  I stare at her. Was she serious?

  “Um, no I didn’t.” I laugh and place my mug down on the table. “You must have seen him. You were just in an all-out brawl with him.”

  Trixie shakes her head, her eyes glazing over with concern. “Um, no.”

  I turn to Creeper. “Well, I know you were out of it. He was in the living room, talking to Trixie when she, uh…wasn’t herself.”

  Creeper frowns at Trixie then regards me with cautious eyes. “No, I didn’t see anyone but you.”

  I turn to Trixie because he’s no longer any help. “You must have seen him! When I was possessed, I still had some awareness of what was happening. He’s the guy–the really hot guy—that drove that ghost out of you.”

  She doesn’t say anything. Sometimes silence is worse than someone saying something hurtful to you. I’d rather her call me crazy than sit there and stare at me like I’m an escaped mental patient that has to be handled with caution and can only eat with plastic spoons.

  Why was I even arguing with them about this? Obviously they’re shaken up, and that’s understandable. They have no idea what they’re talking about. I stand up, making the chair screech against the kitchen floor as I do.

  “This is ridiculous. Come with me.” I start for the walkway.

  Behind me, the sound of Trixie’s slow footsteps and the buzzing of Creeper’s wheelchair fill the otherwise quiet house.

  I stop near where the front door used to be. My heart beats lighter with relief. There he is, still standing in the front yard. Still staring up at the moon. I gesture toward him with my hand.

  “See, there he is.” I laugh and shake my head. “You guys have been through it tonight.”

  I expect embarrassed apologies. Flushed faces. Something. All I get is my two best friends staring at me like I’m about to jump off a cliff.

  “What?” I demand. I point hard at Charming’s back. “He’s right there.”

  Trixie’s gaze darts down to Creeper then back to me. She clears her throat. “Honey, there’s nobody there.”

  My face flushes with heat. “Stop playing around guys. It’s not funny.”

  Trixie spins toward Creeper. “What are the side effects of those pain killers you’re always giving her?” She sounds angry. Her hands would be planted on her hips if they weren’t wrapped up in a dozen blankets.

  He shakes his head. “Hallucinations are rare.”

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” I give each of them my hardest glare and march out into the yard, planting myself behind Charming.

  He turns and stares at me, his face all twisted up. He looks like a man who can’t understand the random workings of the world. Like he can’t figure out why I’m here.

  I try to ignore the sinking feeling that look gives me. There are more important things going on. Like the fact that my friends are going bat shit.

  “Are your friends all right?” he asks before I can say anything. “I mean physically, are they going to be okay?”

  “Yes,” I say, glancing back at them.

  “Good. Then we should go.”

  “Who are you talking to, Ley?” Creeper asks.

  I stare at them and gesture toward Charming in desperation. Trixie glances at Charming then toward me. With a small frown, she slowly walks toward me.

  “Maybe you better lie down.” She reaches out and touches my shoulder.

  I stare at her in confusion then glance at Charming. He looks at me with the look of someone battling something inside.

  “Yeah, Kinsley. We know this is a hard night for you. Why don’t you come inside?”

  I shake my head against Creeper’s suggestion. My eyes find their way back to Charming. “I don’t understand.”

  Charming sighs. “It’s a spell. No one sees me if I don’t want them to.” He glances back at my friends and shrugs. He looks almost remorseful. “Sorry. It’s for my protection.”

  Something stirs in my gut. The same something that told me earlier he wasn’t being quite honest with me. Only this time, it bugs me a hell of a lot more. Or maybe he’s not lying to me. Maybe I’m lying to me, or rather, maybe my mind is. Maybe it’s the night, or the pills, or a combination of both. I back away, raking my hands through my hair, and start hyperventilating.

  “Kinsley?” Charming inches toward me with concern laced in his voice.

  My hand shoots forward. “Stay away from me!”

  Not only does he stop right away, he backs off a few paces.

  “Ley.” Creeper’s chair buzzes to my side. He holds his arm up to me. “Come in, lay down. We’ll get through the rest of tonight together, then in the morning…” His eyes shift to Trixie.

  My eyes narrow. “In the morning what?” I back away from him, too.

  “Babe, just relax,” Trixie says in the soft voice I’ve heard her use on our clients when they’ve done something stupid to their computer and she has to inform them it’s going to cost three hundred dollars to fix.

  They both think I’m crazy. Not that I can blame them. I might think I’m crazy too. But Charming has to be real! I’ve felt his touch. I passed magic lines, something that would have been impossible without him.

  Charming makes a plea to me with his eyes. “Please, Kinsley. Come back with me.”

  Something occurs to me, and I raise an eyebrow. “If no one can see you, then why did you need my help hiding at the Harker estate?”

  He wavers.

  Aha! He is lying.

  Shaking his head, he says, “Just because they can’t see me doesn’t mean they can’t sense me with magic. Eventually.”

  His tone is so frail, I’m certain he doesn’t even believe what he’s saying. I nod to my friends. “Yeah, then
why can’t they hear you? Invisibility doesn’t make other people deaf.”

  His face wrinkles in frustration. “Invisibility isn’t a real thing.” His hands ball into fists. “And they can’t hear me for the same reason they can’t see me. I don’t know them. I don’t want them to see me.”

  The thing in my gut practically claws at me. Then his eyes widen, lifting me up into their impossibly blue hue. He clasps his hands in front of him as if in prayer.

  “Listen, I promise by morning everything will make sense. But I need you to come with me. Before the Harker look-outs come find us. If they find us, it will be over, and it can’t…” His voice breaks. “It can’t be over.”

  Something stronger than the thing in my gut takes over. It’s the thing in my heart. It tells me that no, he’s not been one hundred percent real with me, but he’s being real enough. And that something inside me won’t be able to resist his plea. I might as well not even pretend. I’m going with him.

  I turn to my friends. “I’ll call you guys in the morning.”

  Trixie races forward and grabs my arm. “No, you’re not going anywhere.”

  My gaze never leaves Charming. Gently, I pull my arm away from her. “Trust me.” I look into her eyes. “I’m going to be fine.” I reach out and take Charming’s hand. “I’ll call you in the morning. First thing.”

  Then I let Charming pull me toward my car.

  “Ley!” Creeper calls after me.

  Ignoring him, I stare at Charming as he opens the passenger side door.

  When I don’t get in right away, he gives me a strained smile. “We have to hurry. Please.”

  My shoulders slump, and I duck inside. He runs in front of the car, slips in, and starts the engine. Unlike when I get anywhere near it, the car starts immediately. As he drives down the road, I twist in my seat and peer behind me.

  Trixie and Creeper are in the middle of the street, flagging their arms in the air. I waggle my fingers at them. Even though they’re swiftly drifting from my line of sight, I can picture the worried looks on their faces. They probably think a ghost is carting me off. Guilt wraps itself around me. If it weren’t for Creeper and Trixie, I wouldn’t have gotten through the past year. And here I was, abandoning them for—at least according to them—a figment of my imagination.

  They shout my name into the night, and I turn around, staring at the road in front of me. We’re traveling a lot slower this time, so I’m not plastered to the seat.

  “You okay?” Charming asks.

  I turn my head toward him. “Thank you for helping my friends.”

  He nods, still staring at the road. “It’s no problem.”

  There are so many questions racing around in my head, each trying to outrun the other. The one that finally crosses the finish line isn’t anywhere near the most important.

  “Um, aren’t we going back?”

  He glances at me then tightens his grip on the wheel. “You in a hurry?”

  I bite my lip and look out the window. No one is outside, but I swear I can feel them. Their presence. The dead. Ready to slip on my skin and do something else I won’t be able to get over.

  “I can protect us for a while,” he says. “If you’re worried about that.”

  I almost laugh. “No, I’m not worried,” I lie. Wrapping my arms around myself, I add, “And no, I’m not in a hurry.”

  He nods. “Good.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He half-smiles. “One of my favorite places, and somewhere the Harkers can’t find us.”

  11

  CHARMING PULLS UP to a storage unit facility, uses some witchy trick to drive my car right through the gate, and parks in front of unit 304. I’m the one still riding a high from the pills I popped earlier, but at least my favorite place isn’t…this.

  I turn to him, and he’s just staring out the windshield, his face stretched into a relaxed smile. Seeing that look on his face stops me from mocking him. Seeing that look on his face makes me relaxed too. So relaxed, in fact, I feel like I could ooze right through my seat.

  Taking off my seatbelt, I clear my throat. “Um, why would this be one of your favorite places?”

  He jumps, almost like he forgot I was there, then turns to me. He looks surprised, like I should understand something I’m not getting. Like a storage unit should be one of my favorite places, too.

  “You’ve never heard of these?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Of a storage unit? Um, yes.” I shake my head. “Still don’t get the fascination. Unless you’re auditioning for one of those storage war shows.”

  He laughs and reaches for the door handle. Before getting out, he leans in toward me. “This is no mere storage facility. Come on.”

  The excitement in his voice is that of a little boy’s that’s just discovered his favorite toy or—I don’t know—boobs for the first time. It’s contagious, and it makes me smile. Makes me forget about all the craziness that has been going on tonight.

  When I step out of the car, a breeze hits me. It’s cold. Unusual for this time of year—or any time of year—in Texas. I rush to Charming’s side and start to warm up right away. That reminds me I still haven’t asked him about what happened when he was driving that spirit out of Trixie. About what my touch did to him. To us. But judging by the way he’s bobbing up and down, that question will have to wait.

  He smiles at me as he holds his hand out toward the hunter green door. “I think you’re really going to like this.”

  I return his smile.

  He looks away and focuses all his concentration on the door. With a wave of his hand, it rattles then rushes upward with a loud whoosh. I squint into the space, but it’s so dark, I can’t see anything.

  Charming waves his hand. Orbs form above each of his fingers, and he tosses them into the room. The space lights up a warm, lemon color.

  He gestures me onward with his head.

  I only hesitate a second before I saunter forward and stand in the middle of the space, twirling in a small circle. Holding my hands up, I stop moving when I face him again.

  “I don’t get it,” I say. “It’s empty.”

  He winks at me. Clearly, he’s in on something and decided not to take me with him. Why would anyone’s favorite place be an empty storage unit? Why would anyone want to show someone an empty storage unit?

  “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of this.” He shrugs. “Maybe because it’s a street witch thing.”

  I sigh and resist the urge to roll my eyes. “What’s a street witch thing?” I try and fail to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

  His face lights up with a smile, and suddenly I’m not feeling annoyed. I’m feeling transfixed. Same way I was in the attunement room. Charming stretches out one leg and bounces it near the entrance to the storage locker. The skin around his eyes crinkles with laughter. He’s become all light; none of the seriousness from his bout with Trixie remains.

  I laugh when he snatches his leg back from the entrance and shoots me another wink.

  “Okay, get on with it. Show me what’s so special about this place.”

  He grabs his chest, feigning disappointment. “I’m trying to give you a show here.”

  I smile as a flush enters my cheeks. “Oh yeah? Well, I do love a good show.”

  He laughs and raises his foot again. This time, rather than teasing me with it, he gently places it inside.

  Half the room comes to life. Symbols materialize on the walls, popping out at me with 3-D clarity. Handwritten messages and photographs hang from them as if they’d been there all along. I gasp and shift my gaze back to Charming.

  With the biggest smile on his face, he drags his other foot into the room, breathing life into the entire space with it.

  The other side of the room swims into focus. More symbols, drawings, and photos spackle the walls. In every corner, altars with burning candles and bowls full of salt and precious gems materialize. Shaking my head, I start to spin in circles again.


  It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m about to ask Charming what this place is when I hear whispering. Low, at first, and singular. Then more whispers pile on top of it. Soon, the entire room buzzes with the sound of low, human speech.

  My eyes widen, and I press my hands against my ears. Charming walks up to me, the smile still plastered on his face. He reaches out and gently pulls my hands away from my ears. Warmth shoots up my arms, like slipping under an electric blanket on a frosty evening.

  The buzzing starts dying down, and soon, it’s nothing more than that initial, solitary whisper.

  I have so many questions I want to ask, but all I seem to be able to focus on is the feel of his hands against my arms.

  “Well, what you think?”

  I stare up into his eyes and try to remember how to form words. When I don’t say anything right away, his face starts to fall, and I shake my head.

  “No.” My voice comes out thick. I clear my throat. “It’s amazing. I’ve just…never seen anything like it. What is this place?”

  The smile curls his lips back up. “A spell request room.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Like a place where people can come to request that spells be cast on their behalf.”

  I nod. “No, I figured. I’ve just never heard of anything like it.”

  He grins. “Clearly you’ve been studying the wrong kind of witches.” He squeezes my arms before letting them go, and his gaze flickers all around the room.

  “How do you know I research witches?”

  Without looking at me, he says, “You seem like the type.”

  I laugh. “There’s a type?”

  “Yeah,” he says, voice husky. His gaze finds me again. “You also seem like the type that until now has favored hereditary witches with their mysterious rituals and exclusivity.”

  My heart hammers against my ribcage. “Until now?”

  “Yeah, because until now, you didn’t know that much about street craft.” He smiles as he gestures around him with an outstretched hand. “A long time ago— like way back in the day—a street witch by the name of Anais had an insane thought.” He smiles. “She decided that magic should be used to help people, everyone, even those not born with the magic in their blood. Ever since then, small wars have been fought between hereditary witches and street witches over who should be able to utilize the craft. Finally, Anais said that familial witches could keep witchcraft, but that street craft would be for the people.”