Urban Decay: Darkly Mine Season One

by Leona Windwalker

  I was lonely and I knew that our kind did not fare well in solitude. I yearned for the warm touch of another, to keep the coldness of my existence at bay. I craved the passion that once lit my sheets on fire as I pounded into willing flesh and was reamed in return. I hungered most of all for companionship, someone who got me, the man, and didn’t see me as just the lich I’d become when I shed my humanity. Instead of sleeping in before going to troll night clubs and bars as I had in the past, looking for someone to give me temporary physical relief until I found someone I could trust my secret to again, I found myself making a visit to Father. I was a bit irked as I had, at last, talked myself into looking for a hookup, but one did not refuse Father. Doing so came with dire consequences; he gave us our immortal life, but he could also take it away. I’d seen it happen with my own eyes, even. The night I stumbled into Father’s lair while looking for a place to hide from the cops, Father was having a meeting with Uncle Stefan and several men I recognized from the news headlines as being local high society folks. One of them was on his knees, weeping. They’d turned to me, and I knew then I was dead. I’d thought I’d walked in on a kidnapping or a mob hit or something. I had, only the man on his knees had angered Father, refusing to bring him his due.

  Father had looked at me, asked me my age, and then asked me if I wanted to live. I did and told him so. I watched in horror as he had several burly men hold me next to the weeping man. Father reached a hand out to each of us, touching the pulse points of our necks. He pulled his gift from the other man while draining me to the point of death, before gifting me with a new life. I passed out, waking up in the dank cellar beneath Stefan’s house. I was held there while they explained what I was and the expectations placed upon me. The dead body of the man I now saw was a well-known local banker, Niles Carter. He lay on a table near me, embalmed and awaiting makeup. Uncle Stefan explained to me the cost of transgressions. Not only was Mr. Carter dead, but his wife soon would be and their children removed from the legacy. I got the message, clear as day. Don’t fuck up, and if you do, make sure it doesn’t piss off Father.

  Father’s current lair was much more ordinary. He lived in a Craftsman-style house next to a graveyard, the grief from visitors feeding him as much as devouring someone’s life did us all. He’d lived there fifteen years now, and I knew in another five to ten years, he’d have one of Aunt Rebecca’s offspring sell it while he moved elsewhere with Raymond, his keeper. Raymond did all of the chores outside and did the usual things people expected to see, such as grocery shopping. He’d carry it in from the car parked on the drive, only to reload it at the end of the week while the car was parked for the night inside the garage. He’d go drop it off at the local food pantry, seeing as it was all canned goods, and go buy more to carry on the charade.

  Today, though, Raymond was my taxi. As usual, he was a fantastic conversationist.

  “So, I heard the news about Bumble Bee tuna and thought, damn, really? Price fixing fish? I felt better about having moved with the times and ordering some of the stuff from Amazon, ya know? I buy that line and pole caught tuna that’s certified not to have been sourced from an area of the sea marked as overfished by conservationists. It comes in a red can with a blue and grey pair of crossed fishing poles on the front. Better for the world and it makes us look more normal ‘cause we get deliveries from Amazon like everyone else,” he said.

  Yep, just brilliant. Thankfully, he liked to chatter and required only the occasional grunt from me to signify I was listening. I didn’t mind. Except for times like this, he generally did not get a chance just to talk. He was always silent around Father, taking care of his responsibilities as unobtrusively as possible while Father slumbered and playing personal assistant while he was awake.

  The car pulled up in front of the house and he parked it out on the drive. “Just going to show you in then dash off. The storm the other night knocked the guttering loose, and since it’s not raining today, I’m going to get up there and fix it, after cleaning them out. Just have to go fetch some bits and pieces from the hardware store first.”

  I felt relieved at hearing this. If it were something serious, Father would have had Raymond there at the very least. Unless he was headed to the store for black bags and bleach. That thought turned my veins to ice water. No, no, Raymond’s car was the only one here. Niles Carter had been the last to be disciplined by Father, and the Family’s branch heads all had been present to bear witness. Father must have a task for me. That was a rarity in itself; usually, I was just on clearance duty, moving the bodies of unfortunate mortal souls who crossed the wrong family member to their peril.

  Father was in the sunroom, looking out the windows at the trees along the back fence that kept prying eyes from glimpsing inside. He didn’t turn to face us when Raymond led me into the room and announced, “Laurent’s here now, sir,” before scurrying away.

  Still gazing outside, Father said, “Laurent, you were what, seventeen when I made you?”

  Taken aback, I replied. “Yes, sir. Almost eighteen. It was three months short of my birthday.” I made a habit of feeding short once I’d learned that trick, leaving faint age lines around my eyes and mouth to make me look older. It made it easier to get into bars, for one thing. For another, it didn’t raise eyebrows like seeing a teenaged boy out and about in the early hours of a weekday morning would.

  “Good, good.” Father turned his head to regard me. “The time has come for you to take your full place.”

  I froze. This was unexpected. I had a GED, as Uncle Stefan had made me, but I had no special skills except for being able to get rid of bodies without tying them to us forensically. I wondered what my new role within the Family was to be.

  “My brothers and I have seen the need to expand certain services for our Families,” Father said. “One of the areas is in medicine to better cater to our kind and their legacies.” His obsidian eyes met my own. “The importance of this was hammered home quite recently when the Montgomerys’ only heir crashed his car. He died before he could be retrieved to be Made.”

  Was I to train as a paramedic to extend coverage?

  “It’s been decided that we will be buying some older hospital buildings, clustering around the larger pockets of our population. They are being modernized and fitted. What we need are doctors, to deal with everyday illnesses among the still mortal offspring of the Families. My brothers and I will be taking up residence at the hospital, the top floors being converted into living quarters as well as offices for staff. That way, should another accident occur, one of us will be on hand to do what’s necessary to keep this from happening again. It’s not foolproof as human paramedics might still be called and arrive first, taking them to the wrong hospital, but it’s better.” He gave me a dazzling smile. “You will need to do a full feed, make yourself look the age you were when changed. Raymond will see to it tonight, and then in the morning, he’ll drive you to the airport for your first semester. You’ll be taking over the Montgomery boy’s place at Hilliard and your courses have already been selected. You just need to get there for the start of classes.”

  Hilliard was a small, exclusive college upstate, filled with the wealthy Legacy offspring of prominent Family members and children of the elite who might be worthy of joining our ranks, along with a sprinkling of gifted scholarship students who might prove to be useful contacts later.

  “I understand, sir.”

  He looked back out the window. “I certainly hope so. You need to get your degree and go on to attend a good medical school, without it looking suspicious that you managed to get in. That means getting top marks and earning letters of recommendation outside of the Family, from faculty and places you volunteer at as part of your pre-med track. You are establishing yourself as River Montgomery, and it’s a publicly visible role.”

  I swallowed. This was big, alright. Me, a doctor, and taking over the actual life of a billionaire’s only kid.

  “What do I do if someone recognizes I’m not h
im?” I asked.

  Father kept staring, his eyes never blinking in the unnerving way he had. “River attended a Legacy only boarding school. His classmates have been informed as has the rest of the Family. Their staff is sourced from within, so that’s also not an issue. You just have to go in and act the part. Now, go. You can wait in the front room for Raymond to return.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. “Thank you for this opportunity,” I said before fleeing.

  4

  Raymond settled me into an empty bedroom for the night, then disappeared off to clean and repair the guttering. That night, he brought me dinner, the young woman who’d bought River Montgomery the alcohol and gave him the party drugs the night of his crash. She was a Legacy, too, from one of the junior ranking families who filled the roles of personal staff to the higher ranking members. It was a shame. He’d have gone on to college and become a doctor instead of me, and she’d have proved her worth after working as a maid or a secretary or something like that for a few years and not doing anything stupid. They’d have both been Made. Instead, River was dead, I was taking his place, and she was making it all possible for topping me up to full so that I regained the rest of my youthful appearance and supernatural vigor. At least her death was not in vain, as his was.

  The next morning saw Raymond rousing me for a breakfast flight. Fully restored, I could now go through the motions of eating and drinking without ill effect. Raymond has been made sometime in his thirties, five or six centuries ago, so his looks at full restoration were of a mature man. He kept himself well-fed and apparently loved the taste of human food as long as he didn’t have to cook it. This meant that he loved excuses to eat out and this was one of them. He pulled into a local fast food drive-thru and placed a breakfast order for us both to eat on the way to the airport. He raised a hand in greeting at some middle-aged woman going inside.

  “That’s Mrs. Blanchard from across the road. She comes every morning and grabs a caramel drizzle mocha to go. She goes inside so she can add several more sugars to it without risk of spilling it all over her lap,” he informed me. “She’ll ask me later who you are, and I’ll tell her that you’re my cousin’s son and how proud of you we are because you’re starting at Hilliard. I’ll mention that your parents asked me to take you to the airport as your mother hated saying good-bye and you’d spent the last week of summer with a friend from boarding school who lives nearby.”

  I had to hand it to him. It added credibility to the image of him being a regular guy living an ordinary life in their neighborhood as well as answer any questions she might have about who I was and what we were doing.

  I’d finished my breakfast sandwich and hash browns by the time we arrived at the airport, but not my coffee, thanks to how close it was. When he popped the trunk and paid a porter to load the suitcases in the back onto his cart, I was only mildly taken aback. Just when had this kid died, that Raymond had enough time to buy me luggage and clothes? It was then that I kicked myself. It had likely been weeks ago, no doubt close to the time I’d lost Michael. I’d sequestered myself away for a few weeks after that, swallowed in grief. I had been out of touch with the latest news and goings-on with the Families so that I wouldn’t have heard about it. Losing a legacy like River would have been a huge deal.

  “Here’s your ticket,” Raymond said. “And don’t forget your wallet,” he added, handing me a wallet. It wasn’t brand new, but it certainly wasn’t overly worn. It looked expensive. I knew without a doubt it had been River’s, passed along to me to make my things looked as if they were lived-in, that I was used to having these kinds of things.

  “Thanks,” I replied. I flipped it open. Two black credit cards stared out at me as well as a bank card.

  “You’ll have to get a new driver’s license,” he said, leading me to the gate where I needed to be. “That’ll be handled while you’re at school. They’ll take your picture today for your school I.D. The secretary is a Legacy and she’ll be providing us with a copy of the photo.”

  “Great,” I said. It genuinely was; Raymond was letting me know they would be using the photo to get me a driving license for this state, in River’s name. When I had the time, that is. I imagined I’d be pretty busy studying as it’s been more than half a century since I last went to school. “Um, how am I getting on the plane?”

  “It’s your dad’s plane,” he said. “Okay, you’re here.” He turned and tipped the porter who handed my luggage over. I watched as it was whisked away, out onto the tarmac.

  “I’m your pilot today, Mr. Montgomery,” a man in uniform said. “My name is Richard. If you follow me, we’ll get you settled. It’s an hour’s flight, so it won’t take long.”

  Right. Billionaire’s kid, so a private plane.

  “There’s a dossier on your phone,” Raymond said, pressing an iPhone into my hand. “Read it on the flight over. It explains your parents’ public background and anything you might need to know to fit in. Delete it afterward.”

  Great. I hoped it was concise; an hour didn’t give me much time.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, hurrying after Richard. I finished my now cold coffee while we sat on the tarmac, waiting for permission to take off. Twenty minutes later, I’d left Laurent DeGaul behind as River Montogomery flew towards his future.

  I studied the document on my phone. Raymond had made a study guide for me that consisted of bullet points. The Montgomerys were old money; the fortune founded after Lionel Montgomery became a railroad baron. That would be River’s grandfather as he was Made after he’d amassed his fortune and secured connections. The public version was that he was a great-great-grandfather. River’s father was a property lawyer working for a property management and investment firm, the youngest of his grandfather’s children. He’d attended Hilliard around the time I was made, which made us peers age-wise. Interesting. He currently plays the role of the grandson to one of his older brothers. None of that mattered for now. I just needed to know the public story- fortune from a railroad baron, father a lawyer and full partner in a prestigious firm (all Legacies), mother a socialite who was involved in charity fundraisers that did things like provide toilets in third world countries and buy books and supplies for underfunded public schools in our own country.

  River had listed his public service as reading to the elderly at local nursing homes during his school breaks and answering phones at his G.P.’s office. On his college application, his hobbies had been sailing and golf. I had no idea how to do either. Thankfully, I wasn’t there on a scholarship for either, so I could probably simply avoid either activity.

  We landed at a smaller, regional airport just outside the town limits, and I found myself greeted by a driver sent by the school. He loaded my bags into the car and we drove off. Hilliard was a thirty-minute drive along the coastal communities from there. I studied the document right up until the moment we drove up to the gates, then deleted it as instructed. There was no sense disobeying a common-sense directive like that. It lowered the risk of someone getting hold of my phone and managing to see what was on it, in which case, that file would look very fishy to a non-legacy seeing it. I have enough on my plate without borrowing trouble.

  It was obvious when we arrived. Massive stone pillars with wrought iron gates with Hilliard in brass lettering spelled out across them opened once the driver entered a code. While he did that, I double-checked that the document was completely deleted, not in the cloud attached to the account or anything. It wasn’t, thankfully. I’m not ashamed to admit I spent the rest of the ride up to the school gawking. The campus was huge.

  “I had no idea it would be so big,” I said.

  “You didn’t come for a campus visit then?” the driver asked in reply.

  “No, I wasn’t able to.” If this guy didn’t know who I really was, he obviously either wasn’t high up enough in the Family to be in the know, or he was a local human they hired just to provide this service.

  “It is big. The campus that is. It has it
s own pizza parlor, coffee shop, and burger joint, plus a bookstore like you’d expect, all along the beach frontage. The prep school is down the drive that way,” he pointed to a road that branched off from the main road, “and the college’s main buildings are further down this road. The college dorms are a bit further on.”

  I knew about the prep school. It was another school for legacies, just like the one that River had attended in California. Many of the students who attended Hilliard’s prep school would attend Hilliard’s college as well, before going on to higher degree programs elsewhere along with mundanes.

  The college came into view, the main building an imposing structure of gray stone, complete with a stone archway over the door. It looked more like a cathedral than a school, having an even more church-like vibe than the converted one I’d shared with Michael. A pang stabbed through my heart at the memory of our home and our life together there. I shoved it aside. Wallowing would do me no good. I had a long life ahead of me and the offer of a fresh start with a more important place within the Family. This was my ticket out of the deepest shadows. I wouldn’t have to skulk about looking for my meals. They’d be provided, and someone else would have to deal with the cleanup and any fallout if their role in a death or disappearance were uncovered. And once it was my turn to inherit the role of head of the Montgomery clan, I’d be virtually untouchable thanks to my extreme wealth and the connections my position would bring. I also had a real chance of meeting a Legacy to spend my life with, someone who was either already Made or who would be. This was my brass ring, and I was damned well grabbing it.

  5

  A woman in a severe suit stood on the steps in front of the door, a young man on the level behind her. I climbed out of the car without waiting for my driver to open the door for me. The woman walked down the steps and addressed the driver. “He’s in B wing. Take his bags around; someone will be there to take them up to his room.”