Urban Decay: Darkly Mine Season One

by Leona Windwalker

  “They had 7-Ups, so that’s what I ended up getting,” Shannon said when I joined him in the break room.

  “Yeah, that’s cool. Pretty much the same stuff,” I told him.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Everything go okay with Lambert?”

  “Uh-huh. He just wanted to remind me what day the test was and which room to meet him in so I could take it.”

  “Cool. So, Henry said they’d gone to order a pizza to bring back, so they’d just make it a large. They were going to play some game in Henry’s room, but said, yeah, a movie would be fine seeing as you’re not feeling so well.”

  We rounded the corner of the building. The dorms were a straight shot up the path from here, so less than fifteen minutes later, we were standing outside of Henry’s door, waiting for him and Rusty to return. We talked about movies while we waited, arguing over which Stars Wars film was the best, spouting one-liners from Indiana Jones, and putting forward ideas as to who would make a great Batman for the next movie.

  “I’d like to see them do a retro Batman,” Henry said as he and Rusty strolled up. “Like the old TV one with Adam West where the words’ pow!’ and ‘wham!’ came up on the screen like in a comic book. They had the coolest corny jokes, too. I used to love watching them on the syndicated oldies channel Saturday mornings.”

  “That would be cool,” Shannon agreed. “It would appeal to nostalgia buffs and kids alike.”

  “Yep. Plus they could sell toys. Make the whole thing look sixties, ya know? Cars, clothes, sets, everything.”

  “Then they could do Superman the same way. That used to be a kids’ show, too. The fifties I think. Go with retro sets and the original suit and all that.”

  “So, what are we watching tonight?” I asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. These guys thought I was close in age to them in the actual time span of existence sort of way. I wasn’t, though. I was much older, and those shows they talked about came out decades after my rebirth as one of the undead. It was all retro kitsch to them, but to me, it was a trip down memory lane. I could remember buying my very first television set, a tiny screened black and white model by RCA that stood on spindly wooden legs.

  “Not superheroes,” I requested, afraid they’d continue down this route.” How about a comedy?”

  “Okay, let’s look to see what they have,” Rusty said. “I could watch a good comedy.”

  We ended up watching Big Trouble in Little China, which I hadn’t seen before. Then it was over and it was getting perilously close to the time I had to go grab my snack down at the shack. I excused myself, Rusty saying his good-byes and coming with me. Shannon decided it was time to go as well, eager to grab a shower and start reading some book his mother had sent him in a care package.

  Once we were alone, Shannon having gone his own way, I said to Rusty, “I’m not healing as well as I should so they’ve arranged for me to get a boost.”

  His eyes darted about. “You want me to come with?”

  “Nah, I’m just letting you know because I need to go now to meet them.”

  He looked relieved at my turning him down. I can’t say I blamed him, especially as he knew about feedings but had never actually witnessed one in all likelihood. It was one thing to understand something academically, but quite another to be there when it happened, especially when it came to killing someone. It was why not all of the Legacies ended up Made; it was not within everyone to kill, not even when it meant their own survival. Our bodies begin to weaken and decay, taking us into a false sense of safety. Maybe this time I won’t start to slide, or this time I can stop without killing. It doesn’t work, of course. Once we begin to pull their lifeforce out, it comes out. There’s no stopping it and we can either siphon it all or lose the rest to the ether, unlike one of the Old Ones. The outcome is the same for our victim, either way: dead as a doornail.

  Then there’s the other problem; not everyone can look into the abyss and come out sane. The Making can drive one mad. The bonding thing, too, that so nearly broke me, and I’m under no illusion that it very well could have done so to someone else. It’s why usually a Legacy has to prove themselves and why designated heirs are so carefully nurtured and watched. My own Making was unusual in that I was chosen spur of the moment, a nobody who was there by mere happenstance. It was a roll of the dice that I was there and thank God, when he Made me there that very night, I came up snake eyes. I was whole of mind and spirit, just undead. A kind of vampire, really, I suppose. A lich, as the Family call it. I just hoped that when Henry’s time came, he was as lucky. No. Luckier, both he and Rusty. Made, because it was their destiny but not bonded. If I’d known what would happen in particular, and how I’d feel afterward, I’d have declined and prayed they didn’t unMake me for it.

  “Okay,” Henry said. “See ya at breakfast.”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “See ya.”

  I slid my hands in pockets and began my trek to the boardwalk. As before, the professor was waiting for me. “You’re lucky. Tonight was a scheduled drop for our Sponsor,” he said. “We just had our guys grab another meal.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, aghast at how he made it sound like they’d sent out an Uber Eats order for two meal deals from a McDonald’s or something. Besides, earlier he had admitted they should have had a meal waiting for me to replenish myself after my bonding ordeal. It was lucky for him, really, that things had gone as smoothly as they had despite their failings.

  I trudged down the stairs behind him. He had the key this time and he opened the door to the shack. I stared wide-eyed at the scene before me. Three disheveled men sat bound and gagged on the floor of the shed, their eyes wide. Arrakus was sat crosslegged on the floor before them, naked a jaybird, without even the blanket preserving his modesty.

  Professor Lambert shut the door behind us.

  “Eatttt nnnooooowww,” Arrakus said.

  “Yes, my lord,” Lambert replied. “The boy is here now.” He looked at me. “Arrakus wanted to wait so he could share the meal with you.”

  Arrakus grinned. “Shhhhhare.” He stood up and took the few steps to reach the men. He knelt down beside one, stroking his cheek with a hand. Raising the hand back, it became a sharp claw, like that of a crab. It slashed downwards and all three men reared back as best they could. It was no use. The claw laid open the man’s cheek, diagonally from the temple to across his mouth. Arrakus opened his mouth, flicking out a suddenly long and thin tongue to lick the blood that flowed. The men sobbed, the one he’d cut trying to form words as he did so, despite the gag. Arrakus hummed, then with a glance at me, shivered all over.

  His body morphed, his torso and limbs becoming tentacles as they had during our bonding. The men were screaming in earnest now. He turned his distorted head to look at them, then grabbed the man next to the one he cut. He opened his mouth and it stretched into a giant maw, impossibly big, with double rows of jagged shark-like teeth. Lifting the man, he stuffed him into his mouth and bit. I closed my eyes, unable to watch.

  “Go on and feed,” the professor said, nudging me. I peeked through my eyelids at him. He looked decidedly green. “Usually he just drains them,” he said. “But sometimes he feasts upon their flesh. Feed from yours to spare him from suffering anymore.”

  He was right. Glancing over at the two men, their eyes were wide with terror, their bodies rigid with fright. I knelt next to the one he’d cut and placed my hands on either side of his face. “It’s okay now. I’ll make it stop,” I promised him. He looked relieved, probably hoping that I meant we would let them go now. Instead, I let my beast come out, me sclera turning pitch as night. I pulled at his life thread hard, to prevent him from being able to react. I drank him in greedily, knowing it was working. I was healing. I could feel the pain of my cracked rib knitting back together, my muscles repairing themselves, my bruising going through the final stages until they were gone. I dropped my hands then, as he had nothing left to give. Beside me, Arrakus was crawling on the floor, lapping up spilled blood.
He’d finished consuming both men, clothing, bindings, and all, as I fed.

  “Eeeeeat,” he said, glancing at the remains of my meal.

  “Yeah, you can have my leftovers,” I told him. “Thank you.” There’d be nobody to dispose of, at least, and the dead man was beyond caring about anything.

  Arrakus hugged the corpse to his body and began nibbling.

  “Let’s go. He’ll be some time now that he’s mostly full,” Lambert said. He bowed. “Thank you, Lord Arrakus.”

  I repeated the gesture. “Thank you, my lord.”

  We exited, Lambert locking the door behind us. He looked decidedly green. “I hate it when he does that,” he admitted, his voice a whisper.

  “Can’t he hear us?” I asked, tapping the side of my head.

  “Yes, if he chooses to listen. He doesn’t care about that, though. I rather think he likes knowing he scares us. Now, you best wait a bit longer, you have blood all over you from that. It won’t do if you’re spotted.”

  “Is this how we feed normally?”

  “No, this was Lord Arrakus’ request tonight, and we were bringing him his tithe, anyway. Usually, we give you a pass and go off-campus. We have a house where our meals are prepared. We have them brought in from all over and they’re held ready for feeding.”

  That answered that question, then. I felt relieved to know I wouldn’t usually be sprayed with gore like something out of a Hollywood horror flick.

  “I’m going to wash this off in the water,” I said, turning to wade in. The tide was still out, so it wasn’t too deep. I let the water swirl about me, then waded out. My shoes squelched, and I was soaked, but I didn’t care. It was easier to explain getting wet if someone happened to see me and stopped me to ask than it was to explain why I looked as if I had come from an abattoir.

  Professor Lambert watched me come out of the water, then walked away to go home., his stride betraying his eagerness to get away. I turned the other direction, back towards the campus dorms. It had been a long night and I was ready for bed.

  13

  “Wow, if I hadn’t seen you myself yesterday, I never would have believed you were in the state you were,” Shannon said, his eyes wide as his gaze landed on me.

  “He slept like a log,” Rusty said. “He didn’t even twitch when one of the guys next door decided to play video games with the sound turned up loud.”

  We were walking to breakfast, having met up outside the front room of the dorms. It was a bit on the early side, being not quite seven. That was alright, though. When Henry texted us all about fifteen ago and discovered we were all up already, he suggested pancakes and waffles at the diner, and we were all in. Even Shannon, who we got to agree to let us treat him.

  “Well, he obviously needed it. He looks like a new man.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, grinning wryly, knowing he had no idea just how close to the mark he actually was. “Think they have blueberry syrup? The IHOP always had blueberry syrup.”

  “Yeah, and real maple, too. Oh, and hot fudge sauce. You get to pick from a selection.”

  My mouth watered at the thought. It had been a long time since I’d eaten freshly made pancakes or waffles. Michael and I used to go every Sunday morning to the local IHOP for pancakes and waffles. He’d order waffles and I’d order pancakes, then we’d share. That stopped once he lost his appetite, another thing taken from us by his illness as it advanced. Just like the monthly trips to local thrift stores, looking for old furniture to upcycle and other treasures, as he liked to call them. I’d asked Gregory to store a couple of meaningful pieces of mine and Michael’s times together. The carnival glass fruit bowl, the old chest of drawers he turned into a hall occasional table that stored spare linens, and the old record player inside a wooden speaker cabinet, along with the records we’d both collected. I’d not kept anything from the others, but then, I’d not spent as many years with them nor spent time caring for them while ill. That bonded you to a person in ways you’d never expect, bringing a type of closeness you couldn’t otherwise achieve. I wanted to have something of his to remind me of those feelings he gave me as the long years unwound around me.

  “What’s wrong?” Shannon asked, sensing my change of mood.

  “Just remembering someone, we used to go out kinda like this, for pancakes and waffles.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I used to with my grams. She’d come up from where she retired in Florida, and she’d take my sister and me to the Waffle House, and we’d have breakfast for dinner. After she took us shopping for school supplies and coats.”

  I didn’t say anything else. It was better to let him assume it was something like that.

  “I just got cereal at home,” Henry said. “My dad would already be at work when I got up, and my mom never gets up before noon if she can help it. Good old Cap’n Crunch kept me company while I ate.”

  “I’m more a Cheerios fan myself,” Shannon said. “I can’t eat sugary cereal.”

  “Raisin Bran or cornflakes with sliced banana on top,” Rusty piped up.

  “I’m an eggs and bacon kinda guy, but if it has to be cereal, I like oatmeal. I like the instant raisin and spices one the best.”

  “You’re such an old man,” Shannon teased.

  Rusty and Henry both threw me speculative looks.

  “Yeah, well, I like what I like, and that includes you!”

  “Ohhh, you like him, huh?” Henry teased.

  “It’s not like that,” Shannon insisted, blushing.

  “And if I do?” I rejoined, coming to a standstill.

  Shannon stopped and looked at me, eyes wide. “But, when we talked you said-”

  “I talk a lot of shit sometimes, but today is not one of those times,” I replied.

  Rusty’s eyes darted between me and Shannon, a look of apprehension coming over his face.

  “I think you like me right me back, too,” I pressed on, heedless of the outcome.

  Shannon’s response was to fling himself forward, mashing his lips hard against mine. I kissed him right back, returning his passion. When we broke apart, we just stared into each other’s eyes, panting.

  “Well, shit,” Henry said.

  “That was fucking hot,” Rusty said. “But now can we go get breakfast before it’s too late?”

  Flustered, Shannon stepped back. I blushed, suddenly aware that we hade made it to the edge of the boardwalk and we were being stared at.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” I promised Shannon.

  He nodded, his expression happy. I hoped he still looked like that once I got around to telling him the truth about myself. If I was allowed to, I amended.

  Bbbeeelllloooovvvedddd.

  The whisper held a hint of wistfulness within it. I didn’t reply, but within me, the Old One’s response left me feeling hopeful. Perhaps I would be allowed Shannon, at least for while I was here, and he’d be safe.

  The bell over the door jingled as we entered the diner. Mornings it did breakfasts then, from lunchtime onwards, the menu was mostly burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Though you could also get a grilled cheese with a side of tomato soup, that’s what Rusty brought me while I was in bed recovering. It had been the best comfort food ever, almost as good as when my mother made a pot of her chicken noodle soup. That had just been leftover scraps chicken boiled off the bones, a stock cube, and some spaghetti noodles tossed into a pot, but it had been heaven to me as a small boy when I’d suffered from a cold.

  The bite from the early autumn morning chill dissipated as the warmth washed over us. My cheeks stung from the sudden change, but it was a welcome feeling. On impulse, I grabbed Shannon’s hand as we entered, tugging him towards an open booth in the back. I slid into the seat, Shannon not letting go as he took his place beside me. Smiling, I looked over at him. His cheeks were pink, as were the tips of his ears, but I was willing to bet it wasn’t all because of the cold. Taking their places across from us, Henry began to tease us with a grin, Rusty joining in. “River and Shan
non, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-”

  They were cut off by the voice of a very amused looking waitress. “And what can I get you, boys?”

  “Coffee to start, please,” I replied.

  “Same,” said Shannon.

  “I’ll also take coffee, but I’d like a side of orange juice with it, please,” Rusty said.

  “Chocolate milk for me,” Henry said.

  “Okay, I’ll be back with these in a minute. You boys look over the menu and I’ll take the rest of your order shortly.”

  I reached over and took the laminated menu sheets out from behind the mini jukebox on the table. I handed one to Shannon first, then Rusty. There were only two menus, so we had to share.

  “What do you want, baby?” I asked Shannon, the endearment slipping out. I’d seen him put away more than that at the school cafeteria.

  He smiled faintly, his ears pinking up, even more, confirming my earlier guess. The blueberry waffles with bacon look good,” he said, pointing to an entry. Two waffles made with blueberries, choice of syrup, and topped with whipped cream. It came with three strips of bacon.

  “Is that going to be enough?”

  He glanced away. “With the coffee, that’s already over five bucks.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” I told him gently. I reached over and took his chin. “You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine, okay? What’s good having money if I can’t use it to benefit you as well as me?”

  He licked his lips. “Okay. Ah, that really will be fine, but can I have an extra side of bacon with it? And a fried egg?”

  “Want any juice?”

  “Nah. I’ll just have a refill on the coffee if I need it.”