Darker Streets: Heir Of November: Darker Streets (Uncollected Anthology Book 4)

by Phaedra Weldon

  Darker Streets

  Heir Of November: Darker Streets (Origin Story)

  Phaedra Weldon

  Caldwell Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  The Uncollected Anthology

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2015 by Phaedra Weldon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Caldwell Press.

  Originally published for the Uncollected Anthology.

  Cover Design © 2015 by Trap Door.

  Thank you for purchasing and reading Darker Streets. It would be greatly appreciated if you could take a moment and leave an honest review of this novel within the guidelines of your favorite retailer.

  QUALITY CONTROL: If you find typos or formatting problems, please contact ph8dra@comcast.net so they may be corrected.

  If you want to be notified when Phaedra's next novel is released and get free stories and occasional other goodies, please sign up for her mailing list by going to: http://tinyurl.com/n4vrpwc

  one

  My heart pounded against my ribs as I gasped for breath. My knee-high boots with their hard heels slapped against water-strewn asphalt. Streetlights reflected in puddles as water splashed up as high as my hips. My arms pumped as I ran and I listened to the sound of my uncle beside me, keeping up with me.

  I turned right to get off the sidewalk and stopped short inside an alley. The first character to die always made the wrong turn into a blind alley. I knew that! And yet…I did it.

  "There's…no…way out…" Uncle Ren said, his voice harsh before he coughed. I jogged further into the alley just to check. Maybe there was a back entrance to a store or a basement door. Nothing. Just refuse and the stink of week-old garbage.

  I ran back toward the entrance of the alley where my uncle leaned against the wall. A streetlight across the way illuminated part of his face. I couldn't stop myself from smacking his arm in frustration.

  "Hey," he hissed and looked at me. The shadows swallowed his face. "What'd you do that for?"

  "Following me," I said and realized I, too, was out of breath. "You…I was…just fine…"

  "No. You were running," he said.

  "We're both running. Let's get out of here and—"

  The streetlight went out with a spray of sparks. They bounced on the sidewalk below before winking out. Within seconds, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. "Ren?"

  "I'm right here." I heard his foot on the asphalt, and then felt his warm touch on my bare arm.

  "What the hell's going on? What was that thing back there?"

  "It's—"

  Laughter whispered in the dark. Soft, bell-like at first as it slipped around my legs and sent chills up my spine. I clung to Ren as he moved in front of me, away from…whatever this was.

  The movement of light dimly lit the street, the buildings with their black windows, and the asphalt beneath our feet. It came closer as it turned the corner and stood at the entrance to the alley.

  At first, the light hovered about as high as my head. The lower part of it extended and I swore it looked like blood as the light pooled on the ground. But it never lost the tenuous connection to the hovering part of itself. I thought of a taffy puller I'd seen once in a candy factory, and watched in morbid fascination as the center widened and shaped itself into a the silhouette of a woman.

  An inner light glowed in the dark alley and I could see all of her. Her pale skin, her ruby red lips and red eyes. Her dark hair moved like smoke around her body and I followed it, watched as it lazily circled her long arms—arms that ended in long fingered talons.

  "What…the hell, is it?" I whispered aloud. I prayed Ren knew.

  "Demoness," he said as he stepped back, forcing me to move back as well.

  "Oh…dear Ren…" the woman said in a voice as melodic as her laughter. It filled the alley, lay down on the ground and covered the sky. "Surely you plan on introducing me to the newest heir?"

  Heir? I grabbed his upper arms. "Heir? How did she know I was an heir?"

  "That's…not what she means," he said. He didn't look back at me. Ren kept his gaze locked on this…wait, did he call her a demoness?

  "Oh my…how have the Cavanaugh fallen? Mmm?" She glided forward. Closer. Too close. I backed up and pulled Ren with me. The wisps that kept her modestly covered reached out to touch me and I batted them away like errant bees. "Where is he? I have a bone to pick with him."

  "He's not here."

  "Is this not the heir?"

  I looked from Ren to the demoness and back again. "Who is she talking about?"

  "November," the demoness said. "Your chevalier. Your sword."

  Sword? What the hell? I don't have a sword. I could barely swing a baseball bat. And honestly, I hadn't touched one since what…sixth grade? "I don't—"

  Ren elbowed me. "I told you, he is not here."

  Her eyes narrowed as she watched. I wanted to look away from her and at the same time, I wanted to destroy her. It wasn't a conscious thought. More like an afterthought. A moral imperative.

  "How did you escape, Abbadon?" Ren said in a louder voice. "The Dark Streets are meant to hold your kind."

  "How isn't important," she said as she took another inch or two of the space between us.

  Without warning, those tendrils of smoke shot forward and wrapped themselves around Ren's body. They encircled his arms, legs, torso and his head. I tried to keep a hold of him but the brush of that smoke against my fingers felt like ice. Dangerous ice that could turn flesh into a solid, breakable mass. I heard my uncle try to speak as he struggled, but within seconds he became a black smoke cocoon and the demoness's red eyes focused on me. "He's always been a bore, but he'll be fun to torture. As for you…"

  I screamed when the smoke encircled me. It poked and prodded me even as it held me still. I felt it enter my ears, my nose and my mouth, silencing any screams until my world became one of dark smoke and laughter.

  Her laughter.

  "There is no contract!" The joy in her voice filled the spaces in my head. I couldn't see her, but I could feel her all around me.

  What contract? That's what I wanted to shout, but I couldn't move.

  Her laughter crescendoed as the smoke tightened. I gasped for breath but tasted only the sooty foulness of her being. "It is done. The Cavanaugh line ends tonight and November will never come again!"

  I felt the smoke break apart my flesh as it cleaved through muscle, vein and finally bone.

  two

  "NO!" I scrambled around my bed and eventually landed on my head on the floor. The nightmare—Christ, was that what it was?—still lingered in my head, as did the foul, foul taste of it on my tongue.

  "I have never seen you have a nightmare before."

  That was my roommate's voice. If Stana was home, then I was already late for class. I rolled over and looked up at her.

  Stana McMillian was taller than me, prettier than me, and knew how to dress for success. She also got better grades than me. But that wasn't saying much. A slug could get better grades than me. She was a business major with a 4.0. I'd declared my major four times in two years.

  It wasn't that I wa
s a slow learner or anything—I just wasn't motivated. I come from a rich family. I have a trust fund. There's very little I'll ever want for in my life. The only reason I was even in college was because my Uncle Ren insisted and promised to delay my trust payments if I didn't get a degree in something.

  "I don't have nightmares," I mumbled. It was the truth. I couldn't remember ever having a bad dream. Or falling out of bed. "Might be that pizza from last night."

  "Or that last drink you had at Mephisto's." Stana stood in front of her dresser, reapplying her rosy pink lipstick. "I mean come on. It glowed blue."

  I grinned. Yeah it had.

  "It looked like weird antifreeze."

  I belched and scratched my hair. "Didn't taste as sweet, though."

  "If you get up and shower you could make your second class."

  Second class. That would be…I scratched my neck. I wasn't sure at that moment. My head was still packed with black smoke and the screams of my uncle. "Nah…I don't feel good. Think I'm just gonna stay in bed." I plopped back down on my bed and hung my legs off the side.

  Stana smacked her lips and smiled at me in the mirror. "You look awful." She pointed at her hair, but I knew she meant mine. "The blue's new."

  "Yeah." I kept my hair in a reasonably easy bob at my shoulders. Sometimes it was a little longer, like now, and as soon as I got my next deposit I planned on getting it all shaved off. I liked the pink and blue. Went with my violet eyes. But hair was overrated. Especially when everyone judged me on mine.

  If there were two more different roommates in the building, I didn't know them. Stana was tall, blond, statuesque and lithe. Her nose made a little upturn above a perfect little mouth and pointy chin. She never looked tired, and managed to dress in the latest fashions from Forever 21 and look cool.

  Me? Well…I had a style I liked. I loved the color black and when I opened my closet in front of people; they said it looked like a black hole. There were a few grays mixed in. And I thought I saw a purple scarf in there once. I kept my lipstick and my eye makeup dark, along with my nails. Someone might say I was goth, but that was so nineties.

  Or was it eighties?

  I looked at my Ninja Turtle panties and Club Hell t-shirt. Stana slept in pink and white nightgowns with matching robes.

  Her side of the room looked like an ad for "Southern Living." Mine? No comment. I think we can all infer from context.

  "Just don't forget we have chem lab tonight." She patted my head and then looked at her hand. "Wow…your hairspray helmet has dust in it."

  My phone rang the opening bars to Fall Out Boy's "Immortal" from somewhere in the mess of my half of the room. I dove into the bed and pulled up the sheets, then hung over the side and looked underneath.

  "It's right here," she grinned. "Oh, it's that good looking uncle of yours."

  I rolled over and grabbed it from Stana's fingers. "He's not good looking." I knew it was a lie. He was.

  "Yeah, he is. Even you have to admit that. Exactly how is he your uncle? I mean he's what…same age?"

  "No he's not." The phone continued to ring. Honestly, I had no idea how old Ren was. He'd been my guardian since my parents died. Always there when I needed him, but in the past few years, he'd spent a lot of time with his mom, my grandmother. Her health hadn't been the best and he'd always been dedicated to her. "Mushi sushi."

  Uncle Ren gave me a tight sigh on the other end. "Only you would mess up a Japanese phone greeting."

  I loved my uncle. I assumed he was gay since I never saw him with a woman, and he'd been the best sub-parent ever! Except for making me go to college and threatening me with money. And yeah…he was good looking. Metal gray hair that made me think he was older, which he kept at a length the rest of my family disapproved of. His most striking feature was his eyes. He had expressive brows and really dark eyes. "Why are you calling so early?"

  "It's three in the afternoon, Taylor," he sighed. "Did you just wake up again? Miss your morning class?"

  I didn't answer.

  "They're going to throw you out, you know that. You won't pass this quarter either."

  "Come on, Ren. It's not like I really need this degree."

  "You need to learn responsibility. You need a purpose. And up until now, you haven't had one."

  It was the old speech, the old rah-rah-rah, he always gave me to be a better person. I felt guilty. I really did. He'd tried so hard with me over the years. He'd even let me express myself. Except for tattoos. He never approved of those. And now that I was twenty-one, I could get them if I wanted.

  But I never had.

  I wondered if I should tell him about my nightmare. Then something he said seemed a little odd. "What do you mean up until now?"

  "I have bad news, Tay. Your grandmother passed away last night."

  "Grandma Cavanaugh?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "Oh Ren…I'm so sorry." After all, she was Ren's mom.

  "Yeah. She hadn't been doing well for a while. Pack your bags. I'll be there in an hour."

  "For what? The funeral? Ren…she lives in New Orleans."

  "Yep. Where the party never ends and the streets run a little darker. There's an entire family eager to meet you. Be ready, or I swear I'll pack you in the car in your panties and t-shirt." He disconnected.

  I stared at the phone, wondering how he knew what I was wearing. Stana said bye and left. I stuck my tongue out at the phone, dropped it on the floor, and curled back up under my sheets.

  I thought I heard a familiar bell-like laugh as I closed my eyes.

  three

  The drive to New Orleans was the strangest one I'd ever experienced. Ren took that opportunity to give me a run down of the family members that would be at the wake. It was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, given the tradition to put the body to rest within three days of passing.

  Most of the people he mentioned I'd never heard of, and it was doubtful I'd remember them ten seconds after he described them. So we decided quick CliffsNotes when we got to the estate was a better idea.

  The estate—that was an eye opener. I mean I knew I came from money but…

  The Cavanaugh estate looked like a caricature of every antebellum mansion I'd seen on TV and at the movies. And the drive up to it? Rose bushes and cypresses lined the pebbled drive as Ren maneuvered his SUV up to the house. He parked to the right of the circular drive. The pending weather had held out till then and the overcast sky darkened with the distant sound of thunder.

  I got out, stretching my legs. The pebbled drive felt odd under my boots, and the humidity instantly created a thin layer of perspiration around my neck and chest. I'd worn dark leggings, a crop top and my favorite sleeveless hoodie. It was thigh length and had a pocket along the inside to keep things. Mostly, I kept gum and hard candy in there.

  Wow, Louisiana was hot.

  Stiflingly so.

  The door to the estate opened, and I turned to watch a parade of men and women in black and white uniforms file out. They walked to Ren and the one at the head of the line spoke in a quiet voice. I shrugged and walked toward the fountain in the center of the drive. Three tiers with a single bubbling fountain on top. Gobs of algae hung off the tier edges and floated in the gathered water. It smelled like algae and I saw shiny coins inside.

  "Hey," Ren said as he approached me. "They're taking the suitcases up to our rooms. Yours is on the second floor, third door on the right. I'm on the opposite side."

  I nodded. "So…" I looked over his shoulder at the army of people. "Are all of those Granny's servants in the house or something?"

  "Not all of them. Mom kept maybe five? The others belong to extended family members. You can't tell from the lack of cars, but all of the family is here."

  "Really?" Now I was nervous. I really hadn't given the trip much thought—especially since I'd just learned of Granny's death five hours ago. And now I was here. And the whole Cavanaugh family was inside this one building. I looked at the windows. Lots of windows. And in
at least five of them, I thought I saw people looking down at me. "Ren…" I refocused on him. "They're all staring at me."

  He glanced back at the house as the last of our luggage went inside. Ren looked back at me laughing. "Tay…I don't think most of these guys have seen pink and blue hair before."

  I'd give him that. But it didn't really make me feel anymore comfortable.

  "And…" he said and put his hands on his hips. "They're all trying to get a good look at the Heir of November."

  The Cavanaugh line ends tonight and November will never come again!

  Those words from my nightmare came back loud and clear in my head. I remembered the dreamed conversation with Ren. I also remembered it made no sense.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Heir of November?" I searched his face. "You wanna fill me in on that?"

  "Ah, yeah. I meant to tell you about that in the car but it just…" he reached up and scratched his head. "It just never seemed to be the right time. And besides, Great Uncle Morris will fill you in."

  "Great Uncle Morris?" Okay, now my nervous became a full on panic. "You mean the Morris Cavanaugh?" The head of the Cavanaugh Corporation? I'd seen articles written about this guy. He'd been on Shark Tank and actually fired Donald Trump. This guy had his hands in everything, and he was powerful.

  And…

  "Breathe, Tay," Ren put his hand on my shoulder. "Just one breath at a time."

  "What…what is he going to fill me in on?"

  "About you being the heir. About November."

  "What, that he's my chandelier?"

  My uncle's face twisted as he tried not to laugh as he let go of me. "Chevalier. Not chandelier. And where did you hear that?"

  "Would you believe I had a nightmare this morning?" I told him in as great a detail as I could what I remembered of the dream. And after a good ten minutes, I realized I remembered all of it.