Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Because your boss, Marcus Korr, won’t let you leave me alone.”

  “How the hell do you know my boss? And where I work?” I stand up and take a step back, afraid that he’s going to do that weird mind thing again. I temporarily forgot that he’s dangerous to me, in some strange way I’ve never experienced before.

  As if he can read my thoughts, he puts up his hands in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to hurt you, Thea. I won’t do that . . . thing again.”

  “Okay.” But I’m not sure I trust him. Like I said, I don’t really trust anyone.

  “Sit down. Please.” He picks up his glass and takes a long drink of the whiskey. “There are some things I need to tell you about The Center.”

  When I first started working for Marcus, I felt like the luckiest fucking person on earth. I mean, I was laughed out of the academic community. And then was found by someone who not only understood and respected what I wanted to study, but had a job for me doing that exact thing.

  My first job involved a mysterious creature in the western suburbs of Chicago. Prior to being hired, I’d read news stories about it. Suburban dog killed in backyard. Strange bite marks on neck. The stories went on to explain that the blood of the dog had somehow been drained—not lost and soaked into the ground. But gone. With barely any mess.

  Rumors ran rampant about creatures that could have caused it, and before I’d met Marcus, I was already interested. I knew it was something supernatural. A cryptid, maybe. And when Marcus approached me in the coffee shop, I had a feeling he’d send me to find that particular animal.

  He asked me if I was scared, and I said, truthfully, no. I don’t scare easily. And anyway, the excitement I felt about the job would have drowned out any trace of apprehension I felt. It was the first time I could talk about my sense with someone. And the first time I could officially use it.

  I went out that initial time with both Marcus and Leon, who drove us at night to the location the creature had last struck. Its activity had all been within a mile radius, so we figured that’s where it would most likely feed again.

  Leon waited in the truck while Marcus, armed with a tranquilizer gun, came with me. He didn’t say it, but I knew he wanted to see me in action. He was probably as curious about me as he was about the creatures we were after.

  Zoning in—tuning in—was strange in front of someone else. Almost like I was taking my clothes off. A weirdly intimate thing to do with another person present. But I didn’t have much choice. And once I blanked out my mind, I forgot all about Marcus. I knew only the sound of the creature, like a beacon, leading me forward.

  Marcus was scared—he told me later. It was dark, and though we had a tranquilizer, there was no way to know it would work for sure. Yet, he said, his excitement overcame everything else. And I knew exactly how he felt.

  When we saw it, ugly and skinny, illuminated only by the moon, it took my breath away. I was already weak from making and keeping the connection, and to see it almost landed me on the ground.

  It was amazing. Otherworldly. Mist sifted through the air around it. Its hair stood on end—I knew it could sense me as well as I could sense it. It was pure white, its fur glistening like it had been sprinkled with glitter. Even its eyes were white, glowing at us across the distance between us. I’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  It lifted its nose in the air and sniffed, turning its head toward me. And its gaze locked on mine. What I needed to do was get it to attack. To come at me rather than run away. If it ran, we wouldn’t be able to keep up. But I’d learned that my ability to connect with the creatures also allowed me to summon them, to draw them in. Curiosity usually got the better of them, and this one was no exception.

  Since that night, my skills have grown. My ability to sense creatures and communicate with them has grown stronger, and no longer sucks the energy from me. Not, at least, until Foster Graham.

  Foster’s eyes bore into mine. They’re so fucking intense. For a second I pretend we have no shared history, nothing between us except the fact that we’re two animals who could take off all our clothes and fuck right here. Right now. Then I could kick him out or make him coffee. My choice. My decision.

  Except right now, I feel like nothing’s my choice anymore. He’s going to reveal something, and it’s going to change my fucking world.

  “Tell me about The Center.” I close my eyes for a moment to steady myself. Then I open them and down my whiskey.

  “Give me your laptop.”

  “What?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  “Fine.” I back up and into my bedroom, keeping an eye on him as long as I can before darting into my room and getting the laptop from my bed. “Here.” I set it on the coffee table in front of him, next to his half-finished whiskey, and sit next to him, typing in the password.

  He does a quick search, clicks on a link, and scoots the laptop closer over to me. “Check this out.”

  It’s a news story from a few years ago about a man, Lance O’Bannon, who died in his sleep when his house burned down during the night. Apparently investigators were never able to track down the cause of the fire, and he was alone in the house when it happened. I read it a second time, trying to figure out why Foster is showing this to me.

  “So?” I finally ask, pushing the laptop back and looking at him.

  He rubs his jaw, then his eyes meet mine. “Do you know who Lance O’Bannon is?”

  “Just fucking tell me.”

  His lip twitches up in an almost-smile at my response. “You got a mouth on you.”

  “And I’ll wipe the grin off yours if you don’t tell me who this guy is right now.” I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Lance O’Bannon used to have your job. At The Center.”

  I frown. “No. The guy who had my job left. I think my boss said he’d moved out of town. This can’t be the same person.”

  “Trust me, Thea. This is the guy.”

  I shake my head. “No way. Why should I believe you? I don’t even know you.”

  “You don’t know Marcus Korr either. When he hired you, what did he tell you about the research he does?”

  “How do you know Marcus?”

  “Just answer the questions.”

  “Fine! He said he and the scientists he works with are interested in the life span and habits and whatnot of cryptids. And interested in keeping them off the streets where they can harm humans. It’s a dual-purpose project. Keep people safe. Study the creatures so they can eventually be released somewhere safe.”

  “And you’ve seen where he keeps them?” Foster’s eyes search mine.

  “Yes! They live in enclosures. Not cages. Marcus is really dedicated to making sure the animals are treated well, as well as possible outside of a completely natural environment.”

  “Then you haven’t seen Floor Zero.” He sits back against the couch after picking up his glass and finishing his drink.

  “What the fuck is Floor Zero?”

  “Floor Zero is Marcus’s real lab. And there? The creatures aren’t treated well at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Foster holds his glass out to me. “Get me another ice pack and I’ll tell you.”

  I glare at him—I hate distractions—then head to the kitchen where I toss a handful of ice cubes into a baggie and bring it back to the living room.

  He’s gone.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “Fucking Foster Graham.”

  My text notification wakes me up early.

  Groaning, I grab my phone and squint as I read. It’s from Marcus. Are you coming in this morning?

  I typically “work from home,” which means going out on assignments and bringing in cryptids to The Center when I catch them. It’s definitely not a put-on-a-suit-and-bring-your-briefcase-to-the-office sort of job. But Marcus likes to get together once a week for a meeting, usually with just the two of us, sometimes with a
few other lab workers or Leon. We discuss rumors of cryptids in the area, new research we’ve heard of, and anything else of interest to our line of work.

  Usually the meetings are no big deal. But today my heart pounds as I get ready to go in to work. After what Foster told me yesterday, my mind is racing. He could be full of shit. After all, I’m supposed to be tracking him. He’s my assignment. If he knows that, he might do or say anything to get me off his trail.

  On the other hand, what if he’s telling the truth? Most of my days are spent away from the company for which I work. There could be all sorts of things going on there and I wouldn’t have a clue.

  I don my usual jeans, black jacket and boots, pulling my jet black, straight hair into a ponytail. I don’t bother with makeup. I usually don’t.

  I gulp down a cup of yesterday’s coffee, room temperature. As I’m leaving, I notice the glasses and bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing Foster’s glass. I run my finger along the rim, thinking about how Foster’s lips drank from it. Touched it.

  Which is obscenely sentimental. I’m not in freaking junior high.

  I down the last sip of whiskey in the glass, then head out the door to go to work.

  4

  “Thea!” Marcus puts his arm around me as I enter The Center’s sparkling clean foyer. “It’s been a few days. How’s everything going?” He turns to look down at me, search my eyes for answers.

  I know he wants to know if I’ve made any progress with Foster Graham. And I know I’m not going to tell him everything.

  “Great!” I force a broad smile on my face.

  “Good. Good. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Come on.” We pass Marjorie, the receptionist, who smiles broadly and waves, then head to the elevators, traveling up to the second floor to the conference room.

  Leon is already there, wearing a T-shirt that has an illustration of a lime and a coconut with an arrow pointing from the former to the latter. Seeing him always makes me smile, and his face lights up as I enter.

  “Hey, Thea!” He scratches his scraggly orange beard and lifts his Styrofoam coffee cup in greeting.

  “Leon. Nice shirt.”

  He nods and smirks, raising his eyebrows.

  “How’s Francine?” I ask.

  “Awesome. She’d love to meet you, you know. Maybe drinks this week?”

  “Maybe.” I’m hesitant because I hate making nice. I despise small talk. But for Leon? I suppose I could make the effort to get together with him and his girlfriend.

  “Let’s get started.” Marcus sits down. He seems particularly anxious to begin today, and I wonder what’s up with him. He slides a copy of the Chicago Tribune across the table to me.

  “A newspaper?” I ask, pulling it closer.

  “Didn’t know they still fucking printed these!” Leon chuckles. “That’s hilarious.”

  “Read it.” Marcus’ stern tone shuts us up like we’re two immature kids who need scolding.

  Leon scoots his chair closer to mine so we can both see the paper. Still No Answers in Case of Missing South Side Women is the headline. I read the whole short article. It’s not even front-page news, not in Chicago, where murders and disappearances happen with great frequency.

  “Police are no closer to figuring out what happened to the two south side women who disappeared last month.” The article goes on to talk about how the two women, most likely prostitutes, seemed to have vanished into thin air, with no trace at all. It’s a strange story, but I’m not sure why Marcus wants me to read it.

  I frown at him. “Why are you showing this to us?”

  He sits back, putting his hands on his head. “I think Foster Graham is responsible.”

  “For what?” I lean forward.

  “The prostitutes. Taking them. Killing them.”

  “Wait. What? Why?” Careful, I remind myself. I can’t let Marcus know I’ve spoken to Foster. Had drinks with him. Thought about fucking him.

  He shakes his head. “I’m not sure why. But probably because that’s how he feeds. There have been more cases of missing people lately. It would make sense, too, that he’d choose people less likely to be reported gone, like these two women.”

  “But wouldn’t he just, you know, feed off them and leave their bodies?” Leon looks back and forth between Marcus and me.

  “He’s too smart for that,” offers Marcus. “And as I’ve explained before, he has the ability to feed off of peoples’ essences. He could disarm someone in that manner, then steal her away to a more private place for feeding. In addition to drinking their blood, we believe creatures like Foster become stronger by taking the life force from others.”

  I remember Marcus telling me earlier that he was trying to figure out if there are more like Foster. Does he now know for sure? Did he always know? But I don’t have time to dwell on that right now.

  “Life force?” asks Leon.

  “Essence. Humanity. Whatever you want to call it.” Marcus shakes his hands around in the air as if he’s frustrated. “We don’t know exactly how it works or what it is. But in the limited research on these creatures, that’s how they operate.”

  I don’t want to believe it, but when I think back, to the way my body felt, like it was losing its energy, its everything, it’s not hard to imagine what would happen if Foster didn’t stop. If he kept going until every bit of me was sucked out. Gone. And I was nothing.

  Marcus looks at me. “So, tell me what you’ve observed. Any progress yet? What’s your plan to bring him in?”

  “Oh. I. Uh . . .” I stammer, then steady myself. “I’ve been following him. Checked out his apartment and where he works. Tattoo shop. He just kind of comes and goes. Nothing out of the ordinary, or at least not from afar. Talks to his coworkers, but hasn’t really hung out with anyone since I’ve been watching him. Keeps to himself a little?”

  Marcus nods, scratching his chin in thought. “This thing with the prostitutes happened before you were following him. Keep on him, Thea. I know twenty-four hours a day is impossible, but try to do night watches. That’s when he’d strike. Leon,” he says, “you keep digging. You’ve done great so far, but see what else you can find out about him. His background. His history. Anything.”

  “Yup.” Leon nods.

  “Good. Any questions?” Marcus is already standing, his body tense, like he’s about to spring up and run the second he can.

  I shake my head.

  “Nope,” says Leon.

  “Great. Call me with anything.” Marcus points at each of us in turn and heads to the door. At the last second, he turns. “Thanks. Both of you. You’re doing great work. And Thea . . . Be careful out there.” His eyes warm as he says it.

  “I will.”

  As soon as Marcus is gone, I turn to Leon. “Get coffee with me.” It’s not a request.

  “Ooh, I like it when you order me around.” Leon chuckles as he stands.

  I roll my eyes. “Let’s go.” I head to the door.

  “Time for some more shitty coffee from the infamous break room,” laughs Leon as he holds up his Styrofoam cup. “Well. The new single-cup machine is actually pretty decent. Though wasteful. I heard that those coffee pods account for—”

  “Not here,” I interrupt. “Somewhere off campus.”

  “Fancy. What’s the occasion?” Leon jams the first-floor button, and we wait for the elevator to come.

  I shrug. Leon turns to me like he’s going to say something, then thinks better of it and stares straight ahead as we enter the elevator.

  “Uh, coffee. Cream and sugar. And a slice of the apple pie. A la mode.” Leon slams his menu shut and grins up at the server, a haggard looking woman in her fifties.

  “And for you, hon?” She turns to me, tapping the end of her pen against her lips.

  “Coffee. Black.”

  “Nothing to eat?” asks the server.

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  “Be back.” She grabs the menus a
nd walks away silently in her sneakers, shoving the order pad into the pocket of her apron.

  “Do you ever eat?” Leon takes a sip of water from the dingy looking plastic cup and gazes at me.

  “No, Leon. I never eat. I suck the essences from people to stay alive.” I roll my eyes.

  “That’s why you’re so skinny.” He raises an eyebrow at me and nods his head.

  “Stupid ass,” I mutter. “Look.” I lean forward across the table so we can talk without being overheard. “What do you think of this, uh, Foster Graham?”

  “What do I think of him? Like, in what way?”

  “I don’t know.” I feel irritated. “In any way. This is an unusual case. Obviously.”

  “Yeah.” Leon scratches his beard. “I mean, everything I’ve uncovered so far makes him look like just a, you know, normal dude.”

  “So, Marcus said a colleague informed him about Foster. Do you know anything about that?”

  Leon shakes his head. “You know Marcus tells you more than he tells me, right? If there was any classified information, you’d have it first.”

  “I don’t know. I feel . . . uncomfortable with this case. And I’ve never felt that way before.” I sit back as the server trudges over with two coffee mugs, which she sets in front of us, then fills with coffee from the pot she’s holding in her other hand.

  When she leaves, Leon grabs five creams from the small bowl on our table and methodically opens each one, pouring it into his cup. He does the same with five sugar packets. When he’s done, he stirs it, then sips. “You mean because he’s kinda human?”

  “How do we know he’s not human? I can’t just bring someone in. Kidnap him.”

  “Right now, Marcus just wants you to stalk him, no?”

  I nod. “I guess. But it feels . . . wrong.”

  Leon laughs. “And this whole time I thought you didn’t have a conscience!”

  “Fuck you. Just because I’m not a touchy-feely bleeding heart doesn’t mean I have no morals.”

  Leon puts his beefy hands up in mock surrender. “I know, I know. Underneath that tough exterior you’re just a sweet little teddy bear, right?” He winks at me, then eagerly watches the server arrive with his pie.