Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  He scrutinizes me for a few moments before speaking again. "Are you hungover?"

  I shake my head with a bitter chuckle. "No. Just exhausted."

  "You don't have anything to say for yourself? The way you acted back there?"

  "I'm really sorry.” It’s all I can say. I genuinely feel that way, although I know that Rob thinks I'm being sarcastic. Who wouldn't think that way after an outburst like that? And I know I’ve been a difficult employee in the past—grumpy, getting orders wrong.

  I know what’s coming next.

  "Listen, Edie," Rob says in an even voice, although I can feel the fury underneath it, "go home. Don’t bother coming back."

  I close my eyes. "Okay." I rise and take off the apron around my waist. "Thanks for having me, Rob," I say, handing it to him. "And, I truly am sorry."

  His face is stoic as he takes the apron from me. I push past him back through the door and make a beeline for the breakroom. I don't want to speak with anyone, and I don't want to see their disapproving faces. I grab my jacket and my purse, duck my head down, and head out to my car. Someone calls my name, but I ignore it. They probably won't even remember who I am in another five months.

  I get to my Lancer and sit inside. I'm not crying, which is good. It also scares me because it might mean I can no longer feel enough emotion to cry. I light up another cigarette and check my phone messages.

  The latest text message makes me groan. It's from Jude.

  dont worry about the coffee shop. u deserve better than that. & we need to talk. tonite.

  What the hell is he doing keeping an eye on me like this? I didn’t think that he even knew where I work. Worked. Ugh, the thought makes me angry again. I thumb in a reply to him.

  I deserve a lot different than this. I’ll text you about meeting later.

  I send it. Then I check the other message. There's a text from Carl asking if I'm up for working out today. While I'm not up for that, I do want to talk to my cousin.

  Rather than text him back, I call him, steeling myself for his cheery demeanor. I can really use that right now.

  Carl answers on the first ring. "Yo, Edie! How you doin' cuz?"

  "Peachy keen. I just lost my job."

  "Oh. I'm sorry. That sucks."

  I feel bad that I dropped that on him abruptly, but I need to talk to someone about this. I press a hand over my eyes and take a deep breath. "I spilled coffee on myself and nearly lost my grip on my powers."

  "What?" Carl asks, his voice taking on a different cadence. "You nearly lost your grip? Edie, you've been thrown into walls by vampires before. How could spilling coffee on yourself do that?"

  "I don't know. My powers… they're growing so fast, I can't get a handle on them."

  There's a pause on Carl's end. "D'you think it is what my Mom said?" His voice is soft, unsure. "About your powers getting out of whack with the vampire virus in your system?"

  Aunt Tessa found some writings from other Harkers who were bitten saying that their powers grew rapidly in a short amount of time and they each died horrible deaths within a year of being bitten. If my powers are progressing at the same rate as theirs did, it might mean that I don't have much time left.

  "Maybe. I hoped it was because I'm The Harker now."

  Carl scoffs. "Edie, you and I both know that Meghan never had trouble like this when she became the Harker."

  "I know. I was just hoping." I lean back against the head rest. Finally, the words spill out of my mouth, the secret I've kept since last night. "I saw Meghan last night too."

  "How?"

  "Her ghost."

  Carl goes silent again, although I can feel the shocked silence on it. "I don't remember you ever saying that you could see ghosts…"

  "She's the first ghost that I've seen."

  "I mean, seeing ghosts is like…super advanced magic."

  "I know."

  "How'd she look?" Although there was twelve years between their ages, Carl always adored his big cousin Meghan. Her death hit him nearly as hard as it did me.

  I smile despite myself. "Like she was an extra on the Haunted Mansion ride. All see through and everything. I think she was trying to tell me something."

  "You should come over," he says. "Talk to Mom about this."

  "There's nothing she can do," I say. Other than hand me a charm or something, but the last time Aunt Tessa gave me a charm, I had an allergic reaction. Aunt Tessa dabbles in certain kinds of white magic and will often send her son out smelling like a potpourri vase. "Besides, I don't want anyone worrying about me.”

  "Just come over," Carl insists. "Please? I haven't seen you in yonks."

  "What's a 'yonk'?"

  "It means forever. You're not getting out of coming here. Come on over. Mom might even fix you dinner."

  "What are you doing now?" I ask, deciding that I'll come over only if he is there as well. "You're at your house?"

  "Still speedrunning." He sounds like he's grinning.

  I sigh, although it’s good-natured. I’m sure he hasn’t stopped playing video games since his message to me last night. "Fine. I'll come over."

  Carl gives an excited whoop. I hang up, still smiling, and put away my phone.

  7

  Jude

  Should I tell her about what Dean told me last night? Now?

  I wipe my gloved hand over my face and look down at her text.

  I deserve a lot different than this. I’ll text you about meeting later

  Yes. She deserves a much different kind of life. She deserves better. Much better than these traitorous feelings I have for her.

  “Easy, Jude,” I tell myself. Easier said than done.

  She’s driving off from the Sacred Grounds Coffee Shop and following her is the only thing that’s keeping me from going in there and beating up the motherfucker that fired her. I couldn’t see what happened inside to make her run out into the alley, but I did see the guy who came out and talked with her. She looked shaken, resigned. I hate seeing that.

  I’m nestled in a beat up white Honda Accord that I stole in the early hours of this morning simply because of its tinted windows. Even still, I’m wearing my trench coat with the hood over my face and gloves. It’s fucking bright today. I don’t remember what happened before I woke up with amnesia, but I suspect that even as a human, I didn’t like the sun much.

  My right knee bounces up and down with anticipation. I really want to share what I have to say, but it’s something that I can’t say in a text message.

  It takes every ounce of my restraint to set my phone down, but I know that I’ve made the right decision. I’ll leave her be. Nothing’s going to happen between now and nightfall. I’ll have to drop the bombshell on her. And everything is going to change.

  In which case, I should get some sleep. Tonight is going to be interesting, I can already feel it.

  “Stay safe,” I say. I turn the car on and drive off.

  8

  Edie

  It's about a ten minute drive from the Sacred Grounds Coffee Shop to Carl and Aunt Tessa's house. Their house is a small Craftsman that is always in the middle of remodeling. Aunt Tessa is one of those handy types who is never done with a project. Her wish list keeps morphing and evolving. She always sees something wrong with any little thing in her house. The last time I was here, she was painting the living room for the fourth time in two years, never satisfied with the color.

  It's been three weeks since I was here last. I’d come over to see what Aunt Tessa had dug up from the volumes and volumes of Harker history. She tearfully told me that with five hundred years of history and sixteen Harkers who were infected like me, none had survived. It was one of those "oh-shit" moments where I really understood just how close my expiration date is.

  I don't want another repeat of that, but it seems inevitable.

  Aunt Tessa's already outside on the porch waiting for me as I pull up in the driveway. Carl must have told her I was coming.

  Her long gray hair is
down in loose curls, and she's wearing a simple black tank top with a flowy, knee-length She grabs me into a tight hug, compressing the air out of my lungs. Even though I'm not that big, she's tiny next to me. Still, her squeeze is impressive.

  "Edie! How're you? How's Amelia and Graeme?”

  I grin widely. "Fine and fine. You?"

  "Well, you know, I've been reading up in Feng Shui and I think I've finally figured out what's wrong with the layout. You've dyed your hair!" she exclaims, changing subjects as if she flipped a switch. She touches a few strands from my ponytail. "The red is striking."

  Since Christmas, I’ve gone through about four different hair colors. Blue, green, purple, and now red. I'd nearly forgotten that it is different now. The red really matches my mood these days.

  "I needed a change," I say.

  Aunt Tessa catches my somberness and nods. "I'm so glad you're here," she says. "You should stay for dinner. I didn't believe it when Carl said that you were coming over."

  "She's here on business, Ma," Carl calls from the doorway.

  Aunt Tessa steps back and I get a good look at Carl. He stands at my height with a crazy shock of bleached blond hair that's never combed. Carl looks to be the poster child of a stoner, except that he isn't, not by a long shot. He may be cheery and airheaded on the surface, but everything goes really deep within him. I doubt that I'll ever get to see every layer of him, but that's what keeps him fun.

  "Hey, Carl," I say. "You ever do laundry?" He's never been seen without some sort of vintage Sublime shirt and he only has so many.

  He looks down and shrugs. "Sometimes. About as often as you see ghosts."

  My aunt turns to me with huge eyes. "What? You see ghosts?"

  I scowl at Carl. "Just one. Meghan appeared to me on a hunt last night."

  Aunt Tessa searches my face, waiting to see if I'll crack a smile and tell her that it's not true. "You never could see ghosts before.”

  "Yeah, and she never could make coffee houses explode before either," Carl adds. "Edie is a bit different now."

  "You blew up a coffee house?" Tessa asks me.

  I shrink back from her hard gaze, because I know what's running through her head. "No, I didn't. I just…nearly…I stopped it." At the cost of my job, but that’s really nothing when you consider the alternative.

  "So your powers have gotten stronger?" she presses.

  "I think so? I don't know, I didn't use them much before I became the Harker."

  "How's your scar?"

  No one has seen the scar since it spread past my elbow, and the thought of others scrutinizing it makes me squirm.

  "Fine.”

  I can tell she doesn't believe me because she purses her lips. "Come inside," she says, her tone matter-of-fact and all business. "We need to have a talk."

  She gestures for Carl to get the door. He obliges and my aunt ushers me inside. He gives me a knowing look as I cross the threshold.

  “This is a new Sublime shirt,” he tells me.

  “Uh huh.”

  You can tell as soon as you step inside her house that Aunt Tessa dabbles in the occult. In the door jamb, you can see salt lining the trim, creating a barrier against evil spirits. Wreaths made of natural materials are above every door, and everywhere you look, you see earthy colors and relics. Everything seems fine for a normal witch's house, except for maybe a few things that are out of place that reveal her roots as part of a family of vampire hunters.

  The living room is cluttered with books on the creatures of the night. Some are on the built-in bookcase on the far left wall. Some are incredibly old and crumbling with age, while others are so new, they're still shrink-wrapped, probably new additions in her research for a cure for me.

  That's not all that's on the shelves though. I've had a look before and had a chuckle when I saw some modern sex manuals on it. Once, I asked her why those were there, and she hastily explained they were gifts from a friend.

  She has a study full of books as well, so she's the best-prepared person I know to sort through any of this stuff. Since she hasn’t found anything, my hopes of finding a cure are slim to none.

  "Sit," Aunt Tessa commands, pointing to the sofa. "You too, Carl. I'll be right back."

  I sit, feeling awkward. My cousin follows suit, used to his mother's blunt manner. Aunt Tessa disappears down the hall.

  "How'd it go last night?" Carl asks. "Did you get anything?"

  "Dislocated my shoulder. And the vamps refused to speak, so I didn't find anything useful about Anthony."

  "Bummer," Carl says, echoing my sentiments. "Was Jude there?"

  I laugh bitterly laugh at the mention of the amnesiac vampire, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at the thought of him. "I never should have told you about him." Carl is the only person I've told about Jude. And Carl treats the idea of him as some sort of taboo subject. Which he very much is.

  He shrugs. "You have a hot vampire on the inside who's willing to help track down another vampire.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you about the tattoos,” I mutter.

  “Tattoos are hot, Edie. And he’s doing this only for you. I’m curious. It's something you don't hear about every day."

  "You just want to get into his pants."

  "Probably. You don't?"

  "He's…" I stumble for words, unsure where to proceed with that thought.

  Luckily, I'm saved by Aunt Tessa, who comes bustling back into the living room with a proud smile. She is carrying an old leather-bound tome about the size of a coffee table book with her. Her finger is squeezed between the pages, marking her spot.

  "How long ago were you bitten, Edie?" she asks.

  "A little over five months."

  "What magical powers have you acquired in that time?"

  "Powers? Well, all of them really. I could do a little bit of pyrokinesis before, but nothing like I do now. I think I can see ghosts…" I mean, there’s always the possibility that I’ve finally gone crazy.

  She gives a satisfied grunt at my non-answers and flips through the pages of the book to where her finger is bookmarking it. I can hear the brittle sheets rustling against one another.

  "This book is the earliest known written record of previous Harkers,” she says. “From Elizabeth Harker in 1550 to Olga Harker in 1889. It tells how they died, their abilities, and their accomplishments."

  "The Harker Verses," I say, remembering the book now. When I was younger, I was never allowed to touch it for fear that I would ruin it. It’s an antique, one of the precious accounts of my family’s history.

  In answer, Aunt Tessa holds up the book, open to a page near the middle. Rendered in black ink is an anatomical drawing of a naked woman's body. Covering almost all of her skin are dark, angry blotches that are colored with a rusty red hue. Her scar. "Catherine Harker drew a diagram of herself two months after infection," she says.

  "That’s after two months?" I ask, suppressing a shudder.

  She watches me intently, and I realize that, unintentionally, I’ve given quite a bit away about the state of my sickness. "I've counted eight Harkers who were infected in this book. All had horrible scars that spread throughout their body. And they all died within three months. They all looked like this." She taps the page.

  “Ma,” Carl says by way of a warning. “You’re not helping.”

  “I want to try something,” she says, ignoring him. “We’re going to try to exploit this new…development. I want to see how strong you’ve gotten.”

  I swallow self-consciously. “Uhm, okay.”

  “Based on these histories,” she gestures to the giant tome in her lap, “the other Harkers that have been bitten in the past have displayed immense power, far more than a typical vampire hunter.”

  “That’s supposed to make her feel better?” Carl asks, echoing my sentiment.

  “It’s supposed to give her a timeline,” Aunt Tessa insists. “And if she can do what I think she can, she might be faring better than her predecessors.”
<
br />   “But still dying,” I add.

  My aunt doesn’t address my comment. Probably for the best, because that’s a spiral of self-doubt I don’t want to go down at the moment.

  Instead, she says, “We’re going to try some magic.”

  Carl frowns. “Ma…”

  Whenever his mother “tries” some magic, something usually goes horribly awry. She’s like a mad scientist in that she’ll dabble in stuff that she shouldn’t, but only because she’s curious.

  “She’ll be fine,” Tessa says. She looks at me, imploring me with her eyes. “Don’t you want to try to see Meghan again?”

  She hit me in the gut there. For the chance to say that I’m sorry for everything, I’d do anything to see my sister again. Absolutely.

  “Yes.”

  She pats my knee and stands. “Follow me then.”

  9

  Edie

  Another aspect of the Sedgewick household that is so quintessentially “Aunt Tessa” is her sacred space where her altar is set up. It’s a small room towards the back of the house that she keeps under lock and key and spiritually cleansed. She keeps the windows covered by linen curtains. In the center of the room is her circle surrounded by candles, and in the center of that is her altar, a small table with items of magical power.

  It feels immensely old and powerful, and at the same time, so uniquely Aunt Tessa.

  My aunt kneels on the pillow at the base of the altar.

  “Edie, come sit in my circle right here. Carl,” she says, “can you get the lights?”

  The lights flick off, throwing us into darkness. Aunt Tessa strikes a match to light up the candles around us and on the altar. I wonder for a moment if I should offer to do it with my pyrokinesis, and quickly strike that thought from my mind. If we’re really testing my powers, I should probably conserve my energy, despite how insignificant it may seem.

  "Let’s have a look at your scar," Tessa says. She waggles her finger at me. "Take off the hoodie."