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

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  “Hey, honey,” she said.

  “Why have you been lying to me?”

  “Lying? What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. Garrett’s phone is out of service. I doubt it was turned off since I was with you in the car.”

  Sara didn’t answer.

  “Sara.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry. It’s been out of service for a week.”

  “What the hell do you mean you didn’t want me to worry?”

  “You don’t get to just worry about me, August. I can worry about you, too!” she yelled.

  August looked down.

  “Sorry.” August sighed. He didn’t need anybody to worry about him.

  “I’m almost to his place. I hope he didn’t hit a rough patch.”

  “Me either, I want to see him before I go.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you loved him more than me.”

  “Only some days.”

  Sara’s voice laughed over the phone.

  “I’ll call you when I get there, I promise.”

  “Okay, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” August hung up.

  He lay on his bed. This wasn’t looking good. His gut was telling him something was wrong.

  August closed his eyes and remembered back.

  A teenage August and Garrett walked down a set of stairs into Garrett’s basement. Whenever August came over, Garrett’s parents never let them into the basement. But his parents were away today, so they had free reign.

  The basement had a couch and TV. There was nothing unusual about it except for a blackboard covered in charts in the corner. August approached it.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  On the board was a hierarchy, with hundreds of pictures of gods.

  “It’s a board my parents made. They researched and found the structure of the gods,” Garrett said.

  It was a family tree of sorts, starting from the highest-ranking god. He, the creator of everything, started at the top. Nothing was above him, but everything was below. There was no picture of He as no mortal man had ever seen him. August heard stories of men who saw He in person. They always went mad. Clawing out their eyes as they’d never seen anything more in awe.

  The chart went down to Queen, right under He and one of the first gods. She was a stunning brunette. Then it went down to the great gods: the god of fortune, the god of water, there were twelve of them. Each of them watched over different sections of the world and Ifor.

  August noticed one of them looked really young, like he was in his teens. Svante, the god of war.

  From the great gods, it branched out to hundreds of different gods.

  “Wow, there are so many of them,” August muttered.

  “I think everyone should know the hierarchy. It should be something that’s taught in school, but it’s not.”

  “How do your parents know all this? Why do they have something like this?”

  “If I tell you, you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul. Not a single god-damn soul, August.”

  “Promise.”

  Garrett hesitated.

  “Come on, I promise!”

  “They are rebels against Ifor.”

  August stared Garrett in the eyes. He wasn’t lying.

  “What!?”

  “My parents hate Ifor and everything they’re based on. And I hate them, too.”

  “Why?”

  Garrett grabbed August and pulled him toward a small table with a blanket over it in the corner. He pulled the cover off and revealed an old CRT monitor. He turned it on with a click and searched through the files. A video popped up.

  “The gods created us, but they still treat us like the monkeys we’re made from,” Garrett said.

  The video showed a protest against the gods. It started off peacefully but when the police tried to shut them down, the people started to riot.

  “They violently put us down to keep us in check. They limit our technology, our advances. Limit our knowledge and prevent the media from showing us what they really do.”

  The riots were getting violent, with rioters rushing into the police. The screen flashed as a light struck into the crowd from the sky and the feed went black. August continued to stare at the screen. He was in disbelief. This was the first time he'd seen anything like that.

  The screen went back to the desktop. August clicked on another folder. “There’s hundreds of videos here.”

  “You think that was the only riot? There have been wars, August.” Garrett said.

  August went through the folders and files and paused on one that said “Ifor training and requirements”. He clicked on it but a password box showed up.

  “What’s this?” August asked.

  “It’s training for high-ranking human members of Ifor. I despise anybody who works for them, the things they have to do …”

  August looked back at Garrett. “So, do you hate my dad, then?”

  Garrett looked away. “Yes.”

  “Put in the password.”

  “No.”

  “Do it.”

  “No.”

  August gave up and sighed and looked at another video; this time the police mowed down protestors with live rounds. Bodies exploded as the bullets ripped through them.

  “Don’t worry, Garrett. I hate my dad, too.”

  August closed the video, the violence was too much.

  August said, “What did my dad have to do? What does my dad do?”

  “I won’t tell you what he had to do to get to a position like his. I don’t want you to have anything more to hate about him. He’s still your father,” Garrett said as he walked over to the couch. He turned on a game system and the TV.

  “Come on, let’s play.”

  August ignored him and continued to stare at the screen. August could play later. He clicked the next video.

  A bang on the window knocked August out of his stupor. Kevan stood outside. Motioning him to come out. August rubbed his hands through his hair. Might as well get on with it so he would stop bothering him.

  August walked into the hallway. His father was coming from the opposite direction.

  “August,” Patrick said.

  August stopped.

  “Fuck you,” August muttered.

  “Dammit, August, I did NOT raise you to act this way!”

  “You barely raised me, at all.”

  Patrick stepped up to him. “I won’t let you talk to me that way.”

  “Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

  Patrick shoved August back. August was stunned, but his expression turned into a slight smile. “Just like your old self. I guess that ‘godliness is holiness’ crap was bullshit.”

  August balled his fist. He pulled back to swing and—

  Kevan grabbed his arm.

  “August, stop!”

  Patrick looked at Kevan, the anger leaving his eyes.

  “I’m-I’m sorry,” he said.

  He turned and walked off. August tugged his arm free of Kevan.

  “Why in the hell are you always starting shit?” Kevan was angry. He had the same angry eyes of their father.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Understand what? Huh? That dad is trying to talk to you, trying to be a better man and you’re throwing it in his face? He’s a good man.”

  “You don’t know what the gods have done to him.”

  “I don’t give a damn about any of this god bullcrap. You’re using that as an excuse. I just know that he’s my father and he raised me, and that he’s your father, too.”

  Kevan thrust a finger into August’s chest and said, “Dad’s not the only one getting tired of your shit, August.”

  Kevan walked off. August watched him walk away.

  “Shit.”

  It was a few hours later, August lay on his bed. Thinking. Maybe he should apologize to Kevan. He was never going to apologize to his father. He didn’
t have it in him, but maybe he wouldn’t curse him out in the middle of the hallway anymore.

  That would be a first step.

  His mother yelled, “Dinner is ready!” from the kitchen.

  He sat up and rubbed his wrist. As always, it was him versus the world. His phone rang. It was Sara.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Au-August?” Her voice was trembling. August stood to his feet.

  “What?”

  “This isn’t happening.”

  “Sara, what?!”

  * * *

  Sara was trembling to the point of tears. In front of her was the monument. There was her brother’s body, naked, hung from the pillar, decorated with flowers. The maggots had eaten out his eyes but the rest of his body was pristine despite the bugs that gnawed into him, having an everlasting feast. The smell stung her nose.

  Under the pillar was a stone that stated his crime.

  “Garrett Isador, Betrayer of He, violator of the commandments, enemy of the human race, is to be displayed to show the mercy and the wrath of the gods. Forever preserved by the power of Queen. He is in his heaven, all is well in the world.”

  * * *

  August double-checked his phone’s screen when she didn’t reply. She was still on. He heard her cries over the phone.

  “Garrett … Garrett is dead.”

  August stumbled onto his bed.

  “What?” he asked in disbelief.

  “It’s the gods, they killed him.”

  August didn’t answer. Thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

  “I need you. Please. I need you. August, where are you?” Sara pleaded.

  The phone fell from his hand.

  “August…”

  He grabbed a pillow and yelled into it.

  “August, please answer me!”

  He got up and picked up his phone.

  “I’m going to get answers.”

  His father worked for Ifor, he worked for the gods.

  He had a part in this.

  It was only a few minutes later, August was packing only a single bag. A bag of everything he needed. He placed a Glock in it. His father’s.

  “He won’t be needing this.”

  The only thing this town had was bad memories. He’d meet up with Sara near the train-yard soon. They had to escape, they had to leave this town and never come back. They needed to leave this place forever.

  “August!” his mother yelled for him. He glanced at the door. He could leave and never come back.

  Or he could get answers. Sara would never forgive him if she knew he had a chance to get answers.

  August walked into the dining room. The table was set for a nice meal, with roasted chicken, potatoes, gravy and greens. His delusional happy family dinner-time. His family sat around it, waiting for him. His mother looked up at him.

  “About time, we already had prayer without you.” Why’d she say that? She knew he didn’t pray any more. Why pray when He was the one creating all their problems?

  She figured if he didn’t pray for himself then she’d pray for him. He loved her for that. After tonight though, she’d have to pray for a lot of things.

  He sat and they started to eat.

  Half-way through the meal, August stared into his plate, thinking of what to say. Wondering how to call out his father for what he thought he’d done. He knew Patrick had played a part in Garrett’s death. He always had a part in everything.

  “Well, you never visit anymore, Kevan,” Barbara said.

  “I work long hours for crap pay. Besides, why jump on me? What about August?” Kevan threw the blame.

  Barbara said, “He has an excuse, yours isn’t good enough.”

  “All Kevan does is hang out with his friends at the bar,” Patrick said.

  “The Skullet right? What a disgusting place.” Barbara grimaced.

  “It’s not that bad, mom.”

  Patrick said, “Hey now, I used to be a regular there when I was younger and dumber remember? In fact, Barbara and I had some fun times there.”

  Barbara smiled. “Oh yes, now I remember. We used to stay there all night and dance to some Marv, and then—”

  “Okay! Guys! I’m changing the subject. Dad!” Kevan sighed. “You said you had a big announcement?”

  “Oh! Yes I do.”

  August was still lost in his own thoughts. The bastard who sat across from him had killed his best friend.

  Patrick wiped his face with a napkin. “I was recently promoted to head votary of the Sotira headquarters.”

  Barbara cheered and clapped.

  Patrick continued, “We can finally move up in this world.”

  “Head what?” Kevan asked.

  August spoke, “Head votary, the top sheep for the gods. The sheep that rats out to the wolves where the human watering holes are.”

  Patrick’s face reddened. “Why the hell don’t you just shut your mouth!? We were having a nice discussion for once and you just had to butt in!”

  Barbara said, “Patrick!”

  “Tell them what you had to do to become head, Dad.”

  Patrick clutched his table cloth. “I do what I have to do to provide for this family and if you keep up—”

  “Keep up what!?” August yelled.

  Patrick stood to his feet.

  Barbara shouted, “August, Patrick, stop!”

  Patrick was about to blow, “I-ll—”

  “Garrett’s dead!” August yelled.

  Patrick stopped, he looked down. He was caught. August knew by the look in his father’s eyes that he did have something to do with his death. He killed the only friend he had.

  Patrick sat down.

  “Garrett is dead and I know who killed him.”

  Kevan was trying to take in the situation. “What! He’s dead?”

  “Strung up in the middle of this fucking town like some goddamn monkey.”

  Kevan looked to his father, “How in the hell did I not know about that?”

  Patrick said, “You never go over there.” He adjusted his position in his seat and placed his hands on the table. Acting like he was open and friendly, when he’d killed a man. He was going to talk in a calming, understanding tone. But August knew the act was a lie.

  “You have to understand, August. He was very outspoken about the gods. He and his family rebelled against them. He would’ve destroyed this town and the purpose we were made for.”

  August said, “And Sara …“

  “She’s fine. She left before it was too late. No harm will come to her. I promise. But her brother … just … just sometimes a dog has to be put down.”

  “How? How could you?”

  “It was an order from the highest authority of Ifor. It had to be done. I cannot disobey them, August.”

  Patrick could’ve done a lot of things. He could’ve worked a different job, he could’ve called in sick, he could’ve done anything.

  “You are the same monster that you were before.”

  August got up and went for the hallway.

  “August!” Patrick went after him. “August! The only reason I told you is because you cared for him and because I care for you!”

  He tried to grab August’s arm, but August pulled away.

  “Leave me alone!”

  August threw a punch but Patrick countered and struck back. August stumbled back. “I guess you didn’t forget everything.”

  August charged and tackled him into the dining room. Patrick fell against the table as August’s fist wailed into him. Patrick didn’t fight back. He only tried to block his face. August’s fists were not stopping.

  Barbara grabbed and pulled on August but he pushed her off and continued to beat his father senseless. Kevan just stared at all of this. He had no clue what to do. His family was tearing apart at the seams.

  Patrick kneed August in the gut and pushed him off. Patrick got up and ran into the living room, going for the door.

  August caught his leg and Patrick
fell. August turned him onto his back and climbed on top of him.

  He unleashed a volley of punches to his face.

  “You bastard!” August screamed.

  The punches intensified, not stopping once bone and cartilage broke the skin.

  “You never cared for me!” August yelled.

  Blood spattered onto the floors and August.

  “You never cared about anyone!”

  Blood splattered on August’s face.

  “You’re a fucking liar,” his last shout quieted as his adrenaline fell. He pulled one final punch and stopped. His father’s face was caved in. What had he done? August stared at his bloodied hand.

  A moan sputtered from his father’s mouth. He leaned in to listen—

  August was slammed off of Patrick by Kevan. Kevan looked at his father.

  “What in the hell did you do?!”

  August threw Kevan into the dining room and ran for the door.

  “You fucker!” Kevan yelled for him and gave chase.

  August ran out the door and into the woods. Kevan ran after him but stopped when he heard his mother scream and ran back into the house.

  His mother held his father’s head, crying. She tried to wake him. But with all the blood on the carpet, it was obviously useless. He was dead. She screamed to him, “Kevan, call an ambulance!”

  Kevan looked back to the woods. August was gone. There was only one place he could go.

  Red and blue lights twinkled in the window. Kevan sat on his parent’s couch, staring at the blood-stain on the floor. Paramedics zipped up his father’s body bag and wheeled it out of the door.

  There was a glass gun rack in front of him. He was counting the rifles and hand guns, thinking. Five rifles and four handguns. There was supposed to be five of each. One of the pistols was gone. August.

  Kevan had stood there doing nothing while his brother killed their father. He’d done nothing at all. He could’ve stopped him. He could’ve stopped the fight but instead, because he hesitated, his father was gone.

  August needed to atone for his actions. Kevan couldn’t hesitate again.

  Kevan ran through the woods with a rifle on his back. The only thing leading him into the night was a far-off light peeking through the trees. There was only one place August would go, where nobody would be. The abandoned train-yard. A place that was once prospering but had since been shut down by Ifor.