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

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  “Don’t talk down to me…” I warned him, narrowing my eyes into a glare.

  “Let me remind you of a few critical factors,” he offered. “In case you forgot. You are currently being chased by creatures who appear to be people. When they are ready to attack you, they speak liturgical hymns to Satan, and cause marks to be inscribed on your chest. In addition to this encounter, you have just met a dog who can speak your name, and bend metal with the snap of its jaws. As though both of those experiences were not enough, you are currently speaking with a man whose heart has been verified by a team of doctors to be silent.”

  He stared at me disapprovingly, and a silence filled the space between our two bodies. I turned my eyes to the side, trying to avoid his gaze, and center my thoughts.

  “How much more proof do you need?” he asked.

  He wasn’t irritated, though there was a slight bit of disbelief in his voice. As though he had run into this level of faithlessness before.

  “Back at the house, after you killed that dog, I put my head on your chest. Your heartbeat was there…” I replied. “I heard it myself.”

  “When messengers are sent to Earth, it isn’t unheard of for God to provide us working bodies. I’ve never seen a messenger’s life stop and then continue before. Though, it doesn’t really matter much. Suffice to say, my life force isn’t tied to this vessel.”

  “A pity,” I said under my breath. “It’s a hell of a vessel.”

  “I’m glad you think so. It certainly has served you well enough thus far. Though, I’d prefer to deal with someone who had a bit more faith in the efficacy of the divine…”

  “Are you saying I don’t believe?”

  “I’d say with the amount of direct experience you have been offered, Belief is not really important, so much as adaptation,” he replied. “Speaking of adaptation, we have to keep moving if you want to survive. That mark on your chest means you’ve been targeted. It lets those who are after you know where you are at all times.”

  “For how long?”

  He didn’t reply at first, only looked down the length of the railroad tracks on either side. Doubtless to make sure the demons didn’t track us down that very moment.

  “They can’t rest,” he replied. “Those who want you dead are still among the living. They will come for you until they have been given to God. A dark force compels them.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, not being able to help myself. “Who would want me dead?”

  “A question I intend to answer,” Matias said, presently. “But first, we need to get out of here.”

  Finally, my questions having been sated to a sufficient degree, I decided to help problem solve.

  “My car is still at my apartment,” I offered.

  “You can’t go back there,” he replied, simply. “Since the Hellhound passed there, that will undoubtedly be a vector of entry.”

  The idea of our apartment becoming a portal where the worst kind of fiends would transport themselves into our world was terrifying. The fact that we had left without finding a safe place for Dale made me feel poorly. Then, I realized that if Matias didn’t take care of whatever mission had brought him here — not only would the demons find their mark with me, but they would go after others as well. The realization of a purpose larger than myself spurred my creative abilities.

  “Okay. Well, I know someone else with a car.”

  “Good,” Matias says and, looking down at his gown says, “And see if they can spare a pair of pants.”

  I laughed, and smiled.

  “I’m not sure if that’s going to be possible,” I bit my lip. “I might miss out on all of the good views of your ‘vessel’.

  21

  Roma

  So, my friend Claire pulled up only ten minutes after I gave her a call. Matias and I hung out at an outside burger joint for a couple of minutes. It was one of those older places from the ’50’s. You know the kind with the cheeky cartoon character mascot, and the outdoor tables that have only really been serviced with a rag and some dish soap for the last thirty years.

  That kind of place.

  Claire pulled up while we were sitting across from one another at the table. Well, to be honest, I was sitting, and Matias was standing vigilantly in his hospital gown — looking like a caped crusader that had just escaped a psych ward. I realized while I stared at him, that the assessment wasn’t too far off. The only element which didn’t add up was that he seemed have a total sense of clarity about himself and his actions. Someone who had suffered through the psych ward most definitely would not have the same faculties.

  “Damn Roma…” were Claire’s first words, though she wasn’t looking at me when she said them.

  Claire was that brashly outspoken friend that everyone seems to have, and yet still seemed so rare to come by.

  “Why don’t you and Captain Marvelous come on over here for a moment,” she offered.

  The parking lot with the fifties diner was split with one of those outdated, drive through milk vendors. The milk, of course, was a subset of their total inventory. They made most of their business selling liquor and cigarettes, but the “MILK” sign lent them a lasting form of credibility. We followed Claire’s car to the back of the lot. When we got there, she brought out a pair of an ex-lover’s pants and threw them at Matias.

  She gave him a wink and a grin. I’m couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to me like he actually blushed before changing. Then it was Claire’s turn to blush. If Matias’s embarrassment had been slight and suggested, Claire’s was flagrant.

  I smiled to myself.

  Claire was not someone who was easily embarrassed. I suppose ridiculously attractive men stripping down in a public parking lot was a bit of a surprise for her. Matias had privacy — don’t get me wrong. The back alley was closed off in either direction and lead to businesses and warehouses that didn’t have public flows of traffic. The only living things that experienced Matias’s glorious ass were a wall of thick ivy, and Claire sneaking a peek through her rear-view mirror.

  I could tell she was practically salivating to mate, so I said the first thing that came to my mind in order to dissuade her interest.

  “He thinks he’s an angel,” I said, as though the information was a condemnation, in and of itself.

  “Nobody’s perfect,” she shrugged. “With an ass like that, he can think he’s Augustus Caesar for all I care.”

  I watched as she licked her lips, still staring into the rear-view mirror. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. If I had been behaving responsibly, I should have told her to stop, or at the least warned him of her predatory gaze. Hell, if I had been real with myself, I would have been trying to catch a glimpse myself. Unfortunately, the moment passed, and the rear door opened.

  A fully dressed, and significantly more hip looking Matias got into the back of the car.

  “Absolutely not!” he interjected, without waiting for a prompt from either Claire or myself.

  Obviously, his hearing was excellent.

  “Augustus Caesar was a brute of a man. I would never equate myself with him, regardless of the shapeliness of my backside.”

  This brought a smile to both our faces. It was so nice to hear a man admit to having a ‘shapely backside’.

  “Fair enough,” Claire grinned.

  For a moment, it seemed as though Matias had gone far away within his own mind. I could tell that he was connecting with something, or at least he was trying to do so. When his face cleared from the efforts of his meditation, he offered Claire a warning.

  “You’re in danger by being with us,” he said, gravely. "If you will, I suggest you let Roma borrow your vehicle until a later date. You might not receive the car back in pristine condition, but I can assure you that you will be significantly more safe, while not in our company.”

  I looked over at her to see how she was taking the suggestion. Claire caught my eyes, and read something in them — some understanding about the realities of a si
tuation that she couldn’t quite grasp herself. At first, I saw her lips curl up into that characteristic smile of hers. Then they stopped, as she realized that this was not a joke. I did not come in to alleviate Matias’s claim with the necessary delivered punch line. There was no hidden levity in my eyes — only pain, and the realization that while she might not understand what was happening, something was indeed happening — and it wasn’t going to be good.

  “Wouldn’t hear of it,” she said, firmly, revving the engine to punctuate her statement. “We’ll go load up on gas, and then you can tell me where you need to go. I’ll get you there, I promise.”

  “Very well,” Matias returned, after a moment’s consideration.

  “Psh…” Claire replied. “Like you had a choice, Sir Derrière. I’m Ride or Die. Besides, I’m not about to let her friend disappear with some beautiful stranger. Not without me at least.”

  We pulled out of the diner parking lot, and stopped at a gas station a few minutes later. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Claire went in to pay and Matias circled the perimeter like anxious German shepherd. Trying to hold everything together, I began to pump gas into the car.

  The scent of fumes mixed uncomfortably in my nostrils, and a weird thin man in a greasy shirt came up next to me.

  “You know if they have scratchers in here?” he asked.

  As he spoke, I saw him clawing at his clothes, and straining the side of his neck to the side. He looked uncomfortable, and just being around him heightened my anxiety.

  “Not sure, but you can go check,” I offered, eager to get space between myself and the stranger.

  “Scratchers are there, but Luck isn’t….” The man continued, those weird facial contortions extending into his sentence structures.

  “Roma, Down!” The sound came from Matias.

  “…Not for you!” the voice from the man continued to deepen, while his body was consumed by whatever demonic force flowed within him.

  22

  Roma

  I ducked, and on instinct pulled the pump out of the car and sprayed it toward the creature in transformation. A huge claw swung freely over my head and sunk into the metal canister of the gas pump. Sparks flew, and flames ignited, spraying outward into the air, covering the demon.

  Already, I was getting the hang of this action hero bit.

  Of course, the creature sprouted massive black wings, and his face elongated weirdly into a twisted visage of horns and fangs. The whole deal. Really inspiring, if you weren’t staring at it through a veil of petroleum fumes and flames. Unfortunately, I think the skin of the thing was resistant to flames, otherwise, it might have died then and there.

  Instead, I watched as its skin began to wither over its elongated skull. Anger exploded outward from the creature toward me, and with another single swipe, the line was cut clean from the gas pump. Fuel spewed outward onto the ground, but by that point, the emergency cut-off had been triggered to prevent further loss, and fire damage. As the flames spread outward, igniting the gasoline that had spilled out onto the ground, the demon grabbed me with its free claws, and brought me in toward its chest.

  I could feel the claws of the demon dig into the flesh around my shoulders. In addition to the pain of the claws, I also felt the crushing weight of the demon’s muscles press against my rib cage. I knew from the strain I felt in that moment that he could have pried my sternum in two at that moment, but something stopped him. The demon’s shoulder lurched backward as it was cleanly skewered with an advertisement lawn stake. The brutal stake was two inches across at the base, and cut into a point to penetrate the earth. The stake itself had to have been the size of a rebar in diameter.

  The demon wailed in agony and I felt the grip loosen around my body involuntarily. Just then, the demon squatted down and spread its wings in order to take off into the sky. My stomach sank into my body, and I watched dizzily as the ground shrank away from my vision. We had almost cleared the gas station, but Matias leaped up onto the car, and then grabbed a hold of the demon’s leg as it flew up into the air.

  With composure, Matias stabbed some small object repeatedly into the demon’s overgrown thigh. The stabbings grew higher still, as Matias worked his way up the leg. I watched the object pierce the arterial vein in the crotch of the demon’s leg, and felt the talons sink further into my shoulders. Rage swelled in the demon’s mind, and pain distracted it from it’s mission long enough not to drop me to the ground then and there.

  “Hold On!” Matias screamed over the screeches of pain that the demon.

  I grit my teeth and clung onto the demon’s arms, while he attempted to shake me free from his grasp. The pain of the talons was incredible, but I stuck with it, and made the demon focus his entire energy on flinging me away from his body. While his attention was divided, Matias climbed still further up the body, and planted the stabbing element firmly upward into the underside of the demon’s neck.

  The demon screeched, a terrible, gurgling noise, and before blood covered the length of the pen, I saw a logo of a rising sun and a dove. The same symbols that compose the logo for Claire’s work.

  Matias had slain the demon with nothing more than a ballpoint pen.

  The demon used all of its force to fling me away from its body, and my grip didn’t hold. As I separated away from the beast, I stretched my arms and fingertips outward for Matias. I saw him plant his feet on the creature’s chest, and dive forward like he was pushing off the wall in a cement pool. The demon flew backward, and Matias came forward to meet me in the middle of a vast ocean of blue.

  Except, we were not in a pool, and both of our bodies were plummeting downward to the earth. Matias grabbed me and hugged my body tightly.

  “You’re an angel, right?” I asked, leaning my head in toward his ear. “Tell me you have wings.”

  “Not today,” he answered.

  He held my body tightly, and I felt our forms turn around in midair. As soon as the aerial rotation had completed itself, my body crushed into his. The two of us fell onto a small patch of grass, but that shouldn’t have mattered, given the heights that we fell from. Matias had spared me the brunt force of the landing, saving my life yet again.

  He pushed me off of him, and then choked and gasped air back into his body.

  “That’s going to hurt,” he offered.

  “Hurt!” I exclaimed. “You should be…”

  He just shook his head and smiled, as though asking me when I was ever going to learn that the same rules didn’t apply to him, as to myself. I knew better than to continue to question why he was alive — why both of us were alive, for that matter. My shock remained.

  Claire came running past the gas station attendants who were busy spraying down the station with flame retardant sand. In spite of everything, Claire had managed to pick up two frosted ice drinks; one for each hand.

  “That was incredible!” she cried out, her tongue bright red from syrup.

  I was about to try and dismiss or deflect in whatever way possible, given that I could take no credit whatsoever for still being alive, but I had no time to do so. A car pulled up to our side, and screeched to a stop. A priest with an Irish accent unlocked the doors to the car and yelled at the three of us.

  “Get in before that damned thing comes back!”

  I’m quite sure the gas station attendants would have wanted us to stick around and take a statement for the damages. When you’ve been lifted into the atmosphere by a creature from the void, your priorities tended to shift. All it took for me was one look at Matias to understand what course of action we had to take. He was limping and bleeding over to the car, but in spite of his injuries, he had already opened the rear doors of the car for Claire and I to enter.

  I didn’t ask any more questions. If I had been slow to come, I had at least been complete in my change in perspective. I got into the car, no questions asked. I’m sure Claire came along for the ride — though I suspect she hoped that she might get a bit more than a ride from Mati
as. A flashy orange cup was shoved in my direction, though when I turned, I could see her eyes were glued to the angel in the passenger’s seat.

  I accepted the drink, and leaned back as the Catholic screeched away from the scene of the fight.

  23

  Roma

  “Fr. Sean,” the man said, lending one hand over his back shoulder, while the other remained firmly on the wheel of his ’86 Firebird.

  I was a bit taken back by the whole thing, but Claire was on the ball, and she reached her free hand out to give Fr. Sean some skin. I had never seen an Irish Catholic with a rebellious streak before, but I suppose that delving into the study of demons can do a thing or two to a man.

  “For the last nine months, I’ve been tracking a surge of mystical energy that has rushed through the atmosphere,” he continued.

  His voice rose over the sound of the engine and the open windows.

  “I traced the most recent surge of energy to yourself," he said. "I’ve been tracking you since early this morning. You’re lucky I caught up with you, otherwise, you might have cashed your checks with the Saint.”

  He shook his head and lit up a cigarette.

  “That would have been ugly,” he commented.

  I watched sparks fly backward through the window, and swirl inward once more to the bucket seats in the back of the firebird. One of the sparks seemed like it was going to catch on Claire’s brown curly hair, but she moisturized well enough, and it went out. Another burned my forearm, and I focused on the pain momentarily. I recognized that there were many types of pain in the world, and that this particular variety of pain was that of salvation.