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

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  It was so obvious that Matias was entangled in the whole thing — at the time, it seemed reasonable enough to pin him with the blame and drive furiously into the night. Of course, just because a person is angry, doesn’t mean that they are impervious to the corrective adjustments of karma. In fact, quite the opposite is true. You might say that the moment I decided to abandon Matias, I became a magnet for the same supernatural phenomenon that I was bundling up and throwing in his lap. The demons came then, and I had only gotten a few miles down the road.

  Talk about a short lived tantrum.

  Right in the middle of my psychological tirade, I found myself at the whim of a huge demonic form, swooping downward at the vehicle. The first sense wasn’t an internal feeling, as my internal feelings were all consumed by my hatred for Matias, and the victimization I felt at the hardships that I was subject to over the course of the last couple of days. By the time the first impact had been made on the roof of the rental car, it was already too late.

  No more time for warnings.

  I swerved, and swore violently, cursing my luck, and the endless bullshit that seemed to be sent into my path. The creature slammed its fist into the wind-shield, shattering it into a spiderweb in front of my vision. I lost clarity on the road. Soon afterward, I lost control of the vehicle.

  The car swerved to the left, and a clawed hand punched through the windshield. I watched through a spray of shattered glass as the claw of the beast dug into the roof of the car, seeking not to be thrown off from the vehicle. Life slowed down to a crawl, and I saw each of the fragments of glass reflect the horror of the moment throughout the crash. Then the tires caught traction, and the car began to correct course.

  Too late.

  The rear end of the car slammed into a tree, sending the car into an opposing spiral. The seatbelt cut into my shoulder, and my neck suffered from whiplash. My skin felt like one thousand razors had done a number on the top layer of my skin. My eyes were closed. I survived the spin-out, and when I looked up to see where the claws had broken through the windshield, I noticed that they were no longer there.

  I was delirious with pain, and confusion. I wanted to slow down, and die, but I could not stay there. The knowledge that meeting my end by the beast would be far more painful than a car crash pushed me toward fleeing the site. Into the forest I stumbled, crying and doing my best not to trip on any of the outstretched roots which sought to bring me down to the earth.

  It was the same demon as before; I could feel it now. He had survived from the previous fall to the earth, and now he was after me once more. I knew that he would not give up until he had killed me, or taken me to whatever dark masters he served.

  Lara, I thought, the name ringing so clearly in my mind.

  In that moment, all I wanted to do was apologize to Matias. It really was too bad that I needed another visceral and horrific reminder to give me the perspective necessary. I had to admit that if a bit of fucking could lead to an interaction with a creature like the winged demon, then perhaps Matias had been right about everything else.

  I was certain that I was going to die, and that I would never be able to communicate that to him. I prayed that the canopy might give me some time, but on a deeper level, I knew that I could not fight off the creature alone. I didn’t have the strength or stamina.

  The canopy didn’t offer nearly as much protection as I hoped it might. Time and time again, the creature found holes through the tree line and would swoop down to try and capture me. I kept in the thickest areas of the trees, which made it more difficult to move, but also more difficult to be seized by the creature. The closer it got to me, the lower I dove.

  Blood dripped down on top of me once, as the spears of the forest itself came to my defense. Of course, the aggression of the creature could only be turned back upon itself for so long. The trees were not animate, and the wrath of the demon would soon overcome my fading vitality. Out of breath, and disoriented, I finally found myself snagged by a particularly unforgiving root.

  Down, I fell, into a hole within the earth. I wasn’t in there longer than a few seconds before I found the hold was covered by the wingspan of my hunter. Someone, or something, had captured me. I looked up from the bottom of a twelve foot, narrow crypt, and felt hopeless. There was nothing I could do to save myself, and the demon was perched at the edge of the hole — blocking out what little light came through the canopy.

  I listened, with pain as the demon began chanting something in Latin. The words made a sickening resonance within my body, and I was reminded of the situation back at the clinic. The same feeling of approaching doom rose up within me, and I actually began to hallucinate.

  The walls of the grave I was in began to close in my mind, and I felt a decrease in temperature, just like back at the clinic. My muscles gave out, and I fell to a fetal position at the bottom of the pit — shivering. I looked up at the faint glimmer of hope that was shining through the trees, thinking that this would be the last image I might see before death. Then, I heard an explosion.

  First one, and then another; the explosions echoed through the forest and found my ears through the muffled insulation of the crypt. The incantation paused, and the beast let out a growl. Someone was shooting at him, and protecting me. I thought of Matias, but I was confused, as I had not yet seen him use a gun.

  Next, a flare of fire shot out, covering the pit’s entrance. I felt a flush of heat pass over my face, and watched, breathless, as the demon flew away from its position; shrieking. The flames passed, and the cold that had found its way into my bones began to thaw. The temperature of the grave returned to normal, and when I looked up, I saw that someone else was there.

  My savior.

  I had expected to see Matias, but instead, curious as it may seem, I found Friar Sean staring down to meet me.

  38

  Roma

  I could only sit stunned in the bottom of a twelve foot crypt while the man who appeared to be Friar Sean threw a rope down to pull me up. There is an inborn lack of clarity when you remember vividly someone getting skewered by a twelve foot pole, and then you see them come to your assistance. With all of the insanity that I had been subjected to, it seemed unreasonable, but not impossible that Friar Sean should still be alive; that being said, I was confused as hell.

  Hand after hand, I climbed up to the surface, only to be greeted by an answer unrelated to my current line of inquiry.

  “That trap wasn’t meant for you,” the Friar offered, waiving his hand downward toward the crypt. “It was for the creatures that would have undoubtedly come chasing after you.”

  He then paused, and frowned deeply.

  “It appears as though my precautions were not accurate enough, though by the grace of God, we made it through the first attack.”

  “How did you survive?” I asked, looking him up and down.

  The Friar was in street clothes, and his smile looked strangely beguiling. I could tell he was still thinking about the plans that he had for whatever traps he had in place for the demons. When my question dawned on him, his smile faded.

  “Survive?” he asked, his attentions returning to the present moment. “You met my brother. Of course. We’re twins and, judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing he’s dead now. I’m Eli.”

  The facts as they came out of his mouth seemed so unfeeling. I would only realize later that the two of these brothers were long involved in a war which they felt to be larger than their own lives. The fact that one of them died and left the other to continue the fight was no more surprising than if a comrade in arms had passed during a battle.

  The loss of the other brother was real, but the respect for the reason why the two brothers had devoted their lives to their cause took precedence. I made an effort to console him, but that effort turned out to be unnecessary.

  “Friar Sean died a hero,” I offered, not knowing what to say, but feeling as though my silence would not be sufficient.

  The man’s expressi
on grew fierce and defiant. I looked closer and found myself admiring the man. In spite of the fact that there was an extreme loss in his life, the defiance did not house any of the embittered cynicism that I might have expected from a lesser man. The victimization of loss would not touch this man, because he had a higher purpose toward which to devote his life. This man would not blame God for his losses — instead, he would fight on behalf of his beliefs in order to correct the wrongs which had been done toward his brother.

  I was looking at a metaphysical solider.

  “And what does that get him,” he offered, finally vocalizing the expression worn so plainly on his face. “With the gates of heaven shut tight. He’s probably stuck down here, going through who knows what.”

  He shook his head firmly, from side to side.

  “We have to fix this,” he said with resolve.

  “And how do we do that?” I asked.

  “Funny you should ask,” he replied, that same wry grin returning to his face. “We use you.”

  With that, he started walking away from the grave. He traveled in the opposite direction of the car crash, and evidently assumed that I would be content to follow. I was more than a little bitter at the realization that these men who kept wandering into my life happened to save me, and expect me to follow them. In spite of my exasperation, I continued to be indebted and intrigued by these men.

  The Friar took my hesitance for confusion — which wasn’t far from the mark.

  “I’ll explain everything,” he offered. “I just have to see the angel first.”

  “He’s gone,” I answered, the memory of our last conflict leaving a poor taste in my mouth.

  Eli looked at me and grinned once more from over his shoulder.

  “There is no way that’s possible,” he offered, rolling his eyes as he spoke.

  “I sent him away,” I affirmed.

  All I received in response was a laugh.

  “You sent an angel away?” he scoffed. “Good luck with that. They’re harder to get rid of than cancer.”

  Just then, the two of us tensed as the sound of a huge creature came tearing through the woods. We turned around quickly to engage the threat, but I saw the form quickly enough to understand that we were not in any threat. Broadway itself couldn’t have provided a more on cue moment for Matias’s arrival.

  “Sean?” he asked, gasping for air.

  “His brother,” I replied, doing my best to put up a cold front for my own benefit.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, either oblivious, or in conscious disregard for my bristled emotions.

  I turned away from him, and let my hand rest on my hip.

  “Come on,” Eli said, turning away from the two of us to continue onward. “I’ve got a lot to explain about how we’re going to save the world.”

  39

  Roma

  After a time, we ended up back at Eli’s house. From the practicality I gleaned from Sean, I believe that his brother would have been proud. I even thought it was possible that the two of them had collaborated on the project of the house. As it turned out, Eli had a greater degree of combat related enthusiasm.

  The house was a veritable arsenal of weaponry, holy water, and crucifixes. In addition to the wide array of guns, swords, grenades, and modified weaponry I couldn’t even begin to explain — there were also a fair sampling of intelligence gathering tools. If Friar Sean had an intuitive and compassionate capacity for his work, his brother took those same proclivities into a very material and martial direction.

  “Fr. Sean had a gift,” Eli explained. “He got dreams, visions that told him things he had no business knowing. I grew up with him, and as a result, I know why he got sent into the priesthood. You know the truth of God, and the angels, and your life can’t ever be the same again.”

  While he talked he fidgeted around with a sword that contained a sophisticated release method for dispersing holy water down a central channel of the blade.

  “A year ago,” he continued, “He came to me, talking of the end of the world. He said, the gates of heaven are going to be closing and there will only be two people that could be in a position to stop it.”

  He paused, and set the weapon down on the floor. I did my best to collect my attention and refocus on the conversation at hand. I knew that what Eli was saying was important, but all I could focus on was my intense and unreasonable hatred for Matias.

  “Those two people are you,” he concluded.

  What a way to zero in on a crucial point in the conversation.

  “How?” I asked, more than a bit miffed that not only did I have to continue to spend time with someone who had outright rejected me, but that there was some element of prophetic validation about the entire thing.

  Eli waved off my inquiry, and then rolled his eyes.

  “First off?” Eli said. “You two have got to kiss and make up, at least figuratively. I can’t have my saviors at each other’s throats. Take care of that, and we’ll clear everything else up in its wake.”

  Without another word, he closed the bedroom door and locked the two of us inside of the room. Before walking down the hall toward his own quarters, I heard his voice come through the door.

  “See you in the morning!”

  The sounds were muffled. Now, I had enough cause to hate both the Friar’s brother, as well as Matias. The whole arrangement was nothing more than a botched social experiment or a joke where I was the punch line.

  The sword was still there, leaning up against the side wall. I thought about whether or not the door was thick enough to withstand a few blows from the sword. Then, I realized that attacking Eli’s fortress from within, using his own tools would have been rude in the least. Perhaps, not quite as rude as locking me in the room with Matias, but not exactly the ideal response for someone who had saved my life.

  “You’re angry,” he began, stating the obvious.

  I could tell that he wanted nothing more than two functionally sweep all of this under the rug, so that the three of us could move forward toward whatever glorious fated future awaited our path. I, for one, could not have been less excited.

  “You seem to forget what took place between the two of us,” I offered, caustically looking to break the ice.

  “I would say the same for you,” he returned.

  It was clear to me at that point that he was not going to back down from the fight. The meaning of course, was clear. Matias was invested, and he knew that he would have to take a certain level of bullshit from me in order to get along with what he knew needed to happen. Whatever prophecy he and I were due to fulfill took precedence over whatever grievances that I might have had toward him.

  I was prepared to lay into him with a righteous level of indignation, and I thought about letting him dangle over the fire of my anger for a while before letting him off the hook. Some part of me wanted to see him suffer.

  Still, another part of me knew that there was an unspoken element to our conversation.

  Sure, we ended up fighting for a bit. I don’t really recall all of the details of the conversation. I was mad, and so undoubtedly, I lashed out at him, hoping to strike at his pride, and righteousness. To his credit, he didn’t buckle in response. He stood firm, and let me flail about for a while, and make a general brat of myself. Once I had gotten the better part of it out of my system, I let on that I saw some internal inconsistencies in the prophecy, if indeed there was one.

  “If we are supposed to be bad for one another, and this Lara woman was punished for loving as we have loved, then why is it that the prophecy still calls for us to work together?”

  I had to ask the question — it was one of my more lucid points throughout the evening.

  “You’re right, of course,” Matias replied. “I didn’t know how to explain it to you though, as I’m not quite certain myself.”

  We fell together into a moment of silence, and calm. The fury of the exchange had passed and the two of us were now closer to exhaustion than anyt
hing else. Then, I heard him say something I’ll never forget.

  “God is love,” he said, “So I can’t help but think that he would want us to love as well?”

  Matias broke down, and our lips touched once again.

  40

  Roma

  With a swaggering air of confidence, Matias removed his shoes, and laid down on the couch. He leaned back and I spread my legs for him, so that his head felt backward into my lap. It would be easy enough for us to fall back in together. I stroked his hair, and felt the warmth between my legs grow in anticipation of his body.

  “You’re ready to go,” he said, “aren’t you…”

  He could feel my hips grinding toward him. I swear the movement was sub-conscious, but he wasn’t wrong. I wanted him desperately. The separation that he and I had suffered was too much for me to bear. I knew I had to have him. The words of the Friar’s brother had been enough to pique my interest. Of course, the interest was there, but I had pushed it beneath my anger and pride.

  No more.

  Tonight, I would give myself to Matias once more. Our relationship would be solidified through love.

  The way he smelled and the way my fingers felt, combing through his hair was a turn on. I spread my legs wider for him, and licked my lips just thinking about how he and I had fucked before. I loved the feeling of warmth that I felt when he was around me. I leaned forward and kissed him, and he replied in turn by turning around and grinding up against me.

  His hands lifted my legs, and turned my chin to the side so he could gain control of my neck. He was a beast already, and his hunger for me turned me on even more. I wanted to be ravished by him. I ripped his shirt up over his head, and then got to work on his belt. All the while, he focused his attention on kissing my lips, and making me feel loved.

  Next, he directed his attention to my breasts. My shirt was off, and my bra was undone in not time at all. Matias held onto both breasts with each hand and kissed my nipples. I felt the pressure of his grip push against me, and let my head roll back in glory. I pushed his head into my breast, feeding him my body. He couldn’t take it any more. He lowered my pants to the ground, and I finished the job for him. Then, I mounted his face and rode his tongue, spreading my legs wide for his access.