Bound by Legend: A Bound Novel (11 page)

Jake sat on the ground a couple of feet away, ankles crossed leaning against the trunk of a tree. “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon?” Speaking made her head hurt more. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You been there all day?”

“I couldn’t very well wander off and leave you passed out in the park. Jesus, Morgs. You don’t think much of me do you?” He frowned.

“Can you talk any louder?” Morgan pressed a hand against her forehead. “I just know how much you hate the park during the day.”

Jake lowered his voice. “Maybe. Just the same, I had to stay.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Don’t mention it. Here,” he handed her a bottle of water, “drink this, don’t chug it.”

Morgan sat up slowly and reached for the water. After taking a couple of sips, she scooted carefully across the grass until she could lean back against the trunk of a tree. “Damn, my head hurts.”

Jake nodded. “A byproduct of feeling numb for a few hours.”

“I know. Been here, done this before. Wish I could get rid of it.” She set the water bottle down and rubbed her temples.

“I get rid of it by drinking more whiskey. I wouldn’t advise you do that, though.” He shrugged. “It will pass after a while. You’ll probably still feel like shit for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Morgan closed her eyes against the bright sunlight and listened to the soft breeze sighing through the trees of the park. Jake’s chuckle floated through the air.

Somewhere, a horn blared. Morgan contemplated finding the owner of the horn and killing them, but at that moment, it felt like too much effort. Instead, she wished lice or scabies or something equally gross and annoying on whoever it was.

They sat in silence for a long time while she sipped the water. Finally, she opened her eyes a crack again. “You can go now. You don’t have to babysit me.”

“If you have anything in your backpack to eat, you should have some of it.” He didn’t move. When she continued to stare at him through the slits in her lids, he sighed and said, “When you’re on your feet and seem reasonably capable of taking care of yourself, I’ll be on my way.”

“Fine.” Wincing at the jackhammer that continued to run full tilt inside her skull, Morgan reached over and dragged the backpack closer. She dug inside for the sub sandwich she’d bought the day before with the gift card. It didn’t look that appealing, she bit into it anyway.

Though Morgan gave it a valiant try, she couldn’t get more than a few bites down before rewrapping it and shoving it into the backpack again. She took a sip of water to wash the last of it down. Even with the construction crew demolishing her brain, she felt a little better.

After digging out a cigarette and lighting it, she glanced at Jake. “I think I’m recovered enough.”

He nodded and got to his feet. “If you say so.”

“I do.” As he started to walk away she said, “Hey, Jake.” He half turned to look back at her. “If I suddenly disappear, don’t worry about me, okay?”

Jake studied her for a long moment. “That guy that was looking for you, the one you sent Lucy with, he’s like Arabrim isn’t he?”

Morgan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not stupid, Morgan. I knew there was something different about Arabrim. Whatever it is, Damien and the blond guy are like he was.” Jake gave her a sad smile. “And I know there’s something different about you too.”

“I—”

“Don’t try to deny it.” He walked back quickly and knelt in front of her. “It’s okay. I know I can’t know whatever it is. I just want to say, last night you laughed and joked. I haven’t seen you that relaxed since Arabrim died. He was good for you even if I didn’t get to see you as much. It didn’t take whiskey to make you relax. I think this other guy might be good for you in the same way.”

Jake paused and seemed to struggle with something before finally saying, “I don’t have anywhere to go, or anyone to go to. I’m about as alone in this world as a person can get and I can’t change that. But you have people who care about you and a place to go. Don’t brush that off. Maybe you should try giving it a chance again.”

Morgan stared at him in disbelief. Not only was it the most she’d ever heard Jake say at any one time, he was saying exactly what a piece of her wanted to hear. What a piece of her secretly craved.

Jake’s earnest gray eyes searched hers. “I know Arabrim’s death screwed you up in ways I truly do understand. You still have a chance, Morgs. Take it.”

He straightened abruptly and walked away.

Morgan watched him go while inside the need to stay away and need to seek the safety net of a dark angel began to rip apart her insides again to the tune of the fading throb behind her eyes. Higher Powers knew she wanted to give into his advice and she’d promised Isobel she would think about it.

Slowly, she got to her feet and started walking. The lack of Lucy at her side was suddenly overwhelming and she felt more alone than she ever had in her life. Before Arabrim had found her, she’d been happy to just be alive and free of the terror that hung over her life at her last foster house. Living moment to moment had been enough.

Arabrim changed that, given her something else to want, a chance at a normal life. As normal as any channel could have. In a way, she hated him for giving her so much only to die and snatch it away in the process. In the same way she was still a little angry at her parents for dying and leaving her to a foster system that had sent her sister to another home at a time when they’d needed each other the most.

And that was what scared her as much as anything; getting that kind of life again with the possibility of the rug being yanked from beneath her feet. It had been hard enough to shift back into this life after Arabrim, and Morgan wasn’t sure she could do it again without a mental break. There had been too many wild swings in her life.

Alone and lost in thought, with the slowly fading hammers working away in her head and a general all over sluggish feeling, she walked aimlessly through the streets. The phone in her back pocket seemed to weigh a ton, making each step an effort as she struggled with conflicting needs.

Looking at it from a logical perspective, there was no reason not to accept what Lucian offered. If only she could separate her emotions from the decision. And so she kept moving while Jake’s words chased each other around her mind and her heart ached for the connection being around someone who knew about her powers would bring.

At the same time, the sense of self-preservation that kept her alive warned that something bigger than just random demons was brewing and if she wanted to remain counted among the living she needed Lucian.

The sun slowly sank in the west, casting the long shadows of late evening before she finally managed to force her emotions and logic together into a scary yet hopeful decision. Morgan fished a cigarette out and lit it, hoping it would help soothe the sudden anxiety that gripped her. She shook her head and took a deep drag. If it all fell apart and sent her around the bend, then she could wander around with Patsy and sing about bats and cats.

Changing course, she started walking toward the town of Golden where Damien and Isobel, and according to the card he’d left, Lucian lived. She’d been to their house several times with Arabrim. It might take all night to walk there, but at least then she was arriving under her own power. Somehow, that seemed better than having them come pick her up like some wayward child.

The memory of her fifteen-year-old self getting picked up by the police for running away filled her thoughts. She could still taste the fear when the cruiser pulled up outside the house, the same house she would finally escape a few months later; feel how her hands shook as she grabbed the backpack she’d taken with her and stepped from the car. How no one believed her foster father was abusive. How he and her foster mother lied through their teeth and been believed because Morgan had caused too much trouble at her other foster homes to ever be telling the truth. How painful that first night back had been.

She shied away from that part of the memory. No, she didn’t want to them to come pick her up. It would only create unpleasant associations even if this was nothing like her trip in the cop car had been four years ago.

For a brief moment, Morgan wondered what kind of person she would be now if her parents hadn’t died. If she’d finished growing up in the warm, loving home that they’d made for Tara and her. Or, even if that hadn’t happened, who would she be if she’d stayed with the Grissoms? Her third set of foster parents had been pretty great. They’d helped her to find the way through the grief of Tara’s death so close on the heels of her parents.

She had left that home by her own choice. It had been the right choice at the time and even if she’d known what was coming, she would still have made it. They had helped her and leaving had opened enough room in their house that they could take all four of the siblings who’d recently lost their parents instead of just three of them. It had been a selfless act, one that had turned her whole life into a mess. It remained the best thing she’d ever done, would probably ever do.

She was a channel and the irony was, Morgan didn’t feel anything like someone the Higher Powers would want to entrust their energy with. Isobel was the epitome of what Morgan thought a channel should be. Sweet, concerned with the well-being of others, and even tempered. Pretty much everything Morgan was not.

The Higher Powers must have been drunk the day they chose her. There was no other explanation for it. Flaws were okay, Morgan knew that both from the one past life where she lived to grow old, and from Arabrim. What about scarred and broken with all the little pieces barely held together? Was severely damaged really good enough?

There was no answer to that question other than the power that was a part of every fiber of her being. As Morgan slipped through the streets like a shadow, using every skill she had to go unnoticed, she couldn’t help wondering what the Higher Powers saw in her.

Though it would have been quicker to follow one of the main roads west to where Damien and Isobel lived, Morgan elected to stay on the smaller roads, cutting through slumbering neighborhoods when she could. It added some distance to the nearly twenty miles of walking she already had to do, but it was quieter and safer.

A small, somewhat rundown junkyard blocked her path. She briefly thought about skirting it before throwing the idea out. It would likely be morning before she got there as it was, the last thing she needed was to make this take longer than necessary.

The privacy fence that separated the neighborhood from the junkyard was loose at the bottom in several places. Morgan crawled through and started across the cracked pavement path between cars, old appliances, and numerous other items unidentifiable in the dark that created piles and towers. From the grass that grew through the pavement and the tall, dead stems of weeds that stood like wasted sentinels next to rusted cars, it was obvious this junkyard had fallen into disuse.

Morgan glided past a large square building with boarded up windows that perched near the center of the junk maze and froze in the shadows. They were here, she sensed them. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her head and paid more attention she would have known before ever setting foot this side of the fence. Stupid. Couldn’t be changed now.

Closing her eyes she searched for them. Five close, more farther out. She could see now they’d been closing in on her all night, staying just far enough away she didn’t pick up on it. Shit. There were going to be far too many.

THE FIRST FIVE
demons slid from around the piles of rusted metal nearest Morgan. Not a single lower-level among them. This wasn’t good. The one in the lead slinked closer, its shadowy shape barely visible against the night. Morgan embraced her power and pulled on it, welcoming the sharper senses it gave her. The shapes became easily visible in the darkness. The others would be here before she could even hope to banish any of these.

There was only one thing she could do. She raised a circle…around herself. One of the lessor mid-levels flung itself at her with a shriek and bounced back. Morgan chuckled. “It works both ways; if you can’t get out when you’re in it then you can’t get in when you’re out.”

The largest of them snarled and the smaller one shrank away. The larger shifted its red gaze to her. “Inola.”

Okay, this was just getting creepy. Morgan dug in her back pocket for her phone. Screw how it felt to be picked up. She pulled it out and touched the button on the side to turn it on.