Bound by Legend: A Bound Novel (14 page)

Her foster father’s shouts carried through the house. She’d known this was coming after her foster mother found the cigarettes. The bedroom door shuddered under the force of his kick and flew open, pieces of the frame soared into the room. Morgan cringed as he charged toward her, violence in his eyes. In a quick movement, she flung herself off the end of the bed just before his hand connected. Enraged, he turned toward her.

Her foster father swung at her. She blocked it. His other fist came out of nowhere and smashed into the side of her face, sending Morgan crashing into the door of the closet. His foot came at her. Still reeling from the punch, there was nothing she could do but watch it come. Tara’s startled and obviously upset face appeared in front of her.

Morgan jerked partially awake as her fist connected with something hard in her attempt to protect the dream Tara from the monster of her nightmares. Disoriented by the dim and unfamiliar room, she swung again at the man in front of her and sprang off the couch.

Lighting quick, he caught her wrist and held it in an iron grip. The vivid images from the dream faded and Morgan stared into Lucian’s eyes. She slowly relaxed as she recognized the living room of his house, her heart pounding with left over adrenaline.

Lucian watched her with wary concern, his jaw aching from the right hook it had taken. When it seemed she was more aware of her surroundings, he released her wrist. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and looked around the room again, further relaxing from the stance she’d landed in after bolting off the couch. Though her expression was back to its normal closed state, there had been no mistaking the terror on her face when she first woke.

He waited, trying to give her the space she needed. The space he needed as well. Everything in him pushed to protect her from whatever frightened her. To shield her from it. They were emotions he wasn’t familiar with. Protecting a channel from danger yes, but not like this. And he really didn’t want to get familiar with the feelings.

When she suddenly walked toward the sliding glass doors, he started to follow but stopped when she held her hand up and said, “Please. I just need a minute.”

He didn’t miss how her hands shook as she dug her cigarettes out of her pocket.

Morgan stepped through the door into the crisp late evening. How long had it been since she slept the entire day away? A whiskey-fueled sleep not included. Not even with Arabrim had she slept more than a couple of hours at a time. It was conditioning. With hands that still trembled from the adrenaline rush, she pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Lucy bounded across the yard to her and Morgan laid a hand on the dog’s head while she took several long drags, inhaling deeply each time. The cool breeze drifted across the yard with the scent of far-off pine and she welcomed the shiver it brought. It reaffirmed she was awake.

It had been a couple of years since the nightmare had progressed that far. Usually, her imaginary Tara showed up as soon as the door kicked in. Morgan wasn’t sure why the memory of her sister always ended the dream, or why she dreamed of a more grown-up Tara instead of an eleven-year-old one. The first few times she’d had it, the dream had progressed with every vivid detail of that horrible night.

Another deep drag and she glanced at the house. She could stay a closed book and tell Lucian where to stick it when he asked, and he would ask. Or, she could be fair to him since she
had
punched him and talk about it. The latter idea had her taking another drag. She’d never spoken with anyone about it. Even Jake only knew the basic outline of what happened. He didn’t know how bad things were when she first ran away and only knew how bad it had gotten because of the condition she was in when she finally found him.

Something about Lucian pulled at her, made her want to open up. Her nerves, still raw from the nightmare, remained undecided.

The door slid open and the object of her thoughts stepped through. Morgan looked down at the spent cigarette in her hand. She’d smoked it all the way to the filter without realizing it. After tossing it in the flowerpot, she pulled out another one.

MORGAN LIT THE
cigarette as her stomach twisted itself in knots and he took a seat in one of the patio chairs. Nervous, she took a couple of drags before saying, “Hey.”

It sounded forced and unsure even to her ears.

“Are you all right now?” It wasn’t the way Arabrim had asked that question when worried about her health or injuries. There was something different in the timbre of Lucian’s voice that pushed at the walls around her heart.

“Not really.” She could lie and do it well, but for some reason Morgan couldn’t identify, she didn’t want to lie to Lucian. “Look, I’m not sure what kind of channel you’re used to having but you got saddled with a really screwed up one this time.”

“I’m not usually assigned a specific channel. I’ve been a free agent for several lives, since the late 1400’s.” His eyes tracked her movement as she paced. “I have, however, met a lot of channels and none have been quite like you. I wouldn’t say you’re screwed up, just different.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. Whatever. I’ve lived two other lives, you know. Well, that might be stretching it. The first life was pretty short and I don’t remember much.” The memory brought on by the demon-possessed in the alley swam through her mind. “I mainly remember dying. My second life, there isn’t a lot either. I do know that I was a very different person in that life.”

She paused and took a drag, allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. This first part was easier. This she’d told Arabrim. “My parents in this life were wonderful. They died when I was twelve. My mother’s dark angel was killed then, too. I didn’t know that until Arabrim told me he passed into waiting the same day as my parents’ death.”

Now came the hard part. The part she’d skimmed over and brushed off without ever really telling Arabrim. She started pacing. “Without any other family, my younger sister, Tara, and I were sent to foster care. To separate homes.” A bitter chuckle escaped with a cloud of smoke. “I wanted so badly to be with my sister I ran away multiple times from my first two foster homes in my attempts to find her. Then one evening my second foster parents caught me trying to sneak out my window. They sat me down with grave faces as if they really gave a crap and told me Tara had been killed in a car accident.”

Morgan ground out the butt and lit another one. “I was so upset and they really didn’t seem to care. Or maybe they did and I was too messed up to realize it. Either way, I kind of lost myself. I wasn’t an easy kid to deal with after that. I ditched school, drank, smoked a lot of weed, hung out with all of the wrong people. I was only there for six months before they’d had enough.

“Then I was sent to the Grissoms.” The fond memories of them brought a small feeling of warmth. “They were great. I spent the next four months with them and they helped to put the pieces of me back together. As good as they were, I couldn’t stay there.

“I spent the next three months with a new set of foster parents. They tried; I have to honestly say that. They put up with more crap than they should have, I’m sure. It didn’t help that my memories and powers started showing up. My mother had been very open about what might happen if we were like her. Knowing what was happening didn’t help. I suddenly had secrets I couldn’t tell anyone about. If I’d stayed with the Grissoms, the pieces they put back together might have stayed mended through it. Might have healed. But I didn’t stay and the pieces didn’t either.”

She paused while she took a couple more drags. “I changed foster homes about every three months after that. Nothing permanent, always moving. Then I went to the Parkers.”

Morgan’s lifted the cigarette to her mouth with a trembling hand. These memories were hard to face and she wasn’t sure if she could venture into the dark place where they resided. Morgan struggled to find the words to open it all up again. “It was…terrible.”

When she didn’t say anything more and the silence had grown heavy, Lucian finally broke it. “Are they what you were dreaming about?”

A shiver ran through her and she remained quiet. The walls built around those memories were solid for a reason. To take them down would make her more vulnerable than she ever wanted to be again. “It…I…”

Lucian held his hand up to stop her. “Don’t. If it hurts as much as your expression says it does to go there right now, then don’t. I won’t push. When and if you are ever ready, I’m here.”

Relief washed through Morgan so intense it almost made her weak in the legs. Gratitude was close on its heels along with shame. So determined to do this and, in the end, she chickened out. She grimaced. “I’m sorry I punched you.”

“I have to admit, you know how to hit.” He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. “Where did you learn that or is that something you’d rather not talk about right now?”

“Jake taught me,” Morgan said with a grin.

“You’re pretty close with him.”

Morgan nodded and took the final drag off her cigarette before grinding it out. “Yeah. He’s a really good guy. Without him, I would probably be dead.”

“I’m glad you have him then.”

“So am I.” She shoved the lighter in her pocket and sat on the low wall that enclosed the patio.

Morgan stared at the ground and for a few minutes they sat in silence. Unlike before, it was a comfortable sort. She may not have been able to tell him all about her past, but there was something else she could tell him. Something she really needed to since it would concern him eventually. “The demons in the city, they’re after me personally.”

His head jerked up, eyes suddenly hard. “How do you know this?”

“They, uh…they told me.”

“Told you?” He had gone perfectly still.

“Yeah. They first mentioned it right after you left the tower and a bunch attacked. The one the other night, when I had you take Lucy, was more specific. And then again last night.”

“Morgan, demons rarely speak to any outside the Underworld unless they’re in possession of a human. When they do speak, especially to a channel, it’s because they’re trying to sway you. Newer channels, those with only a couple of lives under their belts like you, are often their targets.”

“I kind of figured that out when one of them started chatting about joining with some demon named Kalona and how if I didn’t, this Kalona would rip my heart out.”

“Any idea why the Kalona would be interested in you?”

Morgan shrugged. “Not really. I don’t even know who he is.”

“He’s an upper-level demon set loose and then trapped again by a Cherokee shaman who was also a channel.” Lucian frowned. “He was set loose by swaying that woman.”

“The demons keep calling me Inola.” Morgan said, her mind shuddering away from the idea of a channel turning bad. “And the other night one called me, ‘little black fox.’ It was my name in my first life. I have no idea why they use it now. Even in my second life, I was Morgan. When the demon-possessed confronted me in the alley, it forced a memory to the surface of my death in my first life. It’s the only memory I’ve had of that life except for a few fuzzy images of my mother in a white dress.”

“There has to be something to the name Inola.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, frustration clear in his expression. “We’ll figure it out. I’m glad you told me about it. If they’re after you specifically, we’re going to have to be extra careful about everything and you’ll need to stay inside as much as possible.”

“Whoa, slow down there.” Morgan jumped to her feet and began to pace again. His talk of her staying inside sent agitation crawling through her. She gnawed at her thumbnail, tearing a bit off and spitting it on the ground. “I’m not used to staying in one place, much less inside a lot.”

Something akin to panic washed over her. Her heart rate picked up. If he expected her to sit all cooped up until this Kalona thing was figured out then he had a few screws loose. She dug a cigarette out and lit it, taking a long drag off it.

“Morgan,” Lucian’s tone was low and soothing. “I’m not suggesting you never go anywhere. Calm down. I can see asking something like that of you would be too much. I will ask that you at least let me know when you’re leaving and where you’re going. And that you keep your phone on you. Please. It will make it faster and easier to help you should there be need.”

“You won’t try to stop me from leaving.” She eyed him warily. Yeah, she could kick some serious ass, but holding her own against a dark angel? Not likely. They were faster and stronger than a demon.