Blood and Dust: Book Three of the Dust Trilogy Read online

  Blood and Dust

  (Book Three of the Dust Trilogy)

  V.B. Marlowe

  The Dust Trilogy

  A Girl Called Dust

  Dust and Roses

  Blood and Dust

  Contact me. I’d love to hear from you!

  [email protected]

  Twitter: @marlowewrites

  Facebook.com/vbmarlowe

  Join my mailing list to stay up-to-date on new releases and book deals: http://eepurl.com/Tb3dP

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used factiously.

  Copyright © 2016 by V.B. Marlowe. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be copied or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Printed in the United States of America.

  Cover design by: Masoumeh Tavakoli (Digital Dreams)

  Cathleen Tarawhiti: Photographer

  Blood and Dust

  (Book Three of the Dust Trilogy)

  V.B. Marlowe

  Blood and Dust

  (Book Three of the Dust Trilogy)

  V.B. Marlowe

  Blood and Dust

  By V.B. Marlowe

  Contents

  Part One

  What Legends Are Made of

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Part Two

  The Man Upstairs

  And

  The Sender

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Part Three

  Blood and Dust

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Part One

  What Legends Are Made of

  Always Something

  Everything was supposed to go back to normal—or at least back to the way it was before. I no longer had an animal living inside of me. The cravings I had for meat and flesh were gone. I should have been able to enjoy my senior year of high school like everyone else. The others only had to worry about getting into the college of their choice, who to take to the homecoming dance, or what to wear to prom. I had a whole different set of problems—life and death problems.

  Most people thought urban legends were just scary stories passed down from generation to generation. It’s actually a lot more complicated than that. Legends were living breathing entities who thrived off killing people. They were the ghosts of people who had been wronged in the past and driven by vengeance. These spirits had possessed bodies years ago and had been lying dormant ever since. Now that their hosts were nearing adulthood, the spirits were awake, putting anyone who crossed their paths in danger.

  Even though I had seen some strange things over the past year, I’d spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that the whole idea of living urban legends was ridiculous. I wanted to be done with all the craziness so I made myself believe that Legends were only myths. But that night—the night before the first day of my senior year, a Legend stood on my bedroom balcony. I knew from its scent that it wasn’t Human, nor was it like me.

  I’d closed my eyes and almost drifted off to sleep when a blast of frosty air bolted me upright in my bed. Through my white curtains, the shadow of a hulking figure reached for the doorknob.

  I should have been doing something—running, screaming for help, reaching for my phone—something, but fear kept me anchored to my bed. The figure yanked at the knob three times before the doors gave in and burst open. The temperature seemed to drop another ten degrees. Like a frightened child, I pulled my bed covers up underneath my chin. I had powers to stop the mysterious intruder, but I hadn't used them in months and they were still weak. They definitely weren’t stronger than the panic causing my heart to race.

  The figure was at least six feet tall with broad shoulders. The balcony doors let in a faint moonlight that allowed me to make out his silhouette. He stood at the foot of my bed with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  I waited for him to speak or do something, but he just stood there.

  I swallowed hard. “Who are you? What do you want?” My voice was only a whisper.

  “Don’t worry about who I am.” His voice was low and angry. “Just worry about who you are. You’re one of us. We don’t go after our own unless we have to.”

  I sat up straighter and inched toward my nightstand where my phone was charging. “What does that mean?”

  "It means you confuse me. Technically, you're one of us. You killed the man who was hunting us down so we thought you were one of us. But now, there's been talk that you want to take his place, that you're trying to take us out."

  I glanced at my phone. It seemed so far away.

  “By the time you reach for that phone I would have sliced your throat from ear to ear.” He held up something long and pointy. “I was a premed student before . . . things happened.”

  Summoning up every bit of courage I had, I planted my feet on the floor, stood, and faced him. “Do you know what I am?”

  “Yes,” he said after a moment of silence.

  “Then you know that I don’t need to call the police and you also know that you can’t kill a Banshee by slicing her throat.” If he wanted me dead, he would have to grind my bones into dust.

  His head bobbed in the darkness. “I know. I know. But I would leave you with a pretty gruesome scar. And your family, they’re a little more fragile, aren’t they? I could kill them with a single puncture to the right artery before they even knew what was happening.” He pointed the sharp thing at me. “Sit.”

  I lowered myself unto the bed at the thought of him hurting my parents and sisters. “Please, just leave.”

  With one quick motion, he stood over me, sticking the blade of the object underneath my chin. If I wanted to kill him, I needed to focus, but I was too afraid for that.

  “You know the rules. We don’t hurt our own. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t stop what you’re doing. It’s simple. Leave us alone and we’ll leave you alone. Keep trying to find us and we will find a way to make dust out of those precious bones of yours.” He took the blade away and moved toward the balcony doors.

  I sat still, too terrified to watch him leave. When I was sure he was gone, I switched on my lamp and locked the doors that led to the balcony. In the mirror I noticed a small red mark underneath my chin.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I wondered what my next move should be. I could wake my father and tell him what happened, but there was nothing he could do. I could call one of my friends, but it was after 2 AM.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I crawled back under my covers, but I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep. I had been tasked with finding the Legends and getting rid of them, but how was I supposed to do that if the Legends killed me first?

  Chapter One

  Mrs. Hoover was the most boring teacher I ever had. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt since it was only the first day of school, but as she wrote the words, Five Things About Me across the dry-erase board, I knew it was going t
o be a long year. That was just as bad as the How I Spent My Summer Vacation assignment we’d been given since the second grade. Thankfully it would be the last year I had to muddle through this meaningless assignment. I was sure my college professors would have better things to do than worry about the insanity of my life.

  With a deep sigh, I pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. Mrs. Hoover took a seat behind her desk, leaving us to work on our own for a few minutes. I scribbled my name across the top of the page in messy script. Senioritis was not a myth—it was a real condition. I was so over high school it wasn’t even funny. All I wanted to do was get the year over with and go on with my life.

  I glanced around the room at my classmates as they hunched over their desks writing away and then I got busy myself.

  Five Things About Me:

  1. I am a Banshee. I can see people’s deaths before they happen. I can cause a person’s death by thinking about it. I’ve done it before.

  2. I live with Mom and Dad, but they’re not my parents. I was switched at birth. Who knew that kind of stuff really happened, huh?

  3. I have two friends, maybe three. There’s one girl I’m not sure about. She might be my friend. One of my friends is Fletcher and I’m in love with him. The crazy thing is, he actually loves me back.

  4. If you ever hear kids talking about a girl named Dust, they’re talking about me. It’s a long story.

  5. My friends and I are on a mission to bring down living urban legends. Can you believe there are actually four living in this very town? One came into my bedroom last night.

  I wadded the sheet of paper into a tight ball. There was no way I would share those things with my teacher or anyone, but it felt good to see them down on paper so I could sort them out. If there was one thing I could say about my life, it wasn’t boring.

  A few heads turned in my direction, drawn by the sound of the crumpling paper. They immediately turned back around to mind their own business. Most people paid me very little attention and I liked it that way.

  I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and started again

  Five Things About Me:

  1. My name is Arden Moss.

  2. I have a mom, a dad, and two younger sisters.

  3. My best friends are Fletcher Whitelock and Imani Hughes.

  4. The only things I wear are dresses I’ve made myself.

  5. My other name is Dust.

  Once I was done, I realized that most of the class was finished and waiting for Mrs. Hoover. My eyes wandered around the room to the apple borders that decorated the bulletin boards, the browning motivational posters with tattered edges, and the globes and antiquated encyclopedias that lined the shelves. I couldn’t wait to get out of that place, and by place, I meant Everson Woods all together. Everson was a small town surrounded by thick forests, and most of the time those forests felt like walls closing in on me. For the past few months it’s felt like a prison. All I needed was my acceptance letter to Oregon State and I would be as good as gone.

  Finally, Mrs. Hoover pushed her rolling chair away from her desk as she held on to a clip board. I chuckled to myself because she resembled a teacup. Mrs. Hoover was short and stout with auburn hair pulled up into a braid that stuck out of her head like a handle. I found it an odd choice for an adult hairstyle, but then Mrs. Hoover seemed odd all around. She wore an apron over a flower-printed dress. That would be understandable if she were teaching the Culinary Arts class, but this was Advanced Literature. And even though Trista Pimentel had told Mrs. Hoover at the beginning of class that she had lipstick on her teeth, it was still there. I didn’t see how someone could be odd and boring at the same time, but Mrs. Hoover managed to do it.

  She shot me a cold glare and several kids turned to stare at me. Apparently I hadn’t been laughing to myself. I gave her a small smile as if to say, “Sorry.”

  She turned her attention back to her clipboard. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll go around the room and you’ll each share your list with us so we can all get to know each other.”

  The class groaned, but Mrs. Hoover ignored us. I didn’t want to know any more about those people and they didn’t want to know about me. This was our senior year. Most of us had been together since elementary school. What we didn’t know after all those years, we probably didn’t care to know. I sank into my seat waiting for my turn like I was waiting to get a lip wax. Yes, Mrs. Hoover was indeed the most boring teacher ever and I couldn’t wait for the first day of school to become the last day of school.

  Once you’re a senior the first day isn’t such a big deal any more. It’s just another first day. You already know everyone. You know the teachers, where to find your classroom, which lockers to stay away from, and how everything works. There’s nothing fresh and new to discover other than a few summer makeovers. It had however, been a huge event for my sister Paige. It was her first day of high school. I supposed a normal big sister would have given her advice and showed her around, but Paige and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. We were as opposite as ice and lava. In fact, Paige had come into my room the night before to say: “FYI, when we’re at school, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. No offense.”

  None taken. Despite her inflated sense of self, I loved my sister, but I had no desire to hang out with her at school. Besides she was just a freshman. No one would ever mistake us for being sisters if they judged us by our looks. Paige was blond with blue eyes like the rest of our family while my hair and eyes were the darkest ebony.

  On the way to lunch I spotted Paige sauntering down the hallway in her new five-inch heels followed by a small group of girls. I couldn’t believe Mom had bought her those ridiculous shoes. Where had she learned to walk like that? A rock formed in my stomach as I realized my sister was the new version of Lacey Chapman, the meanest girl to ever enter my life.

  Paige and her friends walked by me without an ounce of acknowledgement with their noses in the air and self-assured smiles on their faces. Other girls looked on with either hate or admiration. I shook my head and kept moving. Paige was a lost cause. Since I could easily imagine Mom acting the same way in high school, I figured the Mean Girl Gene had been woven into her DNA. I only hoped she would never treat anyone the way Lacey Chapman treated me. Lacey was the one who had gotten the entire school to call me Dust at the start of our freshman year. According to her the name suited me perfectly since I was invisible and insignificant.

  The cafeteria staff decided to celebrate the first day by serving tacos. Grabbing my tray, I grimaced at the mystery meat wedged into the tortilla shell, before making my way to our designated lunch table. Fletcher, Imani, and I always ate outside at the picnic table farthest from the school. It was a long walk, but no one bothered us there. We ate and talked in peace without people looking on and saying how weird we were. Aside from the solitude, it would be nice to enjoy the last, lingering traces of summer before we trudged on into fall.

  I was the last to arrive. Imani had her trusty notebook open, frowning as she scribbled across the page furiously. Must have been something important because her egg salad sandwich rested on the table untouched. Fletcher had removed everything from his taco and was only eating the tortilla shell. “Trust me, do not eat the insides,” he said as I placed my tray on the table and took a seat beside him. The taco looked even less appetizing in the sunlight. I decided to start with my fruit cup.

  Before I lifted the lid, I gave Fletcher a quick peck on the cheek. “So, how was your first day?” I noticed that his shaggy, chestnut hair was a little shorter than usual. His mom must have made him get a haircut the day before.

  Fletcher shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just glad this is the last first day of high school I will ever have.” He wanted out of Everson as much as I did.

  We locked eyes. His hair may have been shorter, but his amber eyes were as beautiful as ever and I couldn’t help but kiss his perfect, pink lips. He smiled and went back to his lunch.

  “What are you doing?”
I asked Imani, even though I already knew.

  She pushed her long, black braids off her neck. “I’m seeing where we are on Project L. Dad said they got some strange reports at the station last night and I’m sure they’re related to you know what.”

  My stomach churned. Project L was code for our urban legend investigation. Since the area around us was deserted, there was really no need for the secrecy, but Imani lived for code names and stuff like that. She wanted to be an FBI investigator so she practiced her skills every chance she got. Her father was a police captain, so maybe it was in her blood.

  I should have told them about what had happened the night before, but I was embarrassed. We had been racking our brains trying to locate these Legends, yet when there was one right in front of me I choked up. They would want to know why and I didn’t have an answer other than I had been paralyzed with fear and my powers only worked when I was super focused.

  I didn’t want to talk about any of it, especially not at school, but we didn’t have much of a choice. The Legends had to be dealt with, sooner rather than later and we’d already wasted the entire summer not making any progress.

  Having Imani back was a relief. She’d spent the summer in her hometown of Houston visiting her grandparents, so she was trying to make up for lost time. That was great because Fletcher and I pretty much sucked at solving mysteries on our own.

  “Here’s what we know,” Imani continued, “there are still six Legends floating around somewhere and according to Ms. Melcher four of them live in Everson.”

  That made sense. Oregon was one of the five states creatures resided in, so the Legends would be somewhere in the northwest.

  Imani was in her element. She jumped on any mystery she had the chance of unraveling. She was smart, on top of being gorgeous. Her skin was mahogany, flawless, and to die for. She had heart-shaped lips and high cheek bones that belonged in beauty ads. It was still beyond me why she chose to be friends with me and Fletcher, the school weirdos, when she had moved to Everson Woods earlier that year. She could have totally been in Lacey’s clique if she’d wanted. Lacey had even asked her but Imani had turned down the offer.