Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  The commander stopped convulsing and his chest remained still, his eyes wide and glossy, staring at the ceiling and Matthew shivered, almost feeling the commander’s passing.

  The medics worked frantically to revive the commander, but with each failed attempt, his son’s overwhelming sadness permeated his mind and he glanced over as Katrina knelt beside him.

  “I’m sorry, Kat.” He glanced in her direction, his face hot with red-tinged tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  Katrina’s expression slowly registered what was happening and she glanced back at the medics working on her father. She sat down hard on the floor by André.

  All this seemed to flow in slow motion and Matthew looked at the small crowd peering into the room from the hallway. He stepped to the door and closed it on the curious onlookers, turning back to the room and focusing on Captain Shaw.

  “I had the laser on stun,” he said, showing Matthew the setting.

  Matthew nodded. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Captain.”

  “It was on stun,” the captain repeated.

  “I know,” Matthew replied. He glanced back at André and Katrina. André was pale, with streaks of bloody tears running down his cheeks. He turned his attention back to the military police. “Captain Shaw, what’s the protocol here?” he asked, trying to get his focus away from the medic’s vain attempts to revive the commander.

  “You are second-in-command, sir.” Captain Shaw said. “Ordinarily when the commander retires or passes on, the second-in-command takes the post.”

  “This isn’t an ordinary situation, Captain.”

  Captain Shaw nodded, staring at his dead commander on the floor. He returned his gaze to Matthew and then beyond the colonel at the two teenagers. Taking a deep breath, he returned Matthew’s questioning stare. “It looks like the commander had a heart attack while visiting with his daughter,” he stated.

  Matthew’s eyebrows creased. “What about my son?”

  “An accident that resulted from the heart attack,” Captain Shaw replied.

  Cal looked up at Matthew and Captain Shaw. “Accident, my ass. He stabbed that kid.”

  Matthew shot a warning glance at Cal. “As far as everyone in this room is concerned, it was an accident. Got it?” he said with authority.

  “It was an accident,” André echoed from behind Matthew.

  Captain Shaw holstered the gun. “Are you all right?” he asked the boy.

  André shrugged.

  Cal looked at his partner. “Call it,” he said.

  “Time of death fifteen forty-five,” she said as she glanced at her watch.

  “Captain Shaw, you are dismissed.” Matthew picked up the phone on the desk, placing a call to the president to inform him that the commander had passed away.

  Cal crossed to André checking his wound and meeting his gaze. A flurry of questions flew through his head, including why the commander had stabbed him.

  “Just patch me up and forget about it,” André said under his breath and received a slight nod in response.

  Cal glanced at Katrina and back to André. “You’re married?”

  André nodded. “Four months ago.”

  “Aren’t you a little young?”

  André shifted under the weight of Katrina. “Ouch,” he responded as the pain exploded in his side. The room started to spin and André blinked. “Shit,” he whispered and passed out cold, slumping onto Katrina.

  Cal pushed Katrina out of the way and laid André on the ground, cutting the shirt away.

  Matthew looked in their direction, still holding for the president. He felt the blood drain from his face at the sight and considered hanging up as the president himself picked up the line. “Sir, I’m calling to inform you that Commander Lawrence had a fatal heart attack in his office,” he said, his voice absent of the concern racing through him.

  Cal grabbed the medical bag and found a bottle of iodine, dumping it in the cut and praying that André wasn’t allergic to the sterile liquid. “Sandy, hold the wound open,” he said and reached for the cauterization laser. He handed her the lighting instrument after she opened the wound with a retractor. Shining the light inside illuminated the path of the knife and Cal blew out a stream of air. Carefully, he pointed the laser and cauterized the cut on the large intestine. He looked up at Sandy. “Can you turn it to make sure we got the entire cut?”

  The color drained from Katrina’s face as she watched the medic reach in to inspect André’s guts.

  “Looks like you got it, Captain,” Sandy said.

  “Okay, remove the retractors, please,” he instructed. When the skin flapped back together, Cal used the laser to cauterize the entry wound, leaving a dark black line of melded skin where the gaping knife wound had been.

  André’s breathing remained shallow through the impromptu surgery and Cal picked up André’s wrist, searching for his pulse. The result was sporadic at best and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Come on, kid, I can’t lose you too.”

  Matthew’s eyes went wide with those words, especially in concert with Cal’s thoughts, thoughts centering on blood transfusion and the conversation they had years ago about risks. He hung up on the president and crossed the room, falling to his knees next to André and leaning close to his ear. “Don’t you die, you hear me?” he demanded of his unconscious child. “You hear me?” His command filled the room.

  André’s eyes fluttered open. “I’m not deaf, Dad.” He looked up at his father, weariness reflecting in his eyes.

  Katrina let out a startled laugh and threw herself onto André, covering his face with kisses and tears. “You scared the hell out of me,” she said and sat back up.

  Cal still had the fingers of his good hand on André’s arm, feeling the pulse in his patient return to normal. “Glad to have you back.”

  “It still hurts like hell,” he said. “But you did a pretty good patch job.” He looked at the scar on his side. “And I wasn’t even close to dying,” he replied. “I did pass out, but I thought it was better for me to stay checked out while you did your thing.”

  “You were aware of what we were doing?”

  André nodded. “Yes. I did the same thing on the ship. I slowed down my body functions to conserve energy.” He shrugged. “It saved oxygen.”

  Cal sighed. “You still amaze me, kiddo.”

  Matthew focused on Sandy. “None of this is to leave this room, understand?”

  Sandy looked at Matthew, and then back at Cal. “Who is this kid?”

  Cal glanced at her. “You don’t have clearance,” he answered, keeping the secret in check.

  Sandy sat back on her heels, surprised by the response of her superior officer. “And you do?”

  “Yup,” Cal replied and winked at André. “And if you breathe a word of this, I’ll have you court-martialed.” He glanced at Sandy.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered with an unhappy pout. She looked over at André and he shrugged a little in her direction.

  The phone on the desk rang, making all of them jump. Matthew answered it before the second ring. “I’m sorry, sir, I had an issue to attend to.”

  “I’m an issue now,” André whispered, allowing a crooked smile to grace his features. He glanced at Katrina and his smile disappeared. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  Katrina’s chin began to shake and she nodded as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

  André reached for her, putting his hand on her cheek. “Ah, baby,” he whispered, forgetting that there were others in the room. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

  “He’ll never know his grandchild.”

  “Kat, I’m not sure he would have anyway,” André replied.

  Cal and his partner were packing up the medical supplies and he looked in the direction of Katrina and André. “You’re expecting?”

  She nodded in response.

  He glanced at André, and then at the covered deceased commander and back. He raised his eyebrows. I
s that why?

  André heard Cal’s thought and shrugged. Please let it go. André half nodded and glanced in the direction of Sandy.

  “Corporal, you’re dismissed,” Cal stated and watched as his partner shuffled the supplies out of the office, closing the door behind her. He glanced in the direction of the colonel and then at André. “You can read minds?”

  André sent a glance in his father’s direction and then back to the captain. He figured if his father and Cal schemed to get the commander to agree to letting him stay with Matthew, he could level with him without worry. “Yes.”

  “He can teach people to do the things he can,” Katrina said, wiping her face.

  Cal rubbed his chin with his uninjured hand, considering the possibilities. His left hand still dripped from the bite wounds the commander inflicted, blood staining the carpet where he stood, his mind whirling.

  Matthew slowly hung up the phone and glanced at André and Katrina. He moved his eyes to Cal. “I know what you’re thinking,” he stated. “I thought the same thing but it’s a big responsibility.”

  Cal shifted his gaze back at André. “What else can you do?” he asked, looking down at his hand.

  “I can’t fix your hand,” André replied to the question in Cal’s mind. “The power to heal is a myth; the power to control your body functions so a wound doesn’t kill you isn’t.” He stood up with the help of Katrina, glancing at his father. “You’re the Commander now?” he asked.

  Matthew nodded glancing at the covered body of his friend on the floor. The president had promoted him over the phone. “Yes.” He finally verbalized the reply.

  “So, are you going to let me enlist?” André asked.

  Matthew gaped at his son. “You have to finish high school,” he replied. There was no leeway in his answer.

  André took a deep breath. “I can help you create a special force of soldiers, Dad.”

  “To do what?” Matthew snapped.

  “To protect and preserve the laws of the United States.”

  “André, this is not a discussion I am having with you. You have to finish high school first before I will even entertain such a thought.” He glanced at Katrina. “Besides, you’ll have a child in six months. Your priorities may change when you’re a father.”

  Cal still stood in the center of the room. “Once you teach someone, can they teach someone else?”

  “No,” André answered. “I mean, once the barrier in a person’s mind is broken, yes, they can help teach someone to use their own powers, but I’m the only one who can break the barrier.”

  Intrigued, Cal asked, “Why?”

  André allowed a crooked smile. “Because I’m not from around here.”

  Cal looked at Matthew. “I’d like to volunteer.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Not now, Captain.” Maybe in a few years.

  Cal nodded and saluted his commanding officer. “Yes, sir.” He glanced at André once again as he picked up his radio. “I need someone to come collect the body of Commander Lawrence,” he transmitted.

  “Already on the way,” a voice squawked from the other end. A knock on the door sounded in unison.

  “You two need to get home,” Matthew said to André and Katrina.

  “Yes, sir,” André said and led Katrina out of the room as members of the coroner’s office converged.

  11

  May 2240

  Matthew was in his office when the call came in.

  “Dad?” André’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Yes?” Matthew said. He was reading a brief and wasn’t giving the call his full attention.

  “Kat’s in labor,” André said, his voice strained, and near panic.

  Matthew’s attention snapped to the phone as both the words and the emotion from his son reached the recesses of Matthew’s mind. “What?”

  “Kat’s in labor. What do I do?”

  “Where are you?”

  “We were at school when her water broke. I brought her home.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “I don’t know,” André said. “She’s in labor,” he repeated.

  “Get her to the hospital, you idiot,” Matthew said, shooting out of his chair. “I’ll meet you there.”

  The simplicity of what his father just said made him laugh aloud. He panicked to the point of stupidity. “Okay. I’ll see you there,” André replied and hung up the phone.

  André collected Katrina and brought her to the hospital.

  “It’s going to be okay,” André said, pulling up to the emergency room. He put his arm around her waist and led her into the hospital, escorting her to the reception desk. “My wife’s in labor,” he announced.

  The nurse looked up and her brow furrowed.

  “My wife is in labor,” he replied. “Her water broke at school,” he added, looking in Katrina’s direction.

  Katrina groaned as the next contraction ripped through her.

  The nurse responded immediately, coming around and leading Katrina to a room nearby and getting her settled on the bed with a soft pillow and a blanket, explaining the process. “Once the doctor takes a look, we’ll transport you up to the maternity ward,” she said and left the two of them alone.

  Katrina squeezed André’s hand so hard, he thought it would break, but he didn’t say a word, just smiled at her and wiped the hair out of her face, keeping his frantic thoughts to himself.

  “Something’s wrong,” she gasped.

  André put his hand on her stomach and his smile faded. She was right; something was very wrong. The emotions he picked up from their child were not the simple contentment he had felt over the last four months; no, this was alarm wrapped around agonizing pain. Pulling his hand away, he lifted the blanket. The bedding under Katrina was soaked with blood and the flow just kept coming.

  “Jesus,” he gasped and his gaze shot up, meeting her wide, scared eyes. “You need to slow your body functions down, Kat,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back. Just concentrate on what I taught you. Okay?”

  “Don’t leave me!”

  “I have to get the doctor. Slow your heart down, Kat. Right now,” he commanded and bolted out of the room.

  André’s eyes darted both ways down the hall, zeroing in on a doctor leaning on the nurse’s station, flirting with the nurse who had brought them to the room. “My wife is bleeding,” he announced as he flew to the doctor and grabbed his arm. “You have to do something.”

  “Hold up, son,” the doctor said, trying to pull out of André’s grasp.

  André shot a warning look at him. “She is hemorrhaging. There’s blood all over the bed. You need to get the baby out and fix her. Now.” He shoved the doctor through the door into the room.

  The doctor’s irritation ended abruptly at the sight that met him. “Nurse!” he yelled and went into action.

  The nurse stepped into the room and stopped in her tracks, the amount of blood daunting even to a professional, but she recovered, turning to André. “Sir, you need to leave while they work on your wife,” she said.

  André shook his head and moved closer to Katrina, putting his hand on the top of her head. “She’s my wife. I’m not leaving her,” he insisted, threading his fingers into her hair. Come on, baby; you can do it. Just hang on.

  “She needs surgery and you can’t go in with us,” the doctor snapped.

  “Yes I can. All you have to do is get me scrubs.”

  The doctor shot a glance at André as they began to roll Katrina out of the room.

  “I’m not leaving her,” André insisted. “I promised her I wouldn’t.”

  “She won’t know any different,” the nurse said as they rolled by.

  André glared at her and pushed. “Get me a pair of scrubs, now,” he growled low.

  She blinked, nodded and wandered away, coming back a few minutes later with what he asked for.

  André changed into the thin, sterile fabric, putting the mask over his face and the cap over hi
s hair. He walked into the operating room and sat down near Katrina’s head. “I’m here.” He closed his eyes, putting his forehead against hers for a moment. “Just don’t die, okay?” He kissed her temple and pulled away, allowing the anesthesiologist to put the oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. The IV was already in her arm, pumping medicine, anesthesia, and precious blood into her system.

  Surgeons converged, paying little attention to André, who stayed close to Katrina’s head with his gloved hand lying gently on her shoulder. Within minutes, they pulled his child from Katrina’s abdomen and handed him off to the nursing staff before returning their attention to finding the hemorrhage site and stopping the bleeding.

  André turned his attention away from the flurry of thoughts in the surgeon’s head to the nurses and the child they were cleaning and swaddling. A boy. His son. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes closed, dousing the tears from starting. Joy and trepidation lined his stomach and he shot the thought to Katrina. A son. We have a son, babe.

  The baby let out a healthy cry from the other side of the room and André smiled. “The baby’s just fine,” he whispered in Katrina’s ear.

  “Damn it, her blood pressure’s dropping,” the surgeon swore. With seconds to decide, he did the only thing he could to save her life; he took out her uterus.

  André understood what happened even without the doctor’s frantic thoughts. Any chance of another child died with the doctor’s actions and for a few precarious moments, Katrina almost followed, but the doctor was able to find the source of the hemorrhage and cauterize it, closing down the uncontrollable fountain of blood.

  Hanging his head, he let the tears slip out, but contained the sob that threatened. Relief, joy, and sorrow all culminated into a perfect storm of emotion; he swallowed the cyclone, diffusing it for the sake of his son. He glanced in the direction of the wailing child and wiped his face with the hem of his scrubs, standing and heading in the direction of the noise.