Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  André shrugged. “I don’t think so. I might need a week’s worth of sleep afterwards, but that’s it. Your friends,” he said, nodding in the direction of the small clan making a beeline to the baby.

  Katrina turned to the group with a smile, taking note that not one of them gave André a second glance. She smiled and picked up Sam, showing him off to the crowd of girls.

  André stood to the side, letting Sam take center stage. He glanced around the beach. None of the women turned to look at him like they had before. There were no more lewd thoughts emanating from the strangers on the beach, nor from any of Katrina’s friends. He sighed with a measure of disappointment mixed with relief.

  Katrina glanced back at him and smiled.

  He hated when she was right but he returned her smile anyway. “Do you want me to run to the store while you stay here with Sammy?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” he said and wandered away. André walked into the store and headed toward the baby supplies. He turned a corner and Anna stood next to her mother, looking at headache medicines.

  She glanced in his direction and her eyes widened with shock.

  André sent a nod in her direction, acknowledging her presence before disappearing around the corner.

  “André?” Anna asked, stepping into the diaper aisle and approaching him.

  “What?” He didn’t look at her.

  “I have no idea what got into me the last few times I saw you but I wanted to apologize.” She studied the pattern in the floor as she spoke.

  “Apology accepted,” André answered. He plucked a package of diapers off the shelf and slid by her.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked without turning.

  André stopped and sighed. “No. I didn’t mean what I said in the locker room,” he answered without her asking the question. He glanced back. “I cared, but I wasn’t in love with you, Anna.” He took the diapers to the checkout, paid, and left without another word. Katrina was right; he would have never forgiven himself if he had killed her.

  He arrived back at the beach a few minutes later. “Ready to go?”

  Katrina nodded and put Sam back in the stroller. She smiled and waved at her friends as she headed back home with André. “It’s all gone.” She grinned when they were halfway down the block.

  “I know,” André answered. “But not with you, I hope.” He glanced sideways.

  Katrina smiled back at him. “I don’t think it’ll ever be gone with me.”

  “Good,” André replied as they rounded onto the driveway of the house.

  Linda came out on the front porch. “André, your father’s been looking for you.”

  “Why?” André asked.

  “I don’t know, but he wants you at the office as soon as possible.”

  André nodded, assuming his father wanted to talk about the mission. He ran upstairs and changed back into more appropriate clothing and Katrina dropped him off at the base, collecting a kiss before heading back home.

  He headed straight to his father’s office, catching Georgia’s eye as he walked by. A small, embarrassed smile appeared on her lips for a moment before André looked away. He slipped into his father’s office. “You called?” he asked, startling Matthew.

  “I didn’t hear you coming,” Matthew replied, looking up. “What the hell happened to your eye?”

  “It’s apparently gone,” he said in reference to his father’s unspoken commentary about the lack of the female office staff’s lewd thoughts and completely ignored his question.

  “How?”

  André shrugged. “Not quite sure,” he lied, but he came to the same conclusion as Katrina. Sleeping with his wife had somehow stopped the vibe from affecting the remainder of the female population. “So why did you want me back in the office?” André slid into the seat.

  “The president is on his way,” Matthew answered. “He wants to hold a press conference about you.”

  André raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “President Foster wants America to know exactly who is saving us. He wants to give them a hero, someone to believe in.”

  “I’m not a hero, Dad,” André answered. “I’m saving my ass, too.”

  Matthew chuckled. “Yes, but the president is going to make you one whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” André said.

  “You don’t have a choice, son. When we step out into the press room in a couple hours, you are going to become the most talked about person on the planet.”

  André leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. “Why do I have to be there?”

  “Because, I want the public to know you aren’t a threat,” he said. “Otherwise, our family’s safety could be in jeopardy.”

  André sat up straight in the chair. “Why would our family be in jeopardy?”

  Matthew sighed. “Sometimes you can be so naïve.”

  André slowly sank back into the chair. “You’re talking about Zyclon all over again, aren’t you?”

  “No, not like what happened to you as a child. You will become more like a celebrity than an outcast, but there are still nutcases out there who will view you as a threat no matter how we spin this. There will be fewer issues if you are seen and heard than if we keep you hidden.”

  André looked out the window at the sky. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to let this out before we deal with the meteor?” He nodded toward the window.

  “You told me you could move the meteor, and I believe you,” Matthew replied.

  President Foster walked in the room unannounced. “Are we about ready?”

  André shook his head without turning. “No I’m not.” He stood up, turning toward the president. “I’d rather wait.”

  The president studied him and André looked down at his hands. He didn’t want to be categorized as a freak again, not here.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not comfortable with the attention.”

  “Son, you’re the star quarterback on your high school football team. This will be easy in comparison. Trust me.” President Foster smiled. “Besides the press is already set up.”

  President Foster led the procession to the podium. André squinted into the bright camera lights and cringed at the roar their entry spawned. The room quieted down to a low murmur and he swallowed the bundle of nerves caught in his throat.

  Relax, Matthew told his son without glancing in his direction.

  This is a really bad idea, André thought and surveyed the crowd, forcing himself to stand still like his father.

  “Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming on such short notice,” President Foster said. “In the last few hours, I’ve been briefed on a new situation that I am compelled to report to the American public.” He paused, glancing back at André and Matthew. “The astronomers at the Houston observatory advised the government that a meteor, larger than the one that caused the eastern hemisphere to flood, is on a direct collision course with Earth. By their calculation, this rock will hit somewhere in the north Atlantic in ten days.” He paused and glanced across the quiet room.

  Faces peered at the president, some with jaws hanging in shock, some with their hands over their mouths in an attempt to keep their horror in check and others, with wide, teary eyes.

  The silence thickened before the president continued, “However, we believe we can change the course of this meteor.”

  It took the matter of a blink for the room to go wild. Reporters jumped to their feet and fired questions in rapid succession.

  President Foster raised his palms and waited for the quiet to settle once again. “As I was saying, we believe we can prevent this disaster from occurring,” he said and sent a glance in Matthew and André’s direction.

  André remembered what his father told him the first time he encountered the press. They were a bunch of filthy vultures and right at this moment, they scared the daylights out of him. He offered a ha
lfhearted smile and shot a sideways glance at Matthew.

  The president let the information he just shared with the press settle. He glanced back at Matthew and nodded, stepping to the side so they could approach the podium.

  Matthew stepped forward, leaving André along the wall near the door.

  The questions from the press box began to fly all at once, and Matthew held his hand up, waiting for the silence.

  “What’s the plan?” one of the reporters in the back called out as the room settled.

  “The plan is a little unorthodox…”

  A frazzled sergeant stepped onto the stage, interrupting Matthew. He hurried to the podium and slipped Matthew a piece of paper.

  Gleaning the thoughts of the sergeant, André almost choked, and the slow crawl of panic started in his stomach, echoing outward like a sound wave until it penetrated every cell in his body, freezing him in place.

  Matthew looked at the paper and back at the sergeant. He sent a glance in André’s direction and then addressed the crowd. “You will have to excuse me for a moment.”

  He slipped offstage, leaving André alone with the president to fend off the press.

  André stared at the chaos before him; questions shot out left and right and the president stepped to the podium. “As Commander Robbins stated, the plan is a bit unorthodox; however, if you quiet down, I will do my best to explain,” he said.

  The room immediately calmed. Reporters took their chairs and waited.

  Of all the thoughts swirling in the president’s head, André would have never guessed the one the president chose to lead with and when the words escaped the president’s lips, André wanted to disappear, to sink into the backdrop and back into obscurity.

  “How many of you remember the false reports of an alien in our solar system?”

  Almost all hands rose in response.

  The president looked in André’s direction. “Those reports were not false.”

  Pandemonium broke out on the floor and everyone in the press box jumped to his or her feet.

  André felt the heat bloom in his cheeks as a few press core gazes landed on him.

  “What does that have to do with the meteor?” one reporter shouted over the rest.

  “It seems that alien child has certain…gifts. Gifts such as telekinesis, and he has offered to push the meteor off course so it doesn’t collide with Earth.”

  Silence fell on the room and the president turned, waving toward André. “Ladies and gentlemen, André Robbins.”

  The room erupted. Questions flew like a hailstorm pounding the domes. André stared, unable to move or speak in the frenzy.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the president bellowed, “one question at a time.” He pointed to a female reporter with the Chicago Tribune. “Grace.”

  “How old are you?” she asked André.

  “Seventeen,” André answered, surprised at the strength in his voice.

  “Ted.” The president pointed to another reporter.

  “Why are you here?” Ted asked.

  André didn’t know how to answer that question. “Luck, I guess.” He wished his father was in the room to fend off the attack.

  The room exploded into questions again.

  “I will end this press conference if you continue to assault this child with questions all at once!” The president stepped in again and the room quieted down. Every reporter had their hands raised, waiting for their turn like an attentive class trying to impress the teacher.

  “Why did you leave your planet?” the reporter from the Denver Post asked.

  “I, uh...” André stumbled. “I, uh, I was exiled.”

  Low murmurs spread through the room, but the crowd behaved by the rules the president set forth.

  “Why?” another reporter called out before the president could pick the next reporter.

  “Because I was different,” he said and shifted from foot to foot, his palms clammy, and his stomach fluttering worse than Katrina with morning sickness. “That’s why they hunted me down, killed my parents and sent me into space to die.”

  Silence slammed down on the room as loud as a judge’s gavel, leaving only the buzzing of the equipment.

  André looked into the camera, certain his eyes reflected the fear coursing through his entire being. Without another word, he fled the room.

  16

  André walked into his father’s office.

  “We intercepted a transmission, André,” Matthew said with an earpiece still plastered to the side of his head, listening.

  “What kind of transmission?”

  Matthew took a deep breath. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It came from behind the meteor and I’d like you to listen to it to confirm the origin.”

  André nodded; Matthew pressed a few commands on the computer screen and the voice filled the office. Four seemingly innocent words with a slight variation in inflection and pronunciation but not that far off from Earth’s language: “Life in dis sector.”

  Four words spoken by a voice André would never forget.

  A voice responsible for carrying out all manner of horrors. André’s face and hands went cold with recognition. He shivered. “It’s Zyclonian.”

  Matthew studied him and André shifted in the seat under his father’s stark gaze. He shut down his mind, closing it off, keeping his thoughts under quarantine. “If they find out...” He closed his mouth and glanced at his father. If they find out I’m alive, the meteor will be the least of our worries.

  “It’s been over ten years since you were exiled,” Matthew said, standing and walking around the desk to face his son. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  “Did you see the press conference?” André pointed to the screen on the wall, still broadcasting.

  Matthew shook his head. “No. Why?”

  “The president announced I’m an alien.”

  Matthew’s eyebrows rose.

  “And they are out there.” He pointed toward the window, the slow burn of panic lacing his skin. “Satellite feed, Dad. If they know I’m alive, they will come to destroy me.”

  Matthew’s phone squawked and he pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

  “Sir, we intercepted another transmission from the alien craft,” the voice notified Commander Robbins.

  Matthew looked at André. “What did it say?”

  “André lives.”

  17

  “He can’t go with us,” André said, nodding toward the president. “It’s too dangerous now.”

  The president stared at André. “I’ve been in dangerous situations before.”

  “But not with someone who can kill you without even seeing you, sir,” André said, “and I’m not so sure I can protect you from that.”

  “You can move a sixty thousand ton rock but you can’t protect us from another person?” the president asked.

  André shrugged. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know how strong an adult Zyclonian is. All I know is I couldn’t stop them from killing my parents when I was six. I think I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I was then, but I really have no reference point, sir, and I’d prefer not to put your life in jeopardy.” He looked between the president and his father. “Or yours either,” he said to Matthew.

  “You’ve got no choice, son,” Matthew answered. “There’s no way I’m letting you go up there alone.”

  President Foster nodded and turned his attention back to André. “I’m going up there with you and your father,” he said and looked at his watch. “And we are leaving in less than an hour.”

  André’s jaw fell. He glanced at his father and received a nod, confirming the decision. “With all due respect, sir, I do not want you up there.”

  “André, the president and I can take care of ourselves,” Matthew said.

  André clenched his fists and glared at the two of them. “Really?” He exercised a fraction of his strength, slamming them both back against the
far wall and cutting off their airway with a slight tilt of his head. “For me, this is the equivalent of a five-yard toss,” he said, putting a reference point on his effort. He counted to ten; just about the time their eyes started to bulge from the lack of oxygen, he released them, watching as they crumpled to the ground. “That’s nothing compared to what could happen up there.”

  Matthew stood and stared at his son, the shock written in his expression, and he turned to the president. “Mitch, maybe you ought to stay here,” he said.

  The president’s breath still wheezed but he stood and straightened himself out before answering Matthew. “I am going,” he said, dismissing any argument and stared André down.

  André broke eye contact first. “Y’all’re nuts,” he drawled looking back at his father and the president. He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath, shaking his head. “You better bring Captain Grey.”

  “Who the hell is Captain Grey?” the president asked.

  “He’s a medical officer and he knows about André,” Matthew answered. He walked over to the phone and picked it up, summoning Cal to his office.

  “Let’s go get our asses fried in space,” André snapped and turned away. Figures. I’ll probably die up there. That’s exactly what they wanted anyway. He stared at the sky through the window.

  “Mitch, will you excuse us for a moment?”

  President Foster nodded and slipped into the outer office.

  “André, you can’t go up with that attitude,” Matthew said.

  “Now or later, what’s the difference? I’ve basically sealed the fate of this planet.” He looked back at his father.

  “You don’t know that,” Matthew said and crossed the room. He put his hand on André’s shoulder.

  “The son of a bitch up there knows I’m here.” He glanced at the sky again. “He told them I’m alive and he knows I’m coming after him,” André whispered. “Please convince the president not to come with us. I can’t protect both of you.”

  A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation.