Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “Okay,” Matthew said, and opened the air lock.

  Cal disappeared into the loading bay and returned a few minutes later with a collection bag holding a little under a half pint of frigid blood and gave Matthew a nod. “It’s close enough to André’s.”

  Matthew closed the air lock and depressurized the loading dock, allowing the temperature to drop and freeze dry the corpse just in case they needed more. He put the ship into overdrive and sped toward home. He spared a quick look, in time to capture Cal setting up the transfusion line.

  “How much longer?” Cal asked.

  “An hour. I’m pushing the limit on this thing,” he said, pulling his attention away from André and concentrating on getting them home. He maneuvered the ship through space at a speed he never dared before and it took every ounce of focus to reach their destination in one piece. Earth sped toward him and true to his word, an hour later they skidded to a stop at the outer base bay.

  “Tell me my son is okay,” he said as he drove the ship through the doors and into the hangar. Red strobe lights of the ambulance reflected in the otherwise dark hangar and Matthew was thankful they returned much earlier than expected and there would be no added complications of getting André the help he needed.

  “I don’t know if he is, sir,” Cal said, looking down at the unconscious boy. “He stopped shaking about twenty minutes ago, but his pulse is still all over the place.”

  The doors to the ship opened and medics converged. Matthew ordered the body in the back of the ship cryogenically preserved and tagged as an organ donor for André and trusted they adhered to his directive. He didn’t wait to oversee the collection; instead, he climbed into the waiting ambulance, wincing with every motion, the pain wracking every nerve now that the adrenaline had died.

  “You need to be checked out when we get there,” Cal said.

  He nodded and dug his phone out of his pocket, calling the house. “Hi, Linda,” he said, exhaustion lacing his voice and he cleared his throat. “There’s been…” He traded a glance with Cal. “There’s been an accident and André’s hurt.”

  “What?” Linda’s voice carried the disbelief he expected.

  “André is seriously wounded,” he said and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Voicing the words brought burning tears of fear to his eyes and he squeezed them back. “We’re on our way to St. Vincent’s. Bring Katrina.”

  He disconnected the call and took a calming breath, pushing away the fear of losing André and concentrating on his earlier feat. Meeting Cal’s gaze, he finally voiced his awe. “He vaporized that meteor.”

  “Yeah. And he saved both our lives.”

  Please, God, don’t let my son die. Matthew offered a silent prayer, hoping the Lord would spare him this kind of pain.

  “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen, Commander,” Cal said.

  Matthew nodded, blocking the thought from his mind.

  “Matthew, I got him. You need an x-ray,” Cal said as they climbed out of the ambulance. He gave a nod to an orderly, who escorted Matthew away.

  Cal gave the rundown to the emergency room doctor as they wheeled André into a private triage room. He worked side by side with the doctor to clean and cauterize all the wounds, including inspecting the laser patch job he did in space.

  “You saved this boy’s life,” Dr. Schwartz stated as he inspected the artery. “Nice job.”

  “Thanks, but he isn’t out of the woods yet,” Cal said, checking the readout on the machines.

  The doctor glanced over his shoulder at the numbers. “Those can’t be right,” he said.

  Cal glanced over his shoulder. “They are.”

  “But his heart rate…”

  Cal glanced at the register, the sporadic and slow beat unlike any healthy human. It resembled the beginning of a cardiac arrest and the doctor flipped on the defibrillator.

  “Dr. Schwartz, that is not necessary.” Cal reached over and turned off the machine. “He isn’t in cardiac arrest.”

  “But the readout?”

  “If he was human, I would agree, but he’s not and I’ve seen this before,” Cal said, praying he was right. He didn’t know what an electric shock would do to André, and the kid had slipped into what looked like a coma.

  The doctor blinked and stepped back as if André were a ticking bomb and his eyes widened. “That’s the alien from the president’s press conference?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he—”

  “Yes, he stopped the meteor,” Cal answered before the doctor finished his question. “And now that he’s stabilized, I’d like him moved to the intensive care unit and kept under observation while I talk with his family.”

  Dr. Schwartz nodded.

  “If anything changes, please page me,” Cal said, writing his pager number on the chart. “And please make sure a security detail is put in place. I don’t want the press to get wind that we are here.”

  Dr. Schwartz deflated a bit but he nodded and Cal gave him a quiet glare.

  “Consider this part of doctor-patient confidentiality. If you leak any of this to the press, I’ll make sure the only job you can get is wiping babies’ butts in the local shelter medical unit.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dr. Schwartz said and wheeled André toward the ICU.

  Cal stripped his gloves and threw them in the trash before heading to the emergency waiting room in search of Matthew’s family. He stopped at the registration counter. “Excuse me, can you tell me where Commander Robbins is?”

  “He’s still in the x-ray department,” the nurse said.

  Cal nodded and entered the waiting room, peeling off his surgical hat. “Mrs. Robbins?”

  Both women looked at Cal.

  The concern in Cal’s eyes, along with his flurry of thought, sent Katrina’s heart racing. Panic tried to steal her voice, but she pressed through it and asked, “Is André all right?” Despite her best efforts, tears clouded her vision.

  Cal pulled up a chair. “He’s in a coma,” he said, keeping eye contact with Katrina. “He sustained trauma to his shoulder, leg, and abdomen. He has several bruises on his back and neck, but thankfully nothing is broken.” He offered a hint of a smile. “He also went without oxygen for a few minutes and that’s what we believe precipitated the coma.” He glanced at the sleeping baby in the carrier in front of Katrina. “The bright spot is that he still has brain activity and is breathing on his own.” He raised his gaze back to hers.

  Katrina blinked and hot tears cut paths down her cheek. “Coma? André’s in a coma?”

  Cal nodded.

  “How?” she started, and then her eyes widened. The question brought a stream of memories from Cal, walking her through the horror.

  “Y’all knew there was a Zyclonian explorer behind the meteor and you still went up there?” Katrina said, her voice shaking with the anger that flared.

  Cal tilted his head and his eyebrows scrunched together. “I, uh...”

  Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “Dad asked him to erase your memories?”

  Cal shut his mouth, the crease between his eyes smoothing out and his eyes widening as well. “I guess he did.”

  “Then why the hell do you remember it?”

  He shrugged. “I got knocked around a bit too.”

  Her anger diffused, replaced by panic, and she held her fiery response at bay. She couldn’t lose André, not now, not when their son was so young. “When can I see him?” Her voice cracked under the stress rattling through her.

  “Right now if you’d like,” he replied.

  Linda cleared her throat, capturing their attention; her face was pale and her eyes peered out from dark circles of worry. “Where’s Matthew?”

  “In the x-ray department. He was banged up a bit too,” Cal said, leading them into the hallway.

  Katrina stared at the matted mess at the back of Cal’s head.

  “Did anyone check you out?” Linda asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “You
have blood on the back of your head,” Katrina said.

  Cal reached up and touched his hair. He pulled his hand away and looked at the tacky blood on his fingers. “Huh, look at that.”

  Matthew glanced up from the x-ray table when Cal entered the room. He slipped his shirt on with a wince, pain still flaring even with the elasticized belt strapped around his midsection. “Six cracked ribs,” Matthew said. “How’s André?”

  “Coma,” Cal said.

  Matthew hung his head. “I should have never taken him up there.”

  “Commander, he’s breathing on his own and still has brain activity,” Cal said. “So stop kicking yourself. He wouldn’t want that.”

  Matthew inhaled and held the deep breath, waiting for the sharp stab to dissipate before exhaling slowly. “Cal, I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving my life and André’s.”

  “It’s my job, sir.”

  Matthew nodded. “Well this was above and beyond and I think that warrants a promotion,” he said and stood. “Colonel.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Cal replied with a humble smile. He led Matthew to André’s room.

  When Matthew stepped in the room, Katrina sat holding André’s hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked while Linda rocked with Sam in the corner, humming in the baby’s ear. Her gaze met Matthew’s, conveying the level of concern in her heart. “Hi,” she said, standing and crossing the room to kiss his cheek.

  “Hi, hon,” he replied.

  “What happened?” Linda asked.

  “André took care of the meteor and then we were ambushed by a Zyclonian space ship,” he said and glanced toward the bed. “If I had known the son of a bitch was out there, I would have never gone near the ship,” he said, looking at his son.

  “You knew that bastard was up there.” Katrina turned on Matthew. “You knew he was behind the meteor, and you knew he wanted to hurt André.”

  Her words hit harder than the Zyclonian’s fist and Matthew inhaled, feeling the sting in his ribs. “There’s no way—”

  “Take a look at Cal’s memories,” she said, cutting off his rebuke and pointing toward Cal.

  He swung his gaze to Cal. His mind was open and the events of the last twelve hours transmitted in a matter of seconds, giving Matthew a full account of conversations that seemed to be non-existent in his own mind. “I ordered him to wipe out our memories?”

  “Yes. You did it to protect us, sir. You believed we wouldn’t get the chance to address the meteor if the alien knew we were aware of his presence. In light of what happened, I’d have to say that was a smart move.”

  Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Why can you remember and I still draw a complete blank?”

  Cal touched the back of his head. “I guess the bang on my head must have jarred the memories back.”

  “Jesus,” he whispered and turned his gaze to the hospital bed.

  Katrina glanced at all of them. “I’d like to be alone with my husband, if you don’t mind,” she said, tears shimmering on her cheeks. “Please.”

  They shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind them. Matthew took a seat on the bench in the hallway and put his head in his hands. “What kind of father am I?”

  “You are a good father,” Linda said, taking the seat next to him with Sam on her shoulder.

  Yeah, right. I walked him right into the devil’s lair.

  Katrina put her head on André’s stomach and sobbed. “If you don’t come back to me, I’ll kick your ass worse than that alien son of a bitch did,” she said, sitting up and sniffling. “You hear me?”

  The edges of André’s lips twitched into a smile. “You gonna spank me or what?” he croaked. His eyes fluttered open and his vision slowly came into focus on Katrina’s face. He went to lift his arm to touch her cheek and the pain in his shoulder made his vision double and his hand dropped back on the mattress. “Ouch.” The blackness threatened again.

  “Stay with me, André.”

  The panic in her voice helped him focus instead of allowing himself to drift back into the cloud of oblivion. He shifted and pain seared through his entire body. “I hurt like hell.”

  Katrina smiled a little and her eyes dropped to his neck. Without warning, the tears began to flow again.

  “Don’t,” he said and gritted his teeth, lifting his hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks. The effort pushed him beyond his current limit, exhausting him.

  “You came back to me.”

  He nodded, dropping his hand. “I always will.” He stared at her and then turned his attention to the hospital room, scanning the machines and intravenous drip before bringing his gaze back to her. “I knew him, Kat.” He closed his eyes against the red sheen now covering his vision. “It was the son of a bitch who killed my parents and sealed me in the spaceship.” He paused and squeezed his eyes tighter, denying his tears a chance to escape. “I wanted to kill him with my own hands. I wanted to feel his bones break under my fist.” His voice cracked under the flurry of emotions slamming into him. Fear, anger, sorrow, regret all combined and he opened his eyes, staring into her teary green gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” Katrina asked, wiping her face.

  “Because it was selfish and almost got us all killed,” he said. “I should have just taken him out when I walked into his ship.”

  “I’m not sure you had the strength when you first walked in, André,” Cal said from the doorway. “I think you needed that level of fury to do what you did.” He walked into the room, followed by Matthew.

  André turned toward the door, wincing at the pain the movement caused. “What I did was stupid.”

  “Maybe,” Matthew said and crossed to the bed. “But not as stupid as allowing you to go up into space that far, knowing he was there. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.”

  André stared at him. “I knew the risks,” he said and scanned his father’s mind. His memories still had the blank spot. “How did you find out?”

  Matthew’s gaze drifted to Cal and back. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay. For a little while there, we weren’t sure and that scared the daylights out of me,” he said and messed up André’s hair. A grimace of pain flashed and he dropped his arm to his side.

  “Your ribs are broken?” André asked.

  Matthew nodded. “I’ll live. I have to wear this thing a few hours a day.” He pulled up his shirt, showing André the elastic wrap. “And my shoulder will take awhile to heal, but considering the alternative…” He shrugged.

  André lifted his right arm and looked at his hand, flexing it. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, but it didn’t hurt the way the rest of his body did. “At least my throwing arm is okay,” he said.

  Matthew and Cal laughed.

  “You aren’t going to play football for a while,” Cal said.

  “You have to be kidding me! Practice starts in two weeks.”

  “Your thigh was sliced open to the bone,” Cal replied. “That alone is going to take at least a month to heal properly.”

  “A month?” André balked.

  “André, I almost lost you on the way back,” Cal snapped. “You almost died. So taking a month to let your body heal is not the end of the world.”

  “They will just have to play without you the first couple of games,” Katrina added.

  André didn’t speak, but the disappointment was enough to force a sigh from his chest and he nodded assent. He glanced at Katrina. “Where’s my son?”

  “Your mom has him in the hall,” Matthew answered.

  “Can I see him?” he asked.

  Matthew opened the door and waved Linda into the room.

  “Thank God,” Linda said, handing the baby to Cal and coming to the side of the bed. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “You are not allowed to scare me like that,” she scolded and gently put her hands on André’s face. “Understand?”

  “I’m okay,
Mom,” André said and tried on a smile but from the sadness in her eyes, he was sure it was more of a grimace than a smile and he sighed, covering her hand with his good one and giving it a little squeeze. Sometimes he didn’t need words with her and this was one of those times.

  Linda patted his cheek. “I can see that.” She blinked the tears back and glanced around the room.

  Cal smiled down at the baby in his arms before he raised his eyes. “You have a beautiful son.”

  André found the controls for the bed and raised the back so he was in a sitting position. The only visible sign of pain he allowed was the tightening of his jaw. “Bring him over here,” he said and reached his arm out. He didn’t care how much it hurt; he wanted to hold his son.

  Cal brought the sleeping baby to André’s side and put him on André’s chest so Sam’s head was resting on André’s right shoulder. He stepped away as André wrapped his arm around his son.

  “Thanks, Cal,” André said. He kissed Sam’s cheek. The sweet clean baby smell emanating from his son brought a lump to André’s throat and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the pillow. Tears of gratitude stung his throat; he didn’t dare open his eyes because this was the type of moment that crumbled into reality and he was sure if he opened his eyes, he’d still be in that god-awful death pod.

  Katrina’s hand caressed his cheek, breaking the spell, and he nuzzled against her warm skin. Hot tears squeezed from the corner of his eyes, sliding a warm path down his cheeks and the soft fabric of tissue wiped the tears from his cheeks.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to no one in particular.

  18

  André came home from the hospital three days later in a wheelchair. A sea of paparazzi greeted him with flashing cameras and microphones jammed in his face.

  Matthew pushed him through the crowd to the front steps, where he stopped. “Shit,” he mumbled. He hadn’t thought about how he was going to get André up the stairs and onto the porch.