Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “I’m not bringing Sam into this. He’s too young.”

  “He’s almost the age that André and I were when we got married.”

  Matthew laughed. “You know that doesn’t mean much, Kat. You two were way too young to be married. I’m amazed you made it through the growing pains those first couple of years.”

  Katrina joined him, laughing. Their senior year in high school was the hardest time of their marriage, living on their own with Sam and fighting constantly about money, about their future, about football and jobs and whose turn it was to watch the baby. It still amazed her that they got through it without killing each other. “If you had told me then we would still be happily married fifteen years later, I would have laughed at you.”

  Matthew smiled and focused back in front of him, his smile fading at the sight of the outer base and what lay ahead. “André warned us; I just didn’t believe it would ever happen.” He gripped the wheel. “Fifteen years.” He shook his head. “It took them fifteen years to get here.”

  “You didn’t know,” Katrina said.

  “But he did,” Matthew answered, closing his eyes. “André knew.” He rubbed his face and doubt rattled in his thoughts.

  “Dad, you can’t do this now,” Katrina said, capturing his attention. “They need their commander, not André’s father.” She pointed toward the building, referring to the team waiting for them.

  Matthew nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They walked into the launch bay and their conversation died. Zyclonian warriors surrounded them, blocking their exit. The remaining Armed Forces personnel knelt in the center with their arms pinned behind their backs by invisible restraints.

  “Commander Robbins, I presume?” A voice broke the silence.

  Matthew turned toward the voice. He thought André was tall at six-five, but this man had him beat. He had to be over seven feet tall and was built like a bulldozer. He wore a uniform decorated with similar medals and sashes as his own. He looked into the red eyes of the Zyclonian intruder. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I am the emperor of Zyclon,” he answered. “And I believe you have something I want.”

  “What would that be?” Matthew asked, his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline drying the saliva from his mouth. He hadn’t even felt their presence when they approached the building. God help them, these bastards had the ability to cloak themselves, to appear as vapor to the senses.

  “The lost Zyclonian.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Matthew said.

  The emperor looked over at the line of soldiers.

  The closest officer screamed, his hands flying to his temples; seconds later, the scream cut off as the soldier’s head exploded. The body flopped on the floor, headless.

  Matthew’s eyes widened, registering a fraction of the shock gripping his muscles.

  “He’s not here,” one of the men shouted from the back of the group.

  Matthew’s jaw tightened. Shut up. He sent the thought to all the men kneeling and felt his knees buckling beneath him. A powerful force lowered both he and Katrina to their knees, and he turned toward the source.

  The emperor tilted his head and smiled before turning toward the man who spoke. “Tell me.”

  “Sergeant Murphy, keep your mouth shut,” Matthew ordered.

  “I can inflict the most interesting types of pain without even touching you,” the emperor said to Sergeant Murphy.

  Sergeant Murphy’s hand flew toward his face, but it didn’t make it in time. A scream peeled from the sergeant’s throat and his eye burst into a bloody mess, leaving a vacant hole in his face. His good eye stared at the emperor, wide with the pain and horror of what just happened.

  “Tell me,” the emperor said again.

  Sergeant Murphy’s good eye shot to Matthew and back to the psychotic intruder in front of him. “He, uh, he led the advance team. They left about a half hour before you arrived.” His whole body shook. Sergeant Murphy never felt the invisible knife that ended his life. His head rolled on the concrete tarp as his body fell backwards.

  The emperor switched on the screen. “We tracked and intercepted them.” He headed in Matthew and Katrina’s direction.

  Matthew watched the massacre of the advance team, his heart breaking when André’s craft turned into a ball of fire, plunging into the Caribbean Sea just east of Houston. Hope evaporated, replaced by a fury so engrossing that he roared and struggled to his feet, rebelling against the invisible hand pushing against him. He let the anger grow, his teeth gnashing together in concentration as he stared at the emperor, wishing him dead.

  The emperor’s laugh echoed against the hangar walls.

  Matthew ignored Katrina’s whimpering sobs and growled, “That was my son.” Power escaped, aimed at the emperor.

  Knocked back a couple steps from the invisible shove, the emperor’s laughter stopped and his eyebrow rose in Matthew’s direction.

  The blow hit Matthew in the center of his chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying into the wall at the far side of the hangar. Pain flared in his head, and then the blackness sucked him under.

  Katrina sobbed, her devastation paralyzing her in place. André! Dear God, please not my André. Her mind repeated the thought like a broken computer loop.

  The emperor walked over and crouched in front of her. “You said his name,” he said, tilting her chin up.

  “Fuck you!” she managed to spurt between sobs, jerking her chin from his grip.

  “Perhaps,” he said and smiled, letting his gaze flow over the front of her uniform.

  She shuddered. “Never,” she growled, letting anger replace the emptiness at the center of her soul.

  The emperor ran his finger down the front of her uniform and the buttons unclasped in the advance wake of his approaching fingertips.

  “Don’t touch her!” one of the officers yelled, gaining the attention of the emperor.

  “Why not?”

  “She’s André’s wife,” Officer Jones said between clenched teeth. Seconds later, he fell to the floor, his body convulsing on the concrete and blood spurting from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. At last, he laid still, no breath, no sound—just silent trails of blood flowing from his dead form.

  The emperor turned his attention back to Katrina. “André’s wife.” He smiled and grabbed her by the hair.

  The pain in her scalp overrode her anger for a moment and she scrambled to her feet even as he pulled her up, her hands locking around his wrist, willing the pain to dull and it did. But with the dulled sensation, the bitter anger returned, scraping her tongue with the sour taste. She swallowed and glared at the emperor.

  His grip on her hair loosened and he studied the consistency of her blonde locks before returning his red-eyed gaze back to hers. He swept her shirt open, staring at the black lace bra with interest.

  “Don’t touch her!”

  The emperor turned his head toward the soldiers and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

  Katrina felt the death of each soldier as they fell to the ground and with each one, a little piece of her sanity shattered. They were doomed and she shut her mind off, not allowing her thoughts to drift to Sam. Maybe he could survive, if she didn’t slip up and let this bastard know he existed.

  Maybe.

  His gaze landed back on her, driving all thoughts into a black hole of despair.

  A sadistic smile graced his lips. “André’s wife.” His eyes narrowed and he again swept her shirt aside, running his fingertips from her lips down her neck, approaching the crest of her cleavage.

  “Get away from me.” His touch was like a hundred spiders slithering over her skin and she shuddered, revolted, but she couldn’t break the invisible grip.

  The sound of ripping fabric filled the hangar and Katrina gasped as her camouflage drifted in shredded tatters to the floor, leaving her standing in black lace panties and matching bra with her army boots. The hunger etched in the empe
ror’s face struck terror in her, heightening her powers and she broke the spell holding her in place and took a step back.

  The emperor licked his lips and said the words again, but this time, they were laced with disgust and hatred. “André’s wife.”

  She tried to take another step away but the grip tightened, pulling her forward instead. His hand shot out, the back of his knuckles connecting with her cheek and dropping her to the ground at his feet. Pain bloomed like a hot iron branding her skin and she blinked back the blinding flickering haze in front of her eyes, refocusing on the bastard before her.

  Acute agony assaulted her head, his mind scan prodding but she held the wall to her memories intact. She cried out, the paralyzing sting reminding her of when André broke her psychic barrier.

  The emperor smiled. “You will give me what I want.”

  “No,” she said between clenched teeth, keeping him from controlling her mind. The sudden exit of his influence left her muscles rubbery and weak, and she collapsed onto her side, the cool floor welcoming in comparison to the hostile enemy standing over her.

  The emperor crossed his arms, gnawing on his bottom lip in a familiar habit she had seen André do a thousand times when he contemplated what to do next. For the first time since they walked through the door, she really looked at the emperor, blinking back tears of shock at the similarities between this psycho and her husband. She glanced at the other Zyclonians guarding the entrance, waiting for their next command. None of them had the same features. Different shapes and sizes, just like humans. But this man, this monarch, he could have been André’s father.

  The emperor’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t sire that abomination.”

  Katrina clamped down on her mind again, shaken that the emperor had read her train of thought. “André’s going to kill you.”

  “If he survived, all the better. I’ll finally have his head mounted on a trophy plaque over my mantel. But before I kill him, I want him to watch you and his ‘father’ die.” He made quotation marks with his fingers as he said the word father along with a distasteful smirk. He turned and nodded at his men. They converged on Katrina and Matthew pulling them to their feet and escorting them into one of the Zyclonian fighters. The emperor took a seat facing the two of them. “The world is going to watch you die on live television.”

  24

  André pulled Cal onto the shore. “You okay?”

  Cal nodded. “Just having a bitch of a time breathing,” he said.

  “Slow your metabolism down,” André said as he looked around for anything that had survived the Zyclonian attack and his counterattack. “We have to get back to the base before it’s too late.” He put his hand out to help Cal up.

  Cal accepted his hand and stood beside him. “How?”

  André sighed. “I don’t know.” He looked back at the ocean. “I don’t think there’s anything left.” He looked inland. “There are a few trails that way.” He pointed to a couple distant plumes of black smoke. “Think you can make it?” he asked.

  Cal nodded and they began walking.

  “Thanks,” Cal said after a couple of miles.

  “For what?” André asked, keeping his eye on the target ahead.

  “For saving my ass.”

  André shrugged. “You were lucky enough to be in the jet with me.” He glanced over at his friend. “I wasn’t able to save anyone else.” He blinked back the red film covering his eyes, the weight of the words slamming into his chest hard enough to stop the breath in his throat. He stopped, closing his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He’d be no good to Katrina and his father if he died out here in the desert. When he opened his eyes, he scanned the horizon, his eyes homing in on a hunk of metal. “What the hell is that?”

  Cal cocked his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “What is it?”

  “It looks like one of those antique solar trucks.”

  André didn’t understand. He looked between the vehicle and Cal. “What does it do?”

  Cal ignored André and jogged over to the vehicle, opening the door.

  André followed, skirting around to the other side of the cab and opening the passenger door. The smell that wafted out of the cab made him gag. In the back seat lay an old human skeleton lying on some blankets that had been infested and long deserted by all manners of creatures.

  “This is an antique.” Cal ran his hands over the big round wheel in front of him and dropped his gaze to the push pad on the dash. “We’re in luck. Hop in.” His breath wheezed and he smiled.

  André saw the light of possibilities in his friend’s eyes and the excitement rattling his heart. “Easy, Cal, you have to conserve oxygen.”

  Cal nodded and closed his eyes, gathering his wits and doing as André said. When he opened his eyes, they focused on the gearshift. “This could get us there if it still works.” He reached for the pad and pushed. The truck lurched forward. “No way,” he said, looking at André.

  “Do you know how to work this thing?”

  Cal studied the gears and the pedals. “I drove one once when I was in high school. They had it at a fair in Kansas.” He pushed the clutch in with his left foot and turned the ignition. The truck made a screaming noise as the gears that hadn’t moved in two hundred years were asked to move. “Shit.”

  André opened the glove compartment and pulled out the manual. He flipped through it quickly and then put his hands on the dash. “Try again,” he said and closed his eyes, concentrating on what he read, breathing his power into this behemoth of a vehicle.

  The engine turned over and Cal let out a whoop.

  “Hang on,” André said, jumping out of the cab. He looked at the pin holding the cab to the rusted-out trailer and pulled, releasing the cab and making it lighter for travel. He jumped back in the passenger seat, smiling. “Do whatever you do to make this thing move.”

  Cal shifted into first gear, released the clutch and pushed the gas pedal. The cab rumbled forward. “I don’t know how far we’ll get,” he said, as he shifted the gears. The engine screamed again, but kept going. Cal looked at the instruments. “At least there seems to be a charge.” He tapped the solar charge indicator to make sure. The needle stayed put, showing the vehicle had half of its battery life. Cal got through the ten gears and had the vehicle flying down the road at a lumbering hundred miles an hour.

  “Can’t this thing go any faster?” André asked.

  “To be honest, I didn’t think it would go faster than fifty. It had to have been sitting there for a couple centuries.” He glanced at André. “It’s a miracle it’s moving, never mind going close to a hundred miles an hour.”

  “Just drive,” André said, closing his eyes and concentrating as he gripped the door handle. His breath came in the same shallow rasps as Cal’s, his lungs burning from exertion and lack of oxygen. He lowered his head and the engine revved, pushing the truck faster. He opened his eyes, watching as the needle on the speedometer buried itself beyond the one hundred and sixty mark.

  “Don’t use all your strength, André,” Cal said, taking a quick glance in his direction. “You’ll need some juice when we get there.”

  André nodded, dialing back a little. The wheels spun on the empty highway, going over a hundred and fifty miles an hour between the actual mechanics of the truck and André’s silent mental strength.

  “How much longer?” André asked, his energy level tipping toward the empty mark like the energy needle on the dashboard. He knew he should conserve, but he needed to get home to make sure Katrina and Sam were safe.

  Cal’s hands were on the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. They could see the dome in the distance now. “Less than a half an hour.” He glanced at André. “Don’t exhaust yourself to the point that you can’t recover. We’re gonna need you as strong as possible.”

  “I need you alive in case I get into trouble.” André glanced at Cal. “And we’re pushing the limit on that.”

  Cal took a shallow breath
. “I’ll be fine,” he said more to convince himself than André.

  André closed his eyes again and pushed. The truck lurched faster, now making noises in protest of the speed André was making it go.

  The next fifteen minutes seemed to take forever.

  “Ease up, André,” Cal said as they approached the outside of the outer base.

  André pulled the power back inside and the truck sputtered, stalling a few hundred yards from the door.

  Cal sat back in the seat, wheezing and staring at the hangar. “I think someone’s inside.”

  André closed his eyes, concentrating, putting feelers out there and coming up empty. He glanced at the crease between Cal’s eyes and the worry lines etched in his face. “If they are here, I can handle them.” He took a small breath. “Can you make it to the door?”

  Cal nodded. “I think so,” he said as he looked at the cameras.

  “They aren’t working at the moment. Haven’t been since we hit the horizon,” André said with a smile. “Come on.” He tumbled out of the cab. They met in front of the truck and started walking toward the door.

  “You look like shit, André.”

  André chuckled. “You don’t look much better, buddy.”

  “I’m serious. You look like the walking dead, like you haven’t slept in months.”

  André shrugged. “I’m a little tired, but I’ll manage.”

  Cal stumbled.

  André caught and steadied him. He kept his arm around Cal’s waist for the remainder of the trek.

  “Thanks,” Cal hissed as André leaned him against the wall by the door.

  André put his hand on the doorknob and hesitated, trading a glance with Cal and steeling himself for a battle. “If they are in there, they’ll know we’re here the minute this door opens. Get in and get behind me, understand?”

  Cal nodded.

  André mentally unlocked the door and turned the doorknob, swinging it open. The rush of air pushed him back a step as he entered with Cal in his wake. The door shut behind them.

  It took a second for André’s eyes to adjust and comprehend the two sets of red eyes running in their direction. His heart tripped into overtime, running adrenaline through his tired body, fueling the sudden fury etching his skin. André lashed out, the power exploding from him and eviscerating the intruders like he did to the meteor so many years ago. He sucked in a huge breath of oxygen, shaking from both the rush of relief from his lungs and the power expenditure.