Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  She followed his lead, taking a long, calming breath to focus and remember what she’d been taught. “I know it was terrorists who released something over old Texas that was supposed to burn fuel and die, but something went wrong. The factories exploded, and the Dust went up into the sky and spread over the whole world. It burned all the fuel, everything, and when it went out, it took everything with it. Energy didn’t work anymore. The first Sparks were special soldiers, and they tried to control the Dust, but they couldn’t.

  “People who lived in the huge cities suffered the most and the fastest. They couldn’t get food. And the water stopped flowing. Most of them died.” She swallowed. “And everything went dark for a long time. Almost fifty years later, Mark Peller went out and collected Sparks and formed the First Council.”

  Erwin held up a finger, indicating she should stop her recitation. He pulled a tube closer to himself and unrolled it, revealing a map. He moved the edge of it closer to her as he spoke. “That is a very basic, and incomplete, understanding of what happened—take that side there and pull it toward you—but at least it’s not terribly tainted by Council propaganda.” He gave a loud, indelicate sniff.

  With the map spread before her, she could see the nine Zone divisions. Entire swaths of the green and brown of the land were covered with neatly inked, tiny black x’s—most of the west coast of the country and a huge area sweeping up from the curving shoreline of the south. The ugly slashes crept away from the fat body of the inked areas in long, sinuous arms stretching across the country in every direction. Those tentacles represented the refinery-rich and pipelined Hell Cities and the lands surrounding them that had burned to slag. No one survived.

  Erwin set a heavy ball of glass on one corner and a large and jagged black rock on the other. His hand ran across the map, gesturing like a magician about to make something appear from nothing. “This is the world as it was, two hundred and twelve years ago. Or at least our side of it.” He pointed at the top and moved down. “Canada. The United States. Mexico. Central and South America further down.” He stared down at the map and blinked several times. “The combined population of these three countries was 560 million people. Ten years after the attack, 300 million were gone. Ten years later, another fifty million. And on and on, the dying went. Starvation. Hard winters. Bad water. Illness. The influenza that struck the East Coast relocation centers devastated the population—and to this day, we on the Western fringes are stronger.

  “By the time Peller and his cronies gathered together those few tens of thousands left alive in each of the relocation centers—if you can call what they were doing living—they were grateful for any chance. They would have agreed to anything. And the first Sparks did exactly that.”

  Erwin leaned back in his chair and the wood creaked and moaned, as if as disturbed at the loss of life as Erwin seemed to be. He shook his head. “That is what happened. But what caused all of this devastation?” He raised his brows at her.

  Lena shook her head. She’d answered him already, hadn’t she?

  He smiled faintly. His chair creaked again as he shifted his weight. “The terrorists released nano-robots. Tiny, tiny metal machines too small for the human eye to see. In this case, programmed to destroy fossil fuels. They were specifically designed to work around safeguards, to be self-sufficient, self-replicating. Instead of a kill switch, they had an adaptation switch. The terrorists who made them did everything everyone in science had agreed to never, ever do. We have no idea why.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Tiny robots? Little machines?

  “They might have only affected our fuels, if not for the government’s response. You see, once they figured out what was happening, they decided to try to use their experimental nano-response team—”

  “They had a team of tiny machines?”

  “No, they had a team of soldiers, trained to reprogram the brains of the tiny machines.”

  “The Sparks.”

  “Exactly. They were chosen because of the strength of their brain waves, the ability to control things. And then the scientists manipulated their bodies to make it stronger. Their minds could contact and control nanobots. But by the time they were sent out, it was too late. When the explosions began—the refineries, the pipelines—the nanobots were sent into the atmosphere. It was already over. It took five days, roughly, for the nanobots to circle the Earth, a little longer for them to reach the Southern Hemisphere. Everywhere they settled, wherever they came into contact with pure fossil fuels, nightmarish fire. Even synthesized forms smoldered. And the nanites reproduced. It was over. They were everywhere. In the air, in the water, in us. Everywhere. The world was in flames.”

  “They were the Dust.”

  He sighed and ran his hand over his lips a few times. “They are the Dust.”

  “And the soldiers? What happened to the first Sparks?”

  Erwin nodded. “They tried to stop it. They imposed their will over the adaptations. But it wasn’t perfect. They couldn’t stop only explosions, they had to stop all reactions above a certain threshold. When the bots finally responded, that’s what they did. They stopped the combustion, and every other large-scale reaction. The nanobots muted every reaction wherever they were. Over the next year, the soldier Sparks were able to get the nanobots to adjust; they were able to get some energy back. External combustion mostly. They got us fire. But life as they knew it was done. The entire world paid the price for the anger of a handful of people.”

  “But, really, this is all guesses, right?” She held the map steady with her left hand, but she gestured her disbelief with her right. “I mean, we call it history, but there’s no way we can really know any of this?”

  “We do know, because we were told.” His voice was steady.

  “Told? By whom?”

  “By those who were there.”

  Disbelief flared. “How is that possible?”

  Erwin held up a finger for patience. “As you said, some fifty-five years after the world went dark, a government was formed. And its foundation was built upon the backs of those very soldiers. Peller had worked in the government as a young man, knew something of the program. He gathered together the soldiers he could find and convinced them to use their unique skills to work with the nanobots again. They handed out the first of the Spark-powered batteries. They handed out hope to the few masses remaining in exchange for the power to rule over them.”

  She shook her head. “How many soldiers were there? I may not know all of the details, but I can do math. How could there be so many of us now? Where did all of the Sparks come from?”

  Erwin glanced down. He ran his teeth over his lower lip. “They came from the breeding programs, which of course necessitated the mandatory education programs that you know—”

  Lena scoffed. “Breeding programs!” She let a burst of laughter erupt from her throat. “Those men had to be seventy-five, eighty years old!”

  “Chronologically, yes.” Erwin told her. “But the manipulation of the scientists did something to them. Their lives are very much extended, as are the lives of their descendants.” His stare bored into hers. “You must have noticed how quickly you heal from injury, how rarely you’re sick? It depends upon the strength of the Spark, of course. The lives of weak Sparks run only slightly longer than an unpowered human, perhaps merely a few decades, although they are hardier. The strongest Sparks….” The man shrugged.

  She leaned away from him, brow furrowed. She was one of the strongest Sparks. It wasn’t ego. It was fact. What did this mean?

  “The strongest…what?” She sat up straight again, back rigid, right hand clenched in her lap. “Guardian Erwin…how long—” She stopped and licked her lips. “How long did they live? The soldiers?”

  “The oldest of them began dying sixty years ago.”

  She sat still, but her eyes wandered as she tried to run the calculations in her head. Almost two hundred years? When she spoke her voice shook. “Guardian. Will I…?” She huffed her dismay. “
So, in addition to all the lovely things that make me special enough to kidnap and torture and lock away, I get to look forward to two hundred years of existence as what? Some desiccated old husk?”

  Erwin laughed, his mouth wide. He did resemble a lion. “No, Lena. Your strength, your health, your vitality are all extended. You will not be what we consider old for a very long time.”

  She gave Erwin a long look. He had a very faint aura. “How old are you?”

  “Well, for all I am a giant among the very few historians left in our world, I am not a powerful Spark. And I am eighty-two years old.”

  Lena gasped. She would have said he was not a day older than fifty, possibly younger.

  He nodded, accepting her disbelief. “And this is why you find yourself the center of so much attention.” His smile became rueful. “The strongest among us find your ability to keep pace attractive. If they were to be fortunate enough to win you, they wouldn’t have to watch you wither. They won’t outlive you.”

  “No,” she ventured, her mouth twisting as she stared down at nothing, “they’ll just have to put up with me.”

  Erwin laughed again.

  She flashed him a sickly smile.

  Erwin leaned back, the chair creaking long and low. His attention flicked over her shoulder. “There’s more you need to know. More that explains—” he released his breath in a long sigh “—everything that has happened to you. When you’re ready, ask. We know you’re confused, but we are here to help you. And I think once you understand, some of your impatience and uncertainty will subside.”

  She looked up from the map. She blinked. Information swirled in her head. “Oh. Am I…? Are you dismissing me?”

  Erwin raised his hand up in a grand gesture at the entry behind her.

  Lena twisted in her seat. Reyes leaned against the jamb of the opened door, hands buried deep in his pockets. His face was as relaxed as his posture.

  “Where’s Jackson?” she asked automatically. She gritted her teeth at herself.

  Something flitted over the calm mask, gone before she could name it. “He volunteered to go out on field exercises until tomorrow evening. He was worried he might lose his…” Reyes paused and smiled briefly. “Particular skills. Thomas agreed.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She couldn’t think of anything at all, even though her mind raced.

  He cocked his head slightly in the direction of the hall behind him. “C’mon. I actually have a surprise for you.”

  Lena looked back at Erwin. “Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She stood and shook the man’s hand. A part of her watched with incredulous detachment.

  She joined Reyes and walked with him back down the halls to the elevator, and then off the elevator to her room. She said nothing. She was aware of Reyes studying her. He even managed to look concerned.

  When they reached her door, Reyes leaned to key the lockbox. She grabbed his arm. He waited, staring back at her while her fingers held tight to his arm. She had to know….

  “How old are you?” Her voice was low and hoarse and tense. She didn’t know why it mattered, but it did. For all of his experience and authority, he seemed young and handsome and strong. He didn’t look a day over thirty. And yet, all of the stories of his exploits she’d heard since she’d been here—if he was only thirty, how could he have packed so much into the five years since graduation? She answered herself now: he couldn’t. “How old are you, Reyes?”

  His head cocked to the side, and he searched her face. Bit by bit, he let the mask go. He let her see the pinched lines around his brown eyes, the lines of worry between his brows. He let her see his chin work as he chewed the inside of his lower lip. He took a deep breath and gave her the truth that she needed.

  “I’m forty-eight years old, Lena.” He nodded, acknowledging the shock that must be obvious on her face. “I’m forty-eight.”

  14

  Alex held her shocked gaze. Her shock wouldn’t merely be over his age, or the confirmation of what Erwin had told her, but must be born from the implications of what all of this meant for her. This wasn’t simply news about her probable lifespan. It required a total reexamination of what she believed to be true, even of her own parents. Would she ever question if her mother had been older than Lena thought? She had been, by a couple of decades.

  He waited for the explosion of denial, or more anger, even. He didn’t expect the wobble as her knees let go. If she hadn’t been holding onto his arm with her death grip, she might have gone down.

  He wrapped his free arm around her, giving her support, and pulled her to him.

  No, no. Danger.

  He had no business holding her in his arms. For someone who gave such an overwhelming impression of fire and strength, she curved slight and soft against his chest and stomach. She even smelled good. The voice shouting in his head for his attention was absolutely correct: he didn’t need the kind of trouble she could bring into his life, regardless of how much the rest of him was interested in exploring the idea. He’d spent the last month and a half avoiding her for precisely that reason.

  Alex maneuvered her around and leaned her against the wall and put several inches of space between them. “Breathe,” he told her, voice low. “Just breathe. And try not to think of it all right now.”

  She gasped out a laugh. “Don’t think of it. Excellent suggestion. Tell me how.”

  He leaned away, and her hand tightened again on his arm. Okay, she needed the connection. Not a big deal. “I mean take it in pieces. Don’t try to see all of it at once.”

  “Pieces, huh?”

  He nodded. Her fingers were moving as she thought, back and forth as she gripped and released his arm through the sleeve of his shirt.

  “I’m strong? I know I am, but…I’m really strong, right?”

  He nodded.

  “So that means…?” She must know what it meant, but she moved on, as if the concept was too big to apply to herself. “How is this possible? How does everyone not know?”

  He shrugged. “The strongest, the longest-lived, they all become Wards, who all become agents. The mid-ranges, their life spans vary enough that it isn’t that obvious to most people.”

  “But the Council knows?”

  He nodded. Her nails were scraping through his thin shirt and against his skin. It was a thoughtless, automatic movement. It meant nothing to her, he was sure. But it felt like a caress on his skin. He swallowed. “The Council knows. And their policy until recently has been to ignore and exploit the differences.”

  “Until recently? How recently? What changed?”

  The spasmodic movement of her fingers slowed as she calmed, allowing herself to be distracted away from shock and fear. The slowing movement should have been a relief. It wasn’t. The intensity of his nerve response grew.

  “Well. We don’t know when it officially changed, or if it was even official at first. We started noticing it about twenty-five years ago.”

  “You were young then, right?”

  Alex felt his eyes crinkling. “In the grand scheme of things, I’m still young.” It was time to divorce himself from the sensations coursing up his arm. He took a deep breath.

  “Oh. Right. I meant…you were a young agent then. I mean, you were new.”

  “Yes. And sometimes when you’re new, you see more. Or maybe you accept less. Reassignments of older, powerful agents away from the top tiers of power. Whispers. Disappearances. A group of us were already watching, waiting. So when it started—we looked into it. And what we found made us decide to move, and move hard. We made a plan. We put it into motion.” He shrugged.

  She took a deep breath. Her fingers stilled. “Because if it comes down to them or us….”

  “We choose us.” He tilted his head, watching her face to make sure she fully understood. “And all of the people who depend upon us. We don’t want more suffering. We’re not about withholding power, but we won’t be slaves to those who are weaker t
han we are. Do you understand?”

  She stared sightlessly at his chest. She’d have to reorder everything in her head, line it up with her own experiences. It would make sense to her. Maybe she’d start trusting them.

  Finally, she looked up at him and nodded. “So, all of this time, everything you’ve told me has been true?”

  Alex nodded. “It has, yes.”

  “And everything you’ve done has all been for a reason? And that’s what you’ve all been trying to teach me?”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  She gusted out a breath. When she spoke, her voice was nearly back to normal. “So he was wrong? My Dad. You’re not the bad guys.”

  “Right.”

  “And you’re not actually a brutal, heartless bastard?”

  He blinked. Her final question had been quieter, but her lips were curved. She was almost herself again.

  He couldn’t resist. One side of his mouth drew up in answer. “Well,” he drawled, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  She laughed, the last of her tension releasing with the burst of sound. He laughed with her, his first genuine laugh in a long time. It felt good. He felt light.

  She straightened, rubbing his arm almost affectionately before letting it go.

  He stepped away, still grinning. “Ready for your surprise?”

  “Ha. Are you?” At his questioning look she continued, “The last time you surprised me, I threw you out.”

  He laughed, again, at the memory. “So you did. It’s a good thing I don’t hold grudges. For long.” He keyed the lockbox.

  “In the grand scheme of things?” she asked archly.

  He grinned at her as he pushed the door open. “That’s what I like about you. You’re a quick study.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but her gaze shifted into the room. Her mouth fell open.

  “Ace!” She ran inside.

  Alex followed her. He closed them in as Ace swept her up into his arms with a laugh and swung her around.