Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  “You brought me a pretty guest!” His thin white brows rose in delight. He turned back to Alex, his lips twitching with amusement in a face crisscrossed with the seams of age and humor. Sam winked at the younger man. “You can go now. We’d like to be alone.”

  In spite of the tension and confusion curling inside her, or perhaps because of it, a laugh burst from her. Sam reached his shaking hand out for Lena’s. Alex glanced at her for permission before he took her hand and placed it in Sam’s. The old man’s fingers closed around hers, and he closed his eyes. She could feel the Dust stirring within her, the almost-whisper at the back of her mind getting louder with his touch.

  When Sam opened his eyes again, tears filled them. One rolled down his dry cheek. “Alex…,” he breathed. “You’ve found a treasure.”

  Alex bounced in his squat. He swallowed and nodded his head. “I know.” He glanced up at her and away. “But she’s confused, Sam. She’s been told a lot of lies. I don’t think she knows what to believe. Or who. So I brought her to you.”

  “To me?”

  He smiled. “You know the truth. You lived it. Tell her, like you told me.”

  The old man laughed, a dry, huffing sound that moved his entire body. “I had years with you. And you still didn’t believe. Not all the way. Not until you saw with your own eyes.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the next step.” Alex leaned in with an affectionate hand on Sam’s thin arm. “Will you talk to her?”

  “Sure I’ll talk to her. What else do I have to do but stare at this wall?” He made his huffing laugh again.

  Alex stood. “Do you need anything?”

  “I wouldn’t turn down some nice water. What about you, Lena? Can he get you anything?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Alex crossed behind her, sliding one hand across her shoulders as he went. She shivered, and his attention dipped, noticing the involuntary response. He pulled his hand away and left.

  Lena knelt down beside Sam. He regarded her, face serious. He still hadn’t released her hand.

  “Alex is a good man with a thankless job.” His voice was firm. “But he does it so no one else has to. Remember that.”

  “I will.”

  He nodded. Once the bobbing motion started, it took him awhile to stop. “How much have they told you?” His voice had gone wispy and wan again.

  She shrugged, at a loss as to where to start. “How it all happened. What the Dust really is. What we are. Where we came from.” She hesitated. “A little bit about me.”

  “The basics.” The grimace on his seamed face seemed an exaggerated expression of impatience. “So I’ll start at the beginning of the end, then. My beginning. I was picked for the program when I was a kid, straight out of basic training. They were selecting for guys who had strong electromagnetic brain waves. Guys who could ace a biofeedback test. Once we were in, it wasn’t just training, though. They manipulated our DNA.” At her blank look, he explained, “They played with our genes, the stuff that makes us us. Made us stronger. Created a new dominant trait.

  “I had celebrated my twenty-sixth birthday three days before we were called down. We were a secret unit, you know. An elite unit. They tried to play it cool, but after we ended the Pakistan Insurgency without a single casualty—dropped in the ‘bots, keyed them to target human energy signatures, knocked ’em all out and sent in the ground crew to gather ’em up like apples off a tree. Well, we knew we were it then. The next generation.” Sam smiled. It was wistful, and it faded quickly.

  “We didn’t go to the sites. Cloud servers don’t have to move. We stayed here, actually. The scientists were the ones who went out to the sites with the bots. They were the ones who burned when it all went up a day later.” He fell quiet for a moment. “We lost a lot of the country that day. We got it all under control as fast as we could. We found what we hoped was a solution, but we were operating under pressure.” He smiled thinly. “It wasn’t perfect, but the explosions stopped. The fires died back, from infernos to slag.” His voice drifted off as he remembered.

  Lena sat quietly, watching the pain move across his face.

  “And then everything stopped. We didn’t have any information, but we could figure it out. It was dark for a long time.” She didn’t think he meant only the lack of power and lights. “The first winter was brutal. No heat. No fire. Nothing. It was hard enough to make it where we were out west. I don’t want to think about what it must have been like for people up north. But we did think about it, all of us who stayed to keep working. We knew people were dying out there. We wanted to get it all back. All we managed to get back was external combustion. Fire. Steam. And it took us most of a year. By then, we were falling apart.”

  He fell quiet again. It took a little longer for him to start again this time.

  “I made my way to Canev Relocation Center. Tried to help, but I barely stayed alive. We had no hope. No reason to go on. By the time I noticed everyone else getting older and I wasn’t, I just moved on.”

  Alex returned then, moving quietly into the room. He carried a chair in one hand and balanced a tray with a pitcher and cups with the other. He set the tray on the bed and poured Sam a glass of water. He brought it over, setting it in Sam’s hand and wrapping his fingers around it. Then he set the chair beside Sam. “Sit,” he told Lena as he sank onto the floor. He stretched his legs out and settled his hands across his lap.

  She moved into the chair.

  Sam sipped at his cup. He flashed a smile of gratitude at Alex and raised the glass to him. “It was a long time of just wandering then. I saw a lot of things. Some good. Most bad. One day, one of Peller’s recruiters found me.” Something in the way he said the word ‘recruiters’ told her Sam regretted that day. “I joined up. I was happy to. I wanted a chance to put right what had happened. I was ready. Ready. Some of the older guys, they weren’t so sure. They told me Peller had been CIA. He’d been bounced from the program for some unethical behavior. They didn’t know what. I didn’t listen.” He dragged in a long breath and let it out. “He knew what we could do. And he had big plans on how we’d help him fix it all.” He nodded his head again. “And he did. He fixed it all.” He raised his face to Lena. She could see it still angered him. “Except he didn’t. We did it. He took the credit. We all felt so guilty about what had happened that we let him.”

  He fell silent. Alex watched him. She waited.

  Eventually, Sam sipped then he took a ragged breath. “I don’t want to talk about the breeding programs.” His head dipped as he hid his face.

  He’s ashamed.

  “It’s okay,” Alex told him, “You don’t have to.”

  Sam nodded, head bobbing in decreasing arcs. “The program led to all of you, of course, and to this school. I retired here, to help teach the strongest of our descendants. So many children….” His voice drifted off. His head lifted, and his gaze moved over her face and hair. “You could be one of mine, you know? With those freckles and eyes. You could be one of my…great grandchildren? Great-great?”

  His forehead creased as he pondered the generations. He shrugged, and then his face split in a mischievous smile. He pointed to Alex with a shaking hand. “Not this one, though. He looks just like that bastard Castillo. Bred true, without a doubt. You never met a vainer, more egotistical sumbitch in your life.” The huffing laugh had moved into a wheezing cackle.

  Alex grinned. Apparently, he’d heard this before. Lena sent him a questioning look, but he merely rubbed his chin and winked at her. She turned back to Sam.

  He settled back, moving his hips slightly to find a more comfortable position. “Peller always meant us to serve them. We were tools. Peller’s Pistons.” His voice was strong again and angry. “From the beginning, it’s what they intended. We started willingly, but when some of us tried to walk away—” He shook his head and lifted a hand, one finger raised. His lips tucked back into his mouth as he tried to compose himself enough to continue. “Then the pri
sons started. And now the collars. Did you tell her about the collars?”

  Alex shook his head. “No. She’ll see with her own eyes soon enough. But…” He hesitated before plunging on, “She’s already been on one of the tables.”

  Sam went still. His watery eyes stared up at the younger man. His chin crumpled. “The tables? They had their hands on your pretty girl?” He shook his head.

  He turned to Lena and the violence in his face shocked her.

  Even after he began speaking again, his voice full of rage and grief, his head went on shaking minutely. “But look at you. Here. Strong. Strong, not like my Miranda.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat, a rheumy sound. “She was a strong girl, so feisty, but not strong like you are.” His focus moved over her in the particular way Sparks had when they were looking at an aura and not a person.

  “And she was too young. I had no business taking up with her. I was almost a hundred and fifty years old by then. I knew what they were capable of.” His voice moved higher, thinning with grief and tears.

  Alex got to his feet and went to Sam, crouching before him and putting a hand on the man’s slight shoulder. “Sam,” he murmured, “it’s okay. We can come back later.”

  Sam looked up at him, his face dark as he began losing himself to the memories. “They take what you love. They twist and break it. And then they throw it back to you and wait for you to break.”

  “I know, Sam. I’m sorry. I wish it was easier to focus on the good you had. I’m sorry our visit brought this back again.”

  The old man waved his hand and took several deep breaths, as if preparing to continue. But in a moment, his gaze unfocused, and he stared ahead. His eyes moved as if he watched something before him that they couldn’t see. He closed them as he curled in toward his lap, crumpling in on himself, and he waved his hand at Alex again. This time the wave of dismissal was final.

  Alex leaned his head in and whispered in Sam’s ear. Sam shook his head. Alex sat back on his heels, sighed, and shook his head at Lena.

  She rose and leaned in to press her hand to Sam’s shoulder before crossing to wait in the hall.

  Alex took the tray with the pitcher of water and set it on the chair she’d just vacated. He moved them within easy reach of Sam and then joined her. He turned back and gently closed the door behind them.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.” He took an uneven breath and ran his hands through his hair. “He’s had a long time to live with what happened to Miranda. Of course, he only touched on the part I wanted you to hear. About what we’re doing and why, so you can trust—”

  “It’s okay. I get it.”

  He turned to her, dark and inscrutable as he searched her face. “I spent a lot of time up here growing up. More than was officially sanctioned. I heard about Miranda a lot.” He reached out and silently tapped his fingertips against Sam’s door before withdrawing his hand. “C’mon. We have a lot to get done today before I have to be back in Azcon. Daylight’s burning.”

  He moved past her, his feet making no sound on the carpeted floor.

  17

  Alex led the way outside, but Lena hesitated behind him. He turned back. She squinted against the bright light, glancing side to side to check for others using the patio. He cursed silently. Thomas would have to call a meeting. She shouldn’t be uncomfortable here where he’d promised her a safe place. The men of Fort Nevada would just have to have to learn to deal with her presence and with what it did to them. He had.

  He walked backward and called out to her, “What’s the hold up? C’mon. Thomas said you liked it out here. So move it.” He turned back to head up one of the red gravel paths.

  Her footsteps crunched down the path behind him.

  He wound around on the path for two more turns and then arrived at his destination, one of his favorite spots in the garden. A gravel circle created a side area off of the path, somewhat hidden by a pair of desert willows flanking the opening. Benches faced each other from the edges of the gravel. He positioned himself in front of one bench and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet as he waited for her, psyching himself up for both the focus and the pain.

  Lena entered the court and wandered toward the other bench, keeping her eye on him.

  “I want you to try to hurt me,” he told her. He tapped his chest. “Hit me.”

  She raised her hands up between them.

  Did she think he wanted her to slap him? He rolled his eyes. “No, Lena. Not with your hands.” He smirked. “As if you could.”

  Her hands popped to her hips in attitude.

  Yeah, she was tough. She’d lived in the desert on her own, chopped her own wood, trapped and hunted her food, defended herself and her home from animals and men. And he admired it. But being strong was entirely different from being able to fight. He hadn’t meant to insinuate she was weak, but he guessed that’s what she took from his comment.

  She glowered at him.

  He laughed. “You’re adorable.” If he had to make her angry to make this work, he was willing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly sure this would work, perhaps he should tone it down a little. “No, seriously. I dropped the defense I worked out. I’ve been practicing getting it up fast, in response to an attack, but I need to see if it works. So, hit me. With the Dust.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Why? I’m the only one who can attack like this, and unless you keep pissing me off, I’m not coming after you.”

  He made a face. “Actually, Thomas once managed something similar years ago. And I’m becoming more and more convinced you may not be the only one now, either. Or at least, not for much longer.” He stood straight again and tapped his chest, grinning at her. “So, c’mon, you still mad at me? Even a little? Hit me.”

  He barely finished his sentence. His lungs and muscles shut down. His body stiffened, inside and out, as the muscles froze. She withheld the pain this time, but she waited impassively as he struggled. He pulled in his focus and visualized what he wanted.

  My body. My response.

  The squeezing in his lungs cleared, and his contracted muscles eased. He tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath. His hands unclenched. His head swung around on his neck. After a moment, he grinned at her, pleased with her raised brows and impressed expression. “Told you. Now do it again, but switch it up. Do something I wouldn’t expect.”

  Lena nodded at him.

  Alex doubled over at the sudden stabbing, twisting, acid burn of pain in the muscles and cells of his gut. He grabbed his belly, eyes wide. After a moment, he dropped to a crouch and groaned. How was he supposed to focus through this pain? He could hear himself panting, and he focused on that instead. He counted, visualized turning the Dust away from its attack, and used his sawing breaths as a countdown. Thirty seconds later, he raised his head, dazed but recovering. Did his face reflect how sick he felt?

  “That wasn’t nice,” he said. “Another few seconds, and I would have shit myself.” He couldn’t believe he’d admitted that. He couldn’t believe it had almost happened.

  She tried not to laugh but failed. “Sorry,” she told him, unrepentant.

  It was his turn to glower at her.

  “You told me to do it,” she protested. “And besides, you did stop it. You’re pretty good at this.”

  He gingerly stood, holding his stomach. “That was brutal.” He tilted his head back and forth and swallowed. “Remember that one if you’re ever in a tight spot.”

  “Absolutely.” She paused. “Wanna go again?”

  Obviously, she enjoyed this.

  “Huh.” He took a couple of steps to the side and back, trying to help the muscles in his lower belly relax. “Why don’t I try to hit you? I’ve been working on it, too. I can actually make some sparks across a room now.”

  Lena shrugged. She was obviously of the opinion that sparks did not an attack make, and he’d been thoroughly unsuccessful at learning how to attack thus far. Everyone she’d tried to te
ach had been. They couldn’t get it.

  The failure frustrated him. They could heal. They could defend. They were getting better and better at doing regular things from a distance. Not a single one of them could learn her attacks.

  Alex cleared his throat and prepared himself. He pushed the breath out of his lungs, reaching out with his mind to the Dust inside of her, on her skin, floating free in the air around her. He tried talking to the Dust within her, the way he’d recently learned to talk to his own.

  It didn’t respond.

  Frustrated, he raised his inner voice.

  Still nothing.

  He took a long breath, closed his eyes, and tried again, calmer.

  He couldn’t sense even a hint of a response.

  She cleared her throat, and the quiet noise echoed through their small clearing like a rock falling.

  Alex opened his eyes.

  “Not working?” Her soft question oozed disappointment. Clearly, she felt the failures, too.

  He shook his head.

  “Try again,” she suggested.

  He did.

  Alex tried over and over, until his head throbbed. Finally, he sank down onto the bench behind him. He rested his aching head in his hands and breathed. When he looked up again, she had taken a seat across the little clearing from him. From her face, she had something on her mind.

  “You have questions.” He made a ‘give it to me’ gesture, flipping his fingers toward himself.

  “I do have questions,” she answered. “About Sam.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “First…he said Peller was in the CIA. What’s the CIA?”

  “From what he’s told us, it was a government organization of agents who watched and listened and kept order, but used questionable tactics.”

  “So, basically, exactly like all of you?”

  Yeah, he walked right into that one.

  He winced and tried to shake his head. The movement stalled, and he barked a laugh. “I suppose.” He could hear how guarded his own response was. He had to work on that. Somehow, at some point, she’d have to learn to trust him.