Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  “You ask too many questions.”

  She turned left. I moved to follow but spotted a statue tucked into a carved alcove. “Wait …”

  She paused and peered over her shoulder at me.

  The dragon statue and alcove had been hewn from the rock. The serpentine beast, with wings cresting high above its head, lifted its maw to the ceiling, its clawed forelimbs reaching. Its exquisite detail had caught my eye, but it was its beauty that held me.

  “Look at this.” It would be worth a fortune if I could think of a way to cut it free of its home and get it above ground.

  “Come,” Shaianna urged.

  I touched its wing and gasped as a layer of dust fell away, revealing the glimmer of precious gems beneath. A quick blow freed more dust from its sculpted head. Rubies gleamed in its eyes. Emeralds formed its scales. I licked the dust from my lips and swallowed hard. In my obsession to get the Eye, it hadn’t occurred to me that there could be other treasures to unearth here.

  “Curtis.”

  I snapped my head around at her use of my first name.

  “Come,” she urged again. “The torch burns low.”

  I bid the dragon statue farewell. I would be back. With more torches and pickaxes. Whatever it took. If a statue of such worth had lain undiscovered for centuries, what other treasures also lay in wait? The fact that we’d already found something valuable meant the Eye was likely still here. We had discovered a part of the ruins that hadn’t been robbed in antiquity. This was huge.

  “What part of the ruins is this?” I asked, noticing the passage had widened enough for me to stretch both arms out and not touch the walls.

  “The tomb,” Shaianna replied.

  Ahead, a soft hum emanated from the dark. I had dismissed it as the thud of my heart in my ears, but it grew louder with every step. The scuffing sounds of our boots and muffled breaths carried far, and then stopped dead, as though some huge beast were swallowing the noise.

  “A tomb for who?”

  We approached a wall of black and stopped at the edge of a lip. The torch spluttered but the flame held, and yet I couldn’t see into the dark. The floor, the walls, the whole passage just ended. The low hum resonated from the black. I knew it was a vast space in the way the body could sense such things, but I had no idea how we were going to move ahead, unless by blind faith.

  Shaianna was watching me as though expecting an answer.

  I shrugged. “Can’t you”—I wiggled my fingers dramatically—“magic us a light?”

  One of her smooth eyebrows twitched. She tossed the torch into the dark. It tunneled through the black. I leaned out to watch it fall. Shaianna gripped my arm and held me back.

  “Watch,” she said, lifting her gaze.

  The torch clattered on the floor far below and a mighty intake of breath—or so it sounded—whooshed around us. I stepped back and reached for my dagger, but caught Shaianna smiling at something in the distance. I saw it then too, a tiny light like a lone firefly dancing in the dark. And then another blinked beside it, soon followed by dozens more. They grew, slithered, and flowed, becoming narrow rivers of flame. The dark peeled back and revealed its secrets.

  Layer after layer, the streams of flame circled around raised platforms and statues of men and women dressed in armor and brandishing swords easily my size. From the vast floor to the ceiling, the walls were painted with colorful scenes of people at peace, to fantastical images of great battles with a dragon-filled sky. The flames licked on, illuminating an underground coliseum so vast it could have swallowed all of Brea’s Inner Circle. Precious gems glittered along mosaic floors, and at the center of it all, carved from the same rock as every piece here, lay an enormous sleeping stone dragon. The size of a Brean tall ship, it lay on its belly with its wings pulled in. Colorful splashes of art speckled its flanks. The art and their gems glowed as though they’d been placed here only yesterday, but they had to be hundreds, if not thousands of years old.

  “There is the Eye, thief.”

  Shaianna pointed at the dragon’s head. It wasn’t sleeping, I realized. Both eyes had once been open, but one gem was missing. The other eye held the largest emerald I had ever seen, easily the size of my two hands.

  It actually is an eye, a dragon’s eye. I laughed. What else could I do? My laughter rolled into the vast space around the monuments of a lost city.

  Shaianna descended the stone stairs to my right, her steps confident. She knew this fantastic place in a way only someone who had visited here before could know it. The torch, the firelight, the location of the passageway—how could she know these things that had faded from memory and fallen into myth?

  I followed her path down the steps and then through the gullies carved into stone and guarded by massive statues. The dragon’s single eye watched us.

  Statues stood guard, proud and regal in their stone finery. I passed beneath them all, a sense of insignificance pushing down. Firelight warmed the wall paintings, the rippling firelight bringing the battle scenes to life. Men on horses charged a line of warrior people, their fierce kohl-rimmed eyes bright and hungry, beckoning the invaders on.

  Despite what Shaianna said, I was no fool. These people looked like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, and some with gems glittering in strange patterns across their faces. So, then, her people must have been descended from the Arachians. A few hours ago, I hadn’t even considered that the Arachian people had existed.

  I had stopped, held captive by the battle scene. Shaianna’s presence simmered behind my right shoulder. She moved to stand beside me, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin lifted high.

  “There …” she said. “You see her there?”

  I saw a woman, painted with exquisite detail, standing atop a moorland tor. She held no weapons, but she held her hands aloft as though directing her army below. Behind her, the sky swirled with winged beasts—dragons.

  “A terrible battle. The beginning of the end.”

  “Who won?”

  She blinked and swallowed, then murmured, “Neither won. The losses were too great. The wrath of our queen was all-consuming.”

  Shaianna’s wide eyes glistened. The firelight played in the teardrop gem. She uncrossed her arms and reached to touch the painted moorland. She wore her love for the lost queen in her expression. The queen must have been a formidable leader for a love as rich as Shaianna’s to span generations.

  She pulled her hand back, curled her fingers into her palm, and then looked at me. Her eyes slightly widened in surprise, as though she had forgotten I was right beside her. Her mask slammed back into place, and her expression hardened all over again.

  “Come, we must retrieve the Eye and leave this resting place.”

  I took one long lingering look at the painting, at the men and women defending their land, and at the woman atop the moorland tor, her dark hair swept behind her and her face etched with determination. There were others around her, some on their knees reaching up, perhaps pleading with her. But there was a single figure who I might have missed. She was barely more than the queen’s shadow and could have been a mistake, as though the artist had tried to blend her into the background. I couldn’t imagine why, because she was beautiful in her black leather–wrapped attire. There was no mistaking her, but this chamber was ancient. The shadow could not be Shaianna. A relative, definitely, but not her.

  I walked across a mosaicked plateau and stopped beside Shaianna to peer up at the vast stone dragon. Every scale had been expertly carved to perfectly overlap, like the tiles on a roof. Had I not seen such workmanship, I would have said it was impossible to carve something to such perfection.

  “You must climb to her head, remove the Eye with your dagger, and bring it down to me.”

  I brushed a hand across the dragon’s rear claw—as tall as me—and scanned for possible handholds and resting points. I could scale a building with little thought, but this monumental statue wouldn’t be that simple. The scales provided few places to grip, and th
en I would have to clamber back down with the heavy gem. “I hesitate to say it’s impossible …”

  “You’re Brea’s best-known thief. Would you turn away from such a challenge?”

  A smile tucked into my cheek. “Flattery will get you everywhere, princess.”

  I wanted to ask about the queen’s shadow on the hill. Shaianna had said she was no princess, that she was an advisor and a warrior. But I wouldn’t ask yet. We were here for the Eye.

  “We need the Eye to break the bond,” she reminded me, believing my hesitation from uncertainty.

  “If I do this, I want you to explain who you are.”

  “I am shadow and dust.”

  “No riddles.” I held her stare but pointed back to the painting. “Tell me about the queen’s shadow.”

  She didn’t blink or falter. “Once we have the Eye and I have severed the bond, I will tell you everything you deserve to know, Curtis.”

  Well, that sounded like a promise, but it also had a hint of a threat. Her smile said I had nothing to fear, but my gut had been telling me to fear her since she dropped me to my knees in a Brean alleyway, demanding I drink from her cup.

  “This chamber is hundreds of years old …” I began.

  “Hundreds, yes.”

  I held her stare. “When we’re done here, when the bond is no more, will you share an ale with me, somewhere where we won’t be disturbed? Somewhere you can tell me the truth of this place and you? And tell me about magic and your queen?”

  Her gaze skipped away, but her smile stayed. “I would like that, I think. Very much.”

  “Good.” I shrugged off my coat, tied the arms together, and tossed it around my neck, creating a sack. After kicking off my boots and brushing my hands with dust, I stood back and visualized a path up the rump of the beast and over its back, neck, and head.

  “Do not fall, thief. Your death, and subsequently mine, would be unfortunate.”

  “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

  I’d broken into many supposedly impenetrable places, usually by taking an unconventional route. In Brea, that was from the top down—overhanging rooftops, protruding store signs, and dock cranes. But this stone dragon had no overhangs above it, just the carved cavern ceiling.

  I gripped the first few scales, wedged my toe into a hold point, took a deep breath, and began the climb. After testing my weight in various footholds and a few false starts, I eventually found my stride and cared only for the next scale, the next grip point. With my heart beating steadily, I fell into a rhythmic focus and reached the beast’s back in good time. The climb down would be more difficult, especially if that emerald proved as heavy as it looked, but I would worry about that once I had the gem in my hands.

  Crouched on the dragon’s back to catch my breath and rub grit from my hands, I cast a gaze all around at the panorama of dramatic scenes, sparkling gems, and proud statues. The sight was something to behold. Had Brea been kinder, I might have considered sharing the discovery with its people, but they didn’t deserve this treasure. In truth, neither did I, but by some design of chance, it was me climbing a dragon’s back in a forgotten tomb and not a worthier man.

  I walked up the dragon’s back, between is bunched wings.

  “Thief?” Shaianna called up.

  “I’m fine.”

  She had backed up against the painted wall, giving her a spot from which to watch me climb the neck and head. From my angle, I could see both her and the shadow in the painting: there was no doubt.

  I gripped the dragon’s upright neck spikes and climbed higher.

  The rational part of me—the part still buried in denial—sought out excuses. Perhaps Shaianna had modeled her attire after the shadow-woman. She knew the tomb, she had been here before, so she could have been pretending. But I was reaching. Her strange words, her stranger ways, and her aptitude for killing—she had told me everything I needed to know about her queen and her people. She was all that remained. All I had to do was believe. But if I did believe she was the shadow-woman, and with that the fact she had to be as ancient as this tomb, what was I supposed to do with that knowledge? Magic existed, and so did she. What did that truly mean? If the Inner City guard knew, they would burn her alive—and me along with her.

  I clambered over the dragon’s crest of horns and sprawled onto my front. The mosaic floor blurred in the torchlight far below. A fall from this height would kill me. I shuffled forward on my belly, freed my dagger, and clamped the blade between my teeth. Let the fun begin.

  “Careful,” Shaianna barked.

  She wasn’t helping, but with the dagger between my teeth, I couldn’t tell her so. I locked my feet around one of the many small spikes jutting from the dragon’s brow and eased my weight over what would have been its eyebrow, if it had had one. Sorry, dragon. Those eyes are just too pretty …

  Dangling head down, I admired the huge emerald. The Eye had been cut with the same precision as the carvings. Flamelight caressed its facets. No wonder the restless gods had coveted such workmanship. Such a shame it had been hidden for so long. It deserved to be seen, admired.

  I plucked the dagger free from between my teeth and began picking away at the clasps holding the Eye in place.

  “Do you have it, thief? I cannot see you.”

  Sweat tickled my back. I chipped away at the gem, dislodging enough of the clasps and cement to consider wiggling it free. Dagger back between my teeth, I clasped the Eye in both hands and shifted it side to side. Dust and grit rained from the socket. Each push and pull freed the gem a little more.

  One of the spikes I’d clamped my right foot around gave out. Ice-cold terror gripped me as I lurched forward. I shot my arm out, bracing myself against the dragon’s substantial snout, and wedged my body still. My heart galloped. Sweat crawled up my neck and into my hairline. By the Halls of Arach, don’t let me fall.

  “Curtis?”

  I wasn’t sure whether I preferred thief better.

  My breaths hissed around the dagger.

  Wedging an elbow against the empty eye socket, I plucked the dagger free. “If I drop the dagger, will you find it?”

  “Yes.”

  I let go and listened—one, two, three, four seconds before it clattered on the floor somewhere far below. Gulping hard, I prayed I didn’t follow it anytime soon.

  “Do you have the Eye?”

  “There are some … complications.”

  “What kind of complications?”

  I searched for some purchase with my right foot. My whole body shifted forward, freezing me still. “The complicated kind.”

  “Oh, I see you … Move your foot back.”

  Back … That was easier said than done. Heat resonated through my shoulder muscles and trembled down my arm. “I can’t.”

  “It’s right there. Just move back a little.”

  “I can’t,” I growled again.

  Back wasn’t an option. But forward was. I craned my neck up and saw several spiky whiskers protruding from the breast’s snout. If I could reach those, I could swing myself around, haul myself back up, and work the gem free from the beast’s nose. Possibly.

  “You’re slipping.”

  I hadn’t believed she could be more frustrating. I’d been wrong. “Would you keep the commentary to yourself so I can think?”

  “I would like to live.”

  “So would I!” I slipped. My heart lodged in my throat. Panic choked me, and then instinct kicked in. Inside a single breath, I shoved off the brow and sprang for the snout. Between falling and reaching, I feared I might have angled myself wrong. I was sure I was falling too far, too fast.

  I snagged the nose spike and dangled freely for a few seconds, not yet breathing. Then, with one be-all or end-all push, I threw my right arm up, caught onto a whisker, and heaved myself onto the snout. Spikes dug into my hip and chest, but I didn’t care.

  I hugged the dragon’s snout. “Thank the gods.”

  “Curtis?” Her haughty voice echoed ar
ound the tomb.

  “Yes?”

  “I would prefer it if you did not take such chances with your life.”

  “You know what I’d prefer right now?” I got my knees under me and inched forward.

  “What?”

  “For you to stop talking and let me get on with stealing your gem.”

  To my surprise, she fell quiet. I reached over the gap between the nose and eye and braced one hand on the dragon’s brow while working my other hand around the gem. At last I was upright, although the view under my arm of the drop to certain death did little to calm my racing heart.

  The Eye finally released. It fell into my cupped hand, its weight enough to strain my arm muscles. “Got it!”

  Getting the Eye back was equally troublesome. Its weight in my coat, slung across my back, threw off my balance and caused me to slip across several scales, but I eventually made it down without breaking a limb.

  Shaianna’s smile when I pulled the Eye free of the makeshift sack was almost reward enough. Her smiles were rare, but when they did come, they shone as brightly as any treasure. She clasped the Eye in her hands and peered into its facets. The green glow touched her face and sparkled in her equally green eyes.

  She turned away, enthralled by the gem.

  We had accomplished our goal. I smiled to myself as I untangled my coat and shrugged it back on. I had my foot in my second boot and was tying up the laces when she rushed forward. I braced for an attack, my hand going for the dagger that wasn’t there, and froze as her warm hand cupped my cheek and her soft tantalizing lips met mine. She tasted of sweetness and something crisp and fresh. In a blur, it was over. She jogged back to where she had laid the Eye, with no notion of how her kiss tingled on my lips, or how that fleeting moment had sparked something violently alive inside.

  With one boot still undone, I crossed the mosaic floor, caught her hand, and drew her around. I didn’t wait for her to speak and say something that would stop me. I slipped my hand into her hair, drew her forward, and kissed her like I had wanted to since seeing her in the waterfall. When her lips parted and she let me in, the doubts I’d harbored broke apart. The taste of her, so sweet and soft—I needed more. It wasn’t enough. Need was too tame a word. Like the rush of stealing a coveted artifact, she sparked something alive in me—a ravenous hunger for more.