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

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  The private who’d run across the ship to stop Nielson was now headed toward Ballard.

  “The Captain wants you to report to the command station, too. I’ll stay here.” The young private—Benjamin, one of the only men in this group Ballard actually had a bit of fondness for—held out his hand and nodded at Ballard’s harpoon rifle. Ballard passed it to him, reluctant to leave Talia, but eager for a chance at more information.

  As he turned to go, he threw a quick glance her way. She winked at him. It was so unexpected he nearly tripped over his own feet.

  Ballard stopped at the end of the command station and saluted the captain. “Sir!”

  Nielson moved past Ballard, and Ballard fought the urge to punch the Lieutenant in the gut. Or maybe a little lower than the gut.

  Pressure suddenly swelled against Ballard’s eardrums, and he flexed a special muscle in his jaw to quickly equalize it. They must be below two hundred and fifty feet now. The captain turned to talk to the men who’d gathered at the command station. Ballard caught sight of a slender cuff around the captain’s wrist that he’d noticed before but hadn’t really paid attention to. It had a tiny blinking red light on it.

  “We’re almost at the way station,” the captain said. “We’ll rendezvous with the other ascent ships, transfer to the submarine, and continue to the base.”

  “Captain, Lieutenant Shoreditch on Ascent Ship Bravo is waiting for your command,” Nielson said from one of the monitors, one hand against his earpiece. “The others have checked in.”

  As the captain turned and took an earpiece from Nielson, Ballard’s pulse seemed to falter. He’d served with Shoreditch in the last Rebel battle. The man would know Ballard immediately. He’d blow Ballard’s cover.

  Ballard had to find a way to prevent Shoreditch’s ship from joining them at the way station.

  The captain turned to check one of the displays, touched his earpiece, and began speaking. “This is Captain Rogers, Ascent Ship Alpha. All ascent ships will key in simultaneously in T-minus five minutes. Countdown will begin on Alpha’s command.” He removed his earpiece, handed it back to Nielson, and nodded at him. “Go ahead.”

  Nielson gave the command to all of the ascent ships to begin the countdown, then moved so one of the other men could monitor the controls. He stood near to Ballard, waiting for the captain to continue addressing the men.

  The captain glanced down at the band on his wrist, did something with it, and it hinged opened and fell into his hand. He held it out to Nielson. “I’ll let you do the honors, First Lieutenant.”

  Nielson took the band and put it on his own wrist, his eyes on the countdown displayed on the monitor and his finger poised over a button on the band.

  The captain turned to the men. “We have kept you in the dark about what’s coming next in order to maintain the strictest secrecy.” The captain swept his gaze over Ballard and the others. “This is one of the most delicate steps in our operation. We only have enough power to open the way station’s water lock once every eight hours. All the ascent ships must key in at the same moment in order for us to enter at the same time. At T-minus one minute, all but the most essential operations on the ascent ships will shut down.”

  Ballard’s pulse kicked up. This was his chance. He just had to figure out how to screw up the timing so his ascent ship was either ahead of the others or left behind. And that bracelet on Nielson’s wrist had to be the key the captain was talking about, the key Ballard had been looking for.

  “Gentry, inform the men guarding the cargo that the lights will go out briefly while we’re entering the lock and docking at the way station. They will stay where they are until my order.”

  Gentry saluted and trotted away to the row of women and the men guarding them. The captain turned back to the command station, picked up his earpiece again, and hooked it over his ear.

  Ballard glanced at the countdown. Less than a minute until lights out. He eyed Nielson’s hands, making sure he knew exactly where the wristband’s button was so he’d be able to feel for it in the dark. His mind whirled, trying to come up with a good reason to bump into Nielson, or some other way to keep the man from knowing who activated the wristband prematurely. Such a blatant move wouldn’t be much better than getting exposed as a spy, if Ballard played this poorly. If only Talia weren’t so far away, he might be able to get her to create some kind of distraction.

  He looked at the clock again. Nine seconds until the power-down. No time to get over to the women to try to coordinate something with Talia. He edged as close to Nielson as he could without actually touching the man.

  When the clock hit one minute, the lights flickered a couple of times and then extinguished. A few of the young women gasped or let out startled exclamations. Some of the background whirring noises of the ascent ship died. The only remaining light came from the monitors in the command module displaying the countdown and the maps with their tracer lines and blinking lights.

  Ballard’s hands twitched. Not yet.

  There was a low rumbling reverberation, and Ascent Ship Alpha began to tremor. One of the women screamed.

  The tremor grew into a shake, and the rumble became a growl.

  Suddenly the ship’s platform shimmied hard and tipped, and Ballard threw out his arms to catch his balance. When the ship tipped the other way, he heard Nielson curse loudly just as the First Lieutenant smashed into Ballard’s side.

  This was his chance.

  With seventeen seconds left on the clock, Ballard flailed his arms as if struggling for balance. He “accidentally” smacked Nielson in the cheek with the back of one hand to distract him, and with the other felt for the First Lieutenant’s arm. Ballard’s fingers found the band, and he smashed his thumb onto the button, then flailed his arms again and pushed Nielson away.

  An ear-splitting screech made Ballard wince and brought more cries from the women. The ship rumbled again, and then the telltale rhythmic whine of vacuum pumps working at capacity told him that Ascent Ship Alpha was now inside the way station’s water lock. If Ballard’s scheme had worked, the other ascent ships were still outside, floating in the cold sea.

  Chapter Three

  “Please tell me I did not just see you wink at the cute one with the big, broad—” Janelle’s sentence ended with a startled squeak as the lights went out and the dome shook, sparing Talia the need to respond.

  Talia leaned forward and looked to the command area, trying to make out what was going on there.

  “Easy, ladies,” one of the privates shouted over the alarmed shrieks of the girls. “Lights will come back on soon.”

  “I’ve got a knife,” Talia whispered urgently in Janelle’s ear. “Stay close to me.”

  “How did you get a knife?” Janelle whispered. Then she gasped. “Wait, it was the hottie, wasn’t it?”

  The lights started to flicker, and Talia cast a wry smile at Janelle. She scooted forward slightly so she could try to get a better view of what was happening. The guy in charge, the one they all addressed as “Captain,” was going ballistic. His wrath was directed at Nielson, the one who’d taken one of the girls to the other side of the dome. He was hollering about keys and a water lock and ascent ships.

  Nielson was red-faced, jabbing his index finger in Ballard’s direction.

  “Shut the hell up, Nielson!” The captain thundered.

  Nielson stiffened and clamped his arms at his sides. “Yes, sir.”

  “Serves him right to have some trouble. Rotten bastard,” Janelle muttered. “After what he nearly did to Midori, that poor girl.”

  The women were talking in low voices around her, but Talia was focused on the men. She craned, trying to catch more of the conversation in the command area. Something had obviously gone wrong, and it appeared Nielson had been trying to convince the captain that Ballard deserved the blame.

  Janelle was leaning across Talia to talk to the strawberry blonde sitting on Talia’s other side, Caroline. “She said he what?”


  The tone of Janelle’s voice drew Talia’s attention just as the lights flickered once more and then brightened.

  Janelle turned to Talia with wide eyes. “Did you hear that? That girl Midori, the one Nielson messed with, is saying the men aren’t wearing pants,” Janelle said.

  Talia frowned. “They’re wearing some kind of diving pants with shorts over them.”

  “No, no. She said it’s not pants—it’s like another layer of skin. Skin that looks like scales and fins.” Janelle stared at Talia as if waiting for her to get the punchline of a joke. Janelle rolled her eyes upward when Talia didn’t respond. “Scales and fins, like fish! I’m right. I know it. They’re sea people, actual mermen.”

  “I really don’t think so, Janelle.” Talia snorted a laugh, actually glad for the diversion. “I love that you’re fond of fairy tales, but it’s a lot more likely that they’re wearing some kind of super high-tech amphibious suits.”

  Janelle gave her friend a mock scowl. “I respectfully disagree.” Then Janelle’s tone turned serious. “Talia, I really don’t think these men are regular humans. They’re not like us.”

  “I’m sure there’s a mundane explanation for what Midori thought she saw.” Talia stifled a tired sigh. Leave it to a bunch of drunk, scared college girls to start claiming that these men were half fish. What was next, ocean-dwelling unicorns galloping past the portholes?

  Actually, she wished there were some portholes—not that a porthole would do much good deep in the ocean. But anything to help her orient herself and better understand the situation would be helpful. She knew they’d descended but had no sense of how deep in the ocean they were. She searched for Ballard and spotted him at the control area. Next chance she got, she needed to try to get some answers out of him.

  She strained to catch the men’s conversation.

  “. . . Echo made it in, but . . .” the captain let loose a string of cursing, though he’d lowered his voice and was no longer shouting. “The way station can’t maintain docking position with the Sea Dragon while she sits around and waits another eight hours for the other ascent ships. Nielson! Contact the base and tell them to send the Narwhal ASAP.” He punctuated his order with another couple of curses.

  The young man who’d taken Ballard’s spot in front of Talia shifted, waving at one of his colleagues until the other young man looked up. “Hey, Lee, you know what’s going on?”

  Lee shrugged one shoulder. “Only two ascent ships made it into the way station water lock, us and Ascent Ship Echo. We were all supposed to take the same sub down to the base, but now we’re going ahead without them.”

  “How long ‘til we get onto the sub?” Talia piped up.

  Lee and the other young man, Private somebody, gave her apprehensive looks. The two of them were obviously the youngest in the group, which Talia hoped meant it would be easy to draw them into conversation.

  “Takes about a half hour to go through all the pressurization protocols,” Lee finally said.

  “Thanks, good to know.” Talia smiled, trying to look friendly. “Any food in that sub? You guys have got to be starving, too.”

  “Yeah, we’ll get some grub,” Not-Lee said. His orange-blonde hair and sprinkle of freckles made him look especially boyish. “Old fashioned sub’s got barracks and all that. We’ll be able to catch some shut-eye, too.”

  “So how long have you been, uh, working for . . . under the captain?” Talia stumbled, unsure of the right military terminology, but wanting to keep the guys talking.

  Not-Lee relaxed his hold on the long, narrow weapon he held. “I was too young to fight in the Rebel Wars, but I joined Ice Cap forces last year—”

  “Shut up, you moron!” Lee broke in. “We’re not supposed to tell Abovers about that kind of stuff!”

  Not-Lee reddened, clamped his lips closed, and turned his back on the women.

  Talia blew a frustrated breath out through her lips. “Just when I was starting to get somewhere,” she muttered. “Hey.” She frowned and turned to whisper to Janelle. “I’d never claim to be up on current world events, but I’ve never heard of the Rebel Wars. Or—what was the other thing he said?—the Ice Cap forces.”

  “No idea.” Janelle raised her brows. “Unless it’s some really small skirmish or uprising in a country that doesn’t get much media attention in the U.S. Maybe a secret operation. Ice Cap might just be code for a special forces group. Or . . .” She paused dramatically and gave Talia a pointed look. “He might be talking about a war between the sea people that we landlubbers wouldn’t know anything about.”

  Talia responded with a withering stare. “Did you really just say ‘landlubbers’?”

  Janelle lifted a shoulder, clearly not letting Talia’s skepticism cause her any second thoughts about her theory, but then her face took on a more concerned expression. “Talia,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “If they’re going to hold us for ransom, don’t you think they’d be asking for our personal information? We were obviously taken at random, so I doubt they’d be trying to get our families to pay. Maybe the government or something. But they haven’t even asked our names.”

  Their eyes met for a long moment, and an uneasy tightening curled through Talia’s chest. Janelle was right. The phrase Talia had heard earlier, something about being “ripe for harvest”—not to mention the way all the women had been forced to stand in that scanner device—came back to her, and she shivered.

  With Lee and Not-Lee refusing to talk to them, and Ballard stuck with duties over at the captain’s area, Talia started asking the names of all the young women to pass the time. Introducing themselves seemed to relax them a little, and soon there were several conversations going on down the line of women.

  After a few minutes, Nielson stalked over. “Stop chattering!” he snapped. “Next girl who talks spends the night in my rack with me.” He looked at each of them with a hard glint in his eyes.

  Talia waited until Nielson left and then let out a low, frustrated groan. That guy was a first-class ass. She tipped her head from side to side, trying to work out some of the kinks in her stiff neck and shoulders. What she would give for a hot shower and warm, dry clothes. Or even just the freedom to move her arms around. She had the knife, but it wasn’t the right time to cut her bonds. Not just yet. If one of the men discovered her bonds had been sliced, she’d probably lose the knife, and maybe worse.

  Her mind was starting to get fuzzy from fatigue, spent adrenaline, freezing cold, and low blood sugar. Her mouth felt tacky with dehydration. She pulled her knees up toward her chest and wearily rested her cheek on top of one kneecap, her head turned toward the control area. Ballard was standing at one of the monitors doing something, from here she couldn’t tell what. None of the men wore shirts, yet they didn’t seem at all uncomfortable in the cold interior of the dome. Maybe it was those wetsuit pants that kept them warm enough.

  She turned her gaze to Not-Lee’s legs, just a few feet away. Watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, she could see the contours of his well-developed quads and calves as well as if he wore nothing. Like all of the other men, he was broad-shouldered and very muscular on top, with a lean waist and well-toned legs. All of the men had the V shape that serious swimmers developed after years of training.

  She squinted at Not-Lee’s ankle, where the texture of his skin-tight pants was definitely different than farther up his legs. Around the thighs, the texture was bumpier, actually kind of scaly looking, as Janelle had insisted. From the knees down, the texture blended from scaly into more striated patterns.

  As she watched, an edge of material lifted from Not-Lee’s lower right shin. It seemed to twitch before it curved around his ankle and sealed itself to his leg again. He reached down to scratch at the spot. Talia raised her head and blinked hard. That had looked an awful lot like the edge of a fin. She drew a sharp breath in through her nose, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. The stress and exhaustion must be getting to her.

  “I could real
ly go for a handful of aspirin, a gooey calzone, and a soft pillow right now,” Janelle whispered without moving her mouth.

  Talia clamped her teeth down on her lips to keep from bursting out in a very uncharacteristic fit of giggles that was trying to bubble up her throat. Yes, the exhaustion was definitely making her loopy. She must have been imagining things as she’d zoned out for a few moments. Her stomach growled and she hunched over it, trying to quiet the reminder that it had been a very long time since she’d eaten.

  When the men by the control area started shifting around and the captain moved close to Nielson, who was wearing his headset again, Talia bumped Janelle with her elbow and tilted her head at the men. “Something’s happening. Must be time to get on the submarine,” she whispered.

  The guards told the women to stand along the wall, and Talia gritted her teeth as she pushed her cold, protesting muscles into motion. She hid her hands in the folds of her sarong, hoping the guards wouldn’t see the pouch on her wrist that now contained Ballard’s knife. Not confident she could keep it hidden, she put her back to the wall, slid the pouch’s cord off her wrist, and tucked the pouch into the back of her bikini bottom and made sure the sarong covered the lump.

  It felt like she’d been wearing this bikini for days. The fabric had dried against her skin, the salty residue making the areas under the elastic bands itch. If she ever got out of here, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to put on a swimsuit again. But, she should probably be more grateful—at least she hadn’t lost parts of her suit in the ocean like a couple of the other women. She noticed that someone had taken pity on the poor naked girl and given her a little pale pink terry skirt that must have been worn as a cover-up. She grimaced and exhaled a long breath. What a nightmare this spring break had turned out to be.

  With a hiss of releasing air pressure, a round section of the wall popped open, revealing a doorway out of the dome. The captain and the others who’d been working near him went through first, and then several guards led the women out after them, with a few men going last.