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

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  “Stocked?”

  “With humans and with the genomic samples of every possible animal and plant species we could salvage, but for all our efforts, we saved only a fraction, less than fifteen percent of known species. The rest perished, as far as we know.”

  “There’s nothing alive out here?”

  “Nothing you care to run into, human,” she said with a sneer.

  “And it’s been like this for a thousand years?”

  She glanced around. “It has improved. According to Phillip’s studies, the air is breathable now, and it is not nearly as frigid at night. In time, perhaps you humans can return to your planet, and we’ll be rid of this burden.”

  “Is there no joy in your responsibility?”

  She looked pointedly at Khiarra. “Is there in yours?”

  He looked at his wide-eyed sister who was staring at Ashra with awe. “Yes, when there is love, there can be more than the tedium of duty.”

  She shrugged. “Well, you wanted to be free of us, and now you are. Enjoy your life, Jaden Hunter. You have two hours to sunrise.”

  “Ashra, wait. Damn it.” The powerful beating of wings swallowed his curse. Ashra vanished, a pale streak of silver against the night sky. Why save us from the fall if you’re going to leave us to die?

  Khiarra tugged at his pants. “Jaden, I’m afraid. Where are we?”

  “Outside paradise.” He lifted her up. “We’ll have to find cover before the sun rises.”

  The glow of the moon offered enough light to see by, and Jaden could make out rocky crags in the distance. It was hard to gauge how far they were, but they were out of options. He shifted Khiarra around so that she could straddle his back. Her small arms wrapped around his neck. “Hold tight.”

  She squealed with delight. “It’s like a horse race around Lake Spiritus.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, it is.”

  He carried Khiarra’s slight weight and hurried through the night. The cool air whisked away the sweat of his exertions, though his muscles quivered, exhausted. As he neared, the outline of the rocky crags shifted into focus. Like the teeth of a predator, they cut through the canvas of the sky. He cast a glance at the horizon. It glowed orange. Heat radiated from the east. They were almost out of time.

  He looked at the sheer rock face. The handholds were few and far between. Gently, he shrugged Khiarra off his shoulders and tucked her into a crevice. “Stay here. I’m going ahead to find a safe path and a place to hide. I’ll be back for you.”

  She stared up at him. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll come back.”

  Khiarra pressed her mouth into a thin line, but did not manage to conceal the tremble of her lips.

  He stroked her head, and then with a leap, started up the rock face. His gaze searched ahead for ledges to use as footholds, but there were too few. Often, he had to press his palms against the surface and lean into it for sufficient purchase. Teeth gritted, he hauled himself up the rock, struggling for each hard-won inch. Knuckles bloody, he dragged himself over the top of the cliff. He sagged in exhaustion for a moment, and then raised his head to survey his surroundings. The top of the cliff was as barren as the ground below, but there was a cave set in the northern wall. It would be protected from the direct rays of the rising and setting sun.

  It would keep Khiarra safe for as long as the sun was in the sky. Then what? What about water and food? What could he find out here that the sun had not scorched?

  He pushed to his knees, but the motion was cut short when a pale figure soared from the cave, carried aloft by bat-like wings. An icrathari? It was short-haired; it was not Ashra, he was certain of that much, but what would another icrathari be doing out here?

  It had not noticed him. It quickly vanished out of sight, flying toward the west, toward Aeternae Noctis.

  Jaden pushed to his feet, reached over his back, and unsheathed his blades. He ground his teeth against the sharp pain rippling through his abdomen as his open wounds tugged and pulled against his clothing. Moving on silent feet, he closed the distance to the cave. He saw nothing and heard nothing, but instinct brought his arms up, his blades slashing outward. A snarl ripped the darkness as the black of the cave peeled back to reveal a demon no taller than the icrathari, but hideous where the icrathari was beautiful. Its skin was cracked, blackened by the sun, and its eyes glowed yellow, not the muted gold of Ashra’s eyes, but bright yellow. Its grin exposed fangs.

  It leapt for his throat.

  He parried the attack. His blade slid through the demon’s stomach. Blood the color of gold dripped from the open wound. The demon’s eyes narrowed; it shrugged as if dismissing its injury.

  From the darkness of the cave, two other demons emerged. With hisses of malicious glee, they threw themselves at him. Jaden spun, ducking beneath their slashing talons. His intensive training allowed him to survive the initial attack in spite of his injuries, but he screamed when one of them broke through his defenses, raking claws down his back and driving him to one knee. The metallic scent of blood filled the air.

  One of the demons licked its lips as it studied Jaden with an expression of wicked anticipation.

  Jaden pushed to his feet. Shafts of pain pulsed down his spine. His back muscles screamed in protest of the smallest movement, but his grip tightened on his blades. “Come on. I haven’t got all night.”

  With a sneer, the three demons pounced. He fought two off, his blade cleaving through a demon’s arm, but the third demon tore bloody gashes into his left arm. Jaden cursed, damning his weakness. His left hand was nearly useless, the muscles too damaged to wield his weapon. Instead, he hurled his right sword like a dagger—it pierced a demon’s wing—and then transferred his remaining sword from his left hand to his right. He had injured all three of them, at least once, but their injuries did not seem to faze them. They circled him, their darting gazes wary. As if in silent agreement, all three lunged at him simultaneously.

  He ducked, slashing up with his blade to slice through the chest of one of the demons. It collapsed, screeching, but the other two pounced on him, their talons tearing through skin and flesh. Pain, red hot, scored through him. Blinding white light fluttered across his vision, and then the attack vanished. The suffocating weight of strong limbs was lifted off him.

  Bewildered, he glanced up. Ashra had seized both of the demons by the scruff of their necks. She flung one away from her and ripped the head off the other demon before driving her claws through its stomach.

  When the demon she had cast away launched itself toward her, she disposed of it as easily as she killed the first. The third demon, wounded and faced with an icrathari, fled, its bat-like wings carrying it toward the east.

  Jaden dragged himself upright. Dread coiled through him. The glow on the horizon was more than just a glow. Sunrise was no more than minutes away. Khiarra!

  He leapt over the edge of the cliff, half-sliding, half-falling, all the way to the bottom. Khiarra rushed out of the crevice and threw herself into his arms. He bit back the groan of pain. “On my back, hurry, and wrap the towel over your head and body.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he began the climb up the cliff. His fingers were slick with blood, his left arm too badly injured to carry his weight and hers. Halfway up, he slipped, sliding several feet down the cliff face before catching on a ledge with his right hand. Teeth clenched, he glanced toward the east. He was out of time.

  “Jaden, it’s hot!” Khiarra wailed.

  “Stay under the towel.” The rock smoked beneath his fingers. He clambered up several more inches, but the edge of the cliff seemed too far away. His skin burned, peeling back to reveal red, raw flesh.

  Khiarra’s weight against his torn back disappeared. “Jaden!” she screamed, her voice coming from high in the air.

  He looked up, his eyes narrowed against the bright light. He could scarcely make out Khiarra clasped in an icrathari’s grip. Together, they vanished over the top of the ledge. Had Ashra taken Kh
iarra to the cave? He prayed so.

  His skin scalded from his sizzling flesh. Driven beyond pain, Jaden clawed his way over the top of the ledge. A powerful force snatched him up. He bit back the scream of agony at the contact. In a flurry of beating wings, light gave way to darkness. The punishing heat cooled enough for him to realize how much pain he was in.

  He raised his head, struggling to focus his blurred vision. Khiarra huddled in the darkness, tucked between two rocks. Sandaled white feet paced in front of him.

  “Fool.” Ashra’s voice spat out a curse.

  He pushed to his feet and stumbled toward Khiarra. “It’s all right,” he whispered, his tongue heavy in his mouth, the words distorted.

  Ashra’s hand clamped down on his uninjured arm. “Sit down before you pass out.”

  His gaze fell on her arm. Her pale skin was reddened from her fingertips to her exposed shoulders. Her white gown appeared scorched in places, as if held too close to the fire. He reached for her hand. “You’re hurt.”

  She turned her flinty golden gaze on him. “And you are mad.”

  What? He shook his head. Clear thought demanded more effort, more energy than his flagging body could spare. He refocused on her, but there was no water, no herbs, nothing that he could use to treat her burns. Helplessness, worse than the pain, rose up, suffocating him.

  “Did you see the icrathari?” She snapped out the terse question.

  He nodded.

  “Describe it.”

  “Too fast—”

  “But it was an icrathari.”

  He nodded. “Short hair…”

  She pulled her hand from his and turned her back on him to continue her restless pacing.

  Jaden leaned against the wall of the cave and staggered toward the entrance. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight. With every step, the heat inched from oppressive to intolerable. He winced, swallowing hard to drive saliva down his parched throat, and backed away from the entrance far enough where he thought he could handle the heat. Slowly, with pain leaving fiery trails along the length of his spine, he slumped to the ground, stretching his body in front of the entrance of the cave. Darkness crept over his vision, and dragged him down to sleep.

  Fool.

  Ashra had to come up with a more inventive insult. The word “fool,” though apt, was wearing thin after repeated applications. Ashra was both ancient and immortal, but he had been worried about her sunburn while apparently blind to the fact that his skin had peeled off his flesh. He had held her hand, apparently searching for ways to soothe her burn, while heedless of his crippled arm, torn back, and the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death.

  Wounded and dying, he had laid down just inside the entrance of the cave. Anyone trying to enter the cave would have to go through him. Did he actually think she needed his protection? More fool him.

  There was that word again.

  In sulky silence, she watched as his eyes closed and his erratic breaths evened out, deepening. He must have lost consciousness. She gritted her teeth against the unexpected pang in her chest. Sleep would dull his pain and ease him into death.

  Guilt and anger warred for the upper hand.

  She should not have tested him. What was one man’s ingenuity and determination against the inescapable heat of the sun? She should not have left him. She should not have soared high above the Earth, watching him, trusting her superior speed to return her to his side if the need arose.

  She had been too late. She had not anticipated the presence of the daevas. She had not counted on him risking his life by returning for his sister.

  The girl crept forward. “Jaden?”

  Ashra cast the child an indifferent glance. What an absurd amount of effort had gone into saving the girl. “Are you worth it?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

  Khiarra chewed on her lower lip and pressed against the wall. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked toward her brother. “Will he be all right?”

  Ashra listened; his breaths slowed, each one catching in his chest. She counted the moments between each one. Jaden would be dead within an hour, certainly no more. She turned her back on him. She would be trapped with a corpse and a mewling child for the better part of twelve hours, until the sun set once more and it was safe for her to leave the cave.

  Fool.

  Why did he take on the daevas? How could a human fight an immortal and survive? And why had he returned for his sister when he should have stayed safe in the cave? Seeing his skin crisp and flayed beneath the punishing rays of the sun—

  Ashra stared at her clenched fists. She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory that had seared into her psyche.

  It had been too much like watching Rohkeus burn.

  A light tug on the hem of her dress recalled her to the present. Small fingers wrapped around her fist. The muscles in her arm tightened, in part to keep herself from striking out at the child but as much to keep from relaxing, relenting.

  Khiarra did not leave. Her small hand stroked Ashra’s fist, the touch gentle and tender, like a child persuading a terrified pet to emerge from its hiding place under the bed.

  The touch and the heartfelt emotion behind it pierced Ashra’s immortal senses, but still, she did not look at the child.

  Khiarra’s voice quavered. “I love my brother. Please help him.”

  Ashra’s shoulders sagged with a sigh. “I cannot help him. My blood will poison him.” Her conversation with Lucas replayed in her mind. “Humans aren’t strong enough anymore.”

  “My brother is strong,” Khiarra pleaded. “Just a little, please?”

  A little?

  Ashra glanced over her shoulder. Humans were turned into vampires by draining all their blood and replacing it with a blend of vampire and icrathari blood. Jaden would never survive a full transfusion of pure icrathari blood—no human had since the apocalypse—but what if she did not drain him? What if she gave him a few drops of icrathari blood instead of replacing all of his with hers?

  The worst-case scenario was unlikely. A full transfusion of pure icrathari blood would turn a human into an elder vampire, the firstborn of an icrathari; only these days, they were called immortali—the immortal outcasts, driven insane by the infusion of raw power. The likelihood that Jaden would turn into an immortali was slim with just a few drops of her blood.

  Besides, even if the worst happened, what chance would a newborn immortali stand against the oldest and the strongest of the icrathari? If he showed any hints of madness, she would break his neck and disembowel him—splintering both his life and soul, prerequisites for slaying true immortals, like icrathari and daevas—setting Rohkeus’s spirit free once more.

  Ashra tugged her hand free of Khiarra’s, and to her surprise, felt the loss of its warmth. She cast the child a narrow-eyed glance, but Khiarra’s blue eyes were wide, the expression pleading, hopeful. The icrathari turned her back on Khiarra and knelt to gather Jaden into her arms. He seemed to weigh nothing at all. His skin was clammy, and his faltering heartbeat skittered against her chest.

  With a fingernail, she slit her wrist and held it above his mouth, counting the golden drops that trickled down her arm and dripped into his mouth. Too little would provide no aid, too much would kill. Five drops. Six. Come on, Jaden. Seven. Eight. Give me a sign. Nine. Ten—

  His throat worked. He drew in a single unsteady breath, his chest heaving from the effort. Jaden’s eyes flashed open.

  Ashra snatched her wrist back and pressed a hand to the open wound.

  He arched, his hands clawing at his throat as if poisoned. His eyes were so dilated that they appeared almost black in the dim light of the cave.

  Oh, blessed Creator, he was transforming, going mad. She had to kill him before—

  Khiarra dashed past her and seized Jaden’s hands. “It’s okay, Jaden,” she crooned, her voice choked with tears. “It’s the angel. She gave you medicine. She’s trying to help. You’re going to be okay.”

 
His gaze shifted and locked on his sister. His lips trembled. “Khiarra?” His eyes flicked past Khiarra’s shoulder to focus on Ashra. “Angel?”

  “Yes, she’s beautiful and good. She’s an angel. She saved our lives.”

  Ashra did not have the heart to correct Khiarra. Besides, her voice seemed to calm Jaden.

  Khiarra stroked his fevered forehead. “You can’t die. I need you. Daddy says you’re supposed to take care of me.” She swiped the tears from her eyes with delicate fingers and pressed them against Jaden’s cracked and bleeding lips.

  Ashra swallowed hard and looked away. Where there is love, there can be more than the tedium of duty. How did the humans, in all their foolishness, understand that fundamental truth, while the icrathari, ageless in wisdom, failed to comprehend?

  The terror-filled black of Jaden’s eyes conceded to gold-flecked green. The animal-like fear that she could smell rising from the pores on his skin dissipated. He slumped against the floor of the cave and his eyes closed. His heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm.

  With a shudder, Khiarra curled beside him and nestled into the warmth of his body.

  Ashra took a single step back. She stared at him, willing his body to heal. What good was her ancient and immortal blood if it could not save his life?

  Chapter Eight

  An hour passed, and then two. Khiarra had fallen asleep. Her tears left pale streaks on her small, dusty face. The sun continued on the way to its peak, and Ashra paused in her restless pacing to move Khiarra and Jaden into the back of the cave. The temperature deep in the cave was substantially cooler, though sweat still glistened on Khiarra and Jaden’s skin.

  Ashra turned to the light-drenched entrance of the cave. Even the icrathari had no place in the sun, yet somehow the daevas and the immortali survived outside the benevolent darkness of Aeternae Noctis. How? And who was the icrathari who had met with the daevas?

  If she had been flying lower, she might have caught a glimpse of more than pale skin and bat wings. If she hadn’t stopped to save Jaden and Khiarra’s lives, she could have caught up with the traitor icrathari. She arched her back and her rustling wings flared. There was no reason for any icrathari to parley with a daeva. What kind of treachery did she have to contend with?