Undone: The Dark Skies Trilogy

by Lysa Daley

  He frowns, leveling a serious gaze at me. “Except, what if there isn’t a later?”

  “Don’t talk like that.” I shake my head in disbelief that he would even suggest such a thing. He might as well have slapped me across the face because I’m pretty sure it would have stung less. No one has posed the possibility of failure. Not to me, at least. It’s an unspoken concept that should definitely remain unspoken.

  “I’m sorry…” His playful tone takes a serious turn. “It’s just… I have something I want to say to you, and I don’t want to regret it if I never get the chance.”

  “Well, you’re just going to have to take your chances and wait,” I say, ending the conversation by spinning away from him.

  But before I can get away, he grabs my arm, gently turning me back around. “Then at least let me say that I’m here for you. I’m really, really here for you. From the moment we met… No, actually it began before I even met you, I pledged my honor to protect one of the Sisters of Light. And now that I've gotten to know you, Astrid Jones, I’ll be here for you in the future.” He pauses like he’s trying to read my reaction. “All you have to do is let me know.”

  I can only look at him and nod. “Thanks.”

  He releases my wrist and walks back toward the neat pile of scuba gear stacked on the back deck that’s currently being checked and double-checked by Tyler and Jake.

  I don’t know why I can’t seem to form any sentences that are longer than a single word. Nothing will come out of my mouth.

  That doesn’t mean I’m not incredibly touched by what he said. But with everything going on, I just can’t open my mind to consider what Jax means to me — what he could mean to me down the road if we somehow live through all of this — and what that kiss meant.

  I have to stay focused on the mission at hand and nothing else.

  “Let’s get ready,” my uncle says, approaching from the aft.

  “I thought we were trying to get farther away from shore?”

  “We’re racing the weather at this point,” he explains, gesturing back in the direction from which we just came. The mist and fog and blowing snow make visibility nearly impossible. “The one positive thing from this godforsaken weather is that it’s given us a natural veil from any prying eyes back on land.”

  I squint toward the shoreline, but I can barely see ten yards off the back of the boat.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, focusing on me with such a serious expression that it’s making me anxious.

  I’ve been asked that question — are you ready — several times over the last six months. Usually, someone throws it out as I stand on the precipice of a gravely dangerous situation in which my life teeters in the balance - of which there have been many since I came to discover my true identity.

  My stock answer to this question has previously been met with a tight-lipped smile and a breezy, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  But this time, with so much at stake for so many on this planet; with the fate of everyone I know personally on the line; with the fate of the rest of my little insignificant existence riding on the outcome, I have a different answer.

  I look my uncle dead square in the eyes and proclaim, “I was born ready.”

  Chapter 49

  I’m not wearing a protective wetsuit. Instead, I have only a mask, aerodynamic flippers, the explosive-filled backpack and my speedo as I jump feet first down into the narrow break in the ice, splashing into the black water of Cami Lake.

  I’ve been outfitted with a dark gray, full body tank suit made out of regular old swimsuit material. It’s more about camouflage and ease of movement than it is about warmth.

  Still, I’m a little nervous wearing a backpack that can blow up. I guess I’m just funny that way.

  In order to activate the 15 second fuse, I have to pull an orange ripcord that is currently tightly secured to the side panel of the pack.

  Because of the gale force winds, the wicked current is working against me. The unrelenting pounding of the swells immediately pushes me first in one direction, then in the opposite.

  Right before I jumped in, my uncle attempted to make me feel better about the situation by explaining, “As soon as you’re in the water, the waves are going to lash out at you. That means the sooner you can get below the surface the less of an effect they will have on you.”

  He’s right. Almost immediately, I’m overwhelmed by the rising and falling waves. It’s disorienting. Feeling anxiety, I swallow a mouthful of cold brackish lake water, coughing out most of it.

  A few seconds later, Jax leaps in next to me. This only increases my sense of claustrophobia. I’m utterly seized with panic.

  I have two choices: abort the mission right now or suck it up and dive under water.

  I must get under the surface as quickly as possible. Somersaulting around, I kick up my feet to push myself down deeper. The gray-white winter sky vanishes as the never-ending pool of water spreads out before me.

  While the erratic force of the waves is gone, I’m now assaulted by a barrage of bubbles circling me from my own breathing apparatus. Once I kick my way down, ten feet, fifteen feet, twenty, they rise up in an orderly line. I’m soon met by an unexpected sense of calm.

  Jax follows closely behind me.

  His graceful, effortless movements annoy me as I awkwardly struggle to swim with the backpack on.

  There’s nothing around but the dark lake water and the occasional large trout gliding past. Their long bodies with their flattened fish heads make them look almost alien. Still, they seem more startled by us than we are of them.

  Eventually, my racing heart quiets to a normal rate, and my breathing falls into a more regular pattern. The water is cold. I know it’s supposed to be just above freezing. But similarly to when I was in the cold waters of the Atlantic, the temperature is perfectly comfortable to me.

  Once we’re past the thirty-foot depth, all the light from above seeps away leaving nothing but a silent black world void of any visible life.

  Jax, who’s considerably more covered than me in his black neoprene wetsuit, still looks cold. It’s so bulky that when I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, he almost resembles a seal.

  We’ve both been fitted with tiny, waterproof earpieces that allow us to communicate. It’s a short range system that only works if we’re within ten yards of each other. It was designed that way so that no unwanted ears could listen into our conversation.

  This also means that we have radio silence with the surface. We will get no intel or instructions from the team floating above us on La Barbara Jean.

  We’re on our own.

  Still, we need to keep our communications to a minimum. Just in case.

  Jax swims up next to me. I see the bright oval of his face through his large dive mask. He bobs his head as if to ask are you okay?

  I nod an affirmative in return.

  We have a good long swim in front of us. Nearly a mile. Jax will timeshift us closer. We still have to do the work of traveling that mile, but the drag from the water will be drastically diminished by the timeshift.

  According to him, it will be more like traveling with a strong current at your back, as opposed to swimming against it.

  “Here we go.” He breaks the silence, reaching for me. “Take my hand.”

  As soon as our hands touch, we merge into the Arcturian timeshift. It’s like the water stops being water and becomes nothing more than a light breeze losing all of its heaviness and drag.

  We move at an easy pace, with the icy surface just visible above us. I do the navigating with an electronic compass and range finder.

  Just like timeshifting out of the water, it looks like the whole world has slowed to a stop.

  Traveling deeper into the lake, we pass several schools of fish that seem frozen in time. This is a good sign. We were told that they’re attracted to the warmth radiating off the brain.

  The closer we get to the approximate location of the brain,
we begin to hear a strange low frequency buzzing. Along with an erratic thumping.

  The thumping has me concerned.

  “What’s that crazy sound?” I ask Jax.

  “That sound is over a million electronic signals from all over the planet converging in one single place,” Jax replies. “Each of those signals is coming from a person. An individual who’s been turned into a Horlock.”

  The closer we get to the buzzing, the louder the sound becomes. At the same time, the water temperature continues to warm more and more rapidly.

  I guess this all means we’re heading the right way.

  But something else is bothering me, “When will we see these alien sea monsters?”

  I’ve been on edge ever since they were described as giant two-headed sharks.

  “The Red Gorbins will probably be closer to the brain. I would guess they’ll be circling directly around it,” Jax explains as we continue to slowly advance through the water while keeping a vigilant eye on our surroundings.

  Jax has two primary responsibilities on this mission. The first is to attack and kill anything that tries to hinder our objective. Since we know the Gorbins will be here, he has a backpack full of weapons, not to mention the two plasma guns attached to his waist.

  His second priority is to attempt to complete the mission if I fail. He was instructed to prioritize the placement of the explosive-filled backpack into the thermal oscillator over protecting or saving me - if the two were to come into conflict with each other.

  Let’s hope that isn’t an issue.

  The deeper we go, the murkier the water gets and the less visibility we have. But even in the darkening water, we catch our first glimpse of the brain from a surprisingly long way away. Probably 200 yards.

  And that’s pretty far away under water.

  This only speaks to the massive size of the alien brain. It looks exactly like Fitz predicted it would. It’s less formed than what you think a human brain looks like. It’s just a massive translucent blob with an uncountable number of glowing threadlike lines running through it. A sickly green light seems to pulse at an uneven rhythmic rate.

  Three monstrous sea creatures are immediately visible circling the brain. They all have two heads. It’s the Gorbins. And they’re bigger and scarier than I imagined. They look like they could bite you in half and swallow both pieces in one easy gulp.

  If they see us in the water, they don’t make any effort to come toward us. Even as we get closer and closer.

  “They don’t seem bothered by us at all,” I say.

  “Don’t worry,” Jax replies. “If we get too close, I’m sure they’ll be a whole lot more interested in us.”

  We were told our weapons wouldn't work against them. Much like Earthly weapons won’t harm Tom.

  “It might slow the Gorbins down a bit,” Fitz said to us moments before we jumped into the winter waters of Cami Lake. “But that’s it. We’re hoping Tom will appear. That should help equalize the situation.”

  “Do you think Tom can fight underwater? I mean, do we even know if he can swim?” I asked the room of advisers.

  “We don’t know for sure.” My uncle nodded. “But I can’t see why water would hinder him. We just have to hope he appears when you need him.”

  That’s the thing about Valerian Drolgons. They pretty much keep to their own agenda. Every time I’ve needed Tom, he has appeared. Even a few times when I didn’t realize I needed him. But I don’t have any way to summon him.

  Tom shows up when Tom feels like it.

  Slowly, we continue our advance. If the Gorbins have taken notice of us, it isn’t apparent.”

  We don’t get much farther before one of the Gorbins finally seems interested in us. One of his big heads turns our way, and he slows his pace.

  “Uh oh,” Jax whistles. “So much for a sneak attack.”

  The Gorbins second head now focuses on us as well. It diverts course and heads toward us.

  “We’re dead in the water,” I say, watching the monster bear down on us.

  Just then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a massive creature speeds past us. Despite its enormous size, the creature is sleek and graceful in the water. Three smaller, but identical beasts, trail behind the first.

  It’s Tom! In his alien form. Along with his children.

  Chapter 50

  “That a boy!” Jax whoops, cheering on the four Drolgons.

  Our odds of success just got a whole lot better.

  “Now it’s four against three,” I say. “How in the world does Tom always know where I am?”

  Jax, who’s day job is as a veterinarian and our resident alien monster expert, says, “He’s bound to protect you. He’s probably always closer than you think. He can be as small as a flea or as large as his current size.”

  The problem with that is that the Gorbins at easily three times the size of Tom and his much smaller family. But as Tom swims closer, I see that he is increasing his size until he is actually larger than the Gorbins.

  “Whoa!” Jax stares open mouthed and amazed. “I guess he can grow to the size of his environment.”

  “In 5th grade, my teacher said that our classroom goldfish could grow to the size of his tank. Tom can apparently do the same.”

  “It sure looks like it,” Jax replies.

  “Uh oh.” He points north of the brain. “This is not good.”

  The Crimson Lord, Ciakar Rigel, has appeared. Just the sight of him, even at this distance, is terrifying.

  “He’s been waiting for us,” Jax adds.

  He is underwater with no visible breathing mechanism.

  “Can he breathe underwater?” I ask.

  “The Draconians are like an amphibious race. They process oxygen through their skin. He can pull it from the water. They’re known to be extremely strong swimmers.”

  “Is he alone?” I ask looking around expecting to see an army of water breathing Draconian warriors right behind him.

  But there are none.

  “It’s the prophecy.” Jax has an answer ready. “The prophecy foretells that the final battle will be won by the one who defeats all of the seven sisters. He doesn’t want to take a chance that someone else will…um, do the honors.”

  And by - do the honors - he means kill me. The last living sister.

  “We need to split up,” Jax says, as he starts to swim directly toward the Crimson Lord. He’s preparing to do battle against this monster.

  “No!” I reply, fear filling me. “We’re stronger together.”

  He continues to swim, his voice breaking up as he nears the edge of our communication range. “We’re more efficient apart. Get the explosives to the brain. That’s why we’re here.”

  Jax prepares to go head to head with the Crimson Lord as I try to swim closer.

  At first, the Gorbins ignore me. They’re creepy to watch because each of their two heads swivels in different directions. Definitely doubly effective but still weird.

  It’s as if they don’t even see me. But once I’m within perhaps 100 feet, the closest Gorbin turns both heads in my direction - both of them. It immediately diverts course swimming directly toward me.

  We knew the Gorbins would be here, so I have been sent with what amounts to a giant stun gun. It won’t kill the alien sea monsters, but it should slow them down.

  I just need enough time to get the explosives planted and then get away.

  I glance over just in time to see the Crimson Lord aim and fire at Jax. Like the other alien guns I’ve seen, this one also fires a form of plasma energy. However, it’s not the familiar deep purple. The plasma from the Crimson Lord’s weapon comes out as a swirling, smoky black. As it streams toward Jax, it roils and curls like the embodiment of liquid evil.

  Luckily, Jax gives him the slip by timeshifting out of the line of fire. One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone, reappearing a short distance away.

  The Draconian fires again. Jax evades a second time.

  This conti
nues until finally the Crimson Lord anticipates Jax’s shift. He points his plasma blaster in front of Jax firing at seemingly nothing.

  But Jax doesn’t realize what the Crimson Lord is doing. I want to scream a warning, but it’s already too late. My mouth helplessly hangs open as I wait and watch with wide eyes.

  An instant later, Jax fades back into view. He’s clearly been struck by the plasma as his limp body slowly sinks.

  “Jax!” I cry out.

  This has the unwanted effect of drawing the Crimson Lord’s attention. At the sound of my voice, he immediately turns his focus toward me.

  I don’t have much time.

  Tom and the three other Drolgons keep the Gorbins busy.

  I pull BrightSky from the holster at my waist. Even though she’s cloaked as a small diving knife, the hilt still fits perfectly in my hand, just like the full sword.

  Fighting the drag from the water, I swing the short blade up and around my head, hoping to uncloak it. I’m afraid that the drag from the icy water will slow us down too much, and stop her transformation.

  But much to my surprise, I feel no drag at all. It’s like slicing through warm butter.

  Which is a good thing because just as the full-size sword comes around in front of me, a blast of alien plasma streams toward me from the Crimson Lord’s blaster.

  I jerk my hand in the general direction of the black plasma. In symbiotic response, the sword also positions itself to deflect the energy.

  In the past, BrightSky has acted like some harbinger of instant karma, sending whatever is shot at me directly back toward the perpetrator.

  And, as before, the plasma bounces off the blade of my sword ricocheting right back in the direction of the huge Draconian.

  It can’t be this easy to defeat him?

  But the Crimson Lord is as nimble in the water as a dolphin. He easily moves out of the path of the plasma.

  Then he somehow diverts the stream of deadly plasma right back at me for a second time.

  I’m not sure I can react quickly enough as the black energy screams toward me, slicing through the water.