Dreams of the Damned

by Lindsey Sparks

  The guards led Hades into a hallway that branched around to the side of the building, then through a pair of tall wooden doors from a quartet set in the wall on our left. This time, I slipped in ahead of the guards and Hades, stepping off to the side to move out of their path.

  The chamber beyond was cavernous, the centerpiece being the huge white oak horseshoe-shaped table filling the middle of the floor. Dozens of important looking people sat both at the table and in the two rows of chairs set up behind those at the table. Red, theater-style seating sloped upward from the open end of the horseshoe table, though all those seats were empty save for the two in the front, occupied by Emi and Raiden. My mom and Henry sat at a small table that had been set up near the opening of the larger table. From the looks of it, my mom had scooted her chair as far from Henry’s as possible. Two more guards stood sentry at the quartet of doors set in the opposite wall. The air was thick with an unsettling cocktail of emotions: anxiety and fear, excitement and skepticism, and the underlying thread of greed.

  All eyes locked on Hades as he entered the chamber, and the greed wafting off the Security Council and their assistants ratcheted up a notch. The spike of excited interest as hungry stares latched onto Hades set my teeth on edge. He was an object to them. A curiosity. A thing.

  Tension coiled in my muscles, and I clenched my jaw, my nostril flaring.

  Hades stopped three steps into the room, and his escort of guards fanned out to either side of him. He stood tall and proud, playing the part of the alien prince to perfection. The skepticism I had sensed only moments ago faded in the face of his otherness.

  A delegate seated near the middle of the horseshoe table stood, a petite middle-aged woman with dark hair and shadowed eyes, followed by the rest of the delegates in a wave. The assistants and advisors seated behind them followed suit. Henry stood as well, his eyes gleaming and greedy as he stared at Hades, though my mom remained seated.

  “Welcome, Mr. Hades,” the petite brunette delegate intoned, her English accented by her native tongue, which I was fairly certain was Russian. A quick peek into her mind confirmed my guess.

  One of the assistants seated in the second row carried a chair to the opening of the horseshoe table and set it directly in front of my mom’s smaller table.

  The Russian delegate gestured to the chair with a sweep of her arm. “Please, come forward and take a seat.” She smiled, though her eyes remained guarded. “As I’m sure you can imagine, we have many questions for you.”

  Hades crossed the room, heading for the designated chair, but stopped beside the smaller table and stared down his nose at Henry. “Henry Magnusson, I presume?” Hades said, his voice razor sharp. He knew well enough what had become of the Custodes Veritatis, an organization he had set up nearly three thousand years ago to help guide humanity toward a brighter future—one that would allow for a reemergence of the Olympian species. How far the ancient organization had fallen, their purpose grossly warped by time and human greed.

  It was impossible to pick out Henry’s emotions from the rest of the crowd without dipping into his mind, and I couldn’t risk him sensing my presence. He had felt my psychic touch before, and there was a good chance he would recognize it again. Not that I would have needed psychic gifts to read him right now. His awe at being addressed by name not just by an Olympian, but by the creator of the group to which he had devoted his life was written across his face.

  Hades shook his head and sniffed a laugh. “I had such high hopes for your organization,” he said, his words dripping with disapproval.

  The color drained from Henry’s face along with his awe.

  “You are my greatest disappointment,” Hades added before continuing toward the chair, leaving Henry to stare after him, shaken to the core.

  I smirked. Served him right, the douche.

  Hades sat, turning the simple blue chair into a throne. All around him, the humans regained their seats, as well.

  I surveyed the room once more, weighing the emotions of all in attendance and sampling the surface thoughts of a few of the delegates seated at the horseshoe table. So far, so good. Nobody was planning anything that would harm Hades or my mom, Emi, and Raiden. Still, I silently drew my doru from the sheath on my back and extended it to full length, just in case.

  “Mr. Hades,” the Russian delegate began.

  “Prince Hades . . . of Olympus,” Hades corrected the woman, bowing his head in greeting. “At your service.”

  The Russian delegate cleared her throat, exchanged uncertain looks with the surrounding delegates, and flashed Hades an uncertain smile. “Prince Hades—”

  “But you may call me 'Hades',” he interrupted with a charming curve of his lips.

  The Russian delegate blushed, and a few of the other delegates tittered. The Russian delegate cleared her throat. “Hades,” she began, “my name is Irina Petrov. I am the president of the Security Council, and I will be leading this interview.” She licked her lips. “We understand that you are among the last of your kind—you and one called ‘Persephone’ who was raised as a human by Ms. Blackthorn, seated behind you. Is this correct?”

  “On this planet, yes, we are the last of our kind,” Hades confirmed. “Though the minds of many more of my people reside in a safe location here on Earth.”

  “And where is that, exactly?” Irina asked.

  Hades took his time in responding. He inhaled, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I believe that Ms. Blackthorn has already explained the situation to you,” he started, “and to rehash all that has already been covered would be a great waste of time, both yours and mine.” He paused, surveying the faces of the delegates seated around the long, curved table. “The matter of the Tsakali threat is quite urgent. If you are not prepared to discuss strategy, then I must consider this planet a lost cause and be on my way. If you are unwilling to cooperate, I cannot save your people, but I can still save mine.”

  Outrage overwhelmed all other emotions in the room, and the delegates burst into hushed admonishments and urgent side conversations.

  Irina banged her gavel on the stand on the table in front of her three times, and the room quieted. She flashed Hades a tight-lipped smile. “We understand that these ‘Tsakali’ are your ancient enemy and that they drove you and your people away from your home planet some . . .” She flipped through the notepad on the table in front of her “Thirteen thousand years ago.”

  Hades nodded once. “That is correct.”

  Irina released the pages of her notepad, letting them fall back in place. “Then it stands to reason that you have drawn them here, as you are the common element.”

  I rolled my eyes. She was wasting time and energy with this line of questioning.

  “That is incorrect,” Hades said, his voice even. “You have drawn them here by dabbling in forces you do not understand. You created a chaos stone—what you call the Atlantea Project—alerting the Tsakali to your existence, and now they are coming for you.”

  Irina bristled. “You must give us access to your technology so we may prepare for the coming invasion.”

  Hades laughed, deep and booming, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. “Invasion?” he said, shaking his head as he straightened in his chair. “No, this will not be an invasion. It will be an annihilation. You cannot fight them. You will not win. But you are right about one thing—you need my people’s technology. Your only hope at survival is to give me the chaos stone so I might search the lost Olympian colonies for the weapon my people created after our world was destroyed. Only that can defeat the Tsakali.”

  I frowned to myself, appreciating the clever lie. No such weapon existed.

  “With your current technology,” Hades continued, “you will not stand a chance against them. Without our weapon, once they arrive, you are already dead.”

  Irina’s stare had hardened as Hades spoke. She drew herself up to her full seated height. “Simply because your people could not beat them does not mean we
cannot.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps this is all a ruse, and the invading force is led by your own people, and this ‘chaos stone’ as you call it is the only way for us to defend ourselves from your people. For all we know, you are the enemy at the gates. We have no reason to trust you.”

  I cringed, hating her logic but understanding it, nonetheless.

  Hades tilted his head to the side, acknowledging the merit of her argument. “If you do not trust me,” Hades told her, “you will die.”

  Irina stiffened, and the undercurrent of fear wafting through the room increased until it was the dominant emotion. Delegates and assistants shifted in their seats. Tense looks were exchanged, along with a few hushed words.

  “Is that a threat?” Irina asked Hades.

  He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Merely a statement of truth. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less about the humans of this planet. You have let me down time and time again. If I were to have my way, I would take what remains of my people and leave you to your fate.” He fell quiet, letting the conviction in his words sink in. “But it is not only up to me, and Persephone has a soft spot for humanity. We will help you if we can. I have promised her that much. But to do that, we need the chaos stone.”

  I drew in a deep breath and held it in the sudden silence filling the room. Hades was playing hardball, attempting to stiff-arm the Security Council into giving him what he wanted. His strategy was either brilliant, or absolute rubbish, and I honestly wasn’t sure how it would play out.

  Irina stared at Hades, visibly flustered by the frank admission of his outright disregard for human life.

  Henry pushed back his chair and stood, drawing the delegates’ focus from Hades to him. “Offer them collateral,” he said.

  Hades turned his head to peer over his shoulder at the Primicerius of the Custodes Veritatis.

  “Offer them collateral,” Henry repeated, “and perhaps they will trust you.” He clasped his hands together behind his back. “Give up the location of where you are storing what remains of your people, and this council may consider your request for access to the chaos stone.”

  “Never,” Hades hissed, standing abruptly.

  Irina raised a hand, signaling for the guards to move in closer. “Please sit down, Hades,” she said, more of a command than a request. “We cannot allow you to leave until our negotiations have reached a satisfactory conclusion.”

  “I am done negotiating,” Hades informed her, straightening his gleaming tunic. He started toward the doors through which we had entered the chamber.

  “No, you’re not,” Irina said. “Detain him!”

  Two of the guards who had escorted us into the chamber closed in on Hades, taking hold of his arms and wrenching them behind his back. The pain in his shoulders forced Hades to bend forward.

  My mom jumped to her feet, her chair toppling over backward. “What are you doing?” she shouted. She started around the table, heading for Hades.

  Another guard swooped in on her, yanking her back a few steps with his tight grip on her arm.

  Emi and Raiden stood, preparing to do something really stupid.

  Irina’s lips spread into a predatory grin. “You will find that we mere humans can be quite resourceful when backed into a corner, Prince Hades,” she said, her voice hard. “It would have been easier if you had cooperated willingly, but we have other ways of getting the information we need.”

  “Are you crazy?” my mom screeched, fighting against her guard’s hold. “He’s trying to help you.”

  “Desperate times, Ms. Blackthorn,” Irina said, not taking her eyes off Hades.

  I rushed forward, sneaking into the space at the center of the horseshoe table, and settled into a defensive stance. I created a telepathic link with Hades, my mom, Emi, and Raiden. “When I say ‘now’, drop to the floor,” I told them in their minds. With a thought, I made myself visible and loosed a muted energy blast at the mural on the wall behind Irina.

  For a single heartbeat, everyone in the chamber froze, their attention shifting to me.

  “Now!” I shouted before the panic of being under attack could set in and the guards could regroup and retaliate.

  Emi and Raiden dropped to the floor unheeded, covering the backs of their heads with their hands. The guards holding onto my mom and Hades were too shocked by my energy blast to stop either of them from dropping.

  I slammed the butt of the doru onto the floor, sending out a psychic shock wave at waist height that would temporarily stun every person it struck.

  Bodies fell to the floor all around the room, and the four people still conscious cautiously raised their heads and peered around.

  I hurried over to Hades, grabbing his arm and yanking him up to his feet. “Let’s go!”

  9

  We raced back to the Argo, reaching the ship just as shouts erupted from across the Parc de l’Ariana. Either the stunned guards from the Security Council chamber had remarkable recovery time, or one had roused enough to call in reinforcements and send them after us.

  Hades used his holoband to lead us directly to the Argo’s loading ramp, and we trailed behind him into the ship, heartbeats hammering as we dragged in lungfuls of air. Fiona and Meg stood off to the side of the loading ramp, eyes opened wide as they watched our calamitous return.

  My mom brushed her hair out of her sweaty face and let out a breathy laugh. She leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees, and shook her head. “So much for diplomacy . . .”

  Hades rounded on me, anger pulsing from him in waves. “That was completely unnecessary,” he said, his voice raised.

  I held his stare, collapsing the doru and tucking it into the sheath on my back before activating my regulator to shut out his volatile emotions. “I disagree,” I snapped.

  “You may have ruined any chance we had for diplomatic relations with that stunt,” he went on, a vein bulging in his forehead.

  “Looked to me like you were doing that all on your own.” Anger surged within me, rising to meet his. I walked past him to slap my hand against the switch that would manually raise the loading ramp. I planted one hand on my hip and turned to face him, vaguely aware of the others shrinking back as they watched the confrontation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have said this was what you wanted all along—an excuse to abandon this planet and focus on saving the Olympians.”

  Hades fumed, his nostrils flaring, and he marched toward me.

  I raised one eyebrow, not the least bit intimidated.

  “I gave you my word I would help the humans,” he said, looming over me. “Why do you still doubt me?”

  My resolve stumbled, and my hand slipped from my hip. “What would you have had me do?” I asked, my voice softening as my anger dissipated, revealing the true source of my intense response—fear. “Just let them take you?” I searched his icy stare, trying to understand. “They would have tortured you and dissected you and done all kinds of horrible things to you, and I—” I swallowed roughly, shaking my head. Didn’t he get that he was one of the people I would do anything to protect? “I couldn’t just stand by and let that happen.”

  Hades seemed to deflate on his next exhale. “I could have reasoned with them,” he said, smoothing back the few strands of silver-blond hair that had escaped from the tie at the nape of his neck. “They are frightened, and when humans are frightened, they act irrationally. In time, their rational minds would have taken over. Allowing them the appearance of having the upper hand would have expedited that process.”

  My hands balled into fists as his words coaxed fresh anger from the dying embers. I threw my head back and growled in frustration, blowing off some steam before lifting my head to glare at him. “You could have shared your plan with me,” I said, gritting my teeth. “But you would never do that because you always think you know what's best.”

  “Because I usually do,” he said, his cheek twitching. I would have sworn he was fighting a smile, the smug bastard.

  “Not this tim
e.” I snapped. “You may have studied humans over the millennia, but I lived among them—as one of them—and there is no bargain you could have made that would have been enough.” I took a small step closer, tilting my head back to stare Hades straight in the eye. “They’re facing extinction, Hades. Their survival instincts are kicking in. Their rational minds are gone. We don't have time for you to play captive. Everyone on this planet is going to die—human, Olympian, everyone—unless we do something about it now.”

  “We could have worked with them,” Hades said, holding his ground, though some of the certainty had left his voice, and his statement sounded a lot like a question. “Worked together,” he added.

  I laugh under my breath and shook my head, looking past my mom and Emi toward the windshield at the front of the ship to watch the people milling around in the park, going about their day. “No,” I said. “We could have let them use us.” I sighed, suddenly exhausted. “They would have used us up until there was nothing left of us.”

  I made my way up to the front of the ship and gripped the top of my seatback as I watched the armed guards search the grounds. They couldn’t see the ship, but it was only a matter of time until one of them stumbled upon it through sheer dumb luck.

  “I've already sacrificed myself to save this planet once before,” I said, my voice distant, “and it didn't change a damn thing. We're right back where we started.” I bowed my head, my grip on the seatback tightening until the color bleached from my knuckles. “I won't let you do the same thing. We do this together, Hades, or we don't do it at all.”

  Tense silence filled the ship. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I knew without looking that it belonged to my mom.