Dreams of the Damned

by Lindsey Sparks

  Swallowing hard, I forced myself to nod and returned to staring at the wall of ice blocking the window. I couldn’t let myself sink too deeply into the hope that one day soon the Amazon tower would be teeming with my spearsisters once again. Hope could too easily become expectation, and expectation, disappointment.

  “Yeah,” I breathed. “Maybe.”

  After one last squeeze of my shoulder, my mom turned away from me and rounded up Raiden, Emi, and Meg, leading them out of the gephyra chamber and back to the spiral staircase. Hades, Fiona, and I followed them, but we headed down the stairs as they climbed back up the way we had come. We wound around and around the glass-encased lift until the staircase ended, and a solid, orichalcum-reinforced door panel blocked the landing beyond the foot of the stairs.

  Hades glanced at me over his shoulder and stepped out of the way, waving me forward.

  I extinguished my glowing ball of electric-blue energy but didn’t even bother drawing my doru. The intensity of the energy blast it would take to bust through the door was likely to damage the hallway beyond, and I didn’t think we wanted to risk blocking the passage to the mainframe. And honestly, I wasn’t even sure I was capable of creating such a powerful blast right now. Instead of brute force, I stepped forward and pressed my palms against the polished metal door, utilizing a subtler aspect of my psychic abilities.

  I closed my eyes and sent my awareness into the door, infusing the mechanisms within with threads of psychic energy. Slowly, holding my breath, I shifted my hands to the left, easing the door panel open. Such a telekinetic feat wouldn’t normally have taken so much concentration, but I was still drained from the battle with Henry, and tasks that should have been simple were currently just this side of doable.

  After winding through a warren of hallways and forcing our way through two more reinforced doors, we reached the mainframe, a sprawling, labyrinthine space filled with compartments housing dormant machinery. Hades led the way through the maze until we entered a circular clearing. Various machines and devices were scattered around the edge of the space, and a column of stone stood in the center.

  Hades made a beeline for the column and set the containment cube on the floor nearby before reaching out to slide a section of the column upward, revealing an opening the length of my forearm. Within sat the city’s power core, about the size of a football and covered in a thick layer of squat, greenish crystals.

  I moved closer, Fiona trailing behind me, and we both crouched down to get a closer look at the clearly damaged ancient battery. “What happened to it?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. This was the first real hint that time had damaged the city, beyond the slow invasion of the polar ice.

  “It looks corroded,” Fiona commented.

  “Indeed, it is,” Hades confirmed. “The humidity caused an internal malfunction within the power core. Regular maintenance would have prevented it, but . . .” Hades sighed, reaching into the opening and grasping either side of the power core. “It happened while I was asleep, and by the time I returned to check on things, the entire Alpha site was too far gone to do anything.” With a grunt and a jerk, he pulled the core free, squatting to set it on the floor near the containment cube. “But now, we have a chaos stone, and we’ll never have this issue again.”

  He opened the lid of the containment cube and lifted it up, turning toward me. “Would you do the honors?” He glanced off to the side of the space. “Otherwise I need to get the tongs.”

  I held out my hands, palms up, and drew on my reserves of psychic energy, coating my hands in a sizzling, electric-blue haze. I nodded to Hades, letting him know I was ready.

  Hades gently tilted the cube toward me, until the glowing, writhing chaos stone fell out, hovering an inch above my waiting hands. “All you need to do is place it in the empty receptacle,” he said, looking at the opening in the column.

  I swallowed, nodding again. Holding my breath, I carried the chaos stone closer to the column, my movements slow and precise. I reached my hands into the opening, then looked at Hades. “Just let it go?”

  Hades nodded. “Just let it go.”

  Exhaling slowly, I shifted my hands out from under the chaos stone. Once my hands were free of the opening, I released my psychic hold on the stone. It dropped into the receptacle, and suddenly, the entire column flared with light. The air hummed around us as the machinery and control panels throughout the vast mainframe powered up.

  Hades made his way over to a squat, round machine that reminded me of an old stone well. He started pressing buttons set into the outer rim of the device.

  Fiona, eyes opened wide to take it all in, followed him. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Power core generator,” Hades said, pushing a couple more buttons, then adjusting a dial. “We'll be able to construct a replacement for the Omega site.”

  Fiona’s brow furrowed as she watched Hades’ hands, and she raised her eyes to his face. “But I thought that was why we were heading off-world—to find parts to repair the power core in the Omega site?”

  I watched their conversation from afar, noticing how Hades was studiously not looking at Fiona. Or at me.

  “There are other parts we need to repair the Omega site,” Hades said, his focus on the power core generator a little too intent.

  Interest piqued, I skimmed the surface of his mind, knowing he wouldn’t sense such a gentle touch.

  “Parts I can't manufacture here,” Hades added, glancing over at me, lurking near the column.

  He was lying. And I could sense that he knew that I knew he was lying.

  Giving up the pretense of staying out of his mind, I delved deeper, until his plan became clear to me. We weren’t heading off-world to find parts to fix anything in the Omega site. We would be searching for a hail Mary—a ship that could transport all the Olympian consciousness orbs and preserved embryos held in the Omega site to some new world, along with as many humans as could fit. Because Hades didn’t believe there was any way to save this planet. He hadn’t shared his true mission with me because he had feared I wouldn’t agree to it, that I wouldn’t help him gain control of the chaos stone. And he refused to let my stubborn love of this planet bring about the final downfall of our people.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, equally angry and ashamed. Because Hades was probably right. I wouldn’t have agreed. And in so doing, I likely would have doomed us all.

  14

  I stood on the balcony at the top of the central tower, rested and rejuvenated, surveying the Alpha site. While I had slept, the softly glowing energy dome formed by the spire rising far above my head had pushed back the long encroaching ice to the edges of the settlement’s central island and was slowly working its way outward. I was surrounded by gleaming silver and white towers constructed with the swooping angles, arches, and spires distinct to Olympian architecture.

  Soon, the canal encircling the central island would be visible and would once again flow with water, generating enough power to run many of the city’s surface operations. After that, the industrial land ring would be unveiled, connected to the central island by graceful bridges, followed by the middle canal, then the agricultural land ring and the outer canal.

  The parts of the city that had been exposed looked exactly the same as I remembered them, almost like I had never left. But this place felt foreign and unfamiliar. When I had been here last, the city had been teeming with life—with Olympians, natural-born and engineered. Now, it was empty. Hollow. Dead.

  I leaned on the railing and closed my eyes, imagining the city as it had been so long ago. I recalled the streams of engineered Olympians moving around the city, those who had been created on the Tartarus, like me, rather than born back on Olympus before the Tsakali infected our people with the nano-virus that irrevocably tainted our genome and rendered us permanently infertile.

  We barely survived the war with the Tsakali. We had thrown everything we had at them—fought them with our most advanced weapons as well as th
e full force of our psychic warriors. And still, the Tsakali had nearly destroyed us. Knowing that, could I really be mad at Hades for deceiving me to ensure our people’s continued survival? I just wished he had trusted me with his true plan. That was the part that hurt the most.

  At the sound of footsteps behind me, I opened my eyes but didn’t turn around. My regulator was in its active amber state, suppressing my psychic senses. But I didn’t need to be able to read minds to know who was behind me. There was only one person currently in the Alpha site who would have known to find me up here, in my old favorite haunt, let alone how to get up to the top of the tower in the first place. Hades.

  His footsteps stopped a short way behind me. I figured he must have finished with Meg. I had checked on them in the Genetec tower—Hades' old domain—before coming up here. Hades finally had the necessary equipment up and running and was working his genetic magic on Meg, reversing her solar urticaria. She was already one hell of an asset to our team; once her deadly sun allergy was taken care of, she would be that much more valuable.

  “From up here, it almost looks like nothing has changed,” Hades said, his thoughts echoing mine from a moment ago.

  I stretched my arms out along the railing and bowed my head. “Everything has changed.”

  Hades took a single step closer. “Everything?”

  I thought back to the last time we were on this balcony together.

  * * *

  A hand curled around the back of my arm, and my eyes snapped open, training-turned-instinct driving my reaction. Not even five cycles of peace and inaction could tame the hard-earned instinct to fight from my body . . . even if this iteration of my body had never actually seen any real action.

  With my free arm, I reached over my shoulder to draw my doru from the holster on my back, already anticipating the hum of energy that would radiate up my arm the instant my fingers made contact with the carved length of polished, golden orichalcum.

  Fingers clasped onto my wrist, holding my hand in a steely grip. My fingertips stalled a hairsbreadth from the staff weapon.

  “Why so on edge?” a man asked, the sound of his voice sending a not-unpleasant shiver cascading down my body. Hades.

  He was the one person who should never, ever touch me. Because of our feelings for one another, it was reckless. Because of my position, it was beyond forbidden.

  I narrowed my eyes, pressing my lips together. “You should know better,” I said, ducking under my arm as I twisted around to face Hades. Standing so close to him, I had to raise my gaze to meet his icy blue eyes.

  Hades looked as he always did—poised and polished, not a flaw on his pristine white suit, and not a hair out of place. Up this high, the ice dome’s faint blue hue gave his blond hair a slightly silver tint.

  My gaze lingered on his face for a moment, tracing the strong lines I’d yearned to touch for what felt like eons, before dropping to my wrist. To his long, graceful fingers. To the place where he was touching me.

  My brain finally registered the danger. “What are you thinking?” I hissed, shooting furtive glances to either side as I yanked my wrist free from his grasp.

  Thankfully, the balcony was as empty as it had been when I’d first come up here. Well, almost as empty.

  Anger boiled within me as my focus returned to Hades, to his hand hovering between us. I knew exactly what he’d been thinking. That initial touch hadn’t been a momentary lapse in judgment; it had been deliberate. He was trying to force my hand. Trying to make me decide before I was ready.

  My eyes locked with his, the fond familiarity in his blue gaze unable to soothe my irritation.

  Giving up everything, even for a lifetime on the surface with him—under the glorious sun—wasn’t an easy choice. Excommunication was serious. It was a life sentence. And in time, a death sentence. If we abandoned the Alpha site, this cycle would be our last. The threat of mortality always hovered in the shadows, taunting my people. For us, it would become real.

  Making the choice even harder, I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that Hades’ intentions were pure. No matter his earnest words over the years, I couldn’t quite make myself believe that he, an ancient, Olympus-born man—a prince by birthright—would fall for someone like me.

  Like most of the people living in the four remaining settlements here on Atlantis, I was a product of the technological advances made during the trip from Olympus to this idyllic planet. Genetic tinkering made me look more like the native anthropos than like a natural-born Olympian. I was hardly his equal—without my position as a revered Amazon warrior, Hades would never even know I existed.

  His brow furrowed. “I thought we agreed to leave this—”

  I sliced my head to the left, breaking our stare and focusing on some far-off point at the edge of the city where the grids of crops and green-turfed training fields met the ice wall.

  “Peri?” There was hurt in Hades’ voice. His hand inched closer to me, angling toward my arm.

  I took a step back, one hand partially upraised. I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I focused on his chin instead. The pale stubble covering his square jaw glistened in the filtered light. “I’m sorry, I—” I swallowed, my voice feeling too thick in my throat. “I just need more time.”

  “Time,” Hades said bitterly. “That’s the one thing we have too much of.” He curled his upper lip in distaste. “And what do we do with it?” He took a step toward me, and I fought the urge to back up further. “Nothing. We do nothing. Because we’re cowards.”

  My regulator was activated, the stone set into the silver disk hanging like a pendant from the chain around my neck glowing a steady, subtle amber, blocking my psychic abilities. Every once in a while, something still slipped through, but not often. And not now. But I didn’t need to be able to read Hades’ mind to pick out his true meaning. He’d said we were cowards, but he’d meant I was a coward.

  I couldn’t avoid his stare any longer. His words were a slap, knocking me out of the painful tangle of thoughts and emotions holding me captive. “I’m not a coward,” I said, teeth gritted and glare hard. I was the best of the best, a highly skilled warrior equipped with the psychic gifts unique to my rank. I was an Amazon, damn it.

  Hades leaned in, testing me. Would I back up? Lash out? Run? He was always testing me, it seemed. Maybe that was what made me doubt his feelings for me. Or maybe it was my fear.

  He inched closer until I could feel the gentle caress of air brushing over my skin as he exhaled. He held my gaze, challenge clear in his eyes. “Prove it,” he whispered.

  * * *

  Emotions charged by the memory, I straightened and turned to face Hades. He stood close—closer than I had expected—and I automatically leaned back against the railing, my heart beating faster at his close proximity. My eyes locked with his, and my smile faded at the intensity of his ice-blue stare. At the hints of things unsaid. Undone. Unfulfilled. I licked my lips.

  Hades raised a hand, brushing the backs of his fingers down my cheek.

  I closed my eyes and leaned into the gentle caress. The emotions of the moment overwhelmed me, and I turned my face away to hide the tears leaking from between my eyelids. “Yes,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper. “Everything.”

  Hades’ hand fell away from my face.

  I opened my eyes and sidestepped away, turning my back to him. Hastily, I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

  “Peri . . .” The way he said my name, his voice raw and filled with longing, clawed at my heart. “I’m sorry.”

  I cleared my throat. “I think you should call me Cora,” I told him. “It's less confusing that way.”

  Hades was quiet for a long moment. “I see,” he finally said, like he had any right to be wounded by the harsh reality of our situation. Of my situation which he had caused.

  Anger sparking, I spun around to face him, my stare hard and accusing. “Do you?” I said. “Do you really see? You know, I didn't ask to be like this—to be two
people smashed together into one. To have my heart torn in two. This is your doing, Hades. I'm like this because of you.” I jutted out my jaw, refusing to let my frustration wring more tears out of me. “You could have just let me go.” My chin trembled, my fire fading as I realized part of me wished he had. “Why didn't you just let me go?”

  Hades raised a hand, then let it drop. He swallowed several times, almost like he was choking on the words. “I couldn't,” he finally managed to say. “I had nothing left. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to keep me going. To let you go would have been to give up, and I—I just couldn't.” He shook his head like he was locked in a silent argument with himself. “I couldn't do it.”

  I took a step toward him, my anger at this confusing situation boiling over. I hated feeling like anyone’s happiness was tied to me, but there was no way to avoid the fact that both Raiden and Hades were looking to me for something I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to give either of them. I loved them—both of them—and hurting them hurt me. But I didn’t see any way to stop. It was so easy to blame Hades. To make him the focal point of my anger.

  “You used me, Hades,” I accused, ruthless and relentless in the verbal assault mounting in my mind. “I was a carrot on a stick. Some prize waiting for you at the end of your mission.”

  “No!” Hades gasped. He took a step toward me, reaching out for my arm, but I yanked it out of reach. “I loved you,” he proclaimed, his eyes searching mine as he placed his open hand over his heart. “I love you still. I didn't know how everything would turn out. I didn't know you would be raised as a human, ignorant of your true self.”

  I thought back to the holodisk given to me by the Zari during my involuntary stay in the transformed Beta site. It was one of many, each created by Hades to address a different situation.

  “Maybe you didn’t know this would happen,” I said, “but you knew it was a possibility. You knew I might end up like this, but you did it anyway. You set up your mazes and puzzles and claimed it was for the good of our people, but really it was for you. It was all for you—so you didn't have to live without your favorite pet.”