DREAMS OF THE DAMNED
Atlantis Legacy, book 3
Lindsey Fairleigh
RUBUS PRESS
Copyright © 2020 by Rubus Press
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events are products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. No reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or should be inferred.
Editing by Fresh as a Daisy Editing
www.freshasadaisyediting.com
Cover by We Got You Covered
www.wegotyoucoveredbookdesign.com
Contents
More Book By Lindsey Fairleigh
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
More Book By Lindsey Fairleigh
About the Author
More Book By Lindsey Fairleigh
www.lindseyfairleigh.com
ATLANTIS LEGACY
Sacrifice of the Sinners
Legacy of the Lost
Fate of the Fallen
Dreams of the Damned
Song of the Soulless
ALLWORLD ONLINE
AO: Pride & Prejudice
ECHO TRILOGY
Echo in Time
Resonance
Time Anomaly
Dissonance
Ricochet Through Time
KAT DUBOIS CHRONICLES
Ink Witch
Outcast
Underground
Soul Eater
Judgement
Afterlife
THE ENDING SERIES
The Ending Beginnings: Omnibus Edition
After The Ending
Into The Fire
Out Of The Ashes
Before The Dawn
World Before
THE ENDING LEGACY
World After
To read Lindsey’s books as she writes them, check her out on Patreon:
www.patreon.com/lindseyfairleigh
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Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to my Patreon Patrons, who support my work on a monthly basis:
Olivia Rodriguez
Carlotta Woolcock
Teri Lindley
Fred Oelrich
Aisling Ó Béara
Allison Mayer
Stephanie Oaks
1
“Agh!” I cried out as a well-placed kick to the sternum sent me stumbling backward. The heel of my boot caught on an ancient paving stone, and I rolled, ass over teakettle, hissing curses along the way. I landed ungracefully on my hands and knees and spat out a mouthful of sand.
A shadow blocked the moonlight, and heaving a breath, I raised my head to take in my attacker. Meg stood with her fists on her hips and a suppressed smile tugging at her lips. Behind her, the clear night sky formed a starry backdrop above the outlines of the two largest of the famed pyramids of Giza—those belonging to Khufu and Khafre—and a halo of silver moonlight surrounded the upper half of her body. The channels running the length of her form-fitting hoplon suit glowed a subtle amber, matching the stone in her activated regulator, signaling that her psychic powers were suppressed.
Her smug expression set my teeth on edge, and I growled low in my throat. Before Meg could get too comfortable in her victory, I dove for her legs, wrapping my arms around her thighs and knocking her onto her back.
Meg grunted with the impact, and sand went flying all around us. Lips twisting into something that was part grimace, part grin—and pure aggression—she gripped my braid and yanked my head to the side.
I yelped, gritting my teeth and arching my neck to alleviate the sharp pain in my scalp.
Meg used the shock from the dirty hair-pull maneuver to snake her legs around my neck in a brutal choke hold. Her thighs were a steel vice cutting off my air supply, and a whole new set of stars danced around the edge of my vision as my blood ran dangerously low on oxygen. I clawed at her legs, trying to dig my fingers in between her thighs and my throat, but it was no use. She was too strong.
I double tapped the outside of Meg’s thigh, letting her know I was giving up. For the third time in a row.
Here I was—Persephone, a psychic Olympian warrior of the Order of Amazons with seventeen lifetime's worth of combat training and experience, and I couldn’t even beat a seventeen-year-old girl. Sure, she was also a psychic warrior—though a human one—born and raised in a hidden underground city buried deep within the heart of the Amazon Rainforest, but she was still a relative child. Besting her shouldn’t have been a struggle. It should have been a given. But it wasn’t because I wasn’t just Peri. I was also Cora, a twenty-six-year-old gamer who had clocked thousands of combat hours in the virtual world, but about twelve in the real world.
Meg’s legs relaxed, and I sucked in a much-needed breath and flopped onto my back on the sand. I stared up at the night sky, watching as the darkness of impending unconsciousness receded from the edges of my vision with each cherished breath and the stars flared to their full glory overhead.
“Let’s take a break,” Meg said from beside me. A sidelong glance told me she wasn’t in much better shape than me, sprawled on her back on the sand, breathing hard. Beating me hadn’t been easy for her. So, at least there was that.
But I knew she had only suggested taking a break because she could sense my irritation at being bested by her—again—through the psychic bond we had forged barely a week ago when she had pledged her life to mine in recompense for attempting to kidnap me. No matter how tightly we squeezed the psychic vice to tamp down on the bond, we hadn’t figured out a way to block it completely. A little bit always trickled through. Enough that I could sense Meg's train of thought before she even opened her mouth.
“You'll get stronger, Cora. And your stamina has already increased.” As she spoke, her compassion and understanding for my situation trickled through our bond, and I smashed my lips together to keep myself from lashing out at her. Anger roiled in my belly, but none of it was aimed at her. “It just takes time,” she added weakly.
I growled in frustration and rolled onto my hands and knees, then climbed to my feet, brushing my hands off on my outer thighs. Meg sat up, reclining back on her hands.
I despised being so weak. Never—never—in any of my lives had I felt so pathetic or helpless. Four days ago, my two selves had become one. I was no longer just Cora, the reclusive gamer or just Peri, the psychic warrior—I was both Cora and Peri, and I had all the knowledge and skills I had acquired over my many lifetimes. In theory, at least.
In the case of physical combat, my brain knew what my body needed to do, but my body was lagging, unable to execute moves I'd done a thousand times before. And the worst part of it was that this was
my own fault. Two decades of playing video games had done little to prepare my body for anything beyond sitting for long periods of time. Even if I hadn't known who—or what—I really was, it was no excuse for the extreme neglect I'd shown toward my own body. I was mad at my mom and Emi for letting me embrace such a sedentary, slothful lifestyle, but I was mostly mad at myself for letting my apparently intrinsic lazy nature mold me into such a worthless piece of—
“Wow,” Meg said dryly, drawing my attention down to her. “And I thought I was the queen of self-loathing.” She stood, brushed off her backside, and bowed to me with a dramatic flourish. “I stand corrected, your highness.”
I stared at her, unamused.
At the crunch of sand grinding against stone, we both turned to watch Raiden make his way up the ancient limestone walkway cutting through the desert sand, leading from the Great Sphinx to our favored sparring location behind the massive monument. He raised a hand to wave, his full lips spreading into a hesitant smile.
I sighed, tension seeping into my shoulders.
Raiden was the last person I wanted to see right now. He was a glaring reminder of just how weak I had been. Of just how much I had needed him to help me rescue my mom and track down Hades. Me, a psychic warrior of the Order of Amazons, relying on a man to complete a mission. Olympian men couldn’t even become Amazons; only the females of our species were capable of withstanding the genetic modification that enabled our psychic gifts. We were the top of the food chain in Olympian society, the best of the best. It was unheard of for one of my kind to take the backseat to anyone other than another Amazon warrior. But with Raiden, I had been the follower, the sidekick, the backup for pretty much my whole life. The memory of how much I had relied on him—of how much I had truly needed his help—disgusted me.
And yet, I loved Raiden with all my heart. Or, at least, with the Cora half of my heart. Now that Hades was awake, my love life was a lot more complicated.
But the more time I spent as my true self, aware of all I had experienced over my many lifetimes—both as Peri and as Cora—the harder it was to reconcile myself with whom I had become in this life. How was it that this version of me had turned out so differently from all the others? Did my training truly make up that much of who I was—who I had been? Did my life as Cora represent my true nature, or was she—I—just another product of my environment? To say I was having an identity crisis would be a gross understatement. I felt like I was losing my damn mind.
“Mind if I join you?” Raiden asked as he veered off the path and trudged through the sand toward us. “Don't want to get too out of shape…”
I gritted my teeth, practically grinding them together. Raiden looked like an action figure turned to flesh and bone, his body honed to combat perfection after nearly a decade spent in the military. The idea that he was on his way to getting out of shape was beyond laughable.
I hadn't grappled with Raiden since that night in the hotel in Rome when I had awakened him from a nightmare, and his half-asleep self had attempted to strangle the life out of me. I’d beaten him then, but with the way my arm muscles currently trembled with fatigue, there was no doubt the outcome of a match between us now would be dismal—for me. I couldn’t handle losing to him right now. I was too deeply entrenched in my latest identity crisis.
Planting my hands on my hips, I stared off at the top half of the pyramid of Khafre, all that was visible of the landmark over the sloping sand. “You two go ahead,” I said, my voice distant as my thoughts wandered to other ways to improve my physical fitness. My abysmal stamina was my weakest point and putting in more effort in that department would go a long way toward reclaiming my former glory.
My eyes narrowed on the top of the pyramid. It was maybe a quarter of a mile away. Sprinting there and back a few times every day ought to do the trick. My stamina would be up to snuff in no time.
I started toward the pyramid at a jog. “I’ll be back in a bit,” I tossed over my shoulder, then shifted into high gear, my boots digging into the sand as I pushed myself as hard as my exhausted legs would allow.
Through my bond with Meg, I could sense her concern for me.
I pushed myself even harder until the burn in my muscles was rivaled by the fire in my lungs. Until all thoughts and emotions fled from my mind, and anything leaking through my bond with Meg was buried under a mountain of physical discomfort. Until the only thing that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other. Over, and over, and over again.
2
By the time I headed back to the Omega site, I was a sweaty, sandy mess. I’d made seven trips to the pyramid and back, my pace having waned from a sprint to a stumbling jog by the final circuit. I should have stopped sooner, after round four or five, but the thought of seeing Meg and Raiden grappling expertly in the sand had spurred me onward. It would have been just another reminder that I wasn’t as strong or capable as I should have been.
Now that my body was fully enmeshed in the throes of exhaustion and all of my wild and flailing emotional energy was spent, I could review my actions—and reactions—with a rational mind. Like a scared child, I had run away. My reaction to Raiden had been one of cowardice, and if I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t entirely born of feeling physically deficient.
I was afraid. Of us. Of finding out if there still was an us. Of finding out there wasn’t. I’d always been a coward when it came to matters of the heart, more so as Peri than as Cora, and I felt ashamed of my childish reaction.
So much had changed since we arrived here four days ago. I was a different person. The memories and experiences from all my lifetimes had merged, turning me into someone new. When I was around Raiden, the memories and experiences we shared came to the forefront of my mind, and I felt more like Cora—hesitant, uncertain, weak, and dependent. But when I was around Hades, the opposite happened, and suddenly the Peri traits were dominant, making me feel strong, powerful, and confident as I had been all those millennia ago. I had thought merging my two selves would make my life easier, but now I felt more confused than ever about who I was. And if I didn’t even know who I was, how could Raiden or Hades truly know me? How could either of them still love me?
Thankfully, the sparring field behind the Sphinx was vacant by the time I crested the final sand dune and started down the slope toward the front of the monument. I slipped into the Omega site through the entrance nestled between the Sphinx’s front legs and was relieved to find the control room relatively empty. Not that it was much of a surprise—it was late, and the others were likely asleep in the closet-sized rooms that counted as living quarters in this particular Olympian site.
Fiona sat on a stool in front of the control panel taking up the entire wall on the right side of the triangular room, her laptop propped on her lap and a jury-rigged cord connecting it to the massive Olympian computer that ran this clandestine site. Her neon orange hair was knotted into a bun on the top of her head, either held in place by a computer stylus or used as a pin cushion for one. With her, it was impossible to say.
Fiona tore her stare from the computer screen as I crossed the space. “Wow,” she said, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “If I looked up ‘hot mess’ in the dictionary, I think I’d find a picture of you.”
I snorted a laugh, too worn out to be offended. “Thanks.”
Fiona winked and made a clicking sound inside her cheek. “Anytime,” she murmured, her attention returning to her computer screen. Hades had turned off the electronics dampener, allowing Fiona better access to Olympian tech. She’d been spending as much time as possible jacked into the alien computer system, working on a translation algorithm that would allow her to build an Olympian-to-English interface, giving her access to the full spectrum of Olympian tech. This situation was basically her deepest fantasy come to life, so I was hardly surprised to find her in here burning the midnight oil.
Leaving Fiona to her work, I headed for the door at the far end of the space. The control room was shaped like
a cone that had been chopped in half and turned on its side, broadening from the narrow entry point beneath the Sphinx’s forelegs to a large, arched metal wall at the far end. Control panels and workstations took up all available space on either side of the room, but the arched metal wall was completely bare, save for the rectangular outline of the door.
The metal door slid open as I neared, revealing the hallway that provided access to all other areas of the Omega site. The layout of this site was very cramped and warren-like, and generally space-ship-y—and with good reason. This site was actually part of the Tartarus, the ship that had brought my people here from our dying planet some fourteen millennia ago. Unbeknownst to any but the ruling family—which included the Emperor’s scion here on this world, Poseidon; his sister and the traitorous leader of the Order of Amazons, Demeter; and their brother and the bearer of the other half of my heart, Hades—the Omega site had been ejected from the Tartarus shortly after arriving here on this planet eons ago and buried underground in a secret location.
It had been planted here as a last resort, a sort of storage locker for our people, should the worst happen. Well, the worst had happened, and the consciousnesses of thousands of Olympians were now stored here in the Vault of Souls. For all we knew, this site held the last remnants of my people anywhere in the universe.
Dreams of the Damned (Atlantis Legacy Book 3) Page 1