Dreams of the Damned (Atlantis Legacy Book 3)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I held the doru out in front of me and glared up at him as I started to stand.

  “Ah ah,” Henry said, waving his finger at me like I was a misbehaving child. “Place the weapon on the floor and roll it to me, then stand.”

  I hesitated before setting the doru on the floor. I pushed it toward him with minimal effort and maximum irritation. The doru stopped rolling halfway there, out of my reach, but also out of his. If he wanted it, he would have to get a little bit closer to me. Too close for comfort.

  “Oops,” I said as I stood up the rest of the way, my glare locking with Henry’s. “My bad.”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Turn around,” he ordered.

  I did as instructed, my eyes meeting first Raiden’s concerned stare, then Hades’.

  “Very good,” Henry said from behind me. “Let us all understand the situation and see that there is no more hope for escape. It is better this way—to know, to accept our fate.”

  My mind whirled as I tried to pull some comprehensible meaning from Henry’s cryptic words. What fate was he talking about? What, exactly, was he planning?

  The sole of his shoe squeaked on the polished tile floor as he stepped closer to me, likely to retrieve my doru. Maybe if I had still been facing him, I could have lunged and taken him hostage before his guards got trigger happy, but I didn’t like my odds when I was blind to what was happening behind me. Odds were, it wasn’t even Henry at all, but one of his lackeys picking up the staff for him.

  “Walk up to the dais and kneel on the floor,” Henry commanded. “Bear witness to my great accomplishment.”

  The scathing look Hades sent Henry told me all I needed to know about what the Olympian thought of Henry and his great accomplishment. No doubt, Hades was the true owner of this great accomplishment, his hard work boosting Henry's ego. Clearly it had to do with the transference equipment Hades was repairing. He must have found all the necessary parts during our explorations of the lost colonies.

  But what I couldn't figure out was Raiden's role in all of this. I'd had enough encounters with Henry to know he had a penchant for the tell-all variety of gloating villainous monologues. I held out hope that his nature would hold true, though I figured it wouldn't hurt to give him a little nudge.

  I approached the circular dais at the center of the lab, my steps slow as I played through all my available next moves. With so many guns aimed not just at me but also at Raiden and Hades, I was very aware that I needed to proceed with extreme caution.

  “It looks to me like Hades is doing all the work,” I tossed over my shoulder as I climbed the five shallow steps up to the dais. “What exactly is your accomplishment here?” I knelt, keeping my back to Henry, hoping my inattention to him prodded him further, and watched Raiden. His focus was past me, on Henry, and I waited for any sign or indication that my goading was working. So far, the primicerius was showing remarkable restraint.

  Slow footsteps behind me that I assumed belonged to Henry marked his progress as he trailed me, but once again, he stopped outside of easy striking distance.

  At present, the only move I could see was to lure him close enough that I could take him hostage and hold his life as collateral for our freedom.

  “It must make you feel big and powerful to order around someone like Hades,” I said, then fell quiet, letting the implied meaning sink in—that Hades was better than Henry. All you needed was a set of working eyeballs to see that, but Henry struck me as the delusions-of-grandeur type.

  “Have you ever watched a grandmaster play chess?” Henry asked me, close enough behind me to confirm that he had been the one following me after all. Perfect.

  I suppressed a smile.

  “They play so far ahead that by the second move,” he went on, “they can already see the end of the game.”

  I rolled my eyes. He definitely suffered from delusions of grandeur.

  “The leaders of this world lack the spark of creativity required for such foresight,” Henry continued.

  I narrowed my eyes, thinking my prodding may have worked. Villainous monologue, here we come.

  “And so,” Henry said, “I will replace them.”

  My focus snapped from Raiden to Hades as I processed this new information. Hades was repairing a machine that could transfer a consciousness into a new host body. That much was obvious. Henry wanted to replace the world leaders, which clearly required the transference equipment. But whose consciousnesses was he planning on using to overwrite the world leaders’ minds? Order members? Duplicates of his own consciousness? Or . . .

  My eyes opened wider as realization dawned.

  Was Henry attempting to overwrite the minds of the world’s leaders with Olympians?

  Shock parted my lips, and I searched Hades’ expression for confirmation of my suspicion. He glanced my way, just for a moment, and nodded minutely.

  I couldn’t believe it. Henry was really going to do it. And he was crazy enough to do it.

  The part of me that was still scarred by the ancient betrayals that had ended my previous life wondered if Hades was participating willingly, knowing this would revive some of our people, at least in spirit. But then my focus shifted to the guard standing behind him, holding him at gunpoint, and the part of me that loved him knocked all such thoughts away. Hades was not a willing accomplice.

  My attention returned to Raiden, restrained in that terrifying chair contraption. I still couldn’t puzzle out his role in all of this. Henry would have had a reason for bringing Raiden here—he was too much trouble, otherwise. As I studied the tech-heavy chair Raiden was tied to, a terrible fear seeped into my bones, chilling me from the inside out.

  I had never been in this lab before, and I didn't know anything about how the transference equipment worked, other than that during the transference process, a consciousness was pulled from storage—either those in short-term storage here in the Alpha site or those in long-term storage at the Omega site. From what I understood, the great transference Poseidon had originally planned before being driven mad by the prospect of immortality—or rather, losing the relative immortality granted to him by cloning—involved a massive remote transference targeting all humans in a specified geographic location.

  But, I knew a consciousness could also be transferred through a direct connection, which was how my own consciousness had been transferred from my old body to my new clone each cycle, as with every other Olympian who had lived on this planet. But the transfer had always happened when we were infants, before our neural structure had had a chance to solidify into any permanent, identity-forming patterns.

  I narrowed my eyes, staring through Raiden, as I mentally fit all the puzzle pieces together. The Olympian scientists who had developed the equipment for the great transference would have needed a way to experiment on adult human subjects with fully formed brains, as those were to be the new hosts to the Olympian consciousnesses. Was that what this chair was for—testing the efficacy of the transference equipment on live, adult subjects? The same chair that Raiden was currently sitting in?

  Rage turned my heart into a sledgehammer trying to slam through my sternum. Clenching my jaw, I looked over my shoulder at Henry, who stood maybe five paces back. “Why is Raiden here?”

  Henry’s thin lips spread into a slow grin. “From your expression, I think you've already figured that out.” His pale eyes sparkled with malicious glee. “How wonderful it is that you will be here to witness the first transfer—the rebirth of your people.” His smile faded, his expression darkening. “You should thank me for letting you stay.”

  I was doused in a wash of icy hatred. “If you hurt him, I will kill you,” I promised. “Slowly and with great pleasure.”

  Again, that muscle in Henry’s cheek twitched. “I have no doubt,” he murmured. “But I have no intention of hurting Raiden. Rather, I wish to elevate him. To enlighten him.”

  “You're going to destroy everything that makes him, him,” I spat, glaring. “It's murder.”


  My glare snapped to Hades. “I can't believe you're helping him.” I shook my head and made a disgusted sound low in my throat.

  Hades glanced up from the guts of the control panel to look at me.

  My focus shifted to the guard behind him, then back to Hades. Held at gunpoint or not, there was no excuse for going along with this.

  Hades' stare slipped away from mine as he returned to his work.

  “You could have said no,” I blurted, my voice raw and tears stinging my eyes. “You could have saved him. This is the only lifetime he gets, but you've had, what—twenty, thirty cycles? It isn't enough? You still need more?” My chest heaved with each breath as my fear and rage swept all rationality away.

  Hades went very still. “I'm not doing this to save myself,” he said, his voice perfectly even and razor sharp. “I'm doing it to save you.” His eyes met mine. “It would seem you are more trouble than you're worth. You were to be executed.” He glanced down at the control panel, his eyebrows raised. “I made sure that didn't happen.”

  “You traded Raiden’s life for mine,” I said, my voice hollow. I felt ill, like the place where my stomach should have been was now a rotting, festering lump. This was my fault. Raiden’s predicament—his impending doom—was because of me. Because Hades loved me.

  Hades stood a little straighter, holding his head high. “I did what needed to be done to ensure you survived,” he said, his voice steady, his stare unwavering. “I was looking out for your best interests, as always.”

  My heart lodged in my throat, and I wanted to cry. To scream. To rage at Hades that he had chosen wrong. I wasn’t worth this. I wasn’t worth Raiden’s life.

  Desperate for something to tether me to reality, to keep the rage and fear and sorrow from tearing me apart, I looked at Raiden. At strong, sweet, stoic Raiden. At the gentle man who had survived one level of hell only to be dumped back into another.

  And as my eyes met his, his resigned expression shattered my heart.

  27

  As I stared at Raiden, I saw flashes of our childhood together. Of combing the beach near Blackthorn Manor in search of hermit crabs and pretty shells. Of hanging out in the fort we had built in the woods. Of staying up late lying on our backs on a blanket on the lawn near the edge of the bluff, staring up at the stars and imagining what else might be out there. Of watching him leave for boot camp and wondering if he would ever return.

  And throughout all those memories, a single thought spun around and around in my head: it’s not fair. Hades had lived dozens of lifetimes, and I had lived more than my fair share. But Raiden only had the one lifetime. This lifetime.

  Bowing my head, I silently vowed that Raiden’s single shot at life wouldn’t be cut short. Not here. Not today. Not while there was still breath in my lungs and blood in my veins.

  Fueled by the desperate conviction to save the one person in this lab who deserved to live, I dove across the dais, sliding around the transference chair on my side, my arms outstretched ahead of me. Deafening gunfire filled the lab.

  “Hold your fire!” Henry shouted.

  I snagged the left ankle of Raiden’s guard and yanked his legs out from underneath him before he could react. Without a second thought, I snapped his neck, embracing the irony of taking one human life in order to save another. In the sudden silence, the soldier’s body hit the floor with a resounding thump.

  I had never been afraid to admit that some lives mattered to me more than others. It was part of being self-aware, of knowing all life eventually came to an end. To some, it was their own life that mattered most. To others, it was the lives of the people they loved. To me, in this moment, it was Raiden’s.

  I relieved the dead soldier of his assault rifle and armed myself, then rolled off the dais and ducked behind one of the many workstations encircling the platform. I peeked over the top of the desk, scanning the lab with the barrel of my new gun.

  I half expected Hades to use the distraction to fight off his own guard, especially knowing that Henry wouldn’t risk the Olympian’s life until his machine was finished, and he had proof that it worked. Proof in the form of some random Olympian walking around wearing Raiden’s body like its favorite suit. But Hades just stood there, watching the chaos unfold, doing nothing.

  Henry, on the other hand, had ducked out of sight while I was taking out Raiden’s guard, and I figured he was hiding behind another of the workstations. His cease-fire order told me he wanted the transference equipment intact more than he wanted me dead. Good to know. I could work with that.

  A head poked around the side of a workstation across the room, and I didn’t hesitate to shift my aim and pull the trigger. Another Order soldier’s body hit the floor. I picked off another in the same way, and for the gazillionth time in the last month, I felt like I had fallen into one of the video games I loved so much, picking off bad guys in an epic showdown. That strange sensation helped to dull the reality that I was ending the lives of real people.

  I ducked back behind the workstation and prepared to move to another hiding spot. I huddled at the edge of the workstation, gathering my strength and coiling my muscles.

  “Come out, come out, ancient one,” Henry taunted. From the sound of his voice, I had the impression he was on the dais now. With Hades and Raiden.

  Heart sinking into my stomach, I peeked around the side of the desk.

  Henry stood beside Raiden, using the larger man’s body and the chair to block any potential shot I had at him. He held a pistol in his hand, the muzzle of the gun pressed against Raiden’s temple.

  “Shit,” I hissed and pulled back behind the workstation.

  Breathing hard, I weighed my options. I could chance a shot. I might be able to hit Henry and miss Raiden. But if I missed, all Henry needed to do was pull the trigger, and Raiden would be dead. Or I could surrender and let Henry have his way. At least Raiden’s body would live on, even if the soul within belonged to another. I gritted my teeth, hating that option.

  “He is too much of a liability,” Henry said, his sing-song accent like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. “He knows too much about the Order . . . too much about your kind. He can either live on as an Olympian, or he can die as himself.” Henry fell quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Many of my people would be honored to take his place, so his death would be no great loss to me.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pounded my fist against my leg.

  “The choice is yours, ancient one,” Henry announced. “You can decide his fate, right here, right now. Life as an Olympian, or death as a human—what will it be?”

  Feeling trapped, I peered over the top of the workstation to reassess the situation. Hades at the control panel, his guard behind him. Four more Order soldiers hidden throughout the lab. Raiden in the transference chair. Henry behind him. Me, crouched here, useless.

  There was nothing I could do. No way out of this that I could see. I had to choose.

  Slowly, I stood, aiming my rifle in Henry’s direction. My eyes locked with Raiden’s as I struggled with the impossible choice. I wanted to apologize to him, to tell him how sorry I was for turning his world upside down, then tearing it apart. But the words withered and died in my throat.

  I had failed him. I was failing him right now. There was nothing I could do to save him. I wasn’t good enough. And now, one way or another, he was going to die.

  “How much longer, Hades?” Henry snapped. “My patience is not endless . . .”

  I looked at Hades, pleading with my eyes for him to say he needed more time.

  His eyes met mine for the briefest moment before his attention shifted to Henry. “It's ready now.”

  I hunched over as if I had been physically gutted by his words. By his betrayal. He could have pretended it wasn't ready yet. He could have bought me some more time. Bought Raiden some more time. But maybe he didn't want that. Maybe he saw this as a way to eliminate the final obstacle to my heart. To finally claim his prize.

 
; My stare narrowed to a glare. I would kill him. Henry first, then Hades. It would hurt, ending his life, but I would do it. This was the last time he would ever betray me.

  Hades’ focus shifted back to me. His expression was calm, not the least bit repentant, no hint of apology. His complete disregard slashed through my anger and eroded my certainty. His reaction felt off, and once again, I reassessed the situation.

  Was I wrong about Hades? I truly hoped I was.

  He was no idiot—quite the opposite in fact—and the more I thought about it, the less I believed he would risk losing me over a petty rivalry. A rivalry he hardly felt, no less. Monogamy wasn't a thing in Olympian society, and Hades didn't view Raiden as an obstacle standing between us. That was me—the Cora part of me—projecting my American values on him. The only obstacle standing between Hades and me was me. And the only sure way to ensure he would lose me forever would be to willfully eliminate Raiden as a candidate for my heart.

  Which meant there was only one reason he wouldn't delay the transference for as long as possible—only one reason he wouldn't buy me time to find another way out of this. He already had a plan.

  Hades’ steady gaze and calm demeanor took on a new meaning, and I felt as certain as I could be without actually being able to read his mind that he was telling me—asking me—to trust him. My gut told me to trust him, too.

  I held Hades’ stare for a moment longer, then closed my eyes, silently hoping that my trust in Hades wasn’t misplaced. That he was offering me a third choice—a blind choice, but a better choice.

  Inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and looked at Henry. “Start the transference.”

  28

  I leaned my hip against the edge of the workstation, my arms crossed over my chest and the rifle discarded on the desk, and watched Hades reassemble the cover of the control panel. The guard behind Hades had relaxed, his rifle now aimed at the floor. Henry, too, had lowered his weapon and held the handgun alongside his thigh as he paced back and forth across the dais. The four other Order soldiers stood around the perimeter of the lab, far from me, their assault rifles trained on Raiden, to ensure I behaved.