Undone: The Dark Skies Trilogy Read online

  Undone

  The Dark Skies Trilogy. Book Three

  Lysa Daley

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Second Edition

  Text copyright © 2017 Lysa Daley

  All rights reserved.

  ASIN B01B8QD8RG k12

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the expressed written permission of the publisher.

  www.lysadaley.com

  Lysa’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bOu71b

  Cover design by Paper and Sage.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Old Cairo in July. An inferno. Perhaps the hottest place on the planet at this very moment. Everyone around me looks like they’re about to melt.

  “Astrid, you’re falling behind,” my uncle says, glancing over his shoulder as he pushes through the massive crowd.

  It’s hard not to laugh at him dressed like a tourist in khaki shorts, a striped polo, blinding white New Balance tennis shoes and a camera dangling from his neck. The camera is actually a high-tech surveillance and scanning system.

  “I’m just trying to make sure we don’t miss the street we’re supposed to turn down,” I lie pretending to study the map of Cairo’s Old Bazaar. I’m wearing a cotton sundress and pink Converse high tops.

  “Hey I think you should slow down a little. I’m afraid you might burst into flames.”

  He wipes the sweat from his brow and says, “We don’t have time. The Horlocks might be tracking us. Our intel indicated that the entrance to Kraken’s shop should be just around the next corner. So I need you on your toes and alert.”

  “I’m always on my toes.”

  He gives me a skeptical glance, then frowns. “How come you don’t look hot?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. Unlike everyone else in the market who is desperate to stay out of the Egyptian sun, I’m not really hot at all. “The sun feels nice.”

  We snake through the narrow market crowded with vendors. This is one of the oldest shopping districts in the world. The narrow streets are packed with a crush of both tourists and locals strolling past row after row of merchant stalls peddling silk scarves, spices, handwoven baskets and exotic Egyptian knickknacks like mini-sphinx snow globes. Who doesn’t need one of those?

  We’re here looking for a rogue Grey alien named Kraken. The Eye in the Sky agents picked up chatter indicating that this Kraken character supposedly knows the location of a secret Draconian and Horlock base.

  After their attempt to destroy us at St. Benedicts, our enemy has gone into hiding. No doubt to regroup and come at us again. But we have no idea where they’re hiding out.

  My earpiece buzzes to life with Fitz’s ever-steady voice coming through the comm system. “Alright you two, make a right at the next corner, and you’ll see an arched stone entrance on the left.”

  “Ten-four,” my uncle replies.

  “And you’re sure this Kraken guy knows where the Draconians are hiding out?” I ask, pushing through the throng of sweaty humanity. “Because I really want my sword back.”

  “He’s the biggest smuggler and salesman on the intergalactic black market,” Fitz replies. “If the Draconians or Greys need fuel, guns or ammunition, they have to go through him. He’s a sort of underground kingpin. If anyone knows where they’ve stashed Calliope and BrightSky, it’s Kraken the Grey. And if he doesn’t, he’ll know someone who does.”

  I feel a jolt of anger hearing the name of my star sister Calliope. After her stunning betrayal at St. B’s, she stole my sword BrightSky. And took Jax with her too.

  I want it back. The sword, that is. Not Jax. I’d rather never see Jax again as long as I live.

  To make matters worse, I’m stuck on this planet unless I can somehow retrieve my sword. In order to open an instantaneous gateway between solar systems known as the Stargate, I need BrightSky, the sword of stardust, in my possession.

  Approaching the intersection, a stall filled with beautiful silk scarves catches my eye. Not to mention the pretty dark-eyed salesgirl whose head is wrapped in a gorgeous purple scarf. The salesgirl, helping a grandmother decided between two different green scarfs, briefly glances in my direction and winks. It’s Ruby. She’s undercover too.

  Meanwhile, my one true love, Chad Olson mans a flaming kabob grill directly across from the silk merchant. They’re strategically positioned to be part of our backup. Half a dozen other Eye in the Sky agents linger nearby.

  My uncle pauses, pretending to look through the eyepiece of the camera dangling around his neck like a tourist. “I’m not picking up any unusual energy readings. But I’m getting some serious heat patterns coming from inside Kraken’s shop.”

  The camera has been retrofitted with a little helpful alien technology.

  “We just got word he may have a pair of Horned Attarian Razor Tooths inside for guards,” Fitz reports through the headset.

  “Great,” my uncles says darkly, approaching the first entryway on the right. “Razor Tooths. That’s just what we need.”

  “Wait. What’s a —?” I begin, wondering what sort of monster a Horned Attarian Razor Tooth might be, but my uncle is already moving.

  Two large teardrop shaped emeralds embedded into the transom above the door mark the arched entrance to Kraken’s shop. The massive emeralds have been canted at such an angle that they look like a pair of alien eyes. Clever.

  Over the comm system, Fitz warns, “I’m going to remind you two to approach with extreme caution. This guy is a whole lot of dangerous.”

  You don’t have to remind me.

  My uncle ducks his head so his 6 foot 7-inch frame can get through the low doorway. I follow him into the murky light of the narrow passage. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloom.

  “No one in sight.” My uncle comments on the curious lack of any guards. “So far.”

  Maybe we’re in the wrong place.

  The long passageway gently curves toward a quiet small open-air courtyard filled with a pair
of silvery olive trees and an old stone fountain with gently bubbling water. Flowers cascade from window boxes and birds dart in and out of scrolled iron feeders. The scent of jasmine is strong. This is someone’s private retreat from the hustle and bustle of the nearby bazaar.

  It isn’t until we’re a few steps inside that I spot the guards. Across the courtyard stands another doorway flanked by two massive maned lions lying lazily on either side of the door. Despite their relaxed posture, a low guttural growl comes from both of the big cats.

  “I thought they had some sort of alien guard,” I whisper, backing away from the lions. “Attarian Razor Tooths?”

  “They’re cloaked as lions,” my uncle explains.

  “Impressive choice,” I nod.

  My uncle reaches behind his back, putting his hand on his gun. Before he can draw his weapon or the lions can pounce, a disembodied voice echoes through the hot still air, ‘The Lyrian may enter.”

  That would be me.

  My uncle, a Moon-Eye Blue, and I exchange looks.

  “I’m coming with you,” he says in a quiet but firm voice. “No way you’re going in there alone.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you were invited,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the lions.

  “Let’s give it a try,” he says, placing a gentle hand on my back and escorting me toward the far doorway.

  “No,” the mysterious voice says as the growling lions both aggressively rise to their feet. “Only the Lyrian princess.”

  Chapter 2

  The two restless lions glare at us. There’s no way we can outrun them.

  Finally, the voice speaks again, “Kraken gives you his word that she shall come to no harm in his presence.”

  “Yeah, right…” my uncle mutters.

  “It’s okay,” I say, trying to sound both brave and reassuring.

  “No way. You’re not going in alone,” my uncle repeats.

  “We’ve come this far. This is the first lead about BrightSky and the Draconians we’ve had in almost three months,” I argue. “I’m not leaving without talking to this guy to find out what he knows.”

  My uncle silently considers our options. He knows I’m right. Finally, he begrudgingly nods. “Fine. I’ll be right here. Yell if you need me.”

  “Oh, believe me, I will scream my head off if I need you.”

  The two lions part creating a path between them and allowing me to pass through the threshold. I move through the doorway into a narrow hall. This hallway isn’t as dark as the entrance, but a bittersweet fragrant smoke, tinted with blue, fills the air.

  I arrive at two stone steps leading down into a round windowless chamber. At first, I don’t see anyone, but then the same disembodied voice that spoke a moment ago rises to meet me.

  “You look like your mother,” the voice says.

  My eyes follow the sound down to a bed of golden satin. Dozens of embroidered pillows spill across the bed and off onto the stone floor.

  Right in the center of it all lies Kraken the Grey. “She was a great beauty.”

  “Thank you,” I smile.

  Smart guy. The first thing he does is call me beautiful and compliment my mother.

  Long and spindly, Kraken the Grey looks up at me with his oversized almond shaped alien eyes. He’s puffing on a long narrow brass pipe attached to a tube that snakes around to a jeweled hookah.

  This is some sort of alien opium den.

  We’ve all seen images of the Grey aliens with the elongated arms and legs and their over-sized skulls. Their bald heads, pallid gray skin and over-sized cat eyes are iconic. But looking at this black market kingpin, I understand why they call him Kraken. His once smooth skin looks cracked and scaly. His gray color has faded to a sickly green. His skin sags and bunches making his head look misshapen.

  He’s a dead ringer for the mythological beast known as a Kraken. All he’s missing are the tentacles.

  He continues to puff on his pipe, blue smoke wafting, while studying me. “But I see your father’s eyes as well.”

  “I didn’t know you knew my parents,” I say.

  “Well,” he begins, shrugging one shoulder. “I wouldn’t exactly say we were - what do you kids say? - BFFs. However, a good warrior always studies his enemies.” He puffs again. “For me, that was a lifetime ago. Politics no longer holds any interest.”

  “Politics?” I repeat. “So one evil alien race overrunning and destroying another planet is what you call politics?”

  He looks up at me sharply then laughs. “And what would you call it, princess?”

  Fitz warned me that Kraken would try to bait me, attempt to get under my skin. I fight the rising anger. I don’t want to lose my cool. Besides, Kraken’s an outcast now anyway.

  A century ago, the Draconians and the Greys forged an evil alliance that has literally destroyed dozens - maybe hundreds - of worlds.

  Only a couple short decades ago, Kraken went rogue. My uncle told me that he thinks of himself as a business man. Now he’s exiled from his own kind. He came to Earth, that at the time was just a podunk little planet on the fringe of the galaxy, to set up shop. If you need illegal alien weapons or drugs or technology, things that are hard to find in this quadrant of the galaxy, then Kraken is your man.

  “No, I think you're right,” I force myself to say in a conciliatory tone. “It's politics on a very large stage.”

  For a long moment, he doesn't say anything. He just keeps staring at me which gives me the creeps. Finally, he nods, “What have you brought me?”

  I guess it’s time to get down to business now.

  I slide the canvas backpack off my shoulder and pull out a handful of jagged black crystals. Except, they're not actually crystals.

  His eyes go wide when he sees them. “Ah! Proxcynian power cubes. Very valuable.” As he reaches for them with his long bony gray hand, I yank them away.

  He frowns and says, “But are they valuable enough to trade for the information you need?”

  Now it's my turn to shrug. “I guess you have to make that decision.”

  “You have lost something,” he says, taking another puff from his pipe and blowing smoke towards me. I fight the urge to cough. “And you want me to help you get it back.”

  He already knows why I'm here.

  It’s obvious that we want the location of the Draconian base, but he knows about BrightSky as well.

  “I didn't lose it. My sword was stolen. And, yes, I want it back. Where do I find the one who took my property?”

  “You do not need to find the ones who took it,” he says, then grins wickedly. “I assure you, if you wait, they will locate you.”

  “Yes, but I don’t feel like sitting around and waiting for them. I want to find them first.”

  “Then you must plug the leak.” Another puff.

  “Plug the leak?” I sigh. Great. Someone else who speaks in riddles just like Señora Mariposa. “What does that mean?”

  He leans back and doesn’t answer my question. “Your mother was a formidable woman.”

  “I thought you said you two weren’t friends?”

  “Yes, we were mortal enemies. I’m sure if she were still alive she would tell you exactly that. But that doesn’t mean I do not respect her. Only a fool fails to respect a great enemy.”

  I’m desperate to ask him what she was like. The last fragmented memory I have of my mother was when I was little more than a toddler. I know that she was a military general, and she fought the Draconians. When it seemed certain that their world was about to be destroyed by their enemy, my parents sent me to Earth with my uncle.

  It has been presumed that my parents are dead but never confirmed. Not knowing the truth about my past makes it hard not to beg him for information.

  But Fitz warned me that Kraken would try to pull me in. He would try to manipulate me to gain an advantage. Any information that he can give me will come at a price. Perhaps, a very steep price.

  And, of course, it goes without saying that I would
never have a way to verify anything he says.

  As if reading my mind, Kraken queries, “I would be happy to tell you of the last time I met with your parents.”

  “Perhaps another day.” I force a smile. “What I need today is for you to tell me where the Draconian Swarm is keeping my sword.”

  “I can do better than tell you.” He reaches his bony hand over to a small table behind his bed pillows. He opens a drawer and pulls something out. Whatever it is, it's small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Information for the stones.” I nod and set the black crystals down at the foot of his satin bed. My uncle warned me not to get too close to him.

  Kraken takes one final puff from his pipe then looks at me with those calculating alien eyes. “Don’t you think your mother, the general, would be disappointed in you, swordless girl? Losing your weapon to a foe?”

  He flips whatever he retrieved from the drawer up in the air. It's about to sail over my head, so I’m forced to jump and swivel. When I catch it, the small object feels cold and smooth in my hand.

  Both feet back on the ground, I open my fist to see it's nothing but a tiny white spoon.

  “Hey, wait a minute. We had a deal. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  When I look back, blue smoke has suddenly filled the entire area making it nearly impossible to see anything. I step forward.

  Kraken is gone.

  “Great,” I say, looking at the tiny spoon in my hand.

  From behind me, I hear the deafening roar of angry lions.

  “Astrid!” my uncle’s voice booms from the courtyard. “Time to go!”

  Chapter 3

  I race down the narrow stone passageway toward the sound of snarling lions. I’m holding my breath, afraid of what I'm going to see. The lions have transformed into their hideous Horned Attarian Razor Tooth form. They’re like armored wildebeests with a great white shark’s smile.

  Luckily, my uncle has these sharp-toothed monsters backed into a corner. “Let's hit it!” he says, pointing his weapons and never taking an eye off the alien beasts. “Chopper’s on its way.”