by Alyssa Day
Conlan shot a glance at his brother then nodded. “If Quinn’s wound is minor, Alaric should return soon. There is nothing we can do to track Justice until that time, so we should focus on the matter at hand. Tiernan has given us much news of the plans for the Apostates.”
Alexios’s gaze settled on the human, then returned to his prince. “Is that wise? Especially considering where we found her, are we going to trust that what she tells us is truth and not some elaborate sort of trap, with her as bait?”
Instead of becoming defensive, Tiernan smiled at him. “You’d make a good reporter, Atlantean. Never believe anything you hear. Fact-check, fact-check, fact-check.”
She paused, and her cheeks flushed a dull red. “The truth is that I got in over my head. I thought I knew the setup; I went in as part of the catering staff. I knew they wouldn’t start the festivities until the caterers left, but I thought I might hear something useful. Instead, I got blindsided.”
“Forced to take your clothes off and be part of the orgy?” Alexios said, not believing a damn word of it.
“No, I . . . The caterers were in on it. I was ordered to take a load of empty platters down to the catering van and not come back. But I took a detour to the bathroom and then managed to hide behind that couch when nobody was looking.” She touched her bruised face. “Got this shiner when somebody tossed a bottle back there and it hit me. It was tough to keep from crying out. But one of those nasty old men saw me, and I had to play along and pretend I was shy and it was my first party. It would have been dangerous for me to run; he was suspicious. So I had to undress while the pervert watched. Then he took my clothes and said he’d be right back. I was trying to figure out how to get out of Dodge when you guys busted in.”
“Rather convenient timing, isn’t it? If anything you’re saying is true,” Alexios said. “Maybe we’d better triple-check your version of the facts.”
“Which is exactly what we’re going to do, with every piece of information she gives us,” Ven said flatly. “But she was right about the Void, and what she’s telling us now confirms information we have from independent intelligence. So far, so good, in other words.”
Tiernan pointed at one of the maps, and Alexios moved closer in order to see. “They’re starting in the most populated areas and working their way out. Big cities—major metropolitan areas. New York, of course. Boston. Seattle. Jackson ville, Florida, of all places. Urban sprawl hits vampires, too, I guess,” she said. “We’ve been working on this story for nearly three years. The Apostates, and the cult of Algolagnia.”
“Who is we?” Conlan asked.
“Yeah, I find it hard to believe that your bosses at the Boston Herald are encouraging you to go after this story,” Ven said, shaking his head. “Last we heard, that paper was one of nearly three dozen in the United States run by a consortium of shape-shifters.”
Tiernan looked up at him, a smile quirking at the edges of her lips. “You seem to hear a lot. Is it true that Donald Trump is a shape-shifter, or is that just an unsubstantiated rumor?”
Ven snorted. “With that hair?”
Alexios couldn’t find it in himself to be amused. Not after escorting half of the rebel team to the emergency room. “Perhaps we could leave the attempts at humor by the wayside, until a more appropriate time.” He heard the snap in his voice, but made no apology. To apologize would be to dishonor the wounded . . . and Grace.
Conlan’s gaze rested upon him for a moment, considering, and then the prince nodded. “Alexios is right. But again I must ask, who is this we to whom you refer? We have heard of no human investigation into the Apostates.”
“If you’d heard of us, it would mean we weren’t doing our jobs,” Tiernan retorted. “We’re investigative reporters, and we work underground. We gather sources, facts, and solid evidence. Then and only then do we take the story live. This is going to be the biggest story of my career when it breaks.”
Alexios decided to try a bluff. “We’ve heard of you, too, reporter. We’ve heard that you’re a glory seeker who thinks Pulitzer is her middle name. We’ve heard you’re unreliable and sloppy. Why would we possibly want to work with you?”
For a split second, so quickly that Alexios almost missed it, Tiernan’s dark eyes went hazy and unfocused. “That is a lie,” she said, her voice almost eerily calm. “You have never heard of me, and you haven’t heard of my investigation, either. You don’t know who to trust, and you’re worried about your friend.
“There’s more,” she said, turning toward Conlan. “You’re afraid that whatever he did—Justice—with or to that archaeologist is going to have repercussions for Atlantis. Terrible repercussions.”
Suddenly she blinked and shuddered a little, like a water bird shaking droplets from its feathers, and pasted a grin on her suddenly pale face. “Don’t bluff a poker player.”
A heavy silence freighted the air. Something odd had just happened, but Alexios wasn’t sure what. All of his senses were telling him that Tiernan was merely human.
Then again, so were Quinn and Riley. Human and aknasha’an. Emotional empaths after thousands of years. Erin—a gem singer. No one was surprised by the merely odd anymore.
“All right, let’s operate on the assumption that you’re telling the truth,” Conlan said. He pointed at the map. “Show us.”
In rapid succession, Tiernan pointed to a dozen heavily populated areas. “All of these. The cult of Algolagnia is recruiting heavily. Unfortunately, their version of recruiting is a lot more like what we would call the draft.”
Ven swore viciously under his breath in ancient Atlantean, no doubt in deference to Tiernan. Regardless of the language, however, the meaning was clear. “So what you’re saying—”
“Is that it’s not voluntary,” Tiernan finished his sentence. “Not very many people, no matter what you think of us humans, sign up to have their brains turned into mashed potatoes.”
“Vivid imagery, but how appropriate is the analogy?” Conlan asked. “Are you saying Anubisa and her acolytes are enthralling the humans? As distasteful as that is, it’s a temporary measure. We have seen this for centuries. Indeed, millennia.”
“There is nothing temporary about this,” Tiernan said ad amantly. “We have evidence of actual permanent distortion of brain patterns. We’ve got brain surgeons, neurologists, and neuropsychiatrists working with us. MRIs of the brains of affected individuals are far, far different than scans of people merely suffering from temporary enthrallment.”
She paused, staring at each one of them in turn, as if to emphasize her point. “Anubisa is creating an army of human minions with shattered minds, who will never, ever be able to return to themselves. She’s playing Sudoku with our brains, and somebody’s got to stop it.”
Unless she was an actress far better than any Alexios had ever seen on the stage, Tiernan was telling the truth. The passion and pain in her voice had nearly caused it to break, but there was steel in the woman. Steel honed in outrage rather than fire, perhaps, but steel nonetheless.
“Shattered minds can be healed,” Conlan said.
Ven stared at him. “The Star of Artemis? But that’s—”
Conlan made a subtle hand gesture, cutting his brother off mid-thought.
Ven narrowed his eyes, but complied. Then he slammed his fist on the table, startling them all. “It’s always back to her,” he snarled. “How is the universe so out of balance that Poseidon sits idly by and lets the vampire goddess roll the dice with the futures of three races?”
“You speak blasphemy, I feel compelled to point out, even though I can’t disagree,” Conlan said. “Perhaps, for now, we should focus on what direction we can take in this battle, rather than flailing at the actions of gods.”
Tiernan gasped a little. “Are you saying that Anubisa is actually a goddess? And by Poseidon, do you mean the mythical sea god?” She narrowed her eyes. “I came to you about a real problem, with real information about your friend, expecting real help. Is this your idea
of a joke? Let’s feed fairy tales to the human?”
Alexios swept his arm out in a gesture encompassing the room in which they stood. “You’re in Atlantis, Tiernan Butler. The mythical lost continent of Atlantis, as your kind likes to call it. Do you really want to discount the existence of the sea god when you stand in his realm, far beneath the surface of the oceans?”
Tiernan opened her mouth as if to respond but then snapped it shut. After a moment she grinned, and a flash of the carefree woman she might have been in easier times shone out at them. “You do have a point.”
Then her smile faded. “Your other friend . . . the one who went kind of crazy in Boston. Is he okay?”
Alexios looked to Conlan, who nodded. “Brennan is fine and has no memory of any uncharacteristic behavior. We find that we must keep him some distance from you, however, since there is clearly something about you to which he is reacting . . . adversely.”
“Gosh, you boys sure talk pretty,” she drawled, eyes sharp. “Reacting adversely. Interesting way to put it.”
“We don’t have the time to explore it now, even if we had the inclination,” Ven snapped. “Brennan stays away from you. You stay in Atlantis while we check you out.”
Before she could utter the protest that was so clearly forming on her lips, Ven shot a wicked smile her way. “Fact-check, fact-check, fact-check, right? From your lips to my ears.”
“Fine,” she said flatly. “I guess I’ll agree, since I don’t really have any other options. I don’t even know how we got here, and your castle staff aren’t exactly forthcoming to the human prisoner.”
“You are our guest, Lady Tiernan,” Conlan said, and once again the royal bearing was in evidence. “Not our prisoner.
But we would be remiss if we did not verify your story, as you yourself do understand. Give us a few days, and we’ll return you to Boston to continue your work.”
“If you’re telling the truth,” Alexios felt compelled to add.
“Truth. Always truth, shining in the shifting sands of nuance, intent, and deception,” Tiernan murmured, staring off into the distance. “I tell the truth in ways you wouldn’t even believe, Atlantean.”
A shiver snaked across Alexios’s spine. Definitely something off about Tiernan Butler. Perhaps something they should investigate.
Conlan inclined his head. “We hope that is the case, for all of our sakes. If vampires have progressed to actual human brain-pattern destruction, then we must step up our response.”
The prince bent his head to study the map again. “Perhaps you will have your Pulitzer yet.”
Tiernan began to respond, but Alexios had recognized the dismissal in Conlan’s words. “If you’ll come with me, Tiernan, I’m sure we can find you a comfortable—”
“Erin wants to see her,” Ven interrupted. “She’s at the Temple and said she’d give Tiernan the tour.”
“Temple?” Tiernan’s eyes brightened with what Alexios was beginning to recognize as journalistic zeal. “What Temple?”
“The Temple of the Nereids,” Alexios said, gesturing to the door. “More of those mythological beings you were talking about earlier.”
As she fired questions at him, Alexios managed to herd her toward the door. He held it open for her to exit before him and then turned back toward Conlan and Ven. “I stand ready, for whatever you decide.”
They nodded in unison, looking in that moment more like identical twins than mere brothers. “We know,” Conlan said. “As soon as Alaric returns, we’ll plot out our next steps.”
“Justice first,” Ven said, and the determination in his voice had the resonance of a vow. “Then Anubisa and the Apostates.”
Alexios nodded, in total agreement with that plan. He pulled the door shut behind himself and went to rescue the guards from Tiernan’s interrogation, repeating the vow in his mind.
Justice first, and justice second.
Even the reporter would like that. It had the ring of a front-page headline.
Chapter 24
Atlantis, the cavern
Justice forced himself to do willingly what he’d fought against for hundreds of years. He opened the shields in his mind and released the Nereid half of his soul. At first his response was only silence, as if the Other mocked him.
As if he’d waited too long.
However, ever so gradually, power curled like liquid fire through the resistant spaces of his mind. Heat filled his body, sparkling and shimmering through his veins and arteries like champagne-filtered blood.
Finally. Finally you call to me, and invite me to demonstrate my power. The Nereid’s voice resonated through his mind with the thundering of percussion drumming out a triumphant march.
“I call on you to share your power,” Justice said aloud. “If we can’t escape this cavern, it does you no more good than it does me.”
Keely’s forehead furrowed as she gazed up at him quizzically, and he realized what his half of the conversation must sound like.
“I’m not crazy; I’m only talking to myself,” he offered. “The only way we’ll get out of here is if the Nereid half of me can teach me powers I’ve never known. It wasn’t an Atlantean gift that transported us down here. I’m not sure what I did or how I did it. The Nereid knows, and so I will learn.”
“This is probably a subject for another time, but it doesn’t seem all that healthy that you’re talking about the other half of yourself in the third person. Of course, earlier you were referring to yourself as ‘we,’ so I guess it’s all relative,” she said, smiling weakly. “I’m good with whatever gets us out of here.”
Justice smiled at her in a way that he hoped was reassuring, and then he closed his eyes and sank into the duality of his consciousness. Swirls and spirals of shimmering color danced in the darkness inside his mind, as if his Nereid half were a prism reflecting the brightest gemstones in the cavern.
Though he didn’t understand the scope of the power released, he could certainly feel the magnitude of it. He’d always been possessed of superior usage of the Atlantean magics, but this was different. Darker. Not more powerful, but simply other. Clay shaped by a sculptor with mysterious intent.
His mind shuffled through the new concepts. New constructs. A different view of ordering the universe.
Matter transference. The knowledge and technique gleamed before him. It was so simple; of course he could do it. Of course he had done it.
Of course he could do it again.
It was a simple process. He offered up his being into the fabric of the universe. It was a loan—no more. A momentary return to the energy of creation. He pictured himself and Keely where he wanted them to be, and they would travel through the waves, as particles of that flow.
He could see it. He could hear it, touch it, taste it. Everywhere he looked, energy beams danced and played, sweeping through the fabric of life itself. It would be so easy to sink into the energy. To catch a ride.
He turned toward Keely and, truly seeing her, laughed, suddenly joyous. Brilliant oranges, yellows, and reds floated, sparkling, around her. She existed inside a kaleidoscope of all the colors of the sunset, crowned by the flame red of her hair. She was strength and wonder and innocence, and yet there were darker hues, as well. Flashes of sienna fading into deepest mahogany, indicative of some negativity. Pain in her past.
He had no reason to know it, but he did. He was no longer only Justice. Or even only Justice and Nereid. He was part of the web of all existence in the galaxy, and traveling within it would be as effortless as swimming in a quiet pool.
Not so easy as that, the Nereid cautioned. You cannot fall into that trap. Limitless possibilities exist to seduce the unwary. If you give yourself to the universe without reservation, there is the chance you’ll never return.
Justice recoiled at the idea of limits, but then leashed his denial. Forced himself to listen to the Nereid.
Keely. He needed to protect Keely. Remove them both from this cavern in which they were trapped. Focus on t
he practical; the magical could wait. He turned to her. “I know how to do it. He told me, and it’s so simple—well. It’s simple once you have the knowing of it.”
“You can really get us out of here?” Fragile hope shone on her face and for a moment he paused, stunned by her beauty.
“Yes. I would ask where you wish to go, but I believe one destination is mandatory. We have explanations to make. I have explanations to make. We’ll go to the palace. It must be the beginning, although we don’t yet know the ending.”
Keely took a deep breath and nodded. “Part of me wants nothing more than to go home, have a hot bath, and drink a bottle or two of wine. But we need to tell the prince about the Star of Artemis and the Trident. All of Atlantis could be in serious danger if they try to ascend without the full set of gemstones.”
He held out his hand and she twined her fingers in his, and a fountain of sparkling light merged into a geyser around them. Entranced by the hypnotic allure, he almost missed her next words.
“Just tell me this is safe,” she said, attempting a smile. “I know we did it once before, but I can’t help but feel a little bit like a guinea pig. I really don’t want half of my atoms going to Borneo while the other half end up in the palace here in Atlantis. I watched Star Trek on DVD, you know. That transporter was not exactly reliable.”
From somewhere in his past, he found an echo of humor that hadn’t yet been beaten out of him by years of battle—or months in the Void. “I hear Borneo is nice this time of year.”
Somehow, against all odds, Keely started laughing. Justice called to the magic of his Nereid ancestors and, holding her in his arms, he stepped off the edge of reality and into the tapestry of the universe. They dissolved into pure energy, and both halves of himself—Nereid and Atlantean—marveled at the brilliance of captured sunlight that he held so carefully in his arms.
Keely melted into nothingness, again—or maybe not. In some nearly indefinable way, this was different. She felt herself more an active participant in the process, although it certainly wasn’t her bringing the magic. As a scientist, she tried to observe and catalog. Sensations, reactions, experience as experiment.
