Atlantis Rising

by Alyssa Day

  “Riley,” Conlan said, voice gentle. “There is nothing left for them to find. Please. We need to get your sister out of danger.”

  Riley hesitated another minute, then nodded, squaring her shoulders. “Sure. Fine. You’re right. Atlantis exists, vampires attack me, I nearly get killed by my client’s boyfriend, and my sister is in league with werewolves. What’s abnormal about that?”

  She tightened her arm around Quinn, and they headed down the path toward the cars and, hopefully, toward some answers.

  Conlan stared out the window into the fading sunlight, pondering how the world could go mad in a matter of hours. Neither Quinn nor Riley would speak to him on the drive back to the house, and Quinn had fallen asleep almost immediately upon their arrival. Riley sat, unmoving, in a chair near her sister’s bed, as she had all afternoon.

  Alaric was still missing.

  He’d sent Bastien on patrol, to see what he could sniff out, while Christophe used his freakishly genius ways on the inter-net to hack into any local media networks he could find.

  Ven had gone to track down a contact in the local shape-shifter population, Alexios with him. Maybe there would be news of what exactly a local pack of wolves was doing messing with Reisen and his men.

  Although, knowing Reisen, it was the other way around. The House of Mycenae wasn’t exactly subtle about their feelings that the only good shape-shifter was a dead one.

  Brennan paced by on the grass outside the window, standing guard, and sketched a salute toward him, then pointed up. So Justice had taken up a position on the roof. Good.

  Denal sat on the floor outside Riley and Quinn’s room, daggers at the ready. He was taking his duty as Riley’s self-professed champion and defender very seriously.

  Even, to Conlan’s amusement and consternation, as regarded his prince.

  “She doesn’t want to speak to you now, my lord,” Denal had said, white-faced—probably at his own audacity—but firm, standing in front of the door to the bedroom.

  Conlan had nodded his head, acquiescing.

  For the moment.

  But he’d leaned close to his young warrior and spoken quietly. “You serve her well, Denal. But know this. If I wanted to go to her now, neither you nor any force of nature itself would stop me. Remember that in the future.”

  Denal, to his credit, hadn’t backed down. But Conlan had heard the explosive exhalation of breath as he’d walked away from the room and its guard.

  Conlan closed his eyes and tried to reach out to Riley, but her mental shields were still locked into place. Then he sent a summoning on the shared Atlantean mental path.

  Alaric, where are you? We need you, priest.

  It was nearly nine-thirty by the time Quinn woke up. Denal, camped out at her door, had tried to persuade Riley to eat something several times, but the sight of Quinn lying near death in the middle of some kind of supernatural über-battle had ruined her appetite.

  Quinn lay sprawled out on her back, arms flung wide, the same way she’d always slept. As Riley stared at her, Quinn’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Riley?” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Where are we?”

  “You fell asleep in the car, Quinn,” Riley said, leaning forward to grasp her sister’s hand. “We’re in a house that belongs to Conlan’s brother, Ven.”

  Quinn squeezed her hand—a brief pressure—and struggled to sit up. She looked down at her shoulder. She still wore the ruined shirt she’d had on when she’d been shot. “What happened, Riley? Who was that man, and how did he heal my shoulder?”

  “I’m not exactly sure how he heals, Quinn. His name is Alaric, and he—”

  “Alaric,” Quinn broke in, eyes widening. “I knew it. Somehow, I knew that was his name. It’s almost as if he talked to me when he was inside me.”

  “Inside you?”

  “Yes. I could feel him working inside me to heal my shoulder. It was the strangest thing. Almost as if a ball of energy—blues and greens and silver, but with darkness shadowing it—was literally traveling inside my skin.”

  Quinn shook her head, then shoved dark curls out of her eyes. “Or am I just losing my mind?” she asked, anguish clear in her eyes.

  “You’re not losing your mind. I’ve been through almost the same experience with Conlan. There is something amazingly different about these Atlanteans. I can reach into their emotions on a level far deeper than I’ve ever done with anyone except you, Quinn.”

  Riley jumped up and started pacing the length of the small room. “And they can feel my emotions, as well, to a certain extent. This is almost unbelievable, but Conlan can read my mind, at times. He . . . I don’t know how to describe it. It’s beyond anything I’ve ever felt.”

  Riley turned toward Quinn at the sound of her low whistle. Quinn stared at her, searching her face with her gaze. “What’s that tone in your voice, Riley? I haven’t heard that tone from you since college. No, maybe never. Do you have feelings for this guy?”

  Riley’s face burned, and she ducked her head, but not before Quinn had seen it. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel, except that I’ve been inside his mind, Quinn. And I’ve never seen anything like it—I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  She crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to her sister. “He saved me. He saved me from some thugs on the beach who would have raped me or worse. Then he saved me—well, we sort of saved each other—from a band of vampires who went batshit on my front lawn.”

  Riley grabbed Quinn’s hand again, held on as if to a lifeline. “I’ve seen inside him. The pain—I don’t know how anyone could have survived the torture I saw in his memories.”

  “Another stray animal you want to bring home?”

  “Want to bring home,” Riley mused. “The want part is certainly true. I—I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but we have this amazing animal attraction thing going on. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my life.”

  She shook her head. “It’s completely nuts.”

  Quinn pulled her hand out of Riley’s and grabbed her sister by the shoulders, then gave her a little shake. “Are you—and I ask this in the nicest possible way—out of your tiny little mind? How long have you known this guy? It seems like I would’ve heard from you a little earlier, if you’d been dating Mr. Hotshot Atlantis Dude for very long.”

  Riley shook her head. “We’re not even dating. I only met him last night. And yet I know him more than I’ve ever known anyone. Except for you. And when we’re together, well—”

  Quinn whistled again. “You don’t even have to say it, little sister. I can tell by the color your face just turned that you and he set off some serious heat. Did you sleep with him?”

  “No! I didn’t! I just met him. But, well.” Riley bit her lip, considering. “Okay, here it is. If I’d had a chance, I probably would have. I’ve never felt that kind of attraction to any man. Ever.”

  She stopped midthought. “Wait a minute! Forget my non-existent sex life. We’re talking about you here. What on earth were you doing with a band of shape-shifters? And what is this tough-guy act? It’s not like you’re . . . I mean—”

  “I know what you mean. Poor, fragile Quinn, who everybody always has to protect,” Quinn said bitterly. “Well, sometimes you have to grow up. And I didn’t bother to let anybody know that I’d changed, because being weak and useless is a good cover. Think Zorro or the Scarlet Pimpernel.”

  “But when . . . what . . .” Riley’s voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to ask her sister what needed to be asked.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Later. I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe.” Quinn stared at her for a long moment, then swung her legs off the bed and bent to pull on her boots. “You’re better than I ever was at measuring the character of a person by their emotions, Riley. So I guess I’ll take your word about this Conlan. But only on the condition that I get to test him myself.”

  A knock
on the door saved Riley from responding. “Go away, Denal. I told you I don’t want any food,” she called.

  The door swung open, framing Conlan in the doorway. “It’s not Denal, and as much as I think you should eat something, it’s more important that we talk. I need to know what your sister knows.”

  Riley tried to see behind him to the hallway. “Where is Denal? I thought he’d never leave.”

  Conlan shrugged. “I think Ven might be holding him upside down out a window right about now. He seems to have forgotten that I’m his high prince, in his zeal to serve you.”

  Only the hint of the smile at the corners of his lips gave away Conlan’s reluctant amusement at his warrior’s defection.

  Before Riley could respond, Quinn stood up and strode over to stand toe to toe with Conlan. “Prince, huh? If you’ve pulled a fast one on my baby sister, you will answer to me. And I’m the type of girl who will kick your Atlantean ass.”

  With that, faster than Riley had ever seen her move, Quinn placed her hands on Conlan’s temples. “Let me in, let me in, little fishy,” she said in a singsong voice.

  Conlan, staring at Riley over Quinn’s head, never moved. Riley knew how fast he could move. He could have snapped Quinn’s hold in a heartbeat. Heck, he could have snapped Quinn’s arms in a heartbeat.

  But, instead, he smiled at Riley, then closed his eyes. There was utter silence in the room for nearly a minute. Then Quinn dropped her hands and stumbled back and away from Conlan.

  “Who are you? How could you possibly survive that kind of torture?” She kept backing away from him, until she reached the bed and dropped down onto it next to Riley.

  “Quinn, are you all right?” Riley reached out to her sister with her emotions. But, for once, she couldn’t reach her. She jumped up to face Conlan. “What did you do to her?”

  “No, it’s what did you do to him?” Quinn said from behind her. Riley turned to look at her sister, but Quinn’s attention was focused on Conlan like a laser beam. “Somehow, Riley, you’re inside his soul.”

  Heat swirled through Riley. She looked into Conlan’s eyes, opening her emotions to him. Feeling the truth of her sister’s words.

  Not quite ready to let him see that he was inside her as well.

  Footsteps thudded down the hall toward them. Ven’s voice preceded his entrance. “Conlan, we’ve got a problem. Or maybe I should rephrase that. Hell, we’ve got a buttload of problems. This one is new though.”

  “Consider me to be another problem, Atlantean,” Quinn snarled. “Because until I find out why your people attacked mine, I’m going to be all over your ass.”

  Ven looked Quinn up and down and grinned. “Honey, I’d consider that the best part of my week. Hell, maybe my entire fucking year.”

  An icy voice swept into the room an instant before Alaric shimmered into a hard, menacing presence between Quinn and Ven. “I bid you fair warning, Vengeance. If you touch her, I will destroy you.”

  Riley jumped up, with some thought of protecting her sister from Alaric, who was the scariest man she’d ever seen.

  A man who just happened to have magic powers of death going for him.

  Inexplicably, Quinn started to laugh. The sound shivered through the room, high and wild. “Welcome to the tea party, fish face. I have a strange feeling that you and I need to talk, especially after you practically had your hand on my boob,” she said, still smiling that eerie smile. “At the very least, it seems like you owe me dinner.”

  Riley looked at them all—Conlan, Ven, Alaric, and her sister—and slowly shook her head. “Has the whole world gone insane?”

  Chapter 22

  Reisen limped down the stairs of the abandoned warehouse Micah had located for them. Thank Poseidon that the Trident was safe, still strapped to his back under his coat.

  He’d been lucky.

  Luckier than five of his men. Five warriors slain, and for what? To protect a human population stupid enough to welcome the shape-shifters and the bloodsuckers with bared necks?

  The only possible glimmer of light in the black fucking tunnel of his day was that there hadn’t been any mention of the battle in the media. Of course, the furry-assed controlled the media since they’d taken over CNN and the broadcast networks, so he guessed it wasn’t enormously surprising.

  Still, he decided to take it as a point for his side. After all, Alaric couldn’t follow a news story that he never heard.

  The priest would be tracking the news. Alaric would make it his life’s mission to find a way to track Reisen down and separate his balls from his body.

  Slowly.

  He glanced at the glowing numbers on the face of his father’s silver pocket watch. It was ironic that the only remembrance he carried of his father was the one rendered unstable by the powers he channeled.

  Watches didn’t like the powers of the elements, much. He pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket, grimacing at the blank screen.

  Not much machinery did, come to think of it.

  But he wouldn’t need to confirm his appointment with the Platoist Society. It wasn’t a meeting they were likely to forget.

  And when the Trident was whole and in his control, the five he’d lost today would be avenged.

  His father, too.

  The landwalkers would burn.

  Conlan positioned the players in his impromptu meeting quite deliberately. Alaric leaned against the wall on one side of the room.

  Riley sat with Quinn on a couch directly across the room from Alaric.

  He and Ven took the other two walls, so it looked like some weird game of four-player Atlantean chess, using real game pieces.

  Come to think of it, he’d felt a hell of a lot like a pawn ever since his return.

  That shit was over.

  Quinn stretched her legs out and crossed one boot over the other, in a clear display of studied nonchalance. She was every bit as tough as her sister but—unlike Riley—Quinn knew she was a hard-ass. She owned it.

  And for a few seconds, when he’d allowed her inside his mind, he’d felt the black stain on her own soul. She had secrets, Quinn Dawson did.

  Dangerous ones.

  “Are we talking or just staring at each other all night?” Quinn drawled. “Not that you aren’t all a fine bunch of eye candy, but I’ve got things to do, people to kill.”

  Riley stared at her sister in disbelief. Conlan sent a light touch to Riley’s emotions, checking for any false note.

  No, nothing. She was completely bewildered by Quinn’s presence in this disaster.

  Conlan folded his arms over his chest. “Interesting choice of words. Perhaps you’re ready to tell us what you were doing with those shape-shifters you call ‘your’ wolves.”

  Alaric said nothing, merely stared at Quinn, unblinking, eyes glowing a hot green.

  Quinn laughed. “Yeah. Right. Well, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine, as they say.”

  “Hey, what exactly do you want to see? I’m game,” Ven said.

  At the words, the room trembled, as if an undersea fault line threatened. Conlan felt the icy wind shear past his face toward his brother, and knew what caused the temblor.

  Or, rather, who.

  “Cut it out, priest,” he growled. “Whatever you’re playing at, we don’t have time for this shit. We need to put our respective cards on the table, now.”

  It was as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “You want me to show you mine?” Alaric stalked across the room toward Quinn and Riley, but stopped a half dozen paces away, before Conlan or Ven had a chance to move. “Well, how about this?”

  Eyes glowing hotter than Conlan had ever seen, Alaric casually lifted first one, then the second, of his hands into the air. In tandem with the motions, Quinn and Riley were lifted off the couch until they were levitating inches from the ceiling, still in seated positions, resting on glowing balls of blue-green light.

  “How’s that?” Alaric demanded. “Or how about this?”

  He
sliced both hands in a downward motion, then raised then, palms up, muttering something under his breath. The women plunged down toward the floor, then a fountain of water caught them and gracefully lifted them both back onto the couch.

  With another abrupt hand movement, the water disappeared. Neither Riley nor Quinn had a drop on them.

  Riley gasped a little. “Wow, that was pretty . . . that was—”

  “Cute parlor trick, fish face,” Quinn said. Then she feigned an enormous yawn. “Are we done with the smoke and mirrors? Or, excuse me, that was water and mirrors, right?”

  In the space of a single heartbeat, Alaric was lifting her off the couch and up against him. “Don’t push me, female. We would both regret it.”

  But it wasn’t anger that Conlan heard in Alaric’s voice. It was an almost-pleading desperation.

  When Quinn answered, her voice was so quiet that Conlan could barely make out her words. When he did, they didn’t make any sense.

  “Forget whatever you think you saw in me, beautiful one,” she murmured. “I am ruined.”

  What she did next sent both Conlan and Ven rushing across the room to protect her. Because she lifted her hands and put them on Alaric’s face.

  A sound Conlan had never heard before issued from the priest’s throat, a hard, choked sound filled with soul-destroying pain. A shock wave of a sound that literally smashed Conlan and his brother backward, landing them hard on the floor.

  In the seconds it took for him to catch his breath and look up, Alaric was gone. Quinn stood alone, hands still frozen in place where Alaric’s face had been.

  Tears running down her own.

  Riley jumped up and put her arms around her sister. “Maybe we should put this off until the morning,” she said, glaring at Conlan. “I think Quinn has been through enough today. We’ve both been through enough. I need to take her home, Conlan.”

  Before Conlan could utter a word of protest, support came from an unexpected source. Quinn wiped the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands, then cleared her throat.

  “No,” she said. “I think you should stay with them.”