by Alyssa Day
She gestured with one hand and released him. Suddenly able to move, he was afraid to do so.
He was no stranger to her games.
"Rise, my Barrabas. I hear from your cesspool of a mind that you remember our fun with… yearning. Shall I pleasure you again with my toys?"
He stood, struggling to contain the shudder that threatened to devour his body. Her toys. Iron-clawed whips. Steel manacles that fit many more things than only arms and legs.
Braving a glance at her, he saw that she was unchanged. If anything, more beautiful than she'd been three hundred years ago when he'd last seen her.
Last felt her.
Almost died the true death from it.
Silken waves of midnight black hair caressed curves of such perfection that they would drive a human male to drooling madness. Piercing eyes the black of damned souls gazed at him, a spark of red in their exact centers.
She must be in a good mood.
Maybe he wouldn't die.
Maybe not this time.
"Afraid to answer me, Lord Barrabas?" She infused the word with sarcasm sharp enough to flay flesh from bones.
He'd done that with her, too. More of her "toys."
"I… forgive me, my lady goddess. I have no words, before your beauty." He stammered out the words, knowing that flattery might have a chance to distract her. She was Death personified, but she was an ancient female death. Pretty words drew her attention like shiny things to the eyes of a crow.
"Yes. Yes, I am beautiful, Barrabas," she preened. "And I have been constrained from playing my favorite games for far too long, due to Poseidon's curse. But this day and yester eve bring me great joy, my young one. Do you wish to know why?"
Though nearly three thousand years old, the "young one" was afraid to do more than nod.
She caressed his cheek with a fingertip, and his skin burned and sizzled in the wake of her touch. He fought to keep from flinching.
"The princeling himself broke Poseidon's curse. He has revealed the existence of Atlantis to one of the sheep, thus breaking the ancient stricture laid upon me by that prick of a sea god," she said, skirts whirling around her with the force of her anger.
Barrabas gasped. "Atlantis? The lost continent of legend truly exists?"
She smiled again, and her mouth was crowded with far too many teeth. Shiny, dagger-sharp teeth. He leaned toward her, hypnotized at the sight, but she laughed and turned away.
"No, Barrabas. I am in no mood to sample your wares again. First, I will tell you of Atlantis, and how you will serve me in my plans. Then." She smiled again and prodded the motionless form of Drakos with one slippered foot. "Then I will teach your general how to play."
Chapter 21
Riley planted one hand on her hip, the other still supporting Quinn, and stared up at the walking mountain of muscle who was barring her path. "Look, Bastien, I appreciate your loyalty to Conlan. Really I do. But Brennan already let us go, and I need to get my sister to a doctor."
A trace of warm sympathy crossed Bastien's handsome face, but he shook his head and folded his arms across his enormous chest. "I am sorry, Lady Riley, but I am unable to allow you to pass."
Riley heard a sharp snick sound, and suddenly a lethal-looking knife blade was pressed up against Bastien's neck. And Quinn was the one holding the nonpointy end of it.
Riley gasped, but Bastien merely sighed, as if he were totally unconcerned with the six inches or so of steel pointing at his throat.
Quinn moved away from Riley and pushed her a little way back with the arm not holding the knife. "Here's the deal, buddy. You let me and my sister go, or I'll slice your carotid artery into little pieces before you can say 'not-so-jolly giant.'"
Bastien actually smiled. "I am unsurprised that you would have the courage of a warrior five times your size, small one. Your sister's blood is strong in you. Were you suckled with tiger's milk?"
Riley snapped out of her shock and grabbed her sister's arm. "Quinn, stop! These men are… well, they… they're the good guys."
Quinn turned to look Riley in the eye, hand holding the knife never wavering. "Riley, there are things here you don't understand. Those men who were dead—they were—"
"They were shape-shifters and Atlantean warriors," Conlan said, stepping onto the path next to Riley. "What will be interesting to learn is how you came to be lying, injured, in the midst of them."
Brennan silently appeared beside Quinn. "I sensed that you had finished the mortus desicana, and that it would be safe to let Lady Riley and her sister walk toward you," he said, bowing slightly toward Conlan.
Quinn's eyes narrowed, but she finally put the knife down and stepped back from Bastien, who winked at her. "Outnumbered by Atlantean warriors. That would actually explain a lot about the way they… Well. Do you have any proof of this ridiculous story? And what are you doing here?"
She swept out a hand at the path. "Were those your men who attacked my wolves?"
Riley's heart, which had finally begun to slow down, started racing again. "What? Your wolves? What are you doing hanging out with a pack of shape-shifters?"
Quinn gently patted her arm, with the air of a parent comforting a toddler. "Shh, sis. It's okay. I'll tell you about it later."
Oh, that was so not happening. Riley yanked her arm away from Quinn's hand. "You can stow the condescending attitude, Quinn, and tell me what the hell you're doing here and why you had a… a gunshot wound that you nearly died from?"
Quinn had the audacity to roll her eyes. "A little dramatic, don't you think? It was only my shoulder. I've had worse." Her face softened, and she pulled Riley close in a fierce hug. "I'm sorry, baby sister. I love you so much—I never wanted for you to see any of this world." Quinn pulled away suddenly, and she scanned the area.
"Speaking of which, where is that other man? I had the strangest feeling that he crawled into my skin to heal me from the inside out…" Her voice trailed off, and her hand reached up to touch her shredded shirt and the unbroken skin underneath it. "I know I didn't imagine that gunshot."
"We can share our stories back at the house," Conlan said. "I think it's past time we got away from here."
"The scene of the crime," Quinn added, lines of sorrow and exhaustion on her face. "Where are they? What did you do with… their bodies?"
Ven stumbled up to them, looking like he'd been on a three-week bender. His skin was gray, and the dark circles under his eyes went on for miles. Riley looked from him to Conlan, whose face was also drawn and pale, though less so than Ven's.
"What exactly happened to you two?" she asked, opening her mind and emotions for the first time since she'd seen the bodies.
But Conlan's mental shields were down in a big and serious way. She couldn't feel anything from him.
Ven, though, either wasn't as strong or else he was too tired to care. She felt it from him—the sorrow, the weariness, the horror at what they'd done.
But she didn't understand the emotions. "What did you do to the bodies?" she asked, echoing Quinn.
"We had to dispose of them. We can't leave that kind of mess for the human authorities," Conlan said, jaw clenching.
"But—no! You can't do that! We have to call 911 and—"
"He's right, Riley," Quinn said wearily, head drooping. "This is something beyond even the P Ops. Especially if they really are from Atlantis."
Conlan held a hand out to Riley, and she blinked at him in utter disbelief. "But, that can't be right. Paranormal Ops guys deal with this kind of stuff all the time, right? I mean—"
"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 towa
rd 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 internet 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 nonexistent 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."
