by Starla Night
“Ever since the Sons of Hercules contacted me, I have been working double shifts on a marketing campaign to expose them for the terrorists they are. Starr has been tracing their communications back to recruiters. Once we’ve recovered Jonah and unmasked the head of the organization, we unleash my campaign.”
Bella’s announcement shifted the whole tone of the room.
Hazel clenched her fists in a fighting pose. Dannika arranged her flowing scarf and folded her hands in the picture of a determined, wise woman.
Balim rested his hands on his spread knees, a warrior at rest.
Starr detailed their plans to trick the Sons of Hercules and evade their traps, starting with Hazel pretending to take up meditation every day after lunch for Starr to check in secretly on this conference phone.
Their small but mighty crew would spread hope. They would stand against the men who tried to hurt them. And once Bella rescued Jonah, they would smash the organization from the head down.
Hazel got the call that their emergency airplane to Atlantis was ready, and so they ended the meeting.
Balim led Bella to his car service. He was on her side once more, and she needed his strength. In the elevator, their shoulders brushed.
Bella’s skin heated to fire.
He glanced at her and bumped her shoulder again.
The knowledge she’d been trying to hold back ever since she’d seen him in the parking lot burst in. They’d had sex. She knew his smell, his taste, and the shape of his cock thrusting between her legs. And she wanted to smell, taste, and feel him again. Even in the elevator.
A small smile stretched his lips. He turned and pressed her into the wall. “You are aware of me now.”
Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, enjoying how his gaze heated and followed the movement. “Yes.”
“Good.”
He dipped his head. His mouth met hers, hungry, and their tongues tangled. Both desperate, both needing each other to complete the broken pieces in themselves.
Her nipples tightened to a painful hardness, and she gasped as they rubbed against his firm pectorals beneath the suit. She’d always been a sucker for a good-looking man, and he was both her barbaric dream and her civilized reality.
The door dinged, and she pulled away. His gaze flared on her with intensity as he released her, keeping a hand on her back.
They exited the elevator.
She didn’t know how she would get through the next days without losing her soul to Balim. She needed to concentrate on finding her son. Not losing herself to the world of the mer.
Not when she might still be backed into a corner and forced to betray them.
Chapter Nineteen
Balim rested beside Bella on the long, grating flight across the sunny Atlantic.
They rode in a converted airplane carrying six passengers: the captain, Balim and Bella, Pelan and his bride, and an employee from the human construction company. Bella had lost to exhaustion. She’d told Balim the entire Sons of Hercules plot, from the moment she’d received Herc’s first phone call to the ransom demand for her son.
He could think of nothing to say that would comfort her, but just sharing her agony seemed to be enough. A short time after, she’d closed her eyes and rested her head on the window despite the bouncing, grinding plane traversing fluffy clouds and sharp sun reflections.
What to do about impossible demands? Balim did not know. As his soul mate slumbered, he checked on his other patients.
Pelan half collapsed against his bride.
In these few short hours, his bruises had blackened to necrotic and threatened skin loss. Balim kept an eye on one foot. The toes were an unnatural green.
In human form, Pelan’s breathing labored, and the growl of snot filled the back of his throat, interrupting every breath with a choking snort.
His bride had her eyes open for the longest time since Balim had met her. She looked bleak. Probably wondering what had been the point of finding her soul mate since all she’d done after the first few happy hours had been hunch over his semiconscious body and pray he’d survive.
She caught Balim’s eye and held it. No longer frightened as she had been at the ER, she stared at him as though this experience had scraped the imperfections away and she was a pure instrument now. She hadn’t been timid or hesitant with him since the parking lot.
He was the first to look away.
The converted oil platform appeared on the horizon.
When Queen Aya had arisen from Atlantis after defeating the All-Council armies and rescuing the city, she had arranged for a human company to rebuild the surface city of ancient Atlantis.
Based on the few carvings Balim had reviewed, the ancient city had once spanned the breadth of a large human island; carved stone could still be imagined into tall columns, frescoes, domes, and more in the styles of human cities such as ancient Athens, Carthage, and those of the Etruscans. Hundreds of pressurized coils had once lifted and lowered the city. King Kadir had planted his Life Tree seed and formed rebel Atlantis in its shadow.
Few human companies built on the ocean, much less over blue water equidistant between Florida and Senegal, but oil companies had experience with anchoring massive platforms using thrusters, partial submersion, and other mechanics.
Because the oil platform was so isolated, the Sons of Hercules had not yet penetrated. But they would.
The plane bumped across the massive swells of the mid-ocean on its large float pontoons.
Everyone roused. Bella stretched and yawned, smiling at Balim in welcome and making his heart contract, before the events of the past hours cascaded in on her and she shrank into her seat, hugging her elbows.
He stroked her back, knowing he wasn’t enough to ease the ache.
Balim had felt so betrayed when Bella demanded to go to Atlantis. How could she throw her child away for an adult’s desire? The question made him shake. He hadn’t been able to bear to look at Bella. He’d wanted to run away.
Then he had realized she still prioritized her son. The fears had dissipated
He had never saved his father. If he saved her Jonah, would he finally atone?
The plane motored on top of the water like a bug. The platform lowered a hook and winched the floating plane onto the landing pad for refueling. It was Pelan’s luck that calm ocean conditions had held for a few hours today.
The rear cargo door creaked open.
Balim clambered out of his seat and lifted Pelan. He and Pelan’s bride held the warrior up as they lugged him to the ramp.
He’d lost too much weight since his first injury. They did not have much time.
Lotar met them at the bottom, and Balim gave Pelan over to his care. The tall, strong, gray-eyed warrior spoke to Balim alone as they crossed the long platform. “You missed Queen Lucy and the twins. They visited with her family and descended yesterday.”
“How many All-Council warriors harass and destroy equipment today?”
“Fewer.” Fresh cuts scraped his cheekbones, suggesting he had swept the area of All-Council warriors with his trident. “We will escort you to the midpoint. I have called down to announce your arrival.”
“Good.”
In the past, mer had descended using currents. Thanks to the human cables anchoring the platform above ancient Atlantis, they had learned it was possible to ascend and descend directly. But their bodies did not react well to rapid fluctuations of pressure and temperature. New techniques for breathing, kicking, and even shifting forms had been developed to take advantage of the structures.
They had also installed a submersible filled with pressurized breathable air at the bottom of the ancient city. King Kadir stationed warriors to attend to the communication wire inside. Now, they could call from the surface to the sea floor in seconds and do so privately.
A human miracle.
A small group of humans blocked the entrance to the elevator.
Lotar spoke quietly. “The owner of the construction company wish
es to speak with you and your bride.”
Balim fell back to Bella’s side.
She tried to finger comb her wild, windswept red hair, but her exhaustion and her darkening soul showed that she was losing heart.
He took her hand.
She brightened and leaned on him.
One genial man stepped forward from the group with a hand out to meet Pelan’s bride. “Merrit Ryerson. Welcome to Ryerson Deep Water Construction.”
Bella greeted him with a human handshake, and he repeated the same greeting with Balim and then Bella a second time. His open expression faltered, and he gestured for them to follow him into his office.
“I understand your friend is ill, so this will take no time,” he murmured, sorting through cardboard boxes. His office was furnished with books and a wide wooden desk with a computer on top. “No time at all. Something came for you in the last supply shipment. We get those by the slow boat, you know. Ah! Here it is.”
He emerged with a padded orange envelope marked with writing.
Bella paled and took it. “How long does it take a shipment to reach this platform?”
“Sailing from the closest port, ten days in good weather. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Are you?” He set his feet apart and folded his fingers across the belly of his button-up, cream shirt. “Let me enthrall you further. Do you have time to experience the technological marvels we’re creating here with Ryerson Deep Water Construction?”
Her lips curved, closed, over her teeth. “I’m sorry. we don’t.”
“What a shame. I think you’d love it, Bella Taylor.”
A knock on the frame of the open office door wiped the smile right off his face. He looked past them, and his tone flattened. “What?”
The site manager Balim had met when he’d first ascended long ago stood in the doorway, his nostrils just as pinched as they were in Balim’s memory. “We’re having trouble again with thruster A-29.”
“So get to it.” The owner’s smile returned, tighter, as the site manager remained. “Anything else?”
“The turbine’s lugging—”
“Parts are on the way.” He edged the site manager out and forced a laugh. “Every project has delays. We at Ryerson Deep Water Construction are committed to and capable of bringing your dreams to life.”
Then he ducked out into the hall and quietly conferenced with the site manager.
Bella ripped open the envelope. Inside was a large vial of blue liquid and a small paper scratched with human writing.
“Inject this into the Life Tree,” she read, then frowned and shook the vial. “Inject what? How?”
Balim took the vial. “Mitch can analyze liquids.”
“Back in New York.” She closed her eyes. Her soul light extinguished. “Knowing what it is doesn’t help us.”
“It does. Identifying the poison—”
“Does what?” she demanded, frustrated tears shining in her exhausted eyes. “This liquid kills the Life Tree. So whether it’s Roundup or bleach or another herbicide doesn’t matter. I have to figure out how to steal a Life Tree blossom, get it to the Sons of Hercules on the surface, and then inject the Atlantis Life Tree with this poison, or else…”
Or else the Sons of Hercules would harm her young fry son.
Balim pressed Bella to his chest, soaking up her weakness while she battled this intolerable choice. He knew the crush of emotion and duty, where all that lay in either direction was grief. So he spoke the words he wished someone, anyone, had spoken to him.
“I will help you. Do not be afraid.”
“But…I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Injecting is easy. Jam it into the stalk. The Life Tree’s circulation will suck up the poison.”
Her chest shuddered. She pulled back and stared at him, fear tinged with uncertainty. His coldness frightened her. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Murder is easy.” Cold spread throughout his chest. “That is why warriors cannot let an enemy enter the city. Hide the vial in my bag with your small plastic-coated picture of Jonah and be strong.”
“But I can’t…”
“Two times, you inject a poison. Once, to kill a person, and second, to kill something worse. The second meaning is the philosophy of your human ‘chemo’ medicine, yes?”
She nodded, choking.
“Then concentrate on the second and control your sadness. Your enemy has eyes here.”
She put a hand to her cheek. “Okay. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I will help you.”
“Please don’t.” She straightened her loose clothing, battered by the wind, and tucked the vial into her bag. “This time, I want to fail.”
He knew that wasn’t true. She wouldn’t sacrifice her son without a plan. “What is the deadline?”
She reread the papers and checked inside the envelope. “I can’t see one.”
“And there is no way to ask?”
“Why?”
“The queens call it ‘time dilation.’ You do not sleep for months, and so you do not realize how many surface days pass.”
“Hopefully, the Sons of Hercules took that into account.” She sighed. “Okay. We’ll figure out something.”
The owner returned to the office, took in her watery eyes, and lowered his voice, solicitous. “Are you feeling well? The platform is large and secure. You shouldn’t feel the ocean swells, but suggestive minds imagine them.”
“No.” She waved away his gesture with a false laugh. “I’m feeling sentimental. Thank you. Where can we meet our friends?”
“My site manager will show you. I’m taking your airplane back to civilization.” He held out a hand to shake again. “Goodbye, Balim. Good luck, Bella Taylor.”
They bid the owner farewell and followed the site manager through the metal gangways to an exit closer to the surf. Waves like rolling hills broke against the base and sprayed them with ocean water.
“I hate this.” The site manager sniffed. “I wish we’d never taken this job. I never signed up for shark attacks and undersea civil wars. Can’t go in the water without taking my life in my hands.”
Balim noted the long scab on the back of his dominant hand. “You need a bandage.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He reached into his bag, withdrew a roll of seaweed bandages, and took the man’s hand. “I will heal—”
“Heal yourself!” The site manager jerked his hand away and glared. “Healing me doesn’t get rid of the savages tormenting my men.”
He stormed back into the platform, slamming the door behind him.
“Pleasant,” Bella noted.
Balim stowed his clothing and shoes into waterproof tubs welded to the platform. Bella followed his lead, stripping down to the skin. Unlike most warriors, who strapped daggers to their biceps and thighs, Balim wore only a single dagger. He secured the small photo of her son and the vial of poison in his seaweed pouch, where he always carried his tools, and tied it to his waist.
His chest twinged.
If his enemies knew about this poison, they would take it and use it. His friends would exile him without hesitation.
For the second time in his life, he was committing an action that was treasonable. Only weeks ago, he would have prosecuted himself without mercy for risking the lives of the city and the new young fry.
But the dark part of him was capable of evil. He’d already proved it.
And he would rather bear the evil than Bella.
Balim forced it from his mind and instead focused on the dangerous task ahead. He collected his trident from the weapons storage locker beside the clothing tub. It was strangely pale and dried out. He’d never let it dry so long, and he tested the balance, tightening it to his side. It rested, awkward on land, in the crook of his elbow.
She walked into the wind. At the platform’s ledge, a well-armed and otherwise nude Lotar balanced Pelan over his shoulder while Pelan’s comple
tely nude bride shivered.
“It sounds like we’re diving into a war zone,” Bella said, ineffectually covering her feminine places with her palms and giving a mirthless laugh.
“You are.”
“What?”
“Do not think, Bella. Trust in me. In the Life Tree. In your destiny.”
Her soul fluctuated, but she turned to him and gave him that trust. His heart swelled. He would protect her.
“Leap.” Balim entwined their fingers, led her to the edge, and they jumped.
Chapter Twenty
Trust. That was not something Bella did lightly.
She was not a leaper. She was a thinker, a plotter, a seducer. Closing her eyes and doing the fall backward while waiting for another to catch her? Not in her wheelhouse.
But if it was Balim…
Bella tensed up as her toes left the platform.
The cheerful way Balim announced they were jumping into a war zone distracted Bella from the uncontrolled white-water surf crashing and smashing the metal platform.
Then the seawater closed over her head and encased her in a frothing, thrashing, bubbles-and-surf fist.
Panic hammered her chest.
Unlike during her plunge into Lake Eerie that night, this water didn’t chill her, although it was at least the same temperature or colder.
Balim floated in front of her and vibrated. “Release your air.”
She blew, letting go of a long sigh, and then tightened against the inevitable.
Seawater hit the back of her throat, and she fought the gag reflex, mastering her response while tears burned in her eyes. Alone and cold, she struggled.
Balim’s arms closed around her, and she relaxed. He was warm. Solid. Her anchor.
She didn’t want to rely on him, but in this vulnerable moment, she had no choice.
Her heart thudded hard. Warmth filled her. All she had to do was trust in someone else for once in her life. Believe everything would work out, embrace being a mermaid, and pursue a new life with Balim in Atlantis…
Her throat closed.
She choked.
